Hetalia Oneshots

If I die young...

〔A/N: Hey, so this is just a story I came up with, they are not countries here. The flashbacks will be in Italic while the song lyrics are in Bold. So yes, this is a songfic. 〕

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

"Why?" Were the only thoughts whirling around the Hungarian's mind, her body slumped against a corpse near the riverbank, staring blankly at the scenery, eyes dull, no longer holding any life in them. Dried tears streaking down and staining her face. A note in one hand and the Prussian's hand, holding a white rose in the other, clutching them so, so tightly, as if they would disappear if she let go. The Prussian always seemed so... So, happy... Carefree... So... Why?

A young brunette girl, aged 17 chased a laughing young man of 19 around the mansion, a frying pan waving wildly in the air. "Get back here Gilbert Beilschmidt!" The sound of a snake-like laughter filled the air, intertwining with the furious yells, creating a chaotic yet somehow fitting symphony. "Kesesesese! No way Elizabeta! The awesome me is too awesome to get my ass handed to me!"

She would no longer see those eyes that sparkled with happiness and mischief, that smile that sent awakened the butterflies from their slumber, dancing a frenzy dance in her stomach, or had all those been all just a lie too? Had everything been a lie? Everybody had been depressed when they heard the news. Even Roderich, who claimed he hated the Prussian's guts, was saddened and locked himself in his room after hearing the about devastating event.

Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother
She'll know I'm safe with You when she stands under my colors, oh and life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain't even gray, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I've had just enough time

Said man looked at his Hungarian friend, a sad smile slowly spreading across his lips. It didn't matter now, he was dead anyways. But at least, he had a wonderful life, despite it's shortness. He just couldn't take it anymore, so he left it behind. He tore his gaze away from the weeping woman and strolled slowly around town, memories being rekindled like lost pages of a storybook. Passing a field, he smiled at the somewhat distant, yet close memory.

"Tag!" The Canadian yelled, touching the shoulder of his Prussian friend. It was a rare sight to see Matthew being loud, it was only something that he showed Gilbert. Even at Hockey, he wasn't this free in expressing himself. This was something that not even his brother, Alfred, knew of. The white haired albino let out a laugh and made a sharp turn before proceeding to chase the blonde, tackling him to the snowy ground once he was near. He let out a victorious "I got you!" The duo erupted into fits of giggles, rolling around leaving prints in their wake. After their laughing fiasco, the pair helped each other up, walking back to Matthew's house, red-faced, the chilly air, nipping at their exposed skin, a silly, idiotic, bright and genuine smile on their faces, chatter never dying down.

Matthew froze when he received the phone call, dropping to his knees, letting go of the machine in the process, it fell clattering to the floor. His best friend... Dead? No, it couldn't be? Could it? But he knew deep down, he wasn't fooling anyone. Punching the floor in anger and in sadness, he didn't care if anybody heard, or if he bruised his hand. How could he have gone without even saying as much as a goodbye? Then again, his subconscious knew, that if Gilbert said even as much as a single word about it, he wouldn't be able to go. How could Matthew have not realized, that everyday was a living pain for him? He could have helped! He was so disappointed in himself. Sobbing, he didn't even know that Alfred had joined him, comforting him while shedding tears of despair himself.