Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, kthnxbai (though I would love to have Poland locked up in my closet.... little red schoolgirl skirt, no panties.... *is shot*)

Author's Note: Well, I bet you all thought I'd disappeared from the face of the planet? Haven't written a fan-fic in so long, I'm probably a bit rusty....

In any case. The warning sof this fan-fiction include a bit of head-cannon, mentions of the Holocaust, and in future chapters... Rape and violnce, with some gore.

Alright. If you do not like that kind of think, do not read this. Goodbye.

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Poland's P.O.V

I've always wondered what he thought of me.

I wondered if he hated me for stealing his capitol (All I had wanted was a piece of him to call my own...), for being so selfish, for acting so materialistic.

It is acting, you know... not all of it, but a good chunk of my personality that people see is completely fake. I... am not as stupid as I let on, I'm not quite as ditzy, and my hobbies are a bit exaggerated (though still there).

Why do I act?

Because it's easier to get what you want when people understimate you.

If they think you're stupid, then they'll let things slip.

If they think you're a ditz, then they won't expect you to use those things they let slip against them.

They'll start to think you're harmless, that all you care about it shopping, and texting, and wearing girl's clothes. That you can't fight, that you can't stand up for yourself, that you can't survive...

But I've proven them wrong, have I not?

September 1st, 1939. I had been expecting it... but would could I have done? The one person I trusted most to be by my side was no longer talking to me at that point. I didn't have the kind of technology that Germany did... that Russia did.

I lost. Brutally.

The pain I felt as my people were murdered.... the hatred I felt for England and France when they basically left me to fend off my two attackers.... I pretend that I'm not bothered, that it doesn't matter to me, but sometimes..... sometimes, when I'm alone around France, or England, or Germany... or Russia.... Especially Russia....

Sometimes I just want to snap their necks.

Ah! Crud... there I go, getting off-subject. I had a point I was trying to make here.

My point, my friends, is that even though Russia and Germany completely destroyed my people, slaughtered them, took them and.... and sent them to camps....

Even though I was weak, and could not fight to the best of my abilities....

Even though.... even though they beat me and tortured me, cut me, stabbed me, played with my body.... with my people.... Even though it looked like there was no way I could ever recover, that I would die.... And I almost did...

I. NEVER. ONCE. GaVE. UP.

Even as I lay dying, my breaths ragged, my body numb and losing blood, not once did I ever say, "Fuck it.... I give up."

And as long as one of my people was still alive, still able to do they're part, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would not die.

And I was right, now, wasn't I?

I did not die, I lived. I survived, though I still ache for those that.... that....

If I were not such close friends with Italy, I would have had Germany killed... in the most violent way imaginable.

I wonder what Liet would have thought if I had done it... would he have hated me even more?

He is SOOOOOOOOO oblivious. He doesn't actually catch anything until it's dancing naked in his face.... that's why he doesn't yet know how I feel... How much that I....

That I love him.

Then again, I never did make it easy to tell. I acted like how a five-year-old boy acts around the girl he likes.... I teased him and mocked him, bullied him and pushed him around, treated him like crap.... I know that I am stupid in that regard, but I feared that if he found out, he would be disgusted me.

I gradually started to hint at it, though... I began dressing in female clothing once in a while to catch him off-guard. I then found, unwittingly, that female clothing is surprisingly more comfortabel than male clothing, and discovered that I actually enjoyed going shopping for new skirts, and blouses, and shoes.

It is now a problem I have... I wonder if they have groups for that? You know, "Shopaholics Anonymous" or something. If not, then they should... I've maxed out my credit card way too many timesfor comfort.

Like I said... I exaggerate, but I don't really lie...

I'm not the smartest person in the world, and I can be a ditz. For example.... I don't cook anymore due to the fact that I ended up practically burning the kitchen down. My hand still stings when I think about it... I had stupidly grabbed the pan to try and move it, and ended up having to have first-aid done on the third-degree burns.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand... I'm off-track again.

See? I do this a lot.... I begin to talk about one thing, and I always- Well, anyway, we were talking about Liet, right?

About how much I wish he would just... would just get it, and he would know, and everything would be better.

I dream of him holding me in his arms... of him telling me what I wish I was not too scared to tell him.

I wish.... he could love me, too...

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Liet's P.O.V

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I sometimes wonder what he sees in me.

He's so outrageous, so social, so cheerful... he doesn't let things bother him, doesn't let himself get down, he doesn't hold grudges, he knows how to talk to people, and he's so...

His hair is always perfect, his eyes are always dancing, his clothes are never anything less than the best, his skin is flawless.... so much so that sometimes I wonder if....

If I were to kiss his skin.... would the mark I would leave stay?

Urgh.... I can't help but blush and hit myself over the head for even thinking that. He's my best friend, for God's sakes.... He'd never accept any feelings from me.... I'm much too plain to suit his tastes....

I want to touch him.

I really, really do.

I want to have him crying out my name.... I feel horrible for saying that, but.... It's true.

When he stole Vilnius from me.... I almost snapped. I was inches away from taking him and pinning him to a wall, and... and doing all the things I had dreamt of doing to him.... all the things I had thought of that would make him be the one that was humiliated. I wanted to hear him cry out, I wanted him to beg... just like I had begged for him to give me back my capitol.

And I hated myself for thinking it. It was such a sadistic thing to want to do, it was more like something Mister Russia would...

And then I wondered, like I still do.... am I turning into him? Am I so used to being used and abused by him, that I'm starting to... to warp into a twisted, Russia-fied version of my former self?

That thought scares me.... I don't want to hurt those I care about...

So-

I've been avoiding him lately.

I wonder if he even cares? If he's worried that I haven't stopped by?

Not that it matters..... I can hear Russia calling me, and as my stomach clenches in fear of what he might want me to do, I must go to him.

Angering him is the worst thing you could possibly do.

Russia's P.O.V

He comes as called, just like always. He's so good, my dearest little Lietuva.... so well-behaved, and he never, ever talks back to me... he knows better than to even try.

Ah... he's shivering. How pretty... I can only wonder if he's cold, or scared..... Maybe it is both.

I smile. "Ah~ my darling Liet. I have missed you! You have missed me too, da?"

He nods, and my smile widens. My Liet, my lovely Liet.... all mine, for me to do with as I please.... he never complains, never tells me no... he used to, of course.

But he learned that that was not a smart thing to do.

The easiest way to get him to surrender was simply to mention Poland... I could tell that the little fag wash is weak point. Itold him of all the things I could do to the little blonde, and he did everything to make me change my mind.

I wonder what he would do if he knew what I had already done to him?

The Holocaust was so much fun! I smile when I think about it. I liked Germany back then... he was so cruel, and he had the greatest ideas.... Ah, the things we did with that poor, defenseless Poland... nobody came to help him, not until it was too late.

I think that that is probably my most cherished memory... Poland, screaming and begging for us to stop, the horrified expression on his face as we crushed his people...

Yet... the little brat didn't die... he survived, and I could not hate him more.

I want to see him scream.

I sigh. I suppose my lovely Liet shall do for now...

"Ah, Lietuva.... you know what do do.... da?" I smile as he drops to his knees.