She had not looked back when she left.
He couldn't fathom why he had snapped. He had faded into the shadow of having someone with him again. The memories hurt. That outstretched hand by the one person he had trusted, turn to grasp his. That comforting hand on his shoulder whenever he was down.
He had just replaced her image with England's for the shortest moment and she was now gone. He had told her to not look back, she wouldn't see him crying like she would undoubtedly be. That tough façade she put up in front of everyone was really just to deal with the idiots that harassed her. Prussia. Turkey. Them. And now he had added himself to the list. He clutched his head in his hands, recalling the fright in her eyes and remembered taking pleasure in her fear.
He was despicable. He knew it. He weighed the revolver in his hand, jokingly placing it to his temple, miming the action he knew he would never be strong enough to actually do. She'd been there, a caring glance thrown his way, despite his protests that he was all right.
He hadn't been. With her love, he once again became strong. Now she was gone.
The message sunk into his brain.
Hungary was gone. It was all because of him.
America clutched the gun in his hand and tried to tell himself his heart wasn't breaking.
No use though. He had never been good at lying to himself.
In a burst of adrenaline, he pulled the trigger.
Blackness.
Perfect.
-O,O Dark.-
I'm sorry this was so dark. I just was listening to some sad songs, and this paring popped up. Hope you enjoyed it, no matter how dark it was. Please review if you want to!
Hasta la Pasta!