A/N: Based on episode 29. I have no excuse. No, none.
Rated for angst and Baltic bed-sharing.
The Baltic States spend their days ignoring each other. Their life – if you can assign that name to what they have – is one of fabricated ignorance.
They pass in the chilly hallways of Russia's house and refuse to meet each other's eyes; snap quietly at each other and pretend they don't recognize the pain on each other's faces. Lithuania begs silently for help correcting some verbal mistake and the others press their lips together and back away instead. Latvia screams under Russia's gripping hands and Estonia only glances at the clock or makes some inane comment, and the voice inside him that screams right along with his fellow country goes unheard for another day.
Every day comes to an end, and after nightfall they can't ignore each other any longer. Not when they have to squeeze together into one narrow room with discolored walls and a single bed. The arrangement was first casually laid out by Russia, and was therefore mandatory. It has been years since then, though, and Russia likely wouldn't notice if his pet nations started sleeping separately.
They haven't. They don't even consider it. Oh, they all dream of being alone … but not here. None of them would ever want to spend a night alone in this house.
So they meet in their shared room that is too small and too cold, or maybe just feels that way because three such pathetic souls are living in it.
They don't smile at each other. Smiles come with threats and deceptive, grinding fingers.
They speak only a little, and even then only in fragments. Too much of their time has been spent paying for some wrong word or accidental comment.
They don't cry, either, although sometimes little Latvia whimpers in pain.
One of them is always worse off than the rest, so the other two wrap their arms around him and all three huddle close together until they fall asleep.
And they lie there in the dark, and feel each other shiver.
It would be nice, if they could apply to themselves that old adage that together, they can be strong. But each one knows that to be a lie. If they could be strong together, they would have done it by now – escaped, and then gone their separate ways. They wouldn't have to curl up against each other, night after night.
And so they know themselves to be weak, together or apart – because even together, all they can do is lie shivering in the dark.
But together they are strong enough to survive, and that counts for something.