I'm aliiiiiiiiiiive.

Sort of.

Anyway, blah blah blah, I got into Hetalia and HetaOni a few weeks back, blah blah blah, I cried like an idiot and made a new ocean pop up, blah blah blah, I wanted to write something about HetaOni/Hetalia, blah blah blah... and here I am, making up a drabble-ish HetaOni/Hetalia fic for the first time. Sue me if they all sound OOC, because I think that's what happened at some point of it.

Enjoy.

To me-

No. No, that's not it, is it? No, it isn't. It's for everyone. So-

To everyone; to everyone who finds this, reads this - to our former selves who have entered this mansion not out of coincidence or curiosity, but due to fate... and never left without tears and pain etched deeply in our minds-

...Once, it wasn't 'we' or 'us'. It was only an 'I', just one person trying to save our souls.

He scribbled down the inky words hastily, biting his lower lip and lingering on idle thoughts a person who was alive would normally not be thinking now. Wondering about life, about death, about memories and making an impression on life's varying facades. He felt his hand still with such dark ideas and, no longer in the mood to pour out his feelings, had hesitantly tucked the pen between the current pages open to greet him and closed shut the covers.

America looked up from worn leather of his personal journal - it was his first birthday gift from England, and even though he wouldn't be able to fit his entire immortal life into the pages, it was alright with him. He would be leaving something that marked his existence, to let people remember him when comes a day that he no longer stands and is simply forgotten by the world - and stared at the three disillusioned figures nearby. Italy clung to his older brother weakly, his crying having finally stopped but the sobs still flowing out within muffled speaking. Romano just cradled him, murmuring soft Italian as he soothed his naive brother.

And England... England was just staring in the opposite direction, spell book and journal both clutched in one hand. No one needed to ask about him - his quiet trembling and the emerald fog in his disturbingly dim eyes easily told everything.

"We failed... It's only us now..." the glasses-wearing nation turned back to Italy, seeing those cherry-rimmed eyes stare blankly into the wooden flooring, no longer hiding into Romano's gravel-colored uniform. Slowly, he looked towards America, forging a pained and broken smile that did not stay up on his face for so long - nevertheless, it wasn't hard to share the mutual feelings of loss.

"Sh... Sh-Should we...?" the brunet's voice cracked, edging dangerously close to breaking down again. England twitched on hearing that, as if he just snapped out of a dream, and led his eyes back to the trio behind him, free fingers awkwardly fingering the spines of the two books.

"...Yes," the blind country eventually spoke after moments of nothing. It comes off a bit more coldly than any of them liked, even to the British man, but they do not comment on it and thus their thoughts are smothered in layers of silence. He smiled cautiously - they don't know if he's aware of it or not. "We should head to a safe place first - we cannot allow that Thing to follow us into the meeting room and scare everyone else, now can we?"

It's a shaky attempt to lift the atmosphere, and they welcome it, even if the rainy country can't see their tiny bits of relief and little smiles about to perk up from the corners of their mouth. The two halves of Italy and America shuffled to get up from the cold floor, the former still clinging quite close to each other - the blue-eyed man thinks of it as a comforting gesture of care, and an unconscious expression of fear - as the latter tucked the leather book and pen into one of the many hidden folds of his jacket.

One thing was clear as they made their silent trip -

This cycle had to break.

We were angry at him because of that. If he had just talked to us about it, just told us... we could have helped - "Why couldn't you just ask us? We're friends - and just what are they for?" That's what we told him, and once all of you learn the truth again, that's what you guys will tell us too.

You all might shout at us, get annoyed at our stupidity and maybe even start a lengthy scolding, but... in the end, we'll all be sleeping over at Japan's house, and when we wake up to a bright and early morning, we'll have a delicious breakfast and maybe we'll go on a fun shopping spree too! Sure, some of you might still be even a tiny bit mad at us, yes-

-But we'll be alive and fine. (We all fucking better be anyway.)

~Feliciano and Lovino Vargas; Alfred F. Jones; Arthur Kirkland

I was just, just too curious and formed at least a dozen 'what if' ideas. Decided to take a magician's hat and randomly pick one out. So basically, the 'what if' here is that Italy fails the current timeline that's happening in the videos, but manages to keep England, America and Romano alive. The three decide to go with him instead of continuing to get out. This drabble can be seen as something that happens in one of the next timelines, or happens in the current one.

Or something vaguely like that. Review if you'd like to.

~Shiroi

PS - Ao Oni's disgusting blueberry monster is disgusting. It practically rivals Ape-Alien Tony.