Bad Habits

~Denmark~

It was late, extremely late, one evening. There was a soft glow coming from a cabin in the woods. Snow fell like specs of dimand dust, the wind carrying it across the trees. This was an extremely isolated part of the country, but for a reason. The country's representative lived here, everyone called him Denmark, on account that he was basically the country itself. He was an extremely peculiar Dane, with his spiky blonde hair and blue eyes. Oh the blue eyes, ones that could put ice to shame.

Though, this Dane had his quirks, like everyone else. He had a few... bad... habits. One of them, everyone knew about. Denmark, unfortunately, was a drunk. He loved his alcohol, and it loved him back. As far as he knew, he wasn't even on the planet when he had one topped off. On this evening, though, the Dane was worse than usual. At the moment, he's working on his 3rd case, drowning his sorrows away. Not that he even has any.

As he gently lifted the bottle to his lips, the amber liquid flowed down his throat. It was a bittersweet taste he knew well. Denmark's icy eyes had dulled to ocean waters, glazed over with the continuous buzz he had going. This was the worst one yet, the worst night he spent alone. Although his vision was blurred, and his muscles unstable, he stood up. One step at a time, he made his way over to his coat, hanging up on the rack. It took him a few minutes, but he found what he was looking for at last.

A small paper package, green and white striped, with the label "MENTHOL" in gold letters. After another minute or two, Denmark stumbled back to his couch, plopping down, and sliding out a lighter from his pocket. Tapping the butt of the package, a cigarette fell out into the Dane's lap. Realizing what had happened, Denmark grabbed it up, stuck one end in his mouth, and lit it. The rush of the menthol went down his airways and a heavy sigh came afterward.

"Belgium, why don't you love me?"

The Dane muttered to a picture of his favorite person in the whole world.

Belgium.

In his eyes, Belgium had no flaws, and she never would. Denmark was madly in love with the Belgian woman, but alas, love can never go the way you want it to. It's like a fire. Once it's sprung in your heart, it's hard to put out, and drowning it with alcohol doesn't help much.

After another swig of beer, and a few more puffs from the cigarette, Denmark trailed off to his bedroom. The clock struck midnight and he had just gotten to sleep.

"Belgium! Bel, c'mere! Pretty please with a danish on top!"

She just turned and laughed at him, "Oh Den, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm busy."

The Danish man was persistent though, and he kept trying. Trying and trying and trying again, until he finally got the Belgian's interests. She walked over to him, in her kitchen, and asked what he wanted. It was then that he made his move. Snaking his arm around her waist, and his hand under her chin, Denmark whispered into her ear.

"Bel, I love you. I can't imagine being with anyone but you."

Belgium shoved him away, her hair covering her face. "Den, don't do that. Get out, Denmark."

Denmark looked at her sorrowfully, his usually smiling face turning into a thin line. "B-But... Bel-"

"Get out Denmark!"

Her voice rang through his head. The words shifting around...

"Get out Denmark! Get out Denmark! Get out Denmark! C'mon Denmark, get-"

"UP! Denmark, I mean it, GET UP!"

The Dane's eyes slowly fluttered open to meet those of Norway.

"Geez, Denmark, this place is a mess! What did you do last night?"

Denmark brought his hand up to his eyes, muttering, "N-Nor, quiet down, please. I need some quiet." Norway just stared at him, knowing all to well what had been going on.

"Beer?"

"Yeah..."

"I told you that stuff was bad for you. You and your bad habits..."