PAIRING: Romania x Russia / Vincent x Ivan
PROMPT: TOY – There was something about breaking his toys that Vincent found satisfying.
RATING: M for safety.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, with Ivan and Vincent, I had to have at least one angsty/violent oneshot, right? Maybe? Enjoy!
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04. TOY
Vincent didn't know when his, well, obsession with breaking things began. It must have been when he first met Ivan; until seeing the Russian nation, he hadn't ever felt the need to justify and secure his ownership of something. Beforehand, things were just always his.
Ivan was a toy, a plaything. Vincent assured himself of that every time he looked at Ivan. He would see his toy and think; I don't love him. He's only here for my entertainment; I keep him around for the sole purpose of burning up time.
And burn up time they did. Whether it was mindless chit chat over tea or begging and pleading and moaning, they wasted hours. There was something uniquely special about spending time with Ivan that made idle chatter alright.
But it was when he broke Ivan—those were the times he enjoyed most.
It amazed him, really, how Ivan still stuck around and managed to love him. After the times he'd done something particularly horrible or unkind, Ivan would force a tight-lipped smile onto his face and say "thank you". Vincent supposed it must have been because Ivan realized he was a prisoner of the heart; that because of his love for Vincent, he must suffer. Vincent insisted on making Ivan live out this suffering because he wanted to make sure that the Russian learned.
It was always so long, these days spent in the cold of Russia; and so bland, too, all monochrome colors and completely boring. He was a giver, if anything, and so he would give color to his lover's black and white lifestyle.
Every time Vincent came into Ivan's room with that serene, absent, tranquil smile on his face, Ivan knew something was going to happen. Every time a blade touched his skin, and his blood seeped out from him, he would hold back his cries because he knew that if he made a noise, Vincent would insist on prolonging his "punishment". And while he sat there, viciously biting the inside of his cheek as Vincent's lips pressed to his ear and throat, he could feel the knife carving into his body.
I love him. I love him. I love him.
He would repeat that over and over in his mind until he was completely numbed from the experience. After a while, Vincent would pull back and wrap his bandages, and kiss him most tenderly.
There was something about breaking his toys that Vincent found satisfying. He couldn't be sure what it was, but he'd keep on breaking them until he found out.