Hetachains (Rewritten Hetalia Reader Insert)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

They're Not Therapists...

The winds died faster than they began, lowering my body onto a wooden floor. Whether the gentleness of its movements came from loyalty or pity, I wasn't sure nor did I have the mental stability to ponder. My hands gripped at the winding grains of the floorboards. Sensations of sand pressed against my palms, slowly fading as I left the forest scene. Slowly taking the last remnants of Gracie away with them.

Give her back. She never said she had to-

Fingernails dug into the floor, trying to pry away to the dirt beneath. If the earth took her away. The Earth could give her back.

Water trailed from my eyes and dripped from my nose, splattering across the ground. My hands left their mission on the floor to furiously wipe the water away yet no matter how much I rubbed, new tears replaced the old.

"Give her back." I whispered, voice losing its power as my energy drained, "Please... just give her back." My hands fell, knuckles brushing the ground I'd just tried to rip apart. Tears dripped down my cheeks in rivers, drying slightly before wetting all over again.

Whispering littered the area around me. I could find the energy to lift my head, restricted to watching shadows dance across the floor.

A shadow came forward, a familiar curl dropping from it's usual lift, "Are- are they okay?"

A yelp sounded as a shadow hand struck the original shadow over the head. Another curled shadow joined with anger somehow on the shadow's dark face.

"Of course they're not okay, dumbass. Look at them fucking cry!"

"But if they're crying...them I'm going to start crying-"

"You better not fucking cry or else I'll give you a real reason to!"

A third shadow entered in with a curl coming out from the forehead, "Could- Could someone just... go talk to them? Mike!"

Said person jumped backward as if shocked by the suggestion.

"Oh no, we've already established I'm not a good emotional fixer," He pointed towards the other side of the room, to a shadow with a particularly little hat, "Have Vladimir go!"
"What? I have no idea what's going on! Have Lovino go."

A shadow stepped forward, "Vladimir, that is the worst idea you've ever had. Why the bloody hell would we send the angry italian to help?" The little hat shadow shrugged as a response. However, the comment stirred more emotion out of the angry shadow.

"You saying I'm not helpful, British Bastard?" he asked, moving towards the british shadow.

"Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying."

"Oh yeah? Well- Well I'll show you!"

Each voice quieted to a murmur, wanting to watch the angry shadow but also wanting to gossip about him. The angry shadow moved closer until it was no longer simply a shadow. Two boots came into my line of sight, toes lightened with wear and leather creased around the ankle.

I sat back on my heels, swallowing the lump in my throat and sniffling any extra snot back into my nose. Following the boots upwards, I found Lovino staring down at me with a confusing expression. His eyebrows furrowed together and his nose wrinkled back. I'd never seen anything other than a scowl on his face so I found it hard to read the new look.

A breath caught in my throat as he squatted down, bringing the odd face eye level with my own. I cringed, hoping he wouldn't notice the snot dribbling down my face or the puffiness of my eyes.