Fanfic: Latvia and Russia (sort of)
Figured I'd write a little more. This ones based around when Latvia finally left to gain freedom, and his thoughts on it. Feel free to crit, I'd love any comments on it at all. I've titled it Morning Lullaby because that's what I was listening to when I wrote it.
Cross posted to hetalia
Diary entry.
I know. I have been remiss in writing in you yes? I realise that of course, but it is not because I think you judge me. I want you to know that. I need you to know that. I can't judge you. I can not even judge myself.
I'm still alone of course. Always will be I suppose. But at the same time, I am not.
That is why I have taken so long to write anything again. Nothing has really happened since that night. That fateful night I wrote before that I not forget what happened. Even now I dare not speak of it, dare not write of it again. As though to do so would be to be found out. For if he knew, if he knew I had written this... he would probably be mad.
Would not speak with me. I could not bare that.
Even now, he does not speak often. Does not deign to notice my presence save for those few moments we drink, even then it is the others he speaks of. America, Germany, England, any but myself of course. What use am I? I am already here... they are not. They are far away and out of his reach.
The other Baltics, not a word. I dare not speak of them. If I speak of Estonia, he pretends not to know who he is, if I speak of Lithuania... he only gets mad... I am not sure if he is upset because of the betrayal, or if he is mad because he will not return, or what. He does not speak to me of feelings. Why would he?
No. This is not why I am writing. I am writing because I have made a decision.
I have to write it here... to clear my mind once and for all, I dare not speak it aloud, for if I even begin to muse upon it, I will lose my clarity, I will lose my nerve.
I too, I have to leave.
It hurts to think of it. I know he will be sad, once I am no longer in the house to talk with, once he is alone with no one there... I dare not think too hard on how he will cope. On if he will shed tears for me as he once did for Lithuania and Estonia. I dare not think on that... nor do I dare let him know I am leaving. He will either try to stop me which would be bad, or just let me go which would be worse.
My throat hurts when I think of him hurting, for as much as the others all say I should be glad to go, glad to rid myself of that which is apparently so painful, so cold, still, I can not help but think of the times he has treated me well. Of the times that he has wrapped an arm around me and although he would never say it, never even think it, I know he loves me. In his own way, his own careless, childlike, cruel, petty way, I know he loves me. As much as I love him.
Not that I could even think of saying such things aloud to him. He would reject me before I could reject him. For I am certain now that is why he rejects all thoughts and words of love that he himself has not said. It is fear.
I have a secret my diary. I have a secret that is big enough to eat me alive if I let it. I know Russia is afraid. It... It frightens me to even write such a thing, to even think such a thing. I know though. I know he fears being alone, and I know he fears rejection and love... yes, love scares him too. I am certain of it.
How then, you might ask me, could you but speak, how could I leave him alone if he fears being alone? But diary, I have to do so because of this. If I stay. He will never trust my motives. The others too, they will assume he forces me to remain with him and not all of my pleading and speeches of the contrary would sway them. I tried once, with America... but he thought I was brainwashed, even spoke of my being too afraid to admit that I hated him and that I wanted to leave...
What then can I do? How can I persuade them otherwise if I were not to leave first? To live as they say I have to. To experience this freedom that they all speak of so highly. I admit, I do not want it... but I have to. If I do not take it... they will turn on him again, even further...
I have to leave, and I have to leave when he is not expecting it. Though it hurts, though I shiver not with cold but with the heartache that I can already feel.
Before I can return, I have to leave, have to prove that my return is my doing and only my doing. My own will. I have one. I do.
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The house was silent. Lights all off save one, the one he was using to write in his diary with. Silently he closed the book, put it into a bag and turned off the final light.
He swallowed softly, no matter what he did. This had to be done. A deep breath, a last look at the house. He had to do that.
"What are you doing Latvia?"
A voice startled him out of his thoughts, turning to look at the man who had housed him for so long, that smile ever present, only one who knew him, who had lived with him and his moods could tell that it was too tight, too wide. That this was not a smile of happiness, but of suspicion and curiosity mixed intogether.
"Latvia? What are you doing? Where are you going? Is late Da? Have much to do tomorrow. Come back inside, get some sleep."
Even the tone of voice was wrong. Russia had to know. He had to realise what was going on. He was offering him last minute salvation. Allowing him to rethink his movements, but he couldnt' do it. This had to be done, Russia had to know this.
"I'm leaving. Lithuania and Estonia have gone... and I.. I have to go too. I have to attain freedom."
He stared at his former captor, not a trace of his usual stutter in his voice, calm, decided. However hard this was, he had to leave, there was no alternative now.
"If you leave. You can not return."
Was Russia being serious? If he left now... he could never return to this house? To the place that housed so many memories? He couldn't be. He just couldn't... but this was Russia. He rarely said such things unless he did. Even if this was a final last ditch effort to make him remain, now it was said, it would never be unsaid.
"Mr Russia... please... don't say such things... you might want me back someday..."
"Nyet. Traitor should not be allowed access to Russia's house. You said you would never leave. Promised to always stay. Now you are lying. Is traitor da?"
Oh... oh god... yes, he had promised such a thing, a long time ago, back when the other two Baltics had first left, back then he would have said anything to make the other smile again. Those tears had been terrible, the moping, the sulking, even through his periods of wanting to be left alone, Latvia had never run away, only stayed, trembling in the background, waiting to be noticed once more. Now though, now everything was different, surely Russia would understand? Right? Right?
"Mr Russia... I have to go..."
"Fine. Then go. Go have precious Freedom. I hope you learn your mistakes but will be too late Da? Can never come back. Go away and never return."
There was a sly look in Russia's face now, he thought he had won. He thought no matter what, that Latvia would never actually leave. Latvia knew though...
"Then... goodbye...Mr Russia."
It was with a heavy heart that he walked down that path, not bothering to wipe the tears away from his face as they trailed downwards leaving marks, marks that Russia himself had never left.
He did not dare look back. He did not want to see Russia crying, but he dreaded even more the thought that the larger country would still be smiling. Whatever the smile meant, it was still a smile... a smile that would break his heart even further.
Latvia left.