Hey guys! So this is my first Hetalia one-shot (not my first fic, but the first one shot) and I'm feeling pretty proud of it. I've read over it a few times, editted a few times, and I finally think it is worthy of viewing. I've been turning this idea over in my head ever since I saw the last episode of HetaOni and now that I have a day off, I thought I'd type it up and share it with you all. So yeah, I don't own Hetalia, all that blabbity jazz, please enjoy!

Spain had no clue what to do as the older Italian lay before him, slumped against the dusty bookshelves with an expression of pain etched across his face. His mouth was opened wide but no sound came out because there was nothing to be said, no sound that could express the agony he was feeling.

Nothing, not a single sound nor word that the Italian knew could properly release the pain of knowing his little brother was going to die.

Spain didn't know what Romano knew, he didn't have the connection to their world that Romano did. But Romano could hear his brother's thoughts, feel his fear, his pain. He knew his baby brother was dying and that there was nothing he could do to save him. And that was the worst pain of all. He felt his brother's heart racing faster with fear, the pangs of hurt that must have come with Italy making a movement, he could almost see the tears flowing easily down the younger boy's face. Meanwhile, Spain's heart thudded harder in his chest as he saw Romano's breathing quickening and he became sure that he must be having a seizure. Spain grabbed his hand and held it with a vice, not knowing what else to do. Then Romano's breathing hitched, and the empty air of the library was filled with the sound of an almost inhuman scream.

"Veneziano!"

In their proper time loop, the nations sat with just as little clue what to do as Spain as they gaped in horror at the bleeding man. Time seemed to slow around them as Italy swayed this way and that, all the while covering his gushing wound with his arms, and then eventually collapsed to the ground. Germany was at his side in the blink of an eye, but Japan, like the others, froze; none of them had ever had to lose a friend in this way before. Countries weren't supposed to die, yet here he was. Italy, innocent, sweet little Italy who had been willing to do anything for any one of them, was bleeding to death right before their eyes. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

"I-Italy," Germany stammered. He was now kneeling at his friend's side, his hands hovering slightly in the air as if he wished to do something to help him but didn't know what to do. The Italian let out a choked sob.

"That was the last one G-Germany," he managed to whisper despite his shortage of breath. "You c-can all go home now." Italy managed to smile weakly. "I've wanted so badly for you to all go home. Although... I would've liked to go with you."

"Don't say that Italy!" America said, barely managing to keep from hyperventilating. "We're going to get you out of here with us, okay? You're going to be fine!"

"I-I wish I could be h-happier," Italy continued as if America had said nothing. "I wish I could celebrate with you all... like we planned! It was going to be... so fun."

"I-Italy," Germany stuttered dumbly, for once not having any idea what he could say. "America is right. We will get you out of here, and as soon as you're out you'll heal quickly like countries always do. It's this house that's stopping it, that's all. We'll get you out and- and you'll make pasta and annoy me and run away from training just like you always have." Italy managed to smile again.

"V-Ve. That sounds n-nice." At this time he began coughing, wheezing more like, and his tears ran faster as he did. "I'm so scared Germany. Usually... when I'm scared, Grandpa Roma appears and he sings to me... and then I forget why I was afraid. But Germany, he's not here this time." The other nations began to wring their hands and quicken their blinking to hide the forming tears, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer now. "I wish I could just hear him sing again. I'm so scared." The room is silent, save for Italy's sniffles, and then suddenly a voice breaks the quiet.

"I remember tears streaming down your face when I said, "I'll never let you go,'" a strong, reassuring voice that could only belong to America sings. The other nations stared at him in shock, although it shouldn't have surprised him. It wasn't unusual for him to do things like this, and he'd been listening to the song for weeks mumbling about the pure and beautiful love of Katniss and Peeta. "When all those shadows almost killed your light I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone" But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight"

To everyone's shock, America did not sing the next part alone.

"Just close your eyes. The sun is going down. You'll be alright. No one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound," Germany and America now sang together, bringing a sad smile to the paling face of the younger Italian. It'll be all right Veneziano, he thought he heard a voice in his head. Your fratello is coming for you. I'll be there for you.

"R-Romano," he whispered in a voice only he could hear.

"Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire." Now Prussia and France joined the other two. "The war outside our door keeps raging on.
Hold on to this lullaby, even when the music's gone. Gone.

Italy's breathing hitched.

In his time loop, Romano's quickened.

No Veneziano, hold on. Your big brother is coming, just hold on a moment.

"Just close your eyes. The sun is going down. You'll be alright. No one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound," China, Japan, and Russia chorused in with the others, struggling to remember the words they had only heard a few times. The others stumbled over the words as well, but it didn't make a difference to the Italian. He wasn't all that familiar with English anyway.

Italy began coughing again, then began to gasp for breath. It became harder and harder to choke down the freezing air, and the bloodflow seemed to slow.

In another time, Romano bolted upright, panting hard and screaming, "No fratello! No no no, just a little longer! Hold on you selfish bastard, please!"

"Oooh, Oooh, Oooh, Oooh Oooh, Oooh, Oooh, Oooh La La (La La) La La (La La) Oooh, Oooh, Oooh, Oooh Oooh, Oooh, Oooh, Oooh La La (La La)." At this point, America had elbowed a certain confused Englishmen, who wasn't entirely sure what was going on, and the older man swallowed his pride to sing the last words that Italy caught.

I'm coming fratellino.

Still trapped in their time loop, Spain was witnessing yet another strange phenomenon from his friend. Romano had leaned his head back against the bookcase and closed his eyes, but he now sang softly under his breath Spain remembered America had been obsessed with a few months ago.

"Just close your eyes. You'll be alright. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound..." the young man sang breathlessly. He opened his eyes just a crack and glanced at the man that had raised him. "I'm sorry, but he can't be alone in this."

And then, with no warning or reason, Italy Romano stopped breathing and his heart ceased to beat.

The song was finished, but the room had lost it's stony, mournful silence. China, England, America, Russia, and Canada had fled the room when Germany lost control, but they could hear his yells from the hallway. With each bang- maybe him punching the wall, or kicking something over, or just struggling against France, Prussia, and Japan- they winced, knowing that whatever was going on in there couldn't be good.

Inside, Germany had lost any comprehension of what was going on. He was sure that Italy was messing with them. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead. His friends and his brother tried to calm him, tried to pull him away from the man who no longer smiled or 've'-ed. In the end, though, he always threw them off to the side like they were so much nothing. Only Prussia was strong enough to restrain his brother on a normal day, but now it couldn't be done.

Italy lay still at the center of the room, his smile faded and his clothes drenched in his own blood. His hands were still strewn across his torso, where he had tried his best to conceal the gore from his friends that could still see. Kneeling at the corpse's side, invisible to the other's in the room, was Italy. The blood that stained his body didn't show on his ghost, and the peaceful expression was exchanged for a bleary-eyed look of terror. He couldn't hear the chaos, he was oblivious to the pain his friends now felt. In his mind he was alone. Fratello, you said you'd come for me.

"I didn't lie to you, idiot, I'm right here," the elder Italy brother grumbled. He stood across the room near the window, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes glistening at the sight of his brother's broken body lying on the floor.

"Romano!" Italy sprang towards him and Romano was forced to hug his brother. "I'm so scared Romano. Why can't I hear them? Why do I feel so cold?" The younger of the two then began to sob again. "I don't want to die."

"It's all right, little brother," Romano whispered. "I promised you, remember? You and I'll be safe and sound."

Yeah, so I kinda got it in my head that if Italy dies Romano does too, since they represent the same country. A little weird, I know, but that's just how my head works. Anyway, I really hope you liked it and it didn't suck as much as I feel like it did. Have a happy MLK day, and please review!