I don't own Hetalia, sadly. This is only my second story, so I hope it'll be okay. Anyway, enjoy~
Prussia lied in the blood of himself and his fallen friends. The color red really did suit him, matching the color of his eyes. It was such a pretty color, too. He'd once seen a sunset at such a color. West had taken him to it. It was so beautiful, dying the world in its color.
Germany, spotting him on the ground, unmoving, ran to him now. The fighting was still going on, but it was over enough that he could abandon it to seek aid for his brother. What had happened? Why was he down?
"Bruder!" he yelled, reaching Prussia. He kneeled on beside him, taking in his form. He was covered in blood. Prussia looked up at Germany, barely seeing his face.
"Hey," he muttered, coughing up blood. Germany winced at it. Why was this happening?
"Don't try to talk," he warned, taking his brother's hand.
"It kind of sucks," Prussia continued, ignoring what Germany said. He smiled at him. "I was hoping to celebrate a beer with you if we won. Guess there's not much chance of that now, huh?"
"Don't talk," Germany begged. Prussia's voice was so weak, he struggled to hear it. All speaking was doing was taking up any reamaining strength.
"When have I ever listened to you?" Prussia laughed. He brought Germany's hand up to his face, presssing it to his cheek. Was his brother always this warm? It felt good.
"Listen to me now," Germany pleaded. "Please, just once." He wouldn't be able to handle it if he continued to talk. It was hard enough having to watch this, why must he also hear it?
"Nope," Prussia refused. "The likes of you could never command such an awesome me." He coughed again, spitting up more blood. Where the hell had he been hit?
Germany laughed, hiding his true feelings. How could Prussia be like this, even now, so close to death? He just didn't understand it. Did he not know what was happening to him? That his was dying? Dying meant never being able to see your loved ones again. What about France? And Spain? What about him?
Tears now flowed out of his eyes, and down his face, dropping onto Prussia. The older put his hand to Germany's cheek and wiped them away. "Why are he crying, West?"
"I wasn't able to protect you," he cried. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Bruder." Prussia smiled at him. How foolish he could be. Germany was still Germany, after all. He was the same as ever.
Prussia let go of Germany's hand to reach up and take his beloved necklace off himself. He reached to Germany and pulled him closer, putting the necklace on him. He then bent up to kiss his brother's forehead.
"You always were a crybaby."