Ignorance, My Bliss [11-13/?]
A tease for you--rest behind the cut.~ <3
There were several moments of fragile silence, precariously balanced quiet as Alfred tried to process the command, blood still trickling from his mouth; dazedly, eyes wide and blank, he looked at his trembling hand, palm dyed a deep scarlet. He raised his gaze to Arthur’s, trying to speak, to demand an explanation, but his throat was dry, tongue sticky with broken words and phrases. The Briton smiled, a languid, lazy expression that was so disgustingly saccharine it hurt to take it in.
“You,” Arthur murmured, brushing a gloved finger across his flush lower lip, grinning, “taste lovely, poppet.”
Tick, tock.
And that’s when he felt the vomit bite at the back of his throat, paling nearly instantaneously as he raised the tremulous hand to quivering lips, as if it would help him swallow the vileness. He felt one leg stutter backwards, jerking and unsure, and then he was running, bursting through back door with deafening force.
As he stumbled his way through the abandoned corridors, panting, gasping, the laughter echoed in his ears, the smile etched into his consciousness with horrible detail.
He wasn’t afraid.
He was not afraid.
But the eyes were still upon him.
~=~=~=~
Matthew had yet to move; not even a flinch of emotion had flickered across his face, stare stoned and focused; he heard the tentative footfall before a cacophony of hurried, retreating steps, the loud bang of the door against the wall. He waited a breath more, patiently listening; for if there was one thing the Canadian was, he was patient.
Quiet.
The other was gone.
Reassured by this, he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, casually sauntering to the gaping doorway. With his foot, he pushed the door close, shutting it with a muted click. He leaned back against it, unperturbed by the atmosphere, one leg jutted out in a supporting angle, the other neatly extended. For several moments, he seemed to contemplate the floor, regarding the cheap carpet with a mild, unreadable expression.
“Tell me, Matthew, my boy,” Arthur began, voice dripping with sickly sugar tones, “why are you being so protective of Alfred? It’s an overreaction, wouldn’t you agree?”
Matthew didn’t answer.
“After all,” the Briton continued, unaffected, taking several steps toward the blonde, “he is the same as we are, is he not? We are all equal here, no?”
Further silence.
Arthur was soon upon him, leaning over the Canadian, strong and assured; lips hovered near the outer shell of a sensitive ear, warm vibrations hissed low in a sudden anger, acidic and vehement.
“How long have you known?”
His muteness remained unbroken, still analyzing the floor with unusual focus; however, his mouth twitched, corners tweaked ever so slightly upward, mocking. The first words spoken were soft, smooth like the water’s surface.
“Now who’s overreacting?”
Bang.
Matthew blinked the stars away, a sharp pain reverberating throughout his skull, unable to tell if he was still smiling; he hoped so. The elder had him by the tie, slamming his head against the wall in a furious fit of rage.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Arthur seethed, punctuating the remark with another hard knock against the wall, fingers shaking around the silk of the necktie. The Canadian allowed his head to loll, rolling it to try and clear the slurring of the room. His voice was breathless, high, saturated with disdain. He might have been giggling, because the situation was just so absurd.
“You never asked.”
“Think you’re goddamn funny, do you?” the Briton bit out, digging his hands deeper into the fabric, “I’m not to be trifled with.” Matthew merely leaned his head back against the wall, consciousness aflame with sharp stabs of pain; he looked at Arthur under half-veiled lashes, a disturbingly coquettish gaze.
“You used to be so big.”
Matthew was beginning to fear permanent damage, especially given the intensity of the last slam; his vision was edged with wisp-like shadows, but he still had not lifted a finger against the assault, choosing instead to remain motionless, the stoic non-combatant. Arthur was trembling with anger, emerald irises glowing with an enraged intensity.
“No-don’t you dare fuck with me, Matthew; I won’t stand for it,” Arthur said, the words livid, toxic; suddenly, phrases murmured lowly, regretfully, “I should have done it when I had the chance.”
“But you have lost your chance, da?”
All eyes turned towards the source of the voice, shadowy amethyst eyes glittering under pale blonde fringe. The Russian steepled his raven-clad fingers, pressing back into the cushion on the chair; he smiled, playful.
“He is-how you say-‘up for grabs’?” The Briton sneered, lip curling as his hold on Matthew loosened, now focused on Ivan.
“Bollocks, he is,” Arthur said, incensed, “Alfred belongs to me.” Mutterings began, little whispers that flew from nation to nation with startling ease, ones of confusion, disagreement.
“If to anyone, he belongs to me, aru.”
Most turned their heads in shock to Yao, startled at his participation; standing straight-backed and proud, he examined the hem of a perfectly tailored sleeve, his air cool and calm.
“I currently own more than 800 billion dollars of his national debt,” the Chinaman voiced, tone faultless like silk, “more than any other country in the world, aru. That, aru, would be a logical way for him to pay it back.”
“I-I don’t understand,” Toris interrupted, extremely perturbed, “He’s only a little sick; it’s happened to all of us at some point. He should be able to just-”
“No, ve~”
The brunette looked over to Feliciano, whose smiling countenance had yet to fade. Pointer finger extended and neatly pressed against his lower lip, he rolled his eyes upwards, as if in speculation.
“Ludwig and I saw him last week, and he was awfully sick then, ve,” the Italian mused, “You think he would have would have already done it, no? It would be awfully silly of him not to, right, Ludwig?” The addressed man said nothing as Feliciano wrapped an arm around his own, squeezing. Toris looked only further confused, wrinkles lining his forehead.
“B-but-that doesn’t-”
Still smiling, expression mild and warm like a child’s, Feliciano purred, almost inaudibly, “He is not like us.”
The room was dominated by a deafening silence, terse and splintered. The realization dawned on those who had originally failed to understand, faces twisting into disbelief.
“That,” the Lithuanian faltered, “that-is impossible-”
No.
Merely unlucky.
“He doesn’t belong to you.”
Finally remembered, the nations turned to the one standing at the now open door; it was an over-the-shoulder look, his hand on the handle as he spoke.
“He doesn’t belong to any of you, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.” Francis smirked, slimy, dark.
“Mon chou, it is one against many; you have no chance. Come now, if you join us, we might even share.” Matthew didn’t even blink as he turned from them, fingers clenched into a fist at his side.
“You disgust me.”
And then he was gone.
~=~=~=~
Matthew knew he would be there; it was where he always went, though the Canadian wasn’t quite sure why. He approached the bench carefully, lightly, so as to not scare him; though the white oak trees were bare of leaves, the light trickled through the branches, casting playfully shadows on the ground. He placed a hand on the straight-backed stone; the other didn’t move.
“I know all their names, y’know.” Matthew exhaled a puff of moist mist, heavy and frigid.
“I know, Alfred; I know.”
A moment of suspended silence.
“You owe me an explanation.” Unsure. Hurt.
“I know.”
Alfred stood, stiff, cold; Matthew thought he saw a few glistening streaks on the other’s cheeks, though it could have just been a tease of the sun. He didn’t turn.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Hey everyone~ I hope you all enjoyed this set (which, thankfully, was a little longer than the previous). I'm setting my goal at a weekly update (every friday or saturday), and more if I can. I'm just so horribly busy it's hard to find time to write--but I want to try my best for you all! :D Anyway, thank you for all of your lovely comments and please continue to do so! Cookies for those who can guess where they are at the end.
Till next time~ :3
There were several moments of fragile silence, precariously balanced quiet as Alfred tried to process the command, blood still trickling from his mouth; dazedly, eyes wide and blank, he looked at his trembling hand, palm dyed a deep scarlet. He raised his gaze to Arthur’s, trying to speak, to demand an explanation, but his throat was dry, tongue sticky with broken words and phrases. The Briton smiled, a languid, lazy expression that was so disgustingly saccharine it hurt to take it in.
“You,” Arthur murmured, brushing a gloved finger across his flush lower lip, grinning, “taste lovely, poppet.”
Tick, tock.
And that’s when he felt the vomit bite at the back of his throat, paling nearly instantaneously as he raised the tremulous hand to quivering lips, as if it would help him swallow the vileness. He felt one leg stutter backwards, jerking and unsure, and then he was running, bursting through back door with deafening force.
As he stumbled his way through the abandoned corridors, panting, gasping, the laughter echoed in his ears, the smile etched into his consciousness with horrible detail.
He wasn’t afraid.
He was not afraid.
But the eyes were still upon him.
~=~=~=~
Matthew had yet to move; not even a flinch of emotion had flickered across his face, stare stoned and focused; he heard the tentative footfall before a cacophony of hurried, retreating steps, the loud bang of the door against the wall. He waited a breath more, patiently listening; for if there was one thing the Canadian was, he was patient.
Quiet.
The other was gone.
Reassured by this, he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, casually sauntering to the gaping doorway. With his foot, he pushed the door close, shutting it with a muted click. He leaned back against it, unperturbed by the atmosphere, one leg jutted out in a supporting angle, the other neatly extended. For several moments, he seemed to contemplate the floor, regarding the cheap carpet with a mild, unreadable expression.
“Tell me, Matthew, my boy,” Arthur began, voice dripping with sickly sugar tones, “why are you being so protective of Alfred? It’s an overreaction, wouldn’t you agree?”
Matthew didn’t answer.
“After all,” the Briton continued, unaffected, taking several steps toward the blonde, “he is the same as we are, is he not? We are all equal here, no?”
Further silence.
Arthur was soon upon him, leaning over the Canadian, strong and assured; lips hovered near the outer shell of a sensitive ear, warm vibrations hissed low in a sudden anger, acidic and vehement.
“How long have you known?”
His muteness remained unbroken, still analyzing the floor with unusual focus; however, his mouth twitched, corners tweaked ever so slightly upward, mocking. The first words spoken were soft, smooth like the water’s surface.
“Now who’s overreacting?”
Bang.
Matthew blinked the stars away, a sharp pain reverberating throughout his skull, unable to tell if he was still smiling; he hoped so. The elder had him by the tie, slamming his head against the wall in a furious fit of rage.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Arthur seethed, punctuating the remark with another hard knock against the wall, fingers shaking around the silk of the necktie. The Canadian allowed his head to loll, rolling it to try and clear the slurring of the room. His voice was breathless, high, saturated with disdain. He might have been giggling, because the situation was just so absurd.
“You never asked.”
“Think you’re goddamn funny, do you?” the Briton bit out, digging his hands deeper into the fabric, “I’m not to be trifled with.” Matthew merely leaned his head back against the wall, consciousness aflame with sharp stabs of pain; he looked at Arthur under half-veiled lashes, a disturbingly coquettish gaze.
“You used to be so big.”
Matthew was beginning to fear permanent damage, especially given the intensity of the last slam; his vision was edged with wisp-like shadows, but he still had not lifted a finger against the assault, choosing instead to remain motionless, the stoic non-combatant. Arthur was trembling with anger, emerald irises glowing with an enraged intensity.
“No-don’t you dare fuck with me, Matthew; I won’t stand for it,” Arthur said, the words livid, toxic; suddenly, phrases murmured lowly, regretfully, “I should have done it when I had the chance.”
“But you have lost your chance, da?”
All eyes turned towards the source of the voice, shadowy amethyst eyes glittering under pale blonde fringe. The Russian steepled his raven-clad fingers, pressing back into the cushion on the chair; he smiled, playful.
“He is-how you say-‘up for grabs’?” The Briton sneered, lip curling as his hold on Matthew loosened, now focused on Ivan.
“Bollocks, he is,” Arthur said, incensed, “Alfred belongs to me.” Mutterings began, little whispers that flew from nation to nation with startling ease, ones of confusion, disagreement.
“If to anyone, he belongs to me, aru.”
Most turned their heads in shock to Yao, startled at his participation; standing straight-backed and proud, he examined the hem of a perfectly tailored sleeve, his air cool and calm.
“I currently own more than 800 billion dollars of his national debt,” the Chinaman voiced, tone faultless like silk, “more than any other country in the world, aru. That, aru, would be a logical way for him to pay it back.”
“I-I don’t understand,” Toris interrupted, extremely perturbed, “He’s only a little sick; it’s happened to all of us at some point. He should be able to just-”
“No, ve~”
The brunette looked over to Feliciano, whose smiling countenance had yet to fade. Pointer finger extended and neatly pressed against his lower lip, he rolled his eyes upwards, as if in speculation.
“Ludwig and I saw him last week, and he was awfully sick then, ve,” the Italian mused, “You think he would have would have already done it, no? It would be awfully silly of him not to, right, Ludwig?” The addressed man said nothing as Feliciano wrapped an arm around his own, squeezing. Toris looked only further confused, wrinkles lining his forehead.
“B-but-that doesn’t-”
Still smiling, expression mild and warm like a child’s, Feliciano purred, almost inaudibly, “He is not like us.”
The room was dominated by a deafening silence, terse and splintered. The realization dawned on those who had originally failed to understand, faces twisting into disbelief.
“That,” the Lithuanian faltered, “that-is impossible-”
No.
Merely unlucky.
“He doesn’t belong to you.”
Finally remembered, the nations turned to the one standing at the now open door; it was an over-the-shoulder look, his hand on the handle as he spoke.
“He doesn’t belong to any of you, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.” Francis smirked, slimy, dark.
“Mon chou, it is one against many; you have no chance. Come now, if you join us, we might even share.” Matthew didn’t even blink as he turned from them, fingers clenched into a fist at his side.
“You disgust me.”
And then he was gone.
~=~=~=~
Matthew knew he would be there; it was where he always went, though the Canadian wasn’t quite sure why. He approached the bench carefully, lightly, so as to not scare him; though the white oak trees were bare of leaves, the light trickled through the branches, casting playfully shadows on the ground. He placed a hand on the straight-backed stone; the other didn’t move.
“I know all their names, y’know.” Matthew exhaled a puff of moist mist, heavy and frigid.
“I know, Alfred; I know.”
A moment of suspended silence.
“You owe me an explanation.” Unsure. Hurt.
“I know.”
Alfred stood, stiff, cold; Matthew thought he saw a few glistening streaks on the other’s cheeks, though it could have just been a tease of the sun. He didn’t turn.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Hey everyone~ I hope you all enjoyed this set (which, thankfully, was a little longer than the previous). I'm setting my goal at a weekly update (every friday or saturday), and more if I can. I'm just so horribly busy it's hard to find time to write--but I want to try my best for you all! :D Anyway, thank you for all of your lovely comments and please continue to do so! Cookies for those who can guess where they are at the end.
Till next time~ :3