Post by Moonflight on May 30, 2014 23:49:56 GMT
(Hello my fellow Hetalians, anime enthusiasts, or people who just like to read dark fanfiction. So this is a fanfic that I've been working on, and is actually on quotev.com as well. It has the same name as this thread so if you want to look it up there, here you go. So yeah if your not familiar with Hetalia or any world history, you probably won't understand what's going on. Though if you DO know what it is or just don't care, is the short synopsis of the story:
Every nation has a dark side to them, and Italy is no different. So what happens when cute, sweet Italy is taken over by his dark and insane side?
So yeah hope you enjoy and this the story is rated PG-13 for a reason. So if your uncomfortable with blood, death, and 2p!talia, then don't read!)
Chapter 1
~Blood Spilled~
The sun's light was a sickening contrast to the scene that was happening beneath its golden light. A form dressed in a sapphire blue suit, sat slumped over, hands trying desperately to hide the shame that leaked from his eyes. Tears streamed down his face as the rest of the gathered nations looked on, the looks on most of their faces filled with a mixture of hatred and pity for the sobbing nation.
Even though it would push his already fragile sense of sanity even closer to the edge of his mind, Italy slowly uncovered his honey brown eyes. His heart twisted at the looks of his friends, no former friends. Italy knew that no one was or had truly been his friends, with the exception of three, but now they too had left him. Two dead, and the other, standing before him, arms crossed, light blue eyes hardened by a deep feeling of hatred for the smaller nation. Italy felt his very soul being ripped to shreds, yet he couldn't bring himself to look away. No, he deserved every second of this for what he had done.
The Italian looked down at his hands and saw the blood dripping from his fingers. The blood from an overly happy Spaniard, and his own brother. The usual shine that glistened in his eyes now disappeared, leaving behind two emotionless holes devoid of anything that resembled the eyes that had once occupied the space.
"I'm... so... sorry... Ger... ma... ny..."
The Italian managed to croak out as he clutched his chest, desperately trying to hold on to any piece if his sanity that still remained. However it was not enough, it had never been enough to try and ward of the evil within him that so desperately wanted to be let free. Raising his head to look at the German, whom he had once cared so much for, he felt his heart break in two. The glare that those light blue eyes gave him broke the nation. There was now no one in this world that cared for him. There was no one who would worry about him. No on at all... The small piece of sanity in Italy's mind suddenly spun closer to the edge of his mind.
There was a loud crack that split the air open followed by the sound of a scream. Italy's eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and shock swimming in them. He turned and looked at Germany, then at the hand that so obviously had struck him.
"Would you just shut the hell up already?!"
Germany paused almost as if collecting himself before continuing.
"When I got that call from Spain, when we all got that call, we couldn't believe it. Now though, as we, as I look at you, and the blood on your hands, I can say with out a doubt, that you are a murderer. Something that I would never want near me ever again. So just stay away from all if us you, murderer."
The words that came from the Germans mouth were ones that Italy had never heard him use before. It shocked not just the Italian, but everyone present at how easily Germany had said those things. Had he really and truly felt like this all this time? Italy closed his eyes and fell to his side, weeping openly, yet no one seemed to care. If anything it only made them hate the nation before them even more.
After what felt like hours, Italy opened his eyes to find himself standing in a bleak and lifeless field, with not a single being to be seen anywhere. He was of course confused at first. That is until a familiar figure appeared before him. The figure seemed to give off a sickly black light that intertwined with the already dead world around them. Italy blinked his eyes and the light seemed to fade away, leaving a figure that made Italy want to sink to his knees and sob.
The figure that resembled him stood there, arms crossed, and was giving off sickening air of insanity and revenge. It was his subconscious that had become twisted over so many years of abuse from those he thought were his... No! He had already given into the temptation once. Italy heard the figure's sickly familiar voice almost purr as it spoke to him.
"Oh you poor thing! You know that all of this can go away if you just let go. Forget about those pathetic low-lifes. They're insignificant compared to you. Just let me take over and you won't have to feel this pain any longer."
The figure's offer was almost too tempting. No, if he let himself crumble what happened to Romano and Spain may happen to someone else... Screwing his eyes shut he wished with all his might to be free of this place, to open his eyes and see Germany, Romano and everyone else, and to have them tell him it had just been a dream and that they all still loved him. No, that could never happen and Italy knew it. No matter how much this persona made it seem as if the pain and torment would simply melt away, Italy knew that wasn't true.
Pain shot through his body as he was pushed to the ground, held there by the boot of the other figure, it's purple eyes staring right through into Italy's very soul. The Italian squirmed, more than eager to break free, some how, and to find his way out of the infernal blackness. A sadistic cackle filled his ears. The very sound of it sent chills down his spine.
"Well, what is it then?"
Italy knew he had to answer. Glaring at his counterpart, he gritted his teeth.
"No, I made that mistake once, and you lied. The pain didn't go away, in fact it got worse."
Italy screwed his eyes closed waiting the pain that his counterpart was sure to inflict on him for his incorporation. Instead the laugh once again filled his ears, driving him even closer to the edge of his sanity. That was his plan after all.
"Fine then brat. Have it your way, but just remember this," the pressure on Italy's face increased, "I'm with you until you die. Until then I'll always be right behind you, ready to take over." A smirk appeared on his face as he pushed Italy away from him with his boot. With a wave of his hand he turned and began to walk away.
"Also, I just wanted to thank you for earlier. I haven't had that much fun in ages! Well, ciao, brat!" He called as the world around Italy began to fade, filling with light.
His eyes suddenly opened to reveal two dark honey brown eyes staring back out at the world, seeing nothing but blood pooling around him. His mind was teetering at the very edge of sanity, and Italy struggled against it. He felt the blood on his hands beginning to soak into his skin, threatening to stain them it's sickly red color. Italy screamed desperate to free himself of this sense of hopelessness that he had felt ever since he had allowed the insanity to overtake him. He still couldn't believe that only last night Romano and Spain and been alive, breathing, with him. But now, their blood had created a horrible work of art on the white marble of Romano's floor.
He couldn't carry on like this any longer. No, the pain that Italy felt in his chest was just too painful. He looked down at the knife that still lay next to him, blood staining the silver of the blade. He closed his eyes in pain and gripped his head with his hands, the pain beginning to spread through his entire body.
The pain, it was too much. He fell to his side still clutching his head. He could feel it shifting within his mind, positioning itself to take over. Italy screamed again, his cry echoing around in the walls of his mind. He felt himself being pulled and tugged on.
'No! Please just make this pain stop!'
"GERMANY!"
Suddenly blackness was all the Italian could see. He blinked his eyes, his heartbeat increasing with each passing second. Italy knew exactly where he was. He turned his head as he looked at the bleak world forming around him. There was nothing but dead grass, and a few dry riverbeds as well. Walking over to one, Italy peered over the bank. He almost vomited at what he saw. When he had first visited here the river had been bone dry. Now, it flowed with blood.
Italy stared down at the red liquid, the world beginning to spin around him. He dropped backwards away from the river of crimson, thankful to have been kneeling. He tried to think what it meant in his already foggy mind.
'Before he killed Spain and Romano, it had been dry, but now after it's...'
Their blood. It was their blood that flowed the river. No, Germany please save me... There was a thud as the Italian fell on his back, calling desperately out for help that he knew would never come. The last thing that he felt before passing out, was the utter fear that a certain German's blood would be running through that river soon.
Chapter 2
~The Darkness of the World~
It's true that the world was full of light. Beautiful light that would shine no matter what. However, it still contained a darkness, a evil that could never be extinguished. If anything it had only grown stronger over time. Luciano Vargas knew this fact quite well. His darkness had almost consumed the whole of the world, if it hadn't been for the those stupid nations. They just didn't get it did they? Obviously not or they would never had put him back inside that idiot Feliciano's mind. They would have just killed him on the spot. What they didn't understand was that every nation has a dark side, and it only takes a little insanity to unleash it.
A pair of violet eyes snapped open. Blinking slowly, visions of blood and despair passed in front of them. A smirk appeared on Luciano's lips, so unlike the person whose face he possessed.
'Am I really free? I knew Feliciano was weak, but this is a little more than I expected. Oh well it just made my job a whole lot easier.'
He thought as his eyes began to wander around the room he was in. Luciano blinked again and held his head as yet another memory flooded his mind.
'Blood, screams, a knife.'
Yes he had seen those two before, and oh had he enjoyed their screams. They were quite a refresher from Feliciano's.
Still smirking he stood and his violet eyes now began an inspection of himself. Luciano frowned at what he saw. His counterpart was weak, not really any muscle could be seen at all. Not only that but this uniform. It was a bright blue, only dulled a little by the blood splattered upon it. Still they were all just minor changes, and he could deal with them for now.
Luciano decided to explore the place a little more before setting out to claim his next victim. Observing the nature of the home around him, he could tell that the person who lived here hadn't been the most organized, not that he really minded or anything.
After a short walk inside, he stopped in the living room again. He had no idea what day it was or how long he had been here. The bodies of his last victims were gone. Bending down next to the pools of blood, Luciano dipped a finger into the red liquid. It was still wet, a good sign that it was still fresh. He licked it, swallowing the crimson substance. Luciano smiled, oh how he loved the taste of blood, especially after he had killed them. Still it was a little old. He wanted more, but nothing old. He wanted fresh blood, he wanted to taste it as his victim's heart still beat. Standing once more and grabbing the knife that still lay on the ground, Luciano made his way over to the front door. A dark plan was already forming in his mind.
'Why shouldn't I show this world the darkness inside of it? I can't wait to taste the blood of those nations that punished this world by locking me away so long ago. What do you think Feliciano? I hope you know how to swim.'
He chuckled. Luciano could almost imagine the river overflowing with the blood of his enemies, it had been so long since it had ever flowed with the red liquid. Well it would now. Still chuckling he threw open the door, letting in the light. Enjoy it while you still can, because it isn't going to last much longer. And with that, Luciano took off, running in the direction of his next unsuspecting victim.
Chapter 3
~Despair~
The light that shone through the open window did nothing to lighten the German's mood. He had his face buried in his hands as he sat at his desk chair. He had come here to try and get some work done before the next world meeting. No matter how he tried though, he just couldn't shake the one question that stilled buzzed through his mind.
'Why?'
It had been three days since Spain and Romano had been killed, by Italy. Just the thought of that day brought so many images to Germany's mind that it threatened to make him sick.
Shaking his head, Germany moved his hands away from his face at the sound of knocking on his door.
"Hey, West, it's been 3 days! Come on, tell big Bruder what's the matter."
Germany narrowed his blue eyes at the sight of his older brother, Prussia.
"What the hell do you think is the matter?!"
He spat, slightly surprised at the volume of his voice. It seemed as if he weren't the only one taken aback by his tone. Prussia flinched slightly, almost as if he had been struck. Suddenly all Germany could see was Italy's face, tear stained and bloody, after he had struck him. A voice rang out.
"WEST?!"
Germany shook his head again and the image cleared revealing an anxious looking Prussia inches from his face. Worry for his younger brother was in his eyes. Germany pushed him away a bit, not at all comfortable at how close to his face his brother was.
Germany stared down at his desk, and no matter how hard Prussia tried to make him look at him, the German simply wouldn't. The Prussian sighed, and Germany could hear his foot steps as he walked away.
"Fine, I was only trying to help you know."
He paused for a moment before chuckling a little to himself.
"I guess really it's because I myself am feeling the same way as you. Also, I've never seen you looking so lost and depressed. Even in your worst times you would always keep trying."
With that, Prussia turned and walked down the hallway, heading away from his brother's office. Germany sighed and thought about what his brother had said. It was kind if funny how he now chooses to start acting like a big brother.
'It seems as if the whole world is beginning to change'
The German released a sigh. It seemed real enough, and right now Germany needed something anything that he knew was real to hold onto. Everything that had happened in the past few days just hadn't made any sense.
He turned his head and stared unblinking out the large glass window behind his desk. The warm sunlight beamed in, lighting up both the room and his face. A frown still remained, deep set into his face. Spain, Romano... The hard task of their funerals still lay ahead of him, and then what? He knew that a few of the other nations had begun to plan to catch and execute Italy. Italy... Germany stood and turned his back to the window, letting the darkness if the shadows mingle with the darkness and despair that drenched his soul.
'Why do you always have to make everything so difficult for me?!'
Germany's gloved fist pounded in the desk with a full thud. Pain began to bloom in his hand, yet he payed it no mind. Nothing could compete with the pain that he felt at the loss of his sweet, kind Italian...
'Italy...'
Prussia fought back the urge to rush in and hug his brother. What he said had been true. The last time he had seen his brother like this was back in at the end of WW2, to be exact, it had been the day that Italy had... Prussia could still see that excruciatingly painful day even now. The Prussian peered around the corner and looked into the room. His red eyes caught the sight of Germany, the once proud and commanding nation, down on his knees, begging for something. Prussia strained to hear what he was saying, but it was too quiet. Sighing quietly to himself, Prussia quietly stood and with one last look at the despairing German, walked down the hall for real this time. He himself knew that this was going to be a tough day for all of them, not just the nations close to the fallen countries, no for EVERYone. Prussia had reached his door. He pushed it open and walked in. As soon as he was sure he was out of earshot of Germany, the Prussian dropped onto his bed sobbing for the loss of 2 of his good friends.
Every nation has a dark side to them, and Italy is no different. So what happens when cute, sweet Italy is taken over by his dark and insane side?
So yeah hope you enjoy and this the story is rated PG-13 for a reason. So if your uncomfortable with blood, death, and 2p!talia, then don't read!)
Chapter 1
~Blood Spilled~
The sun's light was a sickening contrast to the scene that was happening beneath its golden light. A form dressed in a sapphire blue suit, sat slumped over, hands trying desperately to hide the shame that leaked from his eyes. Tears streamed down his face as the rest of the gathered nations looked on, the looks on most of their faces filled with a mixture of hatred and pity for the sobbing nation.
Even though it would push his already fragile sense of sanity even closer to the edge of his mind, Italy slowly uncovered his honey brown eyes. His heart twisted at the looks of his friends, no former friends. Italy knew that no one was or had truly been his friends, with the exception of three, but now they too had left him. Two dead, and the other, standing before him, arms crossed, light blue eyes hardened by a deep feeling of hatred for the smaller nation. Italy felt his very soul being ripped to shreds, yet he couldn't bring himself to look away. No, he deserved every second of this for what he had done.
The Italian looked down at his hands and saw the blood dripping from his fingers. The blood from an overly happy Spaniard, and his own brother. The usual shine that glistened in his eyes now disappeared, leaving behind two emotionless holes devoid of anything that resembled the eyes that had once occupied the space.
"I'm... so... sorry... Ger... ma... ny..."
The Italian managed to croak out as he clutched his chest, desperately trying to hold on to any piece if his sanity that still remained. However it was not enough, it had never been enough to try and ward of the evil within him that so desperately wanted to be let free. Raising his head to look at the German, whom he had once cared so much for, he felt his heart break in two. The glare that those light blue eyes gave him broke the nation. There was now no one in this world that cared for him. There was no one who would worry about him. No on at all... The small piece of sanity in Italy's mind suddenly spun closer to the edge of his mind.
There was a loud crack that split the air open followed by the sound of a scream. Italy's eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and shock swimming in them. He turned and looked at Germany, then at the hand that so obviously had struck him.
"Would you just shut the hell up already?!"
Germany paused almost as if collecting himself before continuing.
"When I got that call from Spain, when we all got that call, we couldn't believe it. Now though, as we, as I look at you, and the blood on your hands, I can say with out a doubt, that you are a murderer. Something that I would never want near me ever again. So just stay away from all if us you, murderer."
The words that came from the Germans mouth were ones that Italy had never heard him use before. It shocked not just the Italian, but everyone present at how easily Germany had said those things. Had he really and truly felt like this all this time? Italy closed his eyes and fell to his side, weeping openly, yet no one seemed to care. If anything it only made them hate the nation before them even more.
After what felt like hours, Italy opened his eyes to find himself standing in a bleak and lifeless field, with not a single being to be seen anywhere. He was of course confused at first. That is until a familiar figure appeared before him. The figure seemed to give off a sickly black light that intertwined with the already dead world around them. Italy blinked his eyes and the light seemed to fade away, leaving a figure that made Italy want to sink to his knees and sob.
The figure that resembled him stood there, arms crossed, and was giving off sickening air of insanity and revenge. It was his subconscious that had become twisted over so many years of abuse from those he thought were his... No! He had already given into the temptation once. Italy heard the figure's sickly familiar voice almost purr as it spoke to him.
"Oh you poor thing! You know that all of this can go away if you just let go. Forget about those pathetic low-lifes. They're insignificant compared to you. Just let me take over and you won't have to feel this pain any longer."
The figure's offer was almost too tempting. No, if he let himself crumble what happened to Romano and Spain may happen to someone else... Screwing his eyes shut he wished with all his might to be free of this place, to open his eyes and see Germany, Romano and everyone else, and to have them tell him it had just been a dream and that they all still loved him. No, that could never happen and Italy knew it. No matter how much this persona made it seem as if the pain and torment would simply melt away, Italy knew that wasn't true.
Pain shot through his body as he was pushed to the ground, held there by the boot of the other figure, it's purple eyes staring right through into Italy's very soul. The Italian squirmed, more than eager to break free, some how, and to find his way out of the infernal blackness. A sadistic cackle filled his ears. The very sound of it sent chills down his spine.
"Well, what is it then?"
Italy knew he had to answer. Glaring at his counterpart, he gritted his teeth.
"No, I made that mistake once, and you lied. The pain didn't go away, in fact it got worse."
Italy screwed his eyes closed waiting the pain that his counterpart was sure to inflict on him for his incorporation. Instead the laugh once again filled his ears, driving him even closer to the edge of his sanity. That was his plan after all.
"Fine then brat. Have it your way, but just remember this," the pressure on Italy's face increased, "I'm with you until you die. Until then I'll always be right behind you, ready to take over." A smirk appeared on his face as he pushed Italy away from him with his boot. With a wave of his hand he turned and began to walk away.
"Also, I just wanted to thank you for earlier. I haven't had that much fun in ages! Well, ciao, brat!" He called as the world around Italy began to fade, filling with light.
His eyes suddenly opened to reveal two dark honey brown eyes staring back out at the world, seeing nothing but blood pooling around him. His mind was teetering at the very edge of sanity, and Italy struggled against it. He felt the blood on his hands beginning to soak into his skin, threatening to stain them it's sickly red color. Italy screamed desperate to free himself of this sense of hopelessness that he had felt ever since he had allowed the insanity to overtake him. He still couldn't believe that only last night Romano and Spain and been alive, breathing, with him. But now, their blood had created a horrible work of art on the white marble of Romano's floor.
He couldn't carry on like this any longer. No, the pain that Italy felt in his chest was just too painful. He looked down at the knife that still lay next to him, blood staining the silver of the blade. He closed his eyes in pain and gripped his head with his hands, the pain beginning to spread through his entire body.
The pain, it was too much. He fell to his side still clutching his head. He could feel it shifting within his mind, positioning itself to take over. Italy screamed again, his cry echoing around in the walls of his mind. He felt himself being pulled and tugged on.
'No! Please just make this pain stop!'
"GERMANY!"
Suddenly blackness was all the Italian could see. He blinked his eyes, his heartbeat increasing with each passing second. Italy knew exactly where he was. He turned his head as he looked at the bleak world forming around him. There was nothing but dead grass, and a few dry riverbeds as well. Walking over to one, Italy peered over the bank. He almost vomited at what he saw. When he had first visited here the river had been bone dry. Now, it flowed with blood.
Italy stared down at the red liquid, the world beginning to spin around him. He dropped backwards away from the river of crimson, thankful to have been kneeling. He tried to think what it meant in his already foggy mind.
'Before he killed Spain and Romano, it had been dry, but now after it's...'
Their blood. It was their blood that flowed the river. No, Germany please save me... There was a thud as the Italian fell on his back, calling desperately out for help that he knew would never come. The last thing that he felt before passing out, was the utter fear that a certain German's blood would be running through that river soon.
Chapter 2
~The Darkness of the World~
It's true that the world was full of light. Beautiful light that would shine no matter what. However, it still contained a darkness, a evil that could never be extinguished. If anything it had only grown stronger over time. Luciano Vargas knew this fact quite well. His darkness had almost consumed the whole of the world, if it hadn't been for the those stupid nations. They just didn't get it did they? Obviously not or they would never had put him back inside that idiot Feliciano's mind. They would have just killed him on the spot. What they didn't understand was that every nation has a dark side, and it only takes a little insanity to unleash it.
A pair of violet eyes snapped open. Blinking slowly, visions of blood and despair passed in front of them. A smirk appeared on Luciano's lips, so unlike the person whose face he possessed.
'Am I really free? I knew Feliciano was weak, but this is a little more than I expected. Oh well it just made my job a whole lot easier.'
He thought as his eyes began to wander around the room he was in. Luciano blinked again and held his head as yet another memory flooded his mind.
'Blood, screams, a knife.'
Yes he had seen those two before, and oh had he enjoyed their screams. They were quite a refresher from Feliciano's.
Still smirking he stood and his violet eyes now began an inspection of himself. Luciano frowned at what he saw. His counterpart was weak, not really any muscle could be seen at all. Not only that but this uniform. It was a bright blue, only dulled a little by the blood splattered upon it. Still they were all just minor changes, and he could deal with them for now.
Luciano decided to explore the place a little more before setting out to claim his next victim. Observing the nature of the home around him, he could tell that the person who lived here hadn't been the most organized, not that he really minded or anything.
After a short walk inside, he stopped in the living room again. He had no idea what day it was or how long he had been here. The bodies of his last victims were gone. Bending down next to the pools of blood, Luciano dipped a finger into the red liquid. It was still wet, a good sign that it was still fresh. He licked it, swallowing the crimson substance. Luciano smiled, oh how he loved the taste of blood, especially after he had killed them. Still it was a little old. He wanted more, but nothing old. He wanted fresh blood, he wanted to taste it as his victim's heart still beat. Standing once more and grabbing the knife that still lay on the ground, Luciano made his way over to the front door. A dark plan was already forming in his mind.
'Why shouldn't I show this world the darkness inside of it? I can't wait to taste the blood of those nations that punished this world by locking me away so long ago. What do you think Feliciano? I hope you know how to swim.'
He chuckled. Luciano could almost imagine the river overflowing with the blood of his enemies, it had been so long since it had ever flowed with the red liquid. Well it would now. Still chuckling he threw open the door, letting in the light. Enjoy it while you still can, because it isn't going to last much longer. And with that, Luciano took off, running in the direction of his next unsuspecting victim.
Chapter 3
~Despair~
The light that shone through the open window did nothing to lighten the German's mood. He had his face buried in his hands as he sat at his desk chair. He had come here to try and get some work done before the next world meeting. No matter how he tried though, he just couldn't shake the one question that stilled buzzed through his mind.
'Why?'
It had been three days since Spain and Romano had been killed, by Italy. Just the thought of that day brought so many images to Germany's mind that it threatened to make him sick.
Shaking his head, Germany moved his hands away from his face at the sound of knocking on his door.
"Hey, West, it's been 3 days! Come on, tell big Bruder what's the matter."
Germany narrowed his blue eyes at the sight of his older brother, Prussia.
"What the hell do you think is the matter?!"
He spat, slightly surprised at the volume of his voice. It seemed as if he weren't the only one taken aback by his tone. Prussia flinched slightly, almost as if he had been struck. Suddenly all Germany could see was Italy's face, tear stained and bloody, after he had struck him. A voice rang out.
"WEST?!"
Germany shook his head again and the image cleared revealing an anxious looking Prussia inches from his face. Worry for his younger brother was in his eyes. Germany pushed him away a bit, not at all comfortable at how close to his face his brother was.
Germany stared down at his desk, and no matter how hard Prussia tried to make him look at him, the German simply wouldn't. The Prussian sighed, and Germany could hear his foot steps as he walked away.
"Fine, I was only trying to help you know."
He paused for a moment before chuckling a little to himself.
"I guess really it's because I myself am feeling the same way as you. Also, I've never seen you looking so lost and depressed. Even in your worst times you would always keep trying."
With that, Prussia turned and walked down the hallway, heading away from his brother's office. Germany sighed and thought about what his brother had said. It was kind if funny how he now chooses to start acting like a big brother.
'It seems as if the whole world is beginning to change'
The German released a sigh. It seemed real enough, and right now Germany needed something anything that he knew was real to hold onto. Everything that had happened in the past few days just hadn't made any sense.
He turned his head and stared unblinking out the large glass window behind his desk. The warm sunlight beamed in, lighting up both the room and his face. A frown still remained, deep set into his face. Spain, Romano... The hard task of their funerals still lay ahead of him, and then what? He knew that a few of the other nations had begun to plan to catch and execute Italy. Italy... Germany stood and turned his back to the window, letting the darkness if the shadows mingle with the darkness and despair that drenched his soul.
'Why do you always have to make everything so difficult for me?!'
Germany's gloved fist pounded in the desk with a full thud. Pain began to bloom in his hand, yet he payed it no mind. Nothing could compete with the pain that he felt at the loss of his sweet, kind Italian...
'Italy...'
Prussia fought back the urge to rush in and hug his brother. What he said had been true. The last time he had seen his brother like this was back in at the end of WW2, to be exact, it had been the day that Italy had... Prussia could still see that excruciatingly painful day even now. The Prussian peered around the corner and looked into the room. His red eyes caught the sight of Germany, the once proud and commanding nation, down on his knees, begging for something. Prussia strained to hear what he was saying, but it was too quiet. Sighing quietly to himself, Prussia quietly stood and with one last look at the despairing German, walked down the hall for real this time. He himself knew that this was going to be a tough day for all of them, not just the nations close to the fallen countries, no for EVERYone. Prussia had reached his door. He pushed it open and walked in. As soon as he was sure he was out of earshot of Germany, the Prussian dropped onto his bed sobbing for the loss of 2 of his good friends.
Feli. What did you do?