Original Request: Lithuania showing cruelty towards Belarus; "Lithuania was once a powerful, so in some point in history, I'd like to see him being a massive dick for once. Towards the bitch he's head-over-heels for."

Tenacious

Lithuania lets pale strands of hair slip through his fingers, gently stroking the head of the nation crumpled before him.

"B-Brother will…brother will… Brother… H-He…"

"He's not here," he says simply.

He tugs, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her face is contorted with the deepest fury he has ever seen, eyes promising him the most brutal murder imaginable. He sighs, dropping her gaze to run his eyes down the upturn of her sniffling nose to the snowy skin of her throat. Belarus is so pretty. So he can't help it when his hand reaches impulsively to caress her.

"He's going to kill you," she hisses, and Lithuania knows she'd bite the hand stroking her throat if she had the strength.

He doesn't remember much about this Russia, other than the faint memory of a small child left defenseless to the world. A land that made him shudder – not only from the cold. But the nation Russia, as eccentric as he seemed, was merely a frightened, lonely boy.

"What's he going to do?" he challenges. "If there was anything he could do, he'd be here already. Or maybe…he doesn't think you're worth the effort." But I do. The last blow is cruel, but a deeper part of him is hurt too. Why can't Belarus see how much better it'd be to live with him?

Belarus makes an enraged sound as she bursts into tears. She ducks her head to hide her face, her hair falling to make a makeshift curtain. Lithuania watches on calmly.

But then her whimpers begin taking form of a chant, and he soon recognizes the word she is repeating.

"Brother brother brother brother…"

"Shut up!" he growls, and slaps her.

If Belarus felt it, she pretends otherwise. If anything her chanting only increases in volume.

"Don't say his damn name here!" He grabs hold of her chin, digging his nails in, and pulls her towards him. "Do you hear me?"

Belarus responds by spitting in his face, and Lithuania can only stare in furious disbelief. That bitch. If Poland actually saw this – Lithuania chokes back a snarl, his face reddening in embarrassment and anger. For so long he'd been stepped on by others, and now that he was finally in control – to think, he was still dealing with this shit.

He doesn't say anything, but his hands drop to circle around her neck. He lets out a quick, sarcastic smile before he squeezes.

"K-kill…I…I'm…" Belarus breaks off into a fit of hacking, strangled chokes. Her eyelids droop on their own accord, lips pursed open in a silent cry as she stares fixatedly above them. "Br-brot-"

"Don't," Lithuania warns, "Don't say it."

She doesn't, but he digs his nails in harder anyways. Until he feels something wet prickling against his fingers. His hands let go as if burned.

"Shit…s-" Lithuania breaks off before he instinctively apologizes.

Belarus reaches up with one hand, just barely grazing her fingers against the bruises. She chuckles darkly between pants.

The dark marks and red curves stand out against her milky skin, and Lithuania turns away. Look what she made him do. He tugs a handkerchief out of his pocket and thrusts it before her face.

"Spit," he commands.

A silvery eyebrow raises questioningly and Belarus seems to be taking her time, biting her lip as she decides whether or not it's worth the fight.
Her head tilts as she spits and Lithuania knows she was aiming for his hand, but he isn't bothered. He pushes the cloth into her hand.

"Clean yourself."

Her nose scrunches even more in disgust. "Don't you have water?"

But she doesn't protest further and begins rubbing slow, gentle circles around her neck. Lithuania watches as she gathers her hair to one side for better access to the tender spot behind her ear.

When she pulls the handkerchief away she eyes it curiously – there are faint red marks – then shrugs and tosses it towards Lithuania. He lets it fall to the floor.

"You're staying here with me," he says.

Belarus glances at him, her mouth a tight line, expression unconvinced.