*Please note that I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia*

"Germany? Germany...!" The screams could be heard from three blocks away. In an alley, a small Italian knelt over a large blond man. The hole in the fabric over his heart and the pool of blood he lay in told the story.

"I-Italy..." he tried to say.

"It'll be o-okay, Germany, I promise!" Italy said frantically.

"No... I- ugh!" he winced, "I just want you to... know that I... always... loved... you..." the German said with his dying breath as he closed his eyes and slipped into eternal slumber. Not long afterwards, England and America came racing around the corner, having heard the noise, in time to see Feliciano slumped over Ludwig's body, wailing.

"Italy!" exclaimed England, "What happened?" Sobbing, the tiny brunette could only point down the alleyway at a figure, cloaked in shadows, racing away, prompting America to give chase screaming,

"Don't worry, I'm the hero, I'll catch him!" Arthur watched Alfred sprint off, then placed a consoling arm around Italy's shoulders.

"...don't..." the small man mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" England asked, leaning in closer.

"I said don't touch me!" Italy screamed, shoving him away and glaring at England with more hatred than Belarus on a bad day.

"...I-Italy..." the Brit said, backing away in surprise. Just as suddenly as it had happened, the Italian's outburst had ended and returned to grieving over his lover's corpse, now with and eerie aura surrounding him, causing England to become uneasy and turn away with his phone to call a meeting. America soon returned, panting.

"I *gasp* I couldn't catch him! *wheeze*" England looked over at him and raised a thick eyebrow at his slight paunch, causing him to blush and turn away to look at Italy, who was still sobbing wretchedly.

"Aah, Italy, if you want, you could come stay at my house until the funeral arrangements-" the American managed to mumble before being cut off. "No. I don't need your help," the brunette said through his tears.

"I'll take care of it myself, so just go," he said, wiping his eyes and nose on his cuff, pulling out his cell phone, and dialing his brother, Lovino. "H-hello, Romano? Yeah, it's me. L-listen," he said, struggling not to cry, "I need you to g-get Spain and your truck and get over here. I'm o-over in an alleyway near Austria's house. And b-bring blankets if you c-could..." he sniffed. "Oh, why? W-well... Germany's d-dead..."

And then his shoulders began to shake, and he wept.