Attention! This story contains: Angst. I think. Also, there isn't really a plot... just angst. It's more like the end of a story with a plot. A dark plot...

Also, this is just me procrastinating on my other stories.

Mwa ha ha ha... *sobs*

I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers. If I did, well... I think I'd qualify for PRUSSIA-LEVEL AWESOMENESS.

But I don't own it, so I don't qualify, sadly.

Okay, you may read... this thing... now...

It was inside Lithuania's bedroom that Ivan kneeled at the bedside, wringing his hands in anger towards himself.

Toris's broken, disfigured body was sprawled out before him, unmoving. The eyes of the younger man stared ahead blankly at the ceiling, never blinking, never focusing.

It was his fault he was like this, Russia knew. A few tears landed on the carpet, with more on the way as they slowly leaked from Ivan's tear ducts. He had done this... he had broken him...

Ivan took Toris's cold, unresponsive hand in his own. His glove was soiled with the other man's blood. It had used to be a beautiful feeling... the blood of Toris's wounds seeping onto his own clothes, as Russia dominated him, showed him who was in charge. It did not feel so pleasant any more.

He took at least small comfort in knowing that the younger nation was still alive, somewhat. Lithuania was not moving, not making any sound, not even registering Russia's presence, but he was breathing, at least.

Breathing. Alive.

He was alive, but just barely. More tears flowed down Russia's cheeks, landing on his coat and dampening it.

It was a strange sight, what Russia was doing. Crying was something he never normally did—he worked rather hard to keep smiling, no matter what he was really feeling—but now he was doing it, crying like a little child, as he kneeled by Lithuania's broken, barely living body.

"I'm sorry…" he muttered in between sobs. "I'm so sorry…"

The (very rare) apologies fell on deaf ears. Lithuania's mind was somewhere else, somewhere probably better, Russia thought. It was probably broken at that point. Just like the rest of him, just like his body and spirit, it was all broken. Perhaps he would never come back to being his normal self ever again.

"Please, don't leave me… Toris… I'm sorry…"

But no amount of tears could heal Lithuania's broken bones. No amount of apologies could mend his tattered, worn out spirit. No amount of cuddling or hugs could fix the brunette's shattered mind, which might not even return. The tears continued to flood and collect in pools around the giant country's knees, knees that were so large and imposing that they flattened the worn, shaggy carpet.

They were the knees of a monster.

Russia cried because knew that this was his fault. It was his fault that Lithuania might never come back to him again. He cried because he knew he might lose the one person who really understood him, even if they only understood him a little bit.

He cried because he knew he could have stopped himself from causing this. He could have learned restraint. He had been tortured and harmed for years by others—he should have known how far it was until you pushed a person's body too far. How far it was until they could no longer get back up again. How far it was, until you permanently broke them.

But he hadn't learned restraint; he did cause this. Now, his little Lithuania was broken.

He always did end up breaking his toys…

Review... or not...

(Personally, I'm not sure where this idea came from...)

Also! Before Iggy kills me, could someone please tell me something?

Which is the right word to use in this sentence:

"But he hadn't learned restraint;"

or

"But he hadn't learnt restraint;"

Thank you! (I'm American... HA HA HA HA *Hero laugh*)