Okay, redone as I said. I feel this one will go much smoother. This is merely a prologue so it isn't lengthy. Chapter One is underway as of the moment. Anyway, hope you enjoy! For those who follow me, Midnight's Kiss will be updated ASAP. Inspiration for that one is a tad bit low...
Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warnings: Language, Blood, etc.
Prologue
The clock ticked in rhythm with her slowing heart. Sweat beaded on her pale skin and a damp cloth was placed on her forehead. She shuddered from the massive chill that ran through her body. The blood seeping from the corners of her mouth was quickly wiped off by another rag before she lurched and hurled her stomach's contents into the garbage bin that reeked of blood and vomit and was stained with it. She whimpered softly, wishing for it to be over, wishing for death.
"Hang in there, Hungary," the brunette man's glasses reflected the concern in lavender eyes. "Be strong—just as you always have been."
Hungary didn't have the strength to respond and continued leaning over the trashcan, the stench burning her nostrils. Her matted and dull hair draped over her shoulders in a messy heap, sticking to her forehead.
Certain that she was through emptying her stomach, Austria brushed back her hair and helped her lay back down. Gently lifting her head, he tipped the glass of iced water so the cool liquid could nourish her body. He had to keep her hydrated, if anything—he didn't want her condition deteriorating faster than what it already was. He had to keep her alive. He couldn't lose her. He could not lose her.
She was one of the few people who understood him.
Austria wondered what it was like in her country. Complete and utter chaos? Probably. He couldn't let her be around that destruction and bloodshed—what had she done to deserve that? What she done to deserve this? This pain, this sickness… it was killing her. It would kill her.
No, no, stop it, he scolded himself. You can't allow yourself to think like that.
Whilst Austria was lost in his own thoughts, Hungary counted the ticks of her mortal clock. How much time did she actually have? Hours? Minutes? …Seconds? She doubted she had long. She could feel the suffering of her people, hear their cries of despair, experienced their fear…
No.
She didn't have long at all.
And… she was oddly content with that.
Why put Austria and her friends through the anguish of seeing her crumble away like this? It wasn't fair, neither to them nor her. As long as Austria was around, she knew someone would be there to keep Prussia out of trouble… and possibly keep him healthy—alive.
"Austria," Hungary croaked.
"Yes?" said country looked up at his frail companion.
"Would you… play a song for me?" Hungary's voice could barely be heard over the silence. "Please? It would make me very happy."
She attempted a smile, one that required the last spark of radiance she had. Austria stood and nodded sullenly. He didn't dare smile lest it spark false hope.
Trudging over to the piano just outside the room, Austria took his seat, studying the ivory keys. Upon deciding what he was to play, Austria played slowly and carefully, letting each note to hang in the air to sing its own sad song. And within each note Hungary fell, carrying the music with her to the darkness, still wearing a smile.
"Hungary!" a certain country burst into the room, eyes wide and hair disheveled.
Austria continued playing, however, and the tears hitting the keys played the saddest song of all.