Hey! I'm alive! Big surprise?

I am touched. I really am. So many reviewers and views...for just a few chapters of a story. Unless you guys are writers yourselves, you have no clue how happy I am to know that there are people out there that are seeking me out through PM, my other stories, wonderful comments...It's just so amazing, right?

...Do you think that was more cheddar or monterary jack? Cuz that was a little cheesey...

Uhh...Yeah..Here you is*gives readers the chapter while wondering if they're mad for the long wait* *nervous smile*

Silence.

That was all that could be heard in a specific, isolated home in Venice, Italy.

Usually, the house was full of life. Throughout the day, sounds of laughing, overzealous babbling, and various activities in the kitchen would greet whoever walked through the house. It would seem to bounce off the walls, emphasizing their glorious tomato red color. Even at night, when most were asleep, the sounds of not-so-quiet-like-it-should-have-been humming would cheerful sound throughout the homestead as the occupant(and sometimes his brother, who would visit sometimes) cleaned up in the kitchen or watched some TV.

But not today.

Night had fallen already, but all was still quiet. The cheerful atmosphere was replaced with a thick, solemn cloud that hung in the air. The usually happy, colorful walls, without the bright cheerfulness nearby, seemed to take on the morbid color of dark blood and towered oppressively, choking the remaining life out of the rooms. The white, contrasting furniture appeared as milky, ghostly white forms in the darkness.

But where was the lone occupant?

Upstairs, down the halls, and in a room at the very end of the hallway, the shape of a small, thin body could be made out.

Short, neat, auburn hair sat upon a handsome, tan face. His eyes were closed and his face held a peaceful look on his face. His right hand was pressed up against his right brow, while the left hand dangled off the side of the mattress. His mouth twitched and began to form the beginnings of a relaxed, soft smile. It was obvious that he was having a good dream. The room seemed to lose some of its sorrowful tension. The night no longer seemed so adverse and became soft and sleepy.

Sadly, it would not last.

The Italian's face seemed to tense up. The small smile turned into a frown. Both hands started to fold inward and form fists. A gasp escaped the man's mouth and his neck jerked involuntarily to the side. His eyes fluttered a bit.

The movements started to worsen as the man started to thrash about, tangling himself in his bed sheets. His left hand hit the nightstand by the side of the bed. The Italian gave a cry of pain and fear. His eyes snapped open. They were glazed over, for he was still trapped in the dream-turned-nightmare. He froze for a moment, unseeing eyes gazing forward at some sort of unknown terror.

Panicking, in jerky movements, he leaped up out of bed and ran out the open door of the bedroom.

Italy's POV

He didn't care where he was or where he was going. All he knew that he had to get away. All the typical rational thinking was gone, leaving only the instincts left.

The instinct of fear. And to escape.

Even when sleep-walking/running, he could still see where he was going. He ran down the hallway in a matter of a few seconds. For him, it might as well have been hours.

Which one? Which one is it?

The Italian was able to at least have flashes of coherent thoughts as he ran to the top of the stairs.

They're dead. They're dead. I saw them. I saw them. Why couldn't I save them?

All of a sudden, he stopped, and mechanically turned his head to look behind him. A person in his or her right mind wouldn't see anything there.

But Italy wasn't in his right mind at the moment.

Through his eyes, one would see a hulking grey figure with no other describable features except for soulless, black eyes. It stared at Italy from its position in the doorway of the bedroom, black eyes appearing unnaturally intelligent.

A low, malevolent hiss emitted from deep within the being's throat, but it didn't move.

Italy stared back at it, feeling both afraid and numb at the same time. He blinked.

It disappeared.

Still, Italy didn't let down his guard, he stiffly turned and walked down a set of stairs, staring blankly ahead.

It's all my fault. Why was it me? Why was it me that they had to rely on? Why couldn't it have been anyone but me? I'm just a burden...I've doomed us all.

He made the mistake of looking back.

It was there, standing at the top of the stairs.

I've doomed us all.

Silence. Then, the creature started breathing. They were deep, drawn out, starved breaths.

And they were getting louder.

I did. I doomed us all.

Italy watched the creature. His breathing started to quicken to the point where he started to feel dizzy.

I've doomed us all...I've doomed us all...I've doomed us all...I HAVE DOOMED US ALL!

He blinked.

The creature was upon him in mere seconds.

He gave one last cry before the blackness embraced him. One last thought entered his mind before he drifted off.

96...It was loop 96...

Germany's POV

The first thing that greeted him was the silence.

Even from his position near the road, he would have been able to hear the loud Italian from there. He would be talking about pasta or his favorite sport or cats...or frankly, anything that annoyed the German(which is pretty much anything and everything). He would have expected anything. It's something you get used to when you were friends with perhaps one of the most confusing beings on Earth. But the silence was something that was a complete impossibility within five miles of the Italian.

It made Germany even more uneasy.

He looked over his shoulder to see Romano paying the taxi driver. Apparently, there was some sort of disagreement because they were arguing in rapid Italian. He couldn't make out any words. This reminded him of the time when Italy tried to teach him some Italian during WWII. He had barely paid any attention to the young Italian when he would randomly chirp out a few of the words at random times of the day. Granted, most of the time it was when they were in the middle of stealth missions and he just wouldn't shut up...but that still didn't stop the uneasy feeling that settled in his stomach at the thought of him cruelly hitting him on the head whenever he started talking a lot of the time.

Was he really too hard on Italy?

He never really had a friend before, especially one like Italy. He couldn't help but think back to his clearest memories of his younger years. They were the years of unification. He remembered the battles he fought and the people he killed.

He fought and he fought and,with the guidance of Bismarck and Prussia's military skills, he succeeded and he became a nation-state. He won, but he also lost. Denmark...France...Austria...He hurt so many just be trying to unify.

Then, the first of the world wars came along. It was a war like no other.

It started with the assignation of that Austrian archduke. Then, before he knew it, it was the Triple Alliance vs. the Triple Entente with Germany being with the former fighting alongside Austria. Everyone was pumped. The innovations created by the Industrial Revolution were ready to be tried out in war and everyone felt such strong nationalism and were ready to fight for their country.

But all that war brought was death and despair. Everyone was horrified by the new technology brought into the war. Tanks, shells, trenches, bombs...Not to mention the horrible mustard gas. By the time it was done, so many were dead. And the ones left alive, were so scarred for life. They created methods to express themselves and their insanity, but nothing could "unsee" the seen.

Everyone was scared. And everyone knew human nature. It didn't matter if the person was a citizen or personification. They were all still human and like humans, they wanted something to blame. And who did they blame? Germany.

Germany felt fierce anger flare up inside him. Oh, he remembered that alright. England and France were the worst. They enforced upon him the burden of reparations so he could pay for a crime everyone had commit. They cut down his army, destroyed his political structure, and overall shattered the stability and prosperity that he worked so hard to create.

It wasn't exactly a surprise that WWII followed closely afterwards.

Hitler was a man to be feared. The control he had. The way he could sway an entire population of desperate people with just a few simple words. He had the perfect opportunity to rebuild Germany. He blamed people. The Jews and communists were some of them. Imperialistic expansion followed soon after. And Germany conquered many, leaving destruction in his wake.

Germany was hopeful and just as desperate as his people. He was suffering and he needed help, so he was grateful that Hitler came along. He built up the economy. He stabilized politics. He reconstructed the army. And Germany was glad. He supported him every step of the way.

Then, Hitler started talking about the 3rd Reich.

Of course, like any human, Germany felt the lust for power. He wanted to be powerful. It was in his blood and instincts. It was the nature of a country to conquer and its personifications were no different. So he went along with it.

But then, Hitler started taking it too far. He ordered the genocides of millions and millions of Jews, creating the infamous Holocaust. The concentration camps were the worst. One time, Germany visited one of them. He saw a small girl near the fence. Her eyes were hollow and sickly. Her short hair was a tangled mess and dirt, blood, and blisters had covered her small, fragile frame. And she just lied down...and died. She couldn't have been more than fifteen.

He returned home that day as pale as a sheet. That girl haunted a lot of his nightmares. It wasn't til may years after the war that he learned her name. She was a Dutch citizen whose face was plastered on the covers of thousands of books called The Diary of Anne Frank.

But he didn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. As much as he wishes it wasn't so, Hitler had the power. He didn't. And he could only watch the deaths, keeping a mask of indifference over his anguish and sorrow.

And because of that...Nobody can look at him today without seeing the country who sparked another terrible war and slaughtered because he could.

I don't know why. the German thought, gazing blankly at the Italian house, deep in thought. He didn't see that. He started to walk towards the house.

"Ludwig-san."

Germany jumped at the calm voice that came behind him. he looked over his shoulder to see Japan walking a few yards behind him. He watched curiously as the man quickened his pace to come next to him. He slowed down to match his pace, dark eyes looking up at his face in a questioning manner.

"Ja?" Germany asked, suddenly feeling tired. He held back the urge to sigh as his eyes met Japan's. He had so much on his shoulders right now, and this wasn't making his day better.

Japan averted his eyes and looked at the ground for a few seconds in thoughtful silence as though gathering his words together before he spoke. When he finally did, he met the tall German's eyes again.

"Do you think it is possibur...that Italy-san might have heard what we said?"

Germany was puzzled. What was Japan talking about? "Come again?"

"We..." Japan faltered for a second, but almost immediately started to speak again,"We said some...horribre things that were uncalled for back at the meeting."

Germany put two and two together, and when he did, he felt his blood run cold as a feeling that he never really felt for another nation flowed through his entire being. That feeling that makes your stomach churn and skin crawl. The feeling that poisons you til you feel sick. The unwanted emotion.

Guilt.

"Mein Gott." Germany whispered as his worry increased tenfold. He didn't care about his dignity when he started to jog to the house or when Romano yelled at him to wait up.

Japan's POV

He watched as the realization finally took a firm hold on his friend. Germany's eyes widened as his cold facade crumbled a bit, and, for the first time, Japan could clearly see worry in the nation's eyes.

He whispered something in German and started to jog towards the house. Japan eyes followed him as he went. With a soft sigh, the Japanese nation's eyes dulled sadly.

Usually, I have so much control over my actions. Why did I choose now to have a slip of the tongue? It could have been possible that this incident would not have occurred if I do not just blurt out my impulsive thought.

Japan heard Romano yell in surprise at Germany. Seconds later the Italian rushed past Japan, startling him slightly. Staring at them as they neared the house, Japan allowed himself to become lost in his thoughts again.

Guilt was, unfortunately, an emotion the Japanese man was too accustomed to. He was a country. He was used to gut-twisting, stressful dilemmas, and when guilt reared its ugly head, he was able to hide it just as efficiently as any other emotion. Emotions were weakness, or at least, that was what he told himself. It was so easy to take advantage of one's feelings and trick them. Eventually, that cool indifference stained him permanently. He isolated himself from foreigners and even isolated himself from his own people at times. Nonetheless, he always prided himself for his stoicism and level head. He was fine with it. It was a strategy that was perfect for him. He needed only that and nothing else.

And yet...

Japan couldn't help but sigh and stare down at the ground as the sickly feeling clawed at his stomach. It was so hard to think that he actually had a part in hurting Italy. It was even harder to think that he may have shut himself away because of that.

It was not difficult to put two and two together. Japan swore he heard someone outside the meeting room during the conversation. He dismissed it at the time.

But now everything made sense. He heard. He had to have.

Japan looked back up only to be mildly surprised when he saw how far ahead the other two were. Germany had already reached the beginning of the small set of stairs leading up to the door. He turned back to watch Romano and Japan. Even though Japan was quite a ways behind him, he could see the impatient almost-scowl on the German's face.

Most other nations would say that Germany and Japan were overreacting. They already had a long meeting and work to do and now they took the time to take a trip to Venice just to see a friend? However, that's just the problem. Most nations don't know Italy. And for him to go so far away without warning? Something unspeakably wrong must have happened.

Japan was surprised that his feet had subconsciously started to move at a faster pace, fueled by his worry.

...No. It wasn't worry. This "worry" was too sickening. Too time-consuming. It has plagued his mind since he discovered that he was missing.

He wouldn't admit it bluntly, but Japan, like anyone else, was a very stubborn person. He held his head high and his dignity even higher. So he would never tell that at that time, he realized that the worry had evolved into something worse. It was still small, but it was there.

The first pinpricks of fear.

Not giving too much time to think about it, Japan slowly started to lean forward. His feet rushed to keep up underneath him and before he knew it, he was running.

Italy's POV

Hours of uninterrupted silence gave way with a small slam soon followed by the shrieking sound of shattering glass.

Crash!

Nothing moved. Seconds ticked by in almost a pressuring way on a nearby clock.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

A face slowly and tentatively appeared. peering around the outside wall of the kitchen. Sheepish eyes fell upon a small pile of the broken remains of a plate on top of a computer mouse.

Italy waited, watching the plate as if it would come back together magically and start berating him for breaking it. After a few moments, the rest of the Italian's body appeared from around the wall and began walking to the plate. Once he reached it and bent down to examine it, he made a noise that was between a small whine of complaint and a guilty whimper. It was such a nice plate. Fine china, actually. It was a cream color with a circle of tomato plants around the outer edge, coiling tangles of vine-like plants bearing ripe, delicious fruits ready to be picked and sliced up for eating.

It was.

Without thinking, Italy bent down to pick up a piece only to give a small gasp of pain as the now-sharp edge dug into the skin. He relaxed his hold on the piece, hand uncurling around it to reveal a shard with green vines on it. A dark red spot now adorned the detailed decor, corresponding with another spot on his index finger. Italy couldn't help but give a weak chuckle. Mentally cringing at the discomfort caused by his hoarse voice and heavy lungs.

It looks like a tomato. Must be the time for harvesting. he thought. The small bit of creepy humor doing nothing to chase away the heaviness in his lungs.

He set the shard back down, telling himself that he would clean it up later. He grabbed the cord next to it and stood up, a computer mouse dangled and swayed curiously at the end. He watched the mouse swing with an almost dazed look on his face, but with a sudden jolt, he shocked himself out of his stupor. He turned on his heel and walked back into the other room.

The living room was the same as it was when he arrived, except for a laptop sent on a nearby coffee table. The screen was frozen on the face of a rather horrendous bluish monster with his hands firmly gripping the bars of a jail cell. It seemed to stare blankly ahead with large, almost smudgy-looking eyes.

When his eyes fell upon the thing, Italy gave it an uncharacteristically nasty look. When Japan had told him about that game, he didn't tell him about so many jump scares.

What does "Ao Oni" even mean anyway?

I had such a bad night's sleep. Italy thought, his emotions suddenly turning sorrowful. What possessed me to do this anyway? Since when did I show any interest in horror games?

Italy stubbornly refused to admit that it was because he hoped for any sort of distraction from his dark thoughts.

He walked over to link up the mouse to the computer and then closed the computer with a grimace.

Looks like you're going to have to do stuff without me, Hiroshi. the Italian couldn't help but think.

Italy slowly walked over to the couch and lied down on it, hitting the pillow with a sigh.

Now that Italy had stopped crying, he had to deal with the depression all on his own. He didn't feel like exciting the house, where he would be with a bunch of other people. He just wanted to be alone. He half-heartedly stroked the white couch with his index finger, only for it to draw a line of ruby red.

Mildly surprised, he pulled his hand up to his face to inspect his finger. A small red slice in the tan skin was what met his eyes.

The plate shard...Oh. the Italian thought. He stared at the cut for a few more seconds then got up, trying his best to ignore his body's languor as he sluggishly stumbled to the kitchen.

He entered the kitchen, trying to remember where he had the band-aids. When he remembered, he looked over to the cabinet with a small, whiny groan.

Of all the places...Italy thought somewhat bitterly as he found himself sitting on his knees next to the broken plate, glaring half-heartedly at the floor-level cabinet it so happen to be in front of.

Maybe I can just reach? Italy thought impulsively. Without hesitation, he reached over the shards to open the cabinet. The inside was surprisingly clean with well-organized medicines and small tools gathered in small stacks or baskets, not that Italy cared much. He slowly leaned over the shards to reach inside. He could see them. They were at the very back and in a small basket, but they were there. He reached forward, fingertips only slightly brushing the basket.

His patient mindset crumbled.

Italy's hand retracted from the cabinet and, using both hands, he swiped most of the plate shards to the side, hitting the wooden ground slightly as he did so.

"I'M SICK OF THIS! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE-"

Italy's mindless yelling was interrupted abruptly as he his lungs seized up in a sudden sob. He slammed his hands on the ground, ignoring the pain that flared in his hands at the violent action.

"...alone" he concluded pitifully before he lost himself in his emotions.

And yet, through all of this, the tears refused to come.

Life had always been a simple thing for Italy. He ate. He laughed. He talked. He played. He did all of these things and more.

Just because we sorta live forever doesn't mean we can't seize every day and treat it like it was our last! He remembered telling Romano in a random burst of wisdom.

But now...

Italy couldn't help himself. He wanted to be alone now. Not going out in the world doing things. He didn't have any energy left. It was like the harsh words he heard had forced their way into his entire being and sucked away at his energy until he was bone-dry. At times, he felt somewhat happy. Watching some of his favorite TV shows would allow an actual, sincere smile to pass his lips and even let a small chuckle escape. He also had a chance to see the sunset, which he always tried to do when life would allow it. The last of the days warming rays seemed to become a part of him and give him total peace: something that seemed like an impossible luxury since he got here. He watched it from his place on the couch last night, head resting lightly on the pillow, arms wrapped leisurely around him, and eyes transfixed on the simple beauty of its heavenly glow. However, the peace eventually dissolved, seeming to disappear along with the Sun in a final wink of light. The lethargy returned and the next thing he knew, he was just blankly staring at the dark horizon, eyes barley blinking and not making a single sound. He would do this for hours on end and, if he had been in a clearer state of mind, he would have been concerned.

He couldn't even find the energy for that anymore.

He felt almost sick. The sadness seemed to have settled inside him ever since he shed the first tear. He would be scared that it was now a part of him.

He didn't have the energy for that either, though.

He was just...so tired. It wasn't the satisfying sort of tired after a proud day of fun or work. It wasn't the kind where you wake up in the middle of the night somehow and you just lay there, relishing in the peace of the dark night. It was a different type. A sickly, twisted parasite that embeds itself deep into your soul. It doesn't worsen nor does it get better. It's just there. And no matter what, you can't shake it. You don't even care in the first place, but at the same time, you just want it to leave. It was a stable state of mind, yet it was pure, apathetic torture. Poor Italy didn't know what he was feeling anymore. Countless times that day, he would randomly find himself crying. Whether it be eating cereal or watching one of his TV shows, it didn't matter. The tears would just come involuntarily. And he would let them. It's not like he could stop them.

His mind was such a blank right now all because of his stubborn lethargy. Sometimes, he feels like he doesn't even remember why he was so sad in the first place.

A sad existence. Italy's cloudy mind thought sadly as he mechanically got up and walked back to the couch.

At times, he felt...disconnected. It was like he was reading a story sometimes. All of this sadness was just another part of tragedy in a novel. He found himself actually able to assess his situation at times and even feel sympathy. He could think back on his friends' hurtful words thoughtfully, picking apart each little word to find out why they would say such things. These were the times that his mind was the clearest. Then, reality would come back down on his shoulders like the sky was falling on him and he would go from smiling sadly at the ceiling to clasping into a sobbing heap on the floor. He would realize that this was him.

He felt himself enter one of those moments right now...Ah yes. A world of indifference was a better than a world of pain. That much was obvious.

Dazed, he went back to lay on his couch and stare up at the ceiling, brown eyes clouded and mouth opened slightly in what one person would think as thoughtful wonder.

He hoped to stay like this for a while, or at least the rest of the day. Oh well. He didn't have the energy to think such selfish thoughts anyway.

He was so far gone that he didn't hear the doorbell ring.

Ohhhh. Cliffies~~~~

Not to brag...but I think I captured the emotion of the moment perfectly in words!

Does anyone know what the dream is? I left a few clues...

Bye everyone! See you soon!

-Me Neo of Libra

P.S-Btw, I'm watching the Fairy Tail anime now! It's cute so far! Anyone have opinions on it? No spoliers though!