A/N: Hallo! Thank you for taking time to read this story, though I know it's short. 'Why Leave?' can be read a part from 'Why Stay?' but it might make things a tad bit confusing. I hope you enjoy this first chapter! C:

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia, if I did, I'd be living in Japan and actually be able to draw.


A blonde man stood just a few inches away from an onyx headstone that almost glowed in the afternoon sunlight. The dirt that had been freshly disturbed the last time the man had visited this grave was long healed over with grass. There was nothing marking the spot other than the dark, glinting gravestone. Once upon a time, that stone hadn't been there. Once upon a time...the skeleton laying six feet under Ludwig Beilschmidt's feet was still wrapped in a cocoon of flesh and just as alive as any other human. But now...for almost two years now...Ludwig's bruder had been dead.

More than anything the German wished he could have saved Gilbert. Wished that he'd known how his brother had felt... Ludwig desperately craved the chance to go back in time and realize that his sibling had been showing signs of depression. That he wouldn't have to remember looking over the side of a building in Berlin, watching in seemingly slow motion as his only flesh and blood fell to the Earth below. That he wouldn't have to hear the stomach turning crunch of Gilbert's spine breaking into four pieces as he hit the ground. That he wouldn't have to smell the metallic tang of blood from thirteen stories away as his brother lie motionless on the ground so far below.

Ludwig buried his face in his hands when his knees gave out, landing him in front of his brother's onyx grave marker, and choking out sobs. Why did Gilbert choose to commit suicide? Why...Why hadn't he talked to Ludwig about it? Did he really distrust his younger sibling that much? With his shoulders shaking, anyone could see that the German's usual stoicism had been brutally ripped away. But it was like that for anyone else who'd known Gilbert Beilschmidt during his long life as a nation and ex-nation. The nation of Germany was not the only one effected, not by a long shot, but it felt like he was the only one left who remembered. The only one who could recall his brother's annoying laugh and obsession with his blog. Ludwig wondered if Francis and Antonio even thought about the late member of the Bad Touch Trio. Ludwig wondered many things these days. He pondered Gilbert's death, always replaying the scene in his head over and over again, desperately searching for a way his bruder could have been saved.

He never did find one.

One day, Ludwig would tire of trying to bring back what was long gone. He'd come to terms with the fact that his closest friend and blood relation has vanished from this Earth for eternity. But that day was far, far away, decades from now. All the German could do was grieve, hoping that his words of love would reach Gilbert, where ever he'd ended up. Maybe nations had a place all their own in the afterlife, Ludwig thought idly. Maybe his brother would be waiting for him when it was Ludwig's turn to die. Maybe...

A cold gust of air blew through Germany's coat, making him look up at the sky. It was a dark, gunmetal gray, and the clouds were threatening to burst. Surprised, Germany looked at his watch. He'd been at Gilbert's grave for over three hours. Looking at the sky again, Ludwig recalled Feliciano saying it was supposed to rain today. With a pained sigh, the blonde got to his feet, taking a last look at Gilbert's grave.

"Ich liebe dich, mein bruder."

As Ludwig's footsteps crunched across fallen autumn leaves toward the cemetery's exit, a faint whisper on the wind could be heard.

"Ich liebe dich, Westen."

Before it was heard by human ears, the whisper faded away, and the rain began to fall.