Hetalia Stuff

Stitches (USUK Songfic)

I thought that I've been hurt before

Alfred stared at the blood splattered wall in plain disbelief. He couldn't have killed him.

But no one's ever left me quite this sore

Oliver giggled, licking the the blood, Arthur's blood, off the knife. Alfred remained paralyzed with shock.

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Oliver crept towards Alfred, then traced his cheek with the knife, creating a long, shallow cut, as he whispered raspily in his ear: "He's dead. And guess who's fault is that, hero?"

Now I need someone to breath me back to life

Anytime Alfred was in a situation such as this, it was Arthur who helped him. That could never happen again.

Got a feeling that I'm going under

Oliver stood in front of Alfred, grinning. Alfred looked into his unnaturally bright green eyes. They reminded him so much of Arthur. If he ignored the maniacal grin, blood, and bright colors, Oliver was basically Arthur.

But I know that I'll make it out alive

It was probably a sick way to think, but in this traumatic moment, Alfred couldn't care less.

If I keep calling you my lover, move on

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Oliver knelt to Alfred's level with a smirk. "Ooh, do I remind you of Arthur? Isn't it fascinating how the mind reacts?"

You watched me bleed until I can't breath

Oliver laughed and stabbed his knife into Alfred's collarbone, both joints. He frowned momentarily, sticking the knife further in and twisting. Alfred screamed all the air out of his lungs.

Shaking, falling onto my knees

Alfred panted as Oliver moved away once more, examining his work. Alfred stubbornly tried to stand, his legs shaking as he fell back down to his knees.

And now that I'm without your kisses

Oliver pecked him on the lips, the kiss tasting like blood. "That one was from Arthur." He teased, and left Alfred dumbfounded.

I'll be needing stitches

Alfred's mind was numb. He couldn't put two and two together. A Stockholm Syndrome seemed to take control of him.

Tripping over myself

It was a day later that Alfred shakily stood to his feet and stumbled to the locked door.

Aching, begging you to come out

Alfred banged on the door out of instinct, and Oliver opened it, walking into the room and shutting the door. He slammed Alfred onto a wall, smashing their lips into each other's as he dug his knife into Alfred's ribcage.

And now that I'm without your kisses

Oliver moved the cold knife upwards, cutting skin as he did, towards yesterday's wounds.

I'll be needing stitches

He poked them each once, a silent promise that they would be reopened soon enough.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Arthur opened his eyes, gasping. He saw nothing but black. He was dimly aware of the deep gash on his chest as he looked around. Further away somewhere, a green flame sparked, seemingly drawing him towards it.