Author'sNote: This is a song-fic for HetaOni describing Italy's time in one of the time-loops and how he feels about it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, HetaOni, or the song How Could This Happen To Me by Simple Plan.

HetaOni; How Could This Happen To Me?

I open my eyes,

I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light.

I can't remember how,

I can't remember why,

I'm laying here tonight.

And I can't STAND the pain,

And I can't make it go away.

No I can't STAND the pain.

He was alone... alone again...

Italy stood in the center of a bedroom, completely covered in blood, as was the rest of the room. The white walls, pure white furniture, the wooden floor – all covered in the blood of his friends. He had failed again, just like he had the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and all the times he had tried since first arriving at the mansion.

He was the only one left alive, just like the very first time.

Japan, China, Prussia, America, Canada, England, France, Russia, and Germany...all gone. Lying dead at his feet in what they thought would be their last time fighting the monster before finally reaching freedom. Italy had kept every single one of them alive this time, right up until they had retrieved the key and were about to make a break for it.

But that was when they showed up.

They had cornered them in the bedroom.

Theyhad killed all his friends while he watched, helplessly as they were cut down one by one.

They were the very reason he had to continually rewind time, only to watch his friends die all over again.

How could this happen to me?

I've made my mistakes,

got nowhere to run.

The night goes on as I'm fading away.

I'm sick of this life.

I just wanna scream.

How could this happen to me?

Why him? Why did they always have to protect him? The coward with the white flag, the one who would skip training, the pasta loving fool.

And yet he had been the only one to get out of the mansion the first time.

Of all the time-loops he had been through, it was the first one that was the most painful. And one of the only ones he could remember clearly, as though it had happened yesterday instead of about fifty or so time-loops ago. But as they say, the most painful memories are the ones you tend to remember best.

Japan on the piano, China, Russia, and France fighting the Thing off while he and the others escaped. England and Canada lying on the beds, injured, while America volunteered to stay behind with them while Italy ran, Germany and Prussia telling him to get out, and finally him running out of the mansion, and asking the Thing to rewind time.

He was sick of it all.

Why couldn't he get them all out alive? He was going through a never ending cycle. It was like trying to climb up to the top of a rock-climbing wall, to get so close to reaching the top, only for one wrong move to send you tumbling back to Earth.

Everybody's screaming,

I try to make a sound but no one hears me.

I'm slipping off the edge,

I'm hanging by a thread,

I wanna start this over again.

He would have to rewind time again. Go through another loop. But what good would that do him? Italy continually tries to warn his friends over and over again only for them to not listen until it was to late. Until they had all become trapped in this hellhole.

He could never go back any farther than after he had told America about the mansion, and from that point onward the only way to get away from the mansion is to go inside, get the key, and either get out or turn back time. For once an idea has been conceived, it is almost impossible to make them forget.

The Things were gone for now, but he needed to go to the clock before they came back. Taking one last look at the bodies of his friends strewn around the room, seeming so peaceful in death, Italy ran out of the room. And he continued to run all the way to the clock, trying to keep himself together like he did every time after seeing his friends die again.

So I try to hold,

On to a time when,

Nothing mattered.

And I can't explain what happened,

And I can't erase the things that I've done,

No I can't.

It was becoming harder and harder to do this the time-loops he went through. He could hardly remember anything before having come to the mansion, he had been in here so long. As for the few memories he did have he held onto them for as long as he could before they were replaced by more images of his friends dieing in all the different time-loops.

Italy couldn't even remember how he had met Germany, although it had something to do with a box of tomatoes. He hadn't seen his brother for so long, or any of the other countries that had already left the meeting by the time he had told America about the mansion. He did vaguely remember that he, Japan, and Germany had been part of some group, but he could no longer remember the name. All he knew was that it started with an "A".

How could this happen to me?

I've made my mistakes,

got nowhere to run.

The night goes on as I'm fading away.

I'm sick of this life.

I just wanna scream.

How could this happen to me?

Italy had finally reached the giant grandfather clock. He slowly reached his hand up towards the little hands on the clock's face, only for the sound of a door slamming behind him make him turn around.

"YoU...WoN't...EsCaPe..."

The Thing was back.

"What's wrong, Steve?" Italy asked, purposefully giving the Thing a very silly name, as it seemed to aggravate it. "Don't think you can survive another time-loop? Afraid that me and my friends will actually escape next time?"

The Thing growled, and if it had ears steam probably would have been coming out of them, it was that angry.

"YoU...WoN't...EsCaPe..."

"We'll see about that." and before the monster could do anything, Italy turned the clock's hands counterclockwise. Italy soon found himself falling, falling through a portal of some kind, going back to when he had first told America about the mansion. Going back to the very beginning once more.

I've made my mistakes,

got nowhere to run.

The night goes on as I'm fading away.

I'm sick of this life.

I just wanna scream.

How could this happen to me?

It didn't really matter how he had ended up being the one to constantly have to turn back time. It didn't matter how futile the whole thing seemed to be. It didn't matter how many times Italy failed. All that mattered was getting them all out alive. And this time, this time Italy was determined to do that.

Or die trying.