Hetalia Drabble - Feeling Insignificant
Me + classical music + Mars + an upcoming psychology appointment = this piece of garbled nonsense.
Title: Feeling insignificant
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing(s)/Characters: America
Rating: U
He used to kneel there for hours with his small hands, slippy with sweat, braced on the sill, his back arched inwards and the skin of his stomach stretching with the pose. He used to kneel and stare; at the stars, the sky...True that then the stars were no less common than rain in April, but it had always fascinated him to this very day.
Sometimes he liked to feel insignificant.
He remembered how they would fill the fogged and small panes of glass and then stretch upwards and beyond so that even with his pudgy cheek pressed hard against the wood and cold he could still not see and would only manage to cause an ache behind his eyes to mix with the ache of yearning for moremoremore. He remembered nights spent secretly staring over the vast sky when he should have been in bed hours ago. He remembered the cold nipping at his small and grubby toes and pinching his cheeks, watering his eyes, pricking his nose on the occasions he would throw the window wide and, with a scuffle and discomfort, fit his head out to crane and dangerously gaze in awe at the surrounding universe.
Seemed like back then the world centred around the one outside instead of that inside. Seemed like then there was nothing but childish simplicity which found pleasures in natural beauty, cooking, visits from people held close and the warmth of a bed heated by a bedpan of hot coals.
Seems like now things are all too different. He liked it of course - thrived off it, fought for it, lived because of it - but there were times, perhaps after a heated debate, a government scandal, a war, when it became simply suffocating.
It was times like those - no, times like these, he reminded himself as the presence of new wounds pierced his calm through gauze bandages - that he liked to revisit the days of old. And that's why, with the mug of coffee sitting abandoned by maps and papers sharing a similar fate, a smile nostalgic and raw against the sensitive brashness of what was quickly becoming a second Great War tipped and cracked weak lips in a long forgotten expression of relief. That's why fingers, cut and cold and shaky, scrabbled for glasses that lay on the desk, and that's why he found himself once more pressed against the window in his room to stare out upon the darkening skies at a planet glittering a faint red above the horizon.
America should have been in bed hours ago.
Title: Feeling insignificant
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing(s)/Characters: America
Rating: U
He used to kneel there for hours with his small hands, slippy with sweat, braced on the sill, his back arched inwards and the skin of his stomach stretching with the pose. He used to kneel and stare; at the stars, the sky...True that then the stars were no less common than rain in April, but it had always fascinated him to this very day.
Sometimes he liked to feel insignificant.
He remembered how they would fill the fogged and small panes of glass and then stretch upwards and beyond so that even with his pudgy cheek pressed hard against the wood and cold he could still not see and would only manage to cause an ache behind his eyes to mix with the ache of yearning for moremoremore. He remembered nights spent secretly staring over the vast sky when he should have been in bed hours ago. He remembered the cold nipping at his small and grubby toes and pinching his cheeks, watering his eyes, pricking his nose on the occasions he would throw the window wide and, with a scuffle and discomfort, fit his head out to crane and dangerously gaze in awe at the surrounding universe.
Seemed like back then the world centred around the one outside instead of that inside. Seemed like then there was nothing but childish simplicity which found pleasures in natural beauty, cooking, visits from people held close and the warmth of a bed heated by a bedpan of hot coals.
Seems like now things are all too different. He liked it of course - thrived off it, fought for it, lived because of it - but there were times, perhaps after a heated debate, a government scandal, a war, when it became simply suffocating.
It was times like those - no, times like these, he reminded himself as the presence of new wounds pierced his calm through gauze bandages - that he liked to revisit the days of old. And that's why, with the mug of coffee sitting abandoned by maps and papers sharing a similar fate, a smile nostalgic and raw against the sensitive brashness of what was quickly becoming a second Great War tipped and cracked weak lips in a long forgotten expression of relief. That's why fingers, cut and cold and shaky, scrabbled for glasses that lay on the desk, and that's why he found himself once more pressed against the window in his room to stare out upon the darkening skies at a planet glittering a faint red above the horizon.
America should have been in bed hours ago.