Scream quieter, wont you? [SovInd - USSR x INDIA]

Part 2: Blackout

India groaned, opening their eyes, before quickly screwing them shut when light shone into their eyes. India's throat was parched, and their head hurt. It was as if someone was crushing their skull.

India gingerly opened their eyes, trying to figure out where they were. Last India remembered, they were in the kitchen before a terrible pain shot through their body. Then it all went black.

India moved around. They were bundled up in something fuzzy, and they were lying in something soft.

India moved their left arm behind their back to push themself up, then moved their right arm to do the same. It was difficult. India's right arm felt numb and heavy. India couldn't control any of the fingers and could only move the upper part of their arm. As soon as India pushed themself up with their right hand, they fell back down onto the bed, gasping in pain as they clutched their right hand.

India blinked the light out of their eyes and got a proper look at their arm. It was wrapped in bandages, tightly secured around their hand and wrist. With difficulty, India pushed themself back up using only their left hand. India was only halfway up, but was already gasping from overexertion, when they were gently pushed back into the covers.

India tilted their head up, squinting against the light, and looked up at the person who pushed them down.

It was Soviet, looking down apologetically at India.

"You transformed and lost control of your mind." Soviet said, taking a seat on the bed beside India.

"I really didn't want to transform, so I took the risk and took the pill. I guess it wasn't worth it." India said, their voice hoarse from dehydration. India accepted the glass of water Soviet handed them and started drinking.

Soviet put one hand on India's head, slowly running his hands through their hair, ruffling the Bengal Tiger ears now on India's head, making India flinch from surprise.

"How did my arm break? Did I hit it against something? Also, did I destroy anything when I was transforming?"

"You destroyed quite a few lamps, vases, and a picture of my father. Your arm.. I broke it. When you were transforming, I tried to pull you to a safer room, but you wouldn't budge. I lost control of my emotions, and, well, I accidentally broke your arm." Soviet said, sighing heavily.

"It- It's alright." India said, with a strained smile on their lips. Every time Soviet shuffled closer or moved the hand he had on their head, India's body tensed.

After a few minutes of silence, Soviet got up, pulling India up and putting them in a sitting position.

"We better get you to WHO. I have some medical knowledge, but not enough to properly help you. I did the best I could with those bandages. And you also transformed; we better get you checked out for that too," Soviet said. Transforming could also harm a nation's health, and it was mandatory that when they transformed, whether forced or not, they go to WHO for their own wellbeing.

India grumbled something about being fine, but started getting up. Soviet wrapped his arm around India's waist and assisted them in standing. He bent down to India's level and put one of their arms over his shoulders.

"We should probably get you changed into something... less bloody before we go to WHO." You were only out for a few hours, and I didn't want to change you without permission."

India nodded in appreciation. After all, what if Soviet saw the markings etched onto their body?

Soviet started walking, but it was difficult to walk while bending down.

"You know what, I'm just going to carry you at this point." Soviet pulled India onto his back while India yelped in surprise.

India scrambled to get a better hold on Soviet, but Soviet already had a firm grip on them.

Soviet set India down on a chair and came back with clothes folded neatly in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He set down the clothes on a nearby table and handed India the glass of water. He fished a bottle of pills from his pocket and gave India a pill.

"Eat this; it will make the pain less severe." Soviet said, setting the pill bottle on the table.

India hesitantly put the pill in their mouth, and drank the water, but they did not swallow the pill. When Soviet nodded in satisfaction and turned to pick up the clothes, India quickly read the label on the pill.

Acetaminophen

India internally sighed in relief. It was actually a pain reliever. Since their childhood, India has learned to trust no one, not even those close to them.

India swallowed the pill and looked up.

Soviet had turned around and handed them the clothes in their good hand.

It was a plain white short-sleeve top and black cargo pants. Along with it was one of Soviets fluffy lapel collar overcoats.

"I got clothes that would make it easier for WHO to access your wounds, but so that if any country saw you, you would still be dressed in somewhat formal clothing."

India said nothing as they tumbled into the washroom with the clothing and closed the door.

A few minutes passed, and India still wasn't out.

"Are you okay, Индия? You've been in there for ten minutes already," Soviet called out.

"Yep!" There was the sound of something falling from the bathroom, "Almost done, just a bit hard to get dressed with a broken arm."

Soviet sighed and shifted in his seat. He started humming a song to himself.

India really doesn't trust people, do they? Soviet had noticed they hadn't swallowed the pill, and he had turned in time to see relief flash over India's eyes as they eyed the pill bottle and swallowed.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Soviet got up and walked over. India emerged, their clothes a ruffled jumble, and the overcoat slung over one shoulder. Soviet huffed as he helped India into the overcoat and straightened them out.

Soviet picked up India again, giving them a piggyback to his car. India sighed in relief and dropped their head onto Soviets shoulder. India's legs felt numb and ached at the same time. They had used what little energy they had getting dressed.

India's thoughts were racing as they remembered what Soviet had said.

"I lost control of my emotions, and, well, accidentally broke your arm."

He's a monster.

No, he's just exhausted and mentally drained. He made a mistake.

I think you mean dangerous.

He wouldn't intentionally hurt me.

You don't realize his true intentions, do you? You really are blind. 

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Индия = India

I've had quite some fun writing this! It's interesting to experiment with Psycho!Soviet and Skeptical!India. The characters in this story are an experiment to explore headcanons. 

 I'll be beginning my one-shot book shortly, so if you have any request let me know!

Just so you know, you can also request me to make a mini-story! I prefer making mini-stories over one-shots because they have so much more potential for lore and background.  

~Bah-Bye