Lithuania was dusting his bookshelf, humming softly, when Latvia wandered into his room, shaking.

"His hands are big," Latvia told him, with his eyes lowered, as Lithuania guided him towards the bed. "And cold."

"Yes," Lithuania said, awkward, as his brother crawled into his lap. He threaded his fingers through Latvia's hair gently and lifted his head up slightly so Latvia could bury his face in Lithuania's neck. He tried to shield his brothers from Russia's insanity, but he wasn't always successful.

Latvia tilted his head up. His eyes were wild. "Does he touch you like that too?"

"That would depend on how he touches you," Lithuania said as he moved his hand down to Latvia's back, smoothing down his little brother's hair while he did so, "But, probably, yes."

"I thought so," Latvia said. His voice was low and very quiet. "He used to say your name sometimes when you were America."

"I'm s -"

"He still does," Latvia continued. He grabbed Lithuania's shirt, wrapping the material around his hands, and pushed him down. "I don't like it."

Lithuania's heartbeat picked up quite a bit, but he was able to school it. He'd had plenty of practice of doing so. He kept rubbing Latvia's back slowly and gently.

"He shouldn't go inside of you anymore," Latvia said, nails dug into Lithuania's chest. This was familiar during these episodes, but still painful. Lithuania clenched his teeth to force himself to stay quiet, knowing his brother wasn't himself at the moment.

"It's okay," Lithuania lied.

"No," Latvia said, his shoulders beginning to shake. "Only I should."

That, too, wasn't new.

Latvia pressed his face back in Lithuania's neck, weeping. Lithuania wrapped his arms around his brother and murmured quiet, comforting lies.