Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya

"Belarus!" a woman with a pale blond bobbed hairstyle sobbed. Said nation was looking around awkwardly as her sister smothered her in her abundant chest. She looked at her big brother, with pleading eyes. He understood and put a hand on Ukraine's shoulder, "I think she is fine."

Ukraine sniffled but she let the other go.

"I was so worried," the oldest of the three siblings said, "Ever since the incident."

An unspoken shiver went down all their spines. The incident being Russia's rejection of Belarus' last marriage proposal.

"Why did you not ask my boss?" she wondered looking up at the woman. The oldest sniffled again before she answered, "I did! I called to ask about you. Your boss said you were fine. That you did not wish to speak to anyone."

"And you did not ask further?"

"Bela…you know how you are…" Ukraine said softly. The words hurt the Belarusian, but only because she knew they were true. Ukraine was referring to her rejection of affection or concern of anybody who was not Russia…and her tendencies to hurt those people…physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"I know."

"Liet you have to get up," Poland said poking the lump on the bed, tangled in bed sheets. "You can't stay like this forever."

His only response was a brokenly mumbled, "Did you see how she looked at me?"

The man sighed, that was all brunette had been saying since Russia and Belarus had left. It really hit the other hard. He poked the other a few more times before he gave up, "Your food is on the nightstand."

When the blond came back to collect the dishes, all the food was still on them.

"You will be staying with me," Russia said as he lead his younger sister into his gigantic house.

"You live here alone," she said remembering one of the reasons she was so dedicated to her older brother, "You hate being alone."

"Da, I do," he said, "but you are here now."

Even as he said these words with sincerity and warmth, Belarus took notice of how he kept a certain amount of distance between them and would glance at the doors. He was still afraid of her, still distrusted her.

He still had not set foot out of his bedroom, the deep dark bedroom with the curtains drawn to keep all possible light out, while he was buried under many layers of blankets. Poland was extremely worried for the Lithuanian. He had not been eating, walking around, or...anything. He was getting anxious now.

Lonely and cold.

Those were the only words Belarus could use to describe living in Russia's house. She lay in a gigantic queen sized bed alone. The house was quiet, there was no sounds of a fire, or of the soft snoring of her Toris—Lithuania. Nothing.

The blond woman curled up into a ball and hugged a pillow to her chest. It…was very little comfort. Russia, while he said that he was going to make sure his little sister got better, was not around most of the time. From the sticky notes he left for her, she figured he spent more time running off to chase China and annoy America.

The thought ignited a spark of jealously in her, but it was extinguished before it could manifest into anything. It just fizzled out…

'The memories', the blond woman thought, 'They were supposed to turn me back into the old me.'

At least that was what she had expected. But the new memories she had made had overshadowed the old ones. She remembered the feelings, the thoughts that went through her head, but the newer, fresher, happier memories she made were making the old harder to grasp onto. The feelings were there but they were dull and stale. To test the extent of the damage, Belarus latched herself onto Russia one day (practically sending the larger nation into cardiac arrest) but the emotion she assumed the action would stir up did not happen.

'What has happened to me?'

It was a stupid question. She knew what changed, but her pride was too great to want to admit it.

Poland had finally, finally, gotten Lithuania out of his room. Although he had holed himself up in a new place, his office. Poland peaked into the room; Liet was still in there bent over the many documents on his desk. His hair was slightly messy, his eyes had bags underneath them, and he had a case of five o'clock shadow. Not a pretty sight in the least.

"Liet you should like take a rest you have been working nonstop for I don't know how long."

"I'll do that in a minute," the other said not at all meaning his words. He needed to keep busy. If he didn't his mind began to wonder. When his mind wondered, it only lead back to Belarus. To her smile, to her warmth, to her voice, and finally to her face before she walked out the door.

"Budgets," he mumbled pulling out the appropriate file before he pulled out a calculator, "Got to figure out the budgets."

Poland watched the scenario in despair. How was he supposed to help Liet in a situation like this? He felt completely useless.

"You are going to take care of my syestra now, da?" Russia said in a menacing voice while he held her boss up by his shirt. The man was struggling in the nation's hold like an animal caught in a snare.

"Yes, Yes!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide from fear. With a particularly pleased smile the tall nation let her boss down and began to smooth out his suit, "Good. Good."

Her older brother also convinced—intimidated—her boss to give her some work to keep her busy and become more involved in her own country. She was glad, being alone in Russia's house was too much, she needed a distraction to chase away the silence and emptiness.

Poland knocked on the brunette man's office door. Without waiting for a response, the blond made his way to the empty chair in front of the other's desk.

"The world meeting is tomorrow."

The blond saw the way the Lithuania's shoulders tensed, "Is it?"

Liet was trying to play it cool, like he did not care, but Poland knew better, "Do you think she will be there?"

The scratching of a pen on paper stopped and hovered over a signature line.

"I do not know."

"I feel the same way, as I figure it, Russia would try and keep her away from us for as long as possible," Poland voiced their thoughts aloud, "So there is a high possibility she won't be there."

"What does this have to do with us?" the brunette asked defeated. The sound of him signing papers appeared again.

"Well if she is, I think you should try and talk to her," the other said looking at the ends of his hair in aloofness.

"Feliks," Lithuania sighed, "I think this past—incident, shows you how bad of an idea that is…"

"But!" the blond interjected, before slamming both hands down on the wooden desk, "There is still hope. We are still alive; there are no knives embedded in the front door, or any suspicious death letters in the mail."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts Liet! Give it this one last shot, if she does not want to listen, or if she is completely back to the old Belarus—then I will not bring this up anymore."

The determination in emerald green eyes was what made the brunette agree, "….Alright."