EDIT: Ayo, so I figured it was time to completely rewrite this atrocity of a first chapter, so here's the new and improved 2014 edited version. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia, blah blah blah, this is for entertainment purposes only, blah blah blah, please don't steal my work, blah blah blah…you guys know the drill.

A chilling sensation tinged my cheeks with the nip of ice cold water as I took a handful of it from the sink and splashed it across my face. Frigid droplets trickled down my face in determined streams, sliding down my neck and then down my chest. Steam had collected in packs against the mirror of the bathroom, coated in the condensation of fresh shower water; and when I wiped away the steam, I saw that my eyes had gotten much more dull since I lasted looked in the mirror. There was not a spark was left in them from their many eyes of being worn from tragedy. There never had been a spark in them in the first place. I huffed, taking a chuck of damp hair and shading it over my eyes. If anything, pale blond looked far more appealing than dull blue. Still though, it did not amount to how tired I had grown.

Now how could my parents be proud of somebody like me?

Today was a day I did not like to remember in great detail. After two years, though, I remembered it in vivid and impeccable detail, able to recall every moment from the darkened sky littered with flashing lights to the sounds of sirens screeching from miles away. Unlike my brother, I was old enough to remember such a thing, and with it came a sober wave of depression that I seldom felt in a situation where depression was something I couldn't afford to experience.

I ruffled my hair, running my fingers through it as I styled it to my pleasure. On the sink sat a little golden cross, one that I gently slid into the hair on the left side of my face that separated my bangs. My parents had given me when I was thirteen years old. They thought it would be great for keeping the hair out of my eyes, and it did. People thought I looked like a girl with it in, having hair that went clear past my shoulders. I sighed, wrapping the towel tighter around my waist as I exited the bathroom. I tied my wet hair into a short ponytail. It really was getting long at this point, wasn't it?

Across the hall, a calendar hung on the wall, one with Icelandic horses on it upon Emil's request that we buy it. The date that been circled thoroughly with a streaky red marker, and my stomach began to churn as I realized this would be the first time I would be bringing him with me in our annual December 14th tradition.

I sighed hard as I stood outside the door, knowing what was to come next.

"Emil, can I come in? Have you dressed yourself yet?" I asked, tapping on the door lightly. I was almost nervous about doing this. Maybe he didn't remember. I hoped he didn't remember.

"Yeah, I'm all dressed. You can come in, big brother." Emil had mellow, yet cheerful voice to him, something you wouldn't see often in a four year old. I wondered how he could be so cheerful at times think these, thinking how two years ago I couldn't even fathom a smile, let alone a laugh. The perks of being young, I figured.

I stepped into the room, only to see Emil sitting on the floor, ramming his toy trucks together whilst making obnoxious sound effects. Typical for an average child. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he put down he trucks and smiled. They were the exact same shade of blue as mine before I had grown tired.

"Hi Lukey," he said happily. I wasn't particularly fond of the nickname he had given me, but I let it slide, with him only being a child who didn't know any better than to call me what he wanted to.

"Hey Emil," I started, swallowing hard. "Do you—know what today is?"

My little brother tipped his head to the side slightly, bewildered, and looked over at the horse calendar hanging up on the wall in the hallway. "It's December 14th," he said, still confused.

I nodded. "Right, but do you know what we get to do on December 14th?"

Emil stalled for a moment, thinking, before his face lit up and he smiled. "We get to see Mommy and Daddy today!"

My stomach dropped at those words, and I felt my hands suddenly go numb and shaky. I didn't expect him to remember.

"Yeah, that's right. We get to see Mommy and Daddy today," I replied shakily, feeling the lump in my throat begin to grow. He had no idea what was to come.

I realized I was still in my towel. "I'm going to go get dressed. You stay in here and get your coat on and we'll go, alright?"

The child nodded, putting away his toy trucks while carrying his stuffed Puffin, whom he appropriately named Mr. Puffin, in his mouth. He really loved that Puffin a lot. After he was born, our parents had given it to him to play with. Even as tattered and torn and nasty as it was now, he still carried with him everywhere, and he loved the thing half to death.

I had to smile at that; at his innocence, as I walked out of his room and into mine. I threw on an old, navy blue long-sleeved shirt, and put on a clean pair of jeans and boxers. I hadn't noticed I had started to cry until I looked in the mirror again, my face damp with what was either droplets of water from my shower, or actual tears. Sighing, I wiped them away before releasing a long, somber sigh.

I can't act like this. I have to be strong for Emil so that he isn't sad as well and put on my best optimistic act, I thought, zipping up a thick, dark jacket. I wrapped an old cream scarf around my neck, and walked out the door. But it isn't going to be even close to easy…

Emil was already standing outside my door when I walked out, coat on with Mr. Puffin wrapped in his arms and a soft smile on his face.

"I'm ready," he chirped, his voice lisping as he clutched on to his precious Puffin even harder. I chucked slightly. He never did learn how to say his "r's" quite right.

I gave him a faint smile, picking him up as he wrapped his arms around me tight to prevent from falling. "Alright, we'll go then," I told him. "But make sure you're warm enough. I don't want you catching a cold out there. It's almost below zero degrees Celsius today."

"I'll be ok, Lukey. Mr. Puffin will keep me warm," The boy claimed innocently, holding the old stuffed animal in my face in prove his point.

I could only smile at that, despite being a little bit disgusted by the old Puffin. "Alright, but if you get sick you only brought it upon yourself." I replied playful, wrapping my scarf around him and kissing him lightly on the top of the head. Emil needed that scarf more than I did.

With that, we walked out the door with him in my arms, a gust of icy wind brushing against our faces as I opened it. He buried his face in my chest in block out the cold, and I smiled as we continued walking. The kid really could be cute at times.

Even as it was near freezing, we were still forced to walk to our destination. It wasn't too far, and I could stand the cold easily from having lived in Oslo my whole life. Emil had gotten used to it, as well, after having to come with me everywhere for two years despite the temperature outside.

Two years ago, I decided I was responsible enough, and vowed to take care of my little brother to prevent from being separated from him. Thus, to afford the money I needed, we were forced to sell our car to be able to pay for our food and shelter. I dropped out of school, and when I wasn't working I was taking care of Emil, making sure that when I was gone he was under the watchful eye of our neighbors.

A light snow fell as we walked, fresh snow crunching from beneath me. Emil opened his eyes, smiling at me as his eyelashes fluttered against the snow. He stuck out his tongue, catching a flake on it and giggling as it melted. The boy looked up at me once more, wanting me to do the same, and I followed his lead by sticking my tongue out and letting a cluster of soft flakes dissolve onto it.

It made me happy to see him the way he was, so joyful and carefree. It was my duty to protect him, and I'd do it at all costs, even if that meant putting my own well-being in danger. I couldn't risk being separated from him, not now when he was still so young and I was finally learning to move on. Yet since I was still only sixteen, our neighbors came to check on us every once in a while, making sure we were alright. I didn't know any of my other relatives other than my dead grandparents, so it was either take care of my little brother on my own or become a foster child. But I really didn't mind at all, actually. Emil was like the little flame that kept me going every day. As long as he was happy, I was happy too.

As we trudged along, I found myself humming the soft melody I knew by heart. It was a sweet song, one that my parents used to sing to me when I was little, and that I would sing to my little brother on some occasions. Emil began at making an attempt to hum along too. He turned back to me after tasting a few more snowflakes on his tongue, smiling, and nuzzled closer to my chest. I could tell he was getting cold by his slight shivering, yet I was as well, so I had to give him credit. It had been so long since I had been to the cemetery that I wasn't for certain how many blocks away it was.

Just then, over the horizon, I could see it- a single headstone, then three more, and then finally over twenty. I cracked a slight smile seeing all those headstones, feeling that lump grow even stronger and more powerful at their sight. We were here.

"Emil, we're here," I told him softly, and he looked up to see where exactly we were. He began to smile and jumped down from my grip, running toward the graves to begin his search. It wasn't very often he got to see his mom and dad. I didn't get to either, though, and I was nervous. It had been a year since I had been here, two years for my brother.

"Lukey, where's Mommy and Daddy?" he asked me, turning with a curious gaze in his eyes. I turned sad at that, the smile I had gained from his excitement disappearing behind a solid frown, Emil could see this, and he too began to develop a frown. Today wasn't exactly as "happy" time for us.

"Come here, Emil. They're right over here."

Emil nodded, grabbing onto my hand tight and walking with me toward the two headstones.

I had memorized those graves by now, even if it was once a year that I got to see them up close, but I always saw them whenever I would walk into town. And as we reached them, the pain came flooding back as Emil's frown shifted into something much more haunting: a smile. He didn't know.

Aleksander Bondevik.

November 18th, 1968-December 14th, 2008.

Death by fatal car accident.

He will always be loved.

Our father's grave.

Elina Bondevik

May 7th, 1970-December 14th, 2008.

Death by fatal car accident.

She will always be love.

Our mother's grave.

/(EDIT ENDS HERE.)

Emil fell to his knees, dusting off the grave gently as he scooted toward it. It was as painful watching him as it was building up the strength not to cry.

"Hi Mommy, hi Daddy, "he whispered. When he saw me crying, he started to cry as well. I was surprised he actually knew what all of this meant, as he was still so young and even younger when our parents died.

I had explained to him what had happened, telling him all kinds of stories about our mom and dad, and what gravestones even were. And as he saw their names on those stones I felt he had gotten the message. "I hope you're doing ok in Heaven. I miss you." He held onto both of the stones, trying to hug them, and I stifled a sob in the back of my throat. More than anything, the most agonizing thing was watching my brother in pain, rather an experiencing my own pain.

"Lukey…are Mommy and Daddy coming back?" he asked shakily, sniffling in the process.

That's when the bullet of the day finally pierced into my heart.

I shook my head. "No, Emil, they're not coming back."

The child's eyes grew even sadder an desperate, and two more frozen tears streamed down his face. "But why not? Why aren't they coming back, Lukas?" He let out an involuntary sob as he began pulling on the hem of my pants in desperation.

Lukas. He only used that name, my real name, whenever he was being serious. And right now, he was the most serious I had ever seen him. What would it take for me to be able to explain such a thing to a child? How could I tell him that our parents wouldn't be coming back?

I couldn't take the grief any longer. "Because they're gone, Emil. They died a long time ago. They can't come back, brother, I'm sorry." I choked out the words, my voice cracking as I let out silent sobs.

I fell to my knees, plopping into the snow as they had finally given out from shaking, and lowered my head. Uncontrollable sobs escaped, and hot tears rushed down my face, numb from the cold.. "I'm sorry, Emil…"

I had failed. I was weak.

Moments later, I felt something fall against my body gently, and I looked up only to see a saddened Emil hugging me.

"It's not your fault, brother. Mean people made them die. Please don't cry, Lukas. If you cry then I'll cry, too," he consoled, squeezing me tighter as his voice shook and he began to cry harder.

I hadn't failed. I wasn't weak. We had each other.

"Thank you, Emil," I whispered as I hugged him back, pulling him close and holding him tight, sobbing quietly with him.

And with that, we held onto each other in front of our mother's grave and our father's grave, sobbing in unison and carefully whispering comfort to each other.

"Lukey, what were Mommy and Daddy like?" Emil asked him as I tucked him into his bed. He looked so sweet and innocent.

I sighed, trying to remember even what my mother and father were exactly. After all, it had been two years. "Well, Emil…they were very nice people, and they cared about us a lot. All they wanted was for us to be happy and safe, and to live a good life. You'll understand when you're older.

Emil nodded, pausing for a moment before he thought of his next question to ask me. "Was Mommy pretty?"

I looked down at him, and smiled. I knew that question well enough to answer it, and the answer was always pleasant to me. I looked just like my mother.

"Yes, she was very pretty. Mom was Norwegian, and Dad was Icelandic."

I ruffled his hair a bit. "You look just like Dad, and I look just like Mom. I can tell you're going to grow up looking just as handsome as Dad was."

The boy giggled, his pudgy cheeks reddening as I poked them gently.

"And I bet you'll be as pretty as mommy!"

I chuckled at him, kissing him gently on the forehead, and then wished him good night. "Good night, Emil. I'll see you in the morning." I said, walking towards the door as I turned off the light.

Just as my hand reached the handle, he spoke again. "Wait, Lukey. Can you sing me that song Mommy and Daddy always used to sing to me? The one that you were humming today?"

Turning around back around, I looked at him, seeing that smile pleading for a song. I sighed. "Where is this coming from, Emil? I haven't sung to you since you were a baby."

"But I want you to sing to me now."

"You know I can't sing.

"Yes you can, I hear you all the time through the bathroom! You have a really pretty voice. Please, Lukey, just one song," he begged.

My cheeked reddened at his words, and although I knew he meant well, I was still embarrassed. I had sung in a choral ensemble at my school before I dropped out to take care of my brother, and I hadn't sung anything in year. Nevertheless, I gave in, walking back to sit on the side of his bed.

"Ok, fine, I'll sing you one song. But only one, then you have to go to bed, ok?"

Emil, perking up as he waited like an anxious puppy to hear the song.

I took in a deep breath, and began to sing. "Du er min sol, min eneste solskinn. Du gjør meg glad når himmelen er grå~. Du vet aldri kjære, hvor mye jeg elsker deg. Så vennligst ikke ta mitt solskinn unna~," I whispered, placing one last gentle kiss on his forehead as I realized the song had made him fall asleep. "Good night, Emil. I love you."

With that, I exited the room quietly, smiling to myself as I left, and whispered as I walked down the hall. "Good night, Mom and Dad. I miss you guys."

It wasn't until I had opened the door to my room that I realized I was crying again.

A/N: Yep. I'm going back and re-editing chapters 1-14. Finally got myself a decent translator so any language errors will be fixed as I continue editing.

Don't worry, no significant plot changes will be made, as I'm going back to primarily fix the writing done by my fourteen-year-old self and to tweak up a few characters issues that have been bothering me for a while. In short, Lukas isn't going to be such a whiny little bitch. Please be patient with my editing, as chapter 18 will not be up until after everything is up to date. Thanks, y'all.