Alright. So I'm in the mood for some dramatic crap, and yeah. This might be a whole series of sadshots. We'll see~ For now, just tell me what you think. Main pairing is Spamano. There might be other pairings, but don't expect it. Without further ado, here we go. This certain fic was inspired by the song 'Kiss It All Better' by He Is We. This won't be updated regularly, I already have a hard time enough doing that with my normal stories XD

I do not own Hetalia or the song. Remember that.

Antonio wasn't scared. For about ten years now, he had been awaiting the fate that would inevitably come whether he liked it or not, so there was no point to be scared. His fellow Death Row inmates constantly prayed to God for forgiveness, or even cursed the system. Some held tight to their 'I'm innocent!' ploy, as if they could get the jury to change their minds now. Antonio personally thought they were all idiots.

He sighed; setting himself on the brick they called a bed, placing his head in his hands. He was ready to die; he had been for ten years. It was about time they let him do so. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to do something he tried not to do often: remember. He remembered olive green eyes, burning with passion and fire that only his beautiful little Italian could possess. He remembered dark auburn hair and a wayward curl that flinched to the touch. He remembered the way the fine hairs on the side of that face formed a cowlick, and he remembered the few freckles that decorated the plump, cute cheeks.

But with the memory, he saw a gun. He saw the barrel as a small flash of light took everything he lived for away from him.

And with the memory of that gun, he could remember his gun. He could smell the gunpowder and the blood spurting from the back of the man that took everything. The bastard deserved the death Antonio dealt, and even to this day the Spaniard felt no regrets to taking another life. He normally didn't believe in revenge but…this time was different.

"Hey, you." The door to his cell squeaked open, a plump guard waiting on the other side, "It's time."

Without showing the guard any form of communication, Antonio stood up, following him out of the prison and into a black car. He barely registered the cuffs slapped around his wrists, and he didn't pay attention to the drive as they arrived at the place he would die. In the building, he would be served a last meal, -Dios. Tacos sound good. Do you remember eating tacos with me, Lovino?-

No answer of course. He wasn't expecting one.

As promised, he was served tacos for his last meal, along with churros and plump, red tomatoes, obviously store bought but he wasn't complaining. They reminded him of his dear Italian.

And now, the final moments were drawing near, just ahead of him was the door to the table he'd get strapped to and die. Absently, he allowed himself to go back to the night that changed his life forever, the tears in his eyes wishing to well up but they inevitably never did.

Flash. Bang. Thud.

The three sounds happened in less than a second, yet Antonio felt like it spread across two thousand years. In his arms, he saw Lovino's eyes widen in shock, Antonio's name leaving his lips in nothing more than a pained whisper. Antonio felt his own eyes grow with horror; unable to do anything other than keep a hold of Lovino's body as it fell limp to the ground.

"An—tonio…" Lovino choked out, one hand clutching Antonio's shirt, the other clasped tightly to his chest. Antonio felt blood seeping onto his hand, the hand he was using to support Lovino's back. It made him want to wretch. The man who had shot Lovino muttered out a curse, turning and running as fast as he could go. He was no doubt aiming for Antonio; for Antonio had been in a lot of trouble during his youth. It was his fault…Lovino was dead because of him…

Lovino's eyes were turned up, meeting Antonio's in a heartbreaking, pained gaze. Tears glazed the olive orbs, one daring to slip out, making a trail out of the corner of his eye.

"Antonio..." Lovino cried, a suppressed sob following the name, "Antonio.." his hand clutched tighter, though his other palm went up to cup Antonio's face.

"¿S-sí, mi corazon?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Lovino's eyes emitted more tears, "Kiss it all better…" his voice was pleading, begging, scared. "Please, Antonio…kiss it better…I'm not r-ready… I'm not ready to go…"

His heart shattering in pieces, Antonio held Lovino closer, kissing the boy softly, "I'm so sorry…Lovino, I'm so sorry…"

Lovino's hand started shaking against his face, the hand previously clutching Antonio's shirt coming up to cup his other cheek, "It's not your fault, Love…you didn't know." He coughed, a soft splatter of blood leaving his mouth, "You didn't know…"

Antonio stared at the blood in revulsion, wiping it off with the hand not supporting Lovino. In his head, rage started boiling up, making his hands itch to rip the bastard who did this apart. He resolved right then and there that he would get revenge, which he inevitably did, shooting the man in the back the way he shot Lovino. Right now though, he had to be there for Lovino. His dying angel.

"It'll be alright…shh…" He whispered, trying to be comforting despite his own nearness to breaking down.

"Tch. Liar." Lovino grumbled, wincing as another bout of pain washed through him.

"I promise, you'll be fine…we'll be fine…" Antonio's voice was nearing hysteria, terror filling his whole being as the life in Lovino's eyes started to drain.

"Please just kiss it better…" Lovino's voice got weaker, his hands growing limp.

"No!" Antonio cried, his free hand clasping over Lovino's to keep it on his face, "No, Lovino!" tears freely flowed from his eyes now, making up for the dullness that filled Lovino's.

He sobbed for an hour, wailing his sorrow into the night sky.

The hand he kept on his face grew cold.

The eyes so filled with fire were distinguished.

But it was okay now. The needle entered and left his skin cleanly, though it caused Antonio mild discomfort. He never did like injections. Soon, the substance inside the syringe would fill his system. He'd likely just fall asleep and never wake up.

The executioner left the room, allowing Antonio to be alone.

"You bastard. You got yourself killed because of me."

Lovino stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, scowl on his face. Antonio barely lifted his head, he was feeling too tired to do so, saying nothing.

"I can't say that I'm proud of you…" Lovino muttered, walking to stand next to the table. "But I will admit I've missed you a lot, bastard."

Antonio swallowed thickly, a small smile playing on his lips, enjoying the sound of his dead lover's voice. The voice that had haunted him since that dreadful day. Sleepiness was taking over his entire being, though he managed to choke out his last words, his last plea.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep." He couldn't see Lovino's reaction, but he felt a cool hand over his own and fingers brushing his hair from his face. The touch was so soothing and beautiful it choked Antonio, making him cry softly though a smile spread across his face. "Stay with me…"

"I won't leave, Antonio. I never have."