AN: This one is like, twice the length of the other, I'm sorry, I got carried away. Any who, I had a lot of fun with this one, and I decided to play around with how I wrote it. It might be a little weird by doing so, so yeah... Please enjoy, favorite and review!

Day 2: Decapitation + Cuddling

Pairing: Russia/America (rusame)

Warnings: Kidnapping, lots of blood

From somewhere in a small country home, a slow song drifted through the halls. It was slow and had a rustic sound to it, the tell-tall whine of a single violin prominent with undertones from the remaining orchestra. It was a tune you would find playing at the most prestigious of get-togethers instead of a simple home, but yet it played on, painting a scene of peace. Outside, the crisp night wind carried its own music of insects and the distant cries of the forest crawlers.

.oOo.

It had been a mistake, walking home at night. Ivan should have known it all along. But he continued on from the small bakery he owned, ignoring the warnings his sister seemed insistent on texting him. Turning his phone off had been mistake number two, him realizing this as he stepped onto the more infamous part of town to reach his house just beyond the region known for its multiple crimes.

With shifty eyes, the Russian had clutched his keys tightly, indents finding their home on his palm as the grooves dug into his skin, the feel insignificant to him for his sense of sight and sound were his crutches at the moment. His right erupted in a mess of banging metal, startling him as he tensed and prepared to fight. A cat hissed and skirted across the alley, a few others in pursuit. Ivan stood frozen for a second, body relaxing slowly as he chuckled nervously, letting his hands fall to his side as the fear in his heart finally started dwindling. Resuming his walk, he took a deep breath. Everything would be fine.

.oOo.

The faint sound of humming could be distinguished when a certain point of the house was reached. Granted, you'd have to get past the carnage that was on the way. Broken glass littered the floorboards and if one looked closer, blood was clearly visible. From who, the question remained open, but one thing was for certain: the wreckage followed a specific path, one that led right to a long hallway, all the way down to the last door on the left. The same door that was splintered on the edge, more of the bright red color that stood out, contrasting highly with the stark white of the painted wood. If an individual were to stand there, a humming could be heard ever so slightly, a nice and gentle addition to the instrumentals.

.oOo.

Utopia for many was a place surpassing what we experience on earth, where all there was was the safety and happiness humans have craved and fought for so devotedly. However, just making it home to his cramped and noisy apartment would be heaven on earth for Ivan. Although, all of his hope for a peaceful night was ripped from him as hands shot out from behind, jerking him back and into the solid wall of a body that was the criminal that had decided he was prey. His hope wasn't the only thing wiped away; the second Ivan felt the cold, cruel metal of a gun press harshly against his temple, a voice like sandpaper spoke close to his ear.

"You're not going to scream or fight. You're going to sleep and come with me." Lest he wanted his mind on the street instead of survival, Ivan did as he was told, breath ragged and tears swelling at the bottom of his eyes as he used the best of his ability to understand the last bit. Sleep was the last activity he would consider at the moment, yet the truth of the stranger's words was made painfully obvious not a second later when a cloth was shoved rather forcefully to cover his mouth and nose. With a mess in place for his mind, Ivan felt his internal panic both rise and fall, the drug diluted rag numbing his mind, his body delaying slightly. Not even having enough of a composed brain to form a final thought, Ivan collapsed at the feet of a man, who smiled happily at the sight before him. Hefting him easily over his shoulder, a hum could be heard through the alleys of the dark.

.oOo.

Should someone open the white door, they'd be faced with a staircase, one that wound up and around, holes and dents in the walls surrounding it. The humming just kept growing stronger, the music more soft with each step. And suddenly, much earlier than anyone could have expected, it opened up to a lab of sorts, one that was once clean and stable, where no one would have questioned a thing save for the tools that seemed much too sharp and big for a scientist. That was then. Now, what was left behind was either a scene of horror or a morbid twist produced from the hands of an artist who favored the color red. The room was an explosion of it, decorating all of the surfaces within and bringing with it a deathly silence that only the humming could properly penetrate. And like a center piece found at a dinner, there lay a body, the neck mangled with bits and pieces flung onto the walls and table. Everything lay in place, red draped over like a sheet, a puddle in position where a head should have been.

.oOo.

Ivan had woken to a bright light burning his eyes, groaning as he clenched them shut again. Trying to rub the drowsiness from them wasn't an option either; trying to do so only resulted in discovering tight binding on his wrists, ankles, neck, and waist, rendering him utterly immobile. Squinting up at the light, he groaned softly again, struggling weakly against the restraints. Then, granting him a brief moment of mercy, the irritating light was whisked away, replaced by a spotless ceiling. However, the sight was gone just as hastily as it came, a head adorned in a mask suit for Halloween if Ivan remembered correctly. It was hard to do so, the drug from before hitting him hard. The eyes were visible though, showing the bluest irises Ivan had ever seen, a golden fringe obscuring any other trait that could be helpful in knowing. That didn't stop him from trying to speak to his kidnapper, only gutteral noises slipping past his lips at his attempt.

A muffled laugh came from the masked stranger, eyes crinkling at the edges being the only indicator of a smile. Then, the head moved, standing up straight and turning away for a minute. "You're really pretty," came from the man, the sound of metal against metal reaching Ivan over the other's voice. Could this possibly be the rough voice from earlier? It wasn't possible. This was too young, too angelic to be that, yet the facts were made plain and clear. "That's why I picked you. Its gotten lonely here in this house, and since I haven't had fun in a while..." There was a pause of silence that left him curious, about to speak up before the sputtering of an engine echoed in the room, just an introduction to the roar it produced when started. It didn't take a genius to know it was a chainsaw.

"So how about you and me have a good time, hm?" And like the light had did the contrary, the teeth of the tool came into Ivan's peripheral vision, chasing each other around the bend and back again. Any trace of the drug fled his body in fear, the straps holding him down stronger than himself, and for once he regretted time spent with family as opposed to going to the gym. The white of the mask came into sight again, the eyes folded at the edges. He was smiling, wide. "Heads up!" A laughter only comparable to ones seen in films overpowered the growling tool held in his hands, joined in with the cries for help that Ivan found the strength to voice.

Then, without the slightest hint of hesitation, the maniacal stranger let the teeth sink into the tender skin at Ivan's neck, tearing it to shreds upon contact. And all he could do was watch in horror as his own blood dressed his body and the room around him, the laugh never ending as the pain from the wound could only match up with how much blood flooded the table beneath him along with his mouth. The coppery taste accompanied by the sight of a ski mask were the last of Ivan's memories, his life being played off with the morbid duet of a boy and his chainsaw.

.oOo.

Beyond another white door lay another room clad in red, though the splatters were now waves, a silk blanket draped upon a man. On the ground lay a discarded mask, the inside of which bared a name, scratched in with a pocket knife. Alfred. The owner of said mask lay comfortably still, chest rising and falling, humming along to the tune that carried all the way up. Discolored sheets next to him showed clear signs of another red, one much darker, richer than anything that could ever be bought. The source lay just by the man's - Alfred's - head, a hand pressing the object close. It was easy too, without the annoyance of a body in the way of his arm. It was perfect really; a head without a body was truly the best cuddling partner one could ever ask for.

Opening his eyes slowly, Alfred gazed into the cold, lifeless pools that had become Ivan's own eyes. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind the decapitated head's ear, the blond smiled. "Red is such a nice color on you..." he mumbled innocently, kissing the cheek of the head softly, licking off the stain that had added color to the pale man. Going back to humming, he closed his eyes, pulling the head close to his body and relishing in the feel of the warm,moist feel of blood smearing on the bed and his own body, knowing that this had to be one of his more fruitful endeavors, Alfred let the lulling sound of the music and his own humming guide him to a peaceful sleep, glad to know the head pressed tight again his chest could enjoy an eternity of undisturbed slumber all thanks to him. He really did feel like a hero sometimes.