Don't Go

Germany shot up from his bed as he heard gunshots echo thoughout the house. He noticed that Italy was not on his side of the bed.

"I-Italy!"Germany cried stumbling out of bed and running towards Italy's room.

He slammed the door open to see the Italian in a pool of crimson liquid. "Ve-Veniciano!" Germany cried again, quickly stumbling toward the smaller man. He didn't know what was happening. Hot tears fell from his cheeks as he collasped next to the bleeding figure.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. It seeped into the Italian's clothes. It clumped his auburn hair. It was splattered on his face.

Oh, his face. The angelic face, caked with blood, now sleeps forever more. No life dances in his eyes as it did when he made pasta and sang. His lips, pale and cold as the rest of his body. It no longer moves as it did as he chattered about all the small things of life.

"No, NO! Veniciano! NO!" Germany screamed, but the other could no longer hear. Germany continued as he picked up the fragile figure, wiping the blood off the Italian's soft skin, looking at the face that was so happy, so joyful just only a few hours ago.

Such a big smile as he made his last pasta dinner earlier. A huge grin as he played board games with Germany, happily crushing him opponent. A small grin as he snuggled next to Germany before they fell asleep together...was now gone. The smile replaced with a scowl, frowing at life.

Germany reached over behind him, to where the bringer of death was dropped, having difficulty tyring to pick it up. He fumbled to hold it properly as he placed the barrel up to his temple.

He pulled the trigger.

Germany heard a click, but nothering happened. Again and again he tried to shoot himself to find the gun empty. The last bullet engraved into the Italian's skull. More tears came as he pulled the trigger once more. To weak to get up and get more bullets, and unable to leave the other, he chucked the gun agross the room. It hit the wall with a crack, leaving a dent in the wall.

Germany looked back down at the sleeping angel. He felt anger bubble inside him.

"Dammit Italy!" He yelled at the corpse, as if to wake him up. He then felt sadness and pain tighten in his chest. "Dammit," he whispered placing his forehead ot the other's cold one.

Tears dripped off Germany's face and onto Italy's face, leaving streaks in the splattered blood.

"D-dammit, Italy," he sobbed, "I love you." He lightly brushed his lips against the Italian's; tasting copper blood mixed with pasta. "I love you. Don't go."

Hello! This is my third story posted! Hope you enjoyed...or cried...either one.

(Also why Italy killed himself...I have no clue myself)