Hello! This is my first Hetalia fanfic that I have posted, so I hope you like it! I was listening to this song [Empty Chairs and Empty Tables from Les Mis.] when I thought of this~
DISCLAIMER: I [obviously] do not own Hetalia or Les Miserables. Though that'd be pretty cool if I did~
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.
He could not be there, not in that room anyway. All he could do was stand in the door and stare at the empty table with enough empty chairs for everyone.
Taking a step in the room the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man quickly headed towards the table cautiously, eyes darting the shadows, half-hoping to see someone, half-dreading it if one of them were there.
Here they talked of revolution.
Here it was they lit the flame.
Here they sang about `tomorrow'
And tomorrow never came.
Ludwig, as was the man's name, tried to hide his watering eyes as he picked up the papers that had been left on the table for the next meeting, the meeting that would never come.
Footsteps. The man looked up, his face expressionless but his eyes clouded with grief. There was nothing, no one was there, it was just his imagination. Looking back down he read the top paper which had the word 'Pasta~' lazily scribbled on the side of it. The man pulled the black militaristic hat further down on his head.
Ludwig looked out the dark red draped window in front of him. The world outside was bleak, gray, and rainy, playing off the mood of the man rather well. He sighed and let his mind wander onto the recent events of the previous days.
"Right!" The voice echoed in his mind but he knew it had not been spoken aloud. "I'll do my very best." A younger man with reddish-brown hair and ember eyes came to mind with the words. "I promise! And then when we're done, I can make us all a great big ton of pasta!" A grin was spread across the man's face and Ludwig allowed himself to smile too.
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me.
That I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
The little warmth he found did not last long as he thought of other more recent words the man had spoken. "Hey, Lud, a-are you crying . . .?" The man was no longer in good condition, now his arm was hanging lazily by his side, his clothes were drenched with blood, that was both his and that of others, and his eyes were half open. "Hey, L-lud, there's no reason to cry. I-I'll be alright, I'll m-make you s-some pasta, alright?" The words grew weaker with every breath and the blood coming from the gunshot wound in the man's stomach suggested otherwise.
Ludwig had nodded his head, trying to agree with his half-dead friend. "Feliciano. . . F-feli. . ." His voice was shaking. "I'll get you somewhere safe." Feliciano, as he was known, noted the grief in his friend's eyes and shook his head. "Th-that's alright Lud. . . I'm not gonna make it. A-am I?" He shook his head again. "N-no, I'm n-not." Lud could feel his heart break in two as his friend doubted his own survival. "B-but that's a-alright, tell L-lovi bye f-for me. A-alright? A-and K-kiku, a—"The red-head took in a big gasp of air and Ludwig shook his head. "You can tell them! You're getting out alive, alright?" He was shouting at the frail being that lay in his arms.
Feliciano shook his head again and smiled slightly. "I-it's not y-your fault Lud. . . I-I'm s-sorry I h-have to l-lea—" He was cut short by another gasp of air, "Have to l-leave you." He finished. "B-but stay alive! A-alright L-lud. . ." The ember eyes were becoming glossy. "S-so that you can t-tell t-them. D-don't c-cry to much a-alright? I d-don't like when y-you cry." His voice was a whisper and quietly he finally said. "I l-love you, L-lud. . ." He seemed to become limper, and his eyes glosser causing Ludwig to begin to shake. "Feliciano!" He shouted, but to no avail, the man would not wake up. Ludwig, sick of the fighting took the body of Feliciano to safety; the dead man would never know that Lovino and Kiku were already gone.
Phantom faces at the window.
Phantom shadows on the floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.
It was not until the funeral that Ludwig remembered the last words the man had told him. There, he stood by the marble white coffin and looked at the familiar body of a man he had once known. "I love you too, Feli." He had spoken quietly.
Now, all the words, and all the faces of those who were gone seemed to haunt him. The room with the empty chairs and the large table seemed to mock the blonde, and quickly he left the room.
He missed them, all he had lost, his brother, his friends, his love. They were all gone, the only thing it seemed that they're sacrifice was for something. Now Lud could continue and succeed in his fight. It just wouldn't be the same. Not without them.