WRITTEN FOR SELF INJURY AWARENESS DAY (SIAD) TRIGGERING! (And probably really lame) CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH AND SELF HARM (duh) DON'T LIKE DON'T READ!
I would STRONGLY RECOMMEND YOU LISTEN TO THE HETAONI MUSIC: "THIS IS WHERE I FALL"!
Slash.
Cut.
Burn.
Hit.
Stop, stop thinking. Be quiet!
Red.
Metallic.
Ugly yet beautiful.
"You know you're worthless." The man's reflection sneered, "All you do is surrender and run. You're a filthy coward. Not even your own brother loves you. Who could blame him, honestly! You're disgusting."
"B-but when I run, p-people don't have to die… I-I just don't want anyone to get hurt…Fratello-"
"Shut up. Stop lying to yourself, idiot. You're pathetic. No one loves you. Get over it."
"STOP IT! T-that's not true… There's people w-who care about me…" He shakily held the gaze of his mirror, which seemed to have developed a mind of its own.
"Those marks on your arms tell a different tale." The Italian in the mirror laughed, "You're pathetic. Go ahead, cut again, no one will care! Maybe one day you'll get lucky and die from it!"
The blond lowered his head to stare down at his once flawless arms, now littered with scars. Cuts, scratches, burns, bruises, he had a wide variety. New deep red marks ran like train tracks across his lower arm. There were so many. The crimson liquid of life flowed from his body to splash down upon the white floor of the bathroom, slowly staining it red. The Italian man reached down to the floor and placed his hand in the pool of blood, watching in fascination as the substance rippled and moved. Holding his hand up to the light as though reaching, droplets of red fell down upon his cheeks like crimson tears.
"Feliciano, just do us all a favor and disappear."
The young man, now known to be called Feliciano, glanced up again at his mirror and fell back from his perch on the tub in horror. The faces of all those he knew, all those he cared for, they all glared at him with menace as they yelled hateful words.
"Go away Italy!"
"Wow, you're a total coward."
"Can't you do anything?!"
"I hate you so much!"
"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, STOP IT!"
"Can't handle the truth? How sad. It's obvious no one even likes you."
"BE QUIET! PLEASE STOP!
"Begging again. How annoying .Just accept it. Not even your little Holy Rome loved y-"
"STOP IIIIIIIIIIT!"
The sound of shattered glass echoed throughout the German house that the Italian had been staying in. He had struck the mirror with all his might, breaking it into tiny pieces which showered the floor. The boy dropped to his knees, sobbing as he slammed his already wounded hands into the broken glass. The floor was stained a dark crimson as the walls had raindrops of red painted upon them. The voice had been silenced, but the aches remained. The blood flowed quicker, spilling out of his frail body.
The glass had cut the artery in his arms.
"ITALY!"
As the Italian boy lay on the stained floor, a pair of strong arms enveloped his small frame. They held him so gently, as though he could break just like that mirror. As the man spoke, Feliciano smiled gently. At least he would have this.
"Italy! Oh Gott, stay awake!" The German man sobbed, his voice quivering as he clutched the smaller man.
" H-hey Germany… You know you have really pretty eyes. They're so blue…"
"Italy, stay with me! Don't close your eyes! Stay awake!"
"So blue… just…like…the ocean…" The Italian's eyes seemed to dull.
"Hold on, I'm going to call for help! It'll be ok! Just stay awake, please!" Germany wailed as he struggled to type the three digits into his phone.
The boy took one shuttering breath, the very action shaking his failing body, "I-I'm tired…"
It was too late. Ludwig knew that, he knew by the glazed over auburn eyes, the rattling breath. The ambulance was coming, but that wouldn't help. It was too late. He knew. "Italy- Feli, please… please, stay.." The man was sobbing, begging for his Italian not to leave him. But he knew it was futile. It was already over.
"I-Ich Leibe Dich, Feli." Germany managed through his sobs, wanting those to be the words Italy would always know. "I-I love you. I love you, Feliciano."
And in that moment, Italy wanted to take everything back. He wanted to go back to the time when he could wear long sleeves and shorts and not have to worry. To the time when he would sit down and eat pasta with Germany. He wanted to babble endlessly about linguini and tomatoes. He wanted to play football with Japan. But he couldn't now. It was too late. It was already done.
Feliciano sobbed brokenly as he felt the last bit of life draining from him, "T-ti amo, Germany. I-I love you too, Ludwig."
And slowly those beautiful eyes that Ludwig loved so much lost their sight. Feliciano blindly reached for the German's face and Ludwig held it against his cheek, tears flowing freely.
"I-I can't see."
"It's-" Ludwig sobbed, "It's ok, Feli. I-I'm here. Everything's going to be ok." But it wasn't.
Feli took in a rattling breath, "Germany's a l-liar…"
Germany held onto him tighter and buried his face into the blood soaked fabric of his shirt, "No, I-I'm not. Everything's ok. We're going to go get lunch later, and you can have pasta. You can have it for dinner too. A-and Japan, you and I will all play football together."
The last breath, almost a chuckle, slipped from Feliciano's soft lips, but the German man kept talking as he sobbed harder.
"And I-I'll let you slack off from training for a whole month. W-we can do whatever you want, and I-I'll buy you gelato. You better have fun, because I-I'll make you run laps if you don't. T-that's an order."
And as Ludwig sat there clutching what was left of Feliciano, he could almost imagine the little Italian's "Yes sir~!" and his wrong-handed-salute. But he wouldn't get to see or hear that anymore. He was gone. His Italian would never again sneak into Germany's bed at night, never again sing his songs or play his guitar. He wouldn't see that beautiful smile or hear his beautiful voice any more.
Because he was gone. He was gone, with the only trace if him a bloodied bathroom and the silence of his still body. The quiet was maddening. So Ludwig filled it with his wails and sobs, cursing God for taking away his love. Cursing himself for not noticing how Feliciano had started wearing long sleeves and pants so suddenly.
But it was useless now. It was too late.
He was gone.
AN: Yo yo yo~! So, yes, I would like to add that this is my fic for SIAD (Self Injury Awareness Day(March 1st)) and, although I'm not quite sure how I feel about it, I'm super happy I managed to get something up in time for it! ^_^ Even though I was sobbing half way through writing this ^_^'' Eh, I'm just emotional I guess lol So I might do an epilogue (I want to) but it all depends on how much attention this fic gets so… If you want an epilogue, please tell me! :D And PRETTY PRETTY PWEASE REVIEW :'''3(you know you can't resist that face, admit it ;D)
((Ok, so here's some self-harm info for those of you who don't know, so don't like, don't read. Ok? Ok. Fact: Over 2 million cases of self-harm are reported each year in the US alone. Self-harm is anything from burning, cutting (the most common), hair pulling to bone breaking, among other things. Basically, it's when someone intentionally harms their body in some shape form or fashion. It is very serious and dangerous (If any reading this self-harm, I would strongly advice getting help or talking to someone close. If you can't, then please message me if you need to talk.). Self-harm can be caused by many things, but some of the common reasons are: abuse, depression, stress and anger. These are just a few, keep in mind. If you want more info you can ask in a review or PM, and I'll fill you in if you don't understand something. (I'm too lazy to type out any more info in this AN xP)))
PS: Sorry if this fic sucks, I'm currently writing this at 4 am so…yeah….and I have school tomorrow… Hm? Did you hear that? That was the sound of my chances of sleep vanishing. Yup…
Self-harm is not the way.
Reach out to those around you.
Don't let it trap you in its clutches.
If you know someone who self-harms, please be there for them.
Be a friend.
Help them help themselves.
Because they just need someone to reach for their hand.
Wishing you all well
-Lonely Little Black Rose
(please don't flame/hate)