A/N: A huge thank you to Vevici for beta-reading my story!

Hurray!

For when he woke up, he could see his fingers before his face. It meant his head was still there, though slightly greasy, laying on the white pillow. His body was also still there, buried under the white sheets. The body which connected his arms to his head, making them move, grab, feel.

Denmark has come to accept that everything around him was real. Just a few moments ago he would have sworn that reality was far different from this, but turns out it was only a dream.

His apartment's interior was dominantly white. Except for the kitchen, where the furniture were silvery grey, and the red sofa in the living room. Not that Denmark had a lot of furniture in his apartment; he liked open space and minimalism.

Yet the room he was laying in was grey and the air was stale. It pinned him down on the bed in which he lay. It was so dark that even the sheets that he clutched onto seemed grey, though he knew he changed it just yesterday. The muted light and the atmosphere explained one thing; it was morning.

Denmark opened his curtains to let the misty light in his room. After a moment of thought, he also opened his balcony doors. A gust of chilly air blew into the room making goose bumps appear on his uncovered back. He leaned on the balcony railing and took a deep breath. It was far too early; it was far too quiet. The sky was cloudy, yet so bright. It was white. For a moment he felt pure, then bittersweet, then sad.

Then, again he felt guilty, he felt bad. About what, he did not know, but it haunted him so.

Denmark scrunched his nose and placed his is face in his hand. Then his telephone rang. His heart skipped a beat. It felt as if a needle pierced it.

"I shouldn't get so excited." Denmark whispered to himself.

It was Finland calling.

Denmark picked up the phone, "Hello!" he greeted.

"Hey, Mathias! You awake?" Finland's cheery voice crackled through the speaker. By the sound of it you could tell that the he was up and fresh for at least an hour now.

Denmark swallowed a small imaginary ball in his throat before replying, "Yeah, I just woke up."

"Did you call Olav yesterday?"

"No. Not yet."

"Well, call him. Hope you at least notified Berwald that you're going to Stockholm."

"Yeah I did."

Denmark slowly entered his bathroom and turned on the slightly yellowish light in the room. While still talking to Finland, he looked himself in the mirror to see his own facial expressions.

"…and what did he say?"

Denmark puckered his lips, furrowed his brows and all the while making that hideous face to his mirror, he replied, " 'U-hu' ."

"Hahahaha! How typical of him! So I guess you'll have to raid the local pubs on your own for tonight. Just call Olav. He'll accompany you. 'kay bye."

"Hee, bye."

"Oh and what's up with your voice? Cheer up! I didn't invite you just so you could whine all day. See you later!"

Denmark put his phone on the sink near the toothpaste. The sink was dry at the moment, but even if it wasn't that would hardly change Denmark's actions. Slowly his eyes went up and faced his own reflection. He looked tired. His face was slightly swollen and his eyes were irritated.

He pulled his tongue out teasingly and started mimicking to the mirror. "Whiny attitude~! Blah-blah-blah~! Heh, at least I don't need to take a bunch of antidepressants to pull a smile."

Indeed, he was smiling to himself in the mirror. He loved his face. His features were big and bright. Washing them in cold water was a delight. He flickered his long wet eyelashes against his cheeks. It tickled.

With a toothbrush in his mouth, he continued flirting with himself in the mirror. He dug his hand into his grown out hair and caught himself on the thought that it needs washing. Not now though, not while he was having so much fun playing with it. Dirt was better than hair-gel; it made the best kind of forms with his hair.

"Rawr, like a lion!"

After being done with his personal hygiene Denmark went to the kitchen, got his coffee and searched his medicine cabin for those antidepressants. He would not use them today. He just placed them on the table near the bed on which he was about to sit.

Doctors say that the increase of Denmark's population using antidepressants decreased the suicide frequency. That's why Denmark was willing to take them happy pills if it meant that somebody won't jump down the apartment building and appear laying under his window in the morning. After all, what Denmark does directly influences his people, or maybe it was the other way around.

Anyway, had to keep up with that image of the happiest country in the world.

In the world, Denmark was also known for being the second biggest consumer of antidepressants. His little brother Iceland being the first and the third being Sweden. Those statistics also mimicked the suicide rates where Iceland was doing a bit better than Denmark and Sweden was doing a bit worse. His brothers were never too far away from him in any statistics.

Norway was just one position above him in the suicide charts.

"Right. Norway."

In a flash he was in the bathroom to retrieve his phone and then in the next second he was back on his bed. He grabbed his mug from the cupboard and loudly slurped on its contents. With his phone in the other hand, he quickly dialed Norway's number.

"Hey! Olav! It's Mathias! Great to hear you! So here's the deal: me, Tino, Eduard, booze, girls and fish! So what do you think?"

Denmark became a bit red in the face from the anticipation of the answer. Or maybe it was just the steam from the coffee.

"Uh? What are you talking about, you numbskull?" Norway grunted in reply.

"A fishing trip in Finland. Today. The ferry comes somewhere past midnight though."

A few seconds of dead silence passed.

"Olav?"

"W-wait. Why ferry? Why not take a plane?"

"Oh that. I just want to take my car with me. I'm going by car to Stockholm and then by ferry to Helsinki."

"Right… You know. You should just ride your bike to Helsinki. With the way you paddle, it will be a whole lot faster."

"Hahaha! You flatter me. But yes, I am taking my bike with me as well."

"Does Sweden know you're coming?"

"Yes."

"Didn't tell me anything about it… Nevermind. I can't."

"Aw, come on! I know you love fish."

Norway made a voice that was close to possessed. "More than you will ever know…"

"Ahahahaha, oh my god, you sicko! Ah, brings a tear to my eye. So, why can't you come, especially when I have such an ace to tempt you with?"

"Oh shut up, you got nothing on me. I can't come because I've already planned to go to a rock fest at Gothenburg. Should have called me earlier. But I don't think that would have changed anything."

"Oh."

"Sweden is performing."

"Oh! Really now?"

"Yeah. In a warm up band…"

"Oh, okay. Cool... Wait. So he's not even in Stockholm this evening." Denmark rubbed the back of his neck, "Explains why he didn't care that I'm coming. Rude. Could have told me."

Both of them became quiet. There was nothing really to talk about anymore. This is the part were you say goodbye.

"You know. You can visit us on your way… If you want to."

"Is that an invitation?" – Denmark's voice sounded like a little kid's on Christmas Eve.

"Pfft! A suggestion."

"Oh okay. I'll try to stop by. Just don't tell Sweden I'll be there. Let's make it a surprise."

"U-hu." That couldn't sound more apathetic. And darn! He sounded just like Sweden.

"So see you, I guess. Got to get packing."

"Goodbye."

"Bye…" Like almost a whisper. But it took the breath out of his lungs; it hurt to know that his little baby brother probably didn't think of Denmark as his brother at all. Norway was better off spending time with Sweden than with Denmark. But what hurt him most was how coldly Norway said goodbye.

Hearing that felt like Denmark was about to be buried alive.