Disclaimer: Hetalia not mine
Prologue
Rain.
The steady rhythm of the falling droplets was soothing, a familiar pattern that brought just a slight bit of console to one's unsettling spirit. The cemetery, a ghostly site that separated the living from the shadows of afterlife, only added to the sombre atmosphere. Its wooden fence rattled and buckled under the howling wind. Under the overcast sky, the smell of freshly dug-up dirt prickled uncomfortably at his nose. Sweden stood impassively in the pouring weather. And though his vision blurred by this heavy outpour of precipitation, he cannot help but stare ahead at the small figured man in front. Beside him, an anxious Finland trembled as he attempted to keep the three of them under the tiny black umbrella. But Sweden simply pushed his wife away.
Plip, plop, plip, plop
The cold was fogging up his glasses.
Plip, plop, plip, plop
He could feel a drop of wetness crawling down his back.
Plip, plop, plip, plop
His hands were beginning to numb, as he could no longer feel the cold water sliding down his fingertips.
"C'mon guys!" Finland begged and reached for his husband's hand. Sweden squeezed back but still he did not look at the pleading Finn.
"You're all going to catch a cold this way!" Finland yelled through the pouring rain. "We've been standing here for hours! Everybody's gone already. Let's go home!"
"Not goin' 'til he does." was Sweden's brief reply.
"Norway" the frustrated Finn turned desperately to their silent friend in front of them. Said friend who still hadn't moved since the service had concluded. Said friend who was going to get a very bad case of pneumonia if he didn't dry up soon. With a quiet sigh, Finland's hand hesitantly left his husband's to reach for the Norwegian. "Norway, c'mon, let's go!"
No answer.
Frustrated, Finland snapped. "Can you just listen to me?" With the amount of force not expected from a man his size, he pulled the blank-faced Norwegian towards him. The murky grey sky effortlessly concealed the Finn's miserable expression. His fingers clutched tightly at the taller man's arms and shook him violently. "Norway! I know you're upset, we all are! But you're stronger than this! Snap out of it!"
A loud crack of thunder and still no answer.
"Norway!" Finland let go of the tears he fought so hard to keep in. The warm salty droplets mixed rather perfectly with the cold harsh rain, each one tugging a painful string in Sweden's heart. "Norway…" The Finn slowly in defeat loosened his grip on the Norwegian's arms. He fell hard on his knees, muffling a loud sob in his hands. The umbrella, now on the soggy ground, fluttered helplessly in the howling wind.
"Fin," Sweden could no longer turn a blind eye to his wife's cries. He stepped forward and took the small Finn in his arms, cradling the blond against his chest. His eyes though, were focused diligently on Norway. "Where ya goin' to go now?"
Norway looked back at the Swede coldly, revealing nothing in his vacant cerulean eyes.
"Ya can stay w'th us 'f ya want." Sweden persisted. "We've an 'xtra room."
The Norwegian turned away, ignoring the offer. Instead, he waddled unsteadily forward to the fresh patch of overturned dirt in front of him. Expressive blue eyes trained on the newly carved gravestone placed not so long ago in the burial service. Without a word, he knelt down and traced his fingers around it, caressing it as if it was a face.
"Nor!" Sweden gently settled the teary Finn into a sitting position before he stood up, flashing an irate glare at the pale blond man by the grave. This was beginning to get ridiculous. "W're goin' home!" Lunging forward, he grabbed the Norwegian tightly by the arm and tried to pull him up. And though his strength left skids of angry red marks on the man's thin wrist, Norway managed to wriggle free.
Plip, plop, plip, plop.
Finland stood up and wobbled shakily to the forgotten umbrella. With his fingers stiff and cold from the wet rain, he grasped the handle tightly and turned to the impassive Norwegian. Sweden stood his ground and watched his wife in curiosity.
"Norge," the Finn whispered as he lowered himself to be at eye level with the kneeling Norwegian. Traces of tears were still evident on his face as he held the small umbrella between them and offered a tentative smile. When the Norwegian did not reply, he gently took his hand; fingers stroked in disapproval at the angry marks Sweden left and whispered soothingly, as if he was offering comfort to a frightened child. "It's going to be alright, okay Nor? It's going to be alright. Let's go home."
Norway glared at him.
Plip, plop, plip, plop.
"Norge," Finland continued patiently. His voice, though quiet, resonated loud and clear in the deafening rain. "He's gone, Nor. Iceland's gone. Staying here will not bring him back."
The Norwegian slapped down harshly on the Finn's arm, knocking the umbrella out of his hands. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at the weeping sky, allowing the unforgiving raindrops to hit his face. Head shaking violently in denial, the thin-figured body shivered in the pitiless wind.
"Nor," Sweden stepped forward and placed his large blue coat over the smaller man's trembling shoulders. His voice cracked slightly as the sorrow thickened and welled up his throat. "Ice's de'd."
Norway continued to shake his head, utterly ignoring the Swede's words. The ghost of a wild-looking smile danced around his lips.
Finland pulled the shivering Norwegian in his arms. "Nor…" He held on tightly, disregarding any possible resistance from the latter man. With a pained smile he whispered, gentle words masked with the necessary façade of strength, "I'm sorry. But we've been here for hours. Ice's gone, dead, buried, and he's never coming back. You can't change that! So please," he whispered into Norway's shoulders.
For the first time in hours, Norway responded. He gently writhed out of the Finn's protective arms and stared at him, eyes tinted with confusion and innocent naïveté. "What do you mean?" he asked softly. Finland shivered, from the cold, but more from the terrifying emptiness in the Norwegian's raspy voice.
"What are you talking about Fin?" Norway laughed humourlessly, an expression he hardly ever displayed to the rest of the world. "Ice's right here."
And with that he gestured to the painfully vacant space near Finland's breaking heart.
…
Plip, plop, plip, plop