I don't own Hetalia.

It had been a long time since their last meeting.

Everything had changed. The world. He. He didn't even know how to speak to him anymore. Their first encounter had been dipped in awkward silence; just like the next ones. He didn't know how to answer the blond's questions and he had none to ask himself. To him, everything was obvious. Everything was over; the past no bore any importance. Ivan could no longer harm him; nor could the feminine nation.

But Feliks wanted his answers.

And on a December day, when deep snow had covered the roads and the nights were too chilly for his old car to start, Feliks offered him a sleep-over. He accepted, not having any seeing any other options. Even though he didn't really want to stay with the blond for such a long time; he feared what it might inspire in the nation, feared, what might happen if they stayed in the same room. Feared that he might try to fix him. Feared that everything may fall apart. Whatever was left.

That night, he woke up screaming. He couldn't remember what he had dreamed about; and he knew he didn't want to. He had startled Feliks, who was resting next to him; the boy gasped and his eyes blew open, bewildered, not able to see anything in the darkness. He still remembered that conversation; the conversation that ended everything.

"Liet-", the boy started, concern in his voice. He didn't even let him finish. He was too tired for this talk and he doubted that he'd ever be rested enough for it. He hid his face in his hands, rubbing his reddened eyes.

"It's fine, Feliks.", he said, "Nothing wrong, at all. Just a nightmare." Nothing new. He waited patiently for his heartbeat to calm down, ignoring the coolness of Feliks' hand on his sweaty skin. Ignoring the fact that the sweat on the bed sheets smelled and felt too much like blood.

"Liet, like, nothing is fine. You've totally been like this since you came back..from him."

It irritated him. The way he wasn't capable of saying his oppressor's name out loud. The way the boy's stare escaped his. Like nothing ever happened.

Like he actually felt guilty.

"I can deal with it myself, Feliks.", he said, an alarming note in his tone.

"Like, you can't, Toris. No one can."

"Don't call me that, Feliks.", he warned him.

The blonde's denial and disbelief didn't anger him. He was used to the boy's concern. But that name. It stirred a negative feeling within him, a feeling he wanted to leave behind. It brought too many memories, too much pain and made the scars on his back burn terribly, it made a vicious laughter replay in his mind, and his cheeks burn with humiliation.

Feliks' lips puckered into a pout and his fingers dug into a pillow before him.

"Why? Because you're like, totally closed-hearted? Because it reminds you of him?"

"Quit talking about him!", he finally snapped. "You didn't give a damn about "him" for two centuries, and now, you suddenly care!"

His aggressive shout made Feliks cringe into himself and look away, sorrow in his eyes. A silence filled the room, and for a second, he felt bad for losing his temper. The nation had done nothing wrong at all and yet, he took his anger out on him. Pathetic.

"I, like, always cared for you, Liet.", he whispered, hugging the pillow. "But you totally pushed me away."

When he had relived the moment later, he wished he had kept silent. But he couldn't, malice sinking into heart.

"I let you close and you betrayed me.", he simply stated, the wounded expression on Feliks' face satisfying him, "There was no reason for which I'd let you close again. There was no reason for which I wouldn't shoot in the face in '44. Or whenever it was."

"No, Liet. I, like, didn't leave you. You got it totally wrong. My people would have had, like, turned on me if I continued that war." Feliks voice was too silent, too uncertain, his arms embracing the pillow like a child would a teddy bear. And he, he couldn't believe it. Was it everything he meant to him? A political prisoner, a give-away to appease Ivan?

"That's no excuse for leaving friends! I trusted you! Even when I was sitting in that goddamn basement, starved, cold and violated, I still thought you'd come back for me! But you didn't! You never were there when it really mattered!" The roar bounced of the walls, his throat bleeding from its force.

„You weren't there when…when…"

He hadn't realized when the tears started leaking from his eyes.

"Liet…like, please don't cry…I'm sorry. I really am."

"Your apologies never mean anything.", an utter escaped his clenched teeth.

"Liet, please-" Feliks cupped his cheek.

He slapped his hand away. "No, don't touch me. It's over, Feliks. You made your decision. There is no going back."

He rushed out of the bed, not caring for Feliks' apologies. He slammed the door closed – and even though the sound of the boy's sobbing tore his heart apart, he knew there was no other truth.

It was over.

The wind, howling outside the window, reassured him of that.

The end