Disclaimer: *Sad fAce*
I got the idea from YakuzaKuroi's deviantart photo with Poland and Lithuania. Check it out!
-x-
At first, it was just pounding on the door, almost like someone throwing rocks at the wood. Poland sighed and turned the pages in his magazine, tucking a stray streak of blonde hair behind his ear. Surely-to Poland-the article on how to raise foreign ponies was indeed, much more important than a meager knock. He sighed again as the pounding continued, the bothersome noise mixing with the crackling of fire in the mantle.
"Amadei," Poland groaned. "Can you, like, the door. Who ever's ringing is like, totally, annoying." His Polish servent was spralled across the floor in the kitchen.
"Mr. Poland! The floor's heated!" He shouted, placing his cheek against it.
"That's, totally awesome!" The nation yelled, flipping another page, letting the knock ramble on, not even bothering to scold his lazy citizen.
Only when the door broke down from its hinges did Poland look up.
Soldiers flooded the rose-pink room, throwing furniture, shattering glass, and smashing the paintings. All he could do was stare in horror at the villains who were ransacking his home. The fire burned the wood harder as shinned, black boots stomped by.
"Hey!" Amadei shouted as two men dragged him out by his shoulder sockets. Tossing him out the door as if he was trash, the soldier's continued violating the building. Poland was still sitting on the scarlet comfort chair when someone tipped it over, sending him flying out onto the floor, the tips of his hair nearly singed from the fireplace. That was when he noticed, the symbols patched on their upper arms. A blood red flag with a large white circle in the middle, and in that, a pattern made up of black lines splattered in the middle.
"Nazis," Poland whispered, fear lacing his voice. All of a sudden, everything was crystal clear. The faint taste of smoke...the feeling of a swelling black eye...the echo of the invadors...the panting of his breath...Nazis tearing down his own house, ripping the paint off walls and tearing the fabric of the chairs and love-seats.
Suddenly, Poland was shoved to the ground again, but this time, by the muzzle of a gun. He hissed a sharp intake of breath as he was thrown against the floor as a heaviness appered on his chest. It was Lithuania.
His face was covered in cuts and bruises, like an adult-version of child abuse and his eyes were tainted with fear and hatred. Lithuania's knees digged into his sides, making Poland gasp for air, and he shoved the muzzle at him again.
"Wh-what-"
"Shut up!" Lithuania barked, his voice cracking. Soldiers stomped by, ignoring the two nations on the ground. "Shut up, you bastard!" He slammed the gun's butt into his chest, making Poland hiss with pain. "This is the Axis's territory now!" Lithuania stabbed Poland's stomach again; his face contorted with pain as a few drops of blood trickled down Lithuania's face and plunged onto his shirt.
"Liet...you're, like, bleeding..."
Only then did the Lithuanian realize that the tears the Pollock shed were for him. Oh how Lithuania wanted to throw the gun on the floor and cradle his best friend in his arms like he did and apologize, crying into his shirt, but he knew the other Axises were watching him, very closely. What was worse, he wondered, beating up Poland himself or having Russia or Germany do it? Little did he know how much this would hurt both of them.
"Poland. Idiot. Shut the fuck up!" Lithuania shouted, trying not to scream. He hit Poland again, this time in the neck, sending it snapping backwards.
"L-Liet..." Poland stuttered, coughing blood onto the floor. "I don't recognize you..." A single tear dripped down his dirty and blood-streaked face. "Liet...I'm, like, sorry...for...what I did...to make you...hate me..." He sighed, closing his pale eyelids, his pulse barely a beat. "Ja jestem żałujące..." Poland's limp body trembled as it shuttered on the floor, all while Lithuania looked on in horror. His gun clacked as it crashed in the floor, his hands trembling viciously.
"Po...po...poland..." Lithuania choked, finally grasping on what he'd just done. He clawed at his face, his bloodcurdling scream echoing through the mansion. The Russian soliders threw one or two glances at the Lithuanian and Pollock, but most kept their focus on ransacking the house.
"Poland! Poland!" He screamed, heart-break lacing his voice. He scooped Poland's battered head in his arms and sobbed, his tears dripping onto Poland's cut cheekbones. "Man labai gaila, Lenkijoje! Man labai gaila, aš niekada norėjo pakenkti jums. Aš niekada negalėjo jūsų nekenčia, tai priešais. Aš tave myliu, Lenkija. Man patinka kaip jūs juokiatės, aš myliu savo balso, savo stilių, ir aš tave myliu už jus. Man labai gaila, Lenkijoje!" (I am so sorry, Poland! I am so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you. I could never hate you, it's the opposite acutally. I love you, Poland. I love the way you laugh, I love your voice, your style, and I love you for you. I am so sorry, Poland!) He cried in his native tongue, nuzzling the crotch of Poland's neck and shoulder. "I'm...so...so sorry..."
"Liet?" Poland coughed, blood trickling out of his mouth. "Kocham cię." He gave a sad, pitiful smile, before he leaned his head on Lithuania's heaving chest and closed his eyes. "I, like, love you too."
"Poland..." Lithuania shivered, cradling Poland's head gently. "I...I..." Just then, Poland's heart rate droped, as if had never even beat in the first place.
"Poland...Poland...Poland!" The seme cried out, watching his little uke die. "Poland...I'm sorry..." Just as Poland took his last breath.