Hetalia Oneshots (Requests Open)

America x Dying! Reader

Your pov

You stared across the room emotionlessly. The doctor had just told you you were dying. There's no need to get into the details of it other than the fact that there was nothing to be done. You twisted your wedding ring around your finger, wondering what to tell your husband. Alfred.

Alfred. Sweet, amazing, Alfred. You'd been married just a year ago. This would devastate him. You stared down at the silver band around your left finger and tried to imagine his face. The second you walked through the door, he would be there like an excited puppy. He'd grin at you and twirl you around in a hug. Then you'd tell him, quietly, praying that he wouldn't actually hear you, but he would. His heart shattering would be almost audible. Then he'd smile, he'd chuckle and tell you to stop messing around. You wouldn't answer. Those big, blue eyes you loved so much would fill with tears and he's shake his head, still begging you to tell him that it was a joke. You shook your head and looked to the doctor.

"How long do I have?" You asked. Your voice was eerily calm.

"Three months, Mrs. Jones. I'm sorry," He said. You nodded, still eerily calm.

"It's not your fault. I really should be going," You said. The doctor nodded and let you leave. He too looked saddened. You needed to get home. You had to spend as much time with Alfred as you could.

~~Time skip~~

You opened and shut the door quietly, hoping that he hadn't heard you. You didn't want to see him upset. You couldn't bear to see him sad. You slipped off your shoes and placed your purse on the table in the entrance, just like you did every day. Everything felt so off. So wrong. You placed your hand on the table. You must have done it harder than you thought because Alfred called for you.

"(Y/N)? Babe? Is that you?" He called.

"Yeah," You said, your voice barely a whisper.

"(Y/N)?" He called again, walking towards you. You took your hand off the table and went to meet him in the middle.

"Hey, Alfie," You said, forcing a smile. He cocked his head to the side, but smiled back. He put his hands on your shoulders and leaned down so he could look into your eyes.

"Are you okay, dudette?" He asked. You almost nodded. You thought about lying to him, but you couldn't. Not when he looked at you like that, with more love than you'd ever felt from any one.

"No. No, Alfred, I'm not," You said, softly. A worried look crossed his face as he scooped you up in his arms bridal style. He took you into the bedroom, lying you down on the bed. He brushed his hand through your (H/C) hair.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" He asked. You bit your lip, looking away from him for a moment.

"I'm dying," You said. Your voice sounded stronger than you felt and Alfred's mouth twitched up at the side.

"I think you're being a little dramatic, babe," He chuckled. You sat up and took his hand, staring him in the eyes. You looked over his face, made your eyes serious, and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to die, Alfred," You repeated. He stared at you, unblinking. His lips quivered and, as you'd thought about before, you could hear his heart break. He reached up and cupped your cheek.

"Stop kidding around, dudette," He said. His voice held humor with an undertone of terror and desperation.

"I'm going to die," You said again. You felt like a broken record.

"(Y/N)," He said, sternly, "This is a shitty joke."

"I'm going to die. In three months, I'm going to die, Alfred," You whispered, the reality finally setting in that you were really going to die. You'd never get to celebrate your five year anniversary, buy a house with him, have kids, or grow old with him. A certain kind of hollowness took over his face and he squeezed your hand hard enough for it to hurt. You said nothing about it.