He watched as Germany fell. He watched as Prussia fell. He watched as Canada and America... As Russia, China and Japan... as France... as everyone collapsed, blood dying their uniforms a sickening red. The thick metallic stench of sanguine hung in the air as Italy watched his friends fall to the ground, never to get back up. He himself was injured, too – he had failed again – he had gotten everyone but England killed in one fail swoop. Maybe even England too... who knew, nobody had seen him since the last time they rewound time...
Mustering up his strength, he used his hands to pull himself forwards, across the floor and towards Germany, the man's bright blue eyes dull and lifeless, his skin unearthly pale. Italy gulped, and crawled into a sitting position, his tears dripping onto the German's cheeks. His finger combed through the usually slick backed hair, now free and tangles, his nails catching on clumps of blood as he sobbed.
"I thought I had done it right... we got so far... I should've told you sooner... I should've trusted everyone sooner..." The brunette choked. He then flickered his gaze over to the journal that lay open on the floor. Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled over to the book and plucked it from the wooden boards.
Next time... Next time he would make sure he didn't act stupidly. He would make sure that he put more faith in his friends. Casting one final glance to his fallen comrades, the Italian nation exited the room, and began his journey towards the place where he had first found his means of travelling back in time... the place where he had wondered upon accidentally that first loop, when everyone was gone and he was alone...
The library.
He descended the stairs slowly, stopping to catch his breath once reaching the first floor. He couldn't stop though, he had to keep going. Turning right, Italy's hand dragged across the wall, barely keeping him standing and he struggled down the hallway. His right hand was holding onto a wound on his stomach, the red oozing from the large gash slowly staining his once blue uniform. Crimson droplets fell to the floor, marking a trail as he hobbled closer and closer to the library. He had something to do... before he rewound time once again; there was something he had to do...
Finally, he reached the heavy wooden door, turning the handle slowly and wincing at the creak that seemed so loud in the otherwise silent mansion. His feet dragged across the floor and he tripped over his feet, trying to get to the small table situated in the study. Blank pieces of paper scattered the worn surface, as did a small quill and pot of ink. Dropping down into one of the chairs, Italy grabbed at a piece of paper and began scribbling furiously, tears blurring his vision.
'Hey, me, I need to tell you something...'
No, that didn't sound right. He screwed up the piece of paper and reached for another one.
'To the future me who's not dead, and who hopefully hasn't made any mistakes and gotten anyone killed...'
No, that didn't sound right either. Another piece of paper. More ink.
This went on for a while, until finally, when his strength was at its last, he had finished a half-way decent letter... a note, guidance, to the next him. Smiling weakly, he tucked it into an envelope and wrote his name in loopy, yet shaky, handwriting on the front...
Now, where to hide it...
He didn't have much time...
Hoping with all his might that that thing wouldn't show up before he was finished, Italy stood up on shaky legs, knowing that he would have to hurry... or at least try to... He would have to put it somewhere where the others would find it...
Wait, he had it...
He smiled again, tears streaming down his face. Oh how he hoped that the next time he would be successful...
That he wouldn't be as stupid as he had this loop – or any of the others...
How he prayed that they would get out and live.
"Take me back..."
Italy felt tears well in his eyes as he read each sentence of the letter, feeling the emotion surging through his body, leaking through his other selves words. Tearing at his heart. So much pain... So many terrible memories...
'To the me who lives at some point in time and who isn't alone,
Once again, I made some mistakes, and also some progress. Meanwhile, I finally but slowly began to learn to rely on my friends. I was constantly afraid that everyone would blame me for dragging them into this, and that they would hate me or be appalled at me or get mad at me and leave me… But then I was told that I had the wrong idea.
They were very mad at me. It hurt so much. Not that they hit me, but it really hurt. I finally figured it out, but I can't pass this memory on to my next self. Unfortunately I'll lose my life yet again. That's why I'm writing a letter. Say thanks to England. And tell them the truth. I'm sure they'll get mad, but it's not that they hate you or think you're a pain.
Why didn't you rely on your friends sooner? What are friends for? That's what they told me, and that's what they're going to tell you too. I'm sure I'll cry. And then…and then…
Look around yourself.'
And he did. He looked around himself, and he saw everyone. His friends. Alive. They had made it further than ever before. They were going to make it.
And he was going to rely on them, just as much as they'd rely on him.
And then...
They'll go to Japan's for a sleepover.
He smiled, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Yeah, no matter how many times it'll take...
They'll make it out.
Together.
Am I out of the fandom yet?
/goes to crawl into a hole
I am so sorry
