I would also like to note that I'm not a Hetalian anymore, so all of my future updates will be publishing old work I had written for this piece. The plot is a little strange and a lot of other things need work. I removed almost all instances of "Ve~" and tildes.

Ludwig and Feliciano rounded a corner, and stopped in front of a tall apartment building. Ever since the—the disaster, as the nations liked to call it, they had spread out from their homes and all gotten living quarters where they couldn't be attacked. However, Gilbert had his own apartment building, because he was then completely mortal… Ludwig blinked twice, trying to snap out of the trance that he was in. It wasn't helpful. Gilbert was dead, never to—

Feliciano turned around and blinked twice. "Ludwig?"

The security forces surrounding the well-guarded house couldn't had let any random psycho enter, that was a fact. They were German and some of Ludwig's old bodyguards. Ludwig trusted them with guarding his brother. They couldn't had possibly let him down.

Ludwig sighed, and gestured for Feliciano to keep on moving.

Feliciano walked onto the limestone path in front of the apartment complex, Ludwig following him. The supposed-civilians at the front nodded curtly, sending a chain reaction throughout the line.

After Gilbert had moved into the entire apartment, he was suddenly quieter (but still had his old ego). The German nation took a deep but shaky breath.

When Ludwig took a step inside, he noticed that the apartment was completely silent. He stared down at the worn doormat, the fuzzy yellow letters spelling out "Willkommen". On the top left corner, there was a tiny yellow knitted bird, presumably Gilbird.

People didn't change that easily. Ludwig sighed again.

Feliciano waved over to the man sitting at the front desk, gesturing at Ludwig and then himself. The man nodded, and pointed to the staircase grimly. Feliciano slowly trudged up. "This is where I found him to be," Feliciano said. "I was waiting to speak with him about you—but there he was, dead. On the ground. Dead, Luddy!" Feliciano choked on a sob. He pushed open the heavy oak door, which had a metal cover over half of it. Ludwig's eyes scanned the room from top to bottom—it looked like a murder scene indeed. The curtains were ripped, the cabinet with picture frames on it was destroyed, and the floor was splattered with blood.

His eyes then reached the body in front of him. He gulped. It looked real. It looked real. The thought terrified Ludwig—if it were real, then he would shake Gilbert by the shoulders, to tell him to stop faking it.

There, lying in front of him, was the brusied, bloodied, and battered corpse of his brother.

Gilbert was facing down, a hole in his back where there was the most dried blood around. Ludwig curiously stepped forward, his eyes wide. He wondered if it was real. Black mist seeped out of the wound.

"Wait, Feliciano, when did this happen?" His legs felt weak, as if they were about to collapse. Years of being stoic told him to never show any emotions, never to betray his strong image. Ludwig wanted to cry so badly, to show that he wasn't a maniac, to show that he wasn't a robot who was cruel enough to stand still at the sight of death.

"I found it today, Luddy..."

"Why is there black mist coming out from his body?"

"I don't know, Luddy, where's the black mist?" Ludwig examined the corpse, crouching down and leaning over to touch his brother's hair. It was stained a light-gray, something that Gilbert would have never allowed to happen. A dream came flashing back to him, a fleeting thought of one where Gilbert's hair was coated with ash and blood and dust.

I told you you shouldn't have fell

You little weakling, don't you see that this would have happened

And you actually trusted Gilbert in that one dream to fend for himself because you knew Feliciano was weak

So you left your brother alone

When you were running you tripped

And then Feliciano pulled you up

And continued to run on his own

"... Feli?" Ludwig slowly sat up, blinking twice. "... what happened?"

"Ludwig," Feliciano sobbed. "You suddenly fell down and then looked like Pru—Gilbert without the blood! Feliciano was worried, he was scared that Ger—Ludwig had ended up like Gilbert!" Ludwig's vision swarmed. "You were on the ground for ten minutes!" Feliciano continued, kneeling down and pulling Ludwig into a hug. He could hear the footsteps of the guards marching up the stairs, he could hear them stop abruptly at the door... one of them coughed. Ludwig suspiciously turned toward the creaking door.

You little weakling

A stoic soldier peeked into the room to make sure what had happened wasn't disastrous, deadly, or deathly. He nodded, then closed the door. Ludwig watched the door slowly slam as he felt something arise from the corpse next to him.

It most certainly was not body heat, because dead bodies didn't emit body heat.

"Ludwig, are you okay now?"

And I trusted you to carry out a task

But you were too weak, and so here's your punishment

Ludwig wasn't paying attention to the words that were playing in his mind, Ludwig wasn't paying attention to Feliciano. He slowly moved his hand toward Gilbert's corpse to touch the big and bloodied wound, which was suddenly gushing black mist. The black mist hit his face...

"—LUDDDY!" It had appeared that Ludwig's hand was surrounded by the shadow, and it was being pulled in by something strange, something that refused to stop pulling on his hand. Ludwig jerked his hand back, but it was still getting sucked into the black mist.

Take my hand and we'll go

Ludwig decided that if he was dreaming, then somebody were to pinch him.

"Feliciano, please pinch me."

"Why?"

"Feliciano."

Feliciano pinched Ludwig, and Ludwig's face remained the same.

"It didn't work," Ludwig said, gritting his teeth. Then Ludwig disappeared, leaving a very confused Feliciano.

"Luddy? W-where did you go?"

In the cafe they had met in, a mile or so back south, a confused Germanic nation was rubbing his head, and a small Italian man was comforting him.