Breakeven.
THIS IS ENTIRELY lilichen's fault!!
Finlyandiya laughed, his voice still as high and sweet as it was when he was younger, when he belonged with him. It was muffled through the glass, the sound having been meant more for Sweden’s ears than Russia’s, but Russia savored the sound. It was forbidden fruit now, nothing more than a temptation to reach out and take what was no longer his, but there was wood and mortar and glass between them and Russia’s reach was no longer that far. He hadn’t been able to reach Finlyandiya in far too long.
“Sverige,” Finlyandiya breathed as Sweden touched him gently, and Russia closed his eyes and imagined that Finlyandiya was saying “Venäjä” instead, in his delicious way that was more air than syllables and sound. How had he ended up here?
Oh, yes…he’d come for a visit. He couldn’t remember why he had wanted to visit anymore, but he had hidden behind the woodpile neatly stacked up by their cozy home as Latviya and that boy, the cute one with the blond hair and the sailor outfit, left. Finlyandiya had waved them off and shut the door and Russia had seen his shadow move across the windows, room by room, until it had melted and became one with Sweden’s. And by then it was too late for Russia to leave.
Finlyandiya and Sweden were interlocked together now, an embrace that was a slow dance across their room to the bed, their bodies moving in motions that were familiar and practiced but still somehow exciting and wonderful and Russia could see this somehow through his tears of longing but he wasn’t quite sure how.
He and Finlyandiya had never gotten close like that; Finlyandiya had been jittery from his time as Sweden’s, and so Russia had been slow with him. He had given his language importance, had restored to him his legislative powers and Russia had gotten in return a couple of shy kisses, a sunflower placed on his pillow, a Runebergintorttu every February 5th. It had been enough for Russia then; he loved how quiet and gentle Finlyandiya was, how melodic his language. But eventually his boss had tired of it, and despite Russia’s pleas, had pressed and pressed at Finlyandiya until finally, the boy turned and pulled away from Russia until he had lost him. Russia had tried to get Finlyandiya back, but it was no use.
And now there he was, willingly moaning and writhing under Sweden, the one who had broken him so badly that Russia had to save and fix him as best as he could. And now Russia could do nothing but cry as Finlyandiya proved that what Russia had done for him had been forgotten, his tears creating nothing but holes in the snow to be covered up with a mere footprint.
So, my headcanon says that Russia thinks of those that used to be his in Russian, which is why Finland is 'Finlyandiya' and Sweden is just...Sweden.
Venäjä = Russia in Finnish
Runebergintorttu = http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runeberg%27s_tart
SO EMBARRASSED
Finlyandiya laughed, his voice still as high and sweet as it was when he was younger, when he belonged with him. It was muffled through the glass, the sound having been meant more for Sweden’s ears than Russia’s, but Russia savored the sound. It was forbidden fruit now, nothing more than a temptation to reach out and take what was no longer his, but there was wood and mortar and glass between them and Russia’s reach was no longer that far. He hadn’t been able to reach Finlyandiya in far too long.
“Sverige,” Finlyandiya breathed as Sweden touched him gently, and Russia closed his eyes and imagined that Finlyandiya was saying “Venäjä” instead, in his delicious way that was more air than syllables and sound. How had he ended up here?
Oh, yes…he’d come for a visit. He couldn’t remember why he had wanted to visit anymore, but he had hidden behind the woodpile neatly stacked up by their cozy home as Latviya and that boy, the cute one with the blond hair and the sailor outfit, left. Finlyandiya had waved them off and shut the door and Russia had seen his shadow move across the windows, room by room, until it had melted and became one with Sweden’s. And by then it was too late for Russia to leave.
Finlyandiya and Sweden were interlocked together now, an embrace that was a slow dance across their room to the bed, their bodies moving in motions that were familiar and practiced but still somehow exciting and wonderful and Russia could see this somehow through his tears of longing but he wasn’t quite sure how.
He and Finlyandiya had never gotten close like that; Finlyandiya had been jittery from his time as Sweden’s, and so Russia had been slow with him. He had given his language importance, had restored to him his legislative powers and Russia had gotten in return a couple of shy kisses, a sunflower placed on his pillow, a Runebergintorttu every February 5th. It had been enough for Russia then; he loved how quiet and gentle Finlyandiya was, how melodic his language. But eventually his boss had tired of it, and despite Russia’s pleas, had pressed and pressed at Finlyandiya until finally, the boy turned and pulled away from Russia until he had lost him. Russia had tried to get Finlyandiya back, but it was no use.
And now there he was, willingly moaning and writhing under Sweden, the one who had broken him so badly that Russia had to save and fix him as best as he could. And now Russia could do nothing but cry as Finlyandiya proved that what Russia had done for him had been forgotten, his tears creating nothing but holes in the snow to be covered up with a mere footprint.
So, my headcanon says that Russia thinks of those that used to be his in Russian, which is why Finland is 'Finlyandiya' and Sweden is just...Sweden.
Venäjä = Russia in Finnish
Runebergintorttu = http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runeberg%27s_tart
SO EMBARRASSED