Do not own.
"Do you...love me?"
"No."
"Do you think you could ever love me?"
"No."
Every time. It was always a stoic 'no' from the platinum blond. Lithuania didn't know what he was doing wrong, what made her dislike him so. Was it because he wasn't good-looking enough? Perhaps it was his personality- maybe she preferred dominant men?
But no matter how much Lithuania tried, he could never change. He soon attributed her dislike of him to the fact that her beloved brother paid a lot of attention to him. Russia...oh, how much he envied the large country. Russia was strong, he was intimidating. He could even make Germany hesitate.
Sometimes, he envied Russia. Other times, he hated him with a passion. But most of the time? He feared him. Of course, this made his infatuation with Belarus rather odd. If he was scared of Russia, who was scared of Belarus, why wasn't he afraid of the blond woman?
Lithuania would shake aside those questions and answer them as vaguely as possible. After all, no one really understood him. They all viewed him as one of the Baltics, the three who Russia enjoyed tormenting. The three 'cowards'.
"Do you...love me?"
"No."
"Do you think you could ever love me?"
"...No."
Lithuania asked this question at least four times a month without fail. Her answer was always the same- no. He was starting to get depressed.
If he thought about it, he would notice that Belarus started being hesitant with her refusals.
"Do you love me?"
"No."
Lithuania inwardly groaned. His heart couldn't cope with this much longer.
"Do you think you could ever love me?"
"..."
Lithuania sighed, dreading her 'no'. Again. It had been around thirty years since he started asking. Perhaps he should just give up-
"Maybe."
Lithuania's head shot up, his jaw practically hitting the floor. "Wh-what?" he stammered. Belarus looked at him, annoyed. "Maybe. Can you not hear, Lithuania?" she demanded, her expression exuding impatience.
Lithuania's mouth remained agape as the proud country marched off, her Mary-Janes making loud clicking noises on the polished marble.
The other Baltics found him standing in the hallway six hours and twenty-three minutes later, his expression a mix of pure bliss and shock. They had to drag him into their car before he snapped out of it.
Felt pretty sad for ol' Lithy, so I decided to throw him a bone.
A bone the shape of an ex-Soviet country obsessed with her brother. Don't get me wrong- I LURRRVE Belarus. She's awesome.
And I don't wear or own Mary-Janes (neither have I written about them), so I don't know if this is how you write them. Mary Janes? Mary-Janes?