His words seemed to be in slow motion as they rang in my ears. I wasn't really listening, all I could feel was the cold of the back of his snowy Captain's haori touching my wrists, adding to the ague of my already chilled body.
Then the feeling of warmth and security and protection came over me as he, in turn, wrapped his firm arms around my feeble shoulders, looking down at me as I wept in his chest, my temped tears streaming down my face and onto his charcoal kimono.
The nostalgic aroma of green tea and ink filled my nostrils, the redolence of my Captain. The one I served so loyally followed and no matter the situation or place. I was there, and he was there.
I was shaking with happiness, with anxiety, with gratefulness, with admiration, with everything- anything- but fear.
"Thank you, Hinamori-Kun..."
His voice was so rich and velvet, it sounded like music to my once suffering ears.
Suffering because I couldn't hear his words of reassurance, beauty, and kindness that had once touched them before.
Now they were being rehabilitated as he continued to fill them with affectionate thankyou's and apologies.
"Goodbye..."
My mind didn't process quick enough.
I looked down, was it my own hands covered in scarlet?
No... The hand is much bigger, stronger then my own, could it have been Gin?
He is too far across the room.
My mind is now spinning, I'm losing blood. I can't think. I am panic-stricken and my mind doesn't want to process what is happening.
It has to be a nightmare.
I slowly follow the sleeved arm with my eyes to the face of the identity I have admired and loved and trusted for so long.
The smell of green tea and ink, the once heart-warming smell of my Captain is now forever embedded in my head as treachery. The smell now replaced by bitter stench of blood and salty tears.
I don't know how I got the will or the strength to look in his eyes and mutter quietly my final words:
"This can't be..."
His eyes have changed. They're no longer the benevolent chocolate eyes I have once known. Now they're dark, morbid eyes with nothing but selfishness and greed in their depths, preventing me to see the old ones I longed to see.
He pulls the blade from me, only being seconds but my senses can't keep up, whether it was from bloodloss or shock; I couldn't guarentee, but feels like years as I fall to the stone frigid floor.
My ears are once again suffering, as is every other inch, centimeter, of my body as I hear his icy, unsympathetic words.
"Let's go, Gin."
What a marvelous last thing for my suffering ears to hear.
And my tormented eyes to see, the vision of his brunette locks receding in the moonlight.
The last sight and sound I've ever experienced was gifted by a traitor, whom I'd childishly and foolishly followed...
Right into his dirty, two-faced scheme...
A/N: *GASP* It's not Hetalia!
It's not.
I wrote it on Quizilla a while back, and no one read it. So I'm putting it on here for appreciative readers to enjoy.
This is probably one of my favorite one-shots I've ever written.