For Each Ecstatic Instant (3/10)
anonymous
January 9 2010, 18:33:00 UTC
The temperature in the small bedroom seemed to plummet as Russia stared evenly at Lithuania.
“I’m a sovereign nation,” Lithuania said flatly, the words that he had rehearsed over and over again as he lay awake in bed. “And, I’m going to be one on my own from now on.”
And you just try to stop me. The threat lay unspoken, but quietly understood.
Russia’s expression didn’t change. He simply stared down at the smaller-much, much smaller-nation, looking at him in mildly irritated confusion. Lithuania felt his resolve waver. This was the part he had been dreading.
He could fight, he could war for freedom, but now he was battling his way out of the depth of Russia’s madness.
“You’re staying here,” Russia said neatly. “Here, with me.” He smiled as if that solved everything.
Lithuania took a deep breath and shook his head. He closed the suitcase he had been packing and straightened up. “I can’t Russia. I-”
He wasn’t aware of Russia’s fist until after it had smashed into the side of his head. The suitcase dropped from his hand and Lithuania stumbled back against the bed. As lights ran across his eyes, Russia’s hand came down hard over his throat.
Lithuania choked. Blind, primal panic took, and he struggled uselessly against the iron grip. Russia slapped him again, and he finally lay still, rasping in what little air he could.
Russia loomed over him, expression still innocently confused, a hurt, frightened little child.
“You are with Russia,” he explained simply. “You are with us. Aren’t you happy?”
He underlined his point by pressing closer down on Lithuania, smiling plaintively at him. Lithuania tried to swallow, feeling the strength radiating from the body bearing down on him. Russia could snap his neck as easily as a twig, could crush Lithuania with a twitch of his fingers.
Could blow him off the map by pressing a single red button.
Lithuania shook his head.
He shut his eyes as the fist swung down at him once again.
“I’m a sovereign nation,” Lithuania said flatly, the words that he had rehearsed over and over again as he lay awake in bed. “And, I’m going to be one on my own from now on.”
And you just try to stop me. The threat lay unspoken, but quietly understood.
Russia’s expression didn’t change. He simply stared down at the smaller-much, much smaller-nation, looking at him in mildly irritated confusion. Lithuania felt his resolve waver. This was the part he had been dreading.
He could fight, he could war for freedom, but now he was battling his way out of the depth of Russia’s madness.
“You’re staying here,” Russia said neatly. “Here, with me.” He smiled as if that solved everything.
Lithuania took a deep breath and shook his head. He closed the suitcase he had been packing and straightened up. “I can’t Russia. I-”
He wasn’t aware of Russia’s fist until after it had smashed into the side of his head. The suitcase dropped from his hand and Lithuania stumbled back against the bed. As lights ran across his eyes, Russia’s hand came down hard over his throat.
Lithuania choked. Blind, primal panic took, and he struggled uselessly against the iron grip. Russia slapped him again, and he finally lay still, rasping in what little air he could.
Russia loomed over him, expression still innocently confused, a hurt, frightened little child.
“You are with Russia,” he explained simply. “You are with us. Aren’t you happy?”
He underlined his point by pressing closer down on Lithuania, smiling plaintively at him. Lithuania tried to swallow, feeling the strength radiating from the body bearing down on him. Russia could snap his neck as easily as a twig, could crush Lithuania with a twitch of his fingers.
Could blow him off the map by pressing a single red button.
Lithuania shook his head.
He shut his eyes as the fist swung down at him once again.
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