Rated for swearing. First Hetalia fic. Bold is Liet's reflections, Italics are scenes he's remembering.
Best Friends Forever
We're best friends.
Or…are we? We used to be. We used to do everything together, but circumstance tore me away from him. Now I'm finally free from that crazy sadist, and I've been helped back onto my feet while he could do nothing but stand back and hope. Nothing is the same as it used to be. But we're still best friends.
But sometimes I want to kill him.
He is irrelevant, preposterous, and completely obnoxious. He always has to get his way and he thinks nobody will say "no" to him.
"What the fuck is this?"
"God, Liet, I like, really don't know?"
"I saved up for that car! And now I can't drive it…why…? Because it's been painted bright pink!"
"I like, have no idea what the flip you're on about."
"Then why, pray tell, does it say "Poland wuz here!" on it?"
"Hee hee! You, like, totally got me."
Still, we've always been best friends. But I sometimes I want to…
It's three hours and two martinis too late for him. He is walking on his own, but he's giddy and not too steady. I sigh to myself, finally reaching out to grab him by the arm. My friend never knows his limits, and I am was always the one waiting behind him to pick up the pieces when he finally breaks, to buy him Advil for his hangover and tell him, "No, it's OK. You can wear that dress to the UN conference. No one will mind."
"That guy can, like, really hold his liquor…I should, like, totally know not to, like, challenge America!"
"Shh, Poland. We're almost home."
I put him to bed with a glass of water by the bedside and his favorite stuffed pony. I know he'll be alright when I check up on him in the morning, but somehow it doesn't seem right to leave him vulnerable, alone that huge house all by himself. Ha! A sleepover! Just like when we were little kids – his hair is too long, always sweeping across the pillow to tickle my face while I sleep. Still the same fidgety Poland, bothering me all night long.
This isn't a child's sleepover after all – of course not. I was a fool. His chest rises and falls under our shared blanket but his little sighs carry alcohol. Somehow his squirmy kicks carry his body too close to mine, his leg thrown over my body like it's no big deal. It should be. But it is – that's exactly the problem. His leg presses into my hip and it's all I can do to keep my breathing steady, his hand on my shoulder and his fine hair fluttering against my face in the regular gusts of his sleeping breath. And he's asleep! Intoxicated! My best friend! I am a fool.
"Poland?" I whisper. Somehow my face has gotten awfully close to his. I can see the glimmer of moonlight over his hair, his brows, his mouth. It must be inevitable, this gravity that is pulling me in…
"You do know I'm, like, totally not asleep?" His wide green eyes snap open with a mischievous spark dancing in them.
I nearly fall off the bed I've backed up so fast. "FUCK!"
You think I just trailed off back there, don't you? You think I didn't finish my sentence. But surprise, surprise, I did.
So. Is that friendship?
A/N:
If you got that last sentence, please mention it in a review! I want to know if you guys get the joke I was going for.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
In APH, everything is canon
But I don't own it, boo-hoo