We've had fic about Japan apologizing to China, America apologizing to Japan, Germany apologizing to Poland, etc for various horrible things said countries did during WWII...now anon would like to see Russia apologize to Poland.
I'd like Russia to honestly feel remorse about what's he's done and want to try to make things right....but Poland isn't the most receptive and frankly thinks that Russia is either trying to manipulate him or that it's all some kind of sick joke...basically thinking that Russia's apology is entirely insincere. So Russia keeps trying to get through to Poland in his own awkward way while Poland just gets more and more angry until he finally snaps and yells at Russia for everything he's done, really dredging up the past and how much Poland has suffered...which makes Russia feel so terrible and guilty that he starts crying, which finally convinced Poland that he IS serious and feels horrible about what he did.
Bonus: Poland either forgives him at the end or at least is moving in the direction that he could one day come to forgive him.
Meeting [1/?]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 01:01:55 UTC
Feliks couldn't say he had been totally shocked when the large, overbearing Ivan had appeared on his doorstep one afternoon, smiling brightly and holding a bottle of Russia's finest vodka in his hands.
He had been calling the days prior, trying to setting up meeting times and places so that they could finally speak, one on one, but the blond had been so irritated by the ringing phone, that he simply unhooked it. He had gotten letters as well; however, their end had been met by fire, he hadn't even bothered opening what he assumed to be another war declaration or some vague, annoying threat that he didn't want to deal with.
Now, with the male at the door, he found himself at a loss, unsure of how to go about the situation. As soon as he had knocked, Feliks found himself locking the door, and shutting the blinds right in front of his smiling face, trying to give off the hint that he wasn't wanted to just go away. More than anything, he hated being harassed. He had things to do, important Polish things that didn't involve his neighbor.
"Polska." He male started cheerfully enough, his voice naturally quiet, but loud enough to disrupt the comfortable silence the blond had in his living room.
Without missing a beat, he responded in an annoyed tone. "Like, I don't want to hear it. Just go, seriously, you're totally ruining my day."
"Let me in, da? I just want to talk."
"Like, go away. I have a hair appointment in an hour."
"I brought vodka, yes? Just for you."
"Like, don't give a shit."
There was a pause at the other end of the door and for the briefest minute, Feliks wondered if Ivan had finally taken the hint and wandered back to the snowy shit hole he called a country. This thought disbanded when an irritating knock came at the door.
"Feliks, for a minute. It won't take much time." He ignored the words and the knocking continued.
Re: Meeting [2/?]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 01:05:35 UTC
The noise so irritating that the blond finally unlatched and swung open the door, green eyes blazing furiously towards the smiling man in front of him, whose hand was still up to repeat what he had been doing for the past five minutes.
"Seriously, like, you can be so annoying. Drop off the vodka, say what you want to and totally leave."
He couldn't help but note the way the Russian walked in, sliding beside him instead of pushing him out of the way. It was weird and it gave him an anxious feeling. He wasn't afraid of Ivan. Not in the slightest. It was just the way he carried himself, like he owned the damn world and he knew it. He didn't have to beat him up, because he knew it wouldn't matter.
"Very clean, da? Nice house."
The Polish man stayed silent, being sure to keep his eyes on Russia at all cost in case he tried to start a Molotov cocktail on his couch.
"Sit by me." He said, face still twisted in the cheery smile that he had grown to hate.
The same smile he had burning down his cities.
Killing his people. Shooting them down with precision. Beating him until there was no choice other than surrender.
The same smile he had while his boss 'apologized' for the Katyn Massacre.
Fists clenching at the memories, he said nothing. He didn't move, simply stood in place, body tensed and ready to attack if it was required. Ivan didn't look confused at his reluctance, simply setting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of him, sliding it to the side. Violet eyes glanced at the emerald hues in front of him.
"We should start over, da?"
That caught his attention, but not in a good way.
"Get out."
"Let's be friends."
"GET. OUT. "
"I'm apologizing to you."
"Don't, like, make me laugh."
Ivan's face turned serious then, smile faltering and lips falling into a thin line.
Russia was always good at pretending, but Poland knew better.
Re: Meeting [3/?]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 01:11:02 UTC
"Have some vodka. It's good. I know how you like it, da?" The previously ignored gift was brought back around, the large fingers popping the top with the speed of an addict needing a fix. Feliks was not amused by the offering. He would much prefer his own delicious alcohol than to drink that Russian poison.
Which wasn't such a far out thought, Feliks mused that it must be tainted in some way for Ivan to share it with him.
"Some cups?"
The blond didn't answer, staring at the vodka as though it would burst at any second with a makeshift bomb.
"Unless you want to share the bottle...”
Eye twitching in annoyance, he turned on his heel and walked to his kitchen. He didn't want to share. He wanted this meeting to be over and done with so he could go back to his afternoon. Pulling two cups, one dirty and one clean, he brought them back to the table, sliding the cup with tea stained lip prints towards the Russian.
"Like, hope you don't mind." Feliks sneered, holding the clean porcelain in his own hand.
To his chagrin, Ivan didn't seem to mind at all. A smile appeared on his face at the offered cup and he poured a generous amount into the little Polish man’s own before filling his only halfway.
"The gift was intended for you, da, not me." He commented before Feliks could retort something nasty. All he could expect from him was harsh words and cold retorts; because he knew he deserved them. The atrocities during World War II and the many other, innumerable times he had betrayed the boy's trust, made the treatment well-deserved in his mind. He had gone about the wrong way to make them all see they had to be One with him.
The same mistake would not be made twice. He had never intended to put the little Pole through the torture he had once gone through himself, to feel the same despair he felt, but wanted to protect him, them all. Make them all one family. It was just easier to help, when they were all in the same house.
Russia would protect them all.
Even if it took some time to get them to see it his way.
Even now, his violet hues watched the deliberate, fake sips Feliks would take, as though he wouldn't notice.
Ivan always noticed.
Smiling, he coughed under his breath to gain the little one's attention before taking a sip of the drink, gulping deliberately as the liquid passed down his throat.
It is safe. He seemed to say with that statement, leaving the Pole more than confident he could drown out his sudden worries about the situation in the alcohol that didn't taste too bad after all, as it burned down his throat.
Within seconds, the entirety of his cup was gone and he didn't even care anymore that the Ivan was getting closer, tugging his arm in a gentle way that he was unaccustomed too. He was brought down to the couch, cushions sagging between the two of them in such a way that the blond nearly lost his bearings.
"Like, you can, ya know, go now. I don't need you to get totally plastered."
Re: Meeting [4/end]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 01:13:30 UTC
Now he couldn't see Ivan's face, unless he looked into the bottle itself to see the distorted reflection. It didn't suit the Russian. Making his smiling face look deranged and his eyes spaced so far apart, that he took the look of a mad scientist.
Feliks laughed.
Ivan chuckled, unsure of what brought him into higher spirits, but thankful regardless.
It was at that moment, the same moment where he removed the bottle, topping off the blond's drink with another cup full of vodka, that he spoke out.
"I'm sorry."
The body beside him stiffened, turning his head only slightly to glance up at the violet eyes that met him with such intent--a gentle intent he could not place.
It had to be fake.
"Don't, like, even start Ivan."
"I'm sorry, Polska"
The pale, thin fingers slammed down onto the table, jarring the stilled liquid and causing both the cups to shift and tip over, staining the wooden table.
"Like, you're sorry?" The words came out hoarse, whispered with such vehemence that even Ivan felt taken aback by the sudden change in tone from someone who had just been previously laughing.
"You're sorry!" Now the boy was laughing, eyes shimmering with amused tears and his fingers curling on top of the damp table. "YOU BASTARD! Nienawidzę cię! I HATE YOU."
The smile on his face ceased; he knew how it irritated the younger nation.
Emerald eyes turned back to him with a piercing gaze, angry and hurt.
"You're SORRY? For what?! Like, totally burning down my cities? Killing my people? Taking Liet away from me?!" He didn't move from his position, whether it be the daze of the alcohol or pure fury alone. "You're sorry for totally messing with me?! Annexing me?! Leaving me with those German bastards?! THE KATYN MASSACRE." His voice was strong and angry, as though he were talking the country in its entirety and not just he one person in front of him.
"For all those people you killed, like, right in front me! You're sorry now? NOW? Like, don't make you laugh you bastard. I totally know you better than that.."
As he was going to storm off, he felt an iron grip on his wrist. Swinging back around, he was already going to smash a fist in his face, when he noted something strange in the Russian's eyes.
Down his cheeks and...
to the coat he wore.
Crying. Ivan was crying.
Feliks followed suit, eyes stinging with the salty tears.
"L-Like..why are you the one crying..you bastard."
He never got a response, just quiet whispers of 'I'm sorry' buried in his hair as he was pulled forward, tightly pressed into the warm overcoat.
The kisses to the top of his head were a good start.
The soft kisses that trailed down his face, over to his tear stains cheeks helped it along.
"I'll protect you, Polska. I'm sorry, da. I won't let anyone ever hurt you like that. Forgive me."
Even as the large hands trailed over his back, rubbing the area in such a soothing way he was almost sure it was Liet in a very large Halloween costume, he still wasn't sure if he could forgive him.
The hugs were a good start though.
---------------------------- Hope OP liked this. Nienawidzę cię- I hate you.
Dammit, I have a paper to write tonight but you just FRIED MY BRAIN. And I love you for it.
Seriously, this is exactly what I wanted. I just...hurt for Poland so much, and I love how obvious it was that Russia is not used to doing this sort of thing and...the end made me feel so happy and hopeful for them.
Oh, Russia. Russia, Russia, Russia. We need more of Russia like this. Russia with depths, with better intentions, with the capacity to feel remorse. I think it still makes me a bad American, but I refuse to believe Russia doesn't have that capacity. And SPOT ON with Feliks's reaction, I can see him losing his shit pretty quickly in this situation, and with good reason.
This is wonderful. I hope you'll join your fellow talented anons and continue to write, because your talent is simply too much to be wasted.
Re: Meeting [4/end]
anonymous
October 2 2009, 13:51:38 UTC
Guilty!Russian!Anon feels almost a kind of catharsis through this. Russia's never portrayed like this, and it makes me feel so sad and alone that I don't see things that way, and in real life and fiction want hugs and apologies and nice things. This really touched me. Thank you for writing it.
I'd like Russia to honestly feel remorse about what's he's done and want to try to make things right....but Poland isn't the most receptive and frankly thinks that Russia is either trying to manipulate him or that it's all some kind of sick joke...basically thinking that Russia's apology is entirely insincere. So Russia keeps trying to get through to Poland in his own awkward way while Poland just gets more and more angry until he finally snaps and yells at Russia for everything he's done, really dredging up the past and how much Poland has suffered...which makes Russia feel so terrible and guilty that he starts crying, which finally convinced Poland that he IS serious and feels horrible about what he did.
Bonus: Poland either forgives him at the end or at least is moving in the direction that he could one day come to forgive him.
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He had been calling the days prior, trying to setting up meeting times and places so that they could finally speak, one on one, but the blond had been so irritated by the ringing phone, that he simply unhooked it. He had gotten letters as well; however, their end had been met by fire, he hadn't even bothered opening what he assumed to be another war declaration or some vague, annoying threat that he didn't want to deal with.
Now, with the male at the door, he found himself at a loss, unsure of how to go about the situation. As soon as he had knocked, Feliks found himself locking the door, and shutting the blinds right in front of his smiling face, trying to give off the hint that he wasn't wanted to just go away. More than anything, he hated being harassed. He had things to do, important Polish things that didn't involve his neighbor.
"Polska." He male started cheerfully enough, his voice naturally quiet, but loud enough to disrupt the comfortable silence the blond had in his living room.
Without missing a beat, he responded in an annoyed tone. "Like, I don't want to hear it. Just go, seriously, you're totally ruining my day."
"Let me in, da? I just want to talk."
"Like, go away. I have a hair appointment in an hour."
"I brought vodka, yes? Just for you."
"Like, don't give a shit."
There was a pause at the other end of the door and for the briefest minute, Feliks wondered if Ivan had finally taken the hint and wandered back to the snowy shit hole he called a country. This thought disbanded when an irritating knock came at the door.
"Feliks, for a minute. It won't take much time." He ignored the words and the knocking continued.
And continued.
LOUDLY.
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"Seriously, like, you can be so annoying. Drop off the vodka, say what you want to and totally leave."
He couldn't help but note the way the Russian walked in, sliding beside him instead of pushing him out of the way. It was weird and it gave him an anxious feeling. He wasn't afraid of Ivan. Not in the slightest. It was just the way he carried himself, like he owned the damn world and he knew it. He didn't have to beat him up, because he knew it wouldn't matter.
"Very clean, da? Nice house."
The Polish man stayed silent, being sure to keep his eyes on Russia at all cost in case he tried to start a Molotov cocktail on his couch.
"Sit by me." He said, face still twisted in the cheery smile that he had grown to hate.
The same smile he had burning down his cities.
Killing his people. Shooting them down with precision. Beating him until there was no choice other than surrender.
The same smile he had while his boss 'apologized' for the Katyn Massacre.
Fists clenching at the memories, he said nothing. He didn't move, simply stood in place, body tensed and ready to attack if it was required. Ivan didn't look confused at his reluctance, simply setting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of him, sliding it to the side. Violet eyes glanced at the emerald hues in front of him.
"We should start over, da?"
That caught his attention, but not in a good way.
"Get out."
"Let's be friends."
"GET. OUT. "
"I'm apologizing to you."
"Don't, like, make me laugh."
Ivan's face turned serious then, smile faltering and lips falling into a thin line.
Russia was always good at pretending, but Poland knew better.
He wouldn't be taken advantage of.
Reply
Which wasn't such a far out thought, Feliks mused that it must be tainted in some way for Ivan to share it with him.
"Some cups?"
The blond didn't answer, staring at the vodka as though it would burst at any second with a makeshift bomb.
"Unless you want to share the bottle...”
Eye twitching in annoyance, he turned on his heel and walked to his kitchen. He didn't want to share. He wanted this meeting to be over and done with so he could go back to his afternoon. Pulling two cups, one dirty and one clean, he brought them back to the table, sliding the cup with tea stained lip prints towards the Russian.
"Like, hope you don't mind." Feliks sneered, holding the clean porcelain in his own hand.
To his chagrin, Ivan didn't seem to mind at all. A smile appeared on his face at the offered cup and he poured a generous amount into the little Polish man’s own before filling his only halfway.
"The gift was intended for you, da, not me." He commented before Feliks could retort something nasty. All he could expect from him was harsh words and cold retorts; because he knew he deserved them. The atrocities during World War II and the many other, innumerable times he had betrayed the boy's trust, made the treatment well-deserved in his mind. He had gone about the wrong way to make them all see they had to be One with him.
The same mistake would not be made twice. He had never intended to put the little Pole through the torture he had once gone through himself, to feel the same despair he felt, but wanted to protect him, them all. Make them all one family. It was just easier to help, when they were all in the same house.
Russia would protect them all.
Even if it took some time to get them to see it his way.
Even now, his violet hues watched the deliberate, fake sips Feliks would take, as though he wouldn't notice.
Ivan always noticed.
Smiling, he coughed under his breath to gain the little one's attention before taking a sip of the drink, gulping deliberately as the liquid passed down his throat.
It is safe. He seemed to say with that statement, leaving the Pole more than confident he could drown out his sudden worries about the situation in the alcohol that didn't taste too bad after all, as it burned down his throat.
Within seconds, the entirety of his cup was gone and he didn't even care anymore that the Ivan was getting closer, tugging his arm in a gentle way that he was unaccustomed too. He was brought down to the couch, cushions sagging between the two of them in such a way that the blond nearly lost his bearings.
"Like, you can, ya know, go now. I don't need you to get totally plastered."
Reply
Feliks laughed.
Ivan chuckled, unsure of what brought him into higher spirits, but thankful regardless.
It was at that moment, the same moment where he removed the bottle, topping off the blond's drink with another cup full of vodka, that he spoke out.
"I'm sorry."
The body beside him stiffened, turning his head only slightly to glance up at the violet eyes that met him with such intent--a gentle intent he could not place.
It had to be fake.
"Don't, like, even start Ivan."
"I'm sorry, Polska"
The pale, thin fingers slammed down onto the table, jarring the stilled liquid and causing both the cups to shift and tip over, staining the wooden table.
"Like, you're sorry?" The words came out hoarse, whispered with such vehemence that even Ivan felt taken aback by the sudden change in tone from someone who had just been previously laughing.
"You're sorry!" Now the boy was laughing, eyes shimmering with amused tears and his fingers curling on top of the damp table. "YOU BASTARD! Nienawidzę cię! I HATE YOU."
The smile on his face ceased; he knew how it irritated the younger nation.
Emerald eyes turned back to him with a piercing gaze, angry and hurt.
"You're SORRY? For what?! Like, totally burning down my cities? Killing my people? Taking Liet away from me?!" He didn't move from his position, whether it be the daze of the alcohol or pure fury alone. "You're sorry for totally messing with me?! Annexing me?! Leaving me with those German bastards?! THE KATYN MASSACRE." His voice was strong and angry, as though he were talking the country in its entirety and not just he one person in front of him.
"For all those people you killed, like, right in front me! You're sorry now? NOW? Like, don't make you laugh you bastard. I totally know you better than that.."
As he was going to storm off, he felt an iron grip on his wrist. Swinging back around, he was already going to smash a fist in his face, when he noted something strange in the Russian's eyes.
Down his cheeks and...
to the coat he wore.
Crying. Ivan was crying.
Feliks followed suit, eyes stinging with the salty tears.
"L-Like..why are you the one crying..you bastard."
He never got a response, just quiet whispers of 'I'm sorry' buried in his hair as he was pulled forward, tightly pressed into the warm overcoat.
The kisses to the top of his head were a good start.
The soft kisses that trailed down his face, over to his tear stains cheeks helped it along.
"I'll protect you, Polska. I'm sorry, da. I won't let anyone ever hurt you like that. Forgive me."
Even as the large hands trailed over his back, rubbing the area in such a soothing way he was almost sure it was Liet in a very large Halloween costume, he still wasn't sure if he could forgive him.
The hugs were a good start though.
----------------------------
Hope OP liked this.
Nienawidzę cię- I hate you.
Reply
That was so sweet. I just want to give them both huge hugs.
It is your duty as a talented citizen of internet to write moar!
(And I love the different way you brought up 'being one with Russia.' Don't see it in a nice light that often. <3)
Reply
Seriously, this is exactly what I wanted. I just...hurt for Poland so much, and I love how obvious it was that Russia is not used to doing this sort of thing and...the end made me feel so happy and hopeful for them.
NOW GO DO THIS IRL, RUSSIA. D:
Bravo, anon. Have my babies. :D
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Oh, Russia. Russia, Russia, Russia. We need more of Russia like this. Russia with depths, with better intentions, with the capacity to feel remorse. I think it still makes me a bad American, but I refuse to believe Russia doesn't have that capacity. And SPOT ON with Feliks's reaction, I can see him losing his shit pretty quickly in this situation, and with good reason.
This is wonderful. I hope you'll join your fellow talented anons and continue to write, because your talent is simply too much to be wasted.
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