A vase crashes to the floor, the glass shattering into a million fragments. You barely notice, though your eyes are still trained towards the floor and the glittering shards now resting there. You hear a voice, insistent but strained and rather dull in the distance that is now separating you, so your mind can't help but start to wander again.
You think of warm summer days, the kind of days that never seem to lose their luster in your memory, even if they weren't all that amazing to begin with. It was the Finnish countryside, after all. The sun was probably a bit dimmer than you think it is, the grass a little less lush. The water probably froze instead of soothed, and you were probably never so careless. Memory has a way of idealizing things, stretching and moulding them to fit the way you think your life should have turned out. What seems to matter most to you is that it was the Finnish countryside, and nothing else.
Your mind then slowly slips out of this gentle reverie, and gradually moves into a more stimulating one. There's lots of people, and liquor is flowing like water. You're not even drunk, you think, but it's as if you're under some sort of influence, and it's pulling you to mingle and dance with the people surrounding you. Upon further inspection, you realize that they're your people. You know them. You can feel them in every fibre of your person. You have never felt less human.
You are them.
You are..
You are here. A large hand on your shoulder rudely bestows humanity on you once again, and now, you are here. A face is brought level with your own, and you hear a strangely small voice speak to you.
"I love you so much, Tino.."
That puts a definite end to your dreaming. You are here, and here is a hotel room in New York City. It is you who broke the vase. Your marriage that's crumbling.
"I...how dare you!" Something's bubbling up inside you and your eyes widen. "I've given everything, invested everything I had in this!" You've switched to English. You get the feeling you won't be speaking Swedish again for a very long time.
"Don't tall like that, please, please don't talk like that.."
Sweden's tearing up now. You decide to press your advantage. Sweden had taken all the kindness you had given him and thrown it right back into your face.
"Do you love her?"
"Tino!"
"I bet she was beautiful. I bet she was beautiful, and pretty and she never ever thought to disagree with you, and never thought to leave the space in your arms, because you were her heart and her soul!" You finish only half-mockingly, your face flushing and nose sneering. You continue: "Did you ever talk about having children?"
"Tino!" Sweden has never looked so desperate. "It was...twice. Two times. It was...a mistake."
"A mistake!" Your shrill voice overrides Sweden's meek one. "Sweden, words must be failing you. Switch back to Swedish, why don't you? This isn't a mistake!"
"Don't believe that, please-"
"This is a punishment, this a punishment for daring to have interests outside being your wife. This is my punishment for being unable to bear you children!"
"You're insane!" Sweden yells, though his tone somehow sounds more apologetic then outraged. "I don't care if I never have any children."
You aren't sure if your mind is just taking over again, but you detect a hollowness in Sweden's words. Your head nods forward and you sigh.
"Berwald... you can't really believe that I've always been myself with you."
Berwald's face falls into a confused look, and he wearily motions for you to continue.
"You can't think that everything that happened in my life was completely my choice-"
Sweden moves forward and violently grabs your face in his hands.
"No! Nothing was our choice! Nations don't get those, Tino! Don't you understand? What matters is that we loved each other!"
You stare up into Berwald's handsome face and part of you wishes that you could not be yourself again. That you could be his wife again. But then you remember that you are in New York City because you are Finland, and you are attending a United Nations conference. As Finland.
"We love each other", you correct him simply then gently remove his hands from your face."But I am myself now." You turn your back to him, walk softly to the hotel door, and rest your hand on the handle. You turn it, ever slowly, then gradually pull it open, letting your ears fill with all the sounds of a high-class hotel. You take a step, then check yourself. Turn around.
"I'm leaving. I don't need my things."
"Tino, don't-" Sweden opens his mouth to say more, but then closes it and adopts a resigned expression. He at least knows you well enough to know he can't stop you now. Not now. Despite everything's that's existed between you, and you are quite sure that there is no other couple out there with that much history, he has irrevocably breached your trust. You hate him for it even as you still love him.
But then, Sweden never really was the only man you loved.
You step across the barrier, and you are Finland.
A/N: Note: Peter does not exist in my Hetaliaverse.
Hmm. Well. I haven't written in a year. After many, many misfires and stillborn projects, I finally got a piece off the ground. The first parts that took place in Finland's mind really just flowed. I've always been better at writing from inside character's heads. The dialogue part was more difficult. Not too sure about it. I know all you hxc SuFin fans out there probably hate the idea of Sweden cheating on sweet Tino (heck, there's probably some that hate the idea of Tino not being, well, sweet) , but I don't buy the image many fans have of Berwald being this perfect husband/protector/saint. I think he has problems besides a speech impediment. Likewise, my Tino is not the passive, painfully simple wife that some (yes, probably the Author as well) see him as. He's been through hell. I still write him as being more feminine and maternal than the others (though it probably doesn't come across in this scene at all), and I have no problems with gay couples that are "heteronormative" or seme/uke, etc. I do have a problem with the idea that Seme= abuser/rapist/master and Uke= abusee/rapee/servant (I mean seriously, can't a male character be feminine without being a doormat or a cartoon character?
OKAY, I've basically written a novel so I'm going to stop myself now. I hope you enjoyed, and I would, as always, love feedback! Thank you everyone!