Here I Am

Chapter 5

After a while, Luther decided he was bored of Italy sitting in that chair. 

Italy was exhausted. Both his shoulders had been stabbed and Luther seemed to enjoy making thin wounds along his torso like art. Terrifying Italy when he asked about it and Luther replied:

"It's like a canvas and this is my paintbrush. So many possibilities, but only so much you can do before the whole canvas is painted and you need to get a new one."

Italy just wanted to curl up into a ball and go to sleep. To let this end. Let it all be a nightmare. He wanted to wake up to Germany holding him, and cry into his chest. Then he'd confront him about his nightmare, and he'd tell him it was okay. It was all a dream, and he'd never betray the trust he had in him. 

No matter how much Italy hoped and prayed; this wasn't a dream. 

Luther cut the ropes bounding Italy on his wrists and ankles, revealing the rope burn on his skin from how much he had struggled. He picked up one wrist, Italy not even moving. "Tsk, tsk. This is what happens when you struggle, dear. Learn from it. Or, don't, I don't really care." He then grabbed Italy by his hair and dragged him out of the chair roughly. When Italy's frame thudded against the ground he yelped, the pain giving him a brief moment of adrenaline he used to reach up his hands and grab at Luther's wrists. "L-Let go..." He pleaded, earning him a kick to the ribs. He didn't completely collapse, though, since Luther still held a fistful of his hair to keep him up. 

"I don't know why you're struggling so much. Even if I did let you go, you'd have no where to go where you're wanted." Luther said, throwing the rest of Italy's frame down to the floor. Italy's head collided with the floor, and the ceiling above him looked fuzzy for a few moments. Then, Luther got down on the ground and straddled Italy's waist. He set his knife aside for a moment, and then grabbed Italy's wrists, pulling them over his head so he still had a free hand. By this time, Italy fuzzy vision started to subside and he gained his bearings. He squirmed, but Luther was stronger than him. Just like his Germany. 

"Stay still, hmm?" Luther grinned, and knelt down to kiss Italy's collarbone. Italy squirmed and tried to first release his wrists from Luther's grip, but his grip only tightened, which caused Italy to squeal. "Just do as you're told for once. Though... I suppose it's more fun this way." Luther moved his lips to kiss Italy's stomach. Italy whimpered, clenching and un-clenching his fists as if it would help his situation with his wrists. 

Then the door in the room opened, drawing both Italy's and Luther's attention towards it. Who walked in was a male who held a strong resemblance to Italy, except his skin was tan and his hair was darker. That, plus the magenta eyes both him and Luther shared. When he glanced at the scene, he smiled. "Well that explains that."

"What?" Luther questioned, refusing to move from his position.

"Nothing," The male replied, and moved towards the chair. He set down a shopping bag and opened it up, taking out some food and showing it to Luther. "You should learn to know your toys limits. Or else you'll keep losing them." He put the food back in the bag, and then set the bag in the chair. Italy's face flushed the color of tomato. Did he just call him a toy?

"But he's a country. No matter what I do, he won't die." Luther said, glancing back at Italy for a moment as if to savor the statement with the matching image.

"I'm not doubting that, but... You know what, just think about it." He walked over to the two and Luther moved slightly so he could see him better. He arched a brow as he examined him. Italy swallowed, the action reminding him of his cracked lips. 

"Quite a piece, huh, Luci?" Luther asked with a wiggle of his brows. The male glared at him, "First off, it's Luciano, to clear that up before the country starts calling me some girl name. Second, he's yours, not mine. But, considering that, then yes. I imagined he'd be shorter, though. And what's with his chest? Seriously, no abs?" 

"Okay, okay. I regret asking." Luther said, moving back into his previous position, looming over the small Italian. Luciano walked to the door as he grew bored of watching Luther have all the fun. "Try to keep it down. I'm gonna watch a movie." He opened the door.

"Don't eat my chips!" Luther called, looking over his shoulders. 

"I will!" Came the reply before the door was shut. 

Italy tried to take advantage of that opportunity. He pulled himself up with all his might, and his head collided with Luther's. Luther yelled in a mix of pain and rage, allowing Italy a opening to slip away. He was half way back into a standing position, his eyes locked on the door, when he felt Luther's hands grasp his waist. He yelped as he was pushed up against the wall, Luther glaring down at him. "Don't. Do. That. Again." He ordered, pronouncing each word slowly. Italy tried to move again, and Luther stepped back, swiping at Italy's feet. Italy lost his balance and fell to the floor, and he barely thought about the pain in his head before pain exploded in his back from a kick. 

He curled up into a fetal position as he was being abused. It didn't help with the pain, and he often let out cries when a certain blow was more painful than the others. Finally, Luther forced Italy to where he was lying on his stomach, and he stepped on his back, applying as much pressure as he dared. Italy screamed as the wounds on his chest had new pressure applied to them. 

"P-Please! Stop!" Italy pleaded. He cried out louder when more pressure was applied, coughing and gasping for his breaths. In a way, he was at least glad that he couldn't see Luther's face this way. The physical resemblance to Germany killed him inside. It reminded him of Luther's words, wondering... Had Germany really not cared? Was their friendship just a lie? Was he just chatting with Japan over cake that Germany secretly liked to make, forgetting why they called themselves the Axis? 

Once the pressure was released, Italy was flipped over and sat up just enough to where his face could be -- once again -- inches from Luther's, being held by his neck instead of his hair this time. The face that held only a few physical differences from Germany, but he could never mistake this cruel man for Germany. "What you just experienced from what you just did, will grow worse, and worse, if you continue to defy me. You will do as I say, rather you like it or not, or pay the price. I know countries can't die, but by god if you test me I'll find the closest they can get with you. Do you understand?" Luther tightened his grip around Italy's neck. Italy's gasped for air, but managed to nod. Then, Luther released him. 

"Good. I was tempted to give you food tonight after what Luci told me, but I've changed my mind." Luther stood up, Italy now curling up slightly and rubbing his neck. "You want food?" He kicked Italy's back, causing it to arch as he cried out in pain. "You've gotta earn it."