I miss you.
Toris sighed for the umpteenth time, ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the innocent little slip of paper he had found earlier, neatly tucked into his briefcase. The message was in Lithuanian, written in pen (a fountain, if Toris was any judge) on a neat square of plain white paper. The handwriting was overly careful, each letter slowly shaped by a hand unused to writing in that language.
There was nothing extraordinary about the little letter (if a single line could be called a letter), but there was no question who it was from. There were only so many people Toris knew who would try to seriously communicate by passing notes like human teenagers. Alfred might, but he would have written in English, probably on a brightly colored post-it note. Felix wasn't an unlikely candidate either, but his note would have been on the bright pink stationary Toris gave him for his birthday, most likely in Polish and with little doodles in the margin. Who else, then? Raivis? His penmanship was so shaky it was almost illegible. Eduard? He would have just sent an email.
No, there was only one logical answer. It had to be from Ivan. The trouble was, he didn't have a good answer for why. Ivan was rarely indirect when he wanted something.
He waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Well, one thing did. Ivan had started to ignore him at meetings. Before, Toris would catch him staring almost constantly, only looking away bashfully when he saw Toris had noticed. But then Toris would look away for a second and as soon as he glanced back, Ivan was staring again. It never went further than that. Neither ever spoke to each other after meetings, or tried to communicate in any way. There were only looks across a conference table. But now even that had stopped. Ivan was very deliberately not staring at Toris, keeping his eyes anywhere else and focusing on whoever was speaking with a kind of rigid intensity (except, of course, when the speaker was Toris. Then he would suddenly find a spot on the far wall very interesting, or start playing Tetris on his phone, or fold paper airplanes out of important documents and send them flying in Alfred's direction.)
Ivan seemed determined to avoid Toris now, so the Baltic country followed suit and tried to put the strange incident out of his mind...until a week later, when a second note appeared in Toris' briefcase:
I'm lonely.
This note was almost exactly the same as the first, except written in ballpoint pen this time, and in a slightly less steady hand.
It was almost easier when Ivan would demand something. You either obeyed him or you didn't. But what did you do with something like this? Of course Ivan was lonely. Toris didn't need the note to know that. Ivan didn't like being alone. He never had, not in all the long years Toris had known him.
It had been difficult for Ivan to lose all the members of his unwilling 'family.' Toris had been the first to leave, and he could still remember it all too well...
...He could remember Ivan sitting behind his desk, hands folded, smiling brittlely.
"You want to leave me so badly, da?"
It was difficult to not look away, but Toris held his gaze. He had waited too long, worked too hard to lose his nerve now.
"I do," he agreed. And he did. This was no life, not for him or his people. They all deserved more than this, so much more. This was no life, not even for Ivan. How happy could he ever be, surrounded by people he could only keep near through force and fear?
But Toris couldn't explain that to Ivan. The larger country would only see this as an act of betrayal now. Sure enough, the brittle smile quivered and threatened to break, rage and anguish warring behind his eyes.
"If that...if that is what you want...if you hate it here so much...hate me so much..." Ivan's hand curled around the neck of an empty vodka bottle on his desk and stood unsteadily. Toris took a breath, searching vainly for the right thing to say now, but he didn't have a chance before Ivan hurled the bottle at him. It shattered against the wall, missing Toris' left ear by a foot.
"THEN LEAVE!" Ivan bellowed, shaking so violently that Toris was glad there were no more projectiles within his reach. The vodka bottle had missed Toris, whether or not Ivan had meant it to, but there was no guarantee that the next thing Ivan threw wouldn't hit its mark. There was never any reasoning with Ivan when he was in this kind of black temper.
The outburst from the taller country only strengthened Toris' resolve. He had to leave. He would leave. He would be free, from this life of servitude and the madness that threatened to suffocate Ivan and everyone who dared to get close to him.
"Goodbye," Toris said, looking Ivan firmly in the eye again, keeping his voice steady and strong. "I won't be coming back here again."
He didn't run. Criminals ran. The frightened ran. The defeated ran. Toris wasn't a criminal and he wasn't frightened or defeated. He walked out the door with a steady, deliberate pace and his head held up. He was out in the hallway beyond Ivan's office when he heard a racking sob behind him, and had to force his feet to keep moving, fighting that first instinct to go back to the broken man he left behind...
Toris blinked down at the letter, letting the past fade back into his memory. He was independent now. He was free. Things were better now, so much better for everyone. And yet, Ivan was still lonely...
The third message came a few days after that:
I want to see you.
The latest note was written in pencil, with a few disjointed, wobbly lines where Ivan had broken the lead by pressing down too hard and had to reshape his fractured letters.
Well, there is was. No more beating around the bush. Ivan had finally expressed what he wanted. Now it was up to Toris whether or not to respond.
At first he thought no. The years when he had lived under the USSR had been some of the worst in his life. Why would he want to go back to the man who caused him so much suffering? It was easier to just remember Ivan as a monster. It was easier to just remember him lashing out in a fit of rage and paranoia, to remember the punishments, the Russification, the cruelty... If Ivan was a monster it would be easy to ignore his letters. Who could have any compassion or love for a monster?
But Ivan wasn't a monster. A monster wouldn't leave bunches of sunflowers in Toris' room when they were in full bloom (his favorites, his most treasured, only for Toris.) A monster wouldn't come to Toris' side after the punishments and apologize over and over with voice and eyes full of tears (because he hates to hurt his Toris, he hates it so much, but he has to do it when Toris is bad, da?) A monster wouldn't open his heart to Toris like Ivan did, wouldn't depend on him and need him, wouldn't look at him and smile like there was no one else in the world, like no one else mattered at all...
Ivan missed him. Ivan was lonely. Ivan wanted to see him. And Toris, against his better judgment, still cared for that strange, difficult country. There was no decision to make.
Ivan was still avoiding Toris' eyes at the next meeting. Toris tried to speak to him a few times, but Ivan didn't seem to hear him. Finally Ludwig called for a break and Toris, fed up with this awkward game, decided on a more direct approach. He followed Ivan out into the hallway, and when there was no one nearby to eavesdrop, tapped the larger country on the shoulder. Ivan turned around with his usual empty smile, and froze when he saw who was behind him. The smile fled, his eyes dropped to the floor and his face turned white, then pink.
"Good...um, good afternoon, Ivan," Toris said, feeling his own courage waver a shade.
"Afternoon, Toris," Ivan said to his shoes, fiddling with the ends of his scarf restlessly. "Did you want to talk to me?"
"Y-yes. I wanted to ask you about something. I've been trying to talk to you all day, but you-"
"O-oh, have you? I didn't notice at all. I-I am so very busy these days, you know."
"Of course, but...maybe you can answer something for me now?"
Ivan's eyes came up curiously as Toris fumbled for the three notes, tucked safely in his pocket. He held them up to the taller country, whose face went from pink to dark red.
"Oh," Ivan whispered, and his eyes went back to the floor again.
"These are from you, aren't they?"
"They...those..."
"They're in your handwriting, even if you did write in Lithuanian. I-I've dealt with enough of your paperwork to know how you write."
"Oh," Ivan said again, and forced a sheepish laugh. "Toris is too clever. He found me out."
There was an uncomfortable pause while Toris waited for Ivan to say more. But the larger country didn't speak; he just kept playing with his scarf and chewing on his lower lip nervously.
"You could have just asked me," Toris sighed in exasperation. "If you wanted to see me that badly. You could have just said something."
"Nyet," Ivan mumbled sadly. "Because Toris doesn't want to be with me anymore. You said so, when you left. Y-you would probably be happier if you never saw me again, da?"
"Why did you write those letters, then? If you were so sure of that..."
"I wanted to try, da? Maybe something good would happen. And writing letters, it's less scary than talking." Another miserable little laugh. "But it was silly to try, da? I was foolish. You may laugh at me, Toris. I won't be angry."
Toris sighed heavily and tucked the notes away. "Where do you want to go?"
Ivan's eyes flickered up shyly once more. "Go?"
"Y-you said you wanted to see me. I assumed you...wanted to go on a date or something."
The way Ivan's jaw dropped would have been funny if the whole situation hadn't been so sad. He never imagined Toris would agree to spend time with him. He expected to be turned down, rejected, abandoned, just like always.
"You...you want to...b-be with me again?" Ivan said faintly.
"Not like we used to be," Toris said firmly. "I'm not going to be your servant again. I won't be...'one with you.' I-I'm independent, and part of being independent means I get to decide who I spend my time with. And I can choose to spend it with you. So if...if you want to, we can...be together for a while. As equals."
Ivan's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he finally found his voice again. "D-da, I would...I want to. Very much."
"Good," Toris said, smiling and pretending not to notice how Ivan was suddenly blinking suspiciously fast or how his mouth trembled slightly. "Where did you want to go?"
"I-I hadn't..." Ivan paused, sniffed, and brought himself back under control. "I hadn't thought that far. I was not expecting a 'yes,' you understand. And Toris should get to decide, da? That would be fair."
"Well...how about ice skating? We could go ice skating together."
Ivan finally smiled, lighting up like the sun, like a field of his beloved sunflowers. "I love ice skating! Where should we go? Somewhere at Toris' house, da? I want to go to your house! And I will be very good and not invade you. Unless...you want to be invaded?"
Ivan paused, waiting. Toris just stared blankly.
"Ah, that was a joke! Only a joke!"
Ivan stopped again, maybe waiting for a laugh. Toris still said nothing.
"B-but it wasn't a very funny joke, da?" he laughed awkwardly. "I am not very good at jokes. B-but I am good at ice skating!"
"Then maybe you can give me some lessons?" Toris asked, trying to ignore the talk of invasion. "The Olympics are coming up, and I need some practice."
"Of course!" Ivan said brightly, grabbing Toris' hand with childlike eagerness. "I can teach you everything! I'll make sure you get a gold medal! ...Unless of course you are competing against me. I can't let you win, Toris. I take the Olympics very seriously."
"I-I figured you did," Toris said faintly. Ivan was squeezing his hands painfully tight. "Th-then...maybe we can find a skating rink at my house...sometime next week?"
"Next week!" Ivan agreed happily, squeezing even tighter and failing to notice how Toris winced. "I will call you later to decide when and where, da?"
"R-right. We can talk later. A-and you can let go of my hands now, Ivan."
Ivan looked down at their clasped hands, and reluctantly loosened his grip. He seemed to have something more to say; color was rising in his cheeks again and he kept opening his mouth slightly and shutting it again.
"Yes?" Toris prompted gently, trying to put the giant at ease. "Do you need something?"
"M-may I hold you?" Ivan asked shyly, tugging nervously on his scarf again. "Just for a second? It...it has been a very long time, and I...I..."
Toris moved without even thinking. It seemed so easy, so natural, so close the space between them with two short steps and wrap his arms around Ivan. He leaned an ear against Ivan's chest, listening to the racing heartbeat within as Ivan slowly returned the embrace, holding his arms rigidly around Toris, so careful to not squeeze too tightly.
"I have missed you," Ivan whispered unsteadily, and Toris felt the taller country's breath hitch. "I have...missed you so much."
"I missed you too," Toris murmured. He felt Ivan's arms tighten around him, heard another sniffle overhead, and realized that he wasn't lying at all.