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Entry tags:
But not forever [Lithuania/Poland]
Title: But not forever
Characters/Pairing: Lithuania/Poland
Rating: 10+
Length: 290
Summary: Prompt was "Lithuania discovers Poland's WWII scars".
Other: Written for the Hetalia kink meme. (Original entry)
But not forever
What I see snatches the breath from my lungs. Your wide-eyed stare shoots straight through me. You tell me to stay or go, but for the love of god shut the door.
You turn away.
I shut the door.
In the candle’s light your hands shake as you retrieve your night-clothes from the drawer.
Though I try to set my eyes on your face all I can see are the wine-dark marks crossing over you, more numerous than the threads in a spider’s web. These deep-running wounds are a secret you kept hidden from me.
As I set my eyes on you in this dim light I see you have more scars than skin.
What I would give to kiss each one away. Press my lips to your flesh and draw out all that cranberry poison. What I would give to have been near enough to clean each angry wound and wrap your ragged flesh in clean bandages.
You took each blow with clenched teeth, feet planted firmly upon the ground. Smoke choked you and bullets pierced you and the cries of your people rang in your ears and you endured it all until dust settled.
Then you raised your head. You stubborn weed, you are like your poppy flowers. Cruel hands may try to pull you up but your roots are fingers reaching deep into the earth. The world will never be rid of you.
Now you wear your colours cut deep into your skin. As I brush my fingertips over your shoulder I can see thin strips of white among red. The blades cut deep but slowly you are healing.
It will be a long time, I say.
I know, you say. But I can wait. It won't be forever.
Characters/Pairing: Lithuania/Poland
Rating: 10+
Length: 290
Summary: Prompt was "Lithuania discovers Poland's WWII scars".
Other: Written for the Hetalia kink meme. (Original entry)
But not forever
What I see snatches the breath from my lungs. Your wide-eyed stare shoots straight through me. You tell me to stay or go, but for the love of god shut the door.
You turn away.
I shut the door.
In the candle’s light your hands shake as you retrieve your night-clothes from the drawer.
Though I try to set my eyes on your face all I can see are the wine-dark marks crossing over you, more numerous than the threads in a spider’s web. These deep-running wounds are a secret you kept hidden from me.
As I set my eyes on you in this dim light I see you have more scars than skin.
What I would give to kiss each one away. Press my lips to your flesh and draw out all that cranberry poison. What I would give to have been near enough to clean each angry wound and wrap your ragged flesh in clean bandages.
You took each blow with clenched teeth, feet planted firmly upon the ground. Smoke choked you and bullets pierced you and the cries of your people rang in your ears and you endured it all until dust settled.
Then you raised your head. You stubborn weed, you are like your poppy flowers. Cruel hands may try to pull you up but your roots are fingers reaching deep into the earth. The world will never be rid of you.
Now you wear your colours cut deep into your skin. As I brush my fingertips over your shoulder I can see thin strips of white among red. The blades cut deep but slowly you are healing.
It will be a long time, I say.
I know, you say. But I can wait. It won't be forever.