Hey.
I watched you, you know.
Centuries ago, I watched you.
I watched you get beaten flat on the battlefield.
I watched as I myself beat you down.
I watched the horror on your face when you would lose.
After I started watching, I could not stop.
No, you were addicting.
Just like a drug.
Just like a habit.
Once I started, I couldn't stop.
I watched you all through the years.
I watched you after World War II, once the Wall came down.
At Christmas, I watched you.
I watched you stand with her. I watched you buy her a hat.
And I saw.
I saw how happy you were that she was happy. I saw how happy you were when I wasn't there.
And I cried.
I cried, but I pretended.
Pretended they were tears of joy, of happiness. Pretended that I wasn't hurting. Pretended that I wasn't lonely, that I did not yearn for company. Your company.
I laughed.
Oh, did I laugh. I laughed to force away the agony eating at me. I laughed to make myself feel better. And you know what?
It didn't work.
It never works.
But I still tried.
I watched as him and I tricked you into stripping.
I saw your embarrassment.
I saw your irritation when you saw that it was me.
I saw the relief on your face when she appeared and struck me down.
I looked at you.
I watched you.
I saw you.
But you never cared.
You looked at me.
You watched me.
You stared at me.
However you say it, you looked.
But you never saw.
You could never see me.
You could never look hard enough. Or maybe, you just never cared to.
Why couldn't you see?
Why couldn't you see me?
Why couldn't you see why I do this?
Why… Why couldn't you see that I love you?
Why couldn't you see that I always saw you – that I only saw you?
Why couldn't you see that it was ever only YOU?!
Why?
Why.
This is where it ends, though.
So long, adieu, aufwiedersehen, good night.
Or, better yet-
Good-bye, Roderich Edelstein.
---
A man sat at his desk.
On that desk, there was a sheet of paper.
A gaze was trained on that page, coming from a blank face.
On that blank face, there sat a pair of glasses.
Behind those glasses, there were two violet-coloured eyes.
And from those two eyes came two droplets of salty water.
Those droplets landed on the signature at the bottom of the page, smudging the signature nearly beyond recognition.
A hand rose to that blank face, pressing against trembling lips.
And from those trembling lips came a breathy, disbelieving word-
"Gilbert…"
So. Um. Don't ask what started this, because I don't even know – suddenly, I craved some angst.
This will most likely be a twoshot – but, it will be decided by reviewers! (if there are any).
Alright. If you would like a happy ending, let me know. If you would like it to have a sad ending, let me know. Or, if you would prefer for me to leave it like this, just let me know.
The outcome is based on what you decide.
Because I can't make up my mind.
Hope you enjoyed!
Disclaimer; I don't own Hetalia, it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.