Axis Powers Hetalia Oneshot
Warning: Suicide Implications, Character Death, Alternate Universe

***

It had been a week.

The whole house was deathly silent. Despite the bright sun shining through the windows, it was a chilling cold inside. The cat that would usually come through the windows was gone, nobody had seen it.

Nothing was cooking on the stove. The phone was silent. It was clean, for once. All the doors were closed, some of them locked. So were the windows. Curtains that existed in the house were drawn closed.

The front door opened.

The country in question was actually surprised that the door was unlocked. He then realized with a sigh that after what happened, it probably wouldn't. Shifting the grocery bag in his arms, he shut the door with his back.

He sighed again. The Italies' house just wasn't the same without the bright laughter, loud talking, and playful arguments filling the atmosphere.

The country somewhat felt like an intruder, disturbing the house at a sensitive time. Nonetheless, he dropped the bag of Italian groceries on the dining table, noticing that the sink was impeccably clean. He raised an eyebrow at that. The sink was never clean, or at least whenever he visited the Italies before.

The silence was unbearable. The country momentarily considered calling his friend's name, but... At the same time, he felt as if he would break something more valuable than silence if he spoke up. He decided to find his fellow Italian by just searching.

His first instincts led him upstairs, to the bedrooms. There were three; two with their doors closed, and one open. Looking through the open door bedroom made the country's breath hitch. Impeccably clean, like the rest of the house. And, unlike the rest of the house, the room's cleanliness was to be expected. Expected... For all the wrong reasons.

The sight brought horrible memories to the country, and he shook his head to clear them. But they were still lingering, with their shouts, their cries, the single bullet shot...

He stepped in front of one of the closed door bedrooms, hand lifting up, but he couldn't bring himself to knock.

He's still in mourning, he thought sadly, the hand that was about to knock going down. He won't appreciate me coming in... Especially after... He gripped his arms as he was suddenly plagued with more haunting memories of the past month.

The appalling news... The immediate choice... The intense arguing...

Me not being there for him...

He wiped his eyes, surprised he was actually crying. He hadn't cried in... Two decades? Three? He was about to a week ago, but he had to stay strong then.

For him.

The country sighed. It had been a week, and he hadn't seen his friend's face since. The others were worried too. He had been elected to check up on his friend, after multiple rounds of votes.

And check on him he will.

He knocked twice.

There was shuffling inside, then a quiet mumble. Then, silence.

The country gulped. He wasn't very used with comforting people. "Are you in there?" He asked, putting his hand down again.

More shuffling. Another quiet mumble.

"Everyone's worried about you." ... "They miss your brother too."

Silence.

"... S-Seriously. You need to come out. Everyone's worried. Especially me."

There was a little bit of shuffling, and then a barely audible "Who else?"

The country sighed in relief, a little happy that his friend responded. "Well, Austria and Hungary are heartbroken. I've seen Hungary cry on multiple occasions, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's the same for Austria on a more private scale. Belgium and the Netherlands have been trying to send you gifts." The country chuckled. "There's a bunch of boxes on your porch. You should check them out."

He waited patiently for a response. When none came, he continued.

"Japan is... Well..." He sighed. "Japan's not great. He misses him and you a whole lot. He's been making a lot of paper cranes. Prussia's kind of the same. He really misses you. He's been kind of isolating himself lately. And..." He hesitated. Should he tell him the last person?

Against his better judgment, he did. "I know you hate him, but Germany's concerned about you too. He misses him just as much as you do. He has the same pain. He understands." He knocked again. "Roma, can I come in?"

There was a muffled "Go away, bastard."

Spain smiled sadly. "Come on, Roma. This isn't healthy. Let me in." He tested the door handle; it's locked.

There's silence. It's deafening.

"You need to come out of your brother's bedroom, Romano."

"Shut up."

"Romano, I'm serious," Spain put more intensity in his voice. "Either you let me in, you get out, or I break this door down to get in."

"You're not America."

"No, I'm not," Spain agreed, patience wearing thin. He felt just like when he first got Romano from Austria several centuries ago, having to deal with his tantrums for the first time. "But I used to be a conquistador, remember? An empire. I can and will break down this door."

Well... He was sort of bluffing on that. Breaking down the door by himself would be difficult, and the strength he had as an empire was mostly gone now. If only he had his axe with him...

He then heard the door unlock. Spain waited for the door to actually open, but after a moment he just opened the door himself.

Upon opening the door, he heard glass clinking and rolling on the carpeted floor. Looking down, Spain was shocked to see various pill bottles, syringes, glass vials, bullet shells,and other various objects on the floor. They covered the floor like a second skin, spilling onto the bed.

Romano was sitting in the corner of the bed away from the door, hugging a blood-spattered pillow tightly.There was a pistol just in front of him, along with two syringes, a few more glass vials, and a picture frame. On the opposite side of the bed, on the ceiling, a rope hung.

Spain felt all the breath in him drain away. "Romano..." Had he been trying to kill himself? Had he been too grief stricken to realize that it wouldn't work now?

Romano clutched the pillow tighter, not responding. He was still dressed in the same uniform her wore a week ago, Spain noticed, except his feet were bare and there were more blood stains.

Carefully picking his way over the littered floor, Spain brushed a few vials away to sit on the bed. He noticed that the picture frame on the bed was a picture of Romano, Veneziano, and Seborga beaming at the camera. The date was partially covered, but he could see the year: 2023.

"Why?" Romano mumbled into his pillow, causing Spain to look up at him. "Why, Spain?"

Spain slowly exhaled through his nose, immediately saddened. "... I don't know, Romano."

"He knew I was going to be the one. He knew. Why did he still do it?"

Spain grasped the sheets of the bed as he thought. He didn't know; nobody did. Romano was the last one to see him, and even then, it was a brief moment.

Nobody knew why Italy Veneziano pulled the trigger and ended his life.

"I was supposed to die!" Romano shouted into his pillow. "He was supposed to be the only representation! God damn it all, why!"

***

Only one representation of Italy was needed. That's what they said, anyway. While one was doing all the work, the other was just a big burden. He wasn't needed.

True, they both represented the two sides of the diverse Italian culture.

True, they both played separate roles in the history of mankind.

True, they both were the two halves of Italy before the unification.

But only one was needed now. The country could only handle one. Everyday, the two halves were getting weaker from the conjoined power. If one was removed, the other would inherit full power.

They decided to keep Italy Veneziano, who was already the main representation of Italy, the 'real Italy', and to remove Italy Romano.

For a month, they prepared. Goodbyes were said. Belongings were packed. They picked a date for when Italy Romano would die: the day where it was possible to kill him without hurting the his other half. Preparations were made so that he would die an honorable death, and be buried like a soldier in combat.

They groomed Italy Romano for death. He complied without a single complaint. After all, he had expected it, ever since the unification during 1876. That one day he would die, or fade away.

It was especially hard for Spain. All he could see, at that point of time, was the small Romano he had raised. How small, how insecure, how provocative he was back then, he was the same right then. Belgium was the same, and Spain had caught her silently crying in her brother's arms on the week he was supposed to die.

He didn't want him to die. He didn't want anyone to die.

The fateful day came too quickly. It was to happen in the early morning, just before noon. The chosen death was administered drugs that went straight to the heart; the same drugs that put down animals, but strengthened. Veneziano was supposed to administer it, for whatever odd reason. It made Spain sick.

Few people attended, but only because few people were invited. Spain was there, along with Belgium and the Netherlands. Japan and Germany were there too, to comfort Veneziano when the deed was done. Hungary, Austria, and France had begged to come as well, but their pleas were rejected. A few humans were there too, but not for comfort. Nonetheless, country and human dressed formally, in their respective uniforms. No one wore black.

Both of the Italies were also in their uniforms. However, no one noticed the bulge beneath Veneziano's jacket.

Ten minutes before the appointed time, Veneziano pulled Romano aside, telling everyone he wanted to say one final goodbye. The humans reluctantly agreed, and the two brothers left the room.

Five minutes passed. A human suggested that they should find Romano. Belgium snapped at them to let them be.

Two more minutes passed. The humans were getting antsy. Even the countries started getting concerned.

One more.

Then, they heard the shot.

All five countries raced out of the room, Germany in the lead. Being trained in the arts of war, they got to the right room after a few tries. Nobody noticed how far away it was. It was locked, and after they broke it down...

Romano was sobbing. Screaming. He was sitting on the floor on his knees, in the middle of the room. Unaware of his surroundings.

There was a figure laying on his lap, blood pouring from his head. A pistol lay on his right hand. He had a blissful expression on his face. As if he did not regret what he did.

The humans arrived shortly thereafter. They were shocked; as was expected.

Suddenly, Romano grabbed for the gun. Before anyone could react, he pointed it at his chest and pulled the trigger.

Nothing. The gun was empty, having already fulfilled its purpose.

It left Romano collapsing over his dead brother in a shaking heap, the gun dropped and forgotten. No one moved for a moment.

Then, Germany stepped inside the room. He paused, before turning back to his comrades.

Wordlessly, the other countries followed. They all approached Romano carefully, and done one of several things.

Germany reached down and lifted Veneziano up while Japan muttered proverbs and ceremonial sayings. Whether Romano was blinded by his tears, or he was too deep in shock to notice, he didn't react when Germany neared him.

Spain and Belgium coaxed Romano up, until he was standing. Romano could barely walk, and he leaned heavily on Spain as Belgium led them forward.

With the little Italian he knew, Netherlands told the other humans to make way and let them through. They obliged, shocked from the recent events and intimidated from Netherlands. He led them to the casket that was prepared for Romano, cold and black, and Germany laid Veneziano down.

Later, they found cameras in the room, recording the death. There was also a piece of masking tape on the ground, bloodied. It was all planned; Veneziano had made sure that his brother would not be blamed for the death.

On March 17, 2076, exactly two hundred years after the Italian unification, Italy Veneziano, former personification of North Italy, shot himself in the brain in an act of selflessness. However, this record will never be known to the general public; only to a few select humans and the personifications.

***

Don't worry, I have a bucket here for your shattered heart.

So... How many thought at first that it was Romano who died? And then how many of you were utterly heartbroken that I actually killed Italy instead~? Whoopsies...

I was kinda sorta inspired by this:

And I'm kinda like "Huh.

Huh.

...

That's actually a great idea."

Oh, and guess what~? There's gonna be a part two! So I can shatter your heart again. Heh.

Alright, see you later~!