#I'm Feeling Emotional About LietPol RN

[healrod]

There’s a split-second in their argument where Feliks realizes Tolys is pretending at hating him – because in that split-second, Tolys consciously narrows his eyes, and Tolys doesn’t do that when he’s arguing with someone he genuinely hates. Feliks knows how Tolys fights with Russia; he snarls and he spits, but Tolys never thins his gaze like a scythe on the stalk of the rye. But before Feliks can reply with anything, before he even sticks out his tongue in abject victory, Tolys strides out of their bedroom and closes the door gently behind him.

“Whatever,” Feliks shouts, even though he knows Tolys will keep walking and walking and walking – past the tile kitchen with their unwashed plates in the sink, down the red stairs with the scuff marks on the wall, all the way into the cobblestone center of Vilnius, where the fountains will whisper him sweet nothings as he mulls and mutters and prays for the name of Feliks Lukasiewicz. Feliks doesn’t care about that part. Liet knows that he cares about him. Liet knows that “whatever” is a simple way of saying “I’m trying not to care”, which is really a roundabout way of saying “I’m giving you the power to hurt me”, which – well, Liet has made his own conclusions about that.

What Liet doesn’t know is that Feliks doesn’t really care for himself now, either. What Tolys doesn’t know is that while he’s pacing around the fountains, and staring at the sunset, and wishing that he was the type of person to say ‘screw the universe!’ and go back to smoking, Feliks will sit on the floor next to the balcony and wait for God to come back. It’s Tuesday evening. Red votives and amber sun linger in the twilit city of Vilnius. Feliks has never been particularly concerned with God. He’s never worshipped God, and he’s never shunned God, and he’s never thought of himself as a god, either, despite what some idiot people (Prussia) (Russia) (Austria) (and others) might say. But he wishes God were here with him right now. It’s too quiet; Feliks listens to every wheezing rattle from Tolys’s oven in the kitchen. Only God would understand this particular kind of love.