2p!Hetalia Boyfriend Scenarios

36: In these Times of Despair

Tears relentlessly fell down your cheeks once more as remained silent,  shaking underneath his heated gaze. What you had just discovered still left you shook and fazed—you somehow couldn't find the courage to argue with him about it,  knowing all the things he's been through. More than anything, it broke you as well. "I'm sorry. I was just—" you whimpered when he punched the wall behind you. "BULLSHIT!"

Allen allows himself to draw back as he saw you shook violently with every sob that escaped your lips and to him, seeing you like that breaks him. You felt him pull away from you, running his fingers frustratedly through his reddish brown hair. You watched as he leaned against the wall, so disappointed at himself as he slid down on to the floor, sitting across from you and contemplating on his thoughts deeply.

"You weren't supposed to know," you heard him say and it broke your heart. You could've sworn those were tears falling from his eyes.

Mathieu Williams
The cabin fell silent ever since you regained the brutal memories from your past life and often, Matt would find you staring off into nothing,  suddenly crying out of no where and even acting as if Mary Jane was still alive. You were slipping away, as Matt can tell—you were struggling to see what's real and not—and he had no idea what to do.

"(Y/N)," he begins, "We need to talk". You watched as he sat across from you, staying quiet to let him speak what he wanted to say. "You need to stop this, " your gaze hardened at his words. "Stop what exactly?" you sneered, glaring at him. Is he implying that you should just forget about your sister? Never in a million years, never in another life.

Matt sighed, mentally beating himself for not choosing the right words to pull you out of your misery. "I...  I don't mean to be rude, alright? It's just that it's over now, you know. There are no more witch trials,  no executions; no one's in danger anymore... " he softly pleaded with you but alas, you were unfazed by his words. "That doesn't change the fact that my sister died, Mathieu," he flinched at the mention of his full name rolling off your tongue in a venomous tone—you were really mad now.

"What has happened in the past cannot remain nor dwell in the present;  it'll only bring bad things in life," simply yet gently,  he tells you what Oliver had once told him. Your glacial facade remained merciless,  rivaling the raging winter outside. "I can't just forget about her, Mathieu!" You snarled as tears started to prick your eyes.

Matt let out a frustrated sigh as he attempts to reason with you. He understands your grieving—he honestly does but he can't leave you mourning like this. You needed to move on from the pain of the past that relentlessly taunted you ever since you regained them.

"(Y/N)—" you cut him off with a glare and sharp tone. "I don't need anyone to understand me, I don't need to be babied and comforted. I know what happened in the past and I know that I am in no power to go back and change things,  but I will not let you make me forget about anything."

And so you ran—specifically, into the forest—unsure of where you were going,  you ran away anyways,  leaving behind a regretful Matt.

Ollie Kirkland
"Ame—(Y/N), can you pass the powered sugar, please?"

You felt something in your heart pinch in hurt.

Amelia.

He's thinking about her, again.

Ever since Oliver unearthed his tragic past to you, it seemingly became a common everyday mistake when he accidentally calls you 'Amelia'. Now,  deep down, you thought it's pretty pathetic to be hurt by that little detail. Amelia was practically you—from what Oliver had said before.

But it slowly came to you, that even though you and Amelia bare the same features—quite possibly the same soul too—the both of you we're still different people. You two went through different storms in life that shaped you differently. You weren't a British lady-in-waiting executed under false accusations—that was her, not you. You were (Y/N) (L/N), an awkward potato from (home country) that fell in love with this fluffy lil British baker who happens to be an immortal second personification of Great Britain—no biggie.

Damn, it hurts.

Begrudgingly, you grabbed the glass jar of sweet, delicious powdered sugar from the counter top and carried it over to Oliver. Maybe it was because you were mad or clumsy,  but you may or may not have set the large container down a little to roughly.

Oliver jolted at the sudden clatter of glass next to him and he looked at you questioningly as you went back to the cupcake batter you we're mixing. "(Y/N)?" He hesitantly calls,  waiting for a response. Nothing.

That's when he heard a little sniffle as he saw your shoulder shake a little. His piercing blue eyes widened as he panics. Goodness! Were you crying?

"Poppet?" Oliver says, "What's wrong?"

Before he can rest his hand on your shoulder,  you wiped your tears, leaving the bowl to the side as you hurriedly walked out of the kitchen. Oliver stood alone, confused in the kitchen. Had he done something wrong?

Luciano Vargas
You understood Luciano's fears after he told you what had happened to him before. You knew that he feared of losing you so much that he would be willing to go to different lengths for you. He gave everything that you wanted and didn't ask for. He loves you so much—mostly, too much.

And God, you tried to understand him—really, you did—but this is has gone too far.

You let out an irritated sigh,  letting your head fall back against the plush white pillows of your bed. Although you were brought back to the comfort of the mansion, you still felt caged in, like you were a museum piece enclosed in glass. Luciano had been hard to pursue—begging him to take you out of the hospital and back home was a difficult task that you miraculously pulled, even in the slightest.

He still had his men heavily guard the doors of your shared bedroom. Though 'shared' mustn't be the term here,  seeing as he didn't even dare sleep on the bed next to you and even more, he didn't cuddle with you—that is very bad news. How dare he?

Your furious fever had long died down, although, you were still a bit light-headed at times but you can manage. "Amore mio... You shouldn't stress yourself," Luciano's eyebrows remain furrowed in concern as you hopped off the bed and stood on your feet to approach him as he enters the room. You crossed your arms, tired of being unable to go out. "Then you should stop this then."

Luciano rolled his eyes at your words as for the millionth time,  you attempted to make him let you leave. "You know I won't let you go anywhere," he grits with a stern facade. "Jesus, Luciano! I won't die going out to the garden! I can't just stay here forever!  I don't even have a fever anymore!!!" Your angry rant stabbed Luciano's heart with hurt. Was he really going too far?

No.

No, you're not.

You're doing the right thing.

"I said NO, (Y/N)!" he argues as you angrily took in deep breaths to calm yourself. Suddenly, it came to you as your chest. Suddenly,  you weren't mad anymore—you couldn't breathe. "Luciano, " he heard call out softer, your ragged breathing finally making sense to him.

Just as your vision darkened, you feel yourself fall as you lose consciousness and the numb ringing of panic echoes in your mind. You fainted and your body crumbled down.

—

Guys!!!! Milady's back!!!

I had a lot shizz to do for the past weeks. We had an exam too and it made me lose my jams,  but I'm okay now! I think.

Hope you guys enjoyed this! I'll try and start on the next one as soon as possible!

Lol, 
Miraaa