As America woke with a violent lurch while his hand darted to his side, a groan from deep within his throat fell out from both the shock and the pain. His fingers glistened in the sliver of light that fell into the room and America gasped as he moved, his side erupting with pain. He twisted away from where Russia still slept silently to get up and see what was wrong with his side. It felt as if he had been stabbed, but he couldn’t be sure. It had happened too fast for him to see…and just who the fuck had that been behind him?
Staggering to the bathroom, America’s bloodied fingers switched on the light and he paused at the sink to look into the mirror. Pain once again flared as he turned to look at the wound, staring at the gash near his pelvis. It wasn’t too deep, but the amount of blood dripping down his side wasn’t a good sign either. “Motherfucker,” he said to the empty bathroom. The lights seemed too bright, and the blood glistened garishly against his pale skin. Rivulets of blood were already gliding down his calf, racing to his ankle while he grabbed a washcloth and pressed it tightly to his side.
The hotel was going to kill him for the bloodstains, but America just couldn’t summon up even an ounce of care. Instead, as he alternated between holding the towel tightly and peeling it away to look at the gash, his mind obsessing over what had happened. He had been standing in the corridor and then he had been attacked from behind. America had been expecting something malicious to happen to him, after all the dreams had been almost mocking him, but he hadn’t expected to just suddenly be stabbed.
And Russia wasn’t awake either. It was as if he had been ejected from the dream. America once again darted a glance down to the wound and hissed quietly out of frustration. He took two more towels and sat down in the tub the room had to offer. The white fabric was greedily soaking up his blood, staining first a soft pink until it swelled and became a deep red. The lines on his palm were etched with the dark liquid, leaving behind smeared burgundy fingerprints along the tub’s edge. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling while steadily holding pressure on his side. America huffed, a muted form of a pained laugh, and turned his blue eyes to count the tiles along the bathroom floor. Everything smelled metallic.
He felt worn and tired, though it was probably due to slogging through all of the caustic dreams. Even the vividness of the dreams had left him with an ill taste in his mouth. Maybe it was the blood loss at this point though. Blue eyes fluttered shut and America simply focused on the air that filled his lungs, humming quietly in relief against the harsh white bathroom lights.
The door swept open and America glanced up to see Russia standing in the doorway looking frazzled. Guilt immediately gnawed in the pit of his stomach. It had to have been a jolt to wake up without America and only a stain of blood. Russia was wearing underwear whereas America was still naked and lying in the tub. “Hey,” America said and gave an awkward grin.
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Here and Now 25
(Anonymous) 2011-06-30 02:12 am (UTC)(link)As America woke with a violent lurch while his hand darted to his side, a groan from deep within his throat fell out from both the shock and the pain. His fingers glistened in the sliver of light that fell into the room and America gasped as he moved, his side erupting with pain. He twisted away from where Russia still slept silently to get up and see what was wrong with his side. It felt as if he had been stabbed, but he couldn’t be sure. It had happened too fast for him to see…and just who the fuck had that been behind him?
Staggering to the bathroom, America’s bloodied fingers switched on the light and he paused at the sink to look into the mirror. Pain once again flared as he turned to look at the wound, staring at the gash near his pelvis. It wasn’t too deep, but the amount of blood dripping down his side wasn’t a good sign either. “Motherfucker,” he said to the empty bathroom. The lights seemed too bright, and the blood glistened garishly against his pale skin. Rivulets of blood were already gliding down his calf, racing to his ankle while he grabbed a washcloth and pressed it tightly to his side.
The hotel was going to kill him for the bloodstains, but America just couldn’t summon up even an ounce of care. Instead, as he alternated between holding the towel tightly and peeling it away to look at the gash, his mind obsessing over what had happened. He had been standing in the corridor and then he had been attacked from behind. America had been expecting something malicious to happen to him, after all the dreams had been almost mocking him, but he hadn’t expected to just suddenly be stabbed.
And Russia wasn’t awake either. It was as if he had been ejected from the dream. America once again darted a glance down to the wound and hissed quietly out of frustration. He took two more towels and sat down in the tub the room had to offer. The white fabric was greedily soaking up his blood, staining first a soft pink until it swelled and became a deep red. The lines on his palm were etched with the dark liquid, leaving behind smeared burgundy fingerprints along the tub’s edge. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling while steadily holding pressure on his side. America huffed, a muted form of a pained laugh, and turned his blue eyes to count the tiles along the bathroom floor. Everything smelled metallic.
He felt worn and tired, though it was probably due to slogging through all of the caustic dreams. Even the vividness of the dreams had left him with an ill taste in his mouth. Maybe it was the blood loss at this point though. Blue eyes fluttered shut and America simply focused on the air that filled his lungs, humming quietly in relief against the harsh white bathroom lights.
The door swept open and America glanced up to see Russia standing in the doorway looking frazzled. Guilt immediately gnawed in the pit of his stomach. It had to have been a jolt to wake up without America and only a stain of blood. Russia was wearing underwear whereas America was still naked and lying in the tub. “Hey,” America said and gave an awkward grin.