I don't own Hetalia.

There was a time when we both were children. We played around in the fields and told each other silly stories. And I was really happy that you, like, were with me, because I knew that I'd totally protect you from all the big bullies out there.

But now, I can't help you.

I'm holding you in my arms, and your bony shoulders jag into my chest, but I don't care. You're, like, too thin. Thinner than me and it worries me. You hair grew grey far too early for me; you smile at me weakly and I feel, like, totally unfabulous.

You were meant to die surrounded by grandchildren and stuff, but I could never give you that. All of our family, yours and mine, aren't here anymore. Only me and you in this totally unfabulous tiny cottage. I never told you, but, you, like, totally gave my life a sense.

And now I realize you're totally gonna leave me, but I'll stay in a world that isn't mine. In a world of Russia's and Ludwig's children, but this time I, like, won't have you to fight with me. I'll totally make it through, though; I still wish you'd see me kicking old Braginsky's ass for all those things he did to you, but you won't see that.

Your body goes limp, and I know there's, like, nothing I can do. You don't exist anymore. You don't matter to the world anymore; but you always mattered to me.

I'm totally youthful and pretty, just as I was when we ran in the fields 1000 years ago. But I'm not really a phoenix anymore; my people are slowly dying and I'm too, along with them.

I'll live for a totally long, long time; but one day, I'll join you, Liet. Promise.

Since I'm a beginner and my writing sucks, I need criticism so I can improve. You don't have to write whole pages about the style and such; just a word or two is enough (like, "plot is boring.").