==*===* ah, Hello! This is my very first Gerita song fic, based off the song "It Took Me By Surprise" , by Maria Mena. I DO NOT OWN THE SONG...Just the story. Oh yeah! As much as I'd like to...I don't own Hetalia or any characters associated with it.

Trust me, I wish I did. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it...Please enjoy.====*====

Ever since the second World War, Germany has been acting..abnormal. Ever since the war had begun, Germany had been. . Meaner. He would always yell at Italy, almost always to the point that Italy would run out the house in tears. He's hit the smaller nation as well, shouting obscenities and other heart breaking words. But even then, Italy would try his very best to please Germany. Italy would bend to his every will, no matter how hard it was for him. But, it never seemed to be enough for Germany. One day, when Germany had ordered Italy to prepare some food, Italy had tried to make wrust. He failed to drain the water out of the meat, and spilled some of the beer he was supposed to serve to the man. Cleaning it up and trying to fix it quickly, he ran away to his room, frightened of the stronger nation finding out his mistake.

"ITALIEN!" The thick German voice would shout, causing the Italian in question to shiver in fear and scurry to the location of the voice. Hiding behind the wall, his own, softer voice quivered in response.'

"Y-Yes, G-Germany?" He would ask, his amber colored eyes staring frightfully at the taller, stronger man. When did this all start? When did he have to start to cower behind things to stay out of sight from the man he cared for most?

"Come here." He ordered, and the smaller man complied with his wish. As he stepped into the kitchen where the German was, his body shook. Had he done something wrong again? Oh Dio, Italy thought. Oh Dio, Mi Dispace! Mi Dispace! non essere arrabbiato con me! Please, don't hit me again! At the thought of getting struck again by the large German, Feliciano felt tears well up in his eyes. Walking up to Germany, he braced himself the best he could for whatever he might do. What happened next both surprised and scared him.

Germany...Germany hugged him. Large, muscular arms enveloped the small body and crushed Italy to his chest. Not too tightly to constrict his breathing, but enough to disparage any thought of getting out his grasp. A small, meek gasp came from the auburn brunette, as tears began to spill from his eyes. He stared in shock at the gesture, before his eyes widened. The other man seemed to be trembling, and he could faintly feel something wet on his shoulder.

"Italien..." Germany choked out a sob. He held him tighter, sniffing. "Feliciano...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me..Please...Ich liebe dich, Feli. I promise, I won't do this, ever again. Please..Just forgive me." He began to weep, much to the other's surprise. Italy remained silent, before his arms slowly returned the act, hugging the German soldier as much as he could.

"Ti amo, Ludwig."

Eventually, other countries began to notice the pained state that Feliciano was in. His demeanor was becoming more and more gloomy. He wouldn't take his clothes off when he takes his normal siestas anymore, and slowly, he began to grow less...happy. He wouldn't even sleep with Germany anymore. But, they could not help him. Not when they were all in a war, one that was hurting people on both sides. How could they help the enemy? As much as Romano and Spain loved Italy, they could not try to figure out what was wrong. Italy tried his best not to show it though, because deep in his heart, he had hoped that Germany would keep his promise one day.

But, in the end, he never did keep his promise. By the next week, he had begun the routine once again. Soon, Italy was littered with bruises and scars once again. It had been a so long since Germany had hugged him, kissed him, done anything nice for him, and nothing seemed to change.

"FELICIANO!" Germany's voice boomed, as he slammed the door open to a bedroom. Sitting on the bed, was the person in question. His amber eyes, once filled with such innocent delight, had dulled to show the true amount of sadness and despair he felt. His head slowly looked over, staring at the abusive man. His face had started to sink in, for Germany had begun to starve the poor Italian. Germany marched in, his eyes pure with anger, disappointment, and the steel cold look only a general of war would give. Gripping Italy's arm roughly, he threw him down onto the floor, causing the other to whimper softly in pain.

"You were supposed to have run five laps today! Yet you have run none! NOT ONE!" He shouted. "Stand! NOW, ITALIEN!"

Italy stood as told, but staggered to the right for a few moments. He was greeted by a hard slap of Germany's gloved hand. "STAND STRAIGHT, YOU STUPID PASTA EATER!"

Italy hesitated, bringing him another hit, before he tried his best to stand straight. Germany then scoffed, and turned away. "You disgust me. Get out of my sight." He said, before marching back to the door. He slammed it shut, and Italy was then alone once more. Italy crawled to the far corners of the room, cowering from pure fear of his friend. No..That wasn't the right word to call him now. Shaking, his slimmed and bruised body was wrapped around a raggedy blanket in the room. Suddenly, in the recesses of that room, in the very far corner, Feliciano Vargas, the personification of North Italy, snapped.

His silent demeanor was starting to grow...unsettling.

Soon, whenever Germany had come back to scold and abuse the poor Italian, a new emotion flared through his now red eyes. Hate.

How could he do this to me? cried Italy. I've done nothing but do my best to please him, and he does this! Why?! Why does he hate me so much?! ..It doesn't matter. I won't let him do this to me anymore. I won't allow it.

When the Nazi soldier had come back, He found the Italian standing stark and straight, his amber eyes now glazed a deep red.

His navy blue outfit was wrinkled and blood stained, scuffled up and torn, showing the many beatings that Italy had endured. The German noticed the new change of attitude, and slowly walked over, his eyes widened in shock and sadness. He would, yet again, wrap his arms around the smaller male, and cry. Italy made no gesture back, and simply stared on with spiteful eyes.

"I'm so sorry.." Germany apologized, holding him close once more. He sobbed, his body wracking and shivering with the trembling weeps. Italy's heart almost cracked to see the normally stoic man reduced to such ruins. Almost.

"No...You're not." He responded. "You're not sorry, Ludwig."

As soon as he spoke those words, he pushed the sobbing German away from him forcefully, exerting strength neither knew he possessed in his frail shape. Charging at him, he began to hit and punch the man, much like a feral animal. The German stumbled back, his icy azure eyes trying to make sense of the scene before him. They then hardened as he lifted his hands and grabbed the Italian's wrists, causing the other to squirm and whimper in pain. Throwing him against the wall, Germany's voice grew cold and piercing, the same as his voice.

"How dare you do this to me?!" He shouted, staring down at the nation before him. "We are a team! You are not to hit me! I am your superior, your general! If you dare raise a hand against me ever again...I will gas you, and slaughter you like a common jew, as well as your people! DO YOU HEAR ME, ITALIEN?!" He fiercely spoke, his voice clipped.

Italy simply looked up at him, his now ruby red eyes boring into Germany's own. It was filled with such spite, such hate. Tears brimmed at the end, and he clenched his fists as his wrists began to bruise from the constriction. The look surprised the German, and unnerved him as well. Had he drove Italy to his breaking point?

Dropping his hands from the smaller male's wrists, he took a gloved hand to his face, a shuddering breath coming from him. Italy stared at him, before reaching behind his back, pulling out an object from his pocket. Suddenly, he charged once more, and proceeded to slash his knife at the man. Germany, in defense, and instinct, had pulled out a handgun. The gun, an Astra 900, quivered in his hands as his eyes shut closed. In his mind, this was no longer Italy. For the brief moment, this was an enemy of his. An enemy ready to kill him without another thought.

Soon, a loud shot was made,and another, and another. Soon, the body above his own slumped down. Falling back, Germany had dropped the handgun, and let out a frightened, held in breath. Gulping, he opened his eyes slowly. The sight made him want to reel back and hide in a corner. On top of him was Italy, his reddened eyes widened in shock. He stared at the bullet wounds in his chest and stomach before slumping off him, a sting of blood beginning to flow from his chin. The crimson liquid began to bloom on his dirty blue jacket as he laid on the wooden floor, a puddle forming around him. Blank eyes stared up at the ceiling as the Germany stared shock at his gloved hands, before back at the dying nation by his side. Scrambling to the body, he lifted his head, looking into his dulling vermilion orbs.

"Italy..." Germany breathed out, his eyes widened as he stared at the multiple wounds. Wounds that I made, He ruefully thought. Wounds that will kill Italy. Wounds that I inflicted on him.. It was at this moment he truly regretted everything he did. All the false, empty promises he made to Italy, all the times he struck him, all the times he'd lie to him.

"Italy! Italy! Italy, I'm so sorry...Please, don't..Don't leave me here! I beg of you! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do this..I..I-I.." The German soldier sobbed into the other's chest, his blood smearing onto his tear stained face.

"Germany's..a l-liar..." Italy coughed out, his venomous eyes staring up at him. "You...I curse you...You really are...A Nazi.." He spoke softly, raising a hand to touch his cheek. A bloody hand print formed, smearing as his hand slipped down. "I..was a fool...to care about you...someone who only...wants power...more than any..thing." He whispered.

The Germany he had known so long ago was dead. This one, this impostor, was not him. It was not his Germany. It wasn't his Ludwig.

Germany stared in shock at the cruel, yet true words of his former friend. It was solemnly true. Throughout this war, he had done nothing but crave power. He had slaughtered countless people in order to gain something unobtainable. He had tortured this man to make him something he could never be; him. He pushed Italy as far as he could go, and yet...He tried to do everything he had asked, down to the very detail. Yet, he never spoke out.

"Vorrei che... si potrebbe...avere... mantenuto la tua... prom..es..sa." Italy spoke in his native tongue, before his eyes dimmed in the light he always had, his life blood flowing out of him onto the German's hands. They pooled around him, and Germany's breath hitched.

"No.." He shuddered out. "No..Nien..Nein! Italien! Italien! Italien, wake up! That's an order! You're eyes are still open, dammit!" He shouted, shaking the corpse of the nation. Hot tears scorched his skin as he tried fruitlessly to revive his friend. He had been a horrible friend. A despicable person. It had become clear now. His cruel actions cost him. It was much more than that what he had been prepared to lose in the pursuit of power, though. He had never sought to lose his only friend.

"Italy..Forgive mich. Du warst right..You waren r-Recht. Ich war zu Macht durstig ... Aber please..Oh Gott, bitte. Nur .. Lassen Feliciano leben!"He cried out, sobbing loudly as he pleaded. But it was no use.

Feliciano Vargas, the personification of North Italy, was dead.

And Germany, his best friend, had been the one to blame.

Translations!

Oh Dio= "Oh God"

Mi Dispace = "I'm sorry"

non essere arrabbiato con me! ="Do not be mad at me!"

Ti amo = Italian for "I love you"

Ich liebe Dich = German for "I love you"

Vorrei che si potrebbe avere mantenuto la tua promessa. ="I wish you could have kept your promise"

Nein = "No"

mich. Du warst right..You waren r-Recht. Ich war zu Macht durstig . Aber Gott, bitte. Nur. Lassen Feliciano leben! = "Italy..Forgive me. You were right..You were r-right. I was thirsty for power ... But please..Oh God, please. Just .. Let Feliciano live!"

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