This is a litte vent fic I did.
Raivis/Eduard, suicide D:
First part is Raivis' POV
My hands were cold, frozen; I was shaking, I was trembling; tears were building up in my eyes. I felt cold, I felt broken, I felt miserable. But what's new about that? I was always crying, and I was always trembling. I'm just a weak, pathetic, stupid, naïve child. I don't know anything about anything, I just do as I'm told, and no-one cares. Nobody cares about me.
Not even you, after everything I've tried to do for you. You just ignore me, you belittle me, you abandon me, because I'm not worth your time. I'm just a waste of space, a waste of energy; I'm just a pathetic, trembling, weak mess. I'll never achieve anything on my own, I'll never achieve anything.
My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked down the long, empty hallway. I knew what I had to do; I knew where I was going. I knew, for the first time in my life, what I was doing. I knew what had to be done. For the first time in my life, I could finally do something useful, all by myself.
I remember walking past you and Toris. Toris looked at me, concerned. It was probably because of my sad, yet determined expression, like I'd made my mind up about something … if only you knew. You, however, you just glanced at me, before dismissing me and looking away, continuing to walk past me.
"Raivis, are you okay?" Toris asked me, his voice quiet. I looked up at him, as you looked back over your shoulder.
"I'm sure he's fine," you dismissed.
"Eduard…," Toris sighed.
I turned to face you. And I glared at you. I glared at you with all the hatred, disgust, pain and anguish I could summon. Your eyes widened slightly, yet noticeably, as you stood on the receiving end of an expression no-one thought I was ever psychically possible of. Toris noticed this too, the concern in your voice only growing more frantic.
"Raivis? Raivis, is something wrong?"
I looked back at Toris. I was tired, so very tired, so worn out, so sick of this. "It's nothing," I replied. My voice sounded quiet, weak, pathetic; just like it always did. Toris was unbelieving, but you just dismissed;
"Obviously he's not going to tell us. C'mon Toris, let's get those jobs done before Russia gets back,"
Toris glanced at me again, as I switched my gaze to the ground. I heard him sigh, before saying "If you need anything, Raivis, just come and ask, okay?" And then you turned and walked away with Eduard.
I watched you and Toris walk away, until you turned a corner and went out of my sight. Then I continued walking, down the hall, toward Russia's study.
Usually I hate being anywhere that Russia might be, I'm scared of him, and I have good reason to be. But he isn't the reason I've decided on what I have to do. No, he isn't the one who broke my heart, he's not the one who broke me, he's not the one who shattered me, he's not the one who shot me down, he's not the one who abandoned me.
At least Russia actually showed some sort of human emotion toward me, even if it was in his own, rather unique way. Unlike you, Eduard, you … you bastard.
I pushed open the dark, wooden door and entered the small room. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuff with books and files, and in the centre of the room was a wooden desk, piled with papers, folders and more books, with what looked like a half written report. But that wasn't of any importance to me.
Once whilst cleaning in here, I stumbling across something that Russia later told me he always kept in this room, in that specific drawer. It was always there, it was always ready, just in case. I guess you can't be too safe.
I walked around the desk, lost in thought the entire time. I wonder how everyone would react; I wonder how you'd react, Eduard. I wondered … But it's not like I would ever know, not like I would ever find out. Not that I really cared.
I started shaking again, as my hand reached out and grasped the cold, metal handle of the top draw. I pulled it open, pushed some papers aside, and found what I was looking for—the gun that Russia always kept there, just in case.
I picked it up, finding it slightly heavier than I expected. But I'd never held a gun before; I still knew how to shoot one, after seeing so many people shoot down enemies in wars and other battles.
For the first time in my life, I couldn't cry. I just couldn't cry. I felt something tighten in my chest, a strange, unnatural feeling overcame me—it felt like I was going to start laughing. But I didn't know why. I managed to hold it back for the most part, lest someone hear me and come to investigate. The most that I ended up doing was smiling. I felt kind of like Russia, smiling that creepy, I-know-something-you-don't smile.
I pushed the barrel of the cold gun against my temple, my trembling stopping, tears still refusing to fall, the unnatural urge to laugh hysterically still pushing, still trying to release itself. I wanted to laugh. This will make you pay, make you pay for everything you've put me through.
I'm in love with you, Eduard. I love you so much; you're all I have to hold onto. And yet you ignore me, you ridicule me, you torment me, you shoot me down, you kill me.
You kill me.
Without a second thought, I pulled the trigger. Finally, I was free. Finally, I had no more pain, no more anguish; I was no longer tormented by you. I was free.
You broke me, you shattered my heart, you kill me.
You've killed me.
It's all your fault, Eduard.