Details/Notes: Russia/Liet has kind of, I don't know, eaten my brain. Nrgh. I never used to be into the ridiculously creepy pairing, I swear. Five inter-connected drabbles. Apologies for any spelling errors and/or canon incorrectness. Please review!

Forever Back:

Lithuania know madness, tangentially.

"I d-don't have anything for you."

"Of course you do," Russia insists, "You have yourself!"

Lithuania wants to protest, to shove the door closed in Russia's face and be rid of him once and for all, but he merely casts his gaze downward, to the sunflowers wilting in Russia's arms, and bites his lips nervously.

Russia steps into his modest house. Lithuania traces the wet footprints with his stare. He bites his lip harder as Russia's heel kicks up the edge of the rug.

"You don't want me," he says, and longs for it to be a statement of fact.

Russia is as unpredictable as he is cruel. He will laugh and tease, belittle and torment, force Lithuania to do his bidding, demand truthfulness, beg for lies.

He reaches a point where he stops anticipating what Russia will do, and just wait for it to happen.

He puts the sunflowers into a vase, and fills it with water, it feels pointless when they are already so near death.

"Sit with me."

Russia envelopes him, and Lithuania disappears into his coat, a memory of the past, warm and silent, breathing slow in the darkness.

He believes fiercely, this is Russia's kindness.

He doesn't move when Russia pets his hair, doesn't want to leave behind his warm cocoon for cold fingers, and Russia's vodka-stained breath as he licks Lithuania's parted lips.

Russia moves him where he wants Lithuania to be. Lifts his head from his lap, and grips his shoulders until Lithuania reaches his arms around Russia's neck.

His fingers are cold.

His mouth is warm.

Even now he breathes in this country's contradictions. He shakes when Russia unbuttons his shirt, and although Russia does not continue, hands falling uselessly to his sides, Lithuania cannot stop.

His head rests on Russia's neck.

"Will you leave me too?"


"Liar," Russia declares, twisting his fingers again into Lithuania's hair, and pulling. "Everyone leaves me."

Lithuania can feel his heart beating far too quickly inside his chest, and he clutches Russia's shoulders, because even though he wants nothing more than to push himself away, he is trapped.

Russia is all he has in sight.

"You left me before." Russia's eyes are narrow, hazy slits.

Lithuania shakes, hides his face again, looks up because he can't stop himself. "I w-won't now." He swallows. "N-no w-where else."

He tries to smile.

Russia grins straight through him.

He is not alone, Lithuania knows, but when Russia is asleep he can at least pretend he is. Pretend the body squeezing his ribs too tightly doesn't exist at all.

Russia takes from him, leaves bruised lips and bloody scratches as a remembrance.

In the morning, Lithuania will throw out the dead flowers along with his hopes. Russia will depart, but never truly leave, and Lithuania will teeter on the edge.

When will he come again?

Will he come again?

Doubt will lace its way through his mind. Fear will follow.

Lithuania will continue as he does, looking forever back.


End Notes: Thank you for reading. Please review. Even a few words, no matter how silly, are appreciated.