Cross the bountries; throw aside beliefs; I don't need it; I only need you; I did this for you; why; why; why; only for you; they know nothing.
I know nothing.
I
Only
Know
You
And this
And now
But I thought that's all that mattered
You
You
Why
Why
WHY
{†}
The color matches the rye, he thought idly. There were still many differences, though; the rye would never be like silk, it could never glisten in the sunlight and shine like a thousand stars. It would never frame a pale face that he could never look upon for as long as he wanted.
The rye never had to be hurt for him to lightly touch it, carefully, carefully, not too hard because it would sting and make the forbidden fruit cry out in agony.
The rye would always be there, simple. It would never be forever crossed, never be banned from his touches by a few words that could never be overlooked because that was what they stood for.
{†}
Crosses held aloft in the space between two bodies aching to touch, to grace, to love. United they stood to spread that cross over Europe, already knowing they'd be tearing apart everything.
United, they were
Torn
{†}
Partitions hurt, the thought, but he loved them. They gave him an excuse to caress the back of his partner (of so much more, could be more, nothing is worse than want) and brush his hair tenderly. He'd ask where it hurt, and delicately pull off the armor.
They gave him an excuse to sleep wrapped around his slightly larger body, their hair touching, and breathe in the scent of linen and fields, having washed all the blood away.
{†}
Pages that they cannot pass are what they defend. Nothing matters. After all, they must set an example.
{†}
" I, like, can't stand this." Poland finally spat, ripping out the band that was holding back his hair. Lithuania looked up from the potatoes he was digging up, surprise apparent in his eyes.
"Hm?" he asked, putting down his spade and dusting his hands off. Poland glared at him for a moment, thin chest heaving in anger, before reaching his hand to his neck. He wrapped a finger around the cord decorating his neck and gave it a yank. A metal cross was jerked out from under the collar of his woven shirt.
It bounced in the sunlight, sending small suns spiraling across their garden.
"…Is your necklace too tight?" Lithuania asked blankly, looking at the cross and then averting his eyes to Poland's face.
"No. It separates me from what I want." The blonde nation growled, never letting his eyes leave Lithuania's face.
"Well… God comes first, right?" Asked the brunette, trying to pretend that he believed his own words.
"No, Toris. God is all-forgiving, right?" he asked.
"Um… right?" he replied.
"Well, then, he'll totally forgive me for this. I hope you will, too." Poland said breathlessly. Then, before Lithuania could even think, the blonde nation yanked on the black leather of the cord. It snapped, and the cross clattered to the ground. Poland paid it no mind, however.
He threw his arms around Lithuania and smashed their lips together. The brunette hadn't been expecting this, however, and the two toppled over into a pile of earth. Neither noticed nor cared, however; they were too busy making up for lost time, kissing like no tomorrow and tangling fingers in hair.
The usual feeling of dread when the two looked at each other was gone, replaced by something that could only be described as gold. Nothing had felt more right.
The summer sun beat down upon them as they parted, gasping in each other's air and letting their gazes melt into one another.
{†}
God would never prevent love.
Pages can be ripped.
Nothing
Can
Be
More
Perfect
[A/N: The Commonwealth was a Christian power. People never seem to put that into fanfiction.
Background music: Violet Hill/Life in Technicolor II by Coldplay.
/prepares for flames.]