Basch said goodnight to sister and hurried off to room.He closed the door as quickly and quietly as he could, then locking it before walking over to his bedside table where he then opened the drawer rummaging through it frantically. He finally found what he had been looking for; a small razor. The small blond then pushed his left sleeve up tearing off the bandages sloppily wrapped around his arm. He never bothered with the gauze too much since he knew it would never stay on for long. He stared down at his arm while sitting on the floor, facing away from the door. He sighrd positioning the razor on his wrist upon a space with least amount of red marks ripping across. With one more deep breath, he quickly swiped the instrument off to the side. He winced at the pain, it hurt but it took his mind off the mental pain; if not for his sister he would have already taken his own life.
He wasn’t sure if nations could die, but he didn’t want to risk it if it meant potentially leaving his precious sister behind. Neutrality could really be awful at points. He remembered when he closed his doors to the escaping Jews from different parts of Europe, condemning them to almost certain death. He ripped the blade across his arm once more, to ease the sting of the memory. He remembered the Axis and Allied planes he shot down. Two more cuts.
Basch was religious to an extent, believing in God, but not in his forgiveness. The Swiss knew his sins couldn't be forgiven.
“B-brüder…?” His younger adoptive sister called from outside his room. Shit. He answered as naturally as he could manage through his newly noticed tears. “Ja…?”
Liechtenstein was silent for a moment before speaking.“U-um… Preußen just called… He said he’ll be visiting you tomorrow, but he didn’t quite ask as much as state that…” Basch groaned. “If he shows up, I’ll shoot him.”
Liechtenstein giggled softly, finding her brother’s trigger-happy tendencies to be quite silly. “Okay… Guten Nacht, big brüder!” she chirped before scampering off to her room for the night.
“Ja…” Switzerland confirmed quietly. “Guet Nacht. Liechtenstein.” He said that, but he knew his own night would be that of a long one.
The Next day; “Liechtenstein, oi!” Prussia greeted her cheerfully, holding up his handn free-spirited salutation.
She smiled. “Hallo, Gilbert. Brüder’s still sleeping, I think. I’ll wake hi-“ beforeshe could finish, Prussia was already half way up the stairs, calling down to her. “Make breakfast for three people today! Kesesese!”
“O-oh, okay!”
Prussia reached the top of the stairs. The white haired German hadn’t been to the Zwingli household many times before. He didn’t really know where Switzerland’s room was, but he tried anyway,opening each and every door without any success until he found one door that wouldn't open. “Kesese, found it!” He declared victoriously, pumping his fist in the air. He began knocking on the door. “Yo, Basch! The awesome me ishere, so get yourself out of bed and bask in my awesomeness! Ja, here I am! No need to be so shy, come on out!” Heblabbered, feeding his own ego. He waited for a minute after his obnoxious wake-up call, but became confused whennot so much as a gunshot was heard from the room. “Huh… The neutrality-fangirl sleeps pretty soundly.” He noted tohimself. That’s when he smelled a stench he knew all too well: the metallic scent of blood. The smile faded fromhis face. ‘What the hell happened in there? Was he attacked?‘ Prussia thought to himself. ‘Maybe he shot himselfby accident in excitement when he heard I was coming.’ He mused. Gilbert shook his head quickly. Even if that werethe case, he wouldn’t have any time to goof off. He raised his foot and “awesomely” broke the door down. He didn’t expect to see a passed-out Swiss on the ground, with his mutilated arm in full view. “Sw-Switzerland!!”
