A/N
Hi there! Firstly, a few things:
1. I don't own Hetalia, Himapapa does :)
2. TRIGGER WARNING - this story will contain mentions of drug and alcohol abuse/self harm/eating disorders/other mental issues etc. Read on at your own risk.
I hope you enjoy, and if you would, please leave a review!
-Louise
He doesn't know how he ended up in the bedroom of a stranger with Emil Steilsson and Kaoru Xiao Chun, or at what party. He doesn't remember a lot of things about that night, save for the cool, sweet release after the needle slid into his arms. He couldn't jab himself the first time, so Emil leant over and silently tied the cord around his arm, slid the needle into his skin with practised ease.
It hit him seconds later.
The world took on a strange, dreamlike quality. His thoughts faded into the background, his mind far more preoccupied with other things, like how pretty and shadowy the faint light from the lamp made the room look. He heard Emil let out a moan and he knew his new friend was joining him in this world of beauty and forgetfulness.
On his other side, Kaoru was fiddling with a razor blade, drawing his sleeves up and pressing down. Matthew watched him with dreamy fascination as blood welled up and spilled over where he'd made the incision.
"I wanna..." He mumbled, brushing his fingers against Kaoru's leg. Kaoru wordlessly handed the blade over and Matthew mimicked his actions, surprised by just how little he felt. The blood was so pretty, so dark and lovely. He imagined that it was poison seeping out from his veins, so he made another cut to get the poison out faster. And another. Then Kaoru took the razor back and mumbled something to Emil. The silver-haired boy had thrown his head back, eyes rolling back into his skull as he smiled. Peacefulness, that's what this was. Matthew didn't have to think about his father or his failing grades or a mother that had died so long ago he couldn't remember her face.
"Thought you were…" Emil suddenly turned to look at him, his eyes half-lidded, "a good kid."
Matthew pondered this for a moment. He supposed he looked like one, with the glasses, the simple jeans-and-hoodie combo he wore everywhere and his general soft-spokenness. He smiled lazily, pulling his sleeve down and letting the blood seep into the fabric.
"Not inside my head." He replied quietly.
And then it worsened.
He'd never taken advantage of his father's continued emotional absence before, but now he relished in it.
"I'm going out." He said to his father's back, the television far too loud. His father didn't even turn around. Matthew wondered if he'd even heard him, but supposed it didn't matter. He wouldn't check to see if he was in his room. They lived in the same house and that was the extent of their relationship anymore. His father had no idea how to be a father and Matthew was quickly forgetting how to be a good son. A brief flash of guilt washed over him, but he dismissed it. Ms Cortez from next door checked on his father pretty regularly, helping him sober up and do some housework. He'd be fine.
Matthew stepped out into the cool night air, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from trembling. How long had it been since his last hit? Far too long. He'd run out and the only way he was going to get more was through Emil. Hopefully he was feeling charitable today.
He walked the dark streets, shivering slightly in the cold. The winters were much colder back in Canada, where he'd grown up, but still the frigid weather bit at his skin. Emil's house wasn't too far – a few blocks, really – and he didn't mind the walk.
He didn't bother knocking when he arrived, just pushed open the unlocked door and stepped inside. He'd texted Emil to let him know he was coming and the Icelandic boy had told him just to come up. His parents weren't home at his brother didn't leave his room. Still, Matthew called out a greeting to the closed bedroom door as he passed it on his way to Emil's. He heard a grunted reply from the other side and chuckled a little to himself. Lukas had no idea that his baby brother and his friend were shooting up just two rooms from where he was sitting. It wasn't a conclusion many people would jump to. Probably just thought they were fucking, or something. Not that they didn't.
It didn't matter that Emil was in a sort-of relationship with Kaoru, or that Matthew was hopelessly hung up on Gilbert Beilschmidt. Heroin made the lines of reality blur enough that to them, the sex was normal. It was good sex – Emil could make him gasp and moan and feel things that before then he'd never known existed – but the aftermath brought only guilt and a flicker of shame.
Matthew twisted the doorknob and opened the door to Emil's bedroom, grinning a little. Emil regarded him with a half-smile in return, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a small shoebox in front of him.
"Hey." Matthew said quietly, shutting the door behind him.
"Hey, Matt." Emil replied, patting the space beside him on the bed. Matthew crossed the room and settled himself down, tugging up his sleeves. He barely noticed the purplish bruises and angry red lines that littered his forearms anymore. They were a part of him now.
"I'm meeting with Ivan tomorrow." Emil said, filling a needle with the liquid they both so desperately craved. Matthew's pulse quickened at the sight of it. "Skipping out on last period. Wanna come with?"
"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled, too focused on the drug that was so close to really focus on anything Emil was saying. "Hurry the fuck up with that, would you? It's been nearly 24 hours."
Emil shook his head. "Told you to plan ahead." He muttered, handing a needle to Matthew. Matthew shrugged.
"Pot fights off the need for a bit." He replied, "Figured I could get through the day."
He felt the familiar pinch of the needle going in, pressing down and watching the liquid shoot into his bloodstream. He pulled it out when he was done, ignoring the pain and the trickle of blood, and tossed it unceremoniously into the shoebox.
"Fuck." He breathed, his head lolling on his shoulders as the effects of the drug took over his mind. "Fuck. So good…"
Emil had shot up himself, putting the lid on the shoebox and sliding it under his bed. They'd almost been caught so many times because they'd left the tools of their vices out in the open. Together they lay there, captivated by hallucinations and absolute calmness that took over them. After a while, Matthew leant over to nuzzle his face against Emil's neck. Emil was all too willing to accommodate what Matthew wanted. He rolled over so he was on top of the blonde, staring into his eyes with a familiar gleam of lust mirroring his own. He pressed a kiss to Matthew's mouth, smiling as Matthew leant up to meet him. Emil moved back, trailing his hands down Matthew's stomach until they rested on his hips. His fingers snuck underneath the heavy red fabric, leaving goose bumps where his fingers ran over Matthew's pale skin.
"Not slow." Matthew grunted, grabbing Emil's hands and pulling them away from his stomach. He tugged off his sweatshirt and jumper and began to unbutton Emil's shirt. Emil closed his eyes and let Matthew continue, not resisting when his own shirt joined the pile of the floor. He climbed off Matthew and lay back on the bed, letting Matthew undo his jeans and pull out his cock.
It was routine from then on. Bob your head, suckle it, lick the length. Wrap your hand around the base, pull back and breathe. Emil shivered, Matthew's warm breath tickling his length. "Fuck…" He mumbled as Matthew continued his ministrations. Then he grabbed his hand, pulling him up so he was resting on top of him and crashing their lips together in a kiss.
There was no more talking after that. Emil pressed two fingers into Matthew's mouth and the Canadian sucked them obediently, hissing a little in pain as Emil took them back and pressed them inside him. It always hurt at first.
The fingers left him and Matthew felt Emil position himself at his entrance, pushing gently inside. Emil's soft fucking was such a change from Ivan's rough, angry thrusting or Lars' loud, powerful strokes. He bit his knuckles to keep from crying out, his cheeks flushing. He mewled weakly as Emil hit his prostate, ecstasy washing over him. His fingers curled around the bed sheets and he whimpered. Ivan's voice rang in his mind. You're such a good little slut, Matvey. My favourite little toy.
A shiver of fear went up his spine and he forced himself to remember that this was Emil, not Ivan. Emil moaned as he came, pulling out and collapsing beside Matthew on the bed. Matthew rolled over, frowning.
"Fuck you." He growled, grabbing Emil's hand and forcing it onto his cock. "I didn't even get off." Emil chuckled softly, moving his hand up and down.
"You got your fix, so why are you complaining?" He replied, but continued to pump until Matthew cried out, finally finishing.
Matthew closed his eyes as Emil drew the covers up around them. They didn't cuddle like other couples would, simply lay there side by side on the bed smelling of sweat and sex and satisfaction. No, cuddling was something he imagined Emil would do with Kaoru, not with him.
You got your fix, so why are you complaining? As Matthew slipped into unconsciousness, he remembered Emil's question. Why, indeed? Their relationship was largely one-sided. Emil held the power – he let Matthew bum heroin from him when he was too broke to buy more and in return Matthew let Emil fuck him. If he wasn't so fucked up beyond belief, he might've found something wrong with that.
But he didn't, and so it continued.
