This isn't really as sad as I wanted it to be, but that's just my opinion. It's short, but I think it's good enough.
'I didn't mean it. You know I didn't.
Well, if you knew... we wouldn't be doing this.'
It stared out as a fight. A simple argument. Over... I don't remember what we were going on about. Something about our cultural differences or something similar to that. But we said enough to where we went to war.
War.
This is still my fault. I didn't stand a chance either. I know that. I'll lose this horrible, meaningless war, and it's my fault for causing it in the first place. I shouldn't have started fighting with him about how he lives his life.
My brother liked this idea of going to war with him, which made me happy. At least he was with me, on my side. But... he... he's gone. I know I'll probably never see him again. Alive that is.
I don't think he'd forgive me. I don't think anyone could forgive me. I can't even forgive me. I deserve everything that's coming to me.
Germany is holding his gun to my forehead. I'm on my knees, crying. This is what I deserve. I wanted, so badly, to win this. To show him I am strong. I can defeat him.
But neither me or my brother could. Why did I believe we could?
Well, because he was my...
"Best friend..."
Bang