A/N: ***PLEASE READ*** Okay, I'll come right out and say it; there will be self-harm in this chapter. Long chapter alert! And a little background knowledge that I couldn't really fit into the story: Germany knows Italy used to cut. He stopped shortly before him and Germany were together. Romano told Germany about it without Italy's knowing. *insert standard Hetalia angst disclaimers here* I don't own Hetalia; I just borrow the characters and play with them. Don't worry. I give them back.
*At France's House*
Prussia and Germany rode in the same car for reasons unknown. Germany did know however, that his head was now pounding. The two walked in and were greeted by France.
France led them to the kitchen and Germany knew exactly what France had planned. A drinking game.
"I'm out," Germany said, turning towards the door.
"No you're not! You said you wouldn't let Italy help! And anyways, don't you want to see who can hold their alcohol better?" Prussia was just provoking Germany, but Germany let his competitiveness get the best of him.
"Fine. How do we play?"
France grinned. "I'll pour two shots. One for each of you. Go until one passes out."
"What is the point of this?"
"Prussia wants to know how many he can go. I need to keep track and we would have Spain but he's with Romano. And obviously Italy is out of the question. The competition, before you ask, makes it fun and easy to measure."
"So you did know?" Germany turned to Prussia.
"Whoops."
"Well…I guess it can't hurt. Fine." And with that, the game began.
*At Germany's House*
Italy was stirring some spaghetti, the special pasta again waiting to be made. Germany was with France and Prussia yet again. But he's a responsible country. And he didn't have a reason to get hammered again, so it was alright! Italy sighed; he was alone again in this big house. Usually he wouldn't mind, but today is different. Something feels off about today.
Italy turned off the stove, and filled a plate with spaghetti. He poured himself a glass of wine and for once, ate quietly.
*At France's House*
"Of all the people you could have gotten drunk!" France was hiding behind the couch from Germany, who was currently flinging silverware at a swaying Prussia.
"Just *hic* get him to the car! Italy will *hic* get him calmed down!" Prussia responded to France.
"Good idea!" France manned up long enough to grab Germany from behind and drag him out the door.
"Am I coming *hic* too?" Prussia shouted out the back door, leaning on the frame.
"No! I do not need two drunken Germans in my car!" France yelled back, slamming his door. He turned the car on and drove off.
*At Germany's House*
A knock at the door had awoken Italy. He got off the couch and opened the door to see France struggling with Germany.
"Here…take him. I don't know which of them won…but I don't need to deal with both of them drunk!" France exclaimed as he handed a drunken Germany to a confused Italy.
"Alright. Thanks for bringing him home!" France nodded to Italy and got in his car. Italy shut the door.
"Get upstairs," Germany growled. Italy quickly and fearfully complied. Italy stood in the kitchen, not knowing what to do. Germany entered the kitchen and cornered Italy. Italy started to tear up again.
"Are you crying again?"
"I'm sorry! I can't help it! You're scaring me Doitsu!" Italy said in between sobs.
"Is that really why?"
"Yes!"
Germany seemed unsatisfied with this response. He reached around Italy, grabbed a knife from the rack, and slammed it into the counter next to Italy. Italy jumped and began to cry harder.
"Doitsu! Please!"
"Go ahead. Cut. You know you want to as much as I know you want to."
"Germany…you should go sleep this off."
"No! I'm not leaving this spot and neither are you until I see you bleed!" the German bellowed. Italy gave in. He pulled the knife out of the counter, pulled up his left sleeve, and dug the blade into his wrist. Blood slowly started to flow out. It hurt, but Italy embraced the long missed feeling. He didn't mind the pain at all. He knew Germany only wanted to see him bleed since he had already walked away. He wore an insane grin.
But he couldn't stop. He kept digging the knife into his skin, enjoying the bite of his long awaited relapse. No. This wasn't a relapse. It was much more. It was like being reunited with a deeply missed friend and handcuffing himself to them. But instead of losing the key, there was never a key to start with.
Italy was too busy grinning at the blade in his wrist and the blood dripping out to hear the door open and someone walk up the stairs.
"Fratello!" Italy jumped at Romano's voice. Romano took the knife out of Italy's hand, threw it in the sink, knelt by Italy, and held his brother's bleeding wrist. "Feli…I thought you stopped. Why would you do this?" Romano asked sadly as he held Italy. Germany walked in on this scene, sensing an intruder in his house. "POTATO BASTARD! Why didn't you stop him? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH Y-" Romano had received a solid punch to the face from Germany.
"Romano!" Italy went to his brother, insane grin faded.
"Italy, go clean up." Romano said as he got up. Italy went into the bathroom upstairs.
Italy could hear the two fighting from the bathroom. He sat leaning against the tub digging his nails into the cuts. He could feel unconsciousness starting to sweep over him.
*Downstairs*
Romano had been knocked out by an overly aggressive Germany. At this, Germany retreated to the couch and fell asleep.
*In The Morning*
Germany woke up once again with a monster hangover. "I'm never drinking again…" he said as he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He tripped. "The hell?" he looked down and saw Romano and a small puddle and trail of blood leading upstairs. Germany ran, following the trail to the upstairs bathroom and gasped at what he saw. Italy was passed out on the bathroom floor covered in his own blood. "Italy!" Germany took Italy into his arms and noticed the source of his bleeding. He had been cutting again. Germany grabbed some gauze from a shelf and began to wrap Italy's wounds. Germany looked up to see Romano leaning in the doorway.
"You did that to him."
Germany was taken aback by Romano's comment. Why would he do this to Italy? "I would never do this to him."
"Completely hammered you would. You also gave him the bruise and the burn."
"How did you know about the burn?"
"He called and asked how to make it stop hurting this morning."
"Italy…I'm sorry Romano."
"Don't apologize to me. I would kick your ass anyways. I'd better get back before tomato bastard starts calling people though."
Germany stood up, Italy in arms, and went to their room soon after Romano left.
Germany changed Italy into clean clothes and felt a pang of guilt as he again looked at the burn. He put Italy under the covers and climbed in next to him.
A/N: So…how was it? I'd love some reviews. Wonder what's going to happen next chapter? So do I. I shall have to sit here with a cat until I get a flood of ideas into my brain for you to read.
