Sibling!Hetalia x Sibling!Reader (one-shots)

England

Addictions

TW: Suicide; Lots of blood; Angst 

Reader's POV:

"England?" I call out as I enter the house. I close my umbrella and shake my head in an attempt to shake off any excess water. The house was eerily quiet, the only sound being heard was the rain pattering outside. I put away my jacket and slip off my wet shoes, replacing them with slippers. I call out to England again only to get no response. As I approach the living room, a strong stench of iron hits my nose. I want to gag but after years of seeing so much death, it doesn't bother me anymore. As I enter the living room, my eyes are instantly drawn to the bloody scene.

I sigh, staring down at my brother. He was lying in a puddle of his own blood, a gun wound to the sides of his head. His white button-up shirt was soaked in blood and his trousers were wrinkled. A loaded pistol that was only missing a single bullet rests in his limp hand. Empty bottles of whiskey and gin were scattered around the floor. Despite the blood pouring out his head, he looks peaceful. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, face calm. I sort of just want to leave him like this, but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. 

I raise my foot and deliver a hard kick to the side of his stomach. I grunt as his body shifts. No response. I do it again, even harder. The pistol flies off his hand, going a little bit away from us. I glance at it but make no move to grab it. I kick England again, harder than before.

"Get up you idiot." With one more kick, his eyes snap wide open and he takes a deep breath as if he had just risen up from the bottom of the ocean. I scoff as his eyes meet mine. He smiles peacefully at me like he isn't currently bleeding out the sides of his head.

"Welcome home, [Y/N]."

"How the hell did you manage to kill yourself and still remain drunk? Just how strong did you buy it this time?" He ignores my questions and begins humming the children's tune London Bridge is Falling Down. He closes his eyes, a grin spread across his face. I roll my eyes and reach down to grab one of the whiskey bottles. I murmur in confusion to myself about how the hell he managed to get a bottle with 82% alcohol. I sigh and toss the bottle to the floor, not really caring if it shatters or not.

I reach down and grab England by the arm. His face is blushed from the alcohol, meaning his blood was up and running again. The only indicators that he was dead earlier are the gunshot's entrance and exit wound, as well as the blood all over his clothes. I grunt and scowl as I struggle to pick him up. He doesn't bother to help and instead giggles, watching me haul his ass up to the couch. His giggles increase as I manage to toss him onto the couch. He continues humming children's' tunes as I look at the sides of his head. The bleeding had significantly slowed down but the bullet wounds are still there. They should technically heal in a few days but knowing England, he will probably heal himself tomorrow morning with magic.

"Stay here," I command with a sigh. He simply giggles again, watching with half-lidded eyes as I walk away. I silently pray he doesn't do anything stupid as I walk to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. I would bring him along but I also don't want blood everywhere, there's already enough of that in the living room. 

Thinking about it now, I knew I shouldn't have left him alone. Honestly, how dumb was I to just leave him alone on July 4th: America's independence day. But I had to take care of something and honestly, I left him alone for two hours. Two hours! He managed to get drunk and kill himself in two hours?!

I angrily grumble to myself as I reach the bathroom and grab the kit. It doesn't take long before I return to the living room. I cringe as the blood spreads into the hallway and begins to soak my slippers. I screech at the sight of England sitting back on the floor, looking down the barrel of the gun. Just before I could stop him, he places the barrel into his mouth and shoots.