Søvn, lillebror

One Bullet.

“Please.” Tino begged.
“Not very good with words.” The Swede defended.
“You don't need to. You just need to show that you understand. I wouldn't be asking this if I didn't have to. What if...what if…” Finland couldn't finish the sentence. Sweden understood. And though Finland was the only one that knew of his troubles, Iceland was more important.
“I'll talk t’ 'im.” He rose from his seat, wearily returning Tino’s smile. He had never mentioned what he tried to do to Norway or Denmark. He felt it didn't matter. And he knew Iceland was going through the same thing. That if Norway didn't go to check on him, the others wouldn't know. That Berwald wouldn't know he needed his help. Berwald took in a deep breath before entering into the den. Emil was staring blankly at the ceiling.  Sweden took the seat next to him.
“Finland sent-”
“I understand what y’r goin’ through. Y’ feel alone, yet when people try t’ comfort y’, y’ just want them t’ go away. Y’ feel like y’ don't matter. Went... I went through th’ same thing. Y’ were little. Denmark and Norway don't know. Y’ think it'll just go away. Things like that stick with y’ f’r centuries.” Emil couldn't look at the Swede. Berwald was opening up to him, trying to help him. And Emil had nothing to say. He didn't plan on having to think about it for centuries. He didn't plan on thinking about it next week. His fingers dug into the cushions beneath him.
“I'm sorry.” That was all he could manage. Because he was. He was sorry for existing. Sorry for making them care so much about him. Sorry that by tomorrow evening...he hoped he'd be gone. He knew the damage it would cause. He knew he'd hurt Norway. And Denmark. But he couldn't take it anymore. Simply existing was painful. So why not just end it all? One rope. One bullet. A few pills. That's all it would take. And then it'd finally be over. He wouldn't have to hurt anymore.