Hi! It's me, that crazy author, the kitty of spazz! Updates are coming slowly for me ficwise, but oddly enough this little drabble popped out. Random shameless plug: Please go check out my collab with xcorkx under her fics- it's quite funny and a parody of Hercules! This oneshot is dedicated to mah special and crazy friend Emo-Pop (Emolollipop), who is such a RussiaLiet fan, she's kinda made me one as well XD I hope you like it! I don't own Hetalia, by the way!
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Looking Back
Love. The word means different things to different people, but to Belarus it has always and will always be the tall, violet-eyed blonde with a warm red scarf. Belarus loves Russia with all her heart, with all her soul. He means more to her than anything in the world, and she loves all parts of him.
She loves his smile, be it a content grin or a maniacal smirk. She loves him whether he is gazing out a window, fondly looking at the new fallen snow, or if he is in the heat of battle, beaming angelically, soaked in the splattered red of his enemies' blood. Her earliest memory is of Russia, of his strong embrace as she wept noisily into his shoulder, of him cleaning the wounds she had gotten from her earliest battle. She will die for Russia. She will kill for him. Russia is her everything.
Belarus' heart belongs completely to Russia, but she knows that Russia's heart belongs to someone else. Nobody knows her darling Russia better than Belarus does, so she can tell he longs for the companionship of someone other than her. She can see it in the looks he directs towards Lithuania. The way he stares at the other boy. Others simply chalk it up to fury or madness, but Belarus knows better that that- she knows HIM better than that. She can see, beneath the glare, a wistful, longing look in her brother's eyes. She alone can see the fondness in his stare. It infuriates her. Even now he comes up to her with his bright smile, dripping with false innocence.
"Lithuania left for America," he says casually. Belarus grits her teeth as she sees the forlorn loneliness thinly veiled behind his eyes. She wants to shriek, sob, yell at him. 'Why do you care so much about him? Stop looking at him. Look at me! I love you more than him. I always have. I love you so much it hurts, so look at me! Please…' But she clamps her lips together to stop the words from stumbling out, because she knows what will happen if she says this to him and she can't bear to see the rejection in his eyes again. So she forces a smile on her face, no matter how much it hurts her to do so.
"Don't worry, brother. Lithuania will come back. He always has and he always will." Russia nods, relieved, and Belarus wants to cry out in despair. But she knows it doesn't matter, that it won't help with anything. Because Russia's eyes are fixed forward, towards his Lithuania, towards his sun, his bright, warm future. Behind him, knee-deep in snow and loneliness in Belarus, reaching out her hand towards him, calling his name ceaselessly, longing for his smile which is all the sun she'll ever need. But he keeps his eyes forward. And she knows he'll never look back at her.