Regret: A Hetalia Fan Fiction
They had been fighting for weeks now. The air hung thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. Rain constantly poured down turning the ground into mud and rotting the dead bodies of fallen soldiers. Ludwig and Feliciano were crouched in a shallow ditch; unsure what to do next and losing hope quickly.
"Mr. Germany, when do you think we'll be able to go home?" Feliciano asked for the third time that day.
Ludwig reached over and adjusted the strap on his ally's helmet. It looked loose and crooked. "For the millionth time, I don't know. We're losing troops fast. Right now, we should concentrate on making sure there's a home to go back to."
Feliciano hugged his rifle to his chest and looked at the ground like a sad puppy. "We could surrender-"
"No."
He sighed. "Mr. Germany, where's Mr. Japan?"
Ludwig picked at his mud-encrusted boot. "I-I don't know. We haven't heard from him."
Silence fell over the two. In this war, life was no guarantee. Not for you, not for your friends, and not for your home. Honda Kiku had gone off on his own to fight with his own troops, and neither Ludwig nor Feliciano had heard anything from or about him or even knew if their close friend was alive or dead.
Without warning, the sound of multiple gunshots filled the damp air. Feliciano shrieked and clung to Ludwig as they ducked for cover in their sorry excuse for a shelter. After thirty seconds that felt like thirty years, the firing ceased. They sat up more, Feliciano still desperately clinging to his German friend.
"Italy, it's ok. It's over now." Ludwig looked over and noticed he was crying, silently. It appeared as though he didn't want Ludwig to notice. "This has happened before and it will happen again. We need to remain strong." He said firmly.
Feliciano dried his eyes with his hands, shaking ever so slightly. He was trying, he really was. Feliciano was so innocent and fragile by nature. War was no place for him, but he had to step up and defend his homeland. There was no choice in the matter. His usually crisp uniform was soaked and stained with mud, the sleeves red with blood after he had to drag several of this fallen troops to makeshift burial grounds. As the battles got bloodier and bloodier, Feliciano grew quieter and more withdrawn. Ludwig looked and felt no better. They were both sick from the rain and filth, more than likely they were both running fevers. Ludwig considered their situation and sighed. They needed to get out of this ditch and do something. If they continued to sit and do nothing, their troops would be wiped out and the war would be lost. Cowering and giving up was definitely not in Ludwig's nature or heritage.
"Feliciano." The Italian boy turned to the blonde, eyes bloodshot and cheeks smeared with filth. "We need to get back to the base."
He knew exactly what they needed to do. The smartest thing would be to get back to the base as soon as possible, rounding up and many of the surviving soldiers as they could and forging some sort of battle plan. That way, there would be at least some chance of the Axis getting back on their feet. Ludwig realized he was grasping at straws, but he would be damned before he let The Allies win and change the German way of life.
"R-right now?" Feliciano stuttered
"There isn't any time to waste. It's less than a mile away. If we're careful and don't waste any time getting there we should be just fine." If there's one thing he was good at, it's faking confidence. He was partly just trying to convince himself that things would turn out okay, but another part of him knew Feliciano needed at least some sense of security or he'd never make it through without breaking down.
"Mr. Germany…I'm scared."
"I know, Italy. I am too." He admitted "but we need to do this- for The Axis."
Feliciano nodded once. "Mr. Germany…will you hold my hand?" The expression on the Italian boy's face sent a wave of sympathy through Ludwig's battle-hardened heart. Never had he seen a look of such pure fear.
Ludwig bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to shake his head. "We need to keep our hands on our rifles at all times in case we need to defend ourselves. I would if I could, Feliciano."
"I understand…" he said, voice wavering.
As a substitute, Ludwig reached over and squeezed his friend's hand once. "You're going to be just fine." He said, trying his best to be warm and soothing. "We should start moving."
The pair stood up and cautiously began treading through the red and brown puddles. They were previously taking shelter in a shallow ditch surrounded by a few tall plants. Ludwig, followed closely by Feliciano, quickly got out of the open and into a more wooded area.
"These plants are too short to cover us if we walk. We could easily be spotted. Drop to your knees." Ludwig commanded, getting down into a crawling position. Feliciano obeyed and ducked below the tops of the plants. They crawled on their hands and knees, letting the cold stagnant water laced with blood soak through the knees of their uniforms once again. Feliciano shivered as the rain continued to pour and the wind began to pick up, howling through the trees. As they were crawling, Ludwig stepped on a twig and it snapped.
"Strike!" Feliciano yelped. Upon impulse, he dropped to a face down position and clasped his trembling hands over his helmet.
Feliciano stayed down, waiting for more shots. Ludwig turned around. He couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at his overreaction at first. But when he saw Feliciano, his heart broke. His fellow soldier was face down in the mud; his clothes, hands, face and hair caked with it. He trembled like a leaf, a result of the combination of both the cold and his own shot nerves.
Ludwig placed his hand on his friend's helmet. "It was just a twig, Italy. There's no strike." He helped sit Feliciano up before dipping his own sleeve in a small puddle and cleaning most of the grime off of the boy's face. "We only have to crawl until there." He pointed to a more dense forest about ten yards from where they sat. Feliciano, again, nodded. He got back into a crawling position and followed Ludwig.
Ludwig's knees ached as he stood up. He offered a hand to Feliciano. "No, I can do it…" he got on his feet with a slight wobble, like a baby deer standing up for the first time. Ludwig forced a small grin in an effort to comfort him. "We're ok." When his back was again toward him, his mind began to wander back to a few months ago. Feliciano had been pestering him to play football since it was such a beautiful day. 'Germany, football, Germany! Football, Germany! Football!' he had said, playing with Ludwig's hand at the same time. Ludwig was annoyed with him as he was trying to read and told him to leave him alone. Looking back, he would give anything to play football in the sun with Feliciano now.
Come to think of it, Ludwig had shot down a lot of opportunities to have fun with Feliciano before the war broke out. Every time, he had rejected his pleas out of annoyance. Why did everything annoy him so much before? Seemed silly now, thinking back to it. "Italy" he said without turning around or even taking a break from walking "If-when we go home, I'd like to play football with you." Ludwig could almost feel his face light up behind him. "Yay! Football with Mr. Germany!" he sang. Ludwig chuckled. Finally he could see him be happy again. At least his spirit was still there.
This rare moment of happiness was cut short. Ludwig heard an all too familiar sound- splashing puddles and crunching leaves- footsteps. There was no way of telling if these belonged to an ally or an enemy. The sound came from somewhere behind Feliciano.
"Feliciano! Ready your weapon and get beside me!" Ludwig hollered. He readied his own rifle, eyes peeled and senses sharp for whatever could come at them. Feliciano obeyed the order immediately, scurrying over to his ally and gripping the rifle with unsteady hands.
"Show yourself!" Ludwig screamed. His eyes darted around, scanning for any sign of life. He clenched his jaw. This wasn't good. If there were more of them, Feliciano and him didn't stand a chance. Even if there was only one or two, it was still a life threatening situation, especially since they were both weak from the conditions and malnutrition.
It all happened so quickly.
Out of nowhere, an American solider jumped out in front of Ludwig. They had no interest in Feliciano. He wanted to take out Ludwig, aka Germany the powerhouse of The Axis. This amateur wasn't any match for Ludwig's sharp shooting and quick reflexes, perfected from a life of training and natural skill from his ancestors. He shot him right between the eyes; gore splattering the trees behind him. The American's corpse hit the ground, splashing the mud the rainwater everything. Feliciano screamed as he watched the scene unfold, still sensitive to death. Feliciano opened his eyes to see another solider on the other side of the path, not looking up and preparing his rifle to shoot Ludwig who was completely distracted by the other soldier.
Except Ludwig wasn't shot.
Feliciano fell to the ground with a sharp thud. Ludwig whipped around, saw the man and shot him just like he had the first in one swift movement, running solely on adrenalin. He fell to his knees, throwing the rifle aside and picking up Feliciano.
"FELICIANO!" He screamed. It took him a second to process what has just occurred. It was a chest shot, red quickly staining his blue uniform like a rose blooming on his chest. "Italy, no. No, please. Speak to me! Goddammit, SPEAK!"
"Mr. Germany…" he breathed.
Ludwig had to act quickly. He laid his friend on the ground, fumbled through Feliciano's uniform jacket, tearing through the buttons of his shirt. He pressed his hands firmly to the wound, his brain whirring at 100 MPH. There was no time to get him to the base. Even if there was, there weren't any medics. His thoughts were cut short by a small Italian hand wrapped around his wrist.
"It's no use, Mr. Germany."
"Feliciano, listen to me." Ludwig growled, blood oozing between the spaces of his fingers. "You are going to make it. You are going to be just fine." He could feel his eyes brimming with hot tears. "You will recover. We're going to go home soon, Fel. We're going to find Japan, we're going to win this thing and we're going to go home." Ludwig had quickly gone from tearing up to sobbing, tears streaking through the mud on his cheeks. This was the first time he had really cried in his adult life. Without thinking, he hoisted his little friend onto his knees and into his arms. His hands had done nothing the stop the bleeding. Blood from the wound was now covering the front of Ludwig's jacket. He hugged him desperately, weaving his blood-covered hands through the boy's brown hair. "When we get home," he continued, his voice wavering and thin like he was drowning "we'll eat all the pasta you want. We're going to play football everyday, whenever you want." He had quickly gone from speaking to screaming. "You have to stay with me, please Italy! Don't fall asleep!" His hysterics were cut off by the sound of Feliciano's weak voice.
"Germany, kiss me."
Ludwig pulled Feliciano off his shoulder. His eyes were barely half open, a thin line of blood running from the corner of his mouth to his chin. Without thinking, Ludwig kissed him once on each cheek, just like he did the first time Feliciano asked to be kissed.
"No, Mr. Germany, kiss me." Feliciano used some of the last strength he had to lift his head up to his best friend's. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips softy against the German's. It was both Ludwig and Feliciano's first real kiss. Ludwig was shocked for only a moment before he kissed him back. After he pulled away, he looked into his eyes.
"Feliciano, please stay with me." Ludwig begged, throat now burning from his hysterical sobbing. Feliciano wrapped his arms around his neck, resting his head on his ally's shoulder. "You'll be just fine." He said, mimicking the same line Ludwig had said to him so many times before. Ludwig could feel his stale, shallow breath on his neck. "Li ameró per sempre, Mr. Germany." The dying boy said. He was now holding onto his friend like he was clinging to his very soul. Ludwig had learned enough Italian from him to know exactly what it meant. I'll love you forever. "Ich liebe dich." He sobbed, holding him so tight he thought he would break him. "Ich liebe dich."
"I'll see you in paradiso, Mr. Germany." Feliciano was barely audible now. His breath on his friend's neck was growing weaker by the second.
"Italy, please…"
"Will you hold my hand now, Mr. Germany?" Feliciano was in his final moments. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Ludwig immediately gripped his hand, still crying into his friend's shoulder.
"Spero di vederti presto." Feliciano whispered. It meant 'I hope to see you soon'. Seconds after, his hand grew limp fell out of Ludwig's.
"No." He whispered. "This isn't real. It can't be." He pulled the soldier from where he was leaning. His eyes were still partially open. Looking back at him weren't the eyes of his best friend. Really, whom had he just lost? A best friend? A brother? A lover? Regardless, looking back at him were the eyes of another dead soldier.
Feliciano was gone. That beautiful spirit had disappeared, leaving only the shell of this body. Ludwig pressed his hand against Feliciano's bare chest, part of him still hoping to find a heartbeat. His body was still warm. It reminded him of all the times the Italian had crawled into bed with him at night. This had become more and more frequent until it was a nightly occurrence. More often than not Ludwig would wake up with Feliciano sleeping half on top of him. He had taken that warmth for granted. This had to be a dream. This entire war must just be a terrible nightmare, and any second he was going to wake up with Feliciano on top of him again, perfectly safe and healthy. Ludwig screamed at the top of his lungs, not caring if his location was discovered and he was killed. If only he should be that lucky.
Ludwig's eyes wandered to the now-unbuttoned pocket on Feliciano jacket. Peeking out was a small piece of paper, folded in half. With tears continuing to run down his cheeks, he took it out and unfolded it, still on his knees with Feliciano's body draped on him. It was a note, addressed to him.
"Dear Mr. Germany,
It's your pal, Feliciano!" He could hear his little voice echoing in his head. He took in a sharp breath and continued.
"I'll try not to make this too long. All my life, I've been weak. I'm sure you've figured that out. I know I disappointed you during training, since I could only run fast if I was in retreat. Well we've been fighting for awhile now, and that hasn't gotten any better has it?" Wait, he wrote this during combat? How had Ludwig not noticed? Where had he even found paper? There were so many unanswered questions!
"You've always been there for me, Mr. Germany. I feel so bad that I could never save you the way you've saved me so many times. Don't tell Romano, but you're like a brother to me." The last line had been crossed out. "Well, maybe not a brother. I was always too shy to tell you out loud, but I've always had feelings for you. You could even say, 'Ti amo'!" Ludwig's heart nearly skipped a beat. There had always been something there between Feliciano and him but neither of them ever did anything about it, of course until that kiss just minutes ago. Now, it was too late to see what could have become of them. He looked down at the ragdoll of a body he held in his arms that he now realized could have been his soul mate. Ludwig was sobbing again, but he fought the urge to breakdown again. He needed to finish the letter.
"I think I'm rambling again, sorry Mr. Germany. The point is, I've realized something since we began fighting. I'm burdening you. All I seem to do is run away and fall on my face. I'm too weak and clumsy to help you. That's why I came up with a plan. I know you always said to run my plans through you first, but I came up with this one all on my own. Aren't you proud of me? Anyway, I'll be going to paradiso a little early. I've surrendered a lot in my life, but you could say this is my final surrender. I'm not sure how I'll do it yet, but by the time you find this, I'll have left already. I'm sorry this is all I can do to help you, Mr. Germany. This is really the best thing I can do. For you and The Axis. Tell Mr. Japan "Arigotou" for all he's done, and tell brother Romano I passed honorably- it'll mean a lot to him. Thank you, Mr. Germany, for putting up with me. As you always said to me, you'll be just fine. Fight for The Axis and win. The one thing I ask of you: remember me as a friend, not as a soldier. I'll see you in paradiso. Please don't forget me.
Love,
You best friend forever, Feliciano.
There's no way.Feliciano's death had been an accident. Then Ludwig realized- Feliciano was facing the other way. He saw that American soldier before he had realized he was looking at him. Even though he wasn't great with a rifle, he could have easily shot him. He was so close. He could have even just tackled Ludwig and gotten them both out of way. Ludwig shook uncontrollably, crying and hyperventilating. Feliciano had jumped. He held his corpse to his chest. "How could you…" he whispered. "you were never a burden to me, you were my only friend…" Ludwig was whispering into ears that would never hear him again.
He searched his thoughts frantically, to remember just ONE instance of him telling Feliciano he was appreciated as a soldier, that he was valuable to The Axis, even that he was valuable to Ludwig himself. All he found were times where he had yelled at him or belittled him for surrendering and pushed him away when he showed affection or gratitude. Ludwig screamed into the sky again. What if all he had needed was one compliment, one sign of approval, and this could have all been prevented? He was so desperate for approval he had died for it, thinking that was the one useful thing he could do.
Ludwig shoved the note in this pocket, guilt sitting on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. He laid Feliciano's body against his shoulder and rose to his feet. He would go back to the base and find a proper burial for him. Ludwig could have easily put the barrel of his rifle in his mouth and ended the pain, but Feliciano's dying wish was that he fought.
And he sure as hell was going to.