Hello! Cherry here. Another story? I know, I know. This was written for a writing challenge(that I sadly lost). It's a songfic, although the song is written into the plot itself. Cookies for anybody who can guess the song XD I tweaked the story a bit to fit Hetalia. Enjoy! Also, Ausra is Nyo! Lithuania.
ears streamed down her cheeks.
Don't do it! Don't do it!
But it was much too late for Feliks to back down.
Even now, as he took step after step, he berated himself, green eyes examining the floor as if he was actually interested in the exotic pattern of the carpet.
"I'm sorry, Ausra..."
"...But this just isn't working."
Ausra looked absolutely heartbroken, and Feliks could not meet her eyes. Her dark, fiery green eyes, that shone with tears. He couldn't even focus on her hair, her perfect hair, braided in a long, brown chain down her shoulder.
How had this happened? How had he allowed such fear to overtake him?
The night had started out perfect, beautiful. It was prom, after all.
I felt so unsure as I took her hand, leading her to the dance floor.
"Wow..." She breathed, looking at me with those adorable eyes.
"Isn't this lovely?" I joked.
The first song of the night started to play, and I quickly spun her around, leading her in a dance I had learned in Spain.
But, as the music died, something in me started to rise. A feeling of uncertainty, a feeling of doubt. And, most importantly, that awful, awful image. The feeling called to mind a silver screen, and our last fight, all of the sad goodbyes we had shared.
Feliks wasn't sure what had led to him calling her out, excusing himself, blaming himself, and, in the process, dumping the one person he truly loved. But there was one thing he knew for sure.
I'm never going to dance again.
He knew that, even if they got back together, he wouldn't truly be able to dance. He would always remember this night, he would always remember his guilt, he would always lose his rhythm. And, though it was easy to forget, easy to push away the guilt, easy to push away the blame... Ausra wasn't stupid. She wasn't an idiot. She would remember, if he did not.
She was his friend, his best friend. He should've known. He should've listened. He shouldn't have gone off. He definitely shouldn't have cheated.
For he remembered, barely remembered, one night, after a particularly bad fight, he had fled to his brother's house. His brother had friends over. And... well, he hadn't been sorry for it at the moment, but he definitely was now.
He had wasted the chances he had been given, wasted the forgiveness Ausra had spared for him. That reason alone had him staring blankly at the floor as he walked away from her.
No, he wasn't ever going to dance again.
Because, he would always be remembered that he couldn't dance the same way he had danced with her.
One Year Later
Feliks hadn't expected to run into her again. But there she was, in all her glory. Standing in the grocery store, hand on her hip, eyes full of bitter resentment.
"Feliks Lukasiewicz!" She snapped, glaring at him, "What are you doing here?"
"I see time doesn't mend old wounds," Feliks attempted to joke, but he was quickly cut off by the angry brunette.
"Time can never replace the whispers of a good friend," She hissed in response.
"Ausra, I-"
"Save it for somebody who cares," She retorted, turning away, "And, by the way, I know about you and Lizzie. I guess that's why you left me, right?"
She didn't give him time to answer, though, quickly stomping off in the opposite direction; Feliks had never been so dumbfounded in his entire life.
That night, as he thinks over the encounter, he pulls out his black, spiral notebook and a simple, ballpoint pen.
To the heart and mind, he writes, Ignorance is blissful, kind, almost. It leaves you in a trance, not sure what's real, but knowing that what you have is pure. There isn't any comfort in the truth, in fact, it often leaves you breathless, but not in a good way. Pain is all you find, with the truth. Yes, remaining ignorant is better; after all, if you don't know what's going on, you can't stop the higher authorities, which, in turn, spares you pain.
Writing is the only thing that keeps him sane anymore. It's the only thing that allows him to hold on to any shred of humanity. And so he writes. He writes about anything, about what he feels, about what he thinks. It helps him to better process his thoughts, at least, that's what his brother says.
The music was far too loud. It was loud enough to send a chill running down my spine, creeping its way into my body, making my heart pound faster and harder in order to be heard.
I just wish I could've taken Ausra, and leave. Lose the crowd. But, then again, maybe it's better that we were in a crowded room. Maybe we won't fight. After all, what are fights, but ways to hurt each other with words when nobody is watching? I don't want to fight with her, but, no matter what, we hurt each other with the things we need to say.
We could've been such a good couple. We could've been the life of the party, the ones that everybody wished they were. We could've lived the dance, never fighting, just enjoying the other's presence.
Now...
Who is going to dance with me?
It's my fault.
I want you to stay.
Please stay.
Don't leave me.
Don't...
That night, Feliks Lukasiewicz died of a heart attack, due to constant anxiety.
His funeral was simple and plain, nothing too fancy. In fact, not a lot of people showed up.
His parents had disowned him after he had been suspended from his middle school. His brother, Ivan, had been taking care of him ever since.
Ivan was at the funeral. He wasn't crying, but he looked withdrawn, upset.
There was only one other person.
She wore a black coat, covering her curly locks of chocolate colored hair. Her eyes peeked out from under the hood, watching the burial with teary eyes.
She wished she had stayed with him.
She wished she had tried harder.
But, more importantly, she wished that she hadn't snapped at him.
I'm so sorry, Feliks.
Ausra Laurinaitis wiped a tear from her eyes, blinking hard to further stop her cries.
I will never dance again, I promise.