Hetalia Angst

Maybe, Just Maybe

⚠️TW: Suicide, self harm, mentions of abuse, slight mentions of anxiety and depression⚠️
Characters: Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany); Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia)
Word Count: 526 words

Though night was rapidly approaching, the sun glared brightly down at the young German male, his usual neat, blond hair combed back like always. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks, his throat tightening as his only brother was lowered, the casket soon to be covered in dirt and rocks. Who knew that a life that was supposed to last for so long would be cut short by a blade and pills? He always seemed so happy, crimson eyes staying bright to hide the growing hurt and sorrow hiding deep within. A person can only take so much pain and loneliness and it appeared the college freshman had reached his limit. His so-called "friends" would always tease him, push him around, and, on some occasions, hit him.

Maybe if his Russian boyfriend had cared less about sex and more about Gilbert's well-being, the German would still be here. Maybe if people were able to see past the color of his eyes and pay attention to his soft, loving heart, he'd still be here. Maybe if the harsh words and constant comparison to his younger brother were easier to ignore, he'd still be here. Maybe if he actually had as much confidence as he displayed, he'd still be here. Maybe if anxiety didn't make his stomach do backflips every time he moved or spoke, he'd still be here. Maybe if people stopped using labels that people can't control, he'd still be here. Maybe if his scars carried less pain, he'd still be here.

Maybe, just maybe, he could still be here. But he wasn't. Not even the sky was there to mourn with Ludwig, the bright sunlight contradicting the true sorrow fueled by Gilbert's death. Why was no one there? Why did no one find it necessary to watch as Gilbert's pale skin saw the last rays of sunlight before finally being closed into the pinewood box and lowered six feet under? The sunset seemed brighter that day, a painting of reds and golds. It was almost as though the gods were celebrating, scattering bright colors across the fleeting light of day that was soon to be replaced by the cool darkness of night.

The hollow sound the dirt made as it hit the casket didn't reach Ludwig's ears. He was too lost in his memories and what ifs to even realize he'd sunk to his knees, unable to keep himself standing as the person who always protected him was sealed away in complete darkness. Hours passed after the burial and Ludwig never moved. He would whisper prayers of safety, holding tightly to the cross pendant identical to the one still hanging around his brother's neck as his blue eyes stared, unseeing, at the gravestone marking the spot his brother now lay.

'Maybe if I'd stayed with him longer.' Thoughts whirled in his head, making the hours tick by like seconds. 'Maybe if I stepped up for him. Maybe if I'd defended him. Maybe if I took his suggestions more often. Maybe if I'd done what he'd wanted. Maybe if I told him I loved him more, he'd still be here. But I didn't, and now he's gone.'