Hooray! My first upload in, like, a million years! (I feel like Poland, talking like that...) Anyway, this is my first ever Hetalia fanfic (that show is like my personal brand of heroin /shot), and, oddly enough, it's based off a dream I had. Yeah, I wish I had dreams like this every night...
I'm actually not a huge fan of this story... I think it started out okay (seeing as how I was forcing myself to write it so I could show it to a friend), and then it started getting good... however, at one point, I had to cut off, and when I returned to it later, I had completely forgotten what my idea was. To me, it's obvious where that point is, but you can see for yourself.
I don't own anything in this story except for the fact that it was my dream I had... everything else belongs to the amazing creator! 3
Oh, and one more thing - if anyone who reads this happens to speak/read Russian (psh. yeah, right. I barely get ANYONE reading these stories, much less RUSSIANS...) sees this, please tell me if the Russian characters at the beginning are correct... I used Google translate, so they're probably not spot-on...
Well, read & review, please! 333 Russia and Liet are such a sexy couple... (cough)
I Will Not Be Clumsy
Я не буду неуклюж.
Lithuania watched, horrified, as the plates crashed to the floor, almost in slow motion. He didn't even hear them shatter, only saw the thousands of glass and porcelain shards scatter across the floor like a sparkling, deadly snowstorm. With a whimpering cry, he felt his heart race and beads of sweat trickle down his neck. If Russia were to find out... The younger nation unconsciously brushed his hand gently against the scars that littered his arm, his mind drifting off to nights past; times when his body throbbed with pain and the snow white carpets became red... Snapping back into reality, his eyes now somehow brimming with tears of rage, Lithuania realized he had to hurry and clean up every piece of evidence before Russia discovered.
However, before he could do anything, Lithuania felt a hand upon his shoulder, and frigid breath against his ear. His body went rigid, and he squeezed his eyes shut with fear. He had been discovered. "My dear Lithuania..." Russia whispered, a smile in his icy voice. "What's this? You've broken even more plates?" It was a rhetorical question, Lithuania knew. He had learned this the hard way. He had once answered, and his reward for being correct was a slap to the face and bruised ribs.
The younger nation remained silent, his fingers gripping the hem of his shirt tightly. Russia wound an arm around him, his fingers lightly dancing upon his damaged flesh. Lithuania trembled beneath him. As much as he hated Russia's cold touch, he couldn't help but shudder with pleasure... Russia's hands always brought him the most desirable mixture of hatred and joy... Lithuania sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him - he was never able to truly hate the older man.
Suddenly, to Lithuania's mild chagrin, the hands were removed, and he heard the sound of a drawer opening and shutting, and he shuddered, his eyes pricking with tears. He was sure of what would be coming next... the blade would trace upon his skin, opening old wounds and creating new ones... He braced himself for the pain he knew would come, his eyes closed tight. However, he was surprised to hear the sound of the knife clattering to the floor. Opening his eyes, he shivered at what he saw - the knife had landed in the middle of the huge pile of shattered plates. Russia smirked, and he said, "Now, Lithuania... please... could you get my knife for me?"
Trembling, with sweat collecting upon his clenched palms, Lithuania made no noise as he felt Russia's wintry breath upon the back of his neck. With the smallest of nods, the nation took a gentle step towards the shards, his foot hesitating above them. His mind flitted back to his childhood, when he had once stepped on a piece of glass leftover from a shattered bowl, and how he had bled and cried even after it had been removed… Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as he stared at his glimmering adversary. Behind him, Russia's lips were twisted into a sadistic grin.
Lithuania shook as he felt two hands upon his shoulders, and pressure was slowly brought upon him, his foot being forced closer and closer to the glass. His breaths were coming out in whimpering gasps, his nails digging into the skin of his clenched fists as he braced himself. And then, without warning, Russia shoved his foot down, the glass plunging into his exposed feet. Fighting back a scream by biting his lip, tears streamed down Lithuania's face as he used one hand to grip at his chest to stifle the noises he wished to make and the other to steady himself against the nearby counter-top. Russia smiled, his eyes wide and unblinking as they shimmered like a porcelain dolls'. His grip on the younger nation's shoulders tightened for a moment before it was released, inciting a small whimper of pain from the other.
Tenderly bringing his bleeding heel up off the now blemished shards, and simultaneously shuddering as the glass dug further into his toes, Lithuania took a step forward, wincing as the sharp points pierced his tender flesh. Pausing to collect himself, the younger nation couldn't help but allow a few pathetic cries to escape him, tears trickling down his cheeks – tears of anger and futility. Choked gasps were all he could manage as the pain shot through him.
Why? He asked himself as he placed one reddened foot in front of the other, gasping with pain as the glass was embedded deeper and deeper within him, leaving a trail of blood behind. Why did he always have to endure this? Sobbing, Lithuania spotted the knife through blurry eyes, and reached down to pick it up. He whimpered as the shards tore at his pale fingertips, leaving ruby red spots upon the skin.
Lithuania wept and hissed with agony as he turned back towards Russia, his feet now like identical, red-paned stained glass windows; he staggered forward, forcing his mind to numb the pain. Stumbling off of the glittering, painful mountain and onto the cool linoleum, Lithuania was relieved to feel a cool, smooth surface beneath him, instead of the crunching, tearing plates. He handed the knife to Russia with one hand, almost as though he was relieved, and used the other to wipe his tears. Russia's eyes glowed with what could have been happiness as he watched the younger nation slowly crumble before him. His pain was beautiful, like a bird with broken wings attempting flight.
"Lithuania…" He whispered, his free hand gently sliding beneath the others' chin to lift his face up. Russia stared into Lithuania's tear-filled eyes, seeing himself reflected within them, along with unyielding, primitive fear. Smirking at such foolish emotions, he bent down to press his lips surprisingly gently against the others'. The tears still streamed down Lithuania's face even as he closed his eyes, his lips unconsciously returning the un-loving kiss. He found his hands gripping tightly upon the edges of Russia's shirt, his heart pounding with this terrible mixture of hatred and addiction. No matter what happened, he would always find himself craving those lips.
As they parted, Lithuania felt a gentle bite upon his mouth, and a tongue quickly dart out to lap up the resulting blood. Russia leaned back, his eyes staring fondly at the trembling, bleeding nation before him, his mind relishing at the fulfillment he knew would soon arrive.
"Turn around." He commanded. Lithuania gave a weak nod, wincing as the glass twisted and tore at his foot as he spun, even more blood collecting in a small pool beneath him. Ignoring the urge to break out in hysterical sobs, for he knew this would only spur Russia further, Lithuania did as he was told. He always did as he was told. He knew if he didn't, it would only make things worse.
With a shudder, the younger nation felt large, cold hands upon his lower back, and they slowly, ever slowly, made their way upwards, their thumbs hitched upon the hem of his shirt as they slid it off. Palms gently passed across old wounds, and he couldn't help but shiver – those hands were the ones that had given him those scars, along with the ever-eager assistance of a leather whip. Shuddering as Russia pulled the shirt over his head with surprising tenderness, Lithuania soon felt a cool finger being traced along his marred skin, the other hand being used to slither around and stroke up his bare stomach to his chest. Trembling at the simultaneously unwanted and craved touch, Lithuania closed his eyes. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this… no matter what Russia did to him, he could never enjoy it… never…
Eventually, Russia's icy hands came to rest upon his shoulders, and two equally frigid lips were pressed to his neck, and Lithuania could feel teeth against his bruised skin. How many times had Russia done this to him… teased him, abused him, until Lithuania could stand it no more… until he was left, broken and battered, covered in blood, bruises, and bite marks? It seemed too many times to count. And yet, Lithuania could always count on himself to turn into a shuddering, whimpering mass of sick, bloodied pleasure afterwards. It hurt so badly, yet he never truly minded. The pain was worth it to get Russia to do those things to him… if only he could have that one without the other. Besides… Russia was teaching him something, wasn't he? He was punishing him for behaving badly… Lithuania deserved this. He could never hate Russia for it, never… especially when Russia had him like this, trapped between bliss and agony…
"My dear, sweet Lithuania…" Russia breathed, grinning as he saw how Lithuania trembled and gasped at the words. He had him just where he wanted him. This would end beautifully. Gripping the knife tightly with one hand, Russia brought the point to the smaller nation's shoulder blade, smiling as he saw the single, ruby-red drop of blood emerge as he pricked the skin, and he watched it trickle slowly, so slowly, down the scarred contours of the others' back.
"Please… tell me you're sorry…" Russia pleaded, although his voice was anything but. It was tinged with lunacy, all the more amplified as he dug the knife point deeper within the other's pale skin. He grimaced with pleasure as he saw Lithuania shudder and hiss with pain beneath him, the tears trickling down the brunette's face.
"I'm sorry, Russia…" He whispered, his hands tightly clenched together. Gasping and choking as he felt the knife trail across his abused back, he repeated the apology like a mantra under his breath, as though the words would heal all the wounds that had been inflicted to him by the other.
"I'm sorry, Russia, I'm so sorry… forgive me, please, Russia… I'm sorry…" He breathed, his eyes swimming with tears as he stared blurrily at the shimmering, bloody floor beneath him. His breathing increased in tempo as the knife point began to cut with even more ferocity, the tears coming faster than he could even attempt to wipe them away.
Behind him, Russia's face was the embodiment of insanity, his eyes wide and shimmering, his lips in a horrible, twisted grimace of sick pleasure. The words began to spell themselves out with terrifying rapidity, and Russia almost chuckled with horrific delight as he saw the blood stream down Lithuania's back and merge into one large, crimson trail.
Eagerly, and with his lettering complete, Russia leaned forward to lap and kiss at the wonderful scarlet liquid that oozed out of the fresh wounds upon Lithuania's back. Beneath him, Lithuania's face was flushed with never-ceasing pain and delight, his irregular breathing interrupted by horrified sobs and cries. Why? He asked himself again. Why did it have to feel so good, yet so terrible…?
Russia's tongue traced greedily along the still fresh whip marks, eliciting shivers of pain from the other. The scars would never heal; they would always be there, constant reminders of Russia's twisted tokens of what Lithuania could only assume were love. Russia and love… two words that could never seem to be in a sentence together. However, to Lithuania, this was how he believed Russia expressed whatever feelings he had that could even approximate to love. Maybe…
Having consumed enough of the other nation's blood to suit him, Russia leaned back, smiling proudly at his handiwork. Staring back at him in crimson tones were the words 'I will not be clumsy'. Leaning forward once more, Russia kissed each letter gently, smiling into the kiss as he felt Lithuania shudder appreciatively beneath him. He loved seeing the other squirm. Sliding a hand around the brunette's waist, he spun him around so the two were eye level. Paralyzed with fear and pain, Lithuania stared without seeing, his eyes glazed over with what felt like a permanent coating of tears. He could feel the leftover drops of blood trickling down his back, only adding to the scarlet pool on the floor. By now, his shredded feet were numb, the glass so far deep in his foot that it just didn't seem to matter anymore, even though blood still oozed out.
"Good boy…" were the whispered words that come from Russia as he pressed two cold, strong lips to Lithuania's. Shuddering as he tasted himself on the other, Lithuania still eagerly pressed himself against the older nation, wanting to make the pleasurable part of this experience last as long as possible. However, he was sorely dissapointed when Russia pulled away, leaving his lips even rosier than before with a shimmering coat of blood.
Staring up at the other, his eyes screaming a million questions, Lithuania began to sob. These weren't just tears of sadness rolling down his face, they were tears of anger, frustration, hopelessness, fear, pain. Everything bottled up inside him that he wished to scream out at the top of his lungs was now bubbling to the surface in the form of heavy, unstoppable sobs. Dropping to his knees, the sting as the class cut his bare skin barely a pinprick compared to how he was truly feeling, he allowed himself to break down completely in front of Russia. He found himself clawing at Russia's legs, trying to find something stable in his life to hold on to, anything that couldn't be changed by one crack of the whip or one slice of a blade. Something that made sense, was warm and strong and would never try to hurt him.
However, as Russia frowned coldly at him, he realized in the back of his mind – this was not the pillar to hold on to. As he felt Russia's strong hands upon his collar begin to squeeze his neck, he knew. He assumed he had always known. This was no pillar, and it never would be. Russia was the crumbling remains of what had once been beautiful, now neglected and left to its own devices. Eventually, it would eat away at itself until there was nothing left. Right now, Lithuania was sure that Russia was very close to just slipping away and leaving nothing but a silent, dangerous shell of would could have once been a good, compassionate nation. There were those rare moments of tenderness, where Russia would be quietly apologizing for his actions – the excuses weak, but there was always the effort. Lithuania would always smile without happiness as Russia would bury his face within the other's hair, whispering "I love you, I love you" as though it were a soothing mantra. However, at the end of the day, Lithuania would always look at his reflection and see the scars – the ones that Russia had created. The ones that Russia attempted to mend with words… the scars that would never heal.
Russia's hand wrapped around the other's wrist, dragging him up off the floor from where he had been clinging so desperately, their gazes meeting for a brief instant. Lithuania's eyes were filled with tears and dread, Russia's were hard and angry. His heart leaping into his throat, Lithuania closed his eyes as Russia flung him across the floor and into the pile of sparkling powder, the glass easily tearing at his skin and creating pools of red upon the floor.
Gasping with pain, Lithuania looked up at the older nation, wincing at every movement, for it only caused the shards to cut him even more. His hands gripped the splintery tile for support, red puddles ebbing out beneath his palms.
"Get all this cleaned up by the time you make dinner. Wouldn't want any unfortunate accidents to happen to anyone, now would we…?" Russia commanded, a twisted smirk on his face. Lithuania gave a tiny nod, and reached for the counter-top to pull himself up, hissing as the glass was driven further into his crimson skin. Gasping sobs escaped his mouth as soon as Russia left the room, and he clutched his bloodstained face in his hands, not caring about the shards that tore at his skin like the teeth of a wild animal.
Removing his prickling, tingling hands from his equally stinging face, Lithuania carefully picked his way across the shards, and began to hunt for the broom and dustpan.
He would never be clumsy again.
A/N: SUPER CHEESY BAD LAME ENDINGS FTW. Yeah. I just wanted to finish this thing. Obviously rushed. R&R, please~! 333