Just a big fucking ball of emotion right herr.

Warning: Angst, insults, internal conflict, Spamano (one-sided kinda), Prumano, RusAme, FrUK, TurCan, and GerIta.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Still Stuck

They left the malevolent pile of tarlike goo where Arthur had thrown it up. And they made sure to make a wide circle around it whenever they walked by.

They were more than ready to leave. They could still see the smoke swirling up in the distance from the field and the whole place felt darker. Arthur looked at the tar—the residue the demon Agramon had left inside him—and felt apprehension grip him again. In all his life, he could never remember being so weak. He couldn't do anything, was a prisoner in his own mind, which scared the hell out of him. He thought magic could protect him before. But now… he also knew it could be a false ally. Francis sensed that something was troubling him, and came up beside him, taking his hand. But Arthur slapped his away.

"Wanker," he mumbled, but smiled.

But Alfred was no longer afraid to hold his lover's hand. In fact, it wasn't that he was afraid what others would think of them, but worry over Ivan's pain. Alfred knew Ivan, no matter how much Ivan told him otherwise during their spat, and he knew the Russian always hid his hurts. It wasn't his fault. It was instinctual, coming from many years of pain and neglect. He didn't understand why Ivan couldn't open up to him, though Alfred suspected it was because the man didn't want to be a bother or deemed weak.

Once again, Alfred asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Ivan was beginning to get annoyed. Alfred's concern had been cute… at first. But now that he kept mentioning it, he feared the others would hear that he was struggling to cope with his injury. "Da, I'm fine. It is just one bullet wound."

Alfred licked his lips and squeezed Ivan's hand. "You could have died."

"But I did not."

"We could never have made love," Alfred continued in a low voice.

Ivan sighed. "But we did, Alfred. Now stop mentioning it."

Alfred let go of his hand and glared at him. "Why do you have the right to be worried about every little damn thing I do and I can't be the same way with you?"

Ivan huffed. Others were starting to watch… "Alfred—"

"I love you just as much," Alfred told him. The American felt like punching him. Ivan had to let someone take care of him for once. Why wouldn't Ivan let Alfred love him like he wanted to?

Ivan looked at him. "I kno—"

"No, you don't," Alfred said firmly. "I'm going to fucking take care of you until you want to break my nose." He took Ivan's hand again. "And you're going to shut up about it."

Ivan blinked in disbelief and scoffed, but remained silent. He supposed he could let Alfred take care of him… for now. As long as it meant he got sex, then he would tolerate it.

Matthew was at the back of group and watched Ivan and Alfred with envy. Why was it always him wanting what Alfred had (except all the enemies and stupidity and pollution and fast food and… well a lot of things, but at least Alfred was seen)? Why not the other way around? It wasn't fair.

Before he could brood on it, he felt lips brush his cheek and turned to see a hooded Sadiq smiling at him. "Would it be too much to ask if I could hold your hand?"

Matthew blushed and smiled back. "No, it would be just right." And he took Sadiq's hand in his. No one looked. No one saw. Matthew was in his own private little world at the back of the group, and for once, he had someone with him.

Over dry hill and rock they went, trudging through the snow, the overcast sky offering them no refuge from the chilled air. And yet they did not travel silently; they were talking amongst themselves in small groups or in pairs, though they did not feel fit enough to share everything with the whole group.

No pair could have defined the secrecy better than Lovino and Gilbert. They walked apart, Lovino beside Feliciano and Gilbert beside Ludwig. Every once in a while, their wandering eyes would meet and Gilbert would smile at him in that annoying-ass way, and Lovino would scoff to himself but feel a surge of warmth in him he hadn't felt since, well…

Toni. Lovino's mind went to him whenever he had nothing to do or say. The man wasn't a plague anymore, but a memory—a bright, beautiful memory that Lovino wanted nothing more but to embrace. Every chance he could get he found himself telling Toni 'I love you', hoping that he would somehow hear and respond. But the man had made one visit. How many did you get when you were in heaven? One certainly wasn't enough. One was a tease, a visit that was blissful but instilled a deep longing in his heart.

Toni had been right there. So close that Lovino had felt like he could reach out and touch him. And he had even smelled like tomatoes and that cologne Lovino had told him time and again he absolutely loathed… but that had in fact attracted him immensely. Why hadn't they had enough time? It seemed as if there wasn't enough time now at all. And it had only been a month—a month out of decades—that Lovino had finally told Toni that he loved him… a month out of years of being together. That had taken a lot of effort, but when he finally said it he felt it. Right then he realized that he was completely in love with Toni and never wanted to leave him. No one had understood him until Toni, not even his own brother, and Lovino still loved him so, so much. He had accepted the fact that Toni was gone, that he was content watching over him, but that didn't keep him from still being in love with the bastard.

You're wrong, Gilbert, Lovino thought. I can't love two people at once. It's not fair. Gilbert, even though he was a stupid bastard, deserved better than that. It was like Lovino was cheating on him every time he thought about Toni. He loved Gilbert, dammit, but not fully. Not when he still loved Toni.

I can still love him. Lovino realized. But I have to let him go. I have to move on. Toni's not here anymore, but Gilbert is, and he loves me as much as Toni ever had. His throat grew scratchy and his eyes stung with tears. Toni, I'm sorry, dammit. But I'll still have you… I promised you, didn't I, bastard? His hand found the cross hanging around his neck and closed around it, holding it tightly.

I didn't deserve you. I never did. I was an asshole, and you still loved me… dammit.

Why is everything always so hard for me? What did I ever do?

Lovino sniffed and tried to make it into a cough. Then he felt someone grab his hand.

Feliciano was looking at him, concerned. "Lovi, don't cry. Everything will be okay, ve."

Lovino blinked and was about to launch into an angry denial, but he closed his mouth and clasped Feliciano's hand back.

You're such a fucking idiot, Feli, you don't even know…

Lovino was crying.

Ludwig walked up to the head of the group and stopped them all.

"All right, there's a road just up ahead." He motioned to it, and everyone before him went pale. "Don't tell me that I was the only one who saw it. I say we head toward it—"

"I thought we all agreed that we would stay away from anything that might be traveled by other people," Alfred spoke up firmly.

Ludwig frowned. "You did not let me finish. As I was saying, we should head toward the road and follow it, though at a safe enough distance that anyone traveling on the road will not see us."

"Why?" Alfred continued. It wasn't like he was trying to be annoying. It was more out of apprehension caused by all the other encounters that came with going anywhere near human structures that was Alfred's problem.

Ludwig understood that and held his gaze levelly. "We have no map other than the stars, and even then those are not entirely reliable. We need to know where we are going, and following the roads will help guide us through the country." Before Alfred could oppose him further, Ludwig added, "I know it's a risk, but we cannot keep wandering around blindly if we wish to reach the capital as soon as possible."

Everyone was silent, and then Arthur said, "It's worth a shot."

"Ve," Feliciano spoke up. "I want to try it. It's lonely traveling so far away from everything. I miss seeing the roads." In all honesty, Feliciano was terrified to go anywhere near where people might be, but because Ludwig loved him, he felt it was his responsibility to support him.

Everyone stared. Lovino blinked in surprise. He had never trusted any German's word, but Feliciano… he may be an airheaded dumbass, but he still had good judgment of people. Somehow or another, his brother always made such good friends, and that was something that Lovino was jealous of. Feliciano could sense the goodness in people. Though Ludwig had yet to show anything appealing to Lovino…

… Then again, Lovino did have Gilbert—who, if anything, was even more of an idiot than his potato-headed brother.

"It would be nice if we could get to the fucking capital faster…" Lovino mumbled just loud enough for Ludwig to hear.

Kiku was definitely wary about this. But there was something in Lovino agreeing with Ludwig that made him feel… comfortable with the change in plan. "Hai, but we must be careful."

And so the votes went around the entire group, some mulling over it for a good while until they finally agreed. Then only Alfred was left, his jaw slack with disbelief.

"Guys," he addressed them indignantly. "Have you lost your fucking minds? Remember what happened to Marge? How about Francis? I guess none of you care if it happens, but just wait until it happens to you. Then it'll hit you like a fucking freight train, and you'll be sorry you never listened to me."

"Alfred," Ivan warned, his tone low. "Now is not the time to be argumentative."

"I can be argumentative as much as I goddamn want," Alfred snapped at him. "We went into town twice. And twice something bad happened. People die in towns. A road is no different. Roads lead to people, and all of them are murderous bastards."

Arthur, still looking pale and sickly, tried to raise his voice as much as he could, though it was hard in his weakened state. "Majority vote, Alfred. Just like you always want. Your opinion in this situation does not matter."

Alfred rounded on him and was about to yell, but then he saw Arthur's wounds, his tired eyes, his ill complexion—his iron-melting glare. So he lowered his voice. "Watch. You'll be the first to go."

Arthur's glare wavered for a moment and only that. He knew Alfred always said hurtful things when he was angry. He'd learned long ago not to take it to heart. He straightened and glared back with twice the power. "You will watch," he flashed back. "And you will learn."

Alfred didn't know how to respond to that, so he shut his mouth. He was still brooding inside and found himself glaring at Arthur as the Briton turned back around to further discuss Ludwig's suggestion. Then he caught himself.

What am I doing? Alfred mused. I'm such a bitch. Was that how I sounded during my revolution? He remembered.

"Ungrateful brat," Arthur had called him so many names then. "Dim child," "Pretentious boy." But it had all been true. Alfred had come to realize this long before, though he hated to admit it. Arthur had gotten him to his feet… and Alfred had repaid him by saying he hated him. Arthur had given him that same look: filled with ire but also with a certain disappointment.

"I gave you everything, Alfred, everything. And now this… you really are such a child, you'll never make it without me. Just look how thick you're being. You can't even control the natives. You're not ready, Alfred, and this world will eat you alive!" And he had seen through Arthur's anger, could see the fear the Briton had held for him. And Alfred had almost given in, almost ran into Arthur's arms and said he was sorry and that Arthur was right, that he was just a child.

Almost…

"I've never hated you." Arthur's words on the plane still hung heavy on his mind. Arthur had saved his life, and Alfred was angry at himself for being such a jerk. Had he always been this much of an asshole?

He found himself looking over at Matthew, and the Canadian was studying him. When their eyes met, Matthew shook his head, and Alfred looked away. Arthur was good at hiding his hurts… and Alfred knew his words had cut deep. He had basically told him he was going to die, and that when he did Alfred would be there, standing over his corpse, sneering that he had told him so, that he should have listened, that he was the child.

Alfred's stomach turned over at the thought. I wasn't ready. Just look at what I've become. He was so goddamned selfish and brutal on a whim. His knuckles were still sore, still bore the scars and bruises from pounding Higgins's face in—like an animal.

Ivan sensed his unease and tugged Alfred's arm, urging him closer to his side. "You have lost much. You did not mean what you said."

"Doesn't matter," Alfred muttered. "I still said it."

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Just a drabble of how conflicted everyone is with their emotions. Shit's gotten complicated when I paired everyone up, huh? And America is being cute in a threatening way. It's his thing, don't judge him! (Except when he was being mean to England. You can judge him on that).

And I'm sorry this is being posted so incredibly late. I went to see Gravity and it took me a while to come down from all the angst that caused me. I can't even snorkel cause I'm so scared of not being able to breathe (Imma lame retard sometimes, people, but really). Anyway, I've been wanting to see it and, holy shit, that was one of the scariest movies I have ever seen, like... ever. I couldn't even eat my munchies cause my stomach was so upset (it kinda gave me vertigo, haha) and that's saying something cause I attack that popcorn bag like it's the shit. And then afterward when we had to leave, I got up and my legs were all jittery and... fuck, was it good. Seeing it in 3D would have been way worse for me. Thank God for me being cheap. :3

Annnnyway, I'm not a film critic. But I still suggest it. More relationship stuff next time~!