Why Don't You Ask? [2a/?]
anonymous
December 28 2009, 10:13:50 UTC
Lithuania feels his throat clog and his chest constrict, so his breath is merely small gasps. It has been so long… Nobody has asked him that for three long years. Not when he didn’t come to meetings for several weeks. Not even when he ran away after Russia announced that he was with Belarus, although that Not-American had glanced up from some commentary he was giving. He didn’t expect anyone to ask about his break up with Russia since no one knew - but maybe no one cared about him. But he’s prepared himself for everything to be normal, but this - the mere question throws him out of alignment.
He doesn’t even know how he’d answer; maybe bluff and say that he was fine, but it seemed like England had been watching him for some time. Maybe tell him everything, simply because the other seemed worried. Was that selfish?
But he can’t accept the concern - he didn’t from America and he would apply the same rules here. Even though a tiny part of his mindset said that the situation was different: he hadn’t been romantically involved with Russia at that point, merely seeing him as a threat. Maybe it would be alright this time…?
Lithuania feels so conflicted: he wants to run away yet at the same time wants to move closer and use this source of comfort - England looks worried, and stretches a hand out to him: it’s too much. He gets up while hurriedly apologising, and runs. He doesn’t stop when Russia and Belarus look at him, obviously eavesdropping, and give him a weird look.
England hesitantly calls out to him but it’s too late, as he is too far away. He speeds through the decadent glass doors of the hotel, not acknowledging the receptionist as she calls him out for running. He focuses on the wind flowing past him, freezing his ears, and pretends Russia is after him, and that he can see Belarus waving to him.
He finds it ironic that he still uses Belarus as a reason and excuse, even though his small crush passed centuries ago, when he realised she only had eyes for Russia. He guessed, in a way, that she became a rival to him for Russia’s affections. She'd won in the end, with all those years spent with Russia adding up to nothing for him.
Minutes later, even though it feels like years, he collapses outside some club's back door. There's broken glass, an awful smell and a murmur of loud music drumming inside - but the main thing is that there's no one here. Not a soul.
Slowly, he lifts his head towards the stars. A select few shimmer, a divine council deciding his fate. Letting out a sigh, he watches as the vapour rises, spreading out eventually into thin air.
Why did he run? The one chance he had to get his life back, to become normal again, and he blew it. England wasn't going to help him now - an offer would never stand from such a high-up, powerful country to one at the furthest reach of Europe, desperately trying to become richer. Why would anyone help him? For all he knew, no one noticed when he left, or came into meetings with red eyes.
A cloud passes over, obscuring the sky, followed by another. The heavens open onto him, thoroughly soaking Lithuania and chilling him to the bone. Supposedly typical English weather.
Some drunken youths pass by, laughing loudly and shouting a number of random things. One winks at him, but he looks away and no more is done. They walk away and he is alone again.
He doesn't remember how long he sits there in the rain, watching it fall and soak everything, before the sound of footsteps interrupts him - they are not slow like the drunken men, rather... frantic and searching. Then he hears a faint shout of 'Liet!', and begins to think the impossible.
Why Don't You Ask? [2b/?]
anonymous
December 28 2009, 10:27:01 UTC
The footsteps are close now, and finally, England turns the corner. He leans over, hands on his knees and breathing hard for a moment. Lithuania notices that he is also soaked, having tried to find him despite the rain.
"Found you! Thank god, it took me forever - n-not that I'm worried, it's just that this is a rough area and... Are you alright? Cold? My house isn't too far... You should stay there tonight." England extends a hand towards Lithuania, and after a moment of hesitation, he takes it. That hands feels so firm and strong, yet gentle. To the Lithuanian, it feels like a lifeline.
To both nations surprise, neither lets go, England leading the way through empty streets. Lithuania feels better for the first time in three years.
Sorry for this being so late! I was really busy and couldn't write, so... I hope you enjoy this anyway! ^ ^
Re: Why Don't You Ask? [2b/?]
anonymous
January 20 2010, 01:54:54 UTC
Wow, why you didn't continue with your story?
At first I was shocked at the fact that the C character was England, I mean in the good way (if it exist). I was expecting someone more typical like Poland or America. But Arthur...
Continue, please. The story seems to will be awsome.
PD: Sorry for my english, it's not my nature lenguage.
Why Don't You Ask? [3/?]
anonymous
February 7 2010, 22:31:40 UTC
Lithuania finds himself comfortable for the first time in ages, and reluctantly opens his eyes to a soft white ceiling, noting how it is lit by the post-dawn light. Uncurling himself from a ball of duvet, he suddenly realises that this is not his ceiling, and looks down. By appearance, he believes that he is in the master bedroom, with a double bed and a wooden dresser, along with other pieces of furniture. He notices some clothes spread out on a chair to the corner of the light blue painted room, but he doesn't remember putting them there himself. He peers at the paintings, looking fondly at one depicting fields of golden corn, before a soft knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. The door slowly opens to reveal England, dressed casually in a plain shirt and trousers, holding a tray with a plate of food and two mugs on it.
"Did you sleep well? I made breakfast for us - well, the maid did. She insisted that I didn't feed you my cooking for some reason... Anyway! I made you a cup of tea too, but I could get some coffee if you wanted..." He is cut off as Lithuania shakes his head, indicating to place the tray on the small bedside table. Doing so, and with Lithuania starting to eat the meal, he sits on the edge of the bed and sips his tea, looking peacefully out the window at the birds.
It takes some time before either of them speaks, until England notices that the other nation has finished his meal, and moves to collect everything back on the tray. When Lithuania makes to help, England stops him, telling him to continue resting. He is left in silence again.
He opens the window, and is greeted by a chorus of sounds; cars passing while birds chirp high up in the trees, and the gentle hush of the wind. There is a frost on the ground, adding a shimmer to the small back garden. From downstairs, he hears a whisper of classical music, and someone moving around in the kitchen. Serene.
Tired, he climbs back into the bed, pulling the sheets right up to his chin, as he had done years ago. As he slowly falls asleep again, Lithuania wishes he could always feel like this. If only.
I'm so so sorry that this is so short late and pathetic. I hope it's alright...?
And feel few to throw rocks because this will be on hiatus until I either finish exams or write a decent chapter. Sorry...
He doesn’t even know how he’d answer; maybe bluff and say that he was fine, but it seemed like England had been watching him for some time. Maybe tell him everything, simply because the other seemed worried. Was that selfish?
But he can’t accept the concern - he didn’t from America and he would apply the same rules here. Even though a tiny part of his mindset said that the situation was different: he hadn’t been romantically involved with Russia at that point, merely seeing him as a threat. Maybe it would be alright this time…?
Lithuania feels so conflicted: he wants to run away yet at the same time wants to move closer and use this source of comfort - England looks worried, and stretches a hand out to him: it’s too much. He gets up while hurriedly apologising, and runs. He doesn’t stop when Russia and Belarus look at him, obviously eavesdropping, and give him a weird look.
England hesitantly calls out to him but it’s too late, as he is too far away. He speeds through the decadent glass doors of the hotel, not acknowledging the receptionist as she calls him out for running. He focuses on the wind flowing past him, freezing his ears, and pretends Russia is after him, and that he can see Belarus waving to him.
He finds it ironic that he still uses Belarus as a reason and excuse, even though his small crush passed centuries ago, when he realised she only had eyes for Russia. He guessed, in a way, that she became a rival to him for Russia’s affections. She'd won in the end, with all those years spent with Russia adding up to nothing for him.
Minutes later, even though it feels like years, he collapses outside some club's back door. There's broken glass, an awful smell and a murmur of loud music drumming inside - but the main thing is that there's no one here. Not a soul.
Slowly, he lifts his head towards the stars. A select few shimmer, a divine council deciding his fate. Letting out a sigh, he watches as the vapour rises, spreading out eventually into thin air.
Why did he run? The one chance he had to get his life back, to become normal again, and he blew it. England wasn't going to help him now - an offer would never stand from such a high-up, powerful country to one at the furthest reach of Europe, desperately trying to become richer. Why would anyone help him? For all he knew, no one noticed when he left, or came into meetings with red eyes.
A cloud passes over, obscuring the sky, followed by another. The heavens open onto him, thoroughly soaking Lithuania and chilling him to the bone. Supposedly typical English weather.
Some drunken youths pass by, laughing loudly and shouting a number of random things. One winks at him, but he looks away and no more is done. They walk away and he is alone again.
He doesn't remember how long he sits there in the rain, watching it fall and soak everything, before the sound of footsteps interrupts him - they are not slow like the drunken men, rather... frantic and searching. Then he hears a faint shout of 'Liet!', and begins to think the impossible.
Reply
"Found you! Thank god, it took me forever - n-not that I'm worried, it's just that this is a rough area and... Are you alright? Cold? My house isn't too far... You should stay there tonight." England extends a hand towards Lithuania, and after a moment of hesitation, he takes it. That hands feels so firm and strong, yet gentle. To the Lithuanian, it feels like a lifeline.
To both nations surprise, neither lets go, England leading the way through empty streets.
Lithuania feels better for the first time in three years.
Sorry for this being so late! I was really busy and couldn't write, so... I hope you enjoy this anyway! ^ ^
Reply
At first I was shocked at the fact that the C character was England, I mean in the good way (if it exist). I was expecting someone more typical like Poland or America. But Arthur...
Continue, please. The story seems to will be awsome.
PD: Sorry for my english, it's not my nature lenguage.
Reply
I'm glad you are enjoying it! ^ ^
Reply
By appearance, he believes that he is in the master bedroom, with a double bed and a wooden dresser, along with other pieces of furniture. He notices some clothes spread out on a chair to the corner of the light blue painted room, but he doesn't remember putting them there himself. He peers at the paintings, looking fondly at one depicting fields of golden corn, before a soft knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. The door slowly opens to reveal England, dressed casually in a plain shirt and trousers, holding a tray with a plate of food and two mugs on it.
"Did you sleep well? I made breakfast for us - well, the maid did. She insisted that I didn't feed you my cooking for some reason... Anyway! I made you a cup of tea too, but I could get some coffee if you wanted..." He is cut off as Lithuania shakes his head, indicating to place the tray on the small bedside table. Doing so, and with Lithuania starting to eat the meal, he sits on the edge of the bed and sips his tea, looking peacefully out the window at the birds.
It takes some time before either of them speaks, until England notices that the other nation has finished his meal, and moves to collect everything back on the tray. When Lithuania makes to help, England stops him, telling him to continue resting.
He is left in silence again.
He opens the window, and is greeted by a chorus of sounds; cars passing while birds chirp high up in the trees, and the gentle hush of the wind. There is a frost on the ground, adding a shimmer to the small back garden. From downstairs, he hears a whisper of classical music, and someone moving around in the kitchen.
Serene.
Tired, he climbs back into the bed, pulling the sheets right up to his chin, as he had done years ago. As he slowly falls asleep again, Lithuania wishes he could always feel like this.
If only.
I'm so so sorry that this is so short late and pathetic. I hope it's alright...?
And feel few to throw rocks because this will be on hiatus until I either finish exams or write a decent chapter. Sorry...
Reply
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