Einsamkeit [Prussia x Reader]

It's been exactly one year since he's been gone.

Sometimes you think that the past three hundred and sixty five days have all just been one long nightmare. Sometimes you forget that he's no longer here and you creep silently into his room in the mornings to rouse him from sleep only to realize the bed is as cold and empty as the space between your ribs. Sometimes, when you're visiting his grave, the name on the tombstone is just a bad joke and at any moment he's going to tap you on the shoulder and give you the same cocky grin that you once held more dear to your heart than anything else.

Sometimes it's all you can do from going absolutely insane.

I should get up.

The thought is simple enough but as you lay beneath the sheets, (e/c) eyes staring blankly at the dim ceiling, you know it's going to be impossible. Your very being has become the center of gravity and even just lifting your head sends a wave of bitter nausea spiralling through your system. Your skin feels too taut on your body, like it's been stretched over muscle and sinew and bone to the point where it's going to rip apart at any moment to reveal your frail insides. 

This is never going to end, is it? I'm going to feel like this for the rest of my life.

You don't have to glance at the alarm clock to know it's past noon. The hunger that gnaws against the walls of your stomach is enough to tell you. It is a diseased wolf, fangs scraping the thin membranes within you as it howls pitifully, unable to recall the last time it was fed. You ignore the stabbing ache in your gut as your head slowly turns to the window, squinting at the thin rays of light that manage to filter in from the curtains. It barely lights up the bedroom and for a moment, you almost want to laugh at the irony of it all - the gloom reminds you of the impenetrable shadows that are constantly invading your heart, which is probably why it's useless to even try to get out of the bed.

This isn't loneliness anymore. It's something entirely different.

You miss him.

It's a feeling that weighs down on your chest and threatens to snap every rib, snatch up your heart with poisonous claws, and tear it to insignificant shreds. It permeates every piece of your essence, seeping through your skin with a cruel and wicked laughter that makes you want to hide and cower from the rest of the world. 

I should have never let myself care for him.

A dissonant buzzing distracts you and with too much effort to be considered normal you roll over, eyes glancing at the cellphone on your nightstand. The screen is lighting up with a call notification and without looking at it closely you already know it's Ludwig. Something akin to guilt takes root beneath your skin as you watch the call continue until the voice mail picks it up but you do not act upon the urge to respond. The desire to stay still on the bed that is starting to feel more like a prison is much stronger. The phone starts to buzz again and this time you merely look away, instead focusing on a particular spot on the wall as if it's the most interesting thing this world has to offer.

"I'm sorry."

You almost don't recognize your own voice when it leaves your dry throat and passes cracked lips, entering the air in a feeble murmur.

"I'm sorry."

There is an itchy heat from behind your eyes. You feel a strange wetness drip down your cheeks and it takes you longer than it should to realize that it is tears. Your chest constricts to the point where you can barely breathe and your throat closes up as your fingers grip the sheets so tightly that the blood stop flowing. A sound like an injured animal being strangled rises from your mouth and your vision goes blurry as the salty flavor of anguish trickles onto your lips and lands on your tongue, head hanging as you try in vain to force everything back inside of you.

"I'm so fucking sorry."

The room suddenly grows cold. You feel a frigid touch against your cheek and your body stops instantly as a shudder runs down your spine, a mixture of fear and bewilderment coiling at the bottom of your stomach.

And then you hear it.

His voice.

"Please don't cry anymore, Liebling."

A pressure under your chin tips your head up and you stare with wide, disbelieving eyes at what is before you. It's him. 

Him.

Red eyes gaze at you with a softness that makes you want to lose yourself in their crimson hues. His hand moves from your chin to your cheek again and just the mere contact is enough to dispel the penumbra that has been lurking in your veins for so long. His body is translucent in the murkiness of the bedroom, the meager light from the curtains going right through him and making his silver-white hair almost glow.

"G...Gil...bert...?"

Every letter of his name feels like sandpaper as it scrapes across your tongue. Your hand reaches out subconsciously, blindly, and instantly he grasps it tightly. The chill of his transparent skin is barely noticeable as you feel yourself rising slowly from the bed, legs trembling like a newborn deer's as you step towards him. 

Gilbert smiles and squeezes your hand. It's a gentle, loving gesture that rapidly fills the emptiness in your chest with something unexplainable - but it's something that you have been yearning for since this very day one year ago.

"Ja. It's me, (name). I came to see you."

In that moment, your entire world shifts.

You throw yourself at him as a choked sob escapes past your lips, arms wrapping around his broad chest with a pressure that hints of you never wanting to let go. Every part of him is cold - the kind of cold that reminds you of dead things, but you don't care. He's here. Gilbert is right before you and you're holding him.

"Oh, Liebling..." the accented voice is heavy with a dozen or so emotions that you can't identify and frankly, you don't care. Gilbert's arms wrap around you, the embrace a sensation that you had almost entirely forgotten about. You're crying against his chest as he whispers longingly into your ear, his breath a chilling breeze against your skin. "Forgive me. You've been hurting so much."

"H-How?" you whisper hoarsely, managing to look up at him with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. "How are you here? You're...you're dead, Gilbert. I watched them bury you. You're dead. So...s-so how...?"

"Because you needed me." The lines etched onto his pale face are full of remorse and sorrow as Gilbert's finger gently skims across your cheeks, brushing away the tears. You shiver at the cold touch but not because of the temperature but, rather, simply because it is an action that you haven't felt for twelve months. 

"I can only come back once a year," Gilbert continues quietly, as if the perpetual silence of the bedroom makes him not want to speak. "That's how it works when you die. I'm going to visit Ludwig after this but you...you had to be first, (name)." He bends down and his lips brush against your forehead tenderly and despite the chill of his touch, a warmth spreads from the spot to every inch of your body. "You're in so much pain and it's all because of me. I'm so sorry."

"I've missed you," you admit in a raspy voice, leaning against him and closing your eyes. Your head is at his chest and when you listen meticulously, there is nothing that even remotely resembles a heart beat. But he's here now - Gilbert is here and that is all that matters.

With a trembling hand you reach up and caress his pale cheeks; it looks like you're touching glass. "I'm so lonely, Gilbert," you say as your fingers glide over his diaphanous skin. You don't want to admit it, but he looks beautiful. 

Like an angel without wings.

"I know, Liebling. I know." Gilbert's hand covers you own and he gives you a small, sad smile. "But you can't continue on like this. You're hurting yourself, (name)."

"I - "

You stop yourself before you can say anything more, staring at him with a scrutinizing gaze. He seems to be getting more and more see-through and your heart skips a beat, a cavalcade of thoughts bouncing painfully around your head.

Don't go. Don't leave me. Not yet. Not yet...

"What am I supposed to do without you?" The inquiry is a desperate, hollow plea.

"Live."

His answer is so simple yet just that one syllable is more complicated than the entire universe.

Gilbert's arms wrap around you again but this time, the pressure feels much lighter, as if he has lost substance. "You need to live, (name)," he says against your cheek. "Be happy. Smile. Just live."

He laughs then. It's a sound that is more beautiful than any symphony an orchestra could muster. It's a sound that curls around your heart and nuzzles it lovingly.

"If the awesome me tells you to do something, don't you think you should listen?"

He steps back from you and the desire to hold onto his hands and make him stay is overwhelming. His body is becoming even more transparent by the second. Gilbert's lips are set into the semi-arrogant smirk that you once found so irritating but now it's a gesture you don't want to see disappear. 

"Promise me." Though he's grinning, his tone is stern and no-nonsense. "Promise me that you'll live for me, (name). Because this time next year when I come back, I want to see you smiling."

You know then that he's right. 

Something strange happens inside of you. A bundle of odd sensations - joy? happiness? - rises up and makes its way to your face and you feel your mouth stretching into what can only be a smile.

"I...I promise." Your voice is timid and anxious as you give him a shaky nod. "I promise."

Gilbert eyes you with an analytical gaze before nodding as well, evidently pleased. His body is almost gone now and despite the impulse to reach out towards him pounds into you like a bullet to the heart. But you remain still, feeling one last tear well up in your eye and slide painstakingly slowly down your cheek.

"Take care, (name). I'll be watching you. Always."

And just like that he's gone. The area of the floor on which he stood is empty but for some reason, it feels as if the light from the curtains has grown where he was. Maybe it's just your imagination.

You shoot a glance towards the messy bed and your body feels pulled towards the hypnotic lure of wallowing in it just as you did for almost every day for a year.

But no.

You made a promise to Gilbert. And it's a promise you intend to keep.

Apprehensive fingers stretch towards the curtain that has shielded you from the light of day for months. The fabric is rough and almost seems to mock you as you grasp it with a trembling, feeble hand. You swallow a hard lump in your throat and take a deep breath, peeling it back with one swift movement.

The sun's rays bathe you in a warm light immediately. It is like a comforting embrace from the heavens above as you bask in the luminosity. The weight bearing down on your chest lifts and for a moment, you can swear that Gilbert's voice is speaking to you.

"You don't have to be lonely anymore, (name)."

A smile more genuine than the one you gave Gilbert blooms across your lips and you nod at the world outside of your window, breathing clear air for the first time in a year.

"You're right, Gilbert. You're right."