AN: This took me about 2-3 hours to write and it's terrible so yeah. First stab at BelLiet.
"It was like, such a totally terrible misunderstanding, wasn't it?", Feliks asked Toris that day and all that rushed through the brunette's head was to punch the blonde in the face. So he did. Feeling his body shake terribly, he lowered his fist and let the arm drop, looking Feliks straight in the eye, as he fell at the column nearby.
"You don't understand anything, do you?", he asked, his voice unnaturally high, trembling. "I've never held more pity for you before now."
Feliks wrapped his arms around the column so he wouldn't fall to the ground and held his chin up. Toris watched in disbelief as blood dripped from Pole's nose, staining the beautiful marble floor red.
"Like, look at yourself!", Feliks said, his voice still cheery despite his face swelling at a flash. He desperately wanted Toris to realise his mistake. "She would like, never pick you over Ivan! You were totally fooling yourself!"
The Lithuanian didn't want to hear any more of this. In an instant, he covered his ears with his hands, shut his eyes, that had already managed to fill up with tears. "Y-you know n-nothing! Nothing!"
Feliks laughed, his face looking like a devastated battlefield. "You're, like funny, Toris, you know?"
Suddenly, the brunette turned around, his trembling hands almost hustling into his ears. Starting to whistle, he took one, two, three steps back and before he noticed, he was running so velociously he couldn't breathe. Feliks didn't understand anything! How could he ever trust him with a secret like that?!
Out of breath, he stopped, panting heavily while he dug his green trainers into the damp ground. Dark, shadow-like clouds were covering the grey sky, reaching their gloomy, somber fingers to grab more, more and more. Toris didn't like rainstorms and it seemed like this one would be... remarkable. Feeling his hands dampen slightly, he clenched them into fists and continued to walk at a slow pace, trying to calm down.
His thoughts didn't leave Natalia and how disgusting Feliks seemed right now. What he, Toris did, didn't seem grotesque at all. It didn't feel wrong, ha, it felt more than just right. Fantastic. Speeding up, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown jacket.
He watched her being taken away that day. Safe from behind Ivan, he, Ravis and Eduard stared at Natalia's pathetic, angry threats, her attempts to punch the policemen. As the others felt nothing, Toris' could almost hear the tremendous sound of his heart being shattered to tiny little pieces, almost like mirror shards. His face didn't move a muscle, as she turned around, spotting her brother, screaming, begging him to help her, how she loves him. The policemen showed no remorse; they pushed her into the car and left as quickly as possible without causing any more trouble.
Ivan turned around, a never ending smile on his face.
"It's dinner time!", he exclaimed, hurrying them back to the kitchen.
He kicked an empty soda can on his way, listening to the acute sound of it rolling across the pavement. This was all so, so... unfair. Eerie. Sometimes he thought that she'll bump into the room, so excited, energetic. And even though it would have nothing to do with him, he wouldn't mind it, because seeing Natalia being so passionate meant a whole lot more to him than anything else in the world.
But she won't and he knows it.
And he can't do anything about it, because she is... away.
He'd give everything to see her again, even if she said she wanted to wipe the floor with his face; he'd gladly do it just to see her smile.
"What are you doing Feliks?", he asks, a tint of worry in his voice. Looking over his shoulder, he seems hesitant for a minute. "Feliks?"
"Good evening, is this the police? Yeah, like we just had a break in here. Yes, her name's...", Feliks filled the room with quiet chatter, as Toris grew paler and paler.
"Stop it, or something bad will happen, please, Feliks, stop...", he begged but the Pole didn't stop, avoiding his worried look.
"Shut up, I'm totally trying to help", he snapped, sending the Lithuanian a comforting look. "Everything will be okay."
Why is he doing this?, rushed through Toris' mind. He can't do this to Natalia, he had to stop!
Yet he managed to do nothing and stood there, his mind abusing itself over and over.
He stopped in front of his house. It was regular, nothing special, just a simple small building with a tiny garden. The windows seemed upset, with their wooden frames and subtle grey curtains. Walking through the gate, he looked over to the mailbox and collected a couple of white envelopes. Bills, advertisements. More bills.
Taking out the key from his pocket he unlocked the doors with his shaking hands. Pushing onto them with his side, he opened them and walked in, his head lowered. It was so silent, almost soothing, he thought. Her scent was already absent among all those other ones; the smell of a detergent was overwhelming, made him instantly dizzy. Taking his cotton jacket off, he hung it upon the hook, reaching his skinny hand out to put the keys on the table nearby. He still kept that pillow her head rested on that night.
Her scent faded.
He carefully laid her on the bed, making sure her hair was still perfect. Her eyes were closed, breathing even and regular. Hurriedly, he took his hands away and put a cover on her slim body. It was just a cheap, blue blanket, but to him, it instantly looked better in her presence. Content, he carefully lied next to her, taking some of the cover for himself and wrapping his hands around her waist.
They lied together like that for almost an eternity, Toris had thought. It felt...so right, lying next to her. If only she saw anyone else except for Ivan...
And then she woke up, leaving nothing but disaster and the metallic taste of blood.
Making his way upstairs, his feet started to disobey, go soft. He had to see her once again, just this once. However when he promised himself he'd burn the remains, he instantly knew he would break this promise.
The attic was quiet and dusty. He hated the way it always kept so unclean, so he threw the box there. If only he could forget about its existence.
He found it; all alone in the corner, how could he ever abandon it in this terrifying place? How could he leave it?
Shivers ran up and down his body when he took the cover off and reached his trembling fingers to snatch the objects from inside the box.
"What a shame, they've yellowed a little", he whispered, as he stared at the picture of her sleeping. Her body was covered with a cheap old blanket, but now he saw it only emphasised her exquisite beauty. Another photograph, she ran across Ivan's house, so excited, passionate, her hair flowing behind her. It was a bit blurred, he thought, but he couldn't be sure as bitter tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks.
AN: Prompt: The story ends in an attic. The story takes place ten years into the future. During the story, someone is framed for a crime they didn't commit.