A/N: did this in one go and I had Anastasia in my head "Once Upon a December" And various orchestra music. And I can relate to Russia's feelings here.
And yes, there is a lot of literary techniques, and symbolism so be open-minded :) pleae review
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the character(s).
Cold. Numb.
The only comfort was the slight burn he was accustomed to. The bitter beloved taste lingering in his breath. Comfort, inadequate but just enough to begin the process of succumbing to darkness. Consuming the clear waters without a second longer then to swallow, quick sensation, then lingering tingles to beg for another swig. Take whole. Rid this empty feeling: the accomplice of inhalation.
His heart was battered, sore and yearning. Anger a reaction, the loneliness took lead of its damsel, 1-2-3 and 1-2-3 and spin-out and back-3-4 step left-2-3-4.
His mind blurred trying desperately to keep in step with the ballroom orchestra. Every emotion waltzed each coupled with their partner but there he stood alone, forced to watch and feel the trembles in the floor. He took in the radiant details of the Дворцо́вая пло́щадьin its glory. Golden arches that contrasted the frosted glass, keeping out the frozen delicate sky fall. Each tile and gold decoration polished to perfection. Columns stood tall strong and triumphant. That was the time there was an outlet of pride and admiration. He was entranced with its beauty completely unaware of the waltz around him.
A Faceless figure took hold and drew him in the organized fox step and heart racing foot falls of tune but the lead was strong. Guiding him across the floor letting him spin out to stumble into another figure's grasp. And 1-2-3-and back-2-3. Frost began to make their breathtaking designs across his hold. Creeping its way up his arm and across his hip. Images began to take his full attention.
He took her away. She gladly went with him. 2-3-4 and 1-. The tears meant nothing, she cried through all emotions. They left happily no matter the consent. 3-4-.
And over and back then twirl and catch.
This faceless' embrace was sharp and protruding, the pain seized as another collage of images teased across his mind's eye. His own betrayal, no matter the warning of his younger he trudged in the waters of the newcomer, blindly walked into the path of his own pain. Pushed away his younger to get closer to the bewildering being. Which now gave way of the heartbreak. And wrap around they paused the figure held fast around the torso, wrapping round and tightening, squeezing all element of breath from his body. And another series of images played. The cold winter night creeping upon the two passionately entangled in one another. Heat conflicting with the cold. Not a care in the world. Just movements in sync, and eyes locked, tango of tongues. Beats of hearts in metronome. 1-2. 3-4.
Lust. Was all it was. There was no possibility of it ever to grow to more.
The boy lonely in the snow. In a land where nothing grew. The frigid climate took chokehold to all that held essence of life. But yet the boy was there surviving. Growing to be as cold as the frosted air and crunchy snow. Despite the innocent perception.
He was suffocating and it was just fine. His body begged to differ, shivering and trembling fighting for release against the bonds of the faceless dancer. The room lost its lively order and grace as the panes recede and shatter allowing entry of the blowing winter consuming the order and class. Burning amber consumes the room. the burning of another swallow. Burn white-hot then die down with lukewarm coals, begging to re-ignite.
The eyes close enforcing darkness, sweet painless darkness. привет darkness! утвердить окоченение! Repeat once more the feeling of death for a moment's peace. A moment without feeling, without vulnerabilities of the heart or the nerves. Just being aware of nothing.
~Chahiiro