# Repentance (Broken! DenNor) #
M-rated; Contains sadism, violence (lots of), character death, general insanity from both parties, etc. Maybe rape?
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DARoma; Ah...the idea for this, funnily enough, came from Higurashi no naku koro ni. Anyone who's read/saw it, remember how Satoko was when Satoshi disappears? Yup. Originally this was going to be SpaMano, but I just overuse that pairing to the shithouse. So...le DenNor.
China; She doesn't own Hetalia, aru.
Canada; ...I don't like this story...
China; *brandishes wok* Who's there, aru?! Do you want to die?!
Canada;...not really...
Iceland; ...poor onii-chan...
Norway; *appears suddenly* What was that?
Iceland; ...nothing.
Canada; Does anyone care if China's going to kill me?
Iceland: I don't even know who you are, why would I care?
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The sharp blade cut right though the tendons in the small Norwegian's shoulder and stuck there, still quivering slightly. Lukas Bondevik took a sharp intake of breath as a hot, hard wave of pain hit him like a truck, but fought his screaming consciousness to stay silent, to freeze until the danger had passed. The rough, stained cloth of his blindfold covering his eyes obscured his vision from the person who had been torturing him, the same ritual that had been carrying on for the past few days. He had no idea what the time was, or how long he'd been held down here. It felt endless, like his sole purpose was to endure while the world and time passed him by.
He heard the chilling, awfully familiar laugh and curled up on the cold, damp concrete floor, almost as if he could escape the pain if he ignored it. Naturally, it didn't work, but it was worth a shot.
Even through all this, the tiny sliver of hope he still had clung to him like a barnacle, although he'd rather get rid of it and give in to the screaming insanity lurking at the edges of his mind.
He was just being taught a lesson.
God had forsaken him because he had sinned so much.
If he- if he just endured a little while longer, God would forgive him.
And Matthias would come to rescue him.
Matthias.
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"Oh God," he heard his voice breathe as he sat himself upright. The room was empty again; he could tell by the sounds of the room now. He was painfully aware of the knife wound, but it seemed like the blade had been yanked out while he was unconscious. He could feel the blood sinking past his bare chest and onto his pants. It felt absolutely revolting, and smelt even worse, but he pushed it aside, fighting back his fear and emotions until he couldn't feel them any more. Then he took in a steady breath and began feeling around with his other hand. His torturer could have left something he could use this time...
Nothing.
He held back his frustration. If he was going to survive he needed control. Control. He took a shaking breath, and another, until the pain had started to recede to a dull, painful ache.
"Matthias, where are you?" he mumbled into the cold floor as he slipped sideways, falling unconscious again.
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"Luke, please, just one date!" Matthias begged, his bright blue eyes making an amazing contrast to the rest of his slightly muscled body that Lukas had to take a moment to collect his thoughts to reply.
"No."
"Aw...but why not? I haven't done anything wrong!"
"I know that, it's just-"
"No! I'm taking that as a yes! I'll pick you up at six, alright!"
He stood up and practically skipped back to where Alfred and Gilbert were waiting to go to lunch, high-fiving them when he got there. Lukas watched him, not bothered enough to remind him they had a meeting at that time.
What he didn't think was that Matthias knew there was a meeting.
"C'mon, it's not like we ever do anything during them anyway!" He wouldn't listen to any of Lukas's protests, ignoring them to better his situation. "What's the point of asking if you're just going to force me into it?" Lukas said, bemused as Matthias grasped his hand and began pulling him down the corridor. "But, but, you want to go, right?" The Norwegian rolled his eyes, but a faint smile still managed to fight to his face.
"Fine, Danmarks."
"Yay!" The bigger man fist pumped the air and kept walking.
And that was how they started going out.
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"...As far as first dates go, it wasn't terrible, even if he didn't buy dessert," he murmured to himself, not opening his eyes just yet. It wasn't like the blindfold let him see anything anyway. He didn't face his bleak reality unless it was needed. He could hear the dripping of a faucet or something to his left; it was too bad he was chained by one leg to the wall. He tugged at it experimentally but all he got for his effort was yet another ache.
He let out a groan.
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"Can I at least have a name?" His voice came out in barely a whisper as the rusted nail ran across the skin of his left hand. "Not any I would tell you at this point in time. Maybe later, my angel," he said finally, in his rough voice. Lukas nodded a little in acknowledgement before a swishing sound reached his ears and he let out a small whimper as the nail was driven into the flesh between his thumb and the bone of his index finger. "Do you have anything to say, Lukas? Any cries of mercy, my beautiful angel?" came the voice in a bemused tone. Lukas shook his head tightly, feeling his cross barrette slip from his hair and clank onto the floor.
Through the stabbing, shooting pain spreading around his body, he heard it being picked up. "What a beautiful hair clip," the voice said. "It suits you well, Lukas." The Norwegian bent in front of him grunted, not being able to string together a proper sentence. A snort echoed around the room.
"Of course. Not willing to embarrass yourself. Not willing to give in just yet. Don't worry, my angel, we will work out these problems set before us."
Lukas didn't reply.
The man left the nail there.
