AN: Here we are, a Hetaoni one-shot for commissions. Most of this uses actual scenes, but the ending is just my own bit.

To my commissioner: I really have no idea if this is what you wanted or what, but because I kind of lost the paper with the description, I used what I remember. Ahaha...;; Sorry if it isn't satisfactory.

Please review! It will make me quite happy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetaoni or Hetalia.

"Time is free, but it's priceless. You can't own it, but you can use it. You can't keep it, but you can spend it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back." – Harvey MacKay

He was running. He was running as fast as his feet could carry him, the sound of his shoes hitting wood flooring echoing. His breaths came in short gasps, chest heaving as he willed himself to keep going, if just for a little bit longer. His body felt incredibly heavy, blood running freely from some wounds. The thick, red liquid left a trail of drops wherever he went, revealing his path. As tired as he was, he could not allow himself to stop running; it was the only thing keeping him safe.

He felt the rain hitting his face as he emerged from the house. He paused, unable to believe he had made it. Turning back to look at the house, his eyes were wide with realization.

"What the hell? This doesn't make any sense. Out of everyone, I'm the only one who left? What the hell? What the hell?" The creature appeared in the doorway, and he turned tail and fled towards the gate. Tears flowed from his eyes as he ran. The exit was before him, just within his grasp. Soon he would be free, and he wouldn't have to face that thing any longer. So close; only a few more steps and he would have escaped—

He stopped, turning on his heels to face the creature. He stared into its large grey eyes, letting his gaze run over the length of the creature, taking into account its large body and powerful limbs—limbs that had taken his friends' lives.

"Stop!" The thing listened, pausing in its chase. Rain was pouring around them, the sky crying heavily and turning the ground into slippery mud. The house loomed above them menacingly, the building taunting him; blaming him.

"I won, right? You couldn't catch me; you lost!" he screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks and dropping off his chin to kiss the ground. He couldn't handle it; he had lost all his friends. He was all alone, and it was too much.

"The moment I get out of here, you'll lose! There's nothing you can do from that distance!" He gritted his teeth, still crying. He clenched his fists, sure that the thin skin would break if he dug his nails into his palms any harder. Anything to ease the pain, his mind whispered.

"Doesn't that make you frustrated? Huh? I'm your last trophy, after all. You lost to a guy who's only redeeming feature is his fast feet," he taunted it, enjoying that there was nothing the thing could do to him now. He had escaped with his speed and ability to flee. It had kept him alive this entire time—that and his friends' protection. But there was nothing left now.

The images of everyone plagued his mind, each of their torn and blood-soaked bodies flashing before his eyes over and over again, as if a slide show was being played repeatedly. The scenes where each of their eyes closed for the last time, never to open again, were played out in front of him as he ran. Their last breaths were taken, and their bodies went still forever more. The hearts in their chests stopped moving and they were gone.

"…back…" he muttered quietly, looking at his feet. "Take us back!" he screeched suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. The creature only stood and stared at him with those huge, unblinking eyes, forever boring into his soul. "You can take us back in this warped space, can't you? If you do that, why don't you eat me first? If you can catch me, that is." He opened his eyes to glare at the thing, pausing, hoping for a reaction.

…None.

"Go back!" he screamed at it, unable to contain his rage. A reaction was elicited from the thing, and everything went white. Everything was resetting. And then everything went completely black. He would save them this time; he wouldn't let them protect him. He wouldn't be useless. He wouldn't let them die for his sake.

He couldn't let this happen; not again—never again.

Especially not to them.

They had sacrificed themselves. They had let themselves die for him; to protect him. And he hadn't been able to protect them. This second chance, no one had died yet; no one was gone. He would take their places and let them live; he would make sure they got out alive, even if it meant he could not go with them. He wouldn't let them die again, even if it meant he had to trick every single one of them.

Its weakness is its forehead… The creature disappeared. "I…did it…I…saved…everyone! I made no mistakes…!" he managed to choke out, a smile adorning his face. Everyone was injured, but they were alive! He collapsed to the ground, unable to move. Everyone was staring at him in shock, and when he began to explain that this was the second time they had all entered the mansion, they looked horribly surprised.

Japan's injuries were the worst, but he was still breathing. Prussia's leg was broken, but he was still alive. America, England, Canada, Germany, and Francis were injured as well, but they were still here. He did it! He didn't lose anyone this time—he saved them all!

"I'm sorry, but it's my time to fall…" Blood was leaking out of his body everywhere, staining the carpet beneath him. He had been useless the first time… But this time he did it! He saved everyone; he managed to keep them all! Everyone began to scramble around, trying to help—trying to save him this time.

"You—you idiot! You did have to get us out! You had to get out with us!" France's voice reached his ear, and he smiled sadly, unable to do much else.

I can hear their voices… I was all alone back then, but now they're alive. I'm so happy… I'm so happy, but…

A last request was made; he wanted a place for all of them to rest at ease—a place where they would be safe. He wanted to cook pasta for them all and see them all smiling. He made Germany promise him that.

He felt the German's lips touch his lightly, and he sighed heavily.

"Ger-many... I-I don't want to die here. I wanted to escape with all of you." The words escaped from his mouth weakly as he came to terms with himself; in truth, he didn't want to go. He wanted to be able to leave with his friends and he wanted to be able to laugh with them once more. He wanted to stop seeing the tears, the blood; the despair. He just wanted for them to escape. And he found himself wanting to go with them, no matter how much he tried to persuade himself that this was for the better.

"I-Italy…" That was the last thing he heard before everything went completely black.

How many times will I have to watch my friends die?

He couldn't believe it. He had lost them again—not all of them this time, but he had still lost them. He tried to warn them. He tried to make them turn back; but they thought he was just being a coward. Curse his cowardice. Curse his uselessness.

Another chance; how many times would he have to start over; how many times would he have to try again? How many times would he fail? The thought was beginning to become too much for his mind to bear.

"I told you! This house is dangerous! I've seen it!" They simply laughed, thinking he was overreacting. They wouldn't believe him, no matter how hard he tried to persuade them he was telling the truth. They simply looked confused as the tears ran down his face. He still continued to beg them to leave.

But he knew it was much too late, for they had already entered the hellhole, his personal nightmare. And when he realized they would only think he was lying, he knew he had to somehow keep them alive. He knew he would have to act. He would lie; even if they ended up hating him for it, he would lie and save them all.

To the me who lives at some point in time and isn't alone…

Once again, I made some mistakes, and also some progress.

Meanwhile, I finally, but slowly, begin to learn to rely on my friends.

I was constantly afraid that everyone would blame me for dragging them into this, and that they would hate me, or be appalled at me, or get mad at me, and leave me…

But then I was told I had the wrong idea.

Why didn't you rely on your friends sooner? What are friends for?

"Italy?" At the sound of his name, the Italian nation turned his head to rest his gaze on the German holding him. Italy gazed up at Germany, a sad smile decorating his face. He hoped he didn't look too bad; after all, he figured he wouldn't be much of a sight to see covered in blood and littered with wounds.

"G-Germany?" he murmured, eyes beginning to droop. But something shook him, and he snapped his eyes open again, fighting the exhaustion. He could see the journal in England's hands out of the corner of his eye. He had managed to finish writing in it before the creature had found him and attacked, leaving the precious note for his future self.

"Don't fall asleep on me, please? Stay awake," Germany begged of him, voice desperate. But he sounded so far away. Italy couldn't even see the other's face anymore; it was all just soft white fuzz, as though someone had pulled cotton over his eyes. Nevertheless, he forced his eyes to stay open, just to reassure the other that he was still conscious. He felt moisture hit his cheek, and he knew Germany was crying.

"But Captain, I'm so tired," he said slowly, having a hard time getting the words out. Funny, he thought. He was dying, yet he wasn't scared at all. But they had already lost some other nations, so he didn't mind dying this time. He had managed to help open the path to reverse time—England would be able to do it.

"Italy!" The forceful voice jolted the Italian back once more. "Stay awake, you hear? We'll get you to the safe room, just please hold on—"

Italy had struggled to move his limbs, but he managed to lift a hand and press a finger to Germany's lips. "Don't worry, Germany. I-I'll see you again soon, okay?" he tried to say clearly and confidently, but his voice broke. "I-I'll be with Germany again soon."

He knew the German was shaking his head in objection, not wanting to lose him. He couldn't do anything about it though. "I'm so sorry… I should have… Relied on you… I should have… Let you help…" he whispered, tears escaping his eyes.

The grip around him tightened, and Italy could feel himself drifting off once more, feeling death take his hand and begin to pull him away. His eyes began to shut, and he knew this would be the last time for him in this loop. It was barely noticeable to him at first, but he knew he felt something against his lips; Germany was kissing him. It was light and full of despair; so full of regret and love.

Italy's heart fluttered as it slowly began to stop beating, the blood circulating in his body barely leaking out of his wounds now. He pressed back softly, unable to do much more. They broke apart, tears falling from both of their eyes. Germany pressed his forehead to Italy's, his sobs coming out quietly. Italy let out a small sigh, whispering a few last words to the man cradling him.

"Ti amo, Germania…"

In the few seconds after saying that, Italy was sure he would no longer hear anything more. Breath tickled his ear, and he barely caught the words uttered to him before he let himself fall into blissful unconsciousness.

"Ich liebe dich, Italien…"