AN : First drabble out of quite a few (or so I hope), all kinda wicked just like this one.

Call me twisted if you want, I actually kinda am. I honestly need to start writing some fluff, it's one of the best things out there.
This was thrown together thanks to the French Hetalia angst generator or however you want to call it. This is a drabble, not beta'd, and I'm not fluent in English [read : mistakes must be everywhere]. I have no idea what category to put this one in. Romance / horror ? Or maybe more angst ? Or 'be careful this author has serious issues' ? (There should totally be a rating like this, by the way)

The sentence was "Norvège laisse baigner dans son sang Hong-Kong and ensuite lèche ses doigts ensanglantés", which, translated, gives us something along the lines of "Norway lets Hong Kong die in his own blood and then licks his bloody fingers".

Story itself :

Warnings : Blood, somewhat violence, Hong Kong being physically abused, Norway being crazy, no historical background (that I am aware of).
Title : Ice red
Characters : Norway and Hong Kong

Rating : T / M

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'Hngh....' was the only sound that would leave his mouth at the moment. His body was sprawled recklessly over a thin blanket of white satin, his arms, legs and body forming an 'X' while his head was wobbling from left, to right, to left, to right, to left – where was he ? He couldn't spot him, yet he knew he was here, just waiting for his victim to pass out. Second after second, minute after minute, he felt like he was growing more and more tired.

Numb.

Cold.

Dead.

"Ha..." he whispered more than whimpered, turning his head once more, stretching his neck to find the one who had forced him into all this. His eyes were fluttering, and he could swear it wasn't anything of the agreeable sort. He couldn't feel his left hand anymore, and tried to move his right one.

Numb.

Frozen.

Broken.

It sent a shiver down his spine – the coldness. He thought he had been used to it ; his country was not that warm.

Country ?

City ?

Colony ?

What was he again ? He could think about it now ; it's not like he didn't have the opportunity to do anything beside being scared and lying down on the fabric that was ineluctably reddening.

Tired.

Icy.

Numb.

Now that he had time to think about it – what had he spent his life doing ? Working. All this economy had been the only thing he always had been doing, and it wasn't even improving as much as he would have liked it to. He was cold, the hot liquid that was slowly flowing out of his body suppressing every sensation he could have had enough strength left to process. He felt even colder. Colder. Colder. Colder. So fucking cold he couldn't stand it, and shivered. That was when a soft laugh could be heard not too far away from him. He tried to have a look behind him, when his movement was stopped by the finger that had suddenly appeared on his forehead, and heard a calm 'Ssh'. The touch lingering on his skin caused something that could as well have been liquid ice to flow through his veins, from this fingertip to his hands to his stomach to his feet, all the way – back and forth – until he had the feeling he couldn't ever possibly be warm again. The finger moved, from his jawline to his neck, to the cuts on his torso and arms, to the gaping wound next to his heart. It rested there for a moment, and then pressed hard. He let out what could be compared to a drowning man's scream, for he had not enough energy left to actually cry out loud.

"So, little Hong Kong... How does it feel ?" he put a second finger onto the large wound, moving both of them around, a wicked smile blooming on his lips. "The cold..."

The Asian couldn't even respond to this ; he was already too numb for anything beside dying. He didn't need to give a response anyway, just tried to glare at the cold nation sitting next to him. Said country squirmed when he lifted his hand up in the air, looking at it as if he had never seen it before. The blood was dripping down his fingers, along his arm and into the white sleeves of his immaculate shirt. His gaze grew blurry, his eyes turned white, his smile faded. With those same fingers, he traced Hong Kong's face, brought his closer, and then backed away. He let his fingers linger just a little while more, and then brought them to his own lips, and licked them. Slowly he tasted the iron, making sure not one single droplet of blood got lost. When he had made sure than his hand was clean, he leaned toward the shorter man once more, resting his head on the other's chest.

"Let it stay, let it be the way it is." he whispered "Like this, between dead and living." he looked up to see the still emotionless face of the other nation, mirror of his own. "Like this, forever." He kissed him. "Be mine, little Hong Kong. Norway loves you." He smiled once more, never showing any sign of sanity – as if any of them was, in this world. "Loves you, loves you."

Cold.

The end is kind of abrupt, huh ? I still like it though.

Next one should be a France/Canada/Germany something.

Review ? :D