More Like Me, Less Like You
Everybody has a dark side, but Raivis Galante is the last person you'd expect to go over the edge. Evil, psychopathic and twisted beyond recognition, he waits for Lithuania at the end of the world…
Dark!Latvia. PolLeit. Sort of relief from writing overly cheerful ABBC…
WARNINGS: Language, not the happiest thing ever written, overuse of the ellipsis... :)
Basically, for reasons that will be explained (if I can work out an update to this) Latvia has destroyed everything and he hates Lithuania the most. I don't know where this came from, but please give it a read!
Lithuania was standing at the end of the world – or rather, crouching, cradling Poland's head in his arms. Chaos reigned, and cities lay around him as rubble under a toxic sky. All the other nations; dead, dying, too weak to go on any longer. He could already hear a cacophony in his head beside his own thoughts and memories: the screams of his people, his country suffering the most.
Oh, the fucker had made sure of that.
The stench was appalling; rotten flesh, rats, the underlying sticky stink of his own unwashed body. How long had it been, since all this started? It couldn't be more than a year, but it felt like Lithuania had always been heading here. The final square. The last chapter. His whole a thousand years or more.
Twitching in his arms Poland was coughing something in spurts of blood, begging him hoarsely: "Please… Liet; please, j-j-just… kill m-me…"
But Lithuania couldn't.
The only thing he had left?
He wouldn't.
Fires blazed in the distance, each new shell tearing the country of Lithuania to pieces, but Toris was caught up in a more personal agony than the migraine their deaths were giving him. He just kept telling his lover, over and over; "It will be okay, you'll see, we'll get you to a hospital, we'll…"
"Hospital?" Poland mocked weakly, as if he was still trying to be funny or something. "Everyone's… like… dead, Liet. Dead!" His body twitched in a spasm of coughing, light draining steadily from his eyes, and Lithuania was a helpless observer, wiping the blood splatters with his sleeve. "Dead."
And now so was Poland.
In a panicked fumble, he tried everything he had learnt at Russia's to do with first aid. Checking the vital signs, hammering on the blonde's heart, breathing into his ruby-coated lips. Screaming desperate vows of love. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
How? How? How could his Feliks end up like this? After all he'd gone through in the Second World War, the pain of his country ripped in two… their old conquests together in which they fought side-by-side... how could this be the end?
The long-haired cross-dressing freak had gone, the nation that was so intense, so clingy, and so beautiful that he would knock the eldest Baltic off his feet. Whether it was doing housework under the iron curtain as they danced with mops; singing karaoke in a faded 1960's ballroom; or lying in bed entwined, breathless with no need to talk or act or look, just able to be…
He would never, ever, be there again.
It was like a hand was squeezing Lithuania's heart, wringing everything out of him, all those wasted years spent waiting for Poland to call back and being too afraid to make a move. He felt like he'd be here forever, that some other person was snapping Feliks's eyelids closed, some other person was raiding his backpack, and some other person was coming up with the next plan of escape between stabs of pure fire pain…
How? How? How could Toris end up like this? With nobody left: entirely alone, aching a little more with every passing second. As a nation, he could feel each person wail… Estera, a girl of only thirteen, burning inside out whilst trying to save her little brothers… Petras, a tough old Vilnius tramp who'd seen both wars from his bench, but was finally defeated by this… families; businessmen; doctors and drug addicts - he even felt his bloody useless boss die.
He collapsed beside his Poland, holding him in his arms, mourning everyone and feeling his old scars split…
A small voice interrupted Lithuania's paralysis of grief.
"Sveiki, Toris! So here we are," it crooned, not a stammer to be heard. "The endgame. In which I… have… destroyed… you."
Lithuania, weary, so sick of the torment he was under, managed to rise to his knees, and turned only his neck to look up at the boy.
He wondered if he'd have an answer, some pleading remark to try and make Latvia see sense, as he'd had every other time since that fateful first day.
There was nothing. Poland lay still warm on the heat-cracked asphalt, his blood-coated kisses one final gift.
The last child in Lithuania stumbled over corpses onto an unexploded bomb.
Toris, finally, howled.
Well, not so original, but maybe it'll get better. I don't know if I'll update this? I just couldn't get the idea of a very different Latvia out of my head, and I needed to write him because he kept being OOCishly awful to Sealand in ABBC - he's such a villain in my head now! I'd be grateful if you'd review and tell me what you think though!
sveiki - Latvian, hi