“Italy!” Germany yelled from downstairs.
“Yes?” Italy called back down, momentarily distracted.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
“Coming!” Italy yelled back down the stairs. He looked down at the death note in his hands and quickly stuffed it under his pillow. He wiped any remaining tears from his face and made his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, France enveloped him in a gigantic hug.
“Oh, Italy! I was so worried about you! Everyone has been running around spreading horrible news! Are you alright? Are you Hungry? Thirsty? Has this lousy German been feeding you? Oh, your face is puffy, are you allergic to his food? I knew I should have brought you something to eat! I missed you so much-“
“I can’t breathe…” Italy said when the French man took a breath.
France released the boy and told him everything was fine. A small feeling of guilt began to build in his chest again. He didn’t realize what his actions were doing to France. Faking a smile, he led France over to the couch and sat between him and Germany.
The three of them began chatting for a few minutes, but all Italy could think of was how much he was hurting everyone. He hated the feeling in his chest. The more his mind went over it, he did deserve to die. All he was good for anymore was causing pai for the people who loved him.
Italy became lost in his thoughts, and he didn’t notice when the other two men stopped talking.
“Italy, are you alright?” Germany asked, staring at him.
Snapping back to reality, Italy looked up at Germany and France.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just a little tired is all. I think I need to go take a little nap.”
France and Germany watched as Italy climbed the stairs to his room. When he closed the door, he took the death note out from under his pillow and began to think. He decided that his own time was up, but he had not yet decided how to do it. He knew that although he didn’t deserve to live, Germany would be crushed if he died. He needed a way to die without Germany feeling pain for the rest of his life.
Suddenly, an idea struck him. Italy opened up the death note and began scribbling madly. The entirety of what he wrote took up three full pages of details. As soon as he finished writing he heard two screams from downstairs. A small smile creeped across his face despite the small terror building inside him. The end was beginning.
He slowly made his way down the stairs. At the bottom he saw Germany standing over France’s corpse with a phone in his hand.
“I’m afraid that won’t work Germany…” Italy said in a slightly dazed voice.
“What do you mean?” Germany asked, still in shock from what he just witnessed.
“He’s dead now Germany. And soon we will be too.”
Germany dropped the phone and looked up at the boy now standing directly in front of him.
“Don’t say that Italy! Why are you saying this?”
Italy looked into the German’s eyes as he began to admit to everything he had done. Germany tried to butt in and stop him, but he wouldn’t stop. Eventually, Germany gave up on trying to stop him and just listened, tears unknowingly flowing down his cheeks. After a few minutes, Italy fell silent; still not taking his eyes away from his friend’s.
“Italy…That can’t possibly be true!”
“I’m sorry Germany, but this is the end.”
He handed the German the small black notebook he had been holding behind his back. It was opened to a page, and Germany looked down to read it.
Italy smiled and took a small gun from his pocket and handed it to his friend.
“Now we can go together, Germany,” Italy said as Germany took the gun from his hand.
Tears of happiness ran down Italy’s face as Germany lifted the gun toward his face. He leaned forward so that the barrel was pressed against his forehead and closed his eyes. A small smile appeared on his face.
“See you soon, my friend.”
Germany stared blankly at his friend, completely controlled by the death note now. He pulled the trigger and watched as the young boy fell to the floor, blood gushing from the hole in his face; smile plastered permanently on his corpse.
Still unknowing of his actions, the German turned the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. He fell forward on top of the other man. The hand with the gun on it fell over the last page Italy wrote on, and blood began to cover the page; blotting out the name of every country that had been written down earlier.
Italy didn’t want anyone to hurt anymore, so he took everyone to the same place. Together.