Proximity Part VI - male!Belarus X fem!Lithuania

I couldn't sleep that night, but I never dared open my eyes. Not once. I didn't toss or turn either. Instead, I just laid there, holding my breath at uneven intervals before exhaling softly. I listened to Alfred's snores break the otherwise still silence. I saw strange distorting colors beneath my eyelids.

I was hyperaware of Nikolai's bed, glaring at my back as I kept my limbs still. But I didn't hear anything from that direction. Not a scratch, not a shift of movement, not even a discernible breath. I was so tempted to look over to see if he was okay, if he was even there, but I didn't. I just let it eat me up out of fear, out of confusion, out of strange adrenaline. My heart never stopped pounding against my ribcage that night.

But I guess I did finally drift off. Somewhere in the indefinite space between dawn and seven. Maybe sometime between dusk and dawn. I don't know. But it didn't matter, because I felt myself being shaken awake.

"Elena, it's time to get up. It's freaking seven, dude."

Alfred's voice was half-amused, half-annoyed. I squinted against the light of the room, and the American nation came into focus. His sandy blonde hair wet and messy, and his glasses jammed crookedly against his nose. He smelt nice. Like fresh grass.

And then another sound. Was that the sound of my alarm? Yes. Yes it was. I slammed my hand on the snooze button before forcing myself to sit up.

"Your alarm has been going off for about twenty minutes," Alfred remarked with a shrug.

I just stared at him. "Did it ever occur to you that you could turn it off?"

He smiled sheepishly at me. "I didn't want to risk touching the thing. Alarm clocks hate my ass for some reason. I can name a number of bad experiences with them. Plus, I was hoping that you'd wake up."

I frowned, rubbing my eyes. "I usually do."

It's true. I've never slept through an alarm clock. When I lived with Russia, sleeping through an alarm clock would have consequences. Awful consequences.

So it sort of became a habit of mine to spring up at the sound of the buzzer. Yet, I didn't today. Which is strange because I could've sworn that I wasn't able to sleep at all through the night. I may have drifted in and out, but I didn't really fall asleep…did I? Apparently I did.

"Well, you should start getting ready. We should grab something to eat before classes start," Alfred said as he walked over to his bed, slipped off his white T-shirt, and grabbed his uniform top.

My eyes snapped over to Nikolai's bed. It looked untouched. White. Pristine.

My breath hitched. Did he even sleep at all? And where was all the blood?

"Hey Alfred, did you happen to see Nikolai this morning?" I asked, trying to keep my voice nonchalant.

"No," Alfred responded with a bite in his voice. "I woke up and he wasn't there. But I had to call the fucking school service to get his bedspread replaced. There was blood all over it. I don't understand that dude. He's freaking creepy as hell…"

I gulped as my heart beat violently against my chest. So last night was real? It hadn't been a dream? I really did see him broken? Beaten? I really did approach him and offer him that first aid kit? I had the nerve to grab his wrist? He saw my scars? And then he touched my hand…gently…for the first time?

That really happened?

My fingers tingled and a chill went down my spine. "O-Oh…" I stuttered lamely.

"I'm sincerely sorry that you had to deal with him for such a long time. I can't even imagine," Alfred stated as he straightened his tie, and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at me with wide, pitying eyes. The sight made me feel a bit depressed. "And Russia as well…God, Russia freaks me out."

"He's scarier than Ivan."

"Hmmm?"

"Nikolai. Belarus. He's scarier than Ivan," I repeated, not really sure why I was saying this. The thing is, is that I was always terrified of Ivan, despite the fact that it was Nikolai who did his dirty blood smearing work. But that was only on me. For some reason, Ivan never had the heart to hurt ME himself. He sure as hell didn't have a problem with my brothers, or anyone else for the matter.

But despite the fact that my blood has stained Nikolai's hands and face so many times, I could never bring myself to fear him because I found him intriguing, and because I wanted him…for myself.

But now, I see it. Nikolai Braginski is a terrifying man.

Yes, for many of the sensible reasons. Twisted, cruel, cold, ruthless, murderer, torturer, sadistic, sick, obsessive...not to mention the fact that he's threatened me with my life numerous of times.

But I'm also scared of him for entirely different reasons as well. I'm scared of seeing him break. And not in the psychotic way. No. In the emotional way.

I'm afraid to see him cry. I just don't want to see it.

Because it would break all resolve and willpower that I have.

I'm afraid of how much he's affected me in just the first day of seeing him again. He's all I can think about. He and his family are on my mind constantly, always wondering if they're alright, sincerely worried for their well-being, wanting to cry at the thought of their pain.

Don't they fucking deserve it?

"Oh God, this year's gonna suck. I don't want the Commie bastard sticking a knife up my ass or something," Alfred remarked with distaste.

I gave a small laugh. "Trust me. It's not you who should be worried."

I knew that the American was staring at me with scrutinizing eyes, wondering if I was joking or if I was serious. He probably also felt sorry as hell for me.

Well, that's the story isn't it?

Weak, pathetic nation who's been the subject of Marxist-Leninist oppression for years, and who also falls in love with the sadistic, twisted dictator-driven country who brings the knife, and/or pipe, and/or other sharp/heavy objects down on her to penetrate her skin, causing infinite bloodshed.

This bitch has gotta get real, here.

XX

"Elena, please talk to me! I'm like really sorry!" Feliks pleaded.

I ignored him as I ate another spoonful of oatmeal. I didn't even bother to look at him, sitting right next to me. I could already tell by the tone of his voice that his face was crumpling.

And no, I was not going to just forgive him. He scared the living shit out of me! He could've gotten hurt! So hurt! He was lucky that his country wasn't affected by this. And he wouldn't listen to me yesterday, dammit! I pleaded for him to stop. But he just had to keep egging the fight on.

Now, people won't stop talking and ranting about what the hell happened. Almost every nation I've run into sports some sort of bandage, bruise, cut, cast, or all of them. And they all looked at me. Just stared at me. Some whispered as I walked by, some looked at me with distaste…especially nations like Elizaveta and Seychelles.

Seriously, how petty can everyone get? Even as nations, we still act like gossiping mortals. Not only that, but because of the incident, the whole school was to be subjected to a long lecture by the Dean about conduct and control. There were rumors that a school-wide punishment would follow.

Everyone thought that I was the damsel-in-distress, the weakling, the little bitch who cries in the corner. Well, they sort of have a point.

I didn't fight. Can't people just understand that I didn't want to fight? That I was so overwhelmed? So terrified?

I glanced up to see both Eduard and Raivis across from me, silently eating their meals. I saw that they both had a few scratches on their faces, but nothing real noticeable. They were already healing very quickly. What would have happened if Nikolai or Ivan got their hands on them? I shuddered just thinking about the idea.

"Elena! Stop ignoring me! I'm trying to like apologize!" Feliks burst out, his voice starting to edge on anger. I snapped my head in his direction and glared. However, the look on his face made my resolve crumble.

I sighed. "Look Feliks, I'm not really happy with you, right now…"

"Oh Jeez! I couldn't tell! Like seriously! I'm sorry, okay? I just got really pissed…."

"Well, can't you please try and control it? I don't want something else like that to happen! You really scared me! You could've gotten hurt…" I took a deep breath and pointed to my brothers as well. "You two as well…you're all lucky you guys are okay…"

"But we're not! And I promise I won't do it again, okay? It's just…that damn psychotic bastard pisses me off to no end…I'm sorry Elena, but I don't care if you like him. He's bad news."

I clenched my teeth and glared forward. I knew that I shouldn't be angry. I knew that Feliks had a point here, that he had a just reason for not liking Nikolai. Hell, I don't even know why I don't despise him at this point. He tortured me cruelly for years on end, he never hesitated to make my blood pour, he now threatens me, terrifies me, attempted to mortally wound my best friend and my brothers….

I don't know.

I just don't know why I keep trying to justify him.

Maybe it was seeing him covered in HIS own blood for once. Maybe…maybe it's the possibility that I'm not the only one who has to endure that pain.

"You're not the only one who has scars, you know."

His words still played over and over in my head.

"He's my roommate," I clarified in a quiet, yet firm voice. I glared down at my hands, not wanting to take in either Feliks's, nor my brothers' expression. I gritted my teeth, the unbearable silence among us making me even more nauseous than I already felt.

"…Elena…"

It was Raivis. I looked up at him to see that he was staring at me with wide eyes. Wide eyes full of fear.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. There was nothing to say.

"H-Has he hurt you?" Eduard asked. I looked over at him, unable to say a word.

Did he hurt me?

He has before of course, and everyone here knows that.

But has he hurt me since school started?

He's threatened my existence, he's frightened me, he's insulted me…

But he hasn't actually brought down a weapon on me. Yet.

"No," I answered, the word feeling strange against my tongue.

Both Eduard and Raivis seemed to relax slightly, their faces filled with relief. They didn't say another word as they both stared down at their breakfast aimlessly. However, both looked as if they had lost their appetite.

I dared myself to look at Feliks. He was glaring aimlessly ahead, his eyes dark, his fists clenched against the table.

"Feliks…" I started.

"He WILL hurt you, Elena," He spat, venom coating his voice.

His tone made me flinch, flinch like the scared little girl that I was. I felt my eyes sting. I took another shaky breath and tried again, "Look…"

"No. I don't understand you. Don't you understand that you're putting your fucking life at risk here? The very existence of your country by permitting this?"

He turned his body so that he was facing me, his expression burning with a fiery rage.

"Feliks! There's nothing I can d-do about it, okay?" I exclaimed, feeling as if I were getting smaller and smaller with each pathetic word I said.

"Why the hell do you like, keep defending him? You know that a damn scumbag like him doesn't deserve it!" he yelled.

People were starting to turn their heads again. We were attracting attention. Again. I didn't want this. I really didn't want this to be happening again. But I couldn't stop myself from lashing back, straightening my back and glaring.

"He was hurt last night! Really badly! NO ONE DESERVES THAT!" I spat, visions of a blood-soaked Nikolai filling my vision. I shuddered at the memory, wanting nothing more than to just vomit. Or cry. Or die. Or anything.

"NEITHER DO YOU!" He yelled back, the volume of his voice seeming to increase with every word.

I was speechless. I felt like I was choking. The whole cafeteria was dead silent. And in mortification, I realized that everyone had heard our argument. My insides crumbled, but I couldn't tear my eyes from those of the bystanders. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the atmosphere of the cafeteria jerkily turned back to its original nature, as the chat started up once again, and people started to look away.

It didn't help anything, though. I dared myself to look in the direction of the table where they usually sat. Ivan was staring down at his plate, a blank expression on his face, Yekaterina was using her fork to aimlessly move pieces of her food around her plate. Then Nikolai…well…he was looking at me.

I seized up at the sight of his stare; his expression was unreadable. All I could really see were his eyes, which seemed to pierce right through me, seemed to analyze rather than merely glance. Out of instinct, I quickly looked away, anywhere…the table, the ceiling, even at the unappetizing food on my plate. After a few deep breaths, I dared myself to look at Nikolai; he was glaring moodily at the table, his eyes downcast, shadows flickering over his face.

My mouth felt abnormally bitter as I looked over at Felix, who was furiously eating his oatmeal, determinedly avoiding my gaze. Both Eduard and Raivis weren't doing anything to lift the mood either; the table was bathed in a somber silence.

"I've got to go," I said, my voice sounding as pitiful as a whimper.

Before the others could respond, I shot up from the table, grabbed my scarcely eaten plate of food, turned my back, and walked off. I dumped the food into the trashcan on my way out, tossing the plate into the plastic bin.

Goddammit, why does this shit happen to me? Finally…FINALLY…I get my freedom. I am independent after years of oppression, and then this happens. And why can't I just make myself not care anymore? Why can't I just accept the fact that I shouldn't be concerned with anything else but the affairs of my own country?

Why the fuck do I still have this sick desire to be around a country who finds a twisted pleasure in hurting me?

Jeez, I really am some sort of masochist.

I made my way back to the room, ignoring the aching of my limbs as I stomped up the stairs. My eyes were already drooping as I realized how tired I was; I guess I didn't sleep that much. Huh…go figure. At this rate, I knew that I probably wouldn't sleep all school year. Damn, I already wished that I could just go back into peaceful isolation in my own country, enjoying my freedom and my people and the fresh air of liberation.

But no. I'm stuck here; stuffed in a school with a whole bunch of other nations in order to stimulate the general knowledge of our countries.

I shakily pulled out the key and stuck it in the lock, twisting it, and then opening the door to my dorm. I slammed it shut behind me without another thought, and literally collapsed on my bed, breathing heavily. Immediately, my wary mind started to race again.

Fucking Poland. Damn him. I didn't care if he meant well. I didn't care if he was looking out for me. He just…he just didn't understand. He didn't understand anything about how I was feeling, how confused I was. Yes, I will hand it to him…he knows oppression under the Soviet Union. He knows hard core, unadulterated, terror at Ivan's hand.

But he didn't develop feelings for one of the "bad guys." Feelings that I know are sick and twisted and downright ridiculous, but real all the same.

I turned around on the mattress so that I was facing upwards, my eyes trained on the ceiling, making out shapes in the small, subtle cracks that weren't actually there. My mind was assaulted by snapshots of a certain Belarusian. His angry face, his blank face, his sullen face, his twisted-lustful face that he used to wear around his brother, his face covered in my blood, his…his…vulnerable face. That sad, broken face that I only ever saw him wear once or twice.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a frustrated groan as the tears started to spill down my cheeks. There was no way I could do this. I couldn't do this.

This was unhealthy. This was absolutely ridiculous. Hell, if I could go to a place where I would never have to see Nikolai again, I would. Just to rid myself of this insanity.

Before another thought could process in my head, the door burst open with a loud bang. I immediately gave a squeak as I jumped, bolting straight up as my eyes trained on the door way. My stomach flipped as I saw none other than Nikolai standing there, his violet eyes full of swirling flames as he stared straight at me. His knuckles were clenched and white, his jaw was rigid, and the shadows under his eyes intensified with each second.

Shit.

He was pissed.

Downright pissed.

And he was probably going to take it out on me.

I held my breath as I watched him use his foot to furiously kick the door, where it snapped shut with a large, ear-shattering bang.

I didn't dare move. I stayed in my position on the bed, my heart pounding against my chest partly in fear and…excitement? My limbs started to tremble uncontrollably.

His eyes narrowed as he whipped out his knife and pointed it directly at me. "Don't fucking move," he sneered.

I did as instructed, gritting my teeth to prevent myself from trembling to noticeably. My eyes followed his motions as he marched furiously over to his bed; he still had his knife pointed at me.

I did everything in my power to prevent myself from flinching. He could probably hear my heart from across the room.

I watched as he lowered the knife for a moment to rummage through his bag wordlessly, his motions swift and rash as he tossed out item of clothing after clothing. I could tell that he was getting angrier and angrier by the second. I could literally feel the intense mixture of bitter ice and scolding hot flame radiating from every inch of his body. Sickening, yet intoxicating.

Then, with a violent hitch of my breath, I saw that he had pulled out a rather thick piece of rope, which measured to about five feet. His eyes found me again, and I had the immediate instinct to look away or look down to escape the icy flames, but I couldn't. So I just stared on, trembling. I saw him bundle the rope in his hands hastily.

What…the…fuck?

And then, before I could even comprehend anything else, Nikolai was on my bed…no… on me, his legs straddling my waist, and one of his hands wrapped tightly around both of my wrists, pinning them above my head and against the headrest.

No…What…the…I couldn't breathe…properly…. My thoughts were swirling, disconnected, as my heart pounded violently against my chest to the point of pain. My breathing was ragged, coming out at dangerously uneven intervals. I immediately started to squirm under him.

"Stop squirming, you little low-life," he spat, his voice so cold, so biting; my body immediately responded to his command, my limbs going stiff. I prayed that my heart would just shut up, or at least stop beating so profusely.

He was so damn close…so, so close. I wanted so desperately to look straight into his eyes. I wanted to see something there, something that told me that this close of a proximity to me had some effect on him; I knew that it was just wishful thinking. The only thing I would see if I looked into his eyes would be pure, unadulterated disgust.

So instead, I just squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, grinding my teeth together to prevent myself from trembling.

Once I opened my eyes, I dared myself to arch my head slightly to look at him. My breath hitched as I realized what he was doing. With the rope in one of his hands, he skillfully, and harshly tied my wrists to the headrest. I couldn't help it; I squirmed out of a mixture of panic and adrenaline.

What. The. Fuck.

"I said stop squirming," he snapped at me, his eyes fixed on my wrists, one of his hands still pinning them, and the other still them to the bed rest.

I could feel the stinging burn of the rope as it dug harshly into my skin. I twitched my fingers, but he did not acknowledge my apparent discomfort. My breathing picked up once again and my stomach was flipping uncontrollably. I shifted my legs, not able to control the incessant need to squirm out of protest.

Dammit…he was tying me up to the damn bed! I'm not supposed to just pretend that this is completely normal.

Then, with another blink of an eye, I felt the cold blade of a dagger against my throat. I immediately froze, aware of the harsh sting of the rope digging into my skin, and the fact that circulation to my hands were being cut off. I bit my bottom lip and held my breath as I let my eyes travel up to Nikolai's face, which was looking down at me with dark antagonism.

His silvery hair fell into his eyes, casting strange shadows across his face…shadows that seemed to make him more intoxicating than he already was. I was still aware of the fact that he was straddling my waist; despite the fact that he looked so frosted…so cold…I could feel his body heat wash over me, warmth that sent the blood in my veins circulating at a dangerous rate.

Just a bit more pressure, and he would break my skin; I could feel it. My lungs ached from my lack of proper breath, but I kept my eyes on him, every sensory neuron in my body exploding.

I was so vulnerable. So so vulnerable. Here I was, fully exposed, unable to defend myself, my wrists tied to the bed, and Nikolai hovering over me, his blade on the skin of my throat.

"Do. Not. Defend. Me. You understand? I don't need your fucking pity," he snarled. His voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I remained motionless, my eyes staring straight into his face, my cheeks flushed. My hands were now numb, yet the rubbing sting against my wrists remained prominent.

"I said…" he applied more pressure to the dagger, and I let out a small gasp as he broke my skin, just a tiny bit. I knew that beads of blood were making their appearance.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded, biting my bottom lip so hard, that I could the metallic taste of blood seeped onto my tongue.

He remained motionless for a moment, his eyes cold as they pierced mercilessly into mine. I willed myself not to writhe in pain, for he kept the blade of his knife against my skin; was it just me, or was he applying even more pressure on my neck?

Then, in another swift motion, he removed the knife from my neck, placed both his hands on either side of my head, and leaned forward so that his lips were at my ear. I could feel his breath wash over my skin and I had to tell myself not to shudder.

"You are so fucking spineless, it's ridiculous," he said, his voice husky and breathy against my ear.

Holy shit.

My toes curled and I gritted my teeth.

"Such an easy target…." He drawled.

Before my mind could fully comprehend his words, I felt the tips of his fingers creep beneath my shirt, trailing against the skin of my stomach, his fingernails grazing over the thick ridges of the many scars that he, himself, had inflicted.

My mind was in a chaotic frenzy and the room seemed to heat up about a million degrees. The places where he touched my skin tingled and I immediately squirmed, the rope further digging into my wrists as I twitched my palms. I bit my lip once again to prevent myself from moaning.

His fingers stopped right beneath my right breast; I could feel him playing with the wire of my bra.

What the fuck….

"Such a petty little virgin aren't you?" he said, his lips still hot against my ear. I could hear the smirk in his voice.

And I thought that I had felt exposed and vulnerable before…but never…EVER… in all my life, have I ever felt as vulnerable as I did right at that second.

And the twisted, sick fact was that…that… I found some sort of enjoyment out of it all. The heat swirled dangerously around me as my toes curled. The rope seemed to tighten its vicar-like grip on my wrists as my fingers twitched pitifully, yearning for some sort of circulation. The delicious feel of his breath against my ear made my stomach flip and my brain completely melt.

And…it was so wrong. It should be so wrong.

Finally, after another moment, he sat up straight, his face cold, inhabited by the all-too-familiar shadows as he took his knife and slashed swiftly through the ropes on my wrists, freeing them. I immediately let my arms drop as a small breath of relief escaped my lungs. My hands were prickling from the lack of circulation.

Without another word, he got off of me, and stood there at the foot of my bed, motionless, his eyes glazed over and eerily frosty.

"Again…another disturbance from you, you little bitch…" he sneered, before making a slashing motion with his knife, indicating the cruel fate he had planned for me.

I just nodded quickly and pressed my fingers to the cut he had left at my throat, which stung more than I thought it would. I withdrew my hand to see my fingers stained with blood.

Shit. That would leave another scar.

I dared myself to look back over at Nikolai, but I was too late. With a slam of the door, I knew that he had left the room.

There was a deafening silence that followed.

A silence that bore with it so much weight, so many conflicting feelings and emotions that I was left completely out of breath.

Again, so much for getting any sleep this year.