A/N: Hey everybody. This is my very first Hetalia fanfiction. It's been a while since I've written anything, though. I've been so busy with school this last year. The only reason this was written up, though, was because it was an assignment for my Creative Writing class.
I apologize if any of the characters seem OOC, especially N. Italy. I also apologize if a weird name ever pops up. This was written specifically for class and I didn't want to make it too obvious I was referring to anime characters XD
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
EUROPEAN DOOMSDAY
On May 17th, in the year of my twenty-second birthday, almost all of Europe was destroyed. The epicenter of the explosion had occurred somewhere close to the Germany-Czech Republic border and spanned out to the western edges of Asia. Countries like Spain, Ireland, and the Nordic nations were relatively unscathed from the destruction wrought upon Europe. Unfortunately, my country was not to be so lucky.
I was an Italian tourist in America on that fateful day. I had saved up a large sum of money and took a vacation to sightsee some of the greatest American cities as a sort of reward for passing my physics class. I flew out of Rome on May 12th, almost a week before my home city was demolished.
I remember the exact moment of when I heard the news. I had spent the night before testing some of the best wine in America at a large vineyard in the northern part of California. A slight headache was what awoke me the following day, so to get myself to function I jumped into the shower. Cleansed and ready to start off my day in a short amount of time, I flipped on the television as a sort of background noise as I dug for a breakfast bar to munch on.
I only caught snippets of sentences as I folded clothes in hopes of some form of order, but it was when I heard my country mentioned that I turned to watch what looked to be a history channel. All I noticed were piles of rubble encompassing the entirety of the TV.
"…is destroyed. It looks nothing more than a barren wasteland of what had once been beautiful, lush countrysides and cities full of enriched history. There have been no signs of survivors."
At first, the words didn't register. They didn't make sense in the context in which I expected them to be. All they continued to show were remnants of large buildings destroyed with the occasional car smashed under wood and brick. As I continued to watch, however, I came to the realization that the video showing was one that was taken only moments before. This had just happened. And my home was gone.
I was unaware of what my body was doing. One moment I was standing next to the bed and the next I was on my knees, almost as if in prayer, in front of the television. I watched on as different parts of Europe were highlighted, including Rome, my hometown. Photographs of my native country ripped at my heart. All I could think of was my family and friends whom I left behind. I knew that the feeling of dread could only mean the worst.
I don't know how long I knelt there, letting the news sink in, but it wasn't until the cameras began a closer inspection of the Earth. '…no signs of survivors.' I was unaware of the heart-wrenching cry that tore out of my throat. I couldn't feel the tears that poured from my eyes, unchecked by shaking hands that clutched at my hair.
I knew-I knew-that there were no survivors. I knew that my twin brother-fraternal, but with my same short brown locks and dark brown eyes-was never going to snap at me for being foolish and naïve anymore. No more "Feliciano!" to follow me as I got into trouble. No more brotherly moments where I could convince Lovino to join me on a secret night-outing. I knew my father was no longer able to tell me he wished that I had picked up his trade and worked with him in his tiny mechanic shop. No more father-son-son days or proud grins when I did something right. I knew my mother was not going to be there to insist I sample the pasta she was attempting to perfect. No more loving kisses from my mother. No more cheerful afternoons with my entire family.
It was hard to accept. How could I accept it? They were my family. They were my life.
I didn't leave the hotel that day, nor the day following. I was too grief-struck to even move from the bed. I couldn't eat or sleep at all. In my heart I realized that my family was gone, and it was painful to swallow, both literally and metaphorically. I wanted this to be nothing more than a horrible nightmare, but no matter how hard I tried to wake myself up, I still found myself in a lonely hotel room in northern California.
The news could talk of nothing else than what had been dubbed "European Dooms' Day," EDD for short. News stations from across the world flew above the destruction, too afraid to get any closer due to remnants of radioactive material.
It was hard for me to watch the news, but I felt that it was important to keep up with the happenings of Europe, no matter how painful it was. I needed to find out what was going to happen to us, the people who were away from home at the time of EDD. As much as I had been enjoying my trek across America, it was not where I belonged. Unfortunately, the home where I should have been was currently a cesspool for radioactivity.
Relief efforts had been mentioned once or twice within the 48-hour time span following EDD, but they were not confirmed until May 20th, sometime in the evening. I had the television on as I had for the last 36 straight hours and listened with indifference. I had nearly exhausted all of my tears and emptied my stomach from sobbing and had reached the point where I was beginning to feel hollow and empty. The loneliness was engulfing me, transforming me from my usually cheerful self to someone I hardly recognized.
A TV news anchor, professional in dress and outward emotions, spoke with a business-like tone. "Survivors from EDD will be asked to arrive at the newly erected relief camps in the next 24 hours. These camps will be able to house 100,000 people for the time being," the woman announced. "If you, or someone you know, have lost a home due to the EDD debacle, please do not hesitate to call this number. They will be able to direct you to the nearest camp and help those in need." She said her salutation to the audience before a hotline number flashed across the screen. For the first time in nearly three days, I jumped to my feet in more than grief and pain and ran to my phone before the number could disappear.
The nearest camp was strategically placed between Bakersfield and Fresno, California. It was able to host Europeans from the areas of Los Angeles to San Francisco. It wasn't the only one in California, considering it was the beginning of tourist season, but it was the one I was certain to make it to without getting too lost. I left the hotel the next morning bright and early so that I could make it to the camp and get settled in before it became too crowded.
The drive there nearly shot my nerves. I was shaking terribly, a clear side effect from the emotions I was swimming in since I found out about EDD. The silence in the car was deafening and caused me to turn up the music to ear-splitting levels in hopes that I could drown out my thoughts.
It took only a few hours to arrive at the camp, but by the time I arrived, I felt like nothing more than gelatin. My arms were unable to properly carry my luggage to the makeshift gate that barred my path. A man nearby took pity on me and helped me take it to the nearest sign-in station.
The station was nothing more than a giant tent that attempted to shade those on duty. The people working wore bright neon yellow t-shirts adorned with the single word 'volunteer' and made it clear that the person was willingly there to help.
When I reached the table at the entrance of the station, the young man who helped me bid adieu and went on his merry way to return to what he was doing before he took pity on me. I turned to face the volunteer.
"Hello," I greeted.
The lady I addressed nodded at me in a distracted fashion. "Are you a 'survivor?'" she asked in obvious protocol.
I did not like the use of the word 'survivor,' but I forced myself to push that thought aside. Of all things to be upset about, that should not have been one of them. "Yes," I replied promptly.
The woman looked at me for a moment as if to decide whether to believe me or not. She seemed to accept my affirmative after a moment and handed me a stack of papers. "Please fill out this paperwork. If you are having difficulty understanding any of it, please do not hesitate to ask for the paperwork written in your native tongue." With a wave of her hand, I was dismissed from the table.
Under the glare of the hot sun, I sat at a nearby row of tables and began to answer the questions which ranged from my name to what allergies I had. I got so into filling out the questionnaire that I almost missed the impeccably dressed man who sat only a couple meters away. I lifted my head and sent a small smile to the blonde man. He reciprocated with an understanding nod and lifted the paperwork in his own hand. It was a gesture that seemed to say, "I've got enough of this at home. I sure didn't want to contend with paperwork here."
I chuckled lightly in response and shrugged. At least we seemed to be on the same page when it came to forms.
Before I could return to what I was doing, the blonde man stuck out his right hand. "Ludwig," he spoke in what I guessed was a German accent.
I took his rough and calloused hand in a brief handshake. "Feliciano," I supplied.
"You speak English?" Ludwig asked.
"Yes. I've been speaking for years."
The man gave a nod. "Your English is good," he said with a small smile. "Are you Italian by chance?"
I grinned. "Thanks," I gave in response to his compliment. "Yeah, I'm from Rome. I came here on my own." Just as I spoke of home, however, my face fell. It was a hard subject to mention my homeland, even in passing.
Ludwig seemed to understand because his smile dropped from his face as well. "Ja, I vas living in Frankfurt am Main before I came here for a business trip. Mein bruder vas still there at the time of EDD. I'm sorry for your loss."
I felt my throat clench. This man lost his brother as well and empathized with my pain. "Thank you," I murmured. "I'm sorry for your loss as well."
He hummed in response before both of us fell silent. The air around us chilled along with our emotions. In order to distract myself, I returned to the paperwork. Ludwig did the same.
Once I finished the seemingly never-ending pile of papers, I said goodbye to my new acquaintance and turned in the pile at the sign-in desk. One of the women decked in bright yellow gave me a map and a pamphlet of my temporary home. I was offered a tour by another pretty woman, but I declined and went in search for the particular tent I was to stay in, dragging my baggage behind me.
It didn't take long for me to find the tent, and it took me an even shorter amount of time to locate the bunk I was to stay in. I was not the first person to be directed to the house-sized tent because another man was there with a multitude of his things surrounding him. He was too preoccupied to notice my entrance.
I took the opportunity to settle into the cot that I was assigned to. I lowered myself onto the makeshift bed and found it to be comfortable but nothing like my bed back in Rome.
Thinking of home again caused my heart to sink. I couldn't help but wish that none of this had happened and that I was in Rome again, eating a home-cooked meal my mother slaved over for most of the day. I wished that my brother would yell at me for eating too fast and that my father would reprimand Lovino for being mean to me and that the four of us could share how our days had been and bond, just as we used to.
As I spiraled into a depressive state, I failed to notice my newest neighbor walk into the tent. It was only after I was addressed that I noticed that Ludwig had set a large suitcase on the bed next to me.
"Hey," I greeted again with a weak smile. He nodded and let me be.
I must have fallen asleep some time following because one of the volunteers had entered the tent and informed us of dinner time.
Dinner was an interesting affair the first night. I felt like I was in a cafeteria of some sort-it was only later that I was informed it was a 'canteen'-and we were directed to stand in line for food. A separate volunteer was scooping up what looked like a mix of mashed potatoes and a medley of vegetables. I was a little frightened to try dinner, but after some coaxing from Ludwig, whom I was already considering a friend, I managed to swallow the mush down. We drank water with our food, and I greedily finished off both. I hadn't had anything of actual sustenance in days.
It was about seven o'clock local time when Ludwig and I left the canteen and headed back to the tent. The two of us were not quite ready to sleep, so we settled into a friendly game of cards. I was surprisingly good at the game Ludwig was teaching me, but Ludwig was unappreciative of my efforts. He spoke of beginner's luck.
A few of the other campers watched our game, and a couple joined in, but once ten o'clock rolled around, we each went back to our respective cots and attempted to sleep.
I had gotten up fairly early that morning so I was hoping that I would sleep well, but with the silence surrounding me, I was aware of how lonely I felt once again.
I didn't mean to emotionally tear up, but as my mind started wind down, all I could think about were the millions of deaths that had occurred only days before. I sobbed but kept silent for most of the night. I really didn't want Ludwig to know how upset I was.
There must have been some time during the night that I fell asleep because I woke up to the sound of the cot next to me squeaking slightly under pressure. Ludwig was up and had already changed into a dress shirt and slacks. He greeted me with a nod and asked if I wanted to join him for breakfast. I readily agreed. My stomach growled as if to prove how willing I was to eat, and once I was dressed, the two of us left for our meal.
I had some fruit for breakfast while Ludwig enjoyed what appeared to be Nutella on top of toast. Once we were done eating, I suggested we go on a walk around the perimeter of the camp.
We spent most of the morning wandering and chatting about our lives. Apparently Ludwig had worked for a German branch of an international company and had come to America to meet with a representative. Only hours before his flight to home was to take off, the EDD incident had occurred. He lived with his brother and three dogs before that fateful day, and because of the remnants of radioactivity that covered most of Europe, he was going to find a way to get a permanent residence in the U.S.
I told Ludwig about my own brother, and how, even though we were both 22, we were living at home with our parents. I told him how I was going to a local college in Rome and that I had been planning a three month trip to America for years.
We sympathized with each other and understood each other's pain. We got along well despite the fact that we were from two different countries. It was a companionship born through the ashes of destruction, and I truly appreciated it.
We spent the next week trying our best to keep entertained. There wasn't much to do around the camp, and so Ludwig and I played a lot of card games. By the end of the first week we had fallen into a rhythm, kept up by the monotony of bored camp residents.
However, that rhythm was broken about ten days after I arrived at the camp. I had been at the canteen with Ludwig when a bright yellow shirt entered my peripheral. The volunteer stepped to the front of the tent and called for all of our attention.
"Is a Mr. Feliciano Vargus present?" he called.
A small nudge from my friend forced me to raise my hand timidly. "That would be me," I replied.
The man walked over to me with an envelope in hand. "For you," he explained briefly.
I took the offered letter and stared at it for a moment. The outside of the envelope contained a hastily scribbled address to the camp on the front, but no return address was given. I opened it after a moment in curiosity.
A familiar handwriting covered the entirety of the page. My heart began to speed up.
Dear Feliciano, it began in what could only be my brother's writing. I hope this letter gets to you swiftly and finds you in good health. I am alive and well, thanks to a visit to my friend, Antonio. I was near the coast of Portugal at the time of EDD and set off from Europe only a short few hours later. I made it to Mexico a few days ago and have been trying to get to the American border since.
I have written a letter to each of the relief camps in California, hoping you'd still be in that area, if I remembered correctly from your last call. I am unable to contact you via phone due to lack of my own, but I highly doubt you've remembered to charge yours anyway. If you receive this letter, please stay put, wherever you are. I will be checking each of the Californian camps in turn once I am cleared to go across the border. Antonio sends his regards.
With sincerest apologies,
Lovino
I knew I started to cry almost immediately after I began to read. For nearly two weeks I had assumed my brother was dead along with my parents. To know he was alive was a huge relief.
Ludwig sat nearby, but had remained politely silent during the whole affair. To let him know what was going on, I silently handed him the letter to read for himself. Once he was finished, he gave an encouraging pat to my shoulder. "This is good," he said in his throaty accent. "It can only better from here."
I agreed. I didn't know how long it was before my brother would be able to find me, but just knowing that I would be reunited with Lovino soon was causing me to tear up. Things were terrible across the world right now, but with my brother by my side, I would be able to handle anything, even my parents' death.
A/N: So here we are. I do plan on continuing this. There will be a second part, but it will not contain any romance. The third part, however, will be geared towards Germany x Italy and Spain x Romano. Let's just hope I stay motivated enough to finish this.
Please review. I appreciate each and every one of them :3