I have never understood why you do not love me, brother.

Is it my hair? The way I dress? The knife I clutch in my hands? Because I only have those things for you, brother. I dress as a girl for you so that I may one day dress as a woman for you. I keep the knife for you, to keep away all those that would harm you.

Is it because I am not a man?

Because all I have ever wanted is to curl up next to you, brother. To curl up in your bed in my wedding dress and brush the rice off your shoulders. And then you will wrap your arms around me and the room will not feel so cold.

I want to kiss your forehead, then your lips, and taste the blini I made, or the vodka we shared, or the borscht still hot on the stove.

I want to be the one that did not run away, the one that understood that you kiss with your pipe because you want your lovers to learn, but they never do. But I will, brother. So why do you hurt me? Not with pistols or whips but with your absence and fear. I will not harm you, brother, because I love you. So why do you wear the scarf made for you by the woman who will not even speak to you? She does not love you, not as I do.

I want to be there where when the nightmares wake you so I may stroke your hair and silence the memories as they whisper to you of rifles and fire and horses. I will silence them with your language, my language - our language. I will curl my fingers into the sweet faded hair I love and kiss close the violet eyes I love, and we will sleep, brother, and never wake.

I will be the one that will not fight you, the one that sees that you are not cruel or thirsty for blood. The one that does not wish for your flesh or your land or your home or your people. The one that wants to become one with you, the perfect satellite.

And you will forget the others, brother. Even though you told them your dreams and you worked so hard to be like them so maybe they would think are good enough to be in their clubs, the little groups they always stand in front of saying, No no, don't come in, because you are not like us, Russia, because we don't want you.

But I do.

You will forget them, brother. Each and every one.

You do not have to change for me. I will change for you. I will eat your food and wear your clothes. You do not have to change for me, brother, for you are perfect as you are. From your skin to your bones, your Urals to your coasts, your tundras to your grasslands, you are perfect.

I want to become one with you, brother. I want to give you your dreams.

So please, brother, unlock this door. I want to see the smile you have, the smile I try so hard to wear, the smile that never fades and dances in your eyes when they don't understand.

For brother, when you unlock this door, you will fall on your knee, I am sure, and then we can be married.


Author's Note:

I've been wanting to write some platonic one-sided BelarusxRussia for sometime now. And here it is! (Mostly) Straight from my sleep-deprived 4 AM mind. And now for things that matter.

Zanati - жанаты "married" in Belorussian. (It's freakishly, er, astonishingly close to the Russian word "zenati" женаты, which would be used in the phrase "Are you married?" - Вы женаты/Vi zenati.) I know limited Russian and no Belorussian, so please correct me if I've messed up.

"brush the rice off your shoulders" - In Russian weddings (which seem like the most fun weddings ever) rice and/or coins are thrown at the bride and groom as they go to their car.

Blini - a thin type of pancake eaten with cheese, fruit or caviar as a side in Eastern Europe, something like a crêpe.

Borscht - beet soup common in Eastern Europe

And lastly, about the "is it because I am not man" line, Russia does mention how he feels the most comfortable around Lithuania, and hey, there is an astonishing lack of female characters in the series.

Oh, Belarus. You're the best sister ever.