And here we are with a brand new fic! I hope that y'all like it. It'll definitely be better than my previous attempts at Hetalia, I promise.
I know the first part isn't all that great, but it gets better, I promise :)

NOTE: Polish words in italics, explanations in bold.

EDIT: As of 6/26/13, this fic has been subject to a sweeping rewrite. Check it out to see what's changed!


You know what? In retrospect, I've been blind and selfish. Bit of an idiot, too.
Although I'd never, like, admit that to anyone.

You're all probably wondering what I'm, like, talking about, aren't you?
I'm talking about annexing Wilno- I mean, Vilnius. Jesus, I'm tired.

Okay, so maybe I didn't really, like, think it through. Perhaps I thought that the Lithuanians there were mistreating my people. Maybe I'd gotten a little greedy, or been given some, like, really bad advice.
But most of all, I never really stopped to look at it from Liet's point of view. I thought he was totally overreacting. I mean, like, okay, perhaps his best friend had just invaded him, but that had been years ago- and besides. That's what nations DO!

But that's, like, totally off subject. What I'm trying to say here is that I hadn't imagined how I'd have felt if Liet had suddenly turned on me and taken over my beautiful Warszawa- Warsaw, and what's more, refused to return it, knowing that he overpowered me, like, dziesięć do jednego. Ten to one.
But he didn't- I did. And if I'd have stopped to look at it like that for just a second before now, I'd have seen that. God, I just don't know how…

We were at odds for a long time afterwards. Like a hundred years, more or less. I lost count. For a nation, I suppose that isn't, like, all that long, but imagine a lot of furious tension between you and your best friend, and multiply that by the fact that you had just taken a beloved possession of theirs, then add that to the fact that you had brutally beaten him up when he tried to take it back, and you get, like, about one tenth of what was going on between us.

And finally, some years ago, at an international conference, I'd proposed peace to him. You know, like a "what's past is past, let's be allies again" sort of deal? Like that, yeah. And looking back, I finally understand all the changing emotions that flashed across his face at the moment when I asked him to sign it.
Anger, confusion, hurt, sadness, and betrayal all flew by in, like, a split second. I hadn't really paid attention to anyone but myself when that was happening, so I didn't really notice them. Idiota. How could I have even suggested it? I must have been, like, blind or something.

I guess I wasn't, like, really surprised that we didn't go back to more than a political neutrality (like, "I don't try to take you over again, you don't attack me"). I was convinced he was overreacting. When as a matter of fact, he had every right to hate me for the rest of his life.
But I, playing the fool as usual, decided to give him some time. To, like, think over it, y'know? And then we'd be back to normal again.
Little did I know that that would be the last time I saw him.

I mean, we'd sort of kept in touch (like, telephones and all), but not really. It was really only official business. And only if we had to.
All the greater was my surprise when at yesterday's meeting, everyone was asking me about where he was and everything. I mean, he wasn't there. I assumed he was sick or something, or something had cropped up with the former USSR because, like, none of them showed (except me).

I had shrugged it off then, you know? Isn't really any of my business what Russia and the others did anymore. It's not like he can hurt anyone any longer. Those days are long gone.

But tonight, I'd called Liet to ask if everything was cool. Nobody answered, not even when I called the other Baltics. I even, like, tried Ukraine… I haven't heard from Kasia in ages, either… but nothing. No reply.
So I started to think, and I realized why he was, like, avoiding me. Jesus! I can't believe how I could have blinded myself to him for so long.

It's, like, around two in the morning now. I can't be sure because the last time America came over, he adjusted all the clocks in my house to US time and I'm, like, too tired to add seven every time I try to read the time. And he even somehow managed to change it to a 12-hour display!
He even got into my cell phone somehow!
…I bet the idiota
did it on purpose, just to tick me off.
*Note to self- get Netherlands to fix them for me next time I see him.

But I think it's, like, four-ish, and I can't sleep because my mind won't stop mulling everything over.
Jezus, Maria, I was an idiot not to see what I was doing to Liet. I left him a message telling him to call me, but I really don't expect anything.
So I thought I'd, like, get this out of me. And here it is: I WAS WRONG. I admit it, okay? I. Was. Wrong. I hurt Liet and I'm sorry for it. But what can I do now…? Cholera


Poland closed his notebook and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He doubted whether anything he just wrote made any sense, or even if it was in English or Polish, but he just wanted to get everything off his chest. He had never really had anyone to confide in, and especially not since he had alienated Liet. And writing it out in a journal was supposed to help, but in reality, it only made him feel more alone.
The large, lazy flakes of January snow calmly floating to the ground outside his bedroom window weren't helping his mood in the slightest. In his mind, they seemed to be mocking him in their silent, slow way. At least they were in good company.
He had to be tired if even the snow was mocking him.

Out of instinct, not hope, he checked his cell phone for any calls or messages.
Nic. Nada. Nothing. Not even a blip. What nation in their right mind was up at this hour?
Probably America. All his clocks read 8:00 PM.
20:00, he mentally translated. Add seven- no, that's 27.

What crossed his mind next could only be proof of his sleep deprivation.
27? There's not even, like, that many hours in a day. I've gotta be doing this wrong. I'll call America when the sun comes up.
The fact that it would be 1:00 AM on the changed clocks when it did could only be considered a fitting revenge. One that would normally have given him a fair amount of satisfaction, but now, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Resigned, the Pole fell back onto his bed crosswise and hid his head under his pillow, muffling a groan.
"Ała…" he mumbled, picking up the notebook and tossing it to the floor before repeating the maneuver, this time managing to remain in this position for all of thirty seconds.

He was this time disturbed by a sharp ringing noise.
"Co, do…" ("What in the name of…")

Assuming that it was his alarm, he dragged himself out of bed once more to press the snooze button, muttering curses worthy of Romano in America's general direction. He hit it twice before realizing that it was the doorbell. It was now joined by a desperate knocking.
Who, at this hour…? I mean, besides me…

"Idę, już, idę!" ("I'm coming, already! I'm coming!") He shouted ahead in his native language, walking down the stairs at the very fastest pace he could manage without tripping and demolishing half the place.

When he finally made his way to the entrance, he found himself face-to-face with nobody else but a terrified boy- whom he didn't know personally but recognized as Latvia- who burst into tears as soon as he opened the door.