Work Text:
She knocked twice again and waited for any indication of life in the grey apartment block—the thumping sound of footsteps against the floor, the rustling of clothing moving...anything which would tell her she wasn't alone in this endeavour to eat this cake.
A minute went by with no answer and she slumped against the door in defeat.
There wasn't anything to give her hope that Lithuania was actually home and she shook her head in disbelief at this. For once, even he had left his house to who knows where.
Her phone buzzed. Lithuania had gotten back to her.
Oh, Ukraine! You're visiting today? I'll be back in an hour or two so I'm so sorry you have to wait. You don't really have to stay if you're busy.
Ukraine looked down at the box of cake in her arms and sighed. Of course, she should've asked if he was in before she came. No one these days ever came by without announcing a visit a few days beforehand.
She stood in front of the door for a few minutes wondering if it was worth sitting on the ground in front of the apartment to wait for Lithuania's return but she decided almost immediately to leave. It'd be a pitiful sight—a woman alone with a box of cake with no one to share with and nowhere to go.
Instead, of going home though, she walked out of the apartment block into a nearby park, grey from melting snow, which was darkened by soot and dust. Save for a few travellers taking a detour, it was empty.
She walked along, the box heavy in her arms. She buried her face deeper in her scarf. Had things worked out as she planned, she wouldn't be here alone, out in the cold.
Had things been different with her, she might have had family or friends to go to. But everyone was busy. Whether she was the cause for such busyness or she was the unfortunate woman who'd run into it, she was never sure. She sniffed and a lump began forming in her throat.
Something from the corner of her mind snapped her out of her reverie. She whipped her head around to see that the mess of shoulder-length blond hair she saw in the moments before belonged to a man she recognised. He sat on a bench and without thinking twice, she approached him.
"Poland," she said while giving a half-smile.
He looked up, surprised. "Ukraine."
"What are you doing here?"
He looked away and said, "I could ask the same." He returned the half-smile with a slightly pursed one. "Thought I'd find Liet in but apparently he's got a life outside his apartment. Good for him though."
"Then we have the same reasons for being here," Ukraine said. Poland nodded at this but didn't say anything else.
It wasn't often she talked to him and it was always an awkward tangle of conversation to unravel between them when she did. She'd seen how relaxed he was whenever he was with Lithuania or Hungary.
With her, he always tensed up and the conversation always ended too soon in silence.
She stood in the midst of this silence, unsure of what now.
"You...want to sit down or something?" Poland said, finally. He patted the bench space next to him. "Unless you have somewhere to go, that is," he said hastily. He cocked his head to the side and his green eyes bored into hers, unwavering. Ukraine took a step back instinctually and bit her lip. She couldn't look him in the eyes too long. She had met those unnerving, catlike and inquisitive stares too many times before.
Each time was almost never good.
Ukraine looked down at her feet and kicked the snow around. This was the twenty-first century and the most recent woes of the twentieth century were far gone in the past. If historical injustices were a basis to prevent even the most basic of friendship, then it was a wonder that anyone could get along with anyone.
But she supposed some had it more difficult than others. The past entangled everyone, but for some reason, for her, it was always a difficult balancing act between forgetting and remembering. It was something she hadn't yet mastered—how much of the past should she keep and how much should she throw away? How important was something like her family in the face of present political realities and past historical prejudices?
She was a person whose politics would always intertwine with every action and every interaction she'd have and it was a continuous struggle to learn how to balance the personal with the political.
"No, I have nowhere else to go," she said after a pause. She sat down next to him on the bench, shuffling slightly to make way for the box of cake still in her hands.
"Are you waiting for Lithuania to come back?" she asked to fill the silence that had settled upon them again.
Poland nodded. "You too?"
Ukraine nodded and the conversation fizzled out again. She didn't know what to do to save it. She never did.
There were a couple of children kicking a ball around in the distance, their shouts and scuffling loud in the empty, cold air. The birds nearby them scattered and their wings fluttered in a flurry of black feathers.
"Remember Euro 2012?" Poland said suddenly. "Man, that was some time ago."
It was. Things had seemed to be getting better between them at that time. Sure, Ukraine herself had been going through turbulent times but despite all the problems-rowdy fans and potentially disastrous preparations—they had pulled through in hosting the football games together. That was certainly something to show for.
Though it was a shame that with every two steps forward, there was always another step back.
"That's right. I remember it was exhausting but it was fun too. Working with you that is," Ukraine she added, cautiously.
Poland glanced at her and Ukraine twisted her scarf around her hands. That unnerving stare was back again. He bent down to pick up the snow to roll it into a ball before throwing it back onto the ground. It broke into several pieces. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah," he repeated.
"I've heard from a lot of my people living at your place that their lives are good and they're happy," she said, trying to save this dying conversation.
"Is that so?" Poland gave a forced smile in response to this. "I'm really glad that's the case...now."
A pit formed in her stomach as the word 'now' reverberated in her ears. She swallowed and looked down at the box in her lap, tapping on it with her mittened-fingers.
History is long and nations' lives longer, and so the most recent past is only just one of many pasts. But it was the most recent past that lived on the strongest in the national memory and so it was the most recent past that gave the freshest wounds, the harshest guilt, and an anger that could only be washed away with time.
It was no wonder her bosses were eager to rename the streets and tear down old statues and buildings. They urged her to return to her roots: an idyllic folk aesthetic represented by such things like her vibrant embroidery patterns. It made her proud to find herself as the one and only Ukraine, to be so celebrated, but underneath it all, she knew even the most innocent celebration of culture and art was at its heart, political.
As a nation, there was no escaping the political.
She gripped the box in her hands hard. It was hard to escape history too, and here, with Poland, it was not an easy thing to come to terms with. The parts of both victim and aggressor in each others' histories had changed hands between them too often and the consequences of these roles they played in each others' lives continued to seep into the present.
Two steps back.
She looked up just in time to see Poland turn his head away from her and this time it was his turn to look down and away. His cheeks were red (but it might just be the cold) and his expression looked apologetic. To her, it was obvious that his mind was also on the subject of the past.
Ukraine sighed. It wasn't fair to either of them. She looked at the box on her lap again and suddenly an idea popped into her head.
"Poland, would you like some cake?" she said, willing her voice to become light and cheery. She pointed at the box on her lap. "I baked a honey cake and I wanted to share it."
"Cake?" he said, uncertainty colouring his voice. But she could see his face light up at the mention of the word and she continued.
"Yes, cake! I promise you, it's very good—at least many others say it is. It's made with the finest of my local honey. And the cake itself is light and sweet. Would you like to try some?" Poland didn't answer but she began opening the box anyway to out a slice on a paper plate. She handed the plate to him and, after a pause, he took it, hesitatingly, muttering his thanks in the process.
She waited for him to bite into it but instead, he only looked at it, a wariness gathering in this features of his face.
"It's good. I promise," she said, again as she fidgeted with the handle of the box.
"You should cut a slice for yourself too, Ukraine," he said, turning to her with a wry expression. "I don't want to eat alone."
She agreed and cut a slice for herself. Before she could even bite into her cake she heard Poland exclaim and she looked over to see that he had already helped himself to his slice.
"Thish is veally goo!" he said through a mouthful of cake. He covered his mouth when she turned to look at him and swallowed before repeating himself again. "It's really good!"
Ukraine grinned. "It is, isn't it?" She clapped her hands together. "I knew this recipe would do the trick. I baked this specially for my sister and brother but—" She stopped short.
Poland looked over, chewing another bite of cake. "But?"
"Well, it's a busy season so I can't expect everyone to visit all the time just to have cake! That's why I came to see if Lithuania was in," she said.
"True," Poland said with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "That's why it's always good to have many friends I suppose. But—" his voice went up an octave as he became giddy "—more for me I guess? Aren't I glad I decided to drop in today to check on Lithuania only to bump into you! Say, could you tell me the recipe for this cake? Is it like some really old, long passed down recipe from some old Ukrainian tradition or is like—" he froze at this as if he just remembered who he was talking to. "Oh. Nevermind about it," he muttered as he let his head hang and hair fall forward.
Ukraine herself didn't even know how to respond to this sudden burst of enthusiasm from him which was muted almost as quickly as it started.
Another step forward, two steps back again.
She fidgeted with the hem of her coat as her cheeks burned. It always happened. The gaps in their conversation, their stilted words...and finally when progress was made, almost immediately, it was lost. Her eyes blurred as they became wet and she took a deep breath. She couldn't take it anymore.
She took a deep breath and said, "Poland, what exactly do you think of me?"
He looked taken aback by this question. "What do I t-think of you?"
She took another deep breath. "Yes."
"Well, I think you're pretty cool as a person...and you bake good cakes," he said.
"Then why is it so hard for us to be friends? Even just as regular people?" she asked. Her throat felt dry and her hands were trembling slightly but she had to ask.
Poland looked at her with those unnerving green eyes as if to say 'you know why' but he sighed. "Like... I don't know." He shook his head. "I don't know, Ukraine."
"I know," she whispered as tears began welling up in her eyes. She wiped at them. Not now. Not now. She tried to keep her voice even as she said, "But is it possible, that is, could we try to, you know, move forward? E-even slowly?"
This time, it was Poland's turn to look away. Before he could give an answer, someone called to him in the distance and they both looked up to see Lithuania heading toward them.
"Poland, Ukraine! Were you two waiting for long?" Lithuania called out.
"No, not at—" Ukraine began as Poland got up and rushed to Lithuania.
"Very long," he shouted as he latched onto Lithuania and started dragging him away, rambling away in his usual chirpy voice. Lithuania tried looking back at her in an attempt to talk to her but she waved him off nodded for him to go on with Poland, even as her heart sank like a stone.
Three steps back.
Just as they were about to turn a corner, Poland suddenly whipped around and shouted, "I almost forgot! Don't forget to pass me the recipe for your amazing cake, Ukraine! In fact...in fact, we should bake some time together, right?" His face was smiling as he said all this but she could see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
Stunned as she, Ukraine barely croaked out, "Sure."
The uncertainty was immediately replaced with relief in his eyes and lingered. He gave her a slight nod and a thumbs up before turning around to leave with Lithuania.
Still stunned, she looked at the empty plate beside her where Poland was sitting just now and slowly, a smile began forming on her face. At first small and hidden until it grew to a point where she finally burst out laughing. The laughs turned to tears and then back again to giggles as she shook off the nerves and felt herself grow lighter. Laughing or crying, she was sure she looked insane to any anyone passing by at this moment.
One step forward. Just one step forward.