DenEst is gr8 m8 no h8 8/8.
The song this fic is based off of is 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover by Paul Simon, and I recommend listening to it while reading this. It was originally going to be NedRo but then I thought "Fuck it the plot fits DenEst better and Fem Denmark is an absolute babe let's do this". Also, I apologise in advance for doing the cliché "Russia is an abusive dickhead" thing.
Names:
Michaela-Fem Denmark
Eduard-Estonia
Ivan-Russia
Michaela was worried about her friend. This was the fifth time in a month that Eduard had come to her door bruised and bleeding. Each time she'd fix his wounds and Sellotape his glasses and he'd stay the night before going back to his absolute bastard of a boyfriend, who'd then send him straight back after a week or less.
"Ed," she murmured, cleaning a cut on his cheek from a smashed vodka bottle, "You have to leave that bastard. You know that."
"Of course I know that," he mumbled, "But you know what Ivan's like. He'll make my life a living hell if I end it with him."
"You can't carry on like this. Someday he'll go too far and you'll get seriously hurt."
"I know. But how the hell do you break up with somebody like Ivan?"
"There must be more than fifty ways."
"There can be a million, but that doesn't make it any easier. Besides, who else would take me?"
Michaela's face fell. She hated seeing her old friend look at her with those dull blue eyes and speak in those words, words that Ivan had put into his mouth. "At least as many people as there are ways, Eduard."
—
"Ivan."
Eduard's boyfriend wasn't paying attention to him, more focused on the TV and his vodka.
"Ivan," he repeated, more firmly this time.
Ivan looked up at him, a little tipsy. "Da?"
"I'm…" The words wouldn't leave his lips. He couldn't say a word.
"You're what, hm?" Ivan flexed his fingers on the hand not holding his drink. That was a threat in Eduard's eyes.
"I'm, uh… I'm very lucky to have you, Ivan." You idiot, Eduard. You stupid coward.
"I know, sunflower. I'm lucky to have you too. Now let me watch."
Eduard looked at the flickering screen. It was midway through the ad break.
"Yes, Ivan."
Eduard shuffled upstairs and into his room to text Michaela. It was one word, but one word was all he needed.
"Couldn't."
Her reply was immediate. "My place if you can."
"If I can."
—
Michaela handed Eduard a beer, which he nearly declined but took anyway. His fingers pitter-pattered on the table, tapping out a tuneless rhythm, and his head was bowed slightly. Michaela went back to leaning on the doorway with her own beer in hand, looking over at him with uncharacteristic seriousness. Eduard noted how different the way she drank was to the way Ivan did. Ivan drank like a baby breastfeeding, sucking at the mouth of his bottle like it was the only thing keeping him alive (probably a bad idea seeing as all he seemed too drink was vodka). Though Michaela herself was far from dainty, she took sips of it at random intervals, drinking like it was water. All her actual focus was on Eduard.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him.
He shook his head.
"You just need to get up the courage, Eddy. I hate seeing you like this. If there's anything I can do…"
"I appreciate that, Chaela. And actually, there is something."
"Anything."
"Can you help me gather up the courage? Please? If there's any way…"
"Of course I will, you know I will. But for now, it's getting late. Sleep on it, Eddy. Maybe in the morning you'll feel braver."
Eduard nodded and stood up to go into the living room, where the futon was still out from the last night he had stayed there. He only got as far as the doorway before Michaela stopped him.
"One more thing," she murmured, before gently pressing her lips against Eduard's.
This kiss wasn't like Ivan's. Ivan kissed on his own terms, rough and wanting and without consideration of Eduard. If he, with alcohol on his breath and lust in his eyes, wanted to kiss Eduard, Eduard complied. It didn't matter to Ivan what he wanted- if Eduard wanted glasses intact and skin bruiseless, Eduard complied. Almost every gesture of love made since he moved into Eduard's house was just a way of escaping a beating.
This kiss, though, this kiss was quick and gentle and sweet and loving. This wasn't Michaela's kiss. This was their kiss. Her lips felt soft for the fraction of a second that they were up against his, and he found himself kissing back. Time stopped. He forgot Ivan, forgot everything. In that moment, short as it was, all that existed was Michaela.
She pulled away and Eduard stood in stunned silence. It had been nothing extravagant, a simple peck on the lips, and yet Eduard decided that had been the best kiss of his life. Behind his blank expression, he was screaming in happiness and confusion.
"Chaela…"
"Jesus fuck, Ivan's going to kill us, isn't he?"
—
"Ivan,
I'm leaving you. Don't tell me I'll never find anyone better, because I already have. Don't call me. Don't try to get me back. I'm not your little plaything anymore. If you're not out of my house with all of your shit by tomorrow I'm calling the police on you and selling the lot.
Eduard (not your sunflower)"
Eduard read through it again. Was the "not your sunflower" bit over the top? Nah. After changing the font four or five times, he printed it out and Sellotaped it to the TV screen where Ivan was sure to see it and left for Michaela's house to avoid him until his deadline. He knew she'd be proud of him. For the first time in far too long, he was proud of himself too.