HetaOni: CrimsonCrimson. The color of pasta sauce, of my brother's tomatoes, of my tricolor flag. A color that's part of my everyday life.
I never want to see it again.
It fills my vision, staining the once-pure white floors, furniture, walls.
It stains the uniforms of my friends.
How many more times will I fail? How many more times must I see this flood of red that obscures my sight? When will this cycle end?
No matter how many times I try, I never succeed. The color I once loved so much continuously flows from my friends, taking their lives with it.
I want it to stop. I want to win. I want them to get out. I don't care if I lose my life in the process; I just want to stop seeing the red that flows from their bodies. I want to stop seeing their eyes glaze over, falling shut with their final breath.
Germany, Prussia, Japan, everyone They all died. Again. They left me alone once more, alone with the vile color that coats the ground beneath my feet.
Once more, I will turn back time. Once more, I w
HetaOni: Death Of A BrotherNo No This can't be happening
"Hang on, America!" England pleaded, holding his brother's dying body close. "Just hold on!"
You stupid idiot Why did you have to be the hero...?
America coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, England Guess I'm not making it out of here "
"Shut up! Don't say that, you git!" England snapped, examining America's mortal wound once more. A deep gash ran from his left shoulder all the way to his right hip, inflicted by the Thing's claws. Despite his best attempts to deny it, England knew nothing could save America now.
"At least I'll get to see Canada again ," America said weakly.
England flinched, remembering the other boy who had also once been his colony. He'd already fallen to the claws of the Thing, brutally killed shortly after their arrival. America's wailing when he'd found his brother's corpse still rang in England's ears. If he ever made it out alive,
HetaOni: Blindness"How many fingers am I holding up?"
England couldn't answer that. He never would be able to ever again. The black curtain lowered in front of his eyes assured him of that.
"You can answer that, can't you? If you can see."
He swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat to go down. He knew America knew the truth as well as he did, that he was only asking because he still clung desperately to the hope they both wished was true.
" It can't be "
Oh, how England wanted to deny it. How he wanted to answer his brother's question, to assure him things were alright, that nothing was wrong. But he knew that there was no escaping the truth.
"I'm sorry, America I can no longer see "
Before England could fully grasp what was happening, two strong arms wrapped themselves tightly around him, pulling him into a crushing embrace. His brother buried his face into his shoulder, starting to soak it with tears within only a few seconds, his body shaking