Red (2a/?)
anonymous
September 28 2011, 17:39:30 UTC
Oh wow, thanks for the feedback you guys! <3 I've got most of this written but it hasn't been edited in a long time so I'm going over it. I'll try to be faster than I normally am - I don't want my capital to be Warsaw! (j/k :P ) -----
When all the bandaging was finally done, Ivan left him sitting there to find him some clothing. Everything he had was far too big, but at least it would be warm and at least it would be something. As he gathered up clothing from his chest of drawers, he realized he would need to find a place for Matthew to sleep. A bed, he needed a bed, but the bedroom was the coldest room in the house.
He returned to the bathroom, finding Matthew just as he had left him. The vodka had relaxed him a little; he was staring at the walls, looking shell-shocked. Ivan pressed the bundle of clothing into his newly-bandaged hands, and Matthew took it, stiffly. “Put this on, da? I return soon.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Instead he left, and went to the bedroom again, where he took the bedclothes off the bed and dragged the mattress out into the front room. It would be warmest there, in front of the fire, and Matthew needed a soft place to sleep. Once he had the mattress moved, he grabbed the bedclothes, all the blankets he had, and the pillow, and made the makeshift bed. He wished now that he had more pillows, but it had been a long time since he’d lived with such extravagancy.
He headed back to the bathroom to retrieve Matthew, who had managed to dress himself in the oversized clothing and was now standing in the middle of the room, unsteadily, arms wrapped around himself. He was trembling. Ivan walked up to him and carefully laid a hand on his arm, to lead him out. Inebriation delayed the inevitable flinch. “Come with me.”
He didn’t want to, at first, but Ivan kept tugging his arm - smiling all the while, because everyone trusted smiling people - and eventually Matthew followed him back into the front room, to the hearth.
“You need rest, now. The fire will keep you warm. Try to sleep, da?”
Matthew shook his head, in response to that, but he allowed Ivan to help him lie down on his side on the mattress, to cover him snugly with blankets. He didn’t close his eyes, though, just stared up at Ivan with an unreadable expression on his face.
Ivan stroked his hair once, gently. There were still spots that were stained pink, and it took a lot more willpower than it should have to keep his fingers from running themselves over those. He drew his hand back. “Sleep,” he murmured. “It is safe here.”
Matthew stared a while longer, Ivan staying with him all the while, and finally his eyelids drifted closed, and his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep. Ivan kept watch over him for some minutes after that, his eyes still tracing the injuries. He was so pale, so vulnerable-looking in sleep. There was no more blood on his face; it had been replaced with bandages, but their white made the black-and-blue bruising stand out even more.
Who would do such a thing? Ivan wondered. Why Canada? If anyone was going to go after a nation, why not his brother? Alfred had certainly antagonized far more people than Matthew ever had. Or, indeed, why not Ivan himself? He certainly deserved it, he thought, and was no stranger to such things. But Matthew? Ivan sighed, and rose to his feet. There was still work to be done.
Red (2b/?)
anonymous
September 28 2011, 17:41:12 UTC
He took hot water and a brush and set to scrubbing the blood from everything - the entryway, the hall, the bathroom. The bathroom was by far the worst, with streaks of red everywhere, and when he was done cleaning that he had to scrub the blood out from under his fingernails. He didn’t want it staying there. When that was done, he gathered up the towels, and Matthew’s clothing, and stuck them in the newly-clean bathtub which he filled with cold water. He stripped off his bloodied shirt and trousers, and put them in to soak as well. It would keep the stains from setting, overnight. He would do the laundry later; for now he needed to rest.
He picked up his bottle of vodka, downing the remnants in one swallow, and headed into the bedroom, shivering for want of clothes. He dressed himself - shirt, trousers, scarf - and grabbed his coat as he headed back to the front room. Matthew hadn’t moved.
Ivan laid down awkwardly on the sofa, knees hanging out over the side as he bent his legs to fit, pulled his coat over himself as a blanket, and went to sleep.
When he woke up the first thing he noticed was that the mattress was empty. He sat up, looking about the room, hoping to every deity he didn’t believe in that Matthew was still here somewhere - and not with them. Where -?
Finally Ivan saw him, sitting curled up on the floor in the far corner of the room - blankets gone, some bandages showing pink. He was asleep, breathing slowly but steadily. Ivan debated moving him, or waking him up, but decided against it for fear of panicking him again. Instead he grabbed the blankets, and carefully draped them around him, noticing that Matthew was thankfully a good deal warmer than he had been last night. Pale, still, but warmer.
He’d need food when he woke up. That could be difficult.
Ivan went to the kitchen, and carefully examined the cabinets and the small refrigerator. Not much there, mostly because as long as he had vodka he didn’t find it necessary to eat much, and he was running low on supplies anyway. He found a mostly-full tin of oatmeal, stashed in the back of a cupboard. Bland enough not to upset the stomach (he knew that lesson well…), easy to eat without chewing, and warm. Yes, that would work. He lit the stove and set about to boiling some up.
He managed to find the tea, too, and put that on to brew.
Re: Red (2b/?)
anonymous
September 28 2011, 17:42:46 UTC
Matthew finally woke up that afternoon, though he didn’t move from his corner. Ivan poured a mug of tea and ladled him out a bowl of oatmeal, stuck a spoon in it, and returned to the living room, holding out the bowl with a smile, feeling a little proud of himself. Now Matthew could eat. It was plain he hadn’t been getting enough food in a while.
Matthew took the mug with a shaking hand, but instead of taking the bowl as he expected, Matthew only stared at him.
“Porridge, da?” Ivan explained, though Matthew ought to be familiar with the food. He didn’t think there was anyone on Earth who wasn’t. “Is good. Eat.”
More staring. Ivan couldn’t read the expression on his face - not pain, and not pure terror like it had been last night, but he couldn’t tell just what it actually was. Finally he set the bowl down in front of him and backed away. Maybe he just needed to relax.
Ivan left the room, heading for the bathroom and the laundry he’d left there overnight. Most of the bloodstains hadn’t set, but it took a lot of scrubbing to get everything clean. When he’d hung all that up to dry and returned to the front room, he expected to see an empty bowl in front of Matthew.
It was still full. He’d drunk the tea, at least, but hadn’t eaten anything.
Ivan crouched in front of him again, though he took care to place himself more than an arm’s length away. Again he was reminded of just how big he was in comparison, and he remembered what it was like being on the opposite side of the conversation, and smiled, and tried to be gentle. “Why don’t you eat? Is it because it is cold now?”
Matthew shook his head, just barely.
“Is it because you don’t like it?”
No.
“Are you angry with me?”
A more emphatic no.
“If you don’t eat, then you’ll die.”
Matthew had no response for that.
Ivan sighed, and left it there. “You can move about the house, you know. You don’t need to remain in the corner.”
No answer.
He went to his bookshelf and pulled down a title - Erofeev, and that was another perk of being here and out from under his boss’s watchful eyes. He sat down on the sofa with it, Matthew staring as he did, and began to read. He would wait.
Re: Red (2b/?)
anonymous
October 1 2011, 05:45:13 UTC
Oh wow, I just came across this by chance, but I'm so glad I did because I really enjoyed reading what you have so far!!! Everything is so vivid (for example, Russia having to clean up Matthew's blood from all over his house), it's...unsettling, obviously, but in the most engaging way.
-----
When all the bandaging was finally done, Ivan left him sitting there to find him some clothing. Everything he had was far too big, but at least it would be warm and at least it would be something. As he gathered up clothing from his chest of drawers, he realized he would need to find a place for Matthew to sleep. A bed, he needed a bed, but the bedroom was the coldest room in the house.
He returned to the bathroom, finding Matthew just as he had left him. The vodka had relaxed him a little; he was staring at the walls, looking shell-shocked. Ivan pressed the bundle of clothing into his newly-bandaged hands, and Matthew took it, stiffly. “Put this on, da? I return soon.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Instead he left, and went to the bedroom again, where he took the bedclothes off the bed and dragged the mattress out into the front room. It would be warmest there, in front of the fire, and Matthew needed a soft place to sleep. Once he had the mattress moved, he grabbed the bedclothes, all the blankets he had, and the pillow, and made the makeshift bed. He wished now that he had more pillows, but it had been a long time since he’d lived with such extravagancy.
He headed back to the bathroom to retrieve Matthew, who had managed to dress himself in the oversized clothing and was now standing in the middle of the room, unsteadily, arms wrapped around himself. He was trembling. Ivan walked up to him and carefully laid a hand on his arm, to lead him out. Inebriation delayed the inevitable flinch. “Come with me.”
He didn’t want to, at first, but Ivan kept tugging his arm - smiling all the while, because everyone trusted smiling people - and eventually Matthew followed him back into the front room, to the hearth.
“You need rest, now. The fire will keep you warm. Try to sleep, da?”
Matthew shook his head, in response to that, but he allowed Ivan to help him lie down on his side on the mattress, to cover him snugly with blankets. He didn’t close his eyes, though, just stared up at Ivan with an unreadable expression on his face.
Ivan stroked his hair once, gently. There were still spots that were stained pink, and it took a lot more willpower than it should have to keep his fingers from running themselves over those. He drew his hand back. “Sleep,” he murmured. “It is safe here.”
Matthew stared a while longer, Ivan staying with him all the while, and finally his eyelids drifted closed, and his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep. Ivan kept watch over him for some minutes after that, his eyes still tracing the injuries. He was so pale, so vulnerable-looking in sleep. There was no more blood on his face; it had been replaced with bandages, but their white made the black-and-blue bruising stand out even more.
Who would do such a thing? Ivan wondered. Why Canada? If anyone was going to go after a nation, why not his brother? Alfred had certainly antagonized far more people than Matthew ever had. Or, indeed, why not Ivan himself? He certainly deserved it, he thought, and was no stranger to such things. But Matthew? Ivan sighed, and rose to his feet. There was still work to be done.
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He picked up his bottle of vodka, downing the remnants in one swallow, and headed into the bedroom, shivering for want of clothes. He dressed himself - shirt, trousers, scarf - and grabbed his coat as he headed back to the front room. Matthew hadn’t moved.
Ivan laid down awkwardly on the sofa, knees hanging out over the side as he bent his legs to fit, pulled his coat over himself as a blanket, and went to sleep.
When he woke up the first thing he noticed was that the mattress was empty. He sat up, looking about the room, hoping to every deity he didn’t believe in that Matthew was still here somewhere - and not with them. Where -?
Finally Ivan saw him, sitting curled up on the floor in the far corner of the room - blankets gone, some bandages showing pink. He was asleep, breathing slowly but steadily. Ivan debated moving him, or waking him up, but decided against it for fear of panicking him again. Instead he grabbed the blankets, and carefully draped them around him, noticing that Matthew was thankfully a good deal warmer than he had been last night. Pale, still, but warmer.
He’d need food when he woke up. That could be difficult.
Ivan went to the kitchen, and carefully examined the cabinets and the small refrigerator. Not much there, mostly because as long as he had vodka he didn’t find it necessary to eat much, and he was running low on supplies anyway. He found a mostly-full tin of oatmeal, stashed in the back of a cupboard. Bland enough not to upset the stomach (he knew that lesson well…), easy to eat without chewing, and warm. Yes, that would work. He lit the stove and set about to boiling some up.
He managed to find the tea, too, and put that on to brew.
Reply
Matthew took the mug with a shaking hand, but instead of taking the bowl as he expected, Matthew only stared at him.
“Porridge, da?” Ivan explained, though Matthew ought to be familiar with the food. He didn’t think there was anyone on Earth who wasn’t. “Is good. Eat.”
More staring. Ivan couldn’t read the expression on his face - not pain, and not pure terror like it had been last night, but he couldn’t tell just what it actually was. Finally he set the bowl down in front of him and backed away. Maybe he just needed to relax.
Ivan left the room, heading for the bathroom and the laundry he’d left there overnight. Most of the bloodstains hadn’t set, but it took a lot of scrubbing to get everything clean. When he’d hung all that up to dry and returned to the front room, he expected to see an empty bowl in front of Matthew.
It was still full. He’d drunk the tea, at least, but hadn’t eaten anything.
Ivan crouched in front of him again, though he took care to place himself more than an arm’s length away. Again he was reminded of just how big he was in comparison, and he remembered what it was like being on the opposite side of the conversation, and smiled, and tried to be gentle. “Why don’t you eat? Is it because it is cold now?”
Matthew shook his head, just barely.
“Is it because you don’t like it?”
No.
“Are you angry with me?”
A more emphatic no.
“If you don’t eat, then you’ll die.”
Matthew had no response for that.
Ivan sighed, and left it there. “You can move about the house, you know. You don’t need to remain in the corner.”
No answer.
He went to his bookshelf and pulled down a title - Erofeev, and that was another perk of being here and out from under his boss’s watchful eyes. He sat down on the sofa with it, Matthew staring as he did, and began to read. He would wait.
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Keep up the good work! :)
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