TheBoogyman-

Hi! Chapter two is up! YAY! I actually wrote this before chapter one because THIS was supposed to be chapter one. Well, anyway, here goes.

Disclaimer- Does it look like I own Hetalia?

Drowning

"77" he mumbles quietly to no one in particular as he tilts jug of bleach back to meet his pink lips. He takes a few gulps but has to pause after the forth because it tastes horrible.
'Suck it up, you pussy,' he thinks bitterly to himself. He lifts the bottle again and finishes what's left before setting it down and wiping the spillage off his chin.
"Ve~ fratello, are you ready for the meeting? We don't want to be late again..." he hears his brother call from the other side of the laundry room door.
"Don't fucking rush me. I'll be ready when I'm ready, dammit!" Fuck, why did he have to say it like that? Why couldn't he be nicer? Why couldn't he be more like his brother? Why couldn't he be Feli?
These were the thoughts racing through his brain as he waited for the bleach to work its magic.
He found it kind of ironic that he was trying bleach this time. Bleach was used to take stains out of clothes and here he was using it to remove a stain from the face of the earth.
That is, if it worked this time. Like he said, 77. Meaning 76 other tries before this one. Each time more of a failure than the last. Drowning, burning, cutting, hanging. It all ended the same. Waking up passed out on the floor the next morning feeling completely fine. He hated that feeling. Hated it with a passion. It made him feel like even more of a miserable pathetic failure. It made him wish that he wasn't a nation, just so he could put himself out of his misery. He glanced at his watch.
'Ten more seconds..." he thought to himself
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick,, tick, tick, tick.
"No effect," he says quietly as he scribbles out the words 'drink bleach' in the small notebook sitting on the dryer. He's been keeping a journal for the past year and a half listing all the ways he could try to off himself. This was his seventy seventh attempt.
He sighs as he closes the notebook at steps out of the small laundry room.
"Ve~ What were you doing in there? You don't even know how to use the washing machine!" Feliciano says with a slight giggle. Lovino hated that he couldn't be care-free like that. That he couldn't smile and laugh. He hated that he would always just be second best compared to Feli. 'That's why you do it.' He reminds himself. That's why he wants to end it all. One can only stand to be second best for so long before it starts to wear them down.
"Let's just go. We're gonna be late," he grumbles brushing past his little fratello, skulking down the hall in a worse mood than he was earlier that morning. Another failure. 'Stupid bleach,' the hot-blooded Italian thinks, blaming the bleach for his accursed inability to die no matter how hard he tried. It just wasn't fair.
The drive to the meeting was a short one, much to Lovino's pleasure. He loved his brother, and he enjoyed pasta quite a bit, but he could not stand to sit there and listen to him babble on about how wonderful it is. He was extremely grateful when he saw the large office building that the meeting would be held in come into view.
They were meeting to talk about global warming or peace in the middle or some other crap. He didn't care. It's not like his opinion mattered. Not like he'd be missed. It's not like anyone would come to look for him if he died on the floor, having bled to death from slitting a major artery in his wrist or poisoning himself by 'accidentally' mistaking bleach for water. No one would look because no one would care. And could he blame them?
He was pathetic. A crybaby. Fat. Ugly. Stupid. A wimp. An asshole.
'Pathetic' he thought silently to himself as he gripped the steering wheel, gazing down into his lap.
"Umm... Romano? Ar- are you alright? DIO MIO! MY BROTHER IS BROKEN!" The younger Italian sobbed, snapping Lovino out of his self loathing. He looks up to see his hopelessly innocent brother standing outside the car on the passenger side, crying like a baby out of fear for his dear fratello.
"Shut up, idiot. I'm fine. I'm just tired. Let's just get this fucking meeting over with..." he grumbles, getting out of the car. His head spins slightly as he stands and he grabs the door of his cherry red Ferrari, but his brother doesn't notice and just continues babbling about how worried he was.
'Wow. Maybe the bleach IS working,' he thinks cynically, lips curling into a rueful smirk. 'Oh that's great. I hope I go before that idiot American starts talking...' He continues his dark thoughts during the elevator ride up to the 22nd floor and on to the short walk to conference room C. He starts to feel himself steadily get more lightheaded and blinks a few times to regain his focus. He quietly walks into the meeting, hiding behind his brother who was chatting away cheerily with the younger potato bastard. He was hoping to avoid him. The one he admired, looked up to. The one he loved. The one he could never be good enough for...
"Lovi~! I'm so glad you're here" The Spaniard said joyously, hugging the smaller Italian man enthusiastically.
"Get OFF me, pomodoro bastard," he states, but it doesn't have its usual bite to it. The bleach is really getting to him now...
He can't understand why Spain even humors him. Why bother? He can already tell that the Spaniard loves his brother more then him
Your adorable… but he's cuter
I love you… but I love him more
Your good… but he will always be better
The thoughts echoed through his head. He knows Toni doesn't mean things to come out that way, but what is he supposed to think when the Spaniard tells him about how much he wishes that he could have had Feliciano too. He knows that he's not enough for the man. Knows he'll never be worthy of kind-hearted, sweet Antonio, so he just keep trying to push him away...
He sighs quietly as he takes a seat between Matthew and Antonio. He has a soft spot for the Canadian. He knows what it's like to feel ignored and tries his very best to acknowledge the man whenever he can.
"Morning Matthew," he can hear his speech slurring slightly. Matthew doesn't seem to notice, and if he does he brushes it off.
"Good Morning, Lovino! You just made it. I thought we were going to have to start without yo-" Matt is cut off mid-sentence by his twin's over-powering voice.
"Now that everyone's here, let's get started! I think..." Lovino tunes out after that. He's really starting to feel funny and his tongue is going numb. He feels a tickle in the back of his throat and he coughs quietly to get rid of it. But when he pulls his hand back a red stain is reveled. The two nations beside him notice almost instantly.
"Lovino you're bleeding!" Matthew shouts, alerting Alfred and Arthur, who were having a shouting contest, to the situation at the other side of the large table.
"Sí! Lovi we need to take you to the hospital!" Spain cries anxiously.
"Shut up, idiot. I'm fi-" a sharp pain in his abdomen silences him. He clutches his rips with one hand and covers his mouth with his hand to keep from crying out in pain. Suddenly, he feels something coming up the back of his throat and jumps from his chair. He flees the conference room and heads straight for the nearest toilet with Spain, Italy, and several other confused countries in tow.
Spain is the first one into the bathroom after him and heads straight for the stall the sickening heaving sounds are coming from.
In the stall, he found that Romano was busy empting the contents of his stomach into the poor innocent toilet, who, just a few moments ago had been minding his own business.
When the Italian had finished purging himself of the frothy, reddish mixture of bleach, blood, and oatmeal, he coughed a few times before addressing the Spaniard weakly from his place on the cool bathroom floor.
"Leave...now...I'm fine...just *cough*... GO," he managed to breathe out heavily between his gasping for air and coughing up what he assumed were either remnants of his lungs or chunky bits of breakfast. But Antonio can't leave. He can't look away. He can't move. And he doesn't know what to do as he watches his young friend drown. The room spun quickly before Romano blacked out and slumped to the floor. Before his mind went dark, he could hear someone shouting for an ambulance and his brother crying in the background as Antonio rushed over to lift him off the cold, unforgiving bathroom tiles.

End chapter 1