HetaOni (Hetalia x Reader x 2P! Hetalia)

Chapter 19 (Part 4)

---Chapter XIX: Hide and Seek (Part 4)---

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"'Ello there, love! How lovely to see you here~"

The young redheaded was surprised at the Brit's cheerful greeting. "Y-Yeah."

Nodding, the Brit continued, "What's your name, poppet?"

"...I'm America."

And all too quickly, a knife was placed under young Allen's neck. The strawberry blonde teen, swiftly grabbed him and restricted the American's movements. Struggle and Allen's throat will face the cold blade of the Brit's knife. The one who had the upper hand, however, kept his grin the whole time, maybe even wider. But his cold words were hollow and full of spite,

"I know."

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//Allen's PoV//


Ah. That scene again.

Watching the events unfold in front of me felt sickening. A memory, nothing more. A memory from a long time ago. Yet, the feelings. The feelings could still be felt. I could feel the dark, welled up emotions that was swirling within the deranged Brit that rested a cold blade by my neck. I could feel the anger. I could feel desire to kill.

I could feel the hate.


Pure hate.


For me.


How funny that was. He felt the same feelings I had for myself.


And just by looking at my younger self from a distance, I could see how the light in my eyes dimmed more than ever. The younger version of myself didn't move, but his sides trembled slightly. Eyes watering, trying his best not to let it trickle down his cheeks in utter vulnerability. Trying to reason out why everyone hated him, why he hated himself. But there was no other reason for him to reason out. His eyes already accepted defeat, fate.

The memory was still so fresh to me, no matter how many years, decades, had passed. I could still remember what I said, with that cold blade under my neck.


"Go ahead."


Just minutes after I was finally free from being just a mere reflection, the world instantly showed me how it didn't want me. The person who looked just like me didn't accept me. Neither did this stranger who painfully looked like the cause of all my loneliness and desperation. It wasn't fair.

The moment I started existing, all I felt was pain.

And it was the worst kind. The kind you don't see. The kind you don't hear. The kind that tries eating your consciousness. The kind that voices out how useless and pathetic you are. The kind of pain that only hurts something as abstract as what they call 'emotions'. Feelings.

I'd rather feel the pain that pierces through my skin, my body. Much so that I would become numb to it. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to stop.


"Go ahead...and kill me already."


I could feel my own throat form a lump as the buried emotions from the past slowly resurfaced because of the memory playing before us. I was just standing, clenching my fists, gritting my teeth. Just...hating myself for being that way. For being so, so weak.



The strawberry blond Brit in the vision before us began moving his hand, steadying the knife at a dangerous angle. Just hurry up and end it all already--

"STOP!!" someone shouted out, breaking me away from my own muddled thoughts. The source of the voice was this (h/c)-haired girl, with panicked (e/c) eyes. "Allen! What's going on?! What's Oliver going to--?? Can't we do something, I--.... Allen!!" her voice started to crack, trying to choke back the sobs.

"Is he going to--to..?" Without thinking, she ran towards the translucent forms in the memory playing, only to just pass through them. She couldn't do anything about it.

It's useless.

It's useless!


Why...are you trying so hard?


"It's just a memory, dollface." I gave a heavy sigh. "Stop wastin' your goddamn tears."

Despite being tear-stricken, the girl managed to give me a glare. She's angry. Having someone feel that about me wasn't new.

"It's not a waste if it's someone you care about, idiot!"

The way she worded her concern made me chuckle a bit. Really, no matter how much you try to remember the weights and the burdens that had troubled you for countless years, this girl somehow has this indescribable and unfathomable magic that fucking destroys the darkness in you. How does she fucking do it? What the hell. She's not perfect. Back then I thought she was pretty annoying. Someone who geniunely cares for others more than she cared for herself---I think that's goddamn stupid. I wouldn't do it. But she does.

She's no saint. She's no saviour.

Giving us a form of hope, of light in this damned world we've come to know...it won't make us forget the horrors of our past. It won't make us forget the pain. It won't make us forget the evil that lies within us.

But the fact that we met her here helped us blur the memory and numb the pain.

It's pretty fucked up. Hah.


"C'mon, doll." I tugged her sleeve. "Cryin' yourself ugly when you don't even know what happens next is stupid, y'know?"

"H-Huh..?" she muttered as she wiped her tears. Looking up, she directed her attention back to the memory before us.


The strawberry blond Brit in the vision before us began moving his hand, steadying the knife at a dangerous angle.