Re: Faint [1/2]
anonymous
February 3 2010, 03:32:57 UTC
“You’re going to hold this over my head forever, aren’t you.”
“I don’t think that’s what you should be worrying about right now,” said Russia. America stared glazedly into the bath water, as if in a trance. Russia turned him around to face him, America turning easily in his weakened state, and began undoing the buttons on his shirt still slicked with blood.
“I’ll do it myself,” America insisted. “You can go now.”
“I would leave you to it, but I’m not keen on leaving you alone with my razor,” mused Russia.
America swallowed, the perforation on his neck moving in a wave. “Look, I know you want to smack me for being a whiny bitch and -”
“But I won’t. I just don’t want you tracking blood in my house.”
“I’m serious. I would want to smack me too. I don’t even know what I was thinking, this isn’t as bad as it gets, it never is, and -”
Russia pressed two fingers to the end of America’s makeshift stitches, pressing them hard.
“-Ah-”
“You’re still bleeding. Just a bit.”
For a while America stood there, faint, until Russia decided there had been enough pressure and brushed off the remaining trickle. America slapped his hand to the spot, applying more pressure to the inundated bandage, making the edge of the cut burst again. As he started wobbling, Russia pushed him down onto the toilet. After a moment, America took his hand off his neck, looking down at his hand, through his hand, trying to evaluate how bad the bleeding was, but his eyes didn’t quite focus.
“So you will cooperate if I don’t hit you for doing this stupid thing, da?,” said Russia, again, continuing with the buttons. Some parts of the shirt were slick, some were caked. Though America pushed back at his arm weakly, there was still very little he could do.
“Don’t…”
“Don’t what,” asked Russia, “Don’t help you, when you’ll manage to find a way to drown in twenty centimeters of water?”
“Don’t look…”
“Again, you do not seem to have your priorities straight, America. You shouldn’t be concentrating on me helping you undress but rather whether you are going into shock or not.”
America blinked as Russia continued wrangling the bloodied clothes off of him. “W-what does shock feel like.”
“You would be able to tell,” said Russia, but just in case he took America’s wrist and checked his pulse. Worrying, but not too bad, not immediately too dangerous… “How are you feeling?”
“You said I wasn’t dying anymore…”
“I never said that, America. I only said I stopped the bleeding. Do you need to lie down?”
“I don’t think that’s what you should be worrying about right now,” said Russia. America stared glazedly into the bath water, as if in a trance. Russia turned him around to face him, America turning easily in his weakened state, and began undoing the buttons on his shirt still slicked with blood.
“I’ll do it myself,” America insisted. “You can go now.”
“I would leave you to it, but I’m not keen on leaving you alone with my razor,” mused Russia.
America swallowed, the perforation on his neck moving in a wave. “Look, I know you want to smack me for being a whiny bitch and -”
“But I won’t. I just don’t want you tracking blood in my house.”
“I’m serious. I would want to smack me too. I don’t even know what I was thinking, this isn’t as bad as it gets, it never is, and -”
Russia pressed two fingers to the end of America’s makeshift stitches, pressing them hard.
“-Ah-”
“You’re still bleeding. Just a bit.”
For a while America stood there, faint, until Russia decided there had been enough pressure and brushed off the remaining trickle. America slapped his hand to the spot, applying more pressure to the inundated bandage, making the edge of the cut burst again. As he started wobbling, Russia pushed him down onto the toilet. After a moment, America took his hand off his neck, looking down at his hand, through his hand, trying to evaluate how bad the bleeding was, but his eyes didn’t quite focus.
“So you will cooperate if I don’t hit you for doing this stupid thing, da?,” said Russia, again, continuing with the buttons. Some parts of the shirt were slick, some were caked. Though America pushed back at his arm weakly, there was still very little he could do.
“Don’t…”
“Don’t what,” asked Russia, “Don’t help you, when you’ll manage to find a way to drown in twenty centimeters of water?”
“Don’t look…”
“Again, you do not seem to have your priorities straight, America. You shouldn’t be concentrating on me helping you undress but rather whether you are going into shock or not.”
America blinked as Russia continued wrangling the bloodied clothes off of him. “W-what does shock feel like.”
“You would be able to tell,” said Russia, but just in case he took America’s wrist and checked his pulse. Worrying, but not too bad, not immediately too dangerous… “How are you feeling?”
“You said I wasn’t dying anymore…”
“I never said that, America. I only said I stopped the bleeding. Do you need to lie down?”
Reply
Leave a comment