captain-ruscaymada-blog

[captain-ruscaymada-blog]

breathe [eduardo rusca]

hello! so here’s my first heneral luna fanfic/x-reader! i really hope it’s good! i plan to translate this to tagalog if ever i have time. anyway, i love this fandom and it’s crazy how much the movie gave me a whole new perspective towards a great character in philippine history! anyway, hope you enjoy!

pairing: eduardo rusca x reader

type: angst

point of view: second (reader’s)

summary: captain eduardo rusca was never the same after the assassination and death of his only family.

word count: 712 [short]

listen: Collide by Howie Day

BREATHE

It wasn’t like it was unexpected or anything. 

When Captain Eduardo Rusca was released from captivity, you could see in his eyes that something was different. Well, everyone could actually. It came to the point where, even if he did smile, his eyes looked so forlorn and distant- like he was taken back to the time before the event of General Luna’s death. 

You closed your eyes, recalling certain moment during the war. The said captain would laugh along with you on the battlefield, often joking about how he wasn’t convinced you were a woman, and you’d retort with a slew of curse words, saying that women could offer their lives for the land they grew to love. You could see that there was something in his eyes and how he’d try to ask you out for ensaymada and tea after some battles. You would smack him at those words, but still accepting the offer in the end. You’d find yourselves in those well-toned arms, listening to his soft breathing and the thumping of his metronome heart.

He could make you laugh even when death was staring right back at you.

Your thoughts drifted to more frustrating days. You worked in a war-zone after all, and that certainly didn’t add up to just smiles and laughter. No, there were days when you’d break down. Heart wrenching and mouth cursing, you would watch your comrades, your friends- your one family fall one by one. Slowly and painstakingly, each second felt like eternity. But he was there still, he was still breathing. 

Rusca, however, would hold you as you cried. You would breathe heavily against his chest, sobbing and cursing. He would breathe out slowly as well, and you could tell he was stopping his own tears from falling. It was in the way he held you that made you feel like you could keep going. So you kept going, praying for this war to finally end just so you could finally have the guts to confess to him in a place that wasn’t a war-zone.

It seemed like it was too late for that.

Just when you finally thought you could man up and confess, he came back from his trip to Cavite, bruised and battered- his heart wrecked and broken. All you could do was watch him continue to breathe. Just when he needed you the most, you couldn’t be there for him. The one person who made living seem like a blessing was now living as if his was a curse. He blamed himself for everything, and you would do anything to take his place.

He stopped eating ensaymada. There was something in the cheesy pastry that made him puke. He stopped laughing and cracking jokes in the battlefield. There was nothing but bloodlust in his eyes now, even towards his fellow Filipinos. He lost something in him that day. You lost him that day.

You watched as he stood in front of you, gun aimed to his temple and finger placed perfectly against the trigger. You watched speechlessly, breathing heavily as he gave you a smile. You couldn’t tell if it was genuine or forced. You watched his lips move, and his hoarse voice coming out in perfectly timed lapses.

I’m.

           Sorry.

                          I.

                                    Love.

                                                You.

You watched him close his eyes, directing his attention to the blue sky up above. He smiled, taking deep breaths until it slowed down. You started screaming as you watched him tense up. You ran forward, reaching for the gun. Reaching for his hand. Reaching for him.

He pulled the trigger.

And he fell- beautifully, peacefully and slowly, as the ringing sound of the gun echoed in your ears. Your hands flew up to your mouth as you continued running. Praying and hoping to whatever God that was out there that he was still alive. That he somehow missed his head and the bullet went sailing through the air. That somehow he was still breathing. That he was okay. That he could stand up straight and you would smack him for his idiocy. And you would hug him- hold him. And you would tell him to just breathe. But no-

Captain Eduardo Rusca had fallen.

And all you could do was breathe.

[captain-ruscaymada-blog]

One day we’ll reveal the truth. That one will die before he gets there.