Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Characters: Prussia, Austria
Pairing: One-sided Prussia/Austria
Genre: Angst, Romance
Warnings: Boy/Boy, Implied Yaoi
Summary: Austria finds Prussia to be shameful. Prussia finds Austria to be beautiful.
Did you know that I watch you every night you sleep beside me, Roderich Edelstein?
Which, as you very well know, has been more than one occasion.
It sounds creepy, doesn't it? But I do. I watch you. I could stare at you for hours.
You don't notice; you're too deep in sleep to care. I used to think maybe you knew I watched you, like it was some deep connection between us. It was a nice thought. It was nice to think that maybe, just maybe, you know I love you enough to look at you like that.
But as far as you're concerned, I'm a sex-driven war monger with no hobbies other than drinking and sleeping around. There's no way I'm capable of affection, self sacrifice. Not in your eyes. I'm only capable of taking, never giving.
And yet, I've always found it ironic that you hold yourself to such high standards in "properness" when you are so willing to let someone as vile and disgusting as myself kiss and please you. You certainly aren't complaining about my character as I make you whimper and beg beneath your sheets. You call my name sweetly, but it is merely a lust-filled cry. Then you have the gall (being your ever-proper self) to deny that anything has ever happened and to suggest I should "kindly remove myself" from your sight. But I never leave. Eventually, you turn on your side and huff, never speaking to me again for the rest of the night.
And then you fall asleep.
And I have the pleasure of watching you dream.
I prop my head up on one arm and peer over your bare shoulder. Your face is more relaxed when you sleep, Roddy. Did you know that? You probably didn't. Maybe Elizaveta knows. Or Vash. Perhaps even my own little brother knows what your face looks like when you dream. But trust me when I say this: I know it better than anyone.
Sometimes, you look sad. Remorseful. I wonder if you're thinking about how ashamed you are of me. I'm your dirty secret, the lover nobody is supposed to know about. Everyone does, I'm sorry to tell you. It's pretty hard to hide. Nevertheless, you don't want to be associated with barbaric filth such as myself. So you fool yourself.
Other times, you look so comfortable and content I want to reach out and touch you to make sure the image is real. I often do. I trace a finger from your cheekbone to your jaw with a gentleness you don't think I possess. Your skin is soft. Then I run a hand through your hair, ever so careful not to make you stir. I stop myself before my hands roam to other places they want to caress. Your neck, your chest, your shoulders-everywhere. I just want to feel everything. I want all your delicious pale skin and that relaxed expression to be mine.
If you actually heard what I think about while you dream, maybe you'd understand. Maybe you wouldn't hate me. Maybe you would finally realize why I want to touch you so goddamned badly. It isn't solely for lust. I want to touch you because I want to be closer than anybody else. I want to hear your voice asking me to touch you.
My eyes wander back to your face. If somebody asked me to paint that face, I could do it with my eyes closed. I could sketch every fine detail. You're so fucking beautiful, Roderich. Did you know that? Such a delicate, pretty little priss. Even when you frown.
But especially when you smile.
...I really love your smile.
I don't see it very often. The only time I catch a glimpse is when some nice thought passes over you when you sleep. Then, your lips twitch in a calm smile.
Then, it's just gone.
And although I'd like to stick around and see if I can see another one of your smiles, I have to always make sure to leave before you wake. I don't want to upset you more than I already do. I know my mere presence does that to you.
So I kiss one of your soft, soft cheeks and carefully slip away. You might shift a bit in response, but you never wake. I make sure the blankets are pulled around you and I take my leave. Our time together is done. But the cycle will repeat itself before we know it, and we'll be back in that bed of yours once again. I know this. It gives me a strange comfort.
I walk to your door with an ache in my chest that my body is not accustomed to. I know the cause. Did you know that I love you, Roderich Edelstein?
Yes, however boring and manipulative you are, I love you.
I'd like for every last bit of you to be mine. But in a strange way, you already are. But only when you aren't aware of my presence, of the adoration I bestow upon you.
You are mine, but only while you dream.