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He takes a short glimpse at the pale- skinned man who lies atop of him, as their hands trailed along his hipbone while his wings twitch slightly. Their breath steady— as they brush the lengthy dark brown curl aside the younger nations face with a reassuring touch.
You are Egypt— you're on your own. Your own sole body that was yours & no one else's. Though sometimes it felt as though there were other people who wanted that body besides yourself.
"Hey.Concentrate on me, Egypt".
Britain's voice resurfaced against Egypt's face—trying to instill some kind of reassurance—as if everything is okay, although it never was, & it won't ever be 'okay'. You feel as though you want—hell need to throw up as you hear his words with a grain of salt. The warmness emerging in your mouth as you finally struggle to breathe & give in—for once.
You never understood why he could be so cruel— you always considered it could be at your hands for the reason why he's hostile with you. Although you'd be lying to yourself if you had thought that then. You wryly stare at your hands that dampened in sweat; nothing was yours alone. It seemed. They look at you with a smile, as he slides his index finger beneath the collar of your dress—it gets harder to breathe. You close your eyes once again & try to imagine that he isn't even there. But you can't imagine something that is real.
The blade dug deeper into your stomach as he then slowly moves closer to you, his hands lying on your chest as you can feel him moving them up until your shoulders—squeezing them as he leans in to close the gap in between the both of you with a rough kiss. You were expecting it to happen any moment now—something to take your mind off of that. Something to reassure yourself once again that you won't ever be any bigger than he is; that you are smaller in his presence. You hack & cough out blood, as now your throat is sore to the core.
The rooms nagging cold atmosphere bit at Egypt's nakedness as he then felt a warm pool of blood surround his stomach on the marble floor, his wings turning a damp red as it seeps out of his back onto the edge of the feathers as he feels his pulse constantly thump louder in his neck— it nagged at him from every crevice in his skin folds. If he kept it up— maybe then he'd be awarded with a loving 'father'. Someone he could love without having to feel that dreading feeling against his back & spiraling in his mind. His eyes followed the other man's fingers as he laid them against his cheek, making the other nation once again wince.
"If you keep this up, it will get only harder for you to be alive by the time I finish".You had wished it was over but it never was over to begin with— you quietly thought as you hold your cross necklace—that was tainted with your blood. Tinting the metal a orange-ish tone.
You can't help but try to look anywhere but his damned face, you tremble as his hands once again clamp on your bare arms. You don't question it— you don't need to now your mind constantly tries to tell you. He finally then lies you against the cold wall, your wings relaxing at this gesture. He stares at your opening, you can almost feel the air inside interwine within your organs— although you were wearing a dress that dress seemed no aid. He knew how you looked even from the inside. A sacredness that lied beneath your flesh. Something more to it than you'd like to admit towards the Englishman.
He rummages for any twine and thread he could find—carefully as his hands moves inside the dresser as he slowly pulls out a thread and smiles consolingly. One hand on your hip, he undresses you slowly, his grin widening ever so slightly.
"Stay still,". Britain's voice etched in your head as you tried to stay compact as he was threading your gaping wound apace with hostility. You try and count how many seconds it would take , 1,,2,,3 as you finally count up to a few minutes. Wryly as your teeth are bloodied.
It didn't take time as he finished although the wound was still visible from a rearview—something about it that bothered you. You couldn't tell if it was just the way how it permanently stayed on you or why it was even there. The Englishman appears once again behind the darkness & squeezes your shoulder once again— giving a warm temporary feeling to your aching body.
"Do you feel better?". He asks, tracing his finger along your blouse collar, then tugging one of your wings playfully. You purse your lips as you try and talk—a bitter taste once again emerging in your mouth as you mouth out some words whilst holding your breath. Simply saying 'I hate you' while not having enough strength nor given courage to do it.
For all you know now, is that you are his & he isn't yours.