sleep soundly, love 3/?
anonymous
January 28 2011, 14:23:22 UTC
Thank you for your kind comments! The week is finally over, oh gosh, today was tiring and I nearly fell asleep during work O: And now I'm listening to 'Don't Cry' by Guns N' Roses while writing. My playlist is screwed up.
America stares at Canada, unblinking, scrutinising. Canada flinches, just a little, because the person looking at him, no, looking through him now doesn't quite seem like the person he calls his brother. But then again, are they even people in the first place? They are merely nations, personified, with human shells. Do they even have the right to love? He doesn't know the answer, and neither does he know if he wants the answer.
Canada swallows (a little too noisily) before he manages to speak once more. "What are you doing here?"
"I brought you here."
Pause. Silence. Swallow. Breathe.
"What for?"
"It's a big, bad world out there," America looks at him worriedly and reaches out to run his fingers through Canada's wheat coloured hair. "It's scary, so I brought you here, to hide from the nasty things out there," he shudders and his voice has an odd, child like quality that sends a shiver down Canada's spine.
"There's nothing you need to hide from," Canada's brow furrows and he squints to look at his brother. He does his best to keep his fear out of his voice, because America, no, whoever it is inside America's body is definitely not the person he has spent nearly his entire lifetime with.
"You're wrong," America glares at him and his tone is that of a teacher reprimanding a child who has just misbehaved. He sits down beside his brother and cradles his head gently, placing him on his lap, stroking his cheek. "They're trying to take whatever I have away from me," his voice is soft now, quiet, plaintive - almost.
Canada feels something gnaw at his heart as he looks at his brother, searching in his eyes for something, anything that may answer his questions as to why, no, what induced the inexplicable change in him.
"Who, America?" he presses, trying to probe deeper, to get more information. "Who?"
America's eyes widen and he shudders, holding him close. "Them," he replies. "Those scary people out there, who keep attacking me, who keep hurting me and I don't know what they want, I really don't know what they're trying to take away, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I don't know..." he trails off, voice seemingly stuck in his throat and shudders violently.
Canada feels as if he is being torn into two. He loves his brother, with all his heart and right now, he doesn't know if he loves him as a brother, or if he loves him as-
"You need to write your name on your toys to show that they belong to you, don't you?" America says suddenly, fear clouding his eyes, cutting off his train of thought. "I won't let them have you, Canada," he kisses his forehead.
Toys?
"What do you mean?" Canada asks weakly.
"You see, if I write my name on you, they'll know you're mine, so they can't touch you," he nods, trying to sound reassuring, except Canada wonders, who is it exactly that America is really trying to reassure - himself, him, or the both of them? "It'll be alright, trust me. I won't let them have you."
"America," Canada begins slowly, barely daring to breathe. "What are you doing?"
"Why, brother," America smiles, blue eyes gleaming dangerously underneath his glasses as he produces a dagger from his hip. "I'm making you mine."
Ummmm I hope you like this. I don't know why I keep writing twisted Americest /gets shot
Re: sleep soundly, love 3/?
anonymous
January 28 2011, 21:51:18 UTC
Dun dun dunnnnn!
"Except Canada wonders, who is it exactly that America is really trying to reassure - himself, him, or the both of them?" ^ I'm quite fond of that bit.
Late OP is Late
anonymous
January 30 2011, 14:57:08 UTC
Wha~ Sorry for not dropping a comment for a while, but this chapter, this is awesome! Yandere!US is so creepy and somehow hot as well. Poor Mattie ... Can't wait to see what comes next!
America stares at Canada, unblinking, scrutinising. Canada flinches, just a little, because the person looking at him, no, looking through him now doesn't quite seem like the person he calls his brother. But then again, are they even people in the first place? They are merely nations, personified, with human shells. Do they even have the right to love? He doesn't know the answer, and neither does he know if he wants the answer.
Canada swallows (a little too noisily) before he manages to speak once more. "What are you doing here?"
"I brought you here."
Pause. Silence. Swallow. Breathe.
"What for?"
"It's a big, bad world out there," America looks at him worriedly and reaches out to run his fingers through Canada's wheat coloured hair. "It's scary, so I brought you here, to hide from the nasty things out there," he shudders and his voice has an odd, child like quality that sends a shiver down Canada's spine.
"There's nothing you need to hide from," Canada's brow furrows and he squints to look at his brother. He does his best to keep his fear out of his voice, because America, no, whoever it is inside America's body is definitely not the person he has spent nearly his entire lifetime with.
"You're wrong," America glares at him and his tone is that of a teacher reprimanding a child who has just misbehaved. He sits down beside his brother and cradles his head gently, placing him on his lap, stroking his cheek. "They're trying to take whatever I have away from me," his voice is soft now, quiet, plaintive - almost.
Canada feels something gnaw at his heart as he looks at his brother, searching in his eyes for something, anything that may answer his questions as to why, no, what induced the inexplicable change in him.
"Who, America?" he presses, trying to probe deeper, to get more information. "Who?"
America's eyes widen and he shudders, holding him close. "Them," he replies. "Those scary people out there, who keep attacking me, who keep hurting me and I don't know what they want, I really don't know what they're trying to take away, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I don't know..." he trails off, voice seemingly stuck in his throat and shudders violently.
Canada feels as if he is being torn into two. He loves his brother, with all his heart and right now, he doesn't know if he loves him as a brother, or if he loves him as-
"You need to write your name on your toys to show that they belong to you, don't you?" America says suddenly, fear clouding his eyes, cutting off his train of thought. "I won't let them have you, Canada," he kisses his forehead.
Toys?
"What do you mean?" Canada asks weakly.
"You see, if I write my name on you, they'll know you're mine, so they can't touch you," he nods, trying to sound reassuring, except Canada wonders, who is it exactly that America is really trying to reassure - himself, him, or the both of them? "It'll be alright, trust me. I won't let them have you."
"America," Canada begins slowly, barely daring to breathe. "What are you doing?"
"Why, brother," America smiles, blue eyes gleaming dangerously underneath his glasses as he produces a dagger from his hip. "I'm making you mine."
Ummmm I hope you like this. I don't know why I keep writing twisted Americest /gets shot
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"Except Canada wonders, who is it exactly that America is really trying to reassure - himself, him, or the both of them?"
^ I'm quite fond of that bit.
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