He wasn't sure where he was anymore. The sky no longer held color anywhere, the land no longer held warmth anywhere, all there was was a sense of emptiness. It was a painful emptiness, a cruel emptiness, the type only one like he could feel; only someone who lived with the lives of millions, their hearts all beating with him, could feel this deep unending emptiness.
It was the feeling of all life being gone.
The feeling was already there when he woke up, finding his body curled up on hard, unloving earth; the emptiness caused his heart to stop for a moment before he realized, yes, he was alive. Slowly, carefully he opened his eyes, daring to look, daring to see; all he saw was buildings, broken, crumbling, and dead trees. Rubble covered dried blood, tatters of clothes shifted in an uneasy wind. He wasn't sure of where he was and he tried to move but felt something heavy, so very heavy; he winced, his body hurting as he tried to get free. In his arms and legs were shrapnel, blood gracing the ripped and faded cloth. His right arm especially was in horrible condition, numb to his senses and the first thought was that it was broken or worse; the fact he could still move it made him feel better.
What he saw when he got free and looked at what had been holding him down, that caused him to feel much worse; he felt his heart stop, his breath and words catch in his throat. Tears threatened his eyes but they couldn't come, leaving him to stare at the body of a man with blonde hair that once was neat, a uniform that was once perfect. The man's eyes were closed, his once serious face graced with a tiny smile that could only come from protecting something precious, something priceless. Like a lover.
He found his words finally but with it came a flood of tears; his voice was pained, hurt, begging, "Doi….Do…..Doitsu…..Doitsu….."
Over and over he repeated those words, the tears staining his sight, his hands fumbling to touch the man's face, his hair, his cheeks and shoulder, "Doitsu, Doitsu, wake…wake up….wake up…..please…."
There was no reply though, no words to scold him, no hands to grab his; there was just him and the man's form. And he continued to call to him, continued to cry, asking him to wake up, begging him to get up, urging him to say something and make it that what he saw wasn't real. But he knew it was; no matter what North Italy wished, no matter how much he begged, he was fully aware that the man, his beloved Germany, was never going to get up. Still he wanted to pretend just a bit it wasn't true and that he would be okay soon.
North Italy wasn't sure when he stopped crying out for Germany; all time seemed to fold together now, like one endless string of gray sky. The effects of the war had caused not only radiation that killed the earth but dyed the sky with clouds that never disappeared. There was no moon or sun anymore, just dim nothingness. So effectively he had no idea what time it was when his voice finally gave in and he was forced to give up on pretending; he was unaware of how long it took him to get to his feet, his legs wobbling as he picked up the heavier Germany and dragged him away from the ruined city, pulling him away from the remnants of civilization and towards the outside. He wouldn't know when he found that little hole in the ground surrounded by crosses stuck in the ground, when he finally dropped Germany along and buried his old friend, taking only his heavy heart and the Iron Cross that Germany had always worn; he stopped halfway through burying him, staring at the simply piece of iron, feeling it's cold weight in his hand. His mind was blank for a moment and he knew to feel sad over this but he no longer had any tears left to cry. He closed his eyes and slipped it carefully around his neck before continuing with burying Germany, watching as his friend disappeared under a layer of dirt. He stole a cross from nearby and set it as Germany's marker, taking off his own jacket and putting it on the cross. It was only then North Italy could find his smile again and he spoke softly, "Goodnight Doitsu….."
And with that he walked away, taking steps into the world ravished by a horrible war, a painful war. He was alive but not alive; he wished to see if he could find others like him, suffering from emptiness and loss.
Veneziano; Yeah, I'm back with something depressing. Again. And it's not a one-shot, it's a full chapter story. Sorry me...
Feliciano: Doitsu...
Veneziano: The title, if I'm to believe Google Translation, means We Were.