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This, Poland decides, sucks. It's, like, the suckiest thing he's dealt with in an age. It's a lie, too. He got partitioned, he got wiped off the map, and he's still around.
"What do you mean, he's gone?" he says, itching to punch Russia's smug face.
"He just faded away," Russia says. "I didn't want him to."
"I can see that from the way you grabbed as much of his territory as possible," Poland snaps. "Latvia?"
Latvia looks like he'll cry. He also looks like someone who's just gobbled up some nice new territory.
Bastards, Poland thinks, and goes searching.
Toris gritted his teeth. The tourists on the table by the window were obnoxious in their belief that no one around spoke English. He didn't mind them thinking the town was quaint; it was the comments about their waitress, Edita, that were infuriating. If he showed he understood, she'd be even more humiliated.
Screw this, he thought next, and spilt an entire bowl of hot soup into the worst one's crotch.
When the manager stopped yelling at him and asked what really happened, Edita spoke up.
"They tripped him," she said.
Toris looked humble and innocent, and kept his job.
Vilnius, Poland decides. There's no freaking way he's not in Vilnius. He absolutely refuses to believe that Liet is just, like, gone. He's got, like, evidence that doesn't happen. Him. Prussia.
Enough stalling. He's at the border as fast as he can think it, and steps across under his own steam. It feels like he's on Russian soil. Damn.
"I know you can hear me," he mutters, and kicks lightly at the ground. "You'd better get your hiney over here right now."
"What is it?" Russia asks, behind him.
"Do you mind? I'm talking to Liet."
He heads for Vilnius.
"I hope you're not waiting for a night of passion to repay you for avenging my honour," Edita said, dividing the leftover food into equal portions.
"Don't deny me, beautiful lady!" Toris cried melodramatically, as she laughed. She didn't laugh enough, he thought. Gossip said Edita's daughter-in-law considered their flat too small for a couple, a baby and a widowed mother-in-law; things were tense.
"My knight in shining armour," Edita said, handing him a portion. "See you tomorrow."
Eating the leftovers later, he imagined himself on a warhorse and laughed so much he almost choked on a piece of chicken.
"Oh, my God," Poland mutters. "When did Vilnius get so freaking big?"
He glares around him at the crowds, insubstantial and mortal, and then he thinks, God, this place feels empty. I could totally take this city. The moment the thought registers he moans in horror, covering his face. He can't believe he even thought that.
"What's that man doing?" a little boy says.
Poland peers between his fingers. Oh, great. The humans are watching him.
"Where's the soul of your nation?" he says.
The kid's mother drags the kid away. Fine. It's not like he expected an answer anyway.
Toris petted the motorbike again, just making sure it was really there. All his saving had paid off; it didn't matter to him that the bike wasn't new. What it was, he thought, was freedom. On his next day off he'd go on a trip to the countryside, then he'd see how fast he could go. From one side of the country to the other in the blink of an eye, he thought.
That night he dreamt he rode from the Baltic to the Black Sea, his land laid out before him like a picture, and smiled in his sleep.
"This is my city. Get out."
Poland doesn't even look around. "Yours? All you've done is tidy your borders. You've no claim here."
Belarus stalks round to look him in the eye. Poland yawns and looks bored.
"Why are you bothering?" she says. "Everyone's laughing at you."
"By everyone, you mean the brother I want to screw, right?" Poland says brightly.
Belarus steps back across her borders. Good riddance, Poland thinks uneasily. Vilnius feels of nothing. If Belarus decided to make a move - Maybe he should take the city, just to keep it safe -
Dammit! he thinks, and keeps searching.
OK, Toris thought. It was time to lie very still and give thanks for mud. The world kept spinning, rather worse when he closed his eyes, so he opened them again. He remembered the bend in the road, he remembered that bloody, stupid, suicidal sheep and then he remembered lying in the mud.
He sat up and groaned. Groaning was good, he thought. Dead people probably didn't groan. Once back on his feet he pulled the bike out of the mud, then propped himself weakly against it while he threw up.
It was a long, hot walk back into town.
Poland has run out of likely places, so he's looking everywhere. Birštonas is small, but they went there to a music festival once; Liet danced him around and kissed him in the street. Thinking of it, Poland feels lost, watching the people who aren't Liet's any more.
A tall young man walks away from him, his long brown hair caught back in a messy ponytail. He looks right from the back, but Liet doesn't have a limp. The young man looks both ways before crossing the street.
Poland stops breathing. Then he's running, running, and all he feels is joy.
"Oh my God, do you have, like, any idea of how freaking long I've been looking for you? I had to talk to Russia and Latvia, and I know he's your kid brother but dude you need to take a firm hand with him and make him give your territories back, and you weren't in Vilnius, how come you weren't in Vilnius? I didn't give up hope, you know I've always been totally optimistic and here you are and oh-my-God-I've-missed-you-so-much."
"What?" Toris said, wide-eyed. "Who are you?"
He really didn't know how to deal with the bear-hug.
Liet's looking at him like he's crazy, but that's nothing new. Poland hugs him, revelling in the warm feel of him, breathing in his scent, and - He stiffens; Liet feels wrong. He feels sort-of fragile, his hair doesn't smell like it should. Poland draws back, registering the freaked-out expression and -
"What's on your face?"
"Huh?"
"Dude, you're getting wrinkles round your eyes." His gaze falls to Liet's leg. "What's wrong with your leg?"
"It was a motorcycle accident," Liet says. "Look, you've mixed me up with someone –"
He looks years older. He's human. Poland finds himself for once entirely speechless.
"Liet," the blond guy said.
"My name's Toris."
"OK. My name's Feliks. You remember me, right? We're friends, real good friends."
Toris shook his head. "Sorry."
"We used to live together, remember? Then you had to move to Russia, and I ended up going to Austria, remember? And we were both in Russia for a while before we got out? C'mon, Liet - Toris, we were partners, remember?"
"Partners," Toris said. "In what? Business? Crime?"
"Business, sort-of. And, you know - "
"No?"
"Other ways too?"
Oh, Toris thought as Feliks put a hand on his arm. "I really don't think so," he said.
Crap. Oh, crap. Poland feels ill and scared and the only way he knows how to deal with those sorts of feelings is to have Liet sort them out, which isn't going to work here, so he has to go with Plan B, which is make-shit-up-as-he-goes-along. He can't quite believe what he's about to do, so he doesn't think about it, just grabs Liet's puny human hand and hangs on. Liet tries to pull away, but sheesh, Poland's a freaking big country.
"Latvia?" Poland yells. "Latvia, let me in?"
"What?" Latvia says, annoyed.
Liet looks around and faints.
Toris opened his eyes to find Feliks tucking a blanket round him. The boy who had stepped out of thin air was watching him.
"Where did you come from?" Toris said. The vertigo swept over him again. "I saw - " he said, dizzy, "it felt like I saw everywhere and everyone - "
"What's it like not to do that?" the boy asked.
"Do you mind?" Feliks said. "He's confused." He smiled winningly. "You're Lithuania, I'm Poland, and that's Latvia. We're in his house. Which is also Latvia. Try not to think about it too much."
"OK," Toris said in a small voice.
"Give him back his territories," Poland hisses, looking Latvia up and down. He's looking taller and older than Poland remembered, more settled, more at ease with himself and the world. "They're his."
"My people are happy to live in my house," Latvia says sanctimoniously.
Poland considers physical violence.
"Let me, like, remind you of what happens every freaking time someone really pisses me off," he says.
Latvia pales. "His people wanted - "
"Only because the alternative to you was Russia. God, Latvia, you said you'd keep him safe."
Liet looks so scared. Poland pats his hand.
"We're going home," he says.
This was ridiculous, Toris thought. How had his day gone from being perfectly normal to him being kidnapped? He wasn't sure who or what he'd been kidnapped by; Feliks who was supposedly Poland kept explaining, but it made no sense at all.
What made even less sense was the intense vertigo Toris felt every time he looked too closely at something, or at the boy. The ornamental pond in the garden turned into the Baltic. The tiny cathedral in the snowglobe was filled with tinier, moving worshippers.
I've gone mad, Toris thought, and meekly took Feliks' hand when told to.
He'll take Liet to his house, then he'll think how to sort this out. Poland keeps the patient smile on his face and leads Liet away.
"Wait!" Latvia says, and runs back inside. He emerges with a box, offering it carefully.
Poland opens it to see a red glass heart nestled in cotton wool. It feels heavier than it looks. He touches it with one finger, and hears the sounds of Vilnius.
"I kept that safe, at least," Latvia says.
Poland nods. With Liet's warm hand in his, and Liet's fragile heart held close, he takes them both safely home.