Hetalia One-Shots

Poland x Reader-Sorry

You feel your body weaken. Your knees buckle, and you are now lying down on the ground after being shot in the stomach by an opponent. Your mouth was open, but your lips started trembling. Tears drop from your glittering (e/c) eyes. You place your cold, dirty hands on your wound, and applied some pressure on it. You groaned. It was a piercing pain.

Your eyes were wide in terror, as you entered a state of shock. You heard screams of pain coming from other people. Sparks of fire flew everywhere, gunshots and cannons were being fired. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.

You held your hands up over your face, so you can see them. The red liquid from the wound covered them.

You sniffle and smile sadly and weakly. You started replaying your whole life. Your childhood, when you were growing up, when you made your first few friends, when your older siblings used to tease you. And down until the day before you were in this condition. You laugh as a tear rolled down your mud and blood-covered cheek. You remember how on your first day of school, you met him.
--
"What is this thing?!"
The group of tall, pretty and older girls screamed in unison at you, referring to your white shirt that had patches sewn on it. The leader of the girls was holding you by your shirt's neckline. She spat at your face, right on your nose. She let you go and pushed you down, so harshly that you fell. You wiped the spit off your nose. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair (She is not a Hetalia character) as she glared at you with her ice blue eyes. "Your face is ugly, your hair's all tangled up. And worst of all, your outfit is disgusting!"

"Well, I'm not ugly and my hair isn't all tangled up. My outfit's like this because I can't afford any other clothes. Deal with it!" You retorted. The group of girls just stare at you with a disgusted face. They walk away, and one of them slap you, leaving you a sobbing mess. You sat down in the empty hallway, burying your face in your hands, when a hand touched your back. "Like, what's wrong?" You look back to see a boy with bleach blonde hair and green eyes smiling at you, trying to lighten your mood. You smile back at him. "So, like, what's wrong?" He asked. You teared up and ran into him, crying in his shoulder while explaining about how it was your first day at school, and people already started bullying you. He rubs your back as you let your emotions out. He just listened to you quietly. After quite a long time's worth of sobbing and comforting, you finally felt better.
"My name's __(full name)__. You are?" You smile while rubbing your left eye. He grinned at you. "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz. Like, it's totally nice to meet you, ______!" He chirped. You couldn't help but giggle. "Nice to meet you too, Feliks!"
--
Ever since then, Feliks and you were best friends. Years pass by, and you are now 18, Feliks was already 18 before you, and your friendship with him was still going strong. And of course, like all cliché stories, you've been in love with him for years. On this year's Valentine's Day, he confessed to you, much to your happiness. Then, you confessed back. You were in a love-relationship with him ever since. The two of you were elated, but only until this week. He was ordered to join the army, to fight the Russians who decided to invade Poland, your country.

You had to part with Feliks, and he'd been fighting for a week, when an ambush attacked your neighborhood. Your family was wiped out when a cannon hit your house. You were your family's sole survivor. And now you were fatally wounded. Other civilians ran away from the approaching danger, dashing past you. Some were your close family friends. You just smile. You know that there's no hope of survival for you. It'd be best for you to just accept the end, with your family gone. And you don't even know if Feliks survived the war. Lyind down in your own little puddle of blood, you close your eyes slowly. You knew you'll be happy being with your family and Feliks up there, anyway. "Why couldn't I spend more time with you, Feliks.." You sigh, using up your last breath.

~~

A few hours after the ambush.
??? (POV)

My eyes widen in shock. The neighborhood was covered and filled with smoke, ashes, and dust. Nothing was standing in the middle of the wreckage. Everything had been destroyed. I can't believe she had to go through all this. I feel my eyes tear up as I frantically look everywhere for her, screaming her name. I see a familiar female figure on the ground a few meters away from me. I really hope she's just unconsious. As I walk closer to the figure, I see that the body wasn't moving at all and was surrounded by blood, so I quickly ran to it. It was her, all right. The same beautiful (h/c) hair. The same beautiful face. But I can't see her (e/c) eyes.. They're closed.. I kneel down and put my hand down to her chest. No heartbeat. My face felt hot, and my eyes were getting blurry. She wasn't.. No way. No way. I cradle her body in my arms. "No, ______, wake up!! WAKE UP!!!" She responded by hanging her head. Tears flow uncontrollably down my eyes. There's no way ______'s dead. I only knew her for a few years. We should've spent decades together. That was my plan. I played those thoughts for hours as I hug her tightly and quietly. I thought that if I did, she'd wake up. About one and a half hours passed with no signs of her waking up. I sigh sadly. I softly lay her back down on the ground and brush my hand on her soft cheeks and run a hand through her hair. She's still beautiful. I wipe a tear from my cheek, smiling at her. I thought that after I've finished fighting the Russians, I could propose to her and make her Mrs Łukasiewicz, even though we were still quite young. I'd even buy her a pony.. Haha. Well, I was too late. I kiss her forehead. She must've missed me. I chuckle gently. Maybe she died peacefully because of the thought of me being up there, waiting for her. I bite my lower lip.

Unfortunately, that wasn't true.

I give her a last, tight, embrace. I get up, and walk away from her corpse very slowly. Tears still rolling down my cheeks, I whisper, "I'm sorry ______. I should've spent more time with you."