Hello my dears. Another tearjerker for you all, especially if you happen to know about the Hetalia Hunger Games on tumblr. My lovely 2p Italy, Luciano, is once again in it, as well as my friend's Scotland, Alistair. I ship Scotalia very much now, so this is a little tragedy that will make everyone cry. I edited it from what it was before, so now it's even better! Enjoy!

Blood was seeping through the back of his jacket and shirt, the material as torn and tattered as the skin beneath it. A gasp was strangled, as if the lips of the contestant was attempting to not let the cry of pain be heard. A thin trail of red liquid seeped from his lips, the source being the lip that was harshly bitten to keep from making a sound. Leaning against a broken ruin, of what looked like a wall, the nation glanced around the edge, waiting to see if the monster would appear again. The damn thing had separated him from his partner. The German had ran the opposite of where he directed him to. Honestly, was it that hard to follow directions?

For all he knew, the damn nation was dead.

And deep inside of him, spite was causing him to wish he had ran into that bloody creature and died by its hands; maybe then he would have wished they had stayed together.

It was getting increasingly irritating for the man to deal with having a partner. He could admit he was a control freak at certain situations, but only because he knew how to properly react in them. With someone else by his side… It was rather difficult to put their reactions into perspective. Leaning back against the crumbling wall, the Italian had to rest, the world spinning slightly as his lungs begged for air. Being fast sure came in handy at times like these. Biting his lip even more to contain the loud gasps for breath, he gripped the material above his heart, feeling the rapid pounding underneath the shirt and jacket.

The minutes passed by, stressful and tense. He knew that thing wasn't dead. He had killed one of them, but then another popped out of nowhere and attacked him from behind with razor sharp claws. Slowly his heartbeat returned to normal, an unsteady rhythm. There had been no sign that the grey monster had followed him. He was safe, at least for the moment.

He had to keep moving or else he'd die.

Pulling himself away from the wall, the auburn haired man shook his head, wincing as he felt grit coating his wound. He wouldn't have been able to dress the wound properly due to where it was located. Tired eyes surveyed the area, spotting the beginning of the forest that would lead to the river. He would be able to find more shelter there, and the thing wouldn't follow him. Screw his partner; he was better off alone until the final few.

Pushing himself forward, he cautiously made his way to the edge of the tree line, ears alert for any sound that was out of the ordinary. He paused quickly near a grouping of thick trees, their branches and trunks winding around each other providing the perfect cover. He had heard something, but it had been far too quiet for him to be certain. He wasn't going to take a chance.

Stooping down low while his right hand dropped to draw his assault knife from its sheath, the man pressed himself up against the trees, not able to peer through the branches to get a good look on who, or what, was approaching his general direction. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, the light shining bright in his eyes with the prospect of a soon-to-be-kill. Whoever it was, he would kill them before they could do the same unto him. Because of him unable to get a visual on his new prey, his gun wouldn't be useful. He needed to conserve his ammo.

Snap.

His eyes widened. That was close, far too close for his liking. It was the sound of a twig snapping underneath a boot. It had to be a nation, but who? They didn't sound too muscular, nor the sound of one who was light of foot. Whoever it was…. They were as good as dead. He waited as the footsteps got closer, straining to hear them on the softly packed dirt. Just a bit closer…. A bit more.

With a silent snarl pulling back his lips, he twirled around the trunk and leaped at the person, landing hard on their chest to bring them down. Within a split second, he had his knife about ready to pierce through their clothes into their heart to provide a quick clean kill, but he paused. It wasn't because of the rapier he suddenly had to block, it was because he recognized the red hair of the man below him. Out of the many nations here, how the bloody hell was he lucky enough to have run into him?

"L-Luciano?"

He was quiet, staring down at the man, refusing to lower his weapon until the other had. Eyes quickly flickered from the now lowering weapon back to his face. He rolled off of him, hesitant. The other didn't show any signs of aggression, only tension, so he figured he was safe for no-…. What the hell was he thinking? After what happened the last games, and before these own games, he trusted Alistair… And here he was trying to think of him as simply another nation that could be killed. He rubbed his head, sitting on the ground to soothe his aching head.

Alistair trusted him too… Right? How could he had doubted him? It made his head spin in disappointment.

"Damn it Luciano, look at me!" The Scotsman looked conflicted, a variety of emotions running through his eyes as he forced him to look up at him, gripping his chin. The smaller man glared slightly up at him, although there was no anger, only confusion.

"Yae are more to me than a friend, yae got that? I trusted yae with my life and I'd trust yae now with my body and soul. Yae're scared that yae'll get used and left behind by someone yae love and never be able to trust them again." The Italian flinched back slightly, but was held in place by Alistair, the latter refusing to let him back away from this. How could he say such a thing? More than a friend? What the hell did that mean then? What exactly did he see him as? The determination in those eyes, he meant it from his heart. The red-haired nation's voice got softer as he continued.

"But yae know what? If I got to know yae enough to be as close to yae as I am now, then yae should know by now that I'd never use yae! Being here and being with someone I can trust means the world to me." Luciano closed his eyes. His emotions whirled inside of him. Someone had placed their trust in him. Why would anyone ever do that?

Was that true what he had said? It had to have been, Alistair didn't look like one to betray those he trusted… He mentioned that before… Yes… How could he have forgotten that? He almost laughed out loud at what had been said, but he composed himself, looking at the man with an amused grin.

"Funny running into you here… I thought you might have fled the ruins after the mansion caught fire."

"I'm guessing that all had to do with yae? I wasn't able to get my supplies thanks to yaer work." Alistair only got a smirk in response, eyes glinting with pride on his work. He had been attempting to kill most of those grey creatures that he guessed were inside the blasted building but apparently they were smarter than he gave them credit before. Damn.

"Wake up!"

He wasn't aware that he had toppled over in a dead faint until he found himself opening his eyes from where he lay on the ground, only supported by the Scotsman. Confusion dwelled in his eyes, looking around. Hating looking too weak, he rolled away from him and got back onto his feet, ignoring the sway of his body as it attempted to recalibrate his balance after his fainting spell.

"Luciano, yae're hurt… Yae were out for a few minutes."

"I'm fine." The words were issued with a less than sharp tone, one of a soldier that was wounded but too prideful to admit that he needed help. He had gone through worse, so this was nothing. Crimson eyes that were once bright and alert were now dull and filled with pain. His face was pulled tight, skin paler than normal due to blood loss. It was obvious how dangerous the situation was for the Italian, even when he was far too prideful to admit it to himself. Alistair knew better though, and by gods, the Italian was going to listen to him.

"Yae are not fine, lad. Sit down and let me look at that." The Scotsman was met with a half-hearted growl, shoved aside by the stubborn nation as he tried to stand straight again. He could feel his back wetter than he remembered.

"We have to keep moving… Someone or something will find us if we - "

"As if I care? Shut up and sit down, yae bloody thing!" A pained whimper met his actions as he forced the Italian down, accidentally having disturbed his wound. The auburn haired man gripped the ground, dirt balling up in his gloves as he fought to keep his pain contained inside of him. Don't show weakness… That was installed into him from such a young age by his nonno. Never look weak. Stay strong. Petrify those weaker than you with an overwhelming urge to just surrender. None of that was helping anymore; his body was winning in this case.

To look weak was to let yourself become those you looked down upon. Strength is the only way to get ahead in this world. Fight, or be conquered.

How had the wound have been that bad? Was it because he had ignored it for half an hour because of him needing to get away? All these questions swam through his mind as Scotland began to strip his jacket off of him, using Luciano's own knife to cut the cloth into strips to provide somewhat of a bandage so that he wouldn't lose any more blood.

Luciano simply sat there, allowing the Scottish man to do what he wanted, eyes glassed over. He was in no position to argue at the moment. The only way to get through this with any more sharp words and annoying chides was to simply let the damn Scotsman do what he wanted. His eyes began to droop, a strange tiredness overcoming him. He was so tired…

Crack.

Dread trickled down his spine, mind suddenly sharp as blood froze in his veins. No. It couldn't be. It was like America's slow motion movie scenes, time having slowed down as the fight or flight instincts took over, allowing reaction times to be activated instantly without thinking. The second it took him to throw Alistair out of the way was lost to him, knife making its way into his hands as it then danced around, slicing at grey flesh. Blood splattered on the ground, a roar echoing through the beginnings of the forest.

The creature.

"Shit."

Luciano sprang into action, blocking the next swipe, which just nearly took off the bandages on his back. He could smell the disgusting odor of blood and organs coming from its mouth, sharp teeth just waiting for its next victims. He saw Scotland stare up at the thing, holding his sword in a defensive position.

"What the hell is that!" Luciano rolled his eyes.

"Don't ask questions, just kill it!" he snarled, feeling Alistair brush past him and cleanly slice off one of the hands of the thing, causing it to let out a roar of pain and anger. He blinked for only a second and the creature was gone from where Alistair had been. What? They didn't just vanish. Where did it? He looked around, seeing the red-haired nation look as lost as he was, sword still dripping the blood that was spilled moments before.

There was a sound, a whisper of something brushing up against a blade of grass and he spun with his gun now in hand, intent of shooting the brains out of the creature. His trigger finger nearly twitched, but shock suddenly filled his system as he was lifted into the air, one of its claws protruding from his back. Blood dribbled down his chest, body numb to the pain at the moment, barely even registering the fact that he had been run through. It took a split second of Alistair screaming his name, such a faroff voice in the sudden deafness, for him to shoot the gun. The bullet embedded itself into its brain right when it threw him to the ground. There was a screech of pain and a thud. He watched the monster drop, landing hard on the ground, ears ringing gently with the sound of gentle ringing.

The pain was excruciating. He could feel the warm blood pooling out from his chest, a strange sensation; it matched his heartbeat, drowning out the other sounds as his hearing came back. Thud, thud thud. His vision was slowly beginning to go, but he could still make out the Scotsman's face as he was being cradled in his arms. He kept slowly blinking, trying to keep him in sharp focus.

"Luciano? Luciano! Stay with me! Shyte!" The nation frantically tried pressing against the gaping wound with little success on stopping the bleeding, red liquid coating the ground and his hands.

"Shouldn't you be trying to win this? God… you nations get…. So emotional…" He would be fine, he just wanted to rest. Alistair's shoulder was getting more comfortable the more he lay against it, eyelids threatening to close. Why were the nations of this world so emotional? So similar in a few aspects, but bordering on opposites for others. If this had happened in their world, things would have been different, but perhaps having someone worried about you was… It was…

"Don't close yaer eyes!"

He almost flinched at the pleas to remain awake, the voice was so loud. Red eyes fluttered back open to obey those words regardless, almost a mechanical response. He forced his hand to move up to place it against Alistair's cheek, the movement so complicated as his strength was leaving him. He had to hold on… He couldn't just leave like this, not without… Those eyes suddenly held a fire to them, a warning that he was still in control of himself, at least for the moment; he wouldn't go without this. Staring deep into those dark Scottish eyes, the Italian nation waited, hearing the man's accented voice fade away into the forest. Leaning in, their lips met in the briefest of kisses. A gentle ghostly touch, so chaste it was like it never happened.

Say it.

Say it!

He tasted salt and blinked weakly as the man pulled back, spying the tears that had begun to pour down his face. Feeling something wet on his own cheeks, he realized that he had shed a tear himself. Crying? How… He barely was able to realize that when he collapsed against his chest, the sun blinding him from where it shone in the sky before everything started to drag him into darkness, taking him away from the warmth, from the man who was cradling his body. No, he had to say it! Those words. Before he left, he had to! Straining to part his lips, blood sputtered from them, preventing three words from coming forth.

"No stay wi-"

"-ciano!"

"-ve yae…"

With a soft sigh, those brilliant eyes closed, unable to feel or hear the frantic shaking and yells of his companion.

"Don't go!"