Author's Note: Just a heads up, Germany won't show up until chapter 3
"Just leave me and save yourself, Romano!"
"No, you fucking idiot! Either we both get out of this or neither of us does!"
They hadn't lied when they said war was hell. The very earth seemed to bleed. This place, even though it was all but impossible to imagine so now, had once been a pristine, beautiful, unspoiled field. Now… Now it was hell on earth. A wasteland. As far as the eye could see, which admittedly wasn't very far in this weather, was nothing but desolate wasteland broken only by fresh corpses of brave soldiers from both sides, and the occasional tank. The ground was a strange, otherworldly mixture of blood and mud and rainwater and gunpowder and sharp, jagged shards of metal and god only knows what else. Gunfire from every conceivable direction and distance drowned out even the pouring rain. Even right next to his brother, Lovino had to yell himself hoarse to be heard.
God, his brother…
Feliciano's arm had been crushed and pinned underneath an unidentifiable, mangled shred of metal. The kind of sight that would stick in one's memory for ages from just a simple glimpse. The brothers had been caught from behind by a blast of undeterminable origin, and when Lovino had pulled his frame from the accursed mud, his brother Feliciano had been unable to follow. Lovino had a sinking feeling it was from one of his own tanks. Something meant to protect his idiot brother, not hurt him! And now Feli was going to loose that arm, and probably his life too if Lovino didn't do something about it fast!
Not that Lovino cared about Feliciano. At all. No, this was for his own sake. If he didn't take cover soon, and by soon he meant in the next ten seconds, he was going to get shot, or blown up, or some enemy soldier was going to find him. God, he didn't even remember who they were fighting anymore! They were both going to get shot, and Lovino was not prepared to die just because his stupid brother got his fucking arm caught under some stupid fucking piece of tank. Not over that whiny little loser, that fucking moron who couldn't even manage to get out of the way in time.
At least, that's what Lovino told himself. It was getting harder and harder to think of Feliciano as a useless coward with him laying pinned to the ground, clearly in immense pain and facing certain death, telling his brother to go on without him.
"Romano, just run!" Feliciano's voice cracked and wavered. It almost would have been easier if his voice sounded weak, or if he looked close to unconsciousness. If his eyes looked glazed… but no, the idiot was completely aware. The wound was nowhere near mortal, just painful. And god damn it all, Feliciano was hanging in there. "Romano, what are you doing just standing there? RUN!"
Oh god damnit, that was unfair. That was cheating. Lovino didn't even need eyes to tell that Feli was crying. The fucking idiot was in tears! Feliciano was scared, and Lovino just knew, felt in the very core of his being, by the small thread that connected them as brothers, as Italy, that Feli wasn't scared for himself. Feliciano, bless his soul… He wasn't focused on his own pain. On the shattered bones and god knows what else was wrong or wounded or probably burned under that sheet of metal. He was scared… scared for Lovino.
In that moment, that shared heartbeat between them, Lovino knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he left his brother behind. It was both of them, or neither of them. The battle was lost, but god dammit that didn't mean that Romano had to lose his brother! N-not that he cared.
Lovino would have to cut off Feliciano's arm to save them both.