Story: Save me, Chapter 1 - Bleeding it Out

Summary: As Italy struggles with his feelings for Germany, and his promise to Holy Roman Empire, he begins cutting as an out lit to deal with the pain. Even though he knows what he's doing isn't good for him, it's all he can think to do. Will he be able to recover, and stand on his own two feet as a nation again? Or will he be left, barely slipping through the cracks?

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Blood had dripped in the bathtub, crimson liquid staining the once clean water below.

One cut for being so weak.

Two cuts for being such a coward

Three cuts for-

Italy turned his gaze when he heard a knock on the bathroom door. Tightly clutching the knife in his hand, he sighed. Thankfully, he'd locked the door after himself, so no one could walk in on him and see what he was doing to himself. No one could ever find out about this. He knew it wasn't healthy, but it was the only thing that helped ease the pain, at least a little.

"Veneziano! What's taking you so long in there?! Hurry up, bastardo, and don't waste all the damn water!" came a voice from outside the door, somewhat muffled by the splashing of the shower.

Romano.

"R-Romano! ~Ve, I'll be out in a bit!" he said, putting on a fake smile, before it faded as he looked down at the bloody water then at his once soft flesh, which was now covered in pink scars, and cuts big and small, old and new. He recalled when first started doing this. It'd been about three month ago. He was out running some errands for Germany, And was practically on the verge of breaking down, when he passed by a knife. At that point, the idea just kind of came mind. He knew it wouldn't kill him, as nations couldn't die, but it was a good outlet. Why was he doing this, you may ask? He was weak. He was a coward. Even though he tried his best, he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and it caused Germany to have to rescue him. It would be one thing if it happened to once or twice, or even three times, but this practically every other day.

Three cuts, for wasting Germany's time.

Four cuts for being a burden to everyone.

Five cuts for not even being able to wait as he'd promised...

At this point, tears were freely streaming down his face, mixing in with the droplets of water below. 'Promise you'll wait for me.' Holy Roman Empire had said to him, before he left and never returned. It was very painful, but to add to that, Germany reminded him so much of him that it wasn't even funny, because every time he looked at Germany, he couldn't see Germany, as he always saw Holy Rome, instead.

Another cut...

Why did Germany have to share such a resemblance to the Holy Roman Empire? Why did he have to have those same blue eyes as him? The same blond hair? The same...everything...? Even their personalities were kind of similar...

Either way he looked at it, he knew Germany was Germany, and Holy Rome was Holy Rome. There was nothing that would change that. Anyway, he'd promised that he'd wait, and his commitment to Holy Roman Empire was absolute.

After a while, he pulled the plug in the bathtub, allowing the reddish water to drain, before he grabbed a large towel, drying himself off. He made sure to avoid to wiping the blood on his arm with the towel. If there was any blood on the towels, not only would Romano be irritated that his white towel was stained with blood, but he would also question why there was blood stains. What could he say, then? He never could understand what Romano was thinking, so he knew it was best to avoid irritating him.

He grabbed a paper towel, blotting up the blood and moisture on his arm. Afterward, he grabbed some bandage wrap from the medicine cabinet, covering up his wounds.

After slipping on his normal work clothes, and cleaning up after himself, he grabbed the knife that was still in the bathtub, washing it off under the sink. He then slipped it into one of his pockets, unlocking the door.

"Finally, Dammit!" growled Romano, as Italy stepped out. They briefly met each others eyes, before Italy left the room. Romano didn't know if it was just him, but Italy had seemed...different lately. He looked as if he was getting paler and paler every day.

Not that he would admit that he cared.

~ End of Chapter

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