Crimson, what the halibut are you doing writing a new story when you've got so many others that are unfinished? What is wrong with you?
Don't know, gais, don't ask. This idea came to me just last night and I decided to throw it out there and see what you all thought. Please let me know if I should continue. Now, mind you, I'm still working hard on the Midnight Series. This story will be updated when at least one chapter for Midnight's Atonement and Midnight's Promise have been posted. Sound good?
Do I love torturing the characters in my stories? Especially Antonio and Lovino? They're my OTP. Whatever goes on in this wicked head of mine, good or bad, revolves around them. /shot
Happy reading~
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warnings: Death, blood, violence, and language.
Prologue
He knew he was going to die.
That much was certain.
His punctured heart thundered in his chest and in his ears, weakening to nothing but a dull roar. He rasped and put pressure on the gaping hole in his chest to try and slow death's advance over him as she whispered her cool breath down his neck. Blood seeped through the crevices of his fingers, turning his shirt into an unforgiving red. The pain had numbed considerably but he struggled to maintain his hold on that. It was the only thing keeping him in reality—in the world of the living.
"Antonio w-would be so… fucking pissed off at me for g-giving up so e-easily…" he let out a low and bitter chuckle, swallowing the blood rising in his throat.
He fell limp against the wall he had managed to crawl towards by using the last of his stolen strength. Another breath of frigid air traversed over him, kissing him softly, beckoning him to the darkness that so desperately wanted to claim him. It promised him comfort. It promised him an escape.
The blue flowers Antonio had gotten for him stared at him forlornly, silent spectators, and its fallen petals trickled down like tears.
Forest green eyes slipped shut.
His chest rose once…
Twice…
A third time…
And then no more.
Lovino Vargas was dead.