September, 1939

Trailing a finger down the foggy glass, a pair of wary blue eyes peered down into the still dark street. Following the lines of men who marched along the road, his ears picked up the curt shouts of Russian, only understanding a few words. The loud voices rang out, echoing down the streets and resonating between the many homes on the Vilnius street. An unsettling chill had settled upon the boy's skin, goosebumps ran up his arms, he tapped the pads of his fingers silently on the stile of the window to occupy himself. His heart felt as if it was afraid to beat, fluttering in his chest, his breath shaky and paced. Abruptly, he halted his tapping when he saw two men, who stood with such confidence, the boy knew, knew, they had authority. His breath caught in his throat as he saw one raise an arm and point at the house in which he resided, but what he said was obscured by the sound of marching soldiers. The Red Army had arrived, prepared.

When finally the men continued walking on, the boy allowed himself to breath, and placed his shaking hands in his lap. Running his thumbs over his knuckles subconsciously, he squinted his eyes, wishing that the sun would rise faster, to allow him to see the men marching through the streets below.

"Raivis, come away from the window," a low voice murmured as a hand was set firmly on the younger boy's shoulder. The boy jolted, a sharp gasp escaped his mouth as he whipped his head around. He soon found quiet relief as his eyes fell upon the brunette man behind him, and he sighed shakily.

"I want to watch, though..." Raivis said, turning his head back to the window with a pained expression upon his face. "My parents, do you think they're okay? Have the Russians entered Latvia?" Raivis looked back and watched as the solemn expression laid upon his cousin's face faded into one of worry, of pity for his younger relative. The brunette man clutched the blonde's shoulder, then released him and sighed deeply.

"We're listening to the radio upstairs. Come, there might be new from Latvia," the man urged, hoping to get the boy away from the window; he didn't know why, but he could feel a heavy weight in his stomach, a dread filling him all too quickly for it to be the anti-Russian sentiment he'd grown up with. Perhaps it was the instinct his parents had planted in him from a young age. He was suspicious, he always was...he had to be, for his sake, for his parent's sake. And now, he had to be, for everyone he knew- but especially, for the boy that sat before him, far from his home. But now, he'd caught Raivis' attention, and he saw the boy standing up; relief filled the man's chest, and he followed after the boy who was intent on getting to the room where the radio lie.

This was the household of the Laurinaitis'. Toris, the eldest, and only, son, was living with his parents while he attended college. The younger, Raivis Ganiņš, was his cousin. For a while though, Toris hadn't believed that the young, short boy his parents invited over every so often was even related to them. When they'd first met, five years ago, give or take, Toris had disliked the boy. Raivis had been ten, Toris sixteen, and to say the least, they didn't get along. Sometimes, his cousin stayed with him up to a month, but Raivis was a quiet boy with too much curiosity for his own good, and Toris from the very beginning, wanted Raivis out of their household. The boy didn't seem to like Toris either, but it was the brunette boy who'd been forced to keep him company, and most of all, keep him out of trouble. Raivis wanted to explode the house constantly, to have Toris take him outside to the park, and to use Toris as a shield whenever the easily frightened child got scared of someone. But Toris' parents insisted the boy was related to him, that he had a responsibility over the child.

Toris didn't realize at the time why his parents really wanted him to befriend the boy.

For a long time, probably before Toris had been born, his parents had worked at various hospitals and clinics in the Lithuanian city of Šiauliai. They'd been embezzling money for a long time, and Toris knew, he knew, that was how the Laurinaitis family had managed to live as cushy a life as they had. This was something he had always known...but he never knew about the Ganiņš', his 'family' to the north. Raivis' parents, just as his own, had long since been up to their elbows in crime and fraud. Toris had only met Raivis' parents once during Hanukkah, and once when they visited Lithuania with Raivis. He wasn't exactly sure just what Raivis' parents did, no, but he did know, somehow it had to do with his parents, and he couldn't force away the child both sets of guardians had put under his responsibility. Toris had hated this responsibility when first given in- still in school, emersing himself in his studies became difficult when he had to care for the Latvian boy, who spoke broken Lithuanian. Now, watching the boy, still young and small for his age, climb hastily up the stairs, Toris remembered the time he'd abandoned his cousin at a park, to get a few hours of relief from him. Toris looked upon the shoulders, the shoulders that'd begun to grow a bit broader, and remembered the time he'd returned to the park only to find his small cousin missing. Toris watched as his cousin took lead and turned the polished doorknob into the upstairs bedroom, and recalled himself running from one end of the park to another, growing more frenetic when he saw neither head nor foot of the boy.

Toris thought back to finding his cousin, swollen faced, sniffling upon the steps of Toris' abode, so small against the brown lacquer door. He remembered the panic in the child's face when Toris had thrust open the agape gates, letting them clatter loudly against the fencing, and he remembered most of all, the tears that filled the boy's eyes when Toris dropped to his knees and embraced him.

But now, Toris saw the still growing boy take his place in the near silent room, listening intently to the scratchy murmur of the radio. He saw blue eyes fall intently on the radio, as if staring at it would bring forth more news, the news he wanted to hear. Toris knew Raivis had his ears strained, his mind processing the Russian language that poured out, translating what he could. Toris didn't miss the twitch of frustration in Raivis' brows, and he assumed, because he couldn't understand what was being said. But the boy knew better than to speak just yet, despite his infamy for letting his mouth do his thinking. Toris saw the slow clenching of Raivis' fist, and stepped forward to stand next to him. Outside his opulent house, marching drummed with a foreboding rhythm, sound penetrating the walls.

From this, Toris knew, as if given to him through revelation, that ahead of him, a new story was about to unfold. A new chapter in his life, as a wise woman once told him, was going to begin.

The boy he now stood aside was going to take reign of that story.


Hello, thank you for reading this! This is not my first fic, however, it is my first of it's kind. I would love any criticism and feedback. Thank you!