#aph: lithuania

He was always protective of the blue flowers.

Lithuania made it a point to remember this. It was a nice gesture, to fill a vase with flowers to decorate the table in the morning before setting the table for breakfast. But after having arranged the blue flowers, he saw how America's expression quickly changed when he came down the stairs to greet him. He hadn't yelled or reprimanded him for it, but there was this look in his eyes that seemed cold and so unlike him.

It was a quiet, but terse request: "Don't pick these flowers ever again." Lithuania hadn't known anything about them, and he removed them from the table. The subject quickly changed from there, and all had been so easily forgiven.

Then one afternoon, Lithuania had come up to take him his coffee when he heard a strange sound coming from the study. When he peered in he saw America sitting at his desk, the dust hanging in the air above him in the bronze-gold late afternoon haze of the sun through the window. His shoulders shuddered ever so slightly as he sat there, his eyes buried in his hand, a grimace on his lip. A book lay open on his desk - faded blue flowers pressed into the pages.

At once, America jumped to attention at the creek of the door. When Lithuania placed the serving tray down, he noticed the tell-tale signs: the quick swipe of his thumb on his nose; the redness around his eyes, a mottled blush stretched across the apples of his cheeks. There was an ache that lept up in Lithuania's chest at the sight, only made heavier when he was met with the usual laugh, joke, and thanks for his service.

He hesitated at first, but Lithuania committed himself and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He felt America tense in surprise, then relax. He hadn't quite thought of what to say, or how to comfort him, but as his mind raced he slowly felt his embrace returned. At first it was just a light touch, but slowly he felt America bring his face to his shoulder. It wasn't until Lithuania tentatively combed the back of his head with his fingertips that he allowed himself to cry.

Lithuania came to understand it that day, how precious those flowers were to him. They had been something he had searched for for a very long time - ephemeral flowers, which only bloomed for a short time. They had been meant as a gift for a friend... it had been the first time he learned how cruel and precious life really was.