He Ate My Heart [1/2]
anonymous
May 23 2010, 23:57:37 UTC
Not the anon who said they may do this. Sorry op, but this is short, and I kind of changed it a little, but I hope you enjoy. Also, listening to “Monster” while writing this is the most inappropriate thing ever.
Lithuania knew that no matter what he was going to get hurt.
He was either with the sweet being, afraid when the monster would come out, or facing the monster, frozen, as that black, black creature devoured him, hearing screams that were his own.
The sweet one, Russia’s real self, found out about it eventually (It was sort of a hard thing not to notice when your lover, who had been fine moments before, was suddenly bruised and bloody before you). He would help it if he could, but the best he could do was warn the brunet when he thought the monster was about to come out to play (it didn’t work very well, but he tried).
And Lithuania knew it wasn’t the other’s fault. He couldn’t help it anymore than Lithuania could stop his eyes from being green, but the monster was growing, growing and it was terrifying.
At first, it was just a friend to protect Russia against everything, because he was so tiny, bullied on almost all sides and easily invaded. He grew a person, made him tough, cold as General Winter, but the darkness in the night became too dark sometimes.
(There had been too much blood on Russia’s hands, so he blamed it on the monster and the monster accepted the blame).
It grew thirsty, hungry, and craved and grew.
Even Russia was terrified of him, because of what was done when he wasn’t there especially on those dark, dark nights.
Lithuania tiptoed around the creature often, sometimes tempting fate because Russia-beautiful, kind, well-meaning Russia-was in there sometimes and Lithuania was convinced that he could be the knight that Russia needed to slay the monster because he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer both of them could take. In Russia’s eyes, the darkness swirled in an eerie way and Lithuania knew that Russia was cracking, the monster was cracking, and pretty soon there wouldn’t be a wall left to distinguish the two.
He knew Russia meant well when they made love one night. It wasn’t about the sex, it was an apology, and he was delicate, whispering “I love you”s to the other, and Lithuania was happy and sated, and completely forgot the danger of being with Russia for such long periods of time.
He fell asleep with Russia’s arms around him and with a final kiss to his temple.
He awoke with hands around his neck and a heavy body on top of his.
The monster was crushing his windpipe with his large hands, his face contorted into anger and madness. Once Lithuania was aware enough of his surroundings, he fought against the hands and desperately for breath, hands and nails scraping everywhere, tears, and the monster might have been yelling at him, but it was dull against the roaring in Lithuania’s ears.
He was going to die, he thought, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was early Sunday morning, he just had tender sex the night before, and he was going to be choked to death by his lover’s separate personality.
He was thankful when the monster let go slap him harshly across the cheek.
“Do you understand me?” The monster hissed, yanking Lithuania’s chin towards him.
No. No. He didn’t even know what the other was even saying, but he whispered “Yes,” his throat still raw from trying to scream.
“If I catch you in my bed one more time, slut, I will kill you.” The words stung more than the physical pain of being struck.
Re: He Ate My Heart [2/2]
anonymous
May 24 2010, 00:00:48 UTC
It wasn’t Russia, though, Lithuania told himself. It wasn’t Russia. It was just the accumulation of pain that had been inflicted upon Russia over the years. It was just a defense mechanism from having his lands invaded, raped, and pillaged so many times.
And yet, the humiliation was still white-hot, when Lithuania had to scramble out of the bed, lest he anger the beast more, and he stood on the cold floor, naked and miserable.
The monster was uninterested, thankfully, and commanded, “Leave,” so Lithuania obliged happily.
He was worried though, worried about Russia’s reaction when he saw the handprint bruises that must be around his neck in accumulation to the love bites from the night before. Because Russia would likely get angry at himself for not knowing how to stop it, and then the monster would likely come out to punish Lithuania for upsetting Russia. Thus went the cycle, rinse, wash, repeat.
And the more his happened, the more Russia cracked further, the more violent he became, dependent on his beloved vodka, and the harder it was to tell the difference between the monster and the man.
Lithuania knew that no matter what he was going to get hurt, but the next time he’s struck, he can only hold back his tears, praying that the person hitting him isn’t his lover.
Freaking character limits. :< warned mercado. I have no clue what markets in danger have to do with this, captcha.
Lithuania knew that no matter what he was going to get hurt.
He was either with the sweet being, afraid when the monster would come out, or facing the monster, frozen, as that black, black creature devoured him, hearing screams that were his own.
The sweet one, Russia’s real self, found out about it eventually (It was sort of a hard thing not to notice when your lover, who had been fine moments before, was suddenly bruised and bloody before you). He would help it if he could, but the best he could do was warn the brunet when he thought the monster was about to come out to play (it didn’t work very well, but he tried).
And Lithuania knew it wasn’t the other’s fault. He couldn’t help it anymore than Lithuania could stop his eyes from being green, but the monster was growing, growing and it was terrifying.
At first, it was just a friend to protect Russia against everything, because he was so tiny, bullied on almost all sides and easily invaded. He grew a person, made him tough, cold as General Winter, but the darkness in the night became too dark sometimes.
(There had been too much blood on Russia’s hands, so he blamed it on the monster and the monster accepted the blame).
It grew thirsty, hungry, and craved and grew.
Even Russia was terrified of him, because of what was done when he wasn’t there especially on those dark, dark nights.
Lithuania tiptoed around the creature often, sometimes tempting fate because Russia-beautiful, kind, well-meaning Russia-was in there sometimes and Lithuania was convinced that he could be the knight that Russia needed to slay the monster because he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer both of them could take. In Russia’s eyes, the darkness swirled in an eerie way and Lithuania knew that Russia was cracking, the monster was cracking, and pretty soon there wouldn’t be a wall left to distinguish the two.
He knew Russia meant well when they made love one night. It wasn’t about the sex, it was an apology, and he was delicate, whispering “I love you”s to the other, and Lithuania was happy and sated, and completely forgot the danger of being with Russia for such long periods of time.
He fell asleep with Russia’s arms around him and with a final kiss to his temple.
He awoke with hands around his neck and a heavy body on top of his.
The monster was crushing his windpipe with his large hands, his face contorted into anger and madness. Once Lithuania was aware enough of his surroundings, he fought against the hands and desperately for breath, hands and nails scraping everywhere, tears, and the monster might have been yelling at him, but it was dull against the roaring in Lithuania’s ears.
He was going to die, he thought, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was early Sunday morning, he just had tender sex the night before, and he was going to be choked to death by his lover’s separate personality.
He was thankful when the monster let go slap him harshly across the cheek.
“Do you understand me?” The monster hissed, yanking Lithuania’s chin towards him.
No. No. He didn’t even know what the other was even saying, but he whispered “Yes,” his throat still raw from trying to scream.
“If I catch you in my bed one more time, slut, I will kill you.” The words stung more than the physical pain of being struck.
“Y-yes, sir.”
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And yet, the humiliation was still white-hot, when Lithuania had to scramble out of the bed, lest he anger the beast more, and he stood on the cold floor, naked and miserable.
The monster was uninterested, thankfully, and commanded, “Leave,” so Lithuania obliged happily.
He was worried though, worried about Russia’s reaction when he saw the handprint bruises that must be around his neck in accumulation to the love bites from the night before. Because Russia would likely get angry at himself for not knowing how to stop it, and then the monster would likely come out to punish Lithuania for upsetting Russia. Thus went the cycle, rinse, wash, repeat.
And the more his happened, the more Russia cracked further, the more violent he became, dependent on his beloved vodka, and the harder it was to tell the difference between the monster and the man.
Lithuania knew that no matter what he was going to get hurt, but the next time he’s struck, he can only hold back his tears, praying that the person hitting him isn’t his lover.
Freaking character limits. :< warned mercado. I have no clue what markets in danger have to do with this, captcha.
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Hope to see a bit of Russia's side though.
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