The stain spreads slowly, seeping through the nation's clothing. The scream released from his victim mirrors the one of Ivan, locked up in the back of his mind, hidden away under the bloodlust and desperation of insanity.
He listens to the smash of his pipe, cracking bones and drawing blood and oh dear god he needs out.
It isn't until that thought, not until the disgusting red sap is dripping from his cheek, that he regains some semblance of control. And, once he's realized what he's done, the sight in front of him makes him sick. He drags Lithuania down the hall and shoves the bleeding Baltic at his younger brothers, their eyes wide with fear and panic. Estonia takes the boy carefully while Latvia hurls himself to the bathroom, whether to vomit or to find some sort of first aid, Ivan doesn't know.
The man retreats then, returning to his room and allowing the countries to look after each other. He hopes that he can forget for just a moment, that he can avoid remembering how kind Lithuania had been to him all those years ago or how much he, Ivan, doesn't want to act on his deep seated insanity. He doesn't want to think of how he's slowly getting more and more out of hand, or how the blood is still clinging to his clothes and skin. He just wants to sleep.
He stumbles into the bathroom, shedding bloody fabric as he goes, to scrub away the blood. He ignores the cloth folded next to the sink in favour of the hard, sharp bar of soap that turns his skin a burning red after a minute of use. He doesn't stop until the blood has all disappeared only to be replaced with his own, sliding to the surface by way of cuts where the soap has scratched off his skin.
"Ivan." The voice is only half there, quiet and whispered.
He glances up at the mirror, pausing for just a second at the sight of the blond in the doorway. Matvey's eyes are locked on his hands, full with worry and sadness, and, though most in the boy's position would be worried about the beaten nation down the hall, Matvey is only worried about Ivan. The larger man knows this, and it scares him.
He only wastes a moment wondering why the Canadian is there, it's not too hard to figure out, Matvey is very close to both Lithuania and Ukraine. He's even closer to Ivan as well, but the Russian would rather not think about that at the moment.
The next thing he knows, soft pale hands are covering his, lowering the soap back to the counter with careful determination, running water over the ruined skin and patting them dry as lightly as he can with his hands shaking the way they are. Ivan knows that he shakes from fear, but one glance at the violet eyes tell him, loud and clear, that he's afraid for Ivan, rather than of him.
That fact alone gives Ivan back the control he's been searching for.
The hands never leave his skin, shifting instead to his wrists, where he grips gently as he pulls Ivan out of the bathroom and to the bed. Ivan studies the boy he had called weak so often in the past. Since then he's learned better, he knows just how strong his Canadian is. Knows how he can convince anyone to do just about anything, no matter how strange it would be for the person, so when the boy settles Ivan into the bed, covers wrapped around him, he's not surprised. He's not even surprised when the boy claims his hands from the spot next to the bed and, carefully, always carefully, wraps the self inflicted wounds.
He isn't surprised when the boy kisses him softly, or when he turns out the light and slides outside with the unsaid, lingering promise of his return the following day. The words don't need to be said, they both know it's true. They're both pleased that it's true.
And so, when he wakes the next morning to the smell of pancakes cooking and finds that, though the baltic countries have returned to their homes after the short visit, his house is nowhere near to empty. It's full of smells and laughter and the singing of a normally quiet nation. Ivan is comfortable here, with his beautiful little Canadian. He's even comfortable when, later that day, Matvey invites Ukraine and Belarus to visit, insisting that Ivan talk to his sisters.
Any other day he would have run, but today, with Matvey, he makes Blini and welcomes his sisters into the house.
Belarus glares at Canada, though it's much less threatening than it would have been before she started spending so much time with the blond's brother. Ukraine just smiles when she sees the boy, his presence and the warmth that seems to fill the house are enough to convince her that whatever the bandages on her little brother's hands are covering is being looked after. That her little brother is being looked after.
Later that night, after the sisters have left, while helping with the dishes piled in the sink, Matvey whispers in a quiet voice that Lithuania is fine, most of his injuries have already healed and he's okay. The boy has even forgiven Ivan, after Matvey's careful explanation.
The relief that sweeps through Ivan is powerful enough to make him stop his movements for just long enough to pull the other against him in a crushing hug.
Every nation close to Ivan is aware of just how lost he can get at times. They know how horribly his history has affected him. Every nation close to Matthew knows just how determined he is to help the other. They know that he will stop at nothing to reach the man. No one knows, however, sees the way the two are when alone together. They don't see the way Matthew clings to Ivan while he sleeps or how Ivan will do just about anything if his Matvey just asks him to if just to make the younger nation laugh.
Matthew's family and friends disapprove of the two, as do Ivan's at times. But, it never seems to have any affect on the two. Because, quite simply, they don't see, just how much the two love each other.
I apparently lack the ability to write anything that isn't romance of some sort.
Originally this was just going to be angst, there also wasn't any Canada in the original plan. Now just about all of it is about their relationship... what the hell...
Sorry for the cheesy ending. Thanks so much for reading! Please review? Even if it's flames?