A/N: Oh, heeeey, you guys! :D Long time, no see. My apologies go out to my last story...I'm sorry that I haven't been updating that one. But I'll eventually get around to it, I promise. Then, you may read my long list of excuses. ;3; So, this is another LietxAmerica fiction. I'm still obsessed with that pairing as usual. 3; I wish more people loved it though. -sigh.- I need to stop rambling. I must give a thanks to everyone helping me with this, I guess. Thank you to my editor, and darling sister, Amy. And thank you to my friend Alex who has roleplayed the plot out with me to help me sum up the character's feelings better. I like getting a good grasp on them. Thank you, loves! 3;
Pairing: Lithuania x America (Toris Lorinaitis x Alfred F. Jones)
Warnings:
Character death.
Foul language.
Angst.
Violence.
Fluff. 3;
And some smut. ;D
Disclaimer: Pft. Obviously, I don't have the intellegence to come up with something as amazing as Hetalia. /3;
Alfred F. Jones had seen enough.
No way—never in a million years—was he going to just let this slip by another day. The last straw had been pulled, and he had officially snapped.
It killed him inside everyday—oh, dear lord, how it did. Seeing his love, Toris Lorinaitis, just follow behind Russia—behind that sick, vile bastard, like a little toy. Russia's toy. A toy he could play with however the fuck he wanted to. His bile churned spitefully in his gut, his heart pounding numbly in his ears as he bit down hard on his lower lip, having to force himself from just lunging across that table and squeezing the life out of that Russian bastard with his bare hands.
The temptations made it even worse.
God dammit, did Toris honestly think he could keep up this act any longer? Just pretending like Russia didn't exist, pretending like he didn't beat and terrify the living shit out of him every day? What the hell did he think Alfred was? Blind? If anyone was blind, it was Toris himself. He was blinded by that annoying selflessness of his.
…
Oh, God. Alfred loved Toris so fucking much. It only made it hundreds of times worse when he did nothing about Russia. He was sick and fucking tired of Toris just denying the hurt, daring to laugh too, and saying that it was fine with that fake, unconvincing smile of his.
That fake smile. Alfred hated it. It was all because of Russia—Russia made him smile like that. Russia sucked all of the joy out of his boyfriend. The bastard ruined everything. True smiles were supposed to take up one's entire face, use every muscle. The expression mounted atop Lithuania's lips was the exact opposite. Only his mouth was used. And speaking of mouth, his lips had gotten colder too. His kisses. His touches.
Everything about him had gotten colder, changed. His cheeks were constantly pallid, and his olive eyes were wide and frightful, like he was about to get attacked any minute. As though Alfred would attack him. His muscles were clenched tightly together, and goose bumps scattered his bruised and broken skin despite the warmth of the environment. Dark, dark circles had formed under his bloodshot eyes. He looked like he was dead.
Alfred wanted to—needed—to speak to Toris after the meeting was over. The other's forehead was beaded with a light sweat, and his hands were fidgeting and trembling madly. His eyes shot across the room from nation to nation, yet that sick smile was still plastered on his face. He was a mess.
And it was Alfred's job to help clean it up.
"Toris…" Alfred sighed, the instant the meeting was over. He had approached the Lithuanian from behind, who luckily, was alone at the moment. Russia had already shuffled out the door with the other two Baltic States. He winced as Lithuania practically jumped out of his own shoes at the sound of his name, shakily turning around to face the cause of that noise. Of course. The fake smile returned as soon as he registered it was Alfred.
"I know you're probably really busy today…But how are you?" Russia wouldn't notice his absence for only a little bit right?
Toris shrugged, the sound that he made—supposedly a chuckle—obviously forged as the rest of him. "I'm okay. Alfred, are you okay? You look a little red, like you're mad, or upset, or something…" He reached up to rest a hand on the other's cheek, caressing the skin with his thumb. Alfred sighed, knowing that he'd probably change the subject. Always worrying about others, that Toris was.
Alfred ignored that question, sighing deeply. He hated how much he cared about Toris…If he didn't, it wouldn't hurt this badly to know that the other was lying to him. "Toris…" he whispered, cerulean eyes staring deeply into the others, as if he could somehow find the answers in that forest of olive green. A color he'd grown to love, to cherish. "Please, I hate it when you lie to me." He gently picked up the hand that caressed his face, kissing a knuckle gently. "How is it really like living with Ivan?"
He knew he'd touched something in Toris from that last sentence. The other probably hated lying to him as much as Alfred hated being lied to. "R-Really, it's fine," he insisted, stuttering slightly. "Ivan treats me…well."
Well? Well? Alfred wanted to fucking scream. How the hell could he think that Russia treated him "well." He was as thin as a toothpick! Not to mention the condition of the rest of his body…Tormented. There was no other way to describe it.
Without realizing it, his grip on Toris' hand had tightened greatly, the other obviously catching onto his anger. Gently withdrawing it, he cleared his throat, looking towards the door and back to Alfred. "Al, I love you so much…But I really have to go now."
The smaller nation stood up onto his tip-toes, kissing Alfred's warm lips with a chaste seal before darting out of sight. But, despite the care of that kiss, it was still just as cold.
And Alfred was going to fucking catch that cold on fire. Tonight. He was going to knock some fucking sense into his love's head.
Because he'd be damned if he ever saw that fake smile again.
;u;
Angry chapter, da?
Please, please, PLEAASE review. :'D
They make me happier than you can imagine. 3;
I...love you?
