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March 31st.
( PRE- NOTES, READ FIRST.
- My knowledge of the Slovak-Hungarian/Little war is really, really low.
- Hungary is a female country, as is Slovakia/Libena
- Poland and Germany are male countries.
- Slovakia (the character) used to like/love Germany (the character), up until he 'betrayed' her
- Slovakia (the country) signed a protection treaty with Germany (the country), saying that Germany would protect Slovakia during wars and such. When the Slovak-Hungarian/Little War started, however, Germany didn't protect Slovakia.
-Czech Republic (Fiala) is Thalia's character. There's no real reason that her and Slovakia/Libena get along, we just thought it'd be funny if the two had a sibling rivalry sort of thing.
- Slovakia (the character) now like/loves Poland (the character) )
March 31st, 1939.
That's the day that will forever stick in my memory. March 31st, 1939 - the day that the Little War 'officially' ended. Though it was long ago, I can still remember everything. Every little event that happened during that war has been burned into my mind.
As I sat on the roof of the house, hugging my knees, I stared out at the night sky. Oh so many years ago, guns would be firing. The shrieks of the soldiers piercing the air, the wounded would be struggling to drag themselves away from the battlefield. Bursting shells would light up the air like fireworks.. and I would be here, just watching.
Well, maybe not here. During the war, though, I had a bit of a habit of running away and sitting on the rooftops to try to get away. Some leader I was. I'd scream commands from the rooftops and hope that at least one soldier would hear and spread the news to everybody else. Often that's how things would work with me. it was rare for a Hungarian soldier to try to attack me, but whenever one did.. I would scream for help. I'm no good on my own. I would turn into a nervous wreck.
Still, that wasn't the part of the war that tore me apart. It was March 31st. It was raining hard. We were outnumbered by Hungarians, and they were killing off our soldiers at an alarming pace. I was tired of constantly running away and trying to save myself. I wanted to save my troops; save my country. On my own, armed with my ZB vz. 24 rifle, I decided to sneak around the back of the Hungarian troops and strike from behind. As I was sneaking in a secluded area, however, I heard footsteps. Hungary's. And she wasn't going to let me get to her troops that easily.
It was March 31st, 1939 that I was shot and left to die.
I'll never forget how it felt as the bullet entered my back, exited my chest, and I hit the ground with a thud.
I touched my chest gently, snapping out of my nostalgia, if only for a moment. Nobody knew I had this mark, save for my sister and Hungary herself. Even after all these years, I would still get sharp, slight pains in the scar. I'd never tell anybody, though. I don't want anyone worrying about me. I don't deserve it.
I remember laying face down on the cold pavement, blood seeping out of my open wound. I was sobbing and struggling for breath as I watched Hungary walk away. I wanted to get up. The very idea of laying in a pool of my own blood and tears was sickening, and yet I was paralyzed. No matter how hard I tried to move, my body refused to let me get up. This was how I was going to die - crying, bleeding, and feeling guilty. It was my fault that all of my soldiers were dead. If I was a better leader, if we were more prepared, we'd be better off. And still alive.
As my skin went pale due to loss of blood, I swear I could almost feel a faint smile coming across my face. Maybe it was for the best that I was dying now. What would everybody think if I was still alive after this? Fiala'd surely be upset with me for being so weak. Hungary would finally win. And Germany.. oh, Germany. It was almost as if thinking of him made the pain in my chest even greater. Why did he not come and save me? I'd sent out so many pleas for help. We signed a treaty. He'd protect me, he'd save me from any attacks. So why didn't he come and help me? He'd taken my trust, my love.. and tossed it away. I could feel the warm tears streaming out of my eyes harder as the freezing cold rain pelted against my skin. This was the end of me, the end of Slovakia.
And that's when I saw a pair of boots walking towards me. The way they moved were distinctly feminine - was Hungary coming back to deal the finishing blow? A sick part of me was hoping that she was. I couldn't continue on with this pain any longer. With a hole in my chest - literally - and blood still gushing out of it, I was ready to beg for her to shoot me again. Maybe in the head this time. The pain would be greater, but it'd only last for a moment. Then I'd be an angel. An angel dressed in a beautiful white dress, free to be sent to heaven. I'd feel no pain, and I could help others whenever they needed me. When the female spoke, however, it wasn't Hungary's voice. No. This voice sounded much like my own.
It was Fiala.
"G-get up." she had said to me. We'd never really been on the best of terms, but I could tell from her voice that she wasn't pleased. Hell, she almost sounded worried. I remember trying to force words out of my mouth, but I'm pretty sure all that came out were weak sputters. Oh, and more blood. "I'm not going to help you if you can't even help yourself. Get up. Y-you're strong, you're not going to die. Get up..! Are you even listening to me!? Help yourself, save yourself! Sl-Slovakia!" That was the last thing I heard her say before I closed my eyes 'forever'.
A faint smile crossed my face as I snapped back into reality once again. "I never figured out what happened.. who helped me." I quietly said to myself, letting my hand fall from the scar on my chest. I'd asked Czech if it was her, but she declined, saying that she left me laying there, sticking to her statements. Such a nice sibling, leaving her little sister to die..
As I sat on the rooftop gazing up at the stars, I didn't even notice that somebody else had snuck on to the roof. They'd quietly tiptoed around Romano and Spain's tomato garden, and before I knew it, plopped down next to me.
I didn't expect Poland to be the one sitting next to me. Oh, great, this would turn really awkward really quickly.
"Like, theeere you are! I was like, totally looking for you." he said, crossing his legs, as if he was getting comfortable. I shot him a bit of a weak, pained smile. "Oh, sorry. I was j-just, ah.. thinking to myself, I guess." I replied. Please, I thought, please don't ask about what. I hate lying to people.I don't want people worrying about me, but at the same time I don't want to keep my emotions caught inside of me.
"Thinking? About what? Thinking on the roof is like a totally strange thing to do, you could catch a cold!" he informed me, a smile on his face. "And that'd like totally suck." hearing him say that made my heart sink down into my gut. Great, well, now I'd have to tell him what was on my mind. Still hugging my knees and avoiding eye contact with him, I began to explain what was 'going on'.
"..just.. the.. Little War." I muttered quietly. "Seventy years ago today it ended.. the.. day that I nearly died.. when Hungary sh-shot me and left me in a pool of my own blood and tears.." I said quietly, biting down on my lip gently. "W..she like, what?" Poland said, obviously in disbelief. Oh, so he didn't know that she shot me? I sighed quietly and explained to him what happened so many years ago. He, just like mostly everybody else, knew that I had gotten into a war with Hungary - but he obviously didn't know of how I nearly died that day.
As I continued to explain to him what had happened, he did something that I wasn't expecting. He reached over and put his hand on my head, before gently pulling it down so that it was resting on his shoulder. We'd been friends for a while, but this was the first time that he'd actually reached out to really comfort me in any way.
And that's the moment that it hit me - he'd been through the exact same thing as me. Germany had invaded him, too, and he was caught completely off guard, in World War II. Now, most people would feel glad that they found somebody to relate to, but I just felt worse. World War II. I was on Germany's side. I was.. against Poland. Back then, if Germany told me to do whatever it took to kill Poland, I'd do it without a second thought. Back then I didn't know that I'd end up loving Poland so much.
Before I knew it, a tear must have snuck its way out of my eye, because I heard Poland laugh quietly and wipe my face with his fingers. "Don't be such a crybaby, Libena." he said in a bit of a teasing tone, obviously doing his best to cheer me up. I gave him a bit of a quiet laugh, rubbing at my eyes. Why was I crying, anyways? The past was the past. There was nothing I could do about my foolish actions, and yet the tears didn't stop. I wouldn't say that I was sobbing, the tears were just coming out of my eyes and I had no control over them. "I-I'm sorry, it's silly." I said quietly with another quiet laugh.
What happened next was something that I'd never be able to expect. He took his hand off of my head. Afraid that I said something that may have hurt him, I took my head off of his shoulder and looked at him, a worried expression on my face. He was there, staring right back at me, his gaze oddly soft. My worried expression dropped as I felt my body go warm.
You know that scene in romance movies where the two lovers realize that they're in love with each other? Where everything goes in slow motion and the two characters are the only things that seem to exist in the universe? That's exactly how it was. It was that moment where I saw myself reflected in his eyes. I didn't know very much about love, but I was positive that that was what I saw in his eyes. And I'm sure that he must have seen it in my eyes too, because he started to close his eyes and move his face closer to mine.
Oh god, he wanted to kiss me. He actually wanted to kiss me. Was he just .. bi-curious? For all these years I thought that he liked Lithuania. They looked so happy together, and just the way that they were.. it was completely misleading. I hated thinking this, because it made me sound like a little girl, but I had been waiting for a moment like this my whole life. A kiss with a person who I actually cared about. One with feeling. One with love. Not wanting to linger any longer, I carefully reached out and grabbed his shoulder, closed my eyes, and leaned in closer.
The moment that our lips touched, I felt a rush of heat go through my body. My stomach churned and I automatically felt myself go light headed. It was a good thing that I was holding onto his shoulder, otherwise I probably would have rolled over and fallen off the roof. There was no sense of urgency in the kiss. It was soft and gently. So innocent and so pure, like there was absolutely nothing that could have gone wrong. After a few long moments, I was the one who broke away. My face felt hot. Oh gosh, I was probably as red as one of the tomatoes in the rooftop garden.
"I...I-I'm like, uh, t-totally sorry L-Libena, I to-totally don't know why I did that, I-I me--" Poland stopped talking when I nervously lifted a finger and put it on his lips. I didn't want him to apologize. I didn't want anything to ruin this moment. I was the one who'd ruin it, by letting three stupid little words slip out accidentally. "I love you."
His face. The look of complete and utter shock was clearly visible on his face, and it was thanks to me. My heart sank as I forced a small smile onto my face. He wasn't going to know that I was hurt. I knew that this was all too good to be true. "...I...I'm sorry, that was uncalled f--" "I, like, l-love you to."
Hearing those words coming from his mouth made me swoon once again, as if we'd kissed for a second time. My cheeks darkened again as my mouth fell open slightly, as if he caught off guard. The look on his face had changed. He didn't look shocked anymore, he looked.. sincere. Honest. Like he wasn't playing a prank on me or anything like that. As a nervous smile stretched across my face, I muttered a quiet "Thank you" to him.
March 31st, 2009.
The day that I could stop hiding my feelings.
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