Hi hi hi~! Hello everyone~!
Sorry for not updating almost immediately. I got lazy xD
Okay, before everything else, I would just like to thank every single one of you who pressed the favorite and follow button on 'Dear Journal' and also the author (which is moi~ xD). It really warms my heart to read all the reviews all of you give me.
I know the last chapter was pretty.. unsatisfying and I'm not sure about his one, tbh.
Well, without further a do~
I do not own Hetalia.
Chapter 6:
Scars
"Dear Journal,
The other Nations picked on me again. Why do they do that to me, Journal? I don't understand! Do they see me as weak? I'm not weak! I'm just.. I just don't want to fight anymore.
Years of living with my Nonno Roma made me see all the bad things that happen in life. Violence, death, bloodshed.. I've seen it all. Gladiators killing the innocent.. It's horrible. And being Rome's eldest grandchild, I just had to become one, myself.
So am I really weak? I don't think so. For decades, I've wielded a Roman gladius for Dio's sake. I could easily chop off those assholes' heads but being the nice (half) Nation that I am, I choose not to.
From the gladius to guns. Si, guns. The Mafia is mine, no? I have to know how to use the blasted firearms. I don't have to like it, though.
Darker side of Italy. Yes, that's what I am. I'm the darker side.
And you can bet that I'm the stronger side as well.
End.
-o0o-
It's been a week since Lovino's been discharged from the hospital. He had been given different types of anti-depressants and was given the choice of counseling (which he abruptly refused, mind you) and was pretty much able to work.
He really didn't mind work, as long as he wasn't forced and yelled at. He almost met the deadlines his bosses gave him and sometimes, he even passed documents ahead of schedule even if he's also the one that does Veneziano's paperwork.
Even if it is so, Romano's boss is a bit apprehensive in sending the recovering (half) Nation to the upcoming World Meeting which is to be held in Helsinki, Finland. He tried to dissuade him from going but the Italian was firm in his decision.
"I'll go," he said as he straightened his tie. "I'm not a weakling. I don't need any special treatment." Argument end.
At the Meeting, however, the Italian was drumming his fingers on the table, not really listening to America blabber about the world wide problem of hunger and how it can be solved by the mass production of McDonald's burgers.
Spain was watching him constantly; trying to see if the shorter male was in pain or discomfort. It wasn't just the Spanish Nation, oh no. Veneziano was also giving his elder brother a few worried glances every few minutes.
"Ve, Germany," he would sometimes tug at the German's sleeve. "Are you sure that fratello's alright?" And Germany would only grunt and give the Southern Italian a glance. "He's stronger than you think," he would murmur to his ear.
That would satisfy the Italian for a few minutes before he would once again, ask him the same question.
An hour passed and Lovino was getting jittery. He didn't know if it was the medication or just his hate for these stupid fuckwits. Hn, what about both?
It didn't take long for Antonio to finally notice (shocker). He reached his hand under the table and held the shorter male's hand. Lovino's face flushed a little but he didn't make a move to remove the Spaniard's hand.
Greece was watching them, not with contempt, but with approval. He was glad that Spain was there to comfort his brother when he needed it.
America seemed to sense that not a lot of people were listening to him. He looked around and frowned when he saw that the attentions of the others were on South Italy and he wasn't happy about it. "Hey Mafia-dude."
Lovino's head whipped up as he glared at the American. "What?"
"Would you stop attracting attention? It's annoying."
"Alfred!" England stood up and immediately smacked the blonde's head with his documents. "You don't know what you're saying!"
The bespectacled man frowned and rubbed his head. "Why are you defending him? He's just cutting for attention, right?"
The tension inside the room was so thick that one would need a chainsaw to cut through it. Canada, France, England, and the other nations faces were shell-shocked as they stared at the practically oblivious American.
"Vino—" Greece started to say.
"Fuck off." Lovino clenched his fists before picking up his suitcase and storming out, closing the large wooden doors with a loud bang.
Silence engulfed the room. England was glaring hard at his former charge and Spain had a murderous aura surrounding him.
"That was bad, daze," Korea said as he folded his arms over his chest.
The countries surrounding him nodded in response.
"That was very rude of you, America-san." Japan's usually stoic face showed a little tinge of shame for his friend.
"What's wrong? It's not like he's really planning to kill himself, right? Nobody would be stupid enough to go and try to kill themselves, right? Suicide's just a stupid subject!" The American did his best to try and defend himself but he really didn't have much of a clue as to why his friends were upset with him.
"Suicide is not a 'stupid' subject, głupcze (you fool)."
Faces were turned and stared hard as Poland, who spoke without his usual valley-girl accent, clench his battle-worn hands. The Pole's emerald eyes were hard as they glared at the American.
"Only you would say something as foolish as that." He stood up and stood erect, his arms folded over his chest. His usually vibrant eyes were steely as they probed the American. "You wouldn't understand what he would feel because you're just someone that's used to having whatever you want. You're.. You're just a spoiled brat!"
And nobody had the nerve to chastise him, not even Lithuania, since they all thought the same.
"You wouldn't know how much it hurts to be ignored or be second-best because you're always in the spotlight! And cutting isn't something that people use to gain attention. Cutting hurts and it's emotionally scarring! But can we stop? We can't!"
"'We'?" America repeated.
The Pole's eyes widened, not really intending for it to slip. But instead of slipping into a fit of cowardice, he bit his lip and rolled his sleeve and showed the blonde the healing scars on his wrists.
"I'm a cutter."
A few gasps were heard and America's mouth hung agape. "Y.. Y-you're.."
"I'm a cutter."
America turned his head around and his eyes widened in horror.
"M-mattie?"
The said Canadian stared hard at the table, his eyes dark and devoid of emotion. Without saying another word, he rolled up his sleeves and showed everyone his fading scars.
"Oh mon petite Matthieu!" France covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he held on to England who was staring at everything in silence.
"I'm a cutter." France's eyes gasped as he stared hard at England. "N-non.. Why?!"
"It just hurts too much.."
Canada looked away and bit his lower lip. "It's hard.."
Poland, Canada, and England stayed silent for a few moments before Poland raised his head to look at the American.
"Do you see now, Alfred?" Poland asked, using his real name to make a point. "Is 'suicide' and 'cutting' stupid?"
The subject was dropped almost immediately.
Sorry for making America as a jerk here! Though it wasn't really intended. I wrote him being oblivious about the subject and not really intending to hurt Lovi here.
And before you say bad things about me or to the chapter, I really think that suicide is a serious matter and should be given attention by everyone. A lot of people are going through it, me being one of them. I was a cutter before so I know how it feels.
I know that this subject is touchy but I seriously hope that you guys (being mature individuals) understand.
Flames will be given to Sweden so use in his fireplace.
~AVR
