A/N: Okay, this is my second attempt at a Turkey/Greece fic, (the other one hasn't been posted or finished. It wasn't working with my brain today, so I put it aside for another day.) So this is a short drabble-y thing, I hope you enjoy it. Review as well.
o0o
Greece picked the petals off the little yellow flower. With his flowers, it was never "he loves me" or "he loves me not." It was a little more black and white with Turkey.
He loves me.
Their relationship was complicated to say the least. Greece sometimes couldn't be surer that he loved the masked man. There was no question, sometimes, that the other man loved him. The kisses, the touches, the sweet words. Yes, he knew that Turkey loved him.
He hates me.
But then, it wasn't always that way. There was the rivalry, the mean words, the dark past of control. He could be harsh, insensitive, competitive, and sometimes Greece was sure that he hated Turkey as much as Turkey seemed to hate him.
He loves me.
But no, Greece couldn't help but love him. Even though they had a rough relationship some of the time, they were undeniably connected. They couldn't stay away from one another. And when it was good, it was wonderful. Greece loved falling asleep in the other man's arms, feeling the warmth that radiated from his core, feeling so safe.
He hates me.
But…but then there were always the bad times, the times Greece would rather smother Turkey with the nearest pillow, than listen to the old man talk. He hated his voice, his demeanor, his stupid mask that hid him from the world. Without a thought, he'd voice to anyone his hatred, and gladly pay them to slit Turkey's throat.
He loves me.
Why did he stay? Why did he put himself through the roller coaster of emotions? Greece wrinkled his brow and pulled the last few petals from the flower.
He hates me.
Pick.
He loves me.
Pick.
He hates me…
Pick.
He loves me…
Alright, just a short drabble. It's shorter than I expected it to be, but I hope it's still alright. Hope you liked it.
-K.H. Wright