Something to note: Most of the micronations don't have canon names so I used fanon names. (Seborga- Sebastian, Peter- Sealand, Wendy- Wy, Sean- Molossia, Leopold- Kugelmugel, Hudson- Hutt River, Riku- Nikoniko) I hope you like this!
Guilt
Chapter 2
Seborga's P.O.V.
Guilt. Such a terrible word. A word that cut so deep and spilled once-innocent blood. A word that implied deep pain, implied some sort of great loss that caused it, required the sort of patronizing pity filled with this kindness, a steely mask covering any trace of true emotion.
Guilt. A word that perfectly described how Sebastian was feeling.
It had been months since Lovino's death, and that feeling had still remained.
Of course it did. It was only natural.
Because, after all, his brother had died and Sebastian wasn't even there. He hadn't even found out about Lovino's state until Feliciano and Antonio had sent out a group text to everyone, in tears, saying that Lovino had attempted suicide and they were at a small hospital, but he probably wouldn't make it. He'd died of blood loss and his injuries no more than an hour later.
Sebastian hadn't even gotten to see his brother one last time, let alone talk to him.
He'd run from his house to the nearest airport immediately after receiving the message, but he wasn't quick enough.
He had arrived minutes after Lovino was pronounced dead, panicking and wanting to cry, to a sterile, bland hospital room containing his brother's dead body, a flatlining heart monitor, and Feliciano, clinging to his brother's dead body gone limp, and screaming, screaming for him to wake up, this had to be a nightmare, this couldn't possibly be happening. Doctors tried to pry him off, but he wouldn't be deterred, and refused to let go, all the while Antonio had sat in a corner, twitching and softly crying to himself.
Ludwig and Kiku had been there too, looking like they had seen a ghost. They might as well have had. Feliciano was a ghost of himself, a mess of snotty emotions and tears and screams. Feliciano, no matter how sad, never lashed out like this, screaming, crying, swearing, and shaking. In the end, the doctors had to sedate him, so they could remove Lovino's corpse and transport it to the morgue. Feliciano had collapsed to the ground and Ludwig and Kiku rushed forward to catch and comfort him.
Later, they all had regretted letting the doctors tranquilize him. Ever since that outburst, Feliciano had shown little to none emotion.
He had become tersely, laconically, stoically numb.
During all of this, Antonio had just sat there, twitching, shaking, and softly crying.
Francis and Gilbert had shown up minutes later.
During all of this, Sebastian had stood there, shaking, with his hand clasped to his mouth in openmouthed, abject horror, as if to keep himself from screaming.
No.
No.
No.
This is just some sick joke, right?
There's no way this could be happening.
Don't leave us!
Francis, Gilbert, Ludwig, and Kiku had quietly, mournfully, conversed for a moment, and upon deciding on what to do, flagged down a taxi, and dragged us down to the Italian World Meeting Hall. They had sent out a blast message to everyone, saying that Lovino was dead, and we were all to meet up.
Quickly, everyone had started showing up.
First, Elizaveta and Roderich, then Lili and Vasch, followed by Lucille, then Arthur, Ivan, and Heracles... bit by bit, over the course of several hours, all of the personifications had shown up, some quiet and numb with shock, some crying, and some trying to comfort their friends.
But all Sebastian could recall is the onrushing, absolutely crushing feeling of guilt.
No!
I'm sorry, Feli!
This can't be happening...
I was too late.
After that meet-up, and later, after the funeral, the micronations had all holed up together, in Sebastian's house, their unspoken, silent, reason being to keep an eye on Sebastian.
To reach him.
Because, during all of this, he couldn't shed a tear.
Guilt had made him numb.
He wanted to cry and scream, but his tears and his voice and his will just weren't there.
So he'd content himself with curling up in a ball, shaking, quietly rocking himself, with his friends nearby, always nearby.
Always guilty. Swamped with guilt.
Peter, Wendy, Sean, Leopold, Hudson, and even Riku had all tried their hand at reaching him, but no luck.
He was unreachable.
Untouchable.
Unapproachable.
He had been made sullen by guilt.
It was consuming, suffocating, smothering.
For all his friends knew, he was a completely different person.
But that's normal.
That's just what guilt does to a person.
Sorry. Just sorry. Also, thanks to awesome people who have reviewed/favorited my stories, it means a lot.
And something I probably should have said earlier, for those of you suffering from depression and considering suicide, don't do it. I guarentee you, you are loved, people do care for you, even if you don't see it, and there will be plenty of people who would be incredibly sad if you died. Don't do it. Suicide is not a good option. I promise you, things will get better. I promise. (Slightly sad change of topic, but it needed to be said. You are loved. There will always be someone out there who loves you and would be sad if you died.)