"Italy!" Germany shouted as the smaller nation pinned him to the ground, his foot pressing down on his wrists to keep the German man from escaping his hold, a silver knife pressed to his throat as he pressed his body weight onto him to make it harder for him to escape.
"I'm not Italy. Thought you knew," Italy smirked, his purple eyes gleaming in the silvery moonlight that shone into the room, making the knife glint as he pressed it softly into Germany's throat. A few beads of blood ran down his neck as the Italian laughed, causing the German to shiver. What happened to Italy?....This wasn't him....This wans't him, this Italy right here, grinning in a cruel way....
"Red is a pretty color...." Italy smeared some of the blood of off his neck and held his hand into the moonlight so it's red color could be easily seen. "Don't you think, Doitsu?"
Germany growled at he smaller man keeping him pinned to the ground by digging his foot harder into his wrists, ignoring the stinging pain in his neck as he looked up at the Italian nation on top of him.
"Don't call me that," he growled at the man. "Your not Italy."
"Oh, but the thing is, sweetie," Italy said in a mock-motherly tone, leaning down so his face brushed against Germany's,
"What-took-you-so-long-to-figure-that-out?" He sung, sitting up on top of the German's stomach so he it made it harder for him to breath and held his bloody finger to his lips, sucking on it, giving Germany a questioning stare. Germany glared at him, a plan going on his mind. If he could just take the knife...He could attack him and run, go into hiding, warn the others of this new Italy....
"Silly Doitsu," Italy leaned down again, raising his knife so it grazed the skin of Germany's cheek, smiling in an insane, sadistic way that made Germany's whole body tense up with fear as Italy said sweetly,
"You can run from me, Germany, but you can never hide, because I will always be here, watching." And with that he buried the knife into the German man's cheek, and stood up, leaving the howling man behind him as he left the room....
His work here...
Was complete...
He smiled down at his bloodied hand.
Red was such a pretty color.
Soon he would be painting the walls with it.
And with that thought, he smiled and left the house completely, with the German's wails echoing behind him.
Prologue sucks because I wrote it in three minutes. ;-; But I promise it gets better.
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(2P Hetalia) Paint It, Red
FanfictionIt all started out with Italy. He cracked. Too much pressure. Depression. Something like that. One day, he was fine. The next day, he tried killing Japan. There's something wrong with Italy and the nations are dying to find out as this strange new...
