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hetalia2010-11-22 09:30 pm
These Boots Are Made For Walkin' 4/?
I feel quite bad about that.
Ah well.
MY ITALY COSTUME CAME TODAY!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY~!!!
Also, just watched episode 34 or 35-something of Hetalia World Series- the one where Iggy's all "lol they'll never recognise me while im dressed in this snazzy get up, maybe im more handsome than i thought.....LULZJOKZ"
D:
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL IGGY!! YOU ARE!!!
Anyhoo- pointless and unrelated rant OVER.
Title: These Boots Are Made For Walkin'
Series: Hetalia Axis Powers
Rating: 17
Warning: Nightmares and American terms, school and Arthur's pyjamas.
Pairings: US/UK, PolLiet, possible Rus/US (though its fleeting and creepy) and a few more...hanging around.
Summary: Alfred, a student in a London University, has a strong mindset that Love exists as more than a hormone, and that everyone is entitled to love and be loved. So when he meets a male prostitute after a freak escape, will his mindset be shaken?
When Toris woke up he didn't know where he was.
But that was nothing new.
His eyes examined the ceiling tiredly, charting the cracks in the paintwork on the unfamiliar expanse of warm white. Slowly his eyes took in other details, such as where the ceiling met the walls. Where the kitchen was placed. And how far the door was from where he lay.
He blinked slowly. Breathing mechanical. Expression dead. His handsome face dimmed behind a veil of melancholy. He felt so tired. Not exhausted, per say, but heavy. As if he couldn't be bothered any more. As if nothing worse could be done to him. As if there was no point in even waking up and thinking; hay. Today might be better.
There was a sound of movement to his right and Toris automatically flinched. Someone kneeled beside him. He could feel their presence pressing against him, hear the sound of the carpet against their feet, even though he had defensively turned his head away.
The person seemed to hesitate. He could hear their breathing. Fast and shallow. Then.
“Toris?”
Toris had never moved so fast in his life. He spun onto his side and stared, his brown eyes wide, at the person on his knees beside him.
“Feliks?”
Feliks' pretty, pale face broke into a watery smile, it was the most beautiful sight Toris had ever seen, and so welcome that it made his heart ache back to life.
“Hay, Liet.” He seemed to choke on the name because it appeared to catch in his throat and made his eyes shiny with tears.
They where still for a moment, then Toris' hand shot out and was gripping the Polish boys jacket before he even knew it had moved. Feliks' own small, delicate hand settled on top of his. The skin was cold and smooth, exactly the same as how he remembered it. Toris couldn't stop taking deep breaths. Drawing Feliks' familiar, delicious smell into himself, waking up old memories like a fire given oxygen, flaring up with divine heat and washing the deep cold away. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, his right hand coming to grip Feliks' arm, while the left shifted and pressed hard into the warm space between Feliks' sholderblades. Feliks' squeezed the hand beneath his, and ran his palm over the thin button-down shirt covering Toris' waist. Toris' hand shifted again, sliding up to grip the thick blond locks at the nape of Feliks' neck, he flexed his fingers, felling the lush, satiny hair. Reminding himself of it. They inclined their heads in the same moment, and pressed their foreheads together. Then Toris broke and heaved Feliks' entire body against his own, crushing the other man to his chest and burying his face into Feliks' shoulder and Feliks held him back just as tightly.
Feliks shut the door to Alfred's room, paused, then looked up to the taller man and the prostitute opposite him.
Alfred stood awkwardly in the gloom, leaning on one foot and gnawing on the straps of his bandaged right hand. Arthur beside him stood cool and steady, though he gave off a peculiar aura, as if he felt guilty, or intrusive.
“Liet's asleep.” He said. The silence fell again and Feliks watched the floor, gathering his words.
“We need to tell someone what's happened.” Alfred looked up, aghast, but Feliks cut him off. “We need to tell a teacher, then we call the police.”
Out of the corner of his eye Feliks caught sight of Arthur crossing his arms tightly across his chest, but he ignored it. He could only manage one issue at a time.
Alfred stood rooted to the spot. Terror was creeping into his expression, casting a shadow over his face and hooding his blue eyes. His fingers scrabbled at his shirtsleeve and danced over the binding on his hand. The cold was creeping through his body. Chilling his toes and moving up to curl around his heart.
Alfred wet his lips. “I can't.” He whispered, his eyes fixed to a spot on the wall. He wouldn't be able to tell them. There was no way. They would just look at him with pitying, horror-filled eyes. They would see him as a broken person. Someone to be talked about and treated delicately. Always separated. Always alone. Completely alone.
He couldn't stand the idea of people knowing.
Feliks stepped forward, the movement causing Alfred's eyes to flick towards him. “Alfred you have too.” His tone was imploring and lined with lead. “Think about all the books you've read, all the experiences you've learned about. Didn't you always ask me 'why didn't they just tell someone?' Well now you know, Alfred. And you also know that telling someone is one of the best counter actions you can take. If you tell someone things can start getting better.”
Alfred looked up. His eyes where wide and fearful. “Please, Feliks.” He begged, his voice small. “Please don't make me tell someone.”
“Ignoring the problem is not going to make it go away. I thought you where smarter than this, Alfred.”
Feliks took another step forward and wrapped his fingers around Alfred's shivering arms. The warmth from his palms drawing Alfred back into the present.
Feliks smiled. “Well you, like, totally have the advantage anyway. I mean at least you, like, know what's happening and shit.”
Alfred blinked and smiled shakily back at his friend. “Yeah.” He whispered, feeling heat flow back through his body. “I guess I do.”
Feliks slapped his arm. “There you go!” He grinned. Then he turned back to the door and rested his hand against the worn copper handle.
“We'll go talk to Teacher tomorrow.” He said, then left for his own room and Toris.
Silence settled on the room then Alfred let out a massive sigh.
“He's right.” He exclaimed softly, leaning against his bed.
Arthur looked at him through drawn and darkened eyes.
Alfred pressed both hands to his face and scrubbed it, pinking his cheeks. “I'm such an idiot.” He sighed as he dropped his hands. “I need to stop being so scared. The best thing to do is tell someone. I always said telling someone was the best thing to do. I can't believe I've been such a hypocrite.”
“No one can tell how they're going to react in a situation until they've been through it.” Arthur said quietly.
Alfred looked up and smiled humourlessly, then he hardened his expression. “Well, it's time I took some responsibility for some things.”
Arthur looked like he was about to contradict him but Alfred was already standing up and wondering around his darkened room, flicking on the lights, then he headed over to his bedside table and picked up the glowing digital clock, opened a drawer and placed the clock inside, then shut the drawer again. All the while he muttered to himself. “I can tell someone. I can tell someone. It's the best thing to do. Then things can get better. I can tell someone.”
Arthur frowned, slightly alarmed by the younger man's actions. “Alfred. Are you alright?” He asked, his eyebrow raising slightly.
Alfred glanced up through the messy locks of hair that had fallen into his face, from where he was taking down a Paramore poster. “Hmm? I'm fine, why do you ask?”
Arthur stepped out the way as Alfred folded the poster so that it too could go into the drawer along with the clock. “It's just, why are you putting your stuff in that drawer? It's a little disorientating.”
“Well.” Alfred explained, “I'm taking steps to minimalise the risk of panic attacks and stuff brought on by my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” He grasped the handle to his bedroom window and shook it, making sure that is was secure, then he let the blinds slide down, blocking out the sky and it's darkness.
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Arthur rolled the words around his small mouth and didn't sound reassured.
“That's right.” Alfred smiled “Through lucky for me I seem to have it mildly.”
“Oh, obviously. However I find it difficult to imagine how a digital clock is going to induce a panic attack.” Arthur voiced.
Alfred thought for a moment. “It's kinda about distraction.” He elaborated. “I mean. If I wake up in the middle of the night from a night-terror then it will take me longer to read an analogue clock than it would be to read a digital one. And even the smallest break from thinking about..” A flash of violet eyes shocked across Alfred's mind like lightning. He stood for a moment, staring at where they had been. “Helps...” He muttered softly.
“Alfred?” Arthur's voice called to him, not even bothering to mask the concern.
Alfred looked at him softly, then took a wrist-watch from the top of his chest of drawers. He padded over to his bedside table and set it down, its small white face angled towards the pillows of his bed. He turned and sat on the edge of the mattress and counted on his fingers.
“Ok, so I've been having mild flashbacks. So far; nothing serious. ” He tapped his right index finger. Then appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm, I do seem to have been experiencing intrusive recollections though.” He murmured, thinking of the eyes, and the sensation of being touched. “I've been having sleep disturbances, but so far I haven't been waking up screaming my head off and I've had a panic attack or two, that about sums it up.” He slapped his knees lightly and stood back up, smiling as if he had accomplished something.
“And I haven't been suffering from bursts of anger, lapses in concentration, hyper-alertness, emotional numbness, avoidance behaviour, difficulty with intimacy, guilt and self-blame, depression or traumatic grief and as far as I can tell I haven't developed any comfort-eating habits...Though I may need to cut back on the caffeine.” He grinned and flashed Arthur the thumbs-up.
Arthur gave Alfred the look that seemed to question his mental stability again. “What a commendable achievement for you. I wonder why it was I ever doubted the sheer stubbornness of your sanity.”
Alfred's smile slipped off his face and he wet his lips nervously. “Hay, Arthur.” He probed gently. “Can you do me a favour?”
Arthur looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And of what nature is this favour?” He asked.
Alfred swallowed and tried to forcedown the overwhelming fear that had leeched into his stomach.
“Can you sleep in my bed tonight?”
Arthur felt his body heat up as his eyes widened. For some reason he felt betrayed and it was as though a knife had been plunged into his stomach, the hot metal bleeding into his chest. He could feel the threads of trust pulled to the brink of snapping. His lips pressed together and his heart pounded hard.
Alfred's warm hand closed around Arthur's arm. His sky-blue eyes where wide, trying to encourage trust and understanding. “Not like that.” He assured. “It's just, I guess it's better than sleeping on the couch again.” He laughed nervously.
The laughter faulted and died on his lips. Alfred let Arthur's arm slip from his fingers and he sighed. “I just...I can't sleep alone right now.” He murmured, unable to meet the smaller man's eyes.
Arthur brushed his choppy blond hair out of his eyes, folded his arms and looked up at Alfred, his expression slightly irritated, or defensive. Alfred rubbed at the back of his neck and clenched his jaw.
“But you barely know me.” He probed.
Alfred looked uncomfortable. “I know.”
“I'm a prostitute.” The smaller man pressed.
Alfred tossed his head and shifted his weight. “I know.”
“I'm also a man.” Arthur watched the students face intently.
“So?” Alfred exclaimed, throwing his arms out. Exasperation weighed on his shoulders heavily, but there was also fear. Fear at the prospect of sitting alone in the dark for hours on end. Watching the shadows and being continually dragged back into the past. Again and again and again. Each time as vivid and terrifying as it had been in that dark car with Ivan. “Look, if you don't want to then I understand. I do. I just wanted...” He trailed off and brought his hands to his arms, his breathing quickened and he had to resist the pressing temptation to glance around. To check the shadows.
“Alright.”
Alfred blinked. “Huh?”
“I said alright!” Arthur snapped. “Pompous git, I didn't think you where going to do anything. Your far to virginal for that.”
Alfred ignored the comment and smiled as relief rushed through him.
“Thank you.” He said the warmth he felt heating his words.
Arthur blinked.
“...Your welcome.”
When Toris woke up he didn't know where he was.
The experience was beginning to spark some confusion as of late.
He searched the ceiling, eyes quick to take in details. He noticed that it was still dark, the blinds drawn against the night and the glow of streetlamps. Toris could even hear the occasional car as it drove sown the street, floors below him. Toris blinked and observed the room around him. The walls edging the room where pale, some adorned with shelves of books, toys, and makeup, while a desk was pushed up against the other, it's surface dotted with pencil-cases, more books and makeup and piles of paper and files. He noticed that he was in a bed in the corner of the room. Whats more this bed was soft, warm...
..And littered with stuffed toys.
“Water?” Asked a voice as soft as the animals fur that was pressed against Toris' cheek.
Toris turned his head and gave a grin to the man next to him that warmed the entire room with it's sincerity.
He nodded and Feliks helped him sit up, propping the squishy pillows behind his back. The white cotton duvet was thrown out over his legs as if he was sitting in a thick white cloud, however being shifted into an upright position had not lessened the illusion of being drowned in a sea of soft-toys and TY beanie-babies.
He observed them for a while, then looked up at Feliks as if for an explanation.
“I thought you would like them.” Feliks muttered, handing Toris a tall glass of crystal-clear water.
Toris drank deeply from the glass, keeping quiet about how much the ridiculous motion had helped. He held the glass in both hands and smiled at the memories playing across his chocolate coloured eyes. “It's certainly brought everything back in full force.”
Feliks folded his arms over the top of the mattress and looked up at his partner. “You aren't sounding as totally psyched as I was expecting you to be.” He smiled.
Toris laughed and Feliks' smile widened. When was the last time he had heard Toris laugh?
Even Toris didn't know.
He shook his head, smiling. “You have no idea, Feliks.”
The blond man's smile slipped a bit, his green eyes dimming.
Toris handed the empty glass back and Feliks set it down on the floor. Then with a sigh the brunette man lay back down, lifting the duvet for the other. Feliks climbed into bed with him and wrapped his arms around Toris' lithe frame. They pressed close to each other, their legs entwining. Feliks allowed himself to fall asleep for the first time that night, and Toris revelled in the impossibility of it all before he too slipped back into unconsciousness.
Alfred was sure that if he reached out he would be able to touch the fat, pale raindrops falling in sheets passed his face. But he didn't reach out. He just kept walking. Step. Step. Step. He shivered and suddenly the rain was drenching his body. Alfred gasped as he froze and drowned.
“Are you alright? You are not cold?”
Alfred turned to look at the Russian man next to him. He swallowed, frowning worriedly. Why was he worried? A strange feeling of anxiety hung over him like a like a satin veil. He opened his mouth to reply before thinking better of it. Instead he closed his mouth again, and turned to look out the window.
“I don't recognise this part of London.”
Alfred heard the words, but he simply continued to gaze out the window. There where some shapes in the darkness. Towering blocks of shadowy buildings. Their windows and doors just about visible if Alfred squinted really hard, and as he looked they shifted and twisted under his scrutiny. At first they had been the gigantic residential buildings he remembered from his home city in America, and as he watched they warped into cramped, dingy structures that sparked a twinge of recognition and alarm in Alfred's heart. He shifted forward, craning his neck to try and see above the roofs of the buildings. Alfred kept leaning until his cheek was pressed against the rain-speckled window and his breath fogged up the glass, but no matter how hard he tried he could see no end to the monumental structures. Not even a chink of night sky escaped the looming sky-scrapers.
Alfred was chocking. The buildings where so close, so tall. He was boxed in with no way out. Someone was murmuring. The voice was all around him, echoing, pressing against his ears. Alfred stuttered and swatted at the air, trying to throw the voice away, to keep it from crawling into his head.
The voice had a colour and that colour was red. It filled Alfred's head and bleached everything crimson. It burned like the sun on his closed eyelids. He had to open his eyes. He had to, before it became everything. He had to. Open his eyes. Open his eyes.
Open your eyes.
Alfred's eyelids flew open and he was falling. Whether he was plummeting up or down he did not know, he was only awair that he was hurtling to nowhere, destinationless. Out of the darkness came lights. Orange like streetlamps. Red like car lights. Some where near. Others far-off pinpricks in the distance.
A tiny spark of heat flickered to life in the centre...glowing like a pinprick.
…
Who did that remind him of?
One light flew right passed Alfred's face and he whirled backwards.
And Ivan was there.
He and that man. The both of them where suspended in a deep violet world. They faced each other across the void.
“Добрый вечер, Alfred.”
Images flashed across Alfred's mind. Whipping across the void itself, behind his eyes.
Alfred's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. Pink coat flapping behind him. Panting, their breath misting before them in the chilled night air. The room flooded back to Alfred. A tiny spark of heat flickered to life in the centre of the cold nothing. Taking Alfred's larger hand in his. Alfred blinked in confusion, then the line went dead. forsaking the caller-ID displayed on the glowing screen. Facing each other, the duvet drawn up to their chins. His fair skin was completely clean. Feeling the familiar soft cotton shirt. I'd rather break my fist for a second time.
…...Smiled sarcasticly. “Oh goodie.”
“It's …...”
“What? What's it to you, boy?”
“O...n...........eyes.”
Smoky grey eye-shadow.
“Alfred is so silly, so desperate to elude me.” Ivan was smiling sweetly. His violet eyes shining brightly in the void. “You are a very beautiful man, Alfred.” He informed him. “Maybe...I should break you, like Toris. He is beautiful too.”
Alfred considered running, but his legs wouldn't obey him, and Ivan's hands where on him. His arms where above his head and he couldn't move. Couldn't scream. All he could do was feel the pure white terror festering in his body, eating up his insides and burning him. Freezing fingers pressed to him, from frantically sweating palms to stock-still toes. They pushed against him until they stabbed through, injecting the cold, and nearly stopping his heart. A mouth was against his neck, hands against his waist, and everywhere they touched the terror and the cold intensified.
Alfred still couldn't scream.
“Open your eyes.”
Through the cold Alfred was abruptly awair of a pressure on his wrists, and suddenly his hands where freed and down by his sides.
Like a movie, a picture took form before Alfred's eyes. It was small and gray, static and spots confusing it's image. Then slowly the images grew and cleared. The pictures growing and growing and colour saturating the shadows. And suddenly they where recognisable.
Arthur was close to him, his lips moving and forming words, his hands holding Alfred's arms down by his sides. He was leaning and gazing deeply into Alfred's face as he lay. His face grounded Alfred, reassuring him as he lay there, taking the moment in. When the fear had been neutralized and extinguished, the coldness defeated and expelled. All that was left behind was Alfred, the wonderful presence of Arthur, and a comforting, dull haze of sleep flowing through his body.
“Open your eyes, Alfred.”
“They are open.” Alfred's voice was heavy and sleep-laden even to Alfred's ears.
Arthur smirked, his hand lifted and ran through the thick golden locks on Alfred's head. He shifted and settled his weight on the American boy, lying flush against him.
“You're not cold any more, Alfred.” He whispered, watching those blue eyes disappear back behind heavy lids and long eyelashes. “I'm here.”
Alfred fell into the most comfortable and restful sleep he had had in what felt like weeks.
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no subject
Great chapter!
Mod here
no subject
Oh ho ho ho! yes, dream sequence was my first dream sequence ever, therefore it seems some people where liek "wut". the end bit was the wierd sence of half dreaming, half awake.
But will he remember in the morning~~~? (>0<)
no subject
Re: Mod here
I swear that i do tag my posts...?!?!?!
Maybe im doing it wrong, what do you write in your tags? I go to that little tag box at the bottom of the post thing, then write something like 'fic, Alfred/Arthur, Hetalia Axis Powers, US/UK'
stuff like that..
DX
Re: Mod here
To see a list of the community tags, please go to the Tag List. (http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/tag/)