WARNING(S): Slash, Blood, Implied Sex
He watches Toris collapse to the white (but it's not white anymore, it's red, redredred like an apple) with flat blue eyes. Limp, lank brown hair is stained (soakedmattedwashed) with blood that seeps sluggishly from his wounds. (Some he put there). He kneels in the white (red) snow and buries a wet glove in the hair (used to be so soft) and tilts the bruised (battered, broken) face towards the sky. Empty emeralds stare (they glare, they accuse) into his own.
"He is dead, comrade."
A shining metal pipe (dripping thick, sticky blood. Toris' blood.) enters his line of vision and he glances up into bright (sadisticgleefulhatefilledlustful) violet irises shadowed by wheat hair (also covered in blood, like his own. God it's everywhere).
"I know." he replies, his voice as devoid of emotion as his eyes (once bright, clear like a sapphire stone). The knife is comfortable in his grip (the one he plunged into Toris's rib cage) and he leans down to cut the patch from the country's sleeve. It'll go in his little drawer of memories (proof of his sins). Next to Arthur's coat (torn and spotted with muddy red), Matthews glasses (frames bent, lenses cracked), Ludwig's cross (corners chipped), and Kiku's katana (rusted and broken). There's more, pieces of each country (person) that has fallen before them both.
He pockets the fabric in his (stained) leather jacket and stands, facing the other nation. He meets the smile with his own, expressionless look (emotions are of no use in this barren world they've created together) and just nods. It's returned and the two silently (words have lost meaning between the two) turn and trudge through the blindingly white (redstainedtainted) snow, leaving the cooling corpse (no longer a person) to be buried in the vast wastelands.
Snow collects in their hair, changing the shades of blonde to a white (new snow, clean). Flakes dust his eyelashes, he doesn't feel the cold (like the land, like his heart).
A dark structure, looming in the expanse of emptiness (it feels like the only structure in the world) enters their vision. The windows are dark, proof that its inhabitants are not home. The taller nation stalks up to the door (tan coat splotchy with red) and opens the door. It creaks ominously but he isn't afraid (he isn't anything anymore). It's the closest thing he can call home now.
"Come, comrade. We need to clean up."
He slides the patch into a side table drawer (his fingers brush over an inky lock of hair that once belonged to Yao) then follows blindly (like an obedient puppy), dropping clothes through the freezing home. He enters the bathroom, sees the pipe leaning against the wall (red flaking now) and the scarf (almost) caringly folded next to the sink. A hand of ice falls onto his naked lower back and they both step into the shower, steam billowing through the room already.
The water runs pink, cleansing their bodies (but not their souls) of the dark fluid. Hands (still like ice despite the water flushing their skin) caress his body gently (mockingly). His own wrapped around thick biceps, lips parting in the moans he knows the other wants let free.
They're a clash of frozen skin, cruel lips, cutting remarks. Life filters back into blue eyes as he growls obscenities against the others (soft) skin and hears them whispered in kind.
"I hate you (I love you). Communist bastard (Don't leave me alone)."
"The feeling is mutual (I love you too). Capitalist pig (You're all I have)."
He's stretched wide open, pain searing up his spine (the only type of feeling he can get), being pushed, slammed against the wall. Nails rake down the bigger nation's back (more blood for the water to dilute pink) teeth nip at his lips.
The unmuffled noises echo through the house, going unheard by anyone (because they're all gone). Alone on a window sill (framed by the snow storm forever being raged by General Winter) a sunflower wilts slowly. A single dirty yellow petal detaches and floats to join it's companions littering the floor. Nestled together and still a warm shade of yellow (sole source of warmth in the house), two petals remain.
Чем
Title means 'Bloody Sunflowers'
