Wiktor: I honestly can't believe the number of readers that have followed this for so long! Thank you for all of you who stuck it out…I'm extremely grateful! (Reviews are always helpful to me!)
Warning: I am rating this chapter M for mature, just because of some disturbing, and potentially triggering, themes. Tread with caution. Oh, the things I do to poor Austria. I kind of feel bad for torturing my own country as I have been!
Austria combed through America's sleek hair a few more times with his fingers, still uncertain of what he wanted to do with it. "Have you ever considered trimming it shorter?" He motioned for America to turn slightly, and signaled with his shears what he was referring to. "You have a strong jawline. If you let me trim here and here, it will bring out your natural bone structure."
America fidgeted in his seat and stared at himself apprehensively in the mirror, watching Austria suspiciously as he studied him. "I don't know. The last time I had my hair that short was in Vietnam." He replied, tentative. "Do you think that would look ok?"
"Of course, I am telling you that it would look nice." Austria hunted for America's natural layers and began to divide them into sections. "Do you not trust me?"
"No, no I trust you!" America elucidated swiftly, leaning back in the chair and trying to relax. "Just do it."
Today was Christmas Eve, and Austria's house had grown stagnant and hushed without the usual hustle and bustle of his servers, leaving the two countries to do what they pleased. Each one of his workers had all taken their leave. Austria pulled America's hair lightly through his scissors, taking great care to gradually thin the sides to an effortless gradient. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen America with a different hairstyle to the unkempt mess he had now. It was as if he knew absolutely nothing about what looked good on himself! It hadn't taken long for Austria to decide what to do. America's symmetrical face and strong but muted features needed to be complimented, not hidden by a mop. If Austria was forced to spend the rest of Christmas with him, he wanted America to look his best. And, due to his previous jealousy, Austria was somewhat interested at just how handsome he could make America appear by his own hand. Not that he wasn't already, but the task, Austria thought, might help him to better respect rather than to detest what gift America was bestowed with just because of his own petty insecurities.
"Where did you learn how to do this?" America piped up from his chair, trying not to look as if he were to ruin some kind of surprise.
Austria shrugged. "I used to cut Spain's hair when we lived together all those years ago."
America closed his eyes. "I feel like this is revenge or something for dropping that shit on your carpet." He laughed nervously, trying to push away the dreadful image from his brain. "Don't, like, cut it all off."
Austria pursed his lips. "Relax. I am only trimming the sides." He picked up the pace, amused when America held his breath at the metallic snipping of the scissors. He expertly moved from one side to the other, almost drawing his work to a close in a meager few minutes.
Austria felt his hand brush against the side of America's face, and almost immediately an appalling feeling came over him. Stopping his cutting, he took America forcefully by the jaw with both hands and turned him up to scrutinize him closer.
"Have you not shaved?" He scoffed, turning him from side to side like a rag doll. "What sort of man refuses to shave for an event as important as Christmas?" He shook his head in displeasure.
"I was trying to grow it out!" America managed to squeeze out through Austria's tight hold. "I thought it might look kinda bad ass. And why the hell would I shave now anyway? I'm literally just going to sit here with you all damn day and it's not like we're going out anywhere! Plus, I thought you hated Christmas!"
"Nonsense!" Austria waved the shears in his direction. "Do you want to end up looking like France? Your face is far too innocent and handsome for something so disgusting." He made a few final adjustments to America's hair before rummaging around in the cabinets of the bathroom sink. "It seems I have to fix everything for you. What if we had an unexpected visitor? What would they say about this? You look like you live in the mountains!" He nagged, retrieving and unsheathing a single sharp blade from its protective pocket.
America jumped up and put his hands before him, causing the loose clippings to flutter to the floor and make an awful mess. "Hell no! You are not shaving my face with that! It's only a little stubble."
"Sit down." Austria demanded, jabbing a finger at the seat. "I moved this chair in here just for you, and I intend to get full use of it."
America groaned and threw himself back down. "Just be careful."
Satisfied, Austria reached across the counter and uncapped a small pot of shaving cream, taking a hearty glob onto his fingers and stooping in front of America. He had closed his eyes once more, accepting defeat and the knowledge that he would never have the glorious beard he dreamed he would. Austria reached up and began to lightly smear the fluffy cream across America's chin. Maybe he just should have let America shave on his own. Austria wasn't one for physical contact, whether it be coming from someone else, or if he was the one initiating it. It was gawky and uncomfortable to feel someone else completely at his mercy. As much as he absolutely reveled in holding power over the decisions of others, he felt completely exposed and out of his element when physical control came into his field of influence. He took a deep breath and frowned, standing to rinse his hands before taking his razor. Austria willed his hands to steady, trying not to think of how naked he felt to have America so close to him.
"Lean back against me." He mumbled.
"Alright, Sweeny Todd. You're the boss, man!" America rolled his head back against Austria's stomach, opening his eyes and grinning a white toothy smile.
Austria had always thought there was something unsettling about America, ever since the two had first met. When America was just beginning as a nation and still inexperienced as a child he was unbelievably disobedient. News of every fit, tantrum, and war he started reached back to the European central homeland and put everyone on the edge. Thinking back on it, Austria remembered remaining fairly neutral and calm to the American Revolution, preferring to sit back and watch as England's empire spiraled out of control underneath him. No one in Europe had anticipated the brute strength and economic power that America held, and no one had ever dreamed that he could have toppled one of Europe's most formidable land and sea powers.
Austria lifted the blade to eye level and examined it halfheartedly, lost in thought. During the time he remembered that Spain had contracted a grave heart condition over the sudden boom of seemingly never ending protests happening in colonial America. Because natural resources and land were still exceedingly valued and easy to obtain, the Spanish relied heavily on cooperation from the people of America in order to keep the trade route alive and maintain a competitive edge over the others. Spain failed to predict the uprising, falling just short of an economic crunch.
Austria placed a hand under America's chin and expertly went about his business, meticulously gliding the blade across his tan skin. After checking to be sure that no cuts were made, he sunk right back into his own thoughts and picked up where he left off, confident that he didn't need to fret much for the rest of the job. It was odd; Spain was on his mind quite a lot this morning. He hadn't been for many a year, so why now was Austria remembering all of these mundane memories he had chosen to forget?
"Damn, you're good." America breathed, trying his best not to squirm. "I haven't had this close of a shave in ages."
Ah. That was why. The sound of America's voice lent him a critical hint. Last night had been marvelously lively for Austria, and though he wasn't shocked at the moment, he really only started to scrutinize what America had said when he awoke the next morning. He shuddered to think that America had slept with human men. It seemed so unclean. He obviously wasn't embarrassed about what Austria assumed to be promiscuity on his end, and openly welcomed any further questions on the matter. Being in a special relationship with a man was not a new concept to Austria. And so, Spain slowly began to creep back into his mind.
The marriage, as he had explained to nearly everyone who decided it was funny to laugh at his sexual orientation, was purely political; a merger of two nations that needed to be done out of weakness. For the most part, Austria rarely saw Spain, who was almost constantly away fighting a war here and there. He would come back from the front bloody and torn to shreds, but he would always smile and greet Austria as a friend. However, Austria never truly condoned or acknowledged their marriage and personally wanted nothing to do with him past their agreement. He still didn't.
He swallowed, moving to finish the other half of America's face in ever thickening silence. Though, Spain was technically his husband, and, dare he even think such a vile thing, married couples are supposed to maintain a healthy sex life behind closed doors. It was a basic human instinct, and nothing to be ashamed of. During that time, keeping under the scope of Spain's knowledge, Austria had a string of dedicated lovers that he was never satisfied with, growing bored with the effort and eventually abandoning it all together when a few of the women began to dejectedly piece together his affairs. Never once had Austria even stopped to consider Spain as anything more than an asset to the war effort, and the thought of any outlandish romantic affiliation between them was nauseating even today. Austria hurriedly reassured himself that he only had an interest in being physical with women, which he had partaken in more times than he could count, but talking with America the previous night had left him, well, a little confounded about what he should have actually done in the past. He was always bored with the women he was with. They were never satisfying enough, not just in a sexual way, but in an everyday matter. There was something missing from them that he could never seem to find in another, no matter how long his search went on. Of course, he had female friends which he liked to be around, but he would have never considered anything more with any of them. All of them were generous and alluring, with soft and comforting eyes and light touches, but that set him apart from them and ultimately caused him to drive many of them away. When Austria came in serious contact with Hungary and the two began their long endeavor together, he found that he admired her for her odd qualities to fight and take the spearhead in most public and fiscal topics, allowing him to sit back and be the dainty musician he had always been. He had fallen in love with her brazenness, and felt completely at ease with having her protection and the undercurrent of dominance that she exerted over their relationship. Austria stared at the wall. Though he would never share it with her, he hadn't fallen in love with her because she was a woman. He never even stopped to think about it really. He loved her for her masculinity and virility.
This thinking was becoming uncomfortable, but still Austria continued, setting the blade aside and reaching for a soft towel to dry America's face. If he was attracted to Hungary's masculinity, he swallowed at his own irrationality, then why was he not attracted to someone like Spain? At once, he began to reevaluate their marriage. Spain would fight and conduct the negotiations, and Austria would, for the most part, stay in country and take care of the work behind the scenes. He kept the household running efficiently for Spain's return and cooked when he did, always pleased when he would eat more than what he should. There was nothing strange about this relationship. If anything, it was more of a once close friendship that had faded over time with age. He turned his attention to another scenario. During the recent Austrian Anschluss, Germany had moved into his country and annexed his people, leaving Austria no choice but to conform to his neighbor's ideology and orders. The two had remained in the same household for several years during the course of the Second World War, and had often shared the same bed when officers came around. Again, he found himself remembering that he loved the protection he was granted upon their merger, and felt safe when he was with Germany. When Germany's boss had begun to question Austria's appearance and potential religious affiliations, he recalled how Germany had fought on his side, biting back against his administration and in turn preventing Austria from being forcefully drug away from his own position in government and sentenced to spend the rest of the war in a concentration camp. It was a noble deed from which Austria was still appreciative. Germany was one of the most masculine people that Austria had ever known, and there was no personal or romantic attachment between the two. At least, he didn't think there was. He would admit that there were a few times that he found that he would confuse himself, staring across the room to where Germany sat in his recliner, and wondering what it would be like if what they had would have been a marriage. At that point, marriage between countries had fallen out of normality, and was classified as a simple merger, leaving Austria with only an awkward situation somewhere in between being completely dominated and crushed by a somewhat foreign philosophy and being protected by someone he was growing to admire. Oh how he adored Germany during those times.
America hopped up and ran his hands first through his hair, then across his face, admiring Austria's handiwork.
"Woah, I love this!" He exclaimed, spinning around to face him. "I look like a completely different person!" He looked back at the mirror and winked at himself. "I look drop dead sexy!"
And then there was America. The strange and sudden burst of friendship that was thrust upon Austria against his will. The loveable perpetual underdog of the world that gave Austria the strange courage to loosen his ties and release his tension to have fun. He wasn't the smartest person, but made up for it in his amazing ability to observe previously undetected details, giving him a different but somewhat rare form of everyday intelligence. He was funny when he didn't even have to try to be and truly compassionate, those bright blue eyes and perfect white smile making him quite the charmer.
"I am glad you like it. I like a man with a clean face." Austria smiled a nervous smile, trying not to stare.
Why would he say that? Was he turning into America? The man was the king of saying often strange and obscure things that Austria couldn't quite understand, and now it sounded like he had rubbed off on him.
"If you would be so kind as to fetch a broom? I would like this mess cleaned." He asked, wanting America out of is sight before he said something else he would inevitably regret.
America saluted him. "Sure thing! I think I saw one downstairs near the pantry. I'll be right back."
Austria watched him go, angry with himself that he would be so careless, and confused at what all of this meant. America was very nice and helpful around the house, and his innocence was fresh and vibrant. Austria hated him...well...at least he used to before all of this. But, at the same time he wanted to be around him. He wanted to cook for him and share his favorite composers and write music that the two could enjoy together for a long time. He wanted to be near America at the same time that he wanted to shove him back into his own country. Austria hadn't felt this insecure about his own feelings since before he had asked Hungary to marry him. This feeling was scary and forceful, and he found himself wanting America to hold on to him again like he had in the snow, protecting him from his own thoughts. America could never know. He could never know what Austria was hiding or what he felt.
Austria felt his fingers twitch and he sighed. He needed to smoke. It was a nasty habit he had picked up in the early fifties with many of the other hundreds of countries on the planet, and he couldn't seem to shake the urge whenever he got low enough. He had successfully kept his habit a secret from the public eye and the rest of the world, fearful of what the reaction would be and sure that it would destroy the noble physique he had created for himself. Still confused, he left for his study.
When America returned, he found that Austria had run off somewhere. America slumped against the doorframe of the bathroom and groaned at the mess of loose hair covering the floor in patches. Figures that Austria would try to shirk his own responsibilities and push it all on him like he always did. Maybe if he left the mess as it was, Austria would finally man up and do it himself.
America blinked when he felt a vibration in his pocket, leaning the broomstick against the counter and reaching back for his phone. He looked at the time. Hm. He was a little early this year.
America answered the call. "Hey, what's up?"
"I heard that you were spending your Christmas leave in Europe this year." England's voice rang out from the receiver. "That's unlike you. Who are you staying with?"
Every year on Christmas Eve, England would call America to fret over his life choices like he always seemed to do. America was used to it, and actually enjoyed talking with his brother, no matter how little the two appeared to get along.
America opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a soft voice on the other end.
"Honey, I made you brunch. Would you like to eat it with me?"
Immediately, there was the loud hissing noise of England trying to kindly hush whoever had entered the room. "Go outside, love, and we'll have it on the veranda when I'm finished." He whispered quickly and almost inaudibly, hoping that America hadn't heard him through his hand covering the mouthpiece.
America heard everything. He burst out laughing, nearly doubling over in amusement at the sweet tone of England's voice.
"Love?" He hooted in between breaths. He could almost see England's face burning bright red with mortification. "Are you still with that red head whore? Dude don't tell me you actually fell in love with her?" He cackled. "This is hilarious!"
"It is not Hannah!" England shouted. "If you would have read my blog like you told me you do, then you would have known that was a one-time affair, you twat!"
"Bro, why would you even want to tap that one time?" America kept on, not letting England hear the end. "When you brought her to the Christmas party everyone could smell fish from a mile away!"
"Oh, shut it! I only took her because I couldn't take my girlfriend!" He retorted hotly, letting his voice trail off.
America continued to laugh, toning it down a little. "You know that I'm only messing with you, right? But wait," He cleared his throat and recollected his breath. "Who's your girlfriend? She sounded familiar, actually."
The mystery voice that had called out for England was sugary, small, and laced with the telltale slur of a somewhat noticeable accent. She sounded very kind and loving, and almost Germanic.
"Dude, I knew you went to Germany for a while a few months back, but you didn't have to sample the local cuisine, if you catch my drift." America whistled then chuckled. "What's the lucky lady's name?"
There was a long silence. Then, when England finally spoke, he sounded a bit put off.
"She isn't German." Was all he said.
America raised an eyebrow. "Ok, so she isn't German. Big deal." He shrugged to himself. "I asked what her name was."
"Ehrm...Li…Lilac." England spouted out in an obvious shaky lie.
America didn't seem to notice the tone of his voice and grinned. "That's cute! Well, she sounds like she really likes you. Just don't get her pregnant. You don't want a human baby running around." He yawned, bored with how the conversation was turning out and deciding to turn the subject back to himself. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm staying at Austria's place."
England gave a brief sigh of relief before piping back up. "You mean to tell me that you never left the Christmas party? Why on earth would you go and do a thing like that?"
America had learned to trust England enough to tell him almost everything and know that it would stay a secret. Thought he two fought openly in public, they rarely spilled each other's secrets, keeping an unspoken vow of silence.
"It started out that he was going to teach me how to play the piano. I've learned a lot and all, but I think there's something wrong with him." America rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how much he should tell.
"Well he's always been a tight arse. Last year he refused to let me come in until my tie was straight." England muttered.
America nodded, forgetting that England wasn't standing there with him "It's not like that, though. Ever since I've been here he's been acting stranger than usual."
"How do you mean?"
"You promise not to say anything?"
"Of course."
"He's been really sick," America began. "The first time it happened out of nowhere and he got this really bad nosebleed. That's happened a couple of times, but I've noticed that he walks like he's dizzy or something."
"Anemia?" England suggested, listening intently. "Have you asked him what's wrong? It could be as simple as issues with the EU."
"I don't think it is. Everyone would be acting pretty shitty, then." He bounced the toe of his sneaker on the hardwood floor, leaving little scuff marks. on the grain "I haven't been here for very long but I'm worried about him."
England chuckled a bit. "I know how you get." The tone of his voice softened. "Don't try to save everyone, America. If he hasn't asked for your help, then leave him to his own business." He stopped and cleared his throat. "You can't be the hero to everyone."
The reality of England's words burned through America's chest. Deep down he knew he couldn't win at everything, no matter if he was currently immortal or not. It was excruciatingly difficult to comprehend not being able to make a difference when he really wanted to. His brother was right. Austria wouldn't stop pushing him away, and it was obviously time to hang up the gloves for good on this matter. America felt defeated.
"I wish I could have done something." He ran his hand through his hair. "I felt like I was so close to figuring out what was wrong, too!" He mumbled a curse under his breath. "You should see him, England, he's like a walking skeleton. It's creepy as hell."
America could practically hear England rolling his eyes.
"With all the damn food he eats, you would think that he would be a walking case of heart disease."
America froze and felt his slowly grow slack in realization. He averted his gaze to the floor, struck dumbfounded by his brother's sudden turn of phrase. England had said something that put him on his toes, and it had all happened so quickly, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. A little switch flipped inside of him and he began to think, slowly completing the puzzle and standing back to view the whole picture. Oh no.
"What did you say?" He whispered in disbelief.
"What do you mean? Austria is bound to have a heart-"
America cut him off and flew from the doorway. "All the food he eats!" he shouted in repeat, rightfully earning an irritated scolding from England on the other end.
"What on earth are you on about now?" England asked through America's fit, exasperated by his lack of attention.
"I think I get it." America felt his stomach twist in knots, desperately hoping that his wild idea was far from being right.
"America-"
America glanced to his phone and hung up the call. The answer was so simple, and had hung just under his radar this entire time. All of the time he had spent lying awake trying to unscramble this unbearable puzzle, and England had solved it unknowingly in less than a few minutes. It was meek, nasty, and painfully dizzying to wrap his mind around. Austria had slunk around in the shadows for decades minding his own business and conducting his nefarious internal plot without anyone noticing. But America had. He had figured out his plan, to a certain degree, and was appalled and struck nearly ill by the immense flood of thought that overtook his mind. He grew woozy and felt his body beg to sit down, but he couldn't bring himself to abandon what he had already set in motion. America felt his breathing go shallow at the clicking of footsteps reverberating from further up the hall. He retreated into the doorway and willed his reeling thoughts to calm. He needed to confront Austria about what he had done, and he needed to do it now. But how could he begin to tame something so deeply ingrained in his friend's lifestyle as this? America felt a little nauseous. No, he was a superpower and a superhero. The two were the only countries here; no one else had to know. America exhaled a shaky breath and gave a long slow blink. He would solve it in confidence and restore Austria to his former health. However, he was well aware of Austria's inner turmoil. He was unstable and venerable, and would without a doubt fight back like a caged cat. It was a chance that America had no choice but to make.
He stepped from the doorway, nearly running smack into Austria as he strode lightly down the long hallway, making him jump in surprise at the sudden appearance. Immediately, America noticed the strong smell of cigarette smoke lingering on his clothing and following him like a ghost. Just how many secrets could one man hold? He didn't have time to worry about that now. There were bigger issues at stake.
"There you are." Austria began, looking around America and to the bathroom floor. "Have you cleaned everything up? I would like to go into town soon if you could be so kind as to accompany me."
"No." America breathed in a foggy daze before reaching down for Austria's wrist and sorrowfully leading him to the staircase
"What do you mean, 'no?'" Austria repeated, somewhat taken aback by America's abrupt tone. "I have to make preparations for tomorrow."
Quickly, America tried to come up with a plausible excuse. He couldn't just jump right into this. He cared deeply about Austria, and his gut feeling was telling him to be gentle with this intervention to avoid a potential meltdown between the two. He needed to ease into the root of the problem directly, and expose Austria to himself for what he had become in hopes that he would realize the extent of his own pain.
America flashed him a forged cheesy smile, careful not to tighten his grip through his nerves as he led him down to the kitchen. "What I meant to say was, I want to make a cake for after dinner tonight." He laughed as sincerely as he could. "I need your help to make it."
"I would rather bake after the shopping is done." Austria said swiftly, backing away from America when he noticed him hastily plow into the pantry rummaging through it like a rat. "It would make more sense to do that." He felt every muscle in his body stiffen when America began to throw things about across the floor behind him, causing a boisterous thundering of canned goods. He didn't dare question him.
America flashed him a bothered and worried stare then went back to throwing boxes and cans stridently around the kitchen in search of something he couldn't seem to find. Austria gave a quick glance to the doorway behind him and considered leaving, trying not to let America see how unnerved by his strange and atypical personality. America was definitely extremely upset about something, but Austria couldn't seem to tell if it was anger or something else he couldn't define. He took a few tiny steps backwards and shot up when America called out to him.
America didn't break his painful gaze, all the while staring intently into Austria's eyes. He gently set a can of instant frosting on the kitchen table and sat down. He silently motioned for Austria to come over with a hand, watching every move he made with alarmed eyes.
"C-come here, Austria."
Austria narrowed his eyes slightly. This had to be another one of America's outlandish jokes designed to scare him. There must be some kind of underlying surprise to this whole ordeal that they would laugh over later. He moved to the table and pulled out a chair, setting himself up next to America.
"You know," America started, reaching for the can, "I always knew that there was something about you that was different than everyone else."
Austria rolled his eyes. "You tell me that almost every time you see me."
"No, Roderich, just listen to what I have to say." America mumbled, hoping the use of his real name would catch his attention. He popped the top on he can and dipped his pinky finger in the sticky white icing, bringing it to his lips, then back down again. "I've been watching what you do."
Austria swallowed thickly. What was he getting at? "America, I'm flattered, but I do not see you-"
America held out his hand. "Lick this off. It says there's 75 kcals in a tablespoon."
Austria stared back in him in disbelief, curling his lip in disgust. America held firm, arm outstretched and hand dripping with cream. He was completely serious. The look in America's eyes hinted at a silent dread that he was trying to contain behind his glasses, mixed with a false expectation that whatever he was thinking was mistaken and an unfortunate figment of his wild imagination.
"I beg your pardon?" Austria stuttered slightly, feeling himself slip deeper into America's current unpredictability.
America felt himself falling apart through a knowing sensation across what felt like every nerve and cell in his body. He leaned forward in his chair, grabbing Austria by the shoulder with his free hand. "Please prove me wrong!" He pleaded urgently. "Everything makes sense and I don't want it to! Just eat this and prove me wrong!"
Austria pushed back from his chair, but America pursued, jumping in front of him to block the doorway. "I knew you wouldn't. How can you do this? There are so many people who love you!" He cried.
"I have no idea what you are talking about!" Austria crossed his arms hotly, feeling his rage and voice escalate. "Stop shouting at me so suddenly!"
"Dammit!" America choked. He rarely let anyone see him cry, biting his lip to keep back the burning tears threatening to overflow onto his flushed cheeks. "I…" Say it. "I…" Spill everything you have done. "I found it." He couldn't contain his sobs; the once great hero of the West reduced to weakness by one man out of millions on the planet. "I found your food diary."
Any remaining swatch of color faded from Austria's face at America's confession, draining away like a wash in a freezing fall rain. He took a few more steps back, tripping over the metal lip of the doorframe to the kitchen and stumbling into the walkway. America couldn't know! Austria was panicked, trying to tame his quickly escalating breathing. America had rummaged around in his study? How could he betray him like this? His hands flew up to cover his mouth but it did little to calm his fraying, electric nerves. His entire world, his entire safety net instantaneously ripped away from around him and all of his composure flew from the window that America had pried open by force.
"I knew you wouldn't eat this." America placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. "Too high in calories, just like I thought."
Austria's mind had gone completely blank as he entered what felt like an instinct to flee. His personality had been overtaken by the sheer force of will to keep his secret safe; he no longer felt like himself. America had pushed him in front of the mirror of truth to see what an ugly monster he was becoming, how his body and his mind were falling away from reality.
"Please, stop!" Austria begged as politely as he could, shattering his sophisticated and masterly image and replacing it with a pathetic nuisance.
America grabbed him and forced him into a hug, stooping down to bury his face in the nape of Austria's neck as he continued to cry ligtly. He ran his fingers up through Austria's hair and held tightly, completely scared by his own feelings and the thought of Austria intentionally maiming himself from the inside out like he had all these years.
"Why do you make yourself throw up?" He choked out between soft sobs.
That was the catalyst. After decades of hiding and staying silent, staying alone and afraid of what he felt inside, Austria couldn't contain himself any more. No false air of pretentiousness or adorning himself with beautiful clothes could mask what he felt. He burst into tears. No one had seen him like this; not his husband, his wife, the wounded soldiers coming back with missing limbs from war. He never cried. It was weak and unworthy of nobility. Austria was sick of having to be emotionally strong when no one else could. He was sick of having to shut himself off and remain the cold and callous man that people perceived him as. His dignity was destroyed by a single phrase that America had unlocked and ripped out of his heart like a hot iron shard.
"I am not what you think!" His voice cracked as he went limp in America's hold and tried feely to push him way with force, batting weakly at his chest.
America sniffed and held him tightly. "I should have known. I never saw you eat at the party. You never ate with me here. When you finally did when Burkhart made it for you, you disappeared for a long time." He let go and put both hands on either side of Austria's face, pressing their foreheads together. "That's why you get nosebleeds. That's why you're so fucking tiny, isn't it? You're starving yourself to death. Tell me why you're doing this. Why did you think you needed to ruin your life?"
Austria was on sensory overload and staggered to the side, his rapid breathing exposing years of pent up irrationality. The sound of America crying, the torrent of anger, pain, and sickness welling up inside him, and the petrifying realism that he had been discovered were all too much for him to handle.
"Leave me alone!" He demanded loudly, breaking his English.
America took a deep unstable breath and put his hands before him in defense. "Roderich, you need to calm down. This is a lot to take in and you're not yourself right now." He explained rapidly, trying at the same time to soothe himself. "Come on, this isn't you!"
Austria spouted something in German and covered his face with his hands. "How dare you assume that you know me? Get out of here!"
When America refused to leave, Austria turned and went for the entryway, grabbing the keys Burkhart used to cart him around the city and frantically going for the door, throwing it open and moving as fast as he could through the thickening snow, forgetting his snowboots. He needed to get away from this place. It was his demise, everything he hated and everything that made him vile in the face of his former self. America would hate him. His president would hate him. All of the people that looked up to his image as a shining example of poise and cool collection would hate him for his falsehood and years of lying through his teeth during news conferences. He just wanted to be like them. He wanted to be that light that led others through the darkness. It always seemed he could never find his own way out.
America's heart sank, and he gave chase, not bothering to close the door behind him. This was the worst idea he had ever had! Austria had broken down into a complete panic attack and was being totally irrational. Instead of sitting down and crying like America had expected, he made a mad escape for the city.
"Roderich!" America called over wind, drying his tears and replacing them with alarm and focus. Think! Austria didn't drive well and had a horrible sense of direction. He was bound to get lost and his terrible driving skills would be heightened during his breakdown. If only he could remember where Burkhart had left the car!
The sound of wheels on snow sounded behind him as Austria's personal car sped away and quickly out of sight.
"No, dammit, come back!" America yelled in frustration.
He had to think. Where on earth would Austria want to go? What did he like? Where would he feel safe? He liked archaeology and books, but the libraries and museums were all closed for the holiday. He liked the mountains for their serenity, but America severely doubted that he would go that far. Suddenly, he got an idea. A few of the local theatres were performing live operas in honor of the Christmas season. If there was anything that Austria needed to recollect himself to his former sophistication, it would be his insatiable thirst for music. America nodded to himself, forming a game plan and sprinting to the main road. He still didn't know the root of Austria's bulimia. What had caused him to hate himself so much as to try to permanently change his appearance in such a drastic way? America couldn't think about it at the moment. All he wanted was to find Austria safe, and he would scour every theatre in the city until he was back in his arms.
Wiktor: Long chapter. Sorry for any potentially souring themes, but reviews are greatly appreciated. My official posting days for this will be Tuesday and Friday!
