I need to stop with the Hetalia-ness XD
A quick drabble I wrote because I was craving -teehee- a bit of a masochistic Liet.
Please enjoy!
I couldn't tell you why, exactly, I crave the abuse. There's a twisted desire in me to constantly break dishes, talk back, and innocently interrupt his paperwork with tea, when he's already annoyed and brimming with hostility. I need to see his cold eyes driving into mine, hear the crack of the whip as it's brought down onto my back to slice through flesh and into bone, and feel that heavily amused smirk that blossoms across his face as I let loose a moan or cry of excitement.
That's when he asks why I like it, and I say I don't know. I really don't. I want to say that the more I tolerate, the more I get, and the more I get, the less my brothers have to endure. He doesn't believe that, obviously, because he knows more than I do. Surprising, really, because he's been locked away in insanity since just after Berwald's attack, and that was centuries ago.
It's now that I realize why I enjoy this. I love this man, this tyrant who has seen too many battles and too much bloodshed and far too many dark corners of Hell to be normal. I love him with a passion, a need to comfort him, console him, pamper him, and do anything for him. It's no wonder to me now why I always came back to him, after so many failed attempts at independence.
As this thought consumes me, I suddenly feel the pain lift away and I'm euphoric, finally visiting the land of his insanity. It's cold, freezing, but I could care less, because I crave this twisted man of mine.
Reviews appreciated, not demanded, and flames will be used to stoke the fire of Mrs. Lovett's oven.