This isn't intended to be a oneshot story so if people like it I'll add the other chapters! Hope you enjoy!
"It wasn't me"
Bulgaria found this difficult to believe, despite how much he wanted to. Romania was such a dear friend to him, but he was standing here, dripping with thick crimson blood, not to mention the other unsavoury bodily insides coating and hanging from the rest of him. Yet, that look of innocence and even fear seemed to hold some essence of truth in his words. Bulgaria gritted his teeth. The usual perky goth was breathing heavily, his eyes pleading the other male for forgiveness. He stood among the three mangled corpses, in their flesh and blood, their torn out insides. Somehow, the dark haired Bulgarian was still able to recognise the faces of the recently deceased.
On the left, propped up by the grimy wall, the once passionate country of France lay. The usual flirtatious smirk on his face was now replaced by a look of shock and fear; his eyes still open, but split down the middle in each one, leaving a red line. Also, most of his beautiful blonde locks seemed to have been forcefully ripped out in fistfuls, leaving a small, misshapen but golden ring around the topside of his head, like a halo. Near to him, the green eyed country of Spain looked unemotional in death. Most of his hair and skin had been charred black and was flaking off everywhere. This left areas of exposed red muscle which were raw but soft to the touch. Bulgaria winced as his footsteps crunched on the burnt crisps of skin. The third victim looked like he had suffered the worst treatment, though judging by the sword in his hand he may have gone down fighting. One of his arms and legs had both almost been removed; they still hung on by stick threads of vein and muscle. Fresh blood still seeped out from the broken blood vessels. One of his-ironically-red eyes was bleeding for real. The whole thing looked like it had been pierced with something sharp, as though it had pierced the iris which was seeping the red liquid. Aside from that, many random wounds and scars littered his pale skin, staining the pure white of it, as well as his pure white hair. The 'awesome' Prussia was now a literal bloody mess. Down each of the dead country's abdomens was a large tear, revealing all their shredded internal organs; their guts were not in there however because they were draped sickeningly elegantly over Romania's shoulders like it was some twisted form of fashion.
The entire scene made Bulgaria want to vomit, or scream. However, he was unable to do either. Not until he noticed Romania's breath turned into hyperventilation. The strawberry blonde fanged man began to turn into a panicked state and started screaming out in anguish, a mixture of tears and blood (not his own) streaming down his pale cheeks from his unnervingly red eyes. By instinct, the Bulgarian man shuffled over and held him close, wiping away the blood and guts, whispering soothing words into his ear to try and retain his sanity. Bulgaria had no idea why he was doing this; by all rights he should be terrified, but for some reason Romania's wellbeing took priority over everything else right now.
"IT WASN'T ME, IT WASN'T ME!" Romania kept screaming, pounding his bruised and bloodied fists into Bulgaria's chest. The dark haired male grabbe the other's fists and held them together shakily between his, trying to calm the Romanian and himself down. Romania stared at him, his face twisted with emotional pain and confusion which cut Bulgaria to the core.
"It's okay, it's not your fault" he tried to assure him, though he was very unsure of his own words. The unmoving bodies of Spain, Prussia and France watched them with glassed over eyes with judgement but by this point, Romania was able to ignore them. He rested his head on his friends chest, concentrating only on his living heartbeat. Bulgaria sat that there, a comforting hand resting behind his friend's head.
Romania said he didn't do it.
Bulgaria only hope he was telling the truth.