"The choices I made were my own...and I do not regret them."
It's almost as if he's practiced these words, as if he's said them over and over into a mirror, until he could whisper them to himself while he slept. White hair danced in the wind.
The sky was a bright blue that day, the day where everything was lost. Sun shone, leaves danced in the golden light.
His friends hadn't even come. Hadn't come to see the betrayer lose his head. What friends they were. He was still their best friend, the one who had always been their for him. Apparently his sin was too great to overlook.
But god damn it, he was beautiful in the light.
"Gilbert Beilschmidt, you are hearby sentenced to death for the crime of killing Natalya Braginsky." His brother spoke quietly, the poor, poor man. It's not everyday you have to kill the ones you loved, the ones you thought you knew.
He bowed his head, and his hands trembled. The accused grinned. "I'd say I'm sorry, West..." He trailed off, the grin vanishing. "But I'm not."
"D-Do you..." Ludwig cleared his throat, and the people watching were deadly silent. The only sound was of the wind scattering leaves along the ground. "Do you have any other final words...?"
His crimson eyes scanned the crowd, for a particular set of eyes. There! Right at the front. The violet were downcast, guilty. Pale hands toyed with the fringe of a scarf. Gilbert laughed, and the man jumped, their eyes meeting.
"Ich libe dich, ja? And don't forget it."
Infectuous laughter rang through his ears.
SWOOSH.
The violet eyed man watched, unable to move.
"Ivan?"
It was Gilbert. Christ Almighty, what if he found him like this?
Quickly he slammed the door shut, tossing the body in the bathtub and turning the sink on full blast, ridding himself of the blood. "D-Da! I-I'm in the bathroom!"
"Oh, okay. Hey, where'd Natalya go? You finally pried her away from you for a bit, huh? Kesese!" His infectuous laughter rang through the empty house.
"Heh, y-yeah..." He'd find the blood in the hall, no doubt...damn, he should've cleaned up after himself. The blood had trailed all the way into the bathroom. Muttering curses, he threw the knife carelessly into the bathtub. A sickening squealch met his ears, and he flinched.
Footsteps headed towards the kitchen caught Ivan's immediate attention. They suddenly stopped, followed by a small squeaking sound. Gilbert had gone uncharacteristally silent. Ivan waited an entire minute. "G-Gil?"
No answer. Ivan's breathing hitched. His stomach twisted into a knot. Usually he wasn't this careless. He always cleaned up after himself.
"...Ivan. Open the door." Ivan jumped. The German's voice had become very soft.
"N-No!"
"Are you hiding something?"
"Of course not!"
The knob rattled. "Stand back."
Ivan hid in the corner, arms covering his face. The door was kicked open and Gilbert strode in, cool red eyes surveying the scene. His face went pale as he saw the blood. Reeling, he caught himself on the door.
Ivan began to shake with sobs. "I'm so sorry, Gilbert..."
Gilbert took a few steps forward, peering into the tub. He gasped at what he saw.
The broken body of Natalya Braginsky lay, one arm twisted behind her back horrible. A bone was popped out of her shoulder. Her hair was matted with her own blood and her eyes were wide open. A terrifying smile sat on her lips. Her legs were twisted at odd angles, too, and there was a huge hole missing from her chest. Gilbert could see inside of her...and all the blood...
"M-My..." Ivan sobbed from the corner.
Warm, gentle arms wound around him and held him close. Gilbert murmured a string of words in German to calm down the Russian man. After a while, his sobs subsided. "A-Aren't you afraid of me?" He inquired quietly, violet eyes meeting crimson.
Gilbert sighed, scratching at a blood-stained patch on Ivan's shoulder. "Your clothes are all bloodstained..."
Ivan grabbed Gilbert's shoulders. "You didn't answer my question."
Gilbert leaned forwards, pressing his lips to Ivan in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. After a moment, he pulled away. "No. Ich libe dich, Ivan. I could never fear you." Helping Ivan stand up, he led him to their shared bedroom.
Gilbert stripped Ivan's coat off of him slowly, laying the coat on the bed standing next to them. He inspected Ivan, searching for any wounds, and Ivan pressed greedy lips against Gilbert's. Gilbert sighed, hands on Ivan's chest. "Now? Of all times?"
"I'll be gone soon, da. I won't bother you anymore. I'll take my punishment." Ivan's mouth moved down to Gilbert's neck, biting and nibbling as he pressed Gilbert between him and the wall. Gilbert shoved him away suddenly, glaring coldly. "No."
"No?" Ivan inquired, stumbling back a few feet but keeping his balance.
"I'm not letting you die." Gilbert retaliated, striding forwards and forcing their lips to meet once again.
"W-What do you suppose, then? I-I'll die for this..." Ivan mumbled around the kiss.
Gilbert began to rid the both of them of their clothing, without breaking the kiss. Gilbert didn't answer the question, as his hands wandered down Ivan's body.
Ivan collapsed onto to the bed. "Gil..." Gilbert released him, making Ivan whine while eyeing Gilbert lustfully as he tore off his own jacket and his shirt. He stood in front of Ivan. His eyes were unreadable. "Ivan, I am never letting you go."
Ivan opened his mouth, but the Prussian was suddenly on top of him, and all his thoughts were stopped in their tracks.
He was gone the next morning, with only a note in place. Only three words on it.
Gilbert Beilschmidt had confessed to everything. His clothes were stained with the blood of the victim. His fingerprints on the murder weapon. Everything had pointed to him.
So he was convicted to a public death at his own request. His final request.
Ivan stared at his love's bloodied, headless corpse. Those red eyes would never look at him again. And it was all his fault.
He began to sob, shoulders shaking. His older sister wound her arms around him, murmuring apologies for even bringing him to see this.
Ich libe dich, ja? And don't forget it.
"I love you too, Gil." Ivan murmured. "My fault..."
"Nothing's your fault, Ivan..." Kat pressed a kiss to his forehead, which made him sob harder. The people cleared out until they were the last two standing there. Gilbert's body had been taken from the scene.
Kat finally went home at Ivan's request.
Ivan stood there for three days straight, thanking Gilbert for everything.
Just never do it again, alright? There are better ways to take out anger.
...Alright, Gil. For you.
For me? Aww, aintcha sweet.
Infectuous laughter rang through his ears, and he almost smiled.
{AN}
So, I've never written anything sad...like, HREALLY SAD. Death sad. And I was like, "Who is the most depressing couple?"
The answer, obviously, is RusPrus. Russia DID take complete control of him, (I think) took all his power, and yet THEY STILL LOVE EACH OTHER! (not really.) And I was like, "Who is the creepiest couple?"
I'm occasionally a fan of incest (if it's well-written and pretty :3 I AM NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT, PEOPLE.) but not in BelaRuss' case. That's just plain creepy. So I decided to kill Natalya. Fun fun fun.
R&R, and I love you all. Except haters. And I especially love you trolls out there. 3's to you.
-Wren-