trigger warnings for this fic include non-con, abuse, suicide attempts and self harm. do not read this if you are triggered by any of these things. this was written for a friend who requested it. i know these are very delicate subjects and i tried to treat them respectfully. if i have failed i offer my sincerest apologies and if anyone wants me to i will take this down upon request.

a side note- prussia is only ever referred to as prussia because this is told from lovino's point of view and he refuses to regard him as even slightly human anymore.


"Useless!" Prussia hissed, his open palm connecting once again with the side of Lovino's face, sending the other to the floor.

(Careless, he's not holding back tonight)

Usually he only hit him in places where no one would see the bruises. Prussia almost never hit him on the face. He must be really angry or really drunk. Most likely both. Lovino couldn't even remember what he had done wrong. His head was reeling from the impact, and he could barely think straight. One thought permiated through the haze, however.

Why had he ever gotten in a relationship with this bastard?

Oh. Right. It had been to make Antonio jealous. And partially to get back at Ludwig for dating his little brother. But, it hadn't seemed to have any effect on him. He and Feliciano were still as happy as ever.

(Goddamn lucky bastard no I can't say that about him just because he found someone he loves that's cruel oh fuck it I don't care)

How he wished to have a love like that...

"Look at me!" a rough, heavily accented voice spat out, sharp fingernails digging into Romano's chin as he was forced to look the monster in the eyes.

(Red, deep red, red as my own blood that's spilling across the carpet rough against my knees)

Lovino didn't speak, didn't shout, didn't fight back. He had learned long ago that doing that only got him beat worse. Rough lips crashed against his own in a bruising kiss, one that was full of hatred and cold lust.

(Do it, do it, go ahead hurt me now you know you want to you're sick)

It disgusted Lovino, and it took all he had not to pull away and throw up right then and there.

Lovino couldn't believe that he had thought for a second that this man might have made a good partner. He was nothing but a steel-hearted killer, hardened by his many wars. Sure, every nation had their fair share of dark moments. Take Ludwig for example. He had one of the darkest times in history under his belt, and he wasn't beating up on Feliciano.

(My baby brother, fratellino loves me right he doesn't want to hurt me no he's not sick)

Prussia was just as insane as Russia. The only difference was he had gotten so good at hiding it.

Prussia muttered something in German, pushing Lovino to the floor. When had he allowed things to go this far? When had he decided to just sit back and let this man slowly kill him, day by day?

(Because I'm sick he's sick we're all fucking sick)

The world twisted sickeningly, and he was on his stomach.

(It's time now, better ready yourself)

He knew what was coming next, and it would not be pleasant. There were about fifteen seconds for Lovino to mentally prepare himself, before pain overloaded his mind, causing him to almost black out. Just almost.

He still felt it all, every sharp stab of pain that raced up his spine, rattling his skull, making him want to scream until his throat was raw, and grasp at the floor until his nails were broken and his fingers bloodied. It felt like he was being split in half with a grapefruit spoon.

(You'd prefer that now wouldn't you)

Calloused fingers raked down his side, leaving angry red trails in their wake as Lovino convulsed in pain. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He bit down on the carpet to muffled the shrieks of agony that leaked out of his mouth.

Lovino knew there was a difference between sex and making love. Of course he knew that, he was Italian for fuck's sake. He just wasn't quite sure what it was. Prussia had been the one to take his virginity, but that was exactly what he did, take it.

(Forcefully, so forcefully God he's sick sick sick)

That time had been so much more agonizing that Lovino didn't even have words for it. And every time after that, it was always unwilling, always painful, always just about Prussia getting what he wanted. This time wasn't any better, but at least he knew what to expect.

Lovino could barely breathe, his entire world red with pain. Nothing else that Prussia did before this could ever compare to how much it just plain hurt.

(Pain, pain, pain, blood, blood, blood, God it's getting repetitive)

It not only hurt his body, but his mind too. Prussia knew just how to make him feel like the most worthless piece of garbage that ever had the displeasure of appearing on the face of the earth, and oh, he did it so well.

He knew just where to hit, too. The old battle wound on his lower back, that still ached from time to time? He hit that with a broom handle on several occasions. Any old bruises left over from past beatings? They weren't old for long. His right knee, which he had dislocated during the second Italian War? That had been popped out of place at least four times in the last few months.

A rush, and it was over. Prussia was gone, and Lovino was left lying on the ground, unable to move with the amount of pain he was in.

(More pain, a rough carpet not just on my knees damn this bastard)

It hadn't always been like this. There had been a time when Prussia had actually been kind to him. He put up with Lovino's constantly pissy mood, laughed when he called him bastard, and kissed him sweetly, with all the love in the world behind it.

(Fake an act a charade any other damn synonym)

Lovino thought for a time that he might actually be falling in love with him.

Then, everything took a nosedive for the worse.

(90 degrees baby boy all the way)

It had started with shouting.

(It always does doesn't it)

It had surprised Lovino a bit, but, Prussia was German. What could he expect? He could hear that potato bastard yelling all the way at China's house.

Then the hitting began. It was just small slaps at first, when Lovino did something annoying or wrong.

(I was always annoying I was always wrong)

The first one shocked him so terribly that he couldn't do anything for a minute or two. Just stand there with a stunned look on his face, as Prussia glared at him. All Lovino had done was spill a little tomato sauce on his shirt.

(Clumsy little shit you're clumsy and sick)

Whenever Prussia had begun shouting, it startled him so much that he ended up dropping the glass bowl that contained the rest of the sauce, splattering it all over the tile floor. Another stinging slap had been delivered to his cheek, and it only got worse from there.

A soft padding sound brought Lovino out of his reverie. It steadily grew louder, closer. Someone was coming.

It wasn't Prussia.

(Dear God thank you)

No, the steps were too light for that. It couldn't be Ludwig either. There was only one other person that might be at Germany's house this late.

"Fratello?" a soft voice spoke.

Feliciano.

Romano wanted to get up, wanted to move, to shout at his brother that he was fine, and to go away, but he just didn't have the strength anymore. He had been feigning invincibility for years, even before Prussia had started beating him.

(Beating me to a pulp on this goddamn rough carpet soaked in my red red blood red like his fucking monstrous eyes)

The façade he had worked so hard to keep up was crumbling away, slipping through his fingers like sand, and he was powerless to stop it. The door creaked open a sliver, and a curious brown eye peered through at him in all his broken, bloodied, bruised glory.

(I must look so weak)

A loud gasp sounded out, and the door flew open, creaking slightly on the old hinges. Feliciano rushed to his brother's side. He moved Romano up from his face-down position on the floor, helping him lean against Prussia's bed.

(Pain, a blinding flash, but at least the rough carpet isn't scratching against my bare skin anymore)

Feliciano winced when Lovino hissed, his face twisted up in a pain-filled grimace. Without saying a word, Feliciano grabbed a blanket from the bed and gingerly laid it over his brother. He knelt down, and looked Lovino dead in the eyes.

(Red red brown light brown full of light my sweet fratellino)

"Did he do this to you?" he whispered. They both knew who 'he' was.

(the sick monster with the sick red eyes not brown not my Feliciano)

Feliciano had been suspecting that something was going on for a while. Being the technical 'other half' of Lovino, he could tell when something was wrong. But Lovino hadn't acted any different, he made sure of it, and Feliciano had assumed that his brother would tell him if anything was wrong. Prussia had always been rather nice to him, but he suspected that was only because Ludwig was in love with him.

Lovino could only nod. The tears that had been welling up in Feliciano's eyes spilled over. Lovino resisted the urge to burst into tears too.

(Strong I have to stay strong keep the little bit of pride I have left fuck it I want to cry Goddammit)

He hated himself for making his brother cry. Feliciano was one of the few bright things in his life. His happiness was something he could cling to, ground himself with. Without it, he felt like he was floating away, as if the strings that had been anchoring him to this world were slowly loosening with every tear that slipped out of those light brown eyes.

"You know I have to tell someone, right?" Feliciano said solemnly, all the usual cheerfulness gone from his voice.

Lovino's eyes widened.

No.

"You can't!" he ordered hysterically.

(Don't tell never tell don't tell never tell DONT TELL NEVER TELL)

"I have to! I can't just sit back knowing my brother is being hurt like this!" Feliciano argued back. Lovino wanted to scream in frustration. How could he think his brother would possibly understand? That he couldn't ever tell anyone, or Prussia would kill him, and whoever he told.

(Good excuse)

Now, Nations are not human, therefore very hard to get rid of. But not impossible. And, if anyone would know how to kill a nation, it was Prussia.

(Sick bastard with a sick mind full of sick things that make me sick)

Lovino knew Prussia wouldn't do anything to Feliciano. He wouldn't hurt Ludwig like that.

(Not his brother not his own little brother not even Prussia)

And, knowing Feliciano, the first person he would run to would be Ludwig. Again, not much worry there. It was the next person he would tell that made Lovino so afraid.

Antonio.

Lovino couldn't let anything happen to Antonio. He would rather live with Prussia for the rest of his life. Rather die.

(Shit, I've wanted to die for a year)

Feliciano saw this in his brother's eyes.

"Don't, Feli. Please don't." Lovino begged, silent tears slipping out of his eyes.

(Salt in my wounds, more screaming pain)

Feliciano had never seen his brother like this. So helpless and afraid... It made him want to find Prussia, and smash his face in. But he was weak, and scared, unable to help even his brother when he needed it so much. He felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him, but pushed it away. Lovino needed him.

"Okay. I won't tell." Feliciano promised, grasping his brother's hand tightly.

(Feli it hurts but don't let go never let go please God)

He would keep Lovino's secret for him, if it was the last thing he did.


"Lovi~, time to wake up~!" a cheery voice sing-songed as Antonio knocked a light pattern on Lovino's bedroom door. Lovino groaned. It was way too early to deal with Antonio's sunny nature. He rolled over in his-

Ow!

Why did that hurt...?

Oh. Right. Prussia.

(Sick sick sick sick sick)

Last night, Feliciano had helped him home to Antonio's house after he felt like he could move without screaming.

(Bastard I can't believe I have to still live with you I'm in love with you)

Feliciano had made him promise to call the next morning so they could talk things over. Lovino knew that Feliciano wouldn't be able to keep his promise, and that it was selfish of him to ask. No one else should be burdened with a secret like this.

He knew he wasn't going to call.

Another couple of knocks sounded from the door.

Great. How was he going to explain this to Antonio? The beating he had taken last night was particularly bad, and he was running out of excuses.

(Excuses, excuses, better find one quick baby boy don't want that nasty secret getting out)

"Lovi?" The Spaniard peeked his head into the room. Luckily, Lovino had pulled his comforter up over his head at the last second, hiding his injuries.

(Hide from him just like that)

"Go away, asshole." Lovino mumbled into his pillow. He hoped his voice didn't sound as weak as he thought it did.

(Of course it does who am I kidding)

"What's wrong, mi querido?" Antonio asked in that concerned, Boss-Spain voice he used to use when Lovino was young, pushing the door open further and stepping into the room. That voice that made Lovino want to punch him in the face, and at the same time hug him tight and never let go.

(Gimme a kiss baby oh god what's wrong with me)

"Nothing's wrong! And I said go away!" Lovino growled, burying himself deeper in his blanket when Antonio knelt down beside his bed. He knew that he was lying through his teeth, however. He wanted nothing more than for Antonio to crawl in bed with him, wrap him up in a tight hug, and keep him there forever, magically making all his worries and troubles disappear.

(That'll work keep telling yourself that)

But, he had chosen Prussia.

"Do you not feel good, Lovi?" Antionio asked sympathetically, like he would when Lovino was a child. He set a reassuring hand on the Italian's covered shoulder. The pressure irritated the bruise situated there, but at the same time it was such a pleasant thing to have someone care about him and not want to injure him in some way.

(Tense up, brace for the sting it never comes)

He wanted to grab Antonio, pull him close, and sob out all his pain.

(Cry it all away but don't tell)

But, since that would let the Spaniard know something was definitely wrong, he knocked his hand away from under the blanket.

(Dont touch me don't hurt me don't tell)

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Antonio asked.

Silence.

Lovino wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell every one of the nations, and watch as that bastard Prussia got what he deserved.

(Rip his heart out, make him eat it, sick sick sick sick)

But he couldn't. Still, he wanted to more than anything in the world.

So, he nodded his head.

Antonio noticed this, and after thinking a while on how to word his next question, he figured out what he wanted to say.

"... Can you tell me?" he asked softly. Lovino paused for a second.

(Don't tell never tell)

He shook his head.

Lovino wanted to tell him... But he couldn't... What did that mean? It had to be something bad. Otherwise, his poco de tomate wouldn't be hiding from him like this. It wasn't right. Something was definitely off, and he wanted immediatly to fix whatever it was. But first, he would have to know what it was.

Antonio grasped the corner of the comforter, pulling it back slowly with a shaking hand, to reveal Lovino's face.

(It's all over baby boy your dirty little secret has been told)

And oh, his face...

Antonio had to bite back a gasp when he saw the large, fresh, purplish bruise on his cheek. As he pulled the blanket back further, more and more bruises appeared on his bare skin, some old and almost gone, some brand-new and barely formed. There were many scars littering the Italian's skin, a particularly nasty one running from the top of his left shoulder, diagonally down his chest and stomach, stopping at his right hip. The same hand that had pulled the covers back reached out, still trembling, to trace over the pinkish-tan indentation in Lovino's skin. Antonio instantly grew furious. Someone was hurting his Lovi, and he had a pretty damn good idea who.

"I'll kill the cabrón..." Antonio muttered to himself. His anger subsided, however, when he saw that Lovino was crying.

(Let it all out now the salt won't sting anymore)

"Don't cry, Lovi! Please, don't cry." Antonio spoke. "Does it hurt?" he asked, brushing his fingertips across the bruise on Lovino's cheek.

(Prussia Prussia sick sick Antonio God Antonio)

"Of course it hurts, che cazzo!" Lovino shouted, reverting back to his usual self for a moment as he sat up, glaring as he batted Antonio's hand away.

(Don't stop touching me never stop)

His glare softened a few seconds later, however, when he realized that it would do no good to push away one of the only people he actually cared about. "But that's not why I was crying."

(It was because the salt doesn't sting)

Antonio moved to sit beside Lovino on the bed.

(Closer, just a little closer you're not sick)

"I'm so sorry he did this to you..." Antonio whispered, gently pulling Lovino into a hug.

(Tighter, tighter, hurt me, you're sick)

The pain brought on by the embrace was buried underneath piles of emotion, as Lovino tucked his head underneath Antonio's chin, sobbing for all it was worth.

(There you go baby boy, cry to your Boss they're all sick)

Every time Prussia had hit him, every scar on his body, every ounce of pain he had felt in these past couple of years, all of it poured out of his eyes in the form of salty tears.

(It doesn't sting)

At some point in time between after he had started crying, and before he stopped, the sobs turned into screams. Loud, shuddering shrieks that Lovino didn't even know he was capable of doing. He felt embarrassed to be sounding like this in front of Antonio, but that feeling fell flat when he realized how relieving it was to finally scream.

"I'll make him pay for this. I swear." Antonio murmured into Lovino's hair once the screams subsided, kissing him softly on the top of the head. Lovino only tightened his hold on the Spaniard, weeping harder.

(Squeeze me crush me you know you want to he's sick you're all sick)

For this gesture was not one passed between lovers, but friends. Lovino desperately wished they could be so, so much more.

(I love him I loved Prussia Prussia is sick Antonio)

He didn't know if Antonio returned his feelings, but for right now he could pretend that he did.

(Pretend the salt doesn't sting)


Lovino bit his lip, angling the razor so that when he swept it across his skin, it would slice straight through the tanned flesh. He hissed slightly when the sharp metal initiated the cut, but the flash of pain melted away, leaving only a feeling of relief behind as his blood flowed out of the injury.

(Blood it's red like his eyes don't look)

It was kind of strange, really. When he hurt himself, Lovino felt better, relieved. But when Prussia hit him, it made him feel agonized, like he was the only person in the universe that hurt like this.

When Prussia wasn't there to do it himself, Lovino took it into his own hands. A sort of poetic justice, if you will.

(everyone wants to hurt me they all hate me)

He was so used to cutting himself that the motions were always swift, practiced, and precise. Just deep enough that bright red blood would well up to the surface, and the cut would sting for days after

That, however, was not his objective at this moment.

He had dragged two of the only people in the world that he loved into this, when it was all his problem, no one else's. It was his fault that Prussia hurt him, it was his fault that Feliciano had genuinely cried for one of the only times in his life. It was his fault that Antonio was so upset over him. Everything was his fault, and they would all be so much better off without him. So, he had written a note for the people he cared about, and had decided to fix the problem once and for all.

The blade dug deeper than ever before, red gushing down his arm.

(pain and red they match so well maybe that's why his eyes are that color)

Lovino was beginning to get a little lightheaded. He didn't like the feeling, but knew that it would all be better in a bit. It would all be better once he was gone. Prussia would never hurt him again, Feliciano would have Ludwig to help him get over it, and Antonio was only his friend. So what if he was in love with him? It's not like his feelings were reciprocated.

(he doesn't love me he'll never love me how could he love me he just feels sorry for me because I'm sick)

"Lovi, I-" Antonio stopped as he walked into the bathroom. Lovino was leaning over the sink, his left wrist slashed once and bleeding into the drain, with the blade still settled on his arm, ready to slice through the skin again.

(another secret's been told)

'Shit, I thought I locked that.' Lovino mentally cursed himself. He dropped the razor, and it clattered against the marble of the sink. It was the only sound, the loud 'cl-clink' noise echoing in both their ears as Antonio simply stared, eyes and mouth wide. He couldn't believe Lovino was doing something so foolish! Didn't he realize how much he cared for him?

Lovino took one look at the blade, and at Antonio's bewildered face, then bolted.

He pushed past Antonio, who was too shocked to stop him, or move at all for that matter. What he had just witnessed...

No, it wasn't possible. It just wasn't. His Lovi would never...

The loud 'bang!' as Lovino slammed the front door behind himself brought him out of it.

A piece of paper caught Spain's eye, and he snatched up the note, reading it over quickly. There were only a few words on it.

To whoever is reading this (Most likely you, Antonio),

I'm sorry.

Lovino Vargas

Antonio cursed, throwing the paper down and grabbing a washcloth as he ran out of the bathroom, down the hall and out the door, into the pouring rain. It was as if the weather knew what was going on, and had decided to add itself into the mix. He looked down both sides of the street, not seeing any sign of Lovino. He ran left, deciding to chance it.

Apparently he was lucky, because he saw Lovino, standing in the middle of the road. He nearly cried in relief. Lovino was alright. He was drenched, and would most likely have a cold for a week, but he was alright at the moment.

Lovino breathed in the ozone-filled air, letting it clear his mind. The water stung slightly on his cut, though soothing at the same time. The bleeding had slowed.

(clotting up a darker red almost black disgusting sick color)

The cut he had made wasn't enough to seriously injure him. He had been planning on inflicting a few more, a sort of quantity-not-quality ending. But that bastard had interrupted him. It was all his fault now.

No. He couldn't blame it on Antonio. This was all because of him, because he hadn't been strong enough to fight back against Prussia.

It had been raining on that night too...

Memories invaded his mind, ones he had managed to block out for so long. Memories of the first time Prussia had...


Lovino could smell the strong scent of alcohol the moment Prussia walked in the door. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, ready to chew the man out for coming into Antonio's house drunk, especially when he wasn't home. But, before he could say a word, Prussia had stumbled into the living room, grabbing a hold of one of Lovino's wrists. The thunder crashed as rain poured, as if sending an ominous warning. Prussia smiled sloppily, and pressed a clumsy kiss to the Italian's lips. Lovino wanted to retch. Prussia tasted like stale beer and cigarette smoke, both things that Lovino couldn't stand. But, he figured if he let Prussia do what he wanted for now, it would be less painful later.

"Y'know," Prussia mumbled after he broke the kiss. "You're waaay too sexy for your own good..." He slurred, advancing forward a couple of steps, forcing Lovino back until the back of his knees hit the arm of the couch. He tried to push Prussia away with the hand that was not restrained, but it seemed to have no effect, because he merely grabbed his other wrist, leaving him almost helpless.

(helpless little useless Lovi can't do anything right)

Lovino's stomach turned when he was pushed over the arm of the couch, Prussia on top of him. The stench of alcohol was overpowering, making the Italian gag. It was only made worse when Prussia kissed him again, forcing his tongue into Lovino's mouth.

(I don't want to taste him get this bastard off of me why can't I scream?)

Lovino struggled against the German, but he was too strong, even drunk. He kicked violently, wriggling around underneath Prussia. He was pinned down by his wrists, and could tell there would be bruises the next morning.

(That's right think about something else)

He wasn't going think about Prussia's cold hands moving to hold his wrists above his head with one hand, the other unbuttoning his shirt. He refused to dwell on the fact that he was now biting at his neck, drawing blood. He didn't feel the tongue that flicked out to lick up the blood, more of a sadistic gesture than an apologetic one. He didn't even acknowledge it when the German's icy lips pressed against his own again, didn't dare taste his own blood through the kiss.

(my own blood his eyes are filled with it it's all my blood he's spilled it fills up his red red eyes)

"Stop it...!" Lovino protested, turning his head to the side, breaking the kiss. Prussia tightened his grip, making the Italian gasp in pain as his bones ground together.

(Pain it hurts but it's nothing compared to what's coming)

Prussia used his unoccupied hand to grab Lovino's hip, pinning him down further. His nails dug into the tanned flesh, nearly breaking the skin, bringing forth whimpers from the brunette.

(he likes that doesn't he I can see it in his eyes sick bastard scream already)

Prussia grinned maliciously. The lightning flashed, lighting upon his red eyes. A sudden realization dawned on Lovino. Prussia wasn't drunk. He was fully alert aware of what he was doing, and that just made Lovino even more frightened for what was going to happen.

(I know it I know what's going on but I can't say it not just yet can't even think it)

He didn't think about it when the hand gripping his hip so painfully let go to undo his trousers. He didn't ponder on the fact that Prussia was turning him over onto his stomach, didn't wonder why his pants were now down to his knees. He didn't hear the sound of Prussia's zipper being undone. Lovino was a million miles away, inside his own head.

(Think about good things nice things Antonio Antonio's face his voice his warmth this isn't Prussia it's Antonio Antonio's hands on my skin his lips on my neck-)

The thing that brough him back, however, was the pain.

It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, oh GOD did it hurt. It was so terrible that Lovino let out a bloodcurdling scream, one that sounded like it could've been heard for miles. Tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving wet trails on the flushed skin. Prussia clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling the shriek.

(finally I can scream and he stops me just let him kill me and get it over with)

"Scream one more time, and I'll slit your fucking throat." he growled in a breathy voice. Lovino squeezed his eyes shut as the pain rolled through him, focusing on not biting through his own lip.

(Just do it just scream and end it all he'll never be able to do anything to me again I'll never have to be hurt like this ever again)

No... No, this wasn't happening. No, no, no, no! He wasn't here, he wasn't being raped by Prussia!

(that's what it was wasn't it)

A hand on his shoulder jolted him, making him let out a surprised shout. A wave of terror washed over him as he waited for Prussia to make good on his threat. But... Nothing.

(gone he's gone but not for long just you wait)

The rain was no longer outside the house, but splattering down on him. The hand on his shoulder was darker, larger, more comforting than Prussia's.

(Antonio)

He then realized he was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest, so hard he feared it might fall out, like he had seen Russia's do. He was shaking, his hands clenched so tightly that there were small, half-moon punctures on his palms from his nails.

"Lovino," a soft, Spanish-accented voice spoke as he turned him around to face him. Lovino's eyes were still shut tightly. He felt his arm taken into those big warm hands, and a towel press against his cut.

"Please, just tell me why you would want to..." he couldn't say it. Couldn't say that his Lovi had wanted to kill himself. But, the evidence was right there on his wrist, on the towel that had a swiftly blooming red spot. Lovino twisted his shoulders, struggling to get out of the vice grip that Antonio had on him. It was no use, however.

"Let me go!" he shouted, kicking Antonio in the shin. He didn't even wince.

(he's strong stronger than Prussia he would have cursed and shouted if I had kicked him like that)

"Not until you tell me what would possess you to do such a thing!" he shouted right back. Lovino's emotions were swirling around in a hurricane in his heart. Tears of anger, fear, and sadness spilled out of his eyes. Antonio was crying too, but one could barely tell with the rain.

"No one would care if I was gone anyways!" Romano argued, punching Spain's chest. He wasn't really trying to hurt the older man, but it felt good to let his frustration out. "Not Feliciano or you or anyone! Why shouldn't I die?"

For a moment, there was only the 'patta patta' sound of rain on the asphault.

"Why you would think that?" Antonio finally spoke, so softly that Lovino had to struggle to hear him above the rain. The latter looked up into the former's green eyes. The usually bright and cheerful orbs were filled with pain and sadness. He had hurt him again.

(Idiot you're such an idiot can't do anything right you deserve everything Prussia did to you you deserve to die)

"Why would you ever think that Feliciano wouldn't be heartbroken? That I wouldn't care if you were gone? I love you, you're my whole world!" Antonio insisted, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. "Please, just tell me why!"

In a flurry, every bit of anger and torment that Lovino had been feeling since the first time Gilbert had hurt him, every bitten back word, every muffled scream, bubbled up in his throat. For a second, he thought he was going to scream, but instead, it all came rushing out in a few simple words.

"Because if he won't end this, I will!" he shouted, halting his struggles for a moment, just standing there, letting the rain slip off his hair and into his eyes, not even bothering to brush it away. For a moment, they just stood there, in the street, staring at the other.

Suddenly, Lovino found himself in a tight embrace, one that he not only welcomed, but leaned into, sobbing for what felt like the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours.

(Tighter tighter he's crushing me he's trying to hurt me run run RUN)

"I hate that Prussia did those things to you." Antonio spoke, moving Lovino back a bit, so he could look him in the eyes. "But you can't ever think like that. You're so much more than what he's made you feel like." Lovino nodded, looking down at the wet black pavement. He took a deep, shaking breath to try and calm his tears.

The voice that had been nagging at him for years had turned on him, the voice he refused to acknowledge for fear of sounding insane. It used to be a good thing, something that had helped him through the multiple beatings and rapes he had endured. It used to tell him nice things to take his mind off the pain, things like how much Feliciano and Antonio loved him, and that Prussia loved him too, but he was just sick right now. But it had been turning on him lately, slowly, surely. Now, it was telling him to get away from Antonio, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

(He wants to hurt you you know he does you want to run like a scared little rabbit you're nothing but a joke a useless joke with no punchline you can't do anything right he doesn't love you he never loved you no one loves you you should just SHUT THE FUCK UP!)

Antonio placed a finger under Lovino's chin, tilting his head up so that he would look him in the eyes. He smiled slightly, and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Lovino's lips. No voice rang in his mind, taunting him. For the first time in so long, Lovino was free, free of Prussia, free of himself, free of the pain and hatred that had snuck itself into his life, weaving through him like vines.

In that instance, Lovino knew that he had never thought he was in love with Prussia, even in the beginning. This was love, and what he had felt wasn't even close. This was pure, concentrated adoration, something that was rarely found in this world, and Lovino had it all to himself.

The kiss was interrupted, however, when Lovino felt a tickle in his nose. He pulled away quickly, sneezing into the crook of his right arm.

They both quickly remembered where they were. Antonio let out a small laugh, one that could almost qualify as a giggle. But no, Antonio was a man, and men didn't giggle, save for Feliciano.

"Let's get you out of this rain," he spoke, taking Lovino's hand in his. He nodded, and, just for good measure, added,

"I still think you're a maldito bastardo, you know." Antonio let out a full-on laugh, kissing Lovino quickly on the cheek. The latter instantly turned red, just like he had been hoping for.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

XxxX

and there we go. in my head prussia died a very painful death because of what he did and everyone was happy because he deserved it.