Obsession
A Hetalia story.
Chapter Ten: Rain
"We have to go…" Toris whispers.
He isn't sure how it feels like to lose the two people he cares most about in the world. It feels… empty. Is he this horrible of a brother, to not even feel like crying, when he did with Alfred? He couldn't dwell. Doesn't want to dwell. Doesn't want to think that his brothers burned to death.
"Let's go then." Feliks gently tugs the Lithuanian's arm, digging him out from the land he had trapped himself in with such loving eyes. The two of them go outside and make a mad dash for the hospital, the storm rumbling like an angry lion behind them.
Finally, the clouds splits open, pouring its sweet nectar onto the earth, but it doesn't wash anything away like Toris had hoped. Instead, it opens up an ugly scar on his heart, one that would never heal.
It doesn't take long for the weather to swamp their surroundings and slow them down.
"This way!" Feliks pulls his along, taking a shortcut through a small forested area, where the trees had been cut away. They could see the hospital on the hill beyond.
Please be okay... please… Toris begs internally, needing to see them alive for the sake of his sanity.
He has to see the rest of the team.
Ivan couldn't take them too.
He just couldn't.
The rain easily subdues the land beneath their feet into a swamp. It is hard to trudge through the mud, but the manager does it anyway, until his foot twists beneath his and he falls right into the sludge.
"Toris!" Feliks quickly kneels at his side, trying to help him get to his feet.
The thought passes Toris's mind to give up. To give up and just lay there. But he couldn't. He couldn't let Ivan take everything from him. So, with a little coaxing from the cheerleader, he finally clambers to his feet; but his next step nearly sends him into the mud again.
"Here lean on me." He takes the manager's arm, pulling it around his own shoulder to take some of the weight. On another day, the Lithuanian would be a heavy blushing mess; but not today.
"We have to hurry..." Toris couldn't advert his eyes from the sight of the hospital as he takes his second, limping step.
"I know… I know and we'll get there." Feliks voice is so soothing. It helps to mend him, even if it is only just to a little, to feel the tender touch of someone who cares.
They move on like this for a little ways, briefly stopping for Toris to keep his breath before they continue trudging along. It appears like they would reach the hospital in the next ten minutes or so, when through the rain, a pair of lights cut through the haze.
For a brief and fleeting moment, Toris had hoped it is the team, searching for him and Feliks. Of course, fleeting is an understatement, because within the next second he dismisses it. It is not the team.
It is Ivan.
Just like the night he took Alfred.
Feliks tries to pull Toris into the trees, but the manager would not move; only keeps walking closer until the truck becomes a definite outline, and he sees Ivan's smiling face through the window.
The man that took his best friend.
The man who took his brothers.
His stalker.
His back throbs at the thought.
"Toris we have to move!" Feliks pleads, but the Lithuanian just stares down the eyes of the beast when Ivan revved the engine, feeling nothing but his broken heart convulsing beneath his chest.
He is going to try to run over them again. Toris would accept it.
Ivan's wheels sputter when he nails the gas, spitting up mud into the air and whipping the back of his truck as he speeds towards them. If Toris closes his eyes, he can see the parking lot, only there was none and Alfred isn't there to sacrifice himself.
That is okay.
He watches at the truck comes closer, gaining momentum.
But then they come anyway.
When Toris blinks, the Rebels are in front of him with the intent to protect, cracking their knuckles. They really had searched for the manager and Feliks, and now they found him—with a car speeding towards them.
"We're going to protect you Toris. For Alfred." Mathias says, smacking his fist against his palm.
Gilbert taps his brother's shoulder. "Do it bruder."
In Ludwig's hands is a gun. They are going to die, Ludwig couldn't stop a truck with a gun. That's what the manager thought anyway, when he aims low and pulls the trigger, and one of Ivan's tires explodes into strips of useless rubber. The lack of traction robs the control from his vehicle, tossing it to its side until the mud finally cushions its slide to a stop.
The Rebels issue a cheer, patting Ludwig's back with triumphant smirks.
But Toris knows it isn't over.
Busting a window open, Ivan peeks out the cab with a loaded gun, nailing Ludwig in the head before crawling out and behind his truck for protection. The blond drops like a rain drop, crumbling to the ground, his head hitting the mud so Toris could see exactly where he is shot.
Right between the eyes. He is dead.
"You have to go... you have to go right not..." Toris whimpers; but of course they don't hear him as Ludwig's dead eyes stare up at him, making him tremble, reminding him Alfred, and Eduard, and Raivis. Ludwig is just another face among them.
Gilbert simply stops moving.
"HEY!"
Mathias charges the truck, ignoring Toris's next scream for him to stop. Ivan glances around the corner just as the goalkeeper jumps and hooks his arms around his neck, whipping around and landing on his back. The Russian tries to dislodge him, stumbling and attempting to shake him from his back as he makes his way around the truck. Relentless, Mathias holds on, nailing his cast right in Ivan's Adam's apple. It appears the Russian would go down.
Only, he didn't.
Furious, Ivan fingers latch onto Mathias's spike hair, yanking him far enough over his shoulders that he could pound his head into the truck.
Slowly, the manager sinks to his knees. "Please... stop… stop…"
He couldn't swallow the scene before him; he tries to crawl quickly towards them, but he doesn't make it in time to catch Berwald's leg as he moves to aid Mathias. Just as Ivan slams the goalkeeper's head one more time, the blond snatches up his arm, and with his own strength, manages to twist and effectively break it.
Ivan howls and casts Mathias limp body into Berwald, knocking them both into the ground. He picks up the gun he dropped in the struggle, and holding the broken arm close to his stomach, shoots Berwald in the head at blank point.
Toris is struggling to even breath, pushing himself back out of the mud.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald.
No.
The manager is nearly scared half to death when Gilbert finally comes to life, roaring angrily at his stalker. He whips out his own gun, approaching the Russian without a care for his own life, firing repeatedly into Ivan's torso.
He could have landed the finishing blow; if he hadn't of run out of bullets in his carelessness.
Toris watches in horror as Ivan returns the fire, more accurate than the albino had been, shooting him straight through the throat. He observes him stand there, reach a hand up; he hears the gurgling of him choking on his own blood, before he collapses.
Toris lets out nothing short of a scream.
"Damn... so… persistent…" Ivan huffs, still managing to stand after the damage he took, but it is beginning to take its toll.
"Toris we have to run!" Toris would not move, not even for Feliks. How could he, after what he just witnessed?
How can he, when Lars still remains standing, his arms held out, the last remaining defense to protect Toris?
The manager glances back at Ivan, who breathes heavily, checking the clip in his gun. He tsks and tosses it aside. He is empty too. But it isn't over.
Ivan still approaches the hockey player without fear in his eyes as Lars slowly lowers his hands. It seems like the Russian would just fall over at Lars feet, and the Dutch man buys it—but right before he tumbles to the floor, the stalker removes a knife he had kept hidden and slit Lars's belly clean open, shoving him to the ground.
He spits on him. "Stupid…" He sneers, nudging the wound with his foot. "Should have… stayed out of the way…"
Even Lars is done. All the Rebels were defeated by one man.
Toris's stalker.
Feliks is still trying to get him to his feet, pulling desperately on the manager's arm. "Please! Toris!"
He has to make sure the others are okay. They are okay right? They all couldn't be dead. They just couldn't be dead.
Finally free of any unnecessary people, Ivan drops to his knees, searching for something in the mud. Toris numbly watches him, basically ignoring the cheerleader at his side.
"Why don't… you just leave." Toris states, trying not to feel, knowing feeling would make him hurt so much worse than the beating to his back.
Feliks's eyes harden. "I can't leave you."
There is a part of his heart, the part that remains untouched that melts a little. But now is not the time to be sentimental. He couldn't lose Feliks too.
"It'll be safer…"
The cheerleader hugs his arm, squeezing the words from him. "I'm not leaving you behind Toris. We are going to do this together. Because I know I love you."
He is terrified, Toris could tell, but there was a resolve in his eyes that would not be broken. He wishes he could say it back, to help reassure him just a little.
But he just couldn't.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. Would he end up like them?
"Ah-ha..." Ivan wretches what he is looking for from the suction of the mud, as if he just found the plate he wanted to serve dinner on. "This... will do."
It is Ludwig's gun.
Slowly, he climbs back to his feet, but he is out of breath already. His wounds have stained his shirt red, and his arm looks like a twisted mess guarding his stomach. A true monster, in his true form, the form that stalked Toris just because he gave him a hand up and expected something in return.
Ivan continues his way toward them, stumbling a little, but determined to reach them no matter what it took. He almost looks… broken. Just like Toris.
"If…If I can't have you Tori…" His sentence is punctuated with a sharp cough that draw a blood colored stain to his lips. "No… no one will…"
He is straining. Raising his arm and walking at the same time is too much for his body to process; so instead, he resorts to stopping, and lifts his good arm up, pointing the pistol at him with the grin of a stranger.
"So… good-bye... Toris Laurinaitis…"
Toris is okay with dying.
But Feliks isn't.
When Ivan fires the fatal bullet, the cheerleader dives before it just in time, his back accepting it, the exit wound splattering Toris with blood. In an instant, like a snap of the fingers, the green eyes suddenly seem so… lost.
Feliks slumps into his arms and the manager knows.
The manager knows he is dead.
The chest pressed to his is leaking fatal blood, and all Toris can do is cradle that blond head, his mind not comprehending what just happening.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. But not Feliks. No, not Feliks.
The injuries finally taking their toll, Ivan collapses to the ground. It is over. But it isn't over for Toris.
Gently lowers Feliks to the ground, he slowly crawls over to the closest person, unable to get up and walk like a normal human, the rain stinging his eyes and hiding the whimpers in his throat.
He passes by Ludwig, knowing there is no hope for him. He comes upon Lars next, his gut open for the world to see, blood escaping out his mouth. Sweet, sweet Lars. Dead. He swallows and moves on. They couldn't all be dead.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. Lars.
He makes it over to the overturned truck and to Mathias in Berwald's arm. His forehead had caved in, his blue eyes staring blankly at the mourning sky. Brave Mathias. Dead.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. Lars. Mathias.
This is the last test.
Shuffling back over to Feliks, he presses his ear to his chest, feeling the blood seep in his hair as he listens.
Nothing. There is nothing to be heard.
They are all dead.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. Lars. Mathias. Feliks.
Ivan killed them all. Just like he wanted.
And finally, Toris feels a real emotion trickle into his body. Anger. Anger forces him to his feet. Anger picks up an empty gun. Anger waltz him over to Ivan's smiling face, drops him to his knees, and pounds the butt of the gun into that head. Everything, everything is gone, and the Anger knows that. Each hit is for one of those names, those people taken too soon because Toris couldn't do anything right.
"Sometimes, bad things happen to good people."
Alfred's words are enough to break the last part of him. He wails into the storm, his hands stilling, knowing Ivan is dead from the force he used to destroy his skull. He wails for his best friend, his family, the Rebels. He wails for his first love, his first life, his first death.
He rears his head back and screams for a long time, until he pauses long enough to feel the rain dribble down his face. He wants to question the Gods hiding behind those clouds, ask them how could they do this, when he realizes something.
Vash.
They aren't all gone. There is Vash.
Slowly he stands up.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. Lars. Mathias. Feliks. But not Vash. He is still at the hospital.
The rain seeps through his clothes, but couldn't touch the broken fragments of his heart as he slowly limps towards the hospital. Almost everything was taken from him. Almost...
"Or at least… that's what I convinced myself. I walked by the station before I made it to the hospital. I thought…" Toris pauses in his tale, trying to breathe. But he couldn't breathe anymore. "I would do it. For them. They wouldn't let me talk to someone… until late."
The cop knows that is the end of his tale. The tale of Toris Laurinaitis, the kind boy who had everything horrible happened to him.
"So... Ivan's dead…"
The Lithuanian regards him with those froze eyes once again. "Yes. Dead like them."
The veteran couldn't believe he lost everyone. Wait. Not everyone.
"You said… Vash was at the hospital correct?"
Toris nods slowly, as a small frown captures his lips. He had been in the patrol car, making the call to the hospital. They told a different story.
"His name… was Vash Zwingli, correct?" His asks softly.
The manager strangely laughs at that. "Yes... but you said it wrong… not that it matters."
The officer isn't sure how to approach this, how to approach him after everything. But he couldn't lie to the kid's face. Not after everything.
Inhaling softly, he looks Toris in the eye. "He... died in a house fire. If your story matches up, he must have been trying to save your brothers."
The Lithuanian finds new appeal in the ceiling, as if he could stare up at it and remember those infant rain clouds before the storm, before everything was stolen away from him.
His response is simple. "I know."
The cop raises an eyebrow. "How…"
Tilting his head a little, the strange man closes his eyes, remembering each of their faces.
Alfred. Eduard. Raivis. Ludwig. Berwald. Gilbert. Lars. Mathias. Feliks. Vash.
"I trusted a stranger's face. Some generosities are too good to be true. I lost everything when I quietly accepted that I was the object of someone's obsession." There is a soft, almost heartbroken chuckle that catches the officer off guard. "The rain… the rain can't wash that away."
No, it couldn't.
Thank you so much for reading my story, Obsession. *Bows* I hope you enjoy.
If you would like to have me write and epilogue, leave a review.
If you think you are a victim of stalking, do not stay silent. Contact an officer and alert your family. Do not think you can handle it by yourself. You need to talk to people.
-Soul Spirit-