When Estonia rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his glasses nudged just above his eyebrows, and was then gently readjusted onto his nose. His body begged him to rest but his mind remained restless. There was no reason for it, at least not that Estonia could pinpoint, but sometimes the two just didn't cooperate with one another.

On nights like these, he retreats to his piano in the living room where it sat comfortably between two bookshelves against the wall. Music filled the room as his fingers glided across the keys. When he was locked away in his own world, he was free to run wild and play something of his own creation. Though there was no reason for it, the music he decided tonight was sombre in tone.

Estonia wasn't keeping tabs on the large wooden clock ticking behind him. One song became two, and two became three. But his eyes flew open when the sound of a loud chime coming from his phone on top of the piano interrupted the fourth song, startling him as his fingers hit the wrong set of keys. A frustrated groan escaped his lips when he turned to see it was almost one in the morning on the clock.

"Who's texting me at this hour?" he frowned as he reached for his phone on top of the piano. His irritation was quickly forgotten once he saw Finland's name above a text message on the screen.

Are you still going to the potluck this weekend?

Estonia was drawing a blank. Potluck? What potluck? Oh—

He had completely forgotten about the potluck that Belgium was organizing. Her invite was still sitting on his coffee table, and had been there for nearly two weeks.

Another text came through.

And don't leave me on read!! I know you're still up.

Finland ended his text with a cheeky emoji, which drew a small chuckle. He typed out a quick response while walking from his piano bench to his favourite lounge chair by the window.

I'm not leaving you on read! Just needed a moment to think. I honestly forgot about the potluck. Why are YOU still up?!

I'm in Canada with my boss for a meeting. It's still evening here. And you didn’t answer the question!

Right. He forgot about that too.

Sorry. I accepted Belgium's invite but I'm still unsure if I should go.

After a few minutes of waiting, it was now Finland's turn to leave him hanging. Estonia leaned back into his chair and he turned his focus towards the bookshelves. Not only were they filled with books about music, computers, folklore, and space; they contained the sentimental pieces of his past. Little wooden figurines dressed in various folk costumes and framed photographs decorated several shelves. Some photos were recent: like the one on the second shelf when he invited the Nordics and the two Baltics to celebrate Midsummer at his cottage in Hiiumaa. Others like the one on the fourth and top shelf were from a bygone era, a time when he was newly independent and his circle of friendships were smaller. Too much time had passed to remember why they were taken, but something in him felt the need to keep them displayed in his home.

Finally, Finland's reply came up when his phone chimed.

Why??? Everyone's excited to see you. Is it because of the last one?

Estonia was fixated at the screen as he thought carefully over his response. That played a big part in it—not just for him but for Latvia and Lithuania too. Canada had done his best to play host, but once America arrived with too many surprise guests, all of whom were celebrities, the party couldn't be contained. The three of them largely stayed at their table, completely ignored by everyone else, including those they considered their friends. Much of the food they brought had gone to waste by being left uneaten. The three of them agreed they were done with potlucks for the time being after that night.

He never got a chance to form a reply before Finland sent over a follow-up text.

I'm guessing that's a yes. I'm sorry about last time but this one will be different! It's just a potluck for us Europeans this time. I promise, people want you there. I want you there! Please come.

Damn it Finland, Estonia thought. Adding a sad emoji felt so tacky, but he knew how to tug on his heartstrings when it came to words.

Fine. But only because you're going too. What should I bring?

Can you bring that rhubarb pie from last time? I'm still having dreams about that thing.

For the first time that night, it felt like Estonia could finally smile.

Sure. It's a deal.

Latvia was ready to throw his phone into the river. Everyone wouldn't stop texting him after he stormed out of a meeting with the other Baltic leaders present.

The number of unread messages had taunted him all afternoon. They kept coming even as he was typing a reply to Belgium's text over his attendance to the potluck. He was doing his best to keep his words as courteous as possible. It wasn't her fault that he was in such a sour mood.

Yeah, I'm still coming. I’ll bring a honey cake.

Latvia hesitated for a brief moment before clicking send. He really didn't want to attend. But if Estonia and Lithuania were going, then so was he.

He didn't bother waiting for a response from Belgium. Instead, he chose to shut off his phone completely and tucked it inside his grey work bag that was draped off his left shoulder. Dark clouds were rolling in from the west. A storm was on its way and he needed to head home soon.

Weaving through the crowds of locals and tourists alike, he took a detour through Brīvības bulvāris instead of heading back towards Riga Castle where he started his journey. There was no real reason for him to come by here, as his home was located across the bridge in Āgenskalns. But Latvia couldn't shake off the anger he felt in his chest. Each time the words replay in his mind, he clenches his jaw and his emotions reach a tipping point.

"Wish we had someone like them instead of him."

Even though most of the attendees didn’t hear that, Lithuania and Estonia did. No one in the room was prepared for their wrath as they shouted "Show some respect!" in unison. Their glares were cold as everyone watched in fear, unsure what had just taken place. The man behind him, a recent hire who was fresh out of university, was beet-red as he was quickly ushered out of the room. The only thing the president could do was wipe the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief, praying that the incident wouldn't make the press.

Latvia couldn't decide at that moment whether he wanted to scream, cry, punch him in the mouth, or all of the above. It was one thing to be mistaken as a teenager—something he faced on a regular basis—but the thought that one of his own citizens didn't think he was worthy enough to represent them? He was a man who was over a thousand years old, had been through Hell and back with the scars to prove it, and yet that had to have been the deepest wound anyone could have dealt to him. He wished he could have given him a piece of his mind, but all he could do was run away in shame.

Light raindrops began to dampen his black suit when he passed by a small group of tourists who were snapping photos of the Freedom Monument. A woman could be heard speaking English in a heavy Latvian accent, and was explaining the history of the monument to the crowd.

Latvia's gloomy eyes met with that of the woman crafted in stone on top of the monument. Every time he came here, he always felt her stare right through his chest.

If only they knew what you've become...

Lithuania's eyes felt so heavy staring at the monitor. This was his third time reviewing this press release, and yet he was still finding errors in the document. He cursed loudly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, this all had to happen on a Friday.

Unbeknownst to him, one of the ministers was standing in the doorway of his office. With a knock on the door, Lithuania looked up from his desk, looking visibly exhausted with dark circles underneath his eyes.

"You're here late. Everyone else left more than an hour ago."

"I have some translation work for one of our embassies to finish," Lithuania explained. "This one has to go out on Monday morning, but I keep finding mistakes every time I look over it. I guess my German isn't what it used to be."

Lithuania cracked a nervous laugh to lighten the mood, but the minister's expression remained stone-cold.

"You need to go home. You look horrible."

"Thanks," Lithuania replied sarcastically. "I'll be fine. One more hour and I should be done."

Lithuania wasn't prepared for the minister to walk into his office and push down on the lid of his laptop, forcing the system into sleep mode. He was about to protest but was immediately cut off.

"Go. Home." The minister stressed. "Don't make me get the President on the phone."

Knowing he had no way out of this, Lithuania groaned and admitted defeat. "Fine. You win."

Lithuania began packing up his laptop and notebooks into his leather briefcase. When he reached to grab his water bottle, the small calendar next to the monitor caught his eye. The following day had been circled repeatedly in a red pen. His eyes quickly grew wide.

"What's wrong?"

"I completely forgot about Belgium's potluck tomorrow," Lithuania bit his bottom lip lightly when he anxiously turned to face the minister. "I don’t even know what to bring."

The minister shrugged his shoulders. "It's a potluck, so you can bring anything you want, right? I’m sure you'll figure it out." He walked up to Lithuania and gently patted his shoulder, both to comfort him and to signal that he needed to speed things up. "Now hurry up. I'll walk you to your car."

Lithuania struggled to shake off the nerves when he placed the calendar back in its proper spot on his desk. It wasn't like him to forget an important event. He rushed to pack the rest of his belongings, and the two men walked out together. The minister carried much of the conversation, mainly asking if Latvia was doing alright after what took place at the meeting in Riga, as they walked down a flight of stairs that led towards the main lobby of the building.

At some point during their conversation, the minister made an off-hand comment about a dish Lithuania shared with them at a recent event. It was as if a light bulb went off in his mind when he snapped his fingers. The minister had never seen Lithuania’s green eyes beaming with so much excitement.

"Tinginys! I can bring Tinginys to the potluck!"

"Look who decided to finally show up!"

The late-evening sun was beaming down on Estonia and Lithuania as the two men stood in the driveway of Belgium's vacation home. In the distance, Latvia could be seen walking towards the property with a bag in each hand.

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," Latvia said as he pulled a bottle of Latvian balsam from one of his bags. "But you can't show up to a party without a gift for the host."

Estonia's arms were crossed when he rolled his eyes. "You bought that for yourself. You know Belgium isn't going to drink any of that. The least you could have brought was some wine."

"Did not!" Latvia shouted. "I just thought I’d share a drink with everyone that's popular from my home. And if I’m the only one that ends up drinking it, so be it."

Once Latvia put this bottle back in his bag, he looked back up at Estonia and scoffed at him.

"And what about you? I don't see you holding any bags."

Estonia pointed towards the bag Lithuania was holding. He was about to speak up, but Lithuania cut him off.

"It’s in here with my cake,” Lithuania said as he lifted the bag, looking deeply annoyed. He had had enough of their bickering and began walking towards Belgium's door.

"If you two are done, let's head in. I'm roasting out here."

Estonia and Latvia looked at one another, sheepishly, and followed closely behind. Once at the door, the three men stood next to one another: Lithuania in the middle, Estonia to his right, and Latvia to his left.

"Alright, remember the plan," Lithuania said. "We stay for one hour, and that's all."

"Works for me," Latvia replied. "It’s not like anyone's going to notice we left."

Estonia hummed in agreement, but he was starting to have second thoughts. If what Finland said was true, their night could be surprisingly different.

Lithuania raised his knuckle to knock, but to the group’s surprise, the door flew open before he could. It was Belgium greeting them in the doorway with her bright green eyes and infectious smile.

"I knew I heard voices outside! I'm so glad you could make it."

She stepped aside and waved them in.

"Please come in! I can take your bags."

Belgium held out her right hand, and the two men gave her their bags. Her voice trailed through the hallway as she retreated to the kitchen. "Oh! And the shoe racks are on your right in the closet. There's some spare slippers if you need them."

Lithuania and Estonia chose to stick with just their socks, while Latvia took the only pair of grey house slippers that would fit his small feet. Belgium could be heard humming a tune when the three of them passed by the kitchen. They were immediately captivated by her elaborate setup. Two tables were pushed together in the middle of the room and were draped with a cute strawberry-patterned tablecloth. Each guest had a handmade name tag with their assigned dish. They watched as Belgium carefully unwrapped all the dishes and placed them in their respective spots. She then pulled out the bottle of balsam, which got an audible "Oooh!" from her—and a noticeable smirk from Latvia—before tossing the bags underneath the table.

She playfully winked at the trio, "Are you three going to stare at me all night?"

Lithuania and Estonia's cheeks flushed a light pink when they gave her a timid grin, while Latvia remained largely indifferent.

"Sorry," Estonia said, "We were just admiring the setup."

Lithuania nodded in agreement, "It's obvious you've put a lot of work into this."

She thanked them with her famous warm grin, "I love hosting events like these, so I'm always happy to go all out."

Belgium then turned towards the entrance of the living room, with the bottle of balsam cradled in her arms. She encouraged the three men to follow her.

"Now c'mon! Everyone's waiting to see you."

They did as they were told. When Belgium entered the room, she announced their arrival to the other guests and proceeded to make her way towards a gold-coloured serving cart by the window, where she left the bottle for everyone to enjoy. The three were taken aback when excitement erupted in the room.

Finland was the first to walk up to the group. He pulled Estonia in for a hug, not once spilling the glass of lager in his right hand.

"You made it!" Finland cheered, patting Estonia's back three times. Before Estonia could utter a word, Finland took him by the hand and pulled him towards the serving cart.

"You have to try this new beer Den brought. It's insanely good!"

From the sofa, the two men turned their heads to their left when a feminine voice called out Latvia's name. It was Liechtenstein, sitting with Iceland, tapping the empty seat between them.

"Come join us!"

Latvia couldn't stop himself from grinning when he made a dash to claim his place on the sofa. That left Lithuania all on his lonesome, but not for long when Hungary came over with two glasses of Fröccs. She handed him one, to which he graciously accepted with a thank you. A clear and bubbly liquid, he noticed it faintly tasted like cucumbers when he took a quick sip.

"Glad you could finally make it," Hungary said. "Everyone was worried you guys weren't going to show up."

Lithuania froze as he caught her stare. "Seriously?"

Hungary nodded. "Yeah, you three were the last to sign up. You know we're all have friends here, right? You're always welcomed here."

A part of Lithuania remained skeptical, but deep down he knew Hungary's words were true. She wasn't the type to lie about something like that.

"Yeah, I know." Lithuania sighed. A sense of relief washed through him. "We get into our own heads sometimes."

Her smile softened. "I get it. We're all guilty of it. But you're here with us now, and that’s all that matters."

Hungary lifted her drink and offered a toast.

"Let’s have some fun."

Hungary finally got him to smile, much to her delight. When he indulged in her offer, she was free to take Lithuania by the hand and lead him into the crowd of other nations, who were excitedly awaiting his arrival.

What was supposed to be an hour became two, and then became three—or so the men thought. No one was keeping track anymore. It was moments like these that reminded them they didn't just have each other to lean on.