Behind Closed Doors [6/?]
anonymous
May 2 2011, 08:04:03 UTC
It wasn’t possible… it just wasn’t possible!
His horrified suspicions were confirmed when the blond, razor in hand, began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
Scars, some new and some fading marred the pale flesh all the way up to the Dane’s elbow.
He had been doing this for years.
Norway quaked in denial next to his friend. ‘No, no, no… Tell me you haven’t been doing this to yourself… tell me I’m imagining this.’
Denmark’s only reply was to scowl with distaste and scrub at the dried blood with the hem of his shirt.
“Hmm… you’re getting kind of dull,” he mused aloud as he tested the sharpness with his thumb. “I’m going to have to sharpen you soon.”
As the panic finally began to set in, Norway grabbed at Denmark’s shoulders to shake some sense into him - to beat the shit out of him, anything - but his hands only passed through the other man like that of a ghost’s.
‘Stop!’
Uable to touch and utterly helpless, he could do nothing as Denmark began to drag the sharp edge of the blade across his inner arm at the elbow.
Both men hissed as blade cut shallowly into flesh, drawing blood. It did not matter however many times Denmark cut himself and the fact would continue to remain unnoticed - no bloodstain could be visible amongst the sea of red that was the nation’s beloved Dannebrog bedspread.
“Is that enough blood for you Norge?”
Norway twitched, nauseous.
Denmark’s eyes had this faraway look in them. “No… it’s never enough, is it?” the blond muttered to himself, cutting again. “I’d have to bleed myself dry before my sins will ever be repaid.”
Another cut.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he sounded like a child. “I know I can’t go back, but I just want it to be like it used to be - back when it was just the two us. Before the others. Before you hated me.”
Denmark choked on a sob.
‘Damn it bastard, I don’t hate you!’
“No… no amount of recompense will ever satisfy you. Same goes for Sverige. The two of you will never be happy until I’m dead.”
‘That’s not true!’
Another cut. More blood.
‘Please stop!’
“I love you Norge.”
And it was here, behind closed doors where no one could see him cry, Norway began to weep.
Thanks!:) I actually started writing the majority of prts 5 and 6 first before I started writing the beginning - the angst called to me and needed to feed that beast!
A!A has returned!
anonymous
March 5 2012, 07:30:27 UTC
Oh God, I am so sorry! I never meant to leave you guys hanging like that. It was never my intention to abandon this story and since I know excuses don't mean much, I won’t bother giving any. I just hope you can forgive me for taking so long:’(
Behind Closed Doors [7/?]
anonymous
March 5 2012, 07:47:33 UTC
“Norge?”
Denmark’s head whipped up unexpectedly, but the sudden kneejerk movement caused him to bring the blade down a little too hard; the sharp edge cutting easily through flesh, muscle, tendon and vein.
He dropped the knife, crying out in shock.
“Shit!” he hissed, grabbing blindly for the first aid kit. "Shit, shit, shit!"
The wound was deep; far deeper then he’d ever gone before. Blood was gushing down his arm in rivers; seeping through the clumsy fingers that tried desperately to staunch the flow.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Bloody fingers left crimson fingerprints on everything he touched, but Denmark failed to notice as he slapped an already solid gauze pad on his wrist and began binding it sloppily with the slippery bandages; fashioning a knot to keep it all in place.
"Oh fuck me." the Dane mumbled as he stumbled to his feet, proceeding to leave gory trail behind him from the bedroom to the bathroom. "I'm not going to be able to hide it this time..."
Hands danced under lukewarm water as he tried to wash them clean, but the lack of blood and the bathroom’s florescent lighting was making him increasingly lightheaded and that combination was making him want to vomit.
He didn’t even bother to dry his hands.
‘Norge…’
Denmark stopped as his path crossed with his bedroom door, going cross-eyed as stared at the scene of carnage he had created. It all seemed so surreal right now, but the moment before he cut too deep that he could have sworn that he had heard something.
It had been the sound of Norway crying.
Just a guilty conscience, he supposed; his karma finally catching up with him.
It couldn't have been real.
Sliding down the doorframe, he came to rest at an awkward angle when he could go no farther. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore; the rest of arm rapidly going numb. A shiver ran though him as he his breath began to grow shallow and eyes struggled to remain open as his delirious mind allowed him one last vision of the man he loved.
He reached out; the fingers of his uninjured hand trying to brush the tears from the eyes of the barely visible mirage.
He smiled one last time.
“Forgive me…”
And his eyes slid shut before Norway even had the chance to anwser.
His horrified suspicions were confirmed when the blond, razor in hand, began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
Scars, some new and some fading marred the pale flesh all the way up to the Dane’s elbow.
He had been doing this for years.
Norway quaked in denial next to his friend. ‘No, no, no… Tell me you haven’t been doing this to yourself… tell me I’m imagining this.’
Denmark’s only reply was to scowl with distaste and scrub at the dried blood with the hem of his shirt.
“Hmm… you’re getting kind of dull,” he mused aloud as he tested the sharpness with his thumb. “I’m going to have to sharpen you soon.”
As the panic finally began to set in, Norway grabbed at Denmark’s shoulders to shake some sense into him - to beat the shit out of him, anything - but his hands only passed through the other man like that of a ghost’s.
‘Stop!’
Uable to touch and utterly helpless, he could do nothing as Denmark began to drag the sharp edge of the blade across his inner arm at the elbow.
Both men hissed as blade cut shallowly into flesh, drawing blood. It did not matter however many times Denmark cut himself and the fact would continue to remain unnoticed - no bloodstain could be visible amongst the sea of red that was the nation’s beloved Dannebrog bedspread.
“Is that enough blood for you Norge?”
Norway twitched, nauseous.
Denmark’s eyes had this faraway look in them. “No… it’s never enough, is it?” the blond muttered to himself, cutting again. “I’d have to bleed myself dry before my sins will ever be repaid.”
Another cut.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he sounded like a child. “I know I can’t go back, but I just want it to be like it used to be - back when it was just the two us. Before the others. Before you hated me.”
Denmark choked on a sob.
‘Damn it bastard, I don’t hate you!’
“No… no amount of recompense will ever satisfy you. Same goes for Sverige. The two of you will never be happy until I’m dead.”
‘That’s not true!’
Another cut. More blood.
‘Please stop!’
“I love you Norge.”
And it was here, behind closed doors where no one could see him cry, Norway began to weep.
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;A;
PLEASE..........DON'T ABANDON THIS. IT'S REALLY GOOD ;A; ;A;
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Denmark’s head whipped up unexpectedly, but the sudden kneejerk movement caused him to bring the blade down a little too hard; the sharp edge cutting easily through flesh, muscle, tendon and vein.
He dropped the knife, crying out in shock.
“Shit!” he hissed, grabbing blindly for the first aid kit. "Shit, shit, shit!"
The wound was deep; far deeper then he’d ever gone before. Blood was gushing down his arm in rivers; seeping through the clumsy fingers that tried desperately to staunch the flow.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Bloody fingers left crimson fingerprints on everything he touched, but Denmark failed to notice as he slapped an already solid gauze pad on his wrist and began binding it sloppily with the slippery bandages; fashioning a knot to keep it all in place.
"Oh fuck me." the Dane mumbled as he stumbled to his feet, proceeding to leave gory trail behind him from the bedroom to the bathroom. "I'm not going to be able to hide it this time..."
Hands danced under lukewarm water as he tried to wash them clean, but the lack of blood and the bathroom’s florescent lighting was making him increasingly lightheaded and that combination was making him want to vomit.
He didn’t even bother to dry his hands.
‘Norge…’
Denmark stopped as his path crossed with his bedroom door, going cross-eyed as stared at the scene of carnage he had created. It all seemed so surreal right now, but the moment before he cut too deep that he could have sworn that he had heard something.
It had been the sound of Norway crying.
Just a guilty conscience, he supposed; his karma finally catching up with him.
It couldn't have been real.
Sliding down the doorframe, he came to rest at an awkward angle when he could go no farther. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore; the rest of arm rapidly going numb. A shiver ran though him as he his breath began to grow shallow and eyes struggled to remain open as his delirious mind allowed him one last vision of the man he loved.
He reached out; the fingers of his uninjured hand trying to brush the tears from the eyes of the barely visible mirage.
He smiled one last time.
“Forgive me…”
And his eyes slid shut before Norway even had the chance to anwser.
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