This is my first HetaOni fic. I'm not very good when it comes to serious writing, but I hope everyone enjoys the story.
The itsy bitsy spider,
Climbed up the water spout,
Down came the rain,
And washed the spider out,
Out came the sun,
And dried up all the rain…
…
The shadow cast by that mansion swallowed them like a starving man; like the cover of death.
A young looking brunet nation felt a chill run through his body now that he stood before the mansion, yet again. Though, it wasn't because of the lack of sun.
How Italy loathed this place, and everything that had happened within it; everything that was now nothing more than forgotten memories in his companions minds. But as much as he hated this mansion, he couldn't help but hate himself a thousand times more.
For putting the lives of the most important people in his world on the line time and time again; only to lose them.
For being to weak to prevent the inevitable.
For being to foolish to ever give in…
"I-it doesn't look like much to me…can we head back now?" Germany asked, not entirely able to hide the quiver in his voice.
No, Germany. No matter how much I wish we could.
"C'mon West! We took all this time to come find this place. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick look around." Said the ex-nation, Prussia.
If only you knew, Prussia.
"I must agree with Mr. Germany. It will be dark by the time we get back if we stray to long. Though I would not mind looking around the property for a short while." Japan spoke up.
The Italian nation hated this part, hated it almost as much as actually watching the light leave his friends eyes. But still, he forced himself to say the words that had to be said.
"Aw! Can't we look around for a little while? Please Germany? Please Japan?" Italy asked, in a fake cheerful voice, with a fake happy smile.
They would say yes.
They always did.
Not long after, the Allies would join them, Spain and Romano too. Then all Hell would be unleashed.
It always was.
"J-Japan!" Italy sobbed. Sinking next to the white grand piano where his friend lay, gruesomely injured, his once-white cloths were now stained red.
"Italy…" Japans voice was raspy, like he had swallowed sand, leaving his throat raw and dry. "..You…must leave." Japan had trouble speaking. His breathing became shallower, more labored.
"O-oh God!" Italy crawled on shaking hands over to Japan. "Just-just hold still! I'll heal you!" Frustrated tears escaped the broken Italians eyes. "Just don't die! I'll make you better!" he opened the bag he used to hold his supplies. Frantically searching for something to staunch the bleeding. Anything to lessen the bleeding, if only for a minute. "I'll make everything better! W-we need you, Japan!" Italy might have said more, but he was choking on his own words. He had nothing to save his friend.
Japan coughed up a bit of blood. "Italy. You…you don't have anything left…do you?" Japans face got paler and paler as he spoke. "You used it all…on the others."
Italy's tears only came faster, his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs.
"Italy."
Italy looked up, barely able to make out the small smile that graced Japans blood-stained lips through the tears.
"Please. Get out…for the…both…of…us." Japan let out one final breath, before his head slumped forward lifelessly, his body falling away from the piano leg to the ground. Italy didn't even try to catch his ally, his friend. Instead he continued to gaze where Japans head rested only seconds before. The white leg of the piano painted red with Japans life.
…
Three bodies were strewn across the floor of the room.
"France! Russia! China!" Italy ran to his injured companions, closely followed by Spain and Prussia, who both momentarily stopped, frozen in place by the amount of blood already gone from the three.
"H-hello, Italia." France managed a small smirk through the pain. His leg was only attached to the rest of his body by a slim piece of skin. "Prussia and Spain too. My…my old friends." his voice was already growing weaker.
"France…" Prussia was left speechless for the first time in years. Spain was already holding back tears.
"Don't just stand there!" Italy yelled at the two, in near hysteria. "We have to move them back to the shelter! Before that thing comes back!"
Neither of the other two moved to help the fallen. They knew there was no saving their friends, not now.
"Just l-leave!" China managed to put on a brave face, even with the monstrous claw marks that ripped through his throat. However, not even he could hide how his body shook. From fear, desperation, or pain, Italy would never know.
"No! I-I can't just leave all of you!" the painful truth that they the three were as good as dead dawned on him. Tears streamed down his face.
"Italy-" Prussia began, but was cut off by the Italian.
"I said no! Do you really expect me to just-" Russia interrupted.
"Go."
The Russians wounds were the most gruesome of all. His right eye was now dangling from it's socket, the trademark coat he always wore was shredded, revealing the horrid wounds the monsters claws had inflicted across his ribs and stomach, and on his left shoulder, just above his heart, was a bite mark from where the thing had -literally- attempted to eat him alive.
"Go." he repeated. "There's nothing you can do for us now." his voice was never strained or weak, though he was the worst off.
"B-but-"
"Spain, Prussia…you…you'll both keep an eye on our little Italia…won't let him get hurt…" The Frenchman whispered. The two mentioned nodded.
"Big brother France!" there was desperation in the Italians voice.
"H-hehe. Don't…don't worry. It'll all get better…soon." China's breath started coming in short, shallow gasps.
Italy's eyes widened.
What could he do?
How could he make their pain stop?
Nothing.
"No…" he whispered. Prussia came and grabbed his elbow.
"No!" he said again. Spain came and put a strong hand on his shoulder.
"NO! No, don't leave! Don't leave again!"
The Spaniard and Prussian had to drag the Italian out of the room. Away from more heartache.
"…At least… I won't die alone." Russia mumbled.
"China?" there was no answer.
"…France?" there was no answer.
A sad, tired smile haunted the Russians features.
"I think…I'll rest now." that's when he closed his eyes; when he stopped breathing.
…
"You go on ahead." America smiled; though it looked forced (almost like a grimace). "I'll wait here until you get back.
"But America! You're injured! It's bound to come back soon!" Italy begged. "If we leave now we can…" America started laughing; a low, bitter sound. It made the Italian man stop everything he had been previously saying.
"I guess…there's no point in denying it… I want to stay with them." he turned, painfully slow, to look at the lifeless bodies of England and Canada.
"America…" there was nothing Italy could say to that. America wanted to die by his brothers sides.
"Because," America continued, voice cracking slightly with anguish, "they're both…they're both really important to me."
The sound of a fight starting downstairs caught their attention, followed by the yelling of Prussia and Spain. Italy was caught in a net of emotions. Shouldn't he try to convince America to come with him? Make sure the others were alright? He was already hurting so much from losing six people…
"You'd better get going." America said. Italy looked up, surprised that America had unknowingly decided for him.
"I'll come back." Italy spoke so softly that America barely heard. "I'll come back once I check on the others." he said again. "We'll all go back…we'll save everyone…" the Italians voice trailed off.
"That sounds…nice."
Italy turned and left the room. America was able to hear him running down the stairs, no doubt where some of the other were fighting one of those things again.
Then he heard another set of footsteps. Slower, heavier footsteps. Coming strait towards the room he was in. But America wasn't afraid; if anything, the exact opposite. He cast a sad smile towards his two brothers.
"Hey Brittan," the footsteps stopped outside the door. "hey Canadiea," the faint sound of a hand grabbing a doorknob was heard, America pulled out his pistol. "I'll be with you guys again in just a minute."
A door flew open.
A gun was shot.
An American body hit the floor.
Thud.
…
Italy burst into the room, prepared to fight along side Prussia and Spain if need be, but the thing had already gone; leaving carnage behind.
Spain lay in a broken, crumpled heap in a corner of the room, his destroyed battle ax in the corner opposite him.
Prussia was nowhere in sight.
Only his bloody sword.
"Spain?" the Italian moved further into the room. Spain stayed silent.
"Spain?" Italy felt bile rise up in his throat. This was the first time loop where he would see Spain die. It was too much for him.
Get away.
Run.
The Italian started hyperventilating, backing up towards the door, ready to run away.
"R…" the Spaniard mumbled something. Italy stopped dead in his tracks. Spain was now starring at him with blank eyes.
"Ro…mano…" Spain rasped, unable to distinguish the Italian in front of him.
Italy could have cried (might have cried), if it weren't for his shock. Never had Spain confused him for his brother before. Spain had to be dying, to make a mistake like that.
If Spain wanted Romano during his final moments,
Italy would pretend to be Romano.
"Y-yes?" his voice was shaky, and nervous. Nothing like his brothers would have been. Spain didn't notice.
"Romano…"Spain whispered. "Boss Spain got hurt."
Italy's chest felt like exploding from the torment of hearing these words.
"M'sorry. Couldn't beat it." the Spaniards words were barely audible.
"D-don't be s-sorry!" Italy had to swallow the lump in his throat. "T-this is all my fault!" Then he collapsed, hugging himself, dry sobbing, hoping he would wake up and this would all have been a sick nightmare.
"'T came…'for we had time…to prepare…" Spain was so far gone, that he wasn't even listening to the Italian anymore. "Prussia…" he managed to meet eyes with Italy. "Took Prussia! Ripped him 'part!" tears were streaming from Spain's eyes, he looked away again, mumbling to himself. "France…'n Prussia…" He made eye contact again. Italy was barely able to hear Spain's final words.
"Live. For boss." then he went quiet, still staring into Italy's eyes.
Italy just stayed still. Spain would stay silent this time.
…
Romano pushed Italy behind him in a protective manner as the thing started breaking down the door to the room they were hiding in.
"Shit! That things found us after all!" Romano said under his breath.
Italy was looking around frantically. No closets, no beds, no windows. Only a rug and a few book shelves. They had nowhere to hide.
"Veneziano." Romano caught his brothers attention.
"R-Romano?" Italy was afraid. He looked at his brother, hoping he would know what to do.
"I'll go unlock the door and let that fucker into the room." Romano said in a calm, commanding tone. Italy was shocked.
"B-but Roma-" he was cut off.
"Once it's in here, I want you to run away as fast as you can. I'll shut the door and lock myself in here with it. It'll buy you some time to find the German Bastard. Maybe you'll be safe with him…"
Italy could only stare with wide eyes.
"W-what?"
Did Romano really expect Italy to just leave him on his own? To let his brother die at the hands of that monster?
"Don't argue!" Romano held his machine gun up to the door. It would break from the force of the knocking if they didn't unlock it soon. "I'm opening it now! Get ready to run!" he moved closer to the door.
"…I…I can't" Italy whispered. Romano didn't hear him.
The door swung open the second Romano turned to lock In the blink of an eye, the monster was in the room, running towards Romano.
"Damn it, Idiot! Run!"
Italy stayed in place; unable to leave his brother on his own. Romano growled, dodging under the monsters claws when it swiped at him, grabbed Italy by his shirt collar, and threw him out the door with all the strength he could muster.
Italy gasped. "NO!" but it was too late. Romano slammed the door shut, locking his little brother out.
"No no no no no! Romano!" Italy pounded on the door, listening to the struggle going on within the room. "You can't die! You're my frattelo! You can't leave me! I NEED YOU!"
"LEAVE!" he heard his brother scream from inside the room.
Italy clenched his fists, fresh tears running down his face; he would never forgive himself for this.
"I love you, Italy Romano!" Italy yelled, before taking off down the hallway in search of Germany.
From inside the room, Romano had just ran out of bullets. He knew he wouldn't be able to kill that thing, but at least the bastard was bleeding.
"That's for tormenting my fratello for so long, Bastard!" Romano felt fear run through him at the thing lunged for him again. He tried to dodge, but this time he was knocked into a wall. The thing stood, slowly advancing towards him, sharp teeth showing.
"Hehe. I guess love you too, Italy Venenziano." Romano closed his eyes, waiting for the pain that was bound to come.
The monster lunged.
…
Italy was leaning against the wall with sweat dripping from his forehead. Germany was sitting on the ground next to him, basically in the same shape. Both were gasping for air. They had been running from the thing for what seemed like hours. Getting injured in the process.
The Italian once again attempted to see the large gashes that stretched from his shoulder to his mid-back, but was never completely able to tell the full extent of the damage. He had become accustomed to feeling pain within the mansion, but the pain was usually mental. The feeling of fire burning under the skin of his back was nothing compared to what he was used to feeling.
He looked over to Germany, who was clutching his side with a look of torture on his face. The German had jumped in front of Italy at some point and the thing had ripped one of his ribs out of his side.
"G-Germany?" the Italians voice shook.
"Yeah?" Germany was only half-paying attention. Focusing more on stopping the profuse bleeding from his side.
"I-I'm so sorry-" his voice cracked slightly. "If it weren't for me…for my big mouth…none of this would have ever happened…"
Italy felt like crying. He wanted to cry; to let his emotions pour from his body. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. There were no tears left.
"Italy-" Germany wanted to say it wasn't Italy's fault. That he never could have known what would happen in this place. But the Italian didn't give him the chance to continue.
"Don't say it's not my fault!" Italy yelled. "Gone! Everyone's gone! I wasn't able to save them again! How many times does this time loop make? Ten? Thirteen?" He was frantic. "How many more times, Germany? How many more times do I have to watch my friends die?"
Part of Italy knew he was taking his emotions out on the German; knew he was being unfair.
Germany simply let him yell until he had calmed down again.
"Germany…I-I'm sorr-"
"Stop. Apologizing." the Germans words were strong and commanding.
"But-"
"But nothing! So you heard something interesting and told the rest of us. That doesn't put you to blame for everything that's happened in this house."
"Yes it does-"
"And you want to know something? You never gave up on us the entire time! You gave us hints. You made yourself stronger. You put your life on the line time and time again! And when things didn't work out, you went back again and tried to get us all out together! Don't you get it?"
Italy didn't understand. He didn't get what?
"The rest of us would have given up by now. Let that thing kill us. Make it put us out of our misery. But not you." Germany stood on shaky legs. He walked over to Italy and cupped his face.
"You never gave up. Even though we made things so hard for you. We should be the ones apologizing to you." the blood coming from Germany's wound was slowing down. He was almost completely drained. Then he fell to his knees.
"Germany!" Italy sank to the floor next to the German, desperately trying to think of a way to help.
"I'm sorry, Italy." Germany said. There was no smile on his face like the others had had; but his eyes looked at him softly.
"If you get out, and don't want to come back, the rest of us wouldn't be angry."
"Germany, please!" Italy begged.
"Italy…I…" the light left the Germans eyes before he ever got to finish his sentence. Germany was dead.
"Germany?" the Italian felt something in him break.
They say there is an old mansion 3 hours from the world meeting location.
All the pain overwhelmed him; made him numb.
"Please… Don't leave me alone…"
No one knows how long it's been there.
"Don't leave me alone again…" Italy's world came crashing down. He felt nothing.
Everyone was gone. He had failed again.
Never enter the mansion.
Italy smelled the blood before he felt the chill. His head snapped up to see the monster in the doorway, smiling at the Italians misery.
Italy stood up slowly. There was another door that led to the hallway only feet from where he was standing. The thing lunged at Italy the minute the Italian started running for the door, only barely missing. Within seconds, Italy was running down the hallway as fast as he could, the thing only feet behind him.
He had to find the clock. The one that would take him and his friends back.
That is where they wait.
He had been running nonstop for nearly two hours, only losing the thing once or twice. Where was that damn clock?
The Italian quickly entered another room, hoping to catch his breath for a minute or two. He had no suck luck.
Standing before the clock he had been searching for, was another of the monsters; only this one was twice the size of any that he had faced so far
Italy always hated fighting these things, he knew he wasn't very strong.
The thing stayed still, waiting for the Italian nation to make the first move.
Italy stepped to the right slightly, then to the left; the thing never took his eyes off him. The Italian took a deep breath (knowing it might be his last), and quickly ducked around the monster and up to the clock. He was struggling to open the case that separated the hands from himself.
He felt a large, strong hand rip him from the clock and slam him against the wall, knocking the breath out of him.
Once Italy was breathing again he smirked at the monster, and pointed a shaking finger to the clock he had been ripped away from.
The thing followed the direction, growling when it saw it was to late. Italy had managed to open the case and turn back the clock just in the nick of time.
The room around the two dissolved into black.
"Next time! Next time I'm getting everyone out alive!" Italy yelled at the monster.
It was like someone turned the gravity off around the two, making Italy feel light.
"You…" the thing growled.
"Won't…" a familiar scene came into focus around Italy. He was back outside the mansion with his brother, Romano, who was now a part of the 'game'.
In Italy's mind, the monsters final word was, "Es-cape~…" then all was silent until Romano spoke up.
"So this is where those bastards have been. Better get them out, before they accidentally burn the place down to the ground or something." then Romano walked up to the mansion and opened the door. He turned back to face Italy.
"Oi, Idiot! Coming or not?" he said in an aggravated tone.
Italy felt his stomach drop, felt happy that Romano was here, felt dread for what was about to come.
"Coming fratello~" he said in a fake cheerful voice, with a fake happy smile, before entering that mansion, yet again.
And the itsy bitsy spider,
Climbed up the spout again.
NOOOOO! Die! They all DIEEEEE! *sobbing* I don't think I can handle making serious stories anymore. I cried nonstop and had three heart attacks in the making of this thing…totally worth it…XD
Special thanks to princess-of-all-sayins and Hoshiko Izumi Okiterasu! I wuv you guyssss! *death glomp*
Oh yeah, and please review!