Russia is a child in this and Prussia is a teenager/young adult.
Yeah...so...
I was listening to the "Si deus me relinquit" from the Kuroshitsuji soundtrack and this jumped into my head. So I wrote it. I know the tense changes throughout this - sometimes it's past tense and sometimes it's present tense - but I like it that way.
I dunno. It's cute in a strange kind of way.
-ooo-
I sat there in that snowy park, uncaring of the cold that was slowly swallowing me. My feet were already numb beneath my sneakers and my hands were tucked under my arms, straining to stay warm. My lips were probably blue with the way they shivered. I gritted my teeth to keep them from clattering. My ears could've fallen off and I wouldn't have noticed.
It was so cold, so solitary…
I loved it. I loved immersing myself in this tundra. I felt at peace with my environment. I enjoyed the cold on my skin. Biting. Clawing. It was pure ecstasy.
And everyone knew why.
Because I was this cold on the inside. I could be cruel, calculating. I was so childish at times, I would throw a tantrum. That's why Estonia started wearing glasses. I messed up his vision because he wouldn't look at the picture I had painted. I just wanted to make sure that he wouldn't look at anyone else's painting. But that's why they all cowered in my presence.
Because they were afraid of me.
Why shouldn't they be?
I'm even afraid of myself. I have no one dear to me, no one to hold at night or give Christmas presents to. I am alone.
I am alone.
I feel like I should say it aloud, that maybe it will help me feel better. So I will try to say it…
Nyet, it is too cold. I cannot make words form. Ah well. It is best if I don't say it. As long as the words remain unspoken, then it cannot hurt me. I will be safe. I will be impenetrable.
"Hey there." I look up to see a man. His head is tilted as he looks at me. Sizing me up, probably. I am tall for my age, but I still have childlike features. Instead of acknowledging him, I choose to ignore him and look out to the park. I focus on the monkey bars and the long icicles that spiral down from them. It is so beautiful; I hate to think of children playing on them in the summer.
Children.
We are not as beautiful as icicles. Nor are we unique as snow flakes. Those little fairies dance before my eyes, resting on my lashes. I blink slowly, trying not to disturb them. Most children are not this quiet. Most yell and scream and make messes.
I do not like other children. They can't appreciate this peacefulness. They would only throw this gift of purity around, build forts out of it.
Children should die. All of them. They should be slaughtered. I smile at the thought. Yes, the bodies would be burned for warmth and their blood kept as paint. Perhaps I could paint this blank canvas with bright red colors. It would be so beautiful, even Estonia would love it. General Winter would keep this snow from melting so it could always be beautiful. Everyone would love it and they would love me for creating it. They would stop talking forever just to stare at this art. Their entire life would be spent looking at the way the blood had been splattered across the white.
And it would be beautiful.
And they would love me.
Oh, how they'd love me. They'd never want to leave me. They would let me sleep in their beds, eat with them and read with them. I'd always have someone beside me.
"Hey! Hey kid! You're creepin' me out, you know!" I finally acknowledge the man by giving him a questioning look. He grins at me before sitting down beside me. As if I had asked for him to. How rude.
"Ya looked so pale, I thought you were dead at first! But I'm glad you're okay." He then had the audacity to reach over and pat my head.
"Brrr, you're pretty cold. Here," he took off his coat, "You can wear it for a while. I'm too awesome to get that cold anyway." He draped it over my shoulders and it was immediate relief. I was surrounded by this man's warmth and his scent. He smelled nice, like beer and cologne. When I grow up, I will smell like this too. It's a comforting smell, though vodka would be better than beer. As the warmth stretches through me – like a cat that has woken from a nap – I find that I can talk again.
But as I open my mouth to speak, he beats me to it. He began to talk about his day, his life, describing it all as awesome. I listen to his stories, content to sit here and listen. Normally I don't like people talking, but the way he does, it amuses me. I smile and as he goes on and on, my lids start to gain weight. Eventually, my head lolls to the side and I find myself leaning against his shoulder.
"Eh, hey kid. Don't go to sleep here. That's crazy." He wraps an arm around me and shakes me back up.
"Ivan."
"What?"
"My name…is Ivan." My eyes flick up to his and I freeze. His eyes are as red as fresh blood and his hair as white as the snow we're surrounded by. My thoughts flash to my masterpiece, which was to be the most beautiful thing in the world. But, this man…
This man…
"Well, Ivan. My name's Gilbert. I know; it's an awesome name." He grinned proudly. I lean against him once again, managing a small smile in return.
"Da, it is an awesome name." He blushes, either at my comment or my closeness. Gilbert goes on to tell me more about himself, but I can only think.
He is just like my masterpiece, except he entertains me. But I did not make him, so he is not mine. I wish he was. Then when everybody wanted him, wanted to stare into those ruby pools, I would tell them that they are mine.
Only I can stare into those eyes. Only I can touch that hair. Only I can share his warmth like this.
If he were only mine…
"Would you be mine?" I requested of him. He pulled away enough to look at me, shocked.
"Why would a kid say something like that?" He was shouting, but he didn't look mad. He was honestly surprised, but he looked…scared? I think he is scared.
"I promise I won't hurt you." I told him, reaching up to put my hand on his cheek. He still looks scared.
"I won't hurt you, Gilbert. I only want you to be mine. Everyone will be jealous of me because I'd have you."
"I-Ivan…"
"But they couldn't have you, because you'd be mine. I don't like sharing, you see." I put my other hand on his cheek and got to my knees. The fear was leaving him and now he was thinking about it. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close.
"I am good. Really, I am. I'll do my best to take care of you." I continued, hearing his heart race against my ear. Lightly, so light that I might not have felt it, he wrapped his arms around me.
"Alright, I'll be yours. But you can't tell anyone until you're older, got it?"
"Da!" I hugged him even tighter. Everyone can be jealous later. For now, I am not alone.
"Also, you have to belong to me in return!"
"Why-"
"It's only fair, ja?" With that logic, I couldn't argue. So I leaned up and pecked him lightly on the lips. He, again, shot back in surprise.
"Why'd you do that?" Smiling, I reached up to pet his hair.
"When people belong to each other, don't they normally kiss?" With that logic, he couldn't argue.
"Yeah, I guess they do." He chuckled and kissed me back, except his kiss was different. It was longer and, for some reason, it seemed hotter. I wanted to melt against him and stay that way forever. I began to squirm against him, a newfound yearning rising from the pit of my stomach. He broke our kiss then, smiling sympathetically.
"You'll have to wait for that. I won't do that kind of thing with a kid." He winked at me, like I'm supposed to know what 'that kind of thing' was. I smile anyway and cuddle against him. Ah well.
Once I'm older and everyone is jealous of me and my masterpiece, I'll find out what 'that kind of thing' is. For now though, I'm happy not being alone.
"I am not alone." I whisper. He didn't hear me, I could barely hear myself, but that's alright. It made me feel better just to say it.
Even if there was no one, I will still have my masterpiece.