Traitor.

Scoundrel.

Dishonorable wretch.

Liar.

Murderer.

Monster.

Japan can't help but flinch at the last one. It was all too familiar to him.

No! He's in the wrong this time, we trusted him, and he only pretended to be our friend! After all we've been through, you'd think he'd owe it to us to at least tell us before!

But hadn't he finally done so?

This isn't something that can just be forgiven! The whole time we were next to him, he was ready to put a gun to our heads!

He had treated everyone like that though. He'd even made some death threats at Italy, though at the time they hadn't seemed serious.

He lied. He betrayed us.

But hadn't Japan done the same? China's back still held the scar, like a symbol of the gash left in their friendship.*

Japan rolls over on the sheets, staring through the darkness of his room.

He and Germany had both had their good reputations smashed by the world war, and while it had been a major struggle to recover, even with the western nations' help, Germany had faced far worse from it and still felt the word Nazi being used against him. He really did only have Japan and Italy as friends, and this was unlikely to change as everyone else seemed to still have some faint grudge against him.

Because he had tried to kill them. And now that we know that he planned to kill us as well, does that mean we should stop trusting him too? No one could blame us for it... But then we'd be just like everyone else.

He had known how likely it was for them to pull away.

It had only been natural for him to be reluctant.

And yet, Japan still found himself angry and disdainful towards the German. As much as he wanted to forgive him and move on... He couldn't. This was huge. He couldn't just forget it.

My people... As labrats. The thought makes him want to throw up. That humiliation and pain they would have suffered, that I would have suffered, would have never been forgiven had it been dealt. I would have hated Germany more than anything... I could hate him as much as I wanted, though, and nothing would change. I would receive no outside assistance, because everyone would be dead... And I would have been a major cause of that. It would be my own foolish fault for going along with his plans, and it would result in my fall. I would crumble and break at his feet... Then die seen as less than human.

... But... That's who he was. He's changed since... Hasn't he?

Should I let sleeping dogs lie? Or will I be caught out as the fool again for trusting him?

With a sigh, he curls on his side.

Had Germany even apologized?

-.;

The smell of it was so good.

It was warm and freshly made, and normally Italy would have devoured it without hesitation.

Right now though, he twirls around the long strands on his fork with a distant frown etched on his face.

The pasta was so unappetizing at the moment, that the smell actually made him nauseous. With a sigh, he drops his fork and scoots his chair away from the table.

"Aren't you gonna finish that?" Romano asks.

"No...," Italy mumbles and stares absently through the window.

Pasta isn't the same without all the good memories. It always made me smile, because I could remember all the happy times, like when I would make it for Germany and Japan.

I'd remember when Japan would always slurp his noodles so loudly. He told me it was a compliment towards the chef, plus it cooled the noodles and made them taste better.

Me and Japan would always see who could slurp the loudest after that, and Germany had such a funny face. He made funny faces a lot. Though it wasn't so funny when he found out what a mess slurping made. We had to slurp outside after that. Germany tried doing it too once, but he choked on the noodles.

I'd remember when Germany tried making pasta when I was sick once. The result reminded me of England's cooking, so Germany had to call Romano and Spain. Things got a bit crazy then, but I did eventually get pasta. That made me laugh.

There were a lot of good times I'd remember... And I'd feel so happy...

He sighs softly to himself. Now all those happy memories were ruined. The pasta tasted just as fake as the memories felt, and the noodles felt like rubber.

Romano frowns suspiciously. "Are you thinking about that potato-freak again? Cuz if you are, stop it!"

Italy sighs again disheartedly. Now not only was Japan angry at Germany, but Romano was too. Sure, he'd always disliked him, but since finding his brother in his room crying and forcing him to tell who had upset him, Romano had become especially hateful towards the militaristic country.

Italy couldn't even defend Germany without giving away what had been revealed. Heaven knows what Romano would do if he heard that Germany had never really been...

Italy's eyes suddenly water and he starts to sniffle again.

"Not again dangit! Quit whimpering over that jerk would you?! He hurt you didn't he?!" Romano snaps. "That potato-freaking-moron isn't your friend Veneziano!"

Those words, the ones that he'd tries so hard to avoid, the ones that had just tumbled from Romano's mouth, struck him harder than anything and Italy suddenly erupts into full-blown wailing and sobbing.

"H-hey! I didn't mean-! Ah, dangit now I made you cry too!" Romano says, looking upset with himself.

Italy stumbles quickly back to his room, tripping over corners and misplaced object as he struggles to blink through tears.

All he wanted was his best friend back... But Italy wasn't sure he was ever there.

-.;

He knew some people drank away their sorrows.

Whenever he and Pussia did it though, it was usually just for fun, to relax from the stress of daily life.

Germany had never drank while feeling depressed before, not even during the wars. Prussia had always said sad memories ruined the taste of beer, so you either drank while happy, or your drank while sad. Mixing the two would confuse your taste buds. Germany was sure there was more meaning to it than that, what with Prussia's warring history, but his bruder had never told him.

He had obeyed the rule anyways, and never before had he taken a sip while sad.

Maybe that was why he was hesitating now.

He ran his fingers over the glass now, the copper colored beverage more than halfway filling the cup.

He could drink some. Just a few sips to take the edge off it. Just enough to be too foggy to grieve over losing the only friends he had ever known.

Except... He felt like he deserved it. He deserved every pain wracking his chest and more.

What kind of person vows to kill his best friends? What kind of person lies to them for years, hiding the secret like some plot? It made him feel even worse, like he hadn't ever given up the plan to slit their throats in the most inhumane of ways. Like there was still some darker side to him clinging to Nazi ideals.

Inhuman. That's right.

He was a monster.

A monster just like the allies had said after claiming victory.

A monster, just like how the world would remember his nation's crimes for an eternity. What foreign child with some historical knowledge didn't hear the name Germany and think of swatzticas?

He was the bad example, the one other nations looked to when nearing "the line".

Don't do that, you'll be like Germany.

Don't say that, you sound like a Nazi.

Don't kill them, you'll look like Hitler.

He would never be forgiven for his crimes against humanity. And now he wouldn't be forgiven for his crimes against his friends.

The slippery surface of the glass slides from his fingers and a loud CRASH resonates through the empty kitchen.

Germany leans down over his legs and fold his arms to cover his face. The overwhelming despair was threatening him as it hadn't since World War II was lost.

Italy had deserted him then. Japan had accepted the support of the very person who had destroyed him. They had both left him, abandoned him to struggle hopelessly through a loosing battle all alone.

And now he was alone once again.

Of course they wouldn't forgive him. Who in their right mind would? Looking back, he had never given them any real reason to trust him. Through his shouting, threats, and cruelty they had had to endure. They had stayed, smiling kindly, adding color to his dull, strict life.

All Germany had done was hurt them. And now he had added the final blow.

A door slamming startles him, but he doesn't look up, not caring who it was or what they wanted. Not caring how they'd react to him crouched over on the double-step stool Prussia used to reach the highest shelves of the cupboards.

Forget it. He didn't care anymore.

"West!" The sharp voice of his bruder almost makes him angry. Germany didn't want to talk right now, and no doubt the loud Prussian would try to pull a conversation from him.

"West! If you don't come and greet your poor unloved bruder I'll drink all your beer!"

Obviously wanting attention. And, unfortunately, he wanted it specifically from Germany.

He'll become bored in a few minutes and go down to the basement, Germany thinks. As long as he doesn't look in the kitchen-

Germany cuts off the thought when he hears Prussia's boots make their way closer to said area.

"Wessst! I'm taking the leftover wurst!"

That stupid...

He hears Pussia stop when he sees Germany. "West! Why were you not answering the awesome me?!"

Then Prussia seems to realize Germany's odd position.

"Hey... West?" He calls cautiously.

"Go away," Germany mumbles flatly.

Prussia's silent for a moment, then blatantly ignores Germany's request and strides forward, kneeling on the tile next to him. "Bruder...?" He asks in an unusually soft voice.

"What?"

"... Are you alright?"

Germany sighs. "No. I am not alright. Please leave me alone so I may think."

"You seem to have done a good enough job of that already. Have fun beating yourself up?"

"Leave me alone." He orders again sternly, irritated by Prussia's sarcastic tone.

"West Germany, you will look at me right now!"

Startled by his bruder's sudden authoritive tone, the childish instinct to obey Prussia floods back for a moment and his head jerks up, leaving Germany blinking owlishly at Prussia's stern face.

"Germany, I will tell you right now that you are crud at dealing with emotional things!" Prussia's face softens slightly and he finishes, "so let your wiser awesome bruder help you before you hurt yourself, ja?"

Germany blinks hard and looks down before answering softly.

"Ja..."

Geez, sane emotional turmoil is not my strong point.

This was actually just going to be a 2 page story, but it looks like I'll have to do another page. Bummer right?

* the scar on China's back should have probably healed by now, but it still remains. Its kind of a reference to Rurouni Kenshin where its mentioned that scars made by blades don't fade until the grudge set in them is gone. Japan never really apologized to China for the Rape of Nanking, so the grudge hasn't faded.

Review, or I will make you eat rubber pasta.

Answers to past reviews:

XAbnormalxAlphax&CaPrIcOrN HoNk- Good, I was worried about it not being depressing enough. Now that I know tears were shed, I can go about my life in confidence. Thank you for that, I always worry about story quality dropping, so let me know if it happens.

Kara-hime24- I did. Are your feels OK? And yes, I have never taken a sip of the stuff. This is taking place slightly more modern-dayish, they were just looking back at the past in Japan's photo album.

Abby-Flourite- Maybe, maybe not. Depends on my mood.