A/N: So… W-wow, I got quite a few requests to make a second chapter… So I shall. Even as I write this, I'm not sure how it's gonna end, so let's find out together!

I don't own Hetalia

It was 9:46 in the morning at Romano's house when he walked out the door.

Spain knew this because he had been looking down at his watch when Lovino ran into him while in the act of exiting the house. Startled, he had stumbled back a step or two. Unlike usual, Lovino said nothing of the crash, not a single insult or curse. He just moved aside and kept walking.

"O-oi, Romano!" Spain called, jogging after the Italian a bit. "Where are you going…?"

"To do something important," Lovino muttered, not even pausing. "Look, go away, Spagna!"

"B-but I wanted to visit you… Can't I just come with-?"

"No!"

And Spain knew from experience not to go against that tone. So he just had to watch Lovino storm away. Spain sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd wanted to spend the day with Romano in the garden… What would he do now?

And then he noticed Romano had left his front door open.

Spain blinked, tilting his head a little.

How strange, Romano never just left his door open like that… Maybe he forgot? No, that was silly… Romano was incredibly paranoid about locking his doors, since the mafia was in his area…

In any case…

Spain ventured inside and looked around fondly. Despite any of Romano's protests otherwise… There was a familiar aura about the place that couldn't be denied. In the colors, and the positions of the rooms, and the objects inside the rooms…

It was very similar to Spain's house.

But as Spain let out a little laugh at this, he spotted something sitting on the kitchen table.

Papers, spread across the table and written in a hastily messy but familiar handwriting. Lovino's handwriting. He glanced at them for a few seconds, and then a word caught his eyes.

'Spain'

And there it was again. And again. At least once on every page, as he searched. But then he realized something else.

The word 'goodbye'.

And.

In.

A.

Quickly.

Mounting.

Panic.

Spain snatched up the papers and began to read.

'My name is Lovino Vargas.

I represent the southern half of Italy.

And today I am going to die.'

"No!"

Green eyes wide, Spain clutched the papers to his chest and ran out the door, whipping his cell phone from his pocket with his free hand. As it rang, he cursed, begging for an answer in his native tongue.

"Romano! Romano, por favor! Respóndeme! Lovi, I know you don't go anywhere without your phone, pick up!"

(Romano, please! Answer me!)

There was no answer.

Again and again, he tried, each time with no response.

And, no matter how far he ran, there was no sight of Lovino.

And so… Dazed, horrified, and knowing he could do nothing now…

Spain fell to his knees on the side of the road…

And began to read.

And.

As.

He.

Did.

Each word stabbed like a knife.

This was what Romano really thought of them…?

This was how he perceived they felt…?

This?

There were tears pricking at the corners of Antonio's green eyes when he was hailed cheerily.

"Big Brother Spain! Ciao~!"

And then there was Feliciano, one hand raised straight up in a wave, his other arm looped through one of Germany's. But Spain couldn't form any words to greet Italy. He just gave a dry sob, and held out the papers.

Confusion evident on his face, Italy took them and began to read curiously, Germany perusing the words from over the brunette's shoulder. Faster and faster Italy read, tossing papers aside as he finished, as if he couldn't believe them, as if he was searching for a final page that would kindly reassure him that this was all some horrible joke.

There was no such thing.

"G-Germany…!" Feliciano looked up at his blond companion, crying, quietly for once, and looking for comfort.

There was none to be found.

Germany was just looking down at the page with his own name on it, dumbfounded. Reading and rereading the words penned there until they were practically etched into his brain. Even then he didn't look like he understood their message any more.

"I… I let him walk out the door…" Spain said, hands clenched tightly into fists as he shook. "I didn't even think-! I just let him go…!"

"G-Germany…! W-we have to find him…!"

"Soy un idiota...! Todo es mi culpa!"

(I'm an idiot…! It's all my fault!)

"Germany…! P-per favore, dobbiamo andare subito! Dobbiamo trovare mio fratello! Germany!"

(P-please, we have to go now! We have to find my brother!)

"Me quiero morir..."

(I want to die…)

"SHUT UP! Both of you get ahold of yourselves!"

And then Germany had a large hand grabbing each of the crying brunettes by the collar.

"There's no way we will find him if we just run around or sit here and cry about it!" he shouted. "This needs to be done in an orderly fashion! A military fashion!"

Spain's green eyes brightened with just the barest shade of hope.

"S-so you have a plan…? Gracias, gracias, Alemania! No me olvidaré de esto!"

(Thank you, thank you, Germany! I won't forget this!)

The blond nodded solemnly, releasing Italy and Spain.

"Firstly… We need more people to canvass the area," he started calmly, pacing. "I'll call my brother, someone call… France. … I hate to admit it, but with his large number of message birds, he could be of great use in locating Romano."

So Germany dialed his brother and Italy called France… And Spain tried one more time to get Romano to answer his cell phone.

"Antonio, stop calling."

And he was so startled to hear that voice, Lovino's voice he was still alive he was talking to him he wasn't dead there was still a chance to stop him from dying and he just.

Almost.

Forgot.

To.

Reply.

"W-wait, Lovi! W-whatever you're doing, don't! Por favor, Lovi! D-don't die!"

"Lo siento, España."

"Lovino!"

And then he was gone.

The line went dead, and Spain was panicking, and he had to hurry, they had to hurry didn't anyone see that? There was no time to be orderly, to be military, they had to go now! Now!

So he ran.

Went alone.

No thoughts of anything but finding his Lovi and telling him everything. Holding him close and rambling in words of love until his voice gave out. Until he could see a smile come to that solemn face.

And he didn't stop running, fueled by these thoughts, until he reached a field of sunflowers that he remember his Lovi had taken great pride in. His little Sicilian suns.

And.

He.

Saw.

It just so happened that France's Pierre had spotted something quite quickly. And so everyone went racing, from different directions.

And it had been so easy to gather so many people…

Because they had arrived for the Italies' birthday celebration.

To be held the next day.

It was the day before their birthday…

And so they had to stop Romano, if only to let him see this birthday.

To set things straight.

So they all converged on that place…

Belgium from the north, where she had been informed by Italy while heading to take Romano an early birthday present.

Germany from the west.

Turkey from the east, where he had just arrived in the country.

Italy from the northwest.

France from the northeast.

Prussia from the southwest.

… Spain from the southeast.

A light from the south.

Something like a star…

A man whose eyes were tired with wisdom and foolishness and everything that comes with family.

The light of Rome…

The light of Rome from the south.

And.

Facing the sky like a prophet or an angel…

Lovino himself, in the middle.

They all met in that place.

A strange sort of circle.

A center and eight petals.

A gun pressed tightly to the temple of.

The one everyone had been searching for.

And he smiled like there was nothing there to smile about.

He smiled like the world was ending, smiled like jagged edges of broken glass.

Smiled like a man long dead.

His fingers twitched on the trigger.

And then…

Something happened.

I'll let you decide how this tale ends…

If one of any eight people was able to save the life of Lovino Vargas.

Or if blood was the only answer to this story.

But either way the ending goes…

They say that nine people said goodbye that day.

Goodbye to unbestowed attention.

Goodbye to lacking brotherly ties.

Goodbye to unspoken love.

Goodbye to not being able to protect those you care for.

Goodbye to faked strength.

Goodbye to respect unearned.

Goodbye to suppressed individuality.

Goodbye to vivid memories.

Goodbye to Lovino Vargas.