Countryhumans Oneshots

[USSR x Third Reich] Secret Admirer

- Disclaimer -

I do not condone Nazism or the hate of any religious groups or ethnicity. The character Third Reich does not represent Hitler, instead the people of Germany at that time, giving him normal emotions. He can love, cry, and have despair. The same goes for USSR.

This does not mean the events that were done during these time periods were appropriate or good. They were completely terrible things.

Also self-harm/suicide, so don't read if that upsets you.

--

Letters.

Letters were USSR's favorite thing at the moment.

He got one every day, beautifully written letters that came from an anonymous source. The way the words were could almost make you feel and understand them, make you feel what the person who wrote them was feeling. They were always highlighting the good things about the communist, and each talking about how much the writer cared for him.

There were two issues with this.

One, he had no idea who it was. There were no hints, no clues, nothing that could lead him to whoever was writing the letters. He had no suspicions either, they always seemed to appear at the most interesting of times, and with no hints as to who wrote them. They did help though, made him feel more self confident, more wanted.

The second, more important, issue was that he had no interest in finding someone new. He currently had his eyes on Third Reich, who seemed rather despondent around him. He was always looking away and it seemed as though he didn't care in the slightest, which was a little disconcerting. There had to be some way to tell this admirer he wasn't interested, however, he just wasn't sure how yet.

Almost as if on queue, a letter came sliding from beneath the door. USSR leaped to his feet, making his way over to the front door. By the time he reached it, whoever had put the letter there was far gone. He gave a sigh of defeat, squinting around just to make sure nobody was visible. He turned around, kneeling down to pick up the letter. It was neat, no smudges or anything to hint at mishandle.

He carefully stood up, making his way over to the kitchen. He took a seat at the counter, taking the note out and opening it, skimming through it.

Dear USSR,

Apologies for the delay between this letter and the previous; had some issues I had to handle. I must say, however, you've been exceptionally cheerful lately when I've seen you, something well going on in your life? I'd hope so, seeing as you deserve much more than I could ever give you.

This is why I'm really, truly sorry to have to deliver this news through letter.

I've never been good at talking to you face to face, like I am with everyone else. I always know the right words to say to make them believe what I want them to believe. The right strings to pull, how to run everything. I've made some pretty awful decisions, and I've done some pretty terrible things, reflecting back now. I don't deserve anything, unlike you, except maybe death..

USSR paused in the letter, getting a small sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to ignore. He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for what he knew internally was coming next, resuming his reading.

..But, anyhow, I just wanted to let you know how much I care about you. You know what, no, that's not the right word anymore. I don't just care about you. I love you, or well, I suppose soon, loved you. Not that I ever stopped, mind you, but I might be viewed in the past tense now.

I'm going to end the suffering and pain now, I'm going to do what you all deserve from me after what I've done. My death. You might know who I am, or rather, what a monster I am, and I feel awful that my actions affected you the most out of everyone.

You deserved so much more than me, and I wish I could've been the person who deserved you. But I didn't deserve a fraction of your care, patience, or love. Not even a fraction, never mind you. So, I'm doing this. For everyone. For you. For every time I've hurt you, or made you feel worse than you did before, when you deserved someone better and so much better.

I love you, but I don't deserve you.

I'm tired of the pain, the disappointment, the hate, and all my mistakes.

I'm going to end it all.

Your-Not-So-Secret-Admirer,

Reich.

USSR's eyes widened in pure panic and shock. He dropped the letter to the floor, taking his phone out to call Reich, still panicking. There was no way he'd be able to find the German before he killed himself, he didn't even know where he should start looking. He darted out the door nonetheless, running down the street like Nazi would magically appear around him.

The phone rang and clicked off without a response, only causing USSR's nerves to flay further. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, which he tried to suppress, not wanting to show emotion. He called the German again, scanning the street for any signs or anything he could use to find Reich.

Then the phone clicked on.

"H.. Hello..?" Came the hesitant voice on the other side, making it clear Reich knew very well who it was, and why they were calling.

"Where are you?" USSR questioned bluntly, skipping straight to the point.

"I-- I can't USSR, I'm sorry, I have to do this." Reich responded, stammering slightly. His German accent was thicker than usual, showing he was distressed.

"Please, Reich, don't. I read your letter, I understand how you feel." USSR responded desperately, continuing to move down the street as he spoke, thinking he perhaps should head to Reich's home, but still unsure. "You don't have to do this, I care about you, others care about you."

"You shouldn't care about me!" Came the response. Frustration, sadness, and so many other emotions flooded Reich's voice over the phone as he continued. "I hurt you! I hurt everyone! This is what I deserve!"

"Reich! Please! I love you--" USSR started, wanting to get it out there, thinking that might help calm Reich down, but his words were cut off by a gunshot.

There was silence on the other line.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, no, no, god no.." USSR mumbled, making a mad dash toward Reich's house desperately. This couldn't be happening, especially to him. Everything had just started too get happy, to get enjoyable. Everything was just starting to fix itself. He arrived at the door, kicking it open, making his way into the living room.

He gave a choked sob, finding Reich's corpse limply hung there. He crouched down beside the shorter figure, tears coming from his eyes now on their own time. No, no, no. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Anything but this. He felt for a pulse, giving another choked sob when he found it gone.

This was it. He had lost the one light of his life.

He no longer cared what happened to him.

USSR reached down, giving up in the moment. He took the gun from Nazi's hand gently, like worried he could still hurt him even though he was dead, pointed it at his head and let the trigger sing.

So much for his secret admirer..

--

Woah, look, I did a bad ending for once.