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“That joke wasn’t funny.”
Lithuania thought that was an odd thing to say considering what he had spent an arduous 15 minutes trying to get off his chest, and that was only the time it took trying to get the words to leave his mouth. It was impossible to actually pin point how long this was in the making. Months? Years? Tens of years? Hundreds? It kept him awake at night, thinking about how stupid he’d been, how many things made sense in his head now that he knew the truth that seemed so obvious now that it was fully formed and rattling around in his mind. Lithuania also found it impossible to name what exactly it was that made him realize it or feel that way in the first place, but now that it was revealed to him, it was clear as day. For possibly a very large portion of his life he had been harboring feelings for his best friend.
After realizing this he wasn’t sure what to do about the information, but he wasn’t someone to hide his feelings. He’d had a crush before…at least he thought he did. That seemed so distant to him now, fading as the years went on. Then he had no problem with being open about how he felt, which was why making these new (or perhaps old) inklings known was his first impulse. The difference between the two situations, though, was that outside of his fantasies and puppy love Lithuania had no actual relationship with Belarus and that had become blatantly obvious now. Poland, however, he had a lot of history with. Good and bad, major and minor. That was his best friend, his roommate, his partner, even if the context of that word kept changing over time. Would it change again? Should it? There were risks involved. He didn’t expect Poland to feel the same way about him, of course, considering his admission would probably be out of nowhere to his friend. But when you confess to someone you have a prior relationship with, even Lithuania knew that there were certain things that could possibly never be the same again. What if Poland was uncomfortable? What if he couldn’t live with him anymore? He would understand, of course, but that would also break his heart in more ways than he could count.
What finally won him over was his inability to be disingenuous with his friend. It had been a few weeks since his realization, and he could feel an awkward knot in his chest any time he was around Poland while thinking about what he knew to be true. It felt almost perverted, he thought, thinking those things in such close quarters. Not anything lewd, but even romantic thoughts seemed to be inappropriate while his friend was right next to him, leaning on him on the couch and none the wiser. It almost felt like we was taking advantage of the situation, especially with that anxious inkling that maybe he wouldn’t even be welcome in the home anymore if he made his friend aware of his feelings. Was that realistic? He often wondered when he had time to himself to think about it heavily. Regardless, the thoughts swirled and the knots tightened until he finally decided enough was enough.
He had sat Poland down at his kitchen table, sitting across from him and explained simply that they needed to talk. There was a quip about his nagging, but he was receptive enough. After he finally spit it out, he studied his friend’s expression and tried to keep his own steady. When Poland finally responded, the reaction was definitely not on his list of expected outcomes. His face wasn’t exactly perturbed, more peevish, and his eyes were narrowed slightly as he gave his friend a look. “That joke wasn’t funny.”
Lithuania didn’t say anything for a long moment. He knew his eyes were probably widened and panicked looking, which he tried to control, but he had a script of sorts prepared for a variety of other responses. “I know this is sudden but you should know the truth.” “I won’t try to make this awkward, but if you need me to go away for a while, I’ll understand.” “It’s alright, I don’t expect you to feel the same way.” He didn’t have anything prepared for this.
“So anyway, I’m starved. If you didn’t make anything, I’m calling out for dinner, ‘kay?” Poland quickly stood up, recovered from what Lithuania guessed was his interpretation of his friend’s lame attempt at stand up. He turned in his chair to watch him walk to the phone, consulting a list of places that was tacked onto the wall next to its hanging cradle. “You’re here so you talk to them.”
“Poland.” Was all he said, throat dry. He was trying not to be upset. On one hand, maybe it was a lot to take in; so much so that it wouldn’t be immediately believed. On the other, it seemed just like Poland to be inconsiderate of and ignore his feelings. When it was a crass word or thoughtless comment it was one thing, but these were emotions he’d fretted over, spent sleepless hours considering. He couldn’t just walk away and order a pizza like he’d just made a comment about how nice it was outside or petrol inflation. He wasn’t a dramatic person, but this was his heart he was talking about. “Poland, I’m not teasing you.”
“Yeah, it just gets worse the more you tell it, dude.” His quick fingers dialed the buttons on the phone, holding the receiver over with a stretched arm. If Lithuania was thinking clearly, he might have noticed his friend’s inability to look him in the face. “The usual and stuff.”
“I don’t even know who you called.” His hand instinctively went to take the phone from his friend but he caught himself, skin cold and tingling from anxiety as he pulled back. “No, Poland. I’m not dealing with dinner. I’m trying to be serious, here!”
In another unexpected reaction, Poland took the phone back to his body, holding it for a second while the empty room was filled with the muffled sound of the dial tone that came from the speaker pressed tightly to his chest. It rang once more before he turned and slammed it back into its cradle. The ringing stopped.
“I know this isn’t…ideal.” Lithuania managed, standing up. “I know it’s not something you expected but…I-I really don’t know what else to say here other than it’s true, I have feelings. For, uh, you.” He didn’t want to say ‘like’ or ‘love’. Did he really know which of those was more appropriate? Which one was actually the right thing to say? Would he ever?
“All I want is dinner and you just…you keep making lame jokes, like. I’m going to starve.” Poland’s back was to him and he wrapped his arms around his waist, voice shaking but he tried to laugh anyway. “Like, the hunger pains are already trying to kill me. I see a white light already.”
He was trying not to be frustrated. He was trying not to be angry. Lithuania didn’t want to be mad at him; in truth he felt like he had no place to be. But maybe it would be different if Poland was actually taking him seriously. This wasn’t something he would willingly brush off as a joke if his friend wasn’t going to be receptive. The truth was the truth. “Poland, listen to me—”
“No!” His raised voice was trying to be stern but felt broken and unsure. “I don’t want to listen to your stupid, unfunny, lame jokes anymore Liet; I’m done!”
“This is not a joke! Why don’t you want to listen to me? Why don’t you EVER listen to me?” Lithuania couldn’t help but finally yell at him. He didn’t ask for much, he thought, but he at least deserved to be listened to when he was being so open and honest. “You don’t have to like it, but you just have to listen!”
“I’ll just go buy my own dinner. I’ll call you and ask if you want something later, okay?” Poland whipped around and Lithuania was horrified by his facial expression. It wasn’t angry even though he expected it to be. His friend looked more like he was numb and devastated. Was he truly so upset by the news? As he walked past him, roughly stepping out of the way, Lithuania grabbed his elbow in a state of panic. He couldn’t leave. Not like this. This wasn’t supposed to be something ugly. He never wanted to hurt him, never in a million years.
“Poland, please. Please.” He pleaded, trying to look him in the eye, but Poland evaded his stare, turning away and trying to jerk free. “Just let me talk to you. Just tell me you at least understand.”
“No, I don’t understand.” The curt tone in his voice made Lithuania’s jaw tighten. “I don’t understand why you’d make up a stupid joke like that. You think I’m dumb so you want to make fun of me and if I said anything it’d just mean I’m some big idiot. I don’t understand at all.”
“What?” His grip tightened instinctively. “Poland, this isn’t a joke at your expense. Why would you think that? Why would this be a joke about you? Tell me what you want to say.”
Poland did look at him now, eyes angry. “I know you think I’m stupid. You laugh at me all the time. Like, I’m soooo weird and sooo dumb. Why does Poland do this? Haha, how hilarious! I know you laugh at me.”
In all honesty, it wasn’t a complete lie. He did catch himself thinking that sometimes his friend wasn’t the brightest or having a chuckle at one of his odd eccentricities. But that wasn’t exactly a fair accusation, was it? After all, he’d come to live with the fact that he was often made fun of by the very person accusing him of the same.
“How many times have I been the butt of your jokes? How many times have you made me feel like an idiot for something completely normal? Why is it you get to make fun of me on a daily basis but I think you’re weird and suddenly I’m the bad guy?”
“You are funny! You are weird! That’s the difference! Is making me laugh a crime or something?” Poland finally pulled away, stinging and obviously embarrassed of himself. “I’m leaving, so if you want something you better say it now or you’ll be totally hungry later.”
“You aren’t leaving!” Lithuania yelled louder than he had throughout the conversation and Poland jumped. Lithuania knew it was a rare sight to see him so impassioned about anything, let alone so obviously angry, but he couldn’t help it; he needed a word in edgewise this time. “I tell you I have feelings for you and you just leave?” His voice was cracking, catching in his throat and vision growing hazy. “I just wanted to be honest with you, why won’t you let me?” He took a breath and watched his friend rubbing his fingers together, tugging at the hem of his sweater, looking at the ground and avoiding saying anything else. “I just want you to know that I feel things for you, but. But you won’t let me.”
He left Poland to sit back down in his chair, head in his hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How did it turn out like this? Should he have expected this from his friend, the person who wouldn’t take anything seriously even if it meant saving his life? At least for most people they didn’t have to say that about someone literally.
Lithuania didn’t cry loudly and they weren’t tears of sadness. His frustration with his friend himself just got to be too much for him. He felt his palms moisten as he cried softly, feeling exhausted suddenly and like the crying was just making him feel more and more down instead of relieved of his exasperation. He heard Poland walk off as he sat back down, but didn’t hear the door close signaling his going to get food. He thought of staying awake so he could undoubtedly answer Poland’s call about not knowing where he was and what was that driving rule about the signal again, just pretending like nothing happened. But sleep sounded so nice right now, even if the idea of getting any rest was futile. Maybe Poland would take the hint and actually just figure things out on his own for once and give him some peace.
Instead, his footsteps came back and Lithuania attempted to dry his face as much as possible to no avail. He wasn’t sure why it felt embarrassing to have Poland see him cry, but he felt the need to hide it, trying to rub his face on his shoulder, damp palms and shirt cuffs not helping relieve the moisture. He heard the steps stop and a metallic jingle. He was grabbing his satchel, the metal clasps clinking together. There wasn’t noise for a minute until the footsteps came back his way.
“…Liet? Are you…?” Poland asked softly as he approached, but there was still a sense of awe and amusement in his tone. What was it he had said? Lithuania was the one who made HIM feel like a joke? “Oh my gosh, are you crying?”
“Just go, go get dinner before you go into the light.” The bitterness couldn’t help but seep out from his words. Belarus broke his bones but she didn’t break his pride like this.
“You were serious.” Poland came around the side of the table to look at him, eyes wide. It was Lithuania’s turn to try and hide his face.
“Do you want to listen now? Is it amusing to you NOW?”
“You were serious.” Poland said again, voice quiet. He held his bag in one hand, setting it on the table and pulling out the chair next to his friend. “You were, weren’t you?”
“I said it I don’t know how many times, Poland. But you don’t listen to me. Why would you now?” He tried his best not to sarcastically huff and smile but he couldn’t help himself. This hurt and he had no idea that it could ever hurt this much. He wasn’t this person, but it was more devastating than he could ever imagine. To feel this way for God knows how long, finally realize it, and then have it treated like a joke was too much.
Poland grabbed his shirt suddenly with enough force to pull him forward slightly. His face was blank with eyes wide. “Say it again. Say it again and swear.”
“What?” He asked stupidly, shocked at Poland’s intensity. For the first time during the ordeal Poland actually bored into him, locking their eyes together.
“Say it. Say you like me and then you swear it’s not a dumb joke. You. You.” Poland put his other hand to his mouth and Lithuania saw him shudder slightly. “You say it and swear to God and the Holy Ghost and junk because you can’t break swears like that; you SWEAR.”
He didn’t have the chance to swear to anything before Poland began to sob. If Lithuania cried quietly and with at least some dignity, Poland was at the opposite end of the spectrum. They were ugly and loud, mangled noises and he hid his head because he knew just how horrible they really were. This didn’t change anything, Lithuania thought, compared to how it was before. Before this conversation when Poland would cry, no matter if it was at a dumb movie or some actual tragedy, he was always there to comfort him. He couldn’t count the number of times he walked out of a room with a tear stained shoulder and perhaps the faintest trail of mucous to match it. It was easy now to pull Poland to him, so naturally, and let him cry there again. He could still hear those words said over and over again as they were muffled by his chest. “You swear, you swear, you swear.”
“I swear,” he comforted, removing his hand from the back of Poland’s head to wipe at his own face again unsuccessfully. “I love you, I swear.” He found the word to be fitting.