Hey everyone! This is a story based off of Gutters by glassamilk. The prompt was inspired by Tumblr user dorkdenmark. I, in no way, own Hetalia, the prompt, nor the idea of Gutters. I hope you all enjoy!
He awakens to a bright light, one so harsh he can't get his eyes to open much more than a squint. It takes a minute to gather his bearings, a sense of calm dread pooling in his empty-feeling stomach. The need to vomit arises as memories begin to flood his mind. Ash, ash everywhere, and the stench of dead, decaying bodies sends his body into violent tremors for a moment before he really truly remembers. He remembers Sealand, traversing deadly cities and towns, the ash slowly killing him, the other countries they encountered (cringing at the thought of Netherlands), the explosion that originally killed him, and that night, that beautiful night where they were all once again together, a family. It's all too real, he thinks, tears leaking from his eyes. He's dead, he has to be dead. Yet, as he manages to open his eyes, he isn't greeted with the afterlife. Instead, he's viewing white walls and five eager faces staring patiently at him from afar.
At first he's confused, one look out the nearest window and he is greeted with the strangest sight of lush trees, blue skies, and green. The sight brings tears to his eyes. Then, it finally hits him, he can see. It takes him a moment, attempting to blink back the heavy stream of insistent tears as it finally hits him. He's okay, he's breathing, and he's alive. Everyone's alive, and everything is okay in the world, which is a hard thing for him to understand at the moment. he can't quite tell the difference between what is true and what is a false reality quite yet.
Turning to the silent yet relieved five figures hovering near him, his face lands on the youngest boy, the familiar sailor suit catching his attention, and he cries. He gestures the to the boy who steps forward, and he pulls him into a tight embrace, crying and mumbling words that, while at first indistinguishable, turn into the quiet sobs of "M'sorry."
The other five occupants of the room began to worry, their brother, lover, and friend seemed to be spewing absolute nonsense. They couldn't quite comprehend the different words the Dane was saying. What did "The Calamity" mean? What did pineapple and beer have to do with anything? And, why was he apologizing to the young micronation?
"D-Denmark, what's wrong?" Finland finally asks, breaking the silence that enraptured the room, though not quelling Denmark's sobs.
"Y're all okay. Ev'rything's okay." Denmark lets out a laugh through his calming sobs, holding Sealand's face in his hands and kissing his forehead every other minute. "Y're okay, kiddo. Y're so brave." Tears still fall from his eyes, unnerving the other five in the room. The Dane couldn't keep his eyes off the occupants of the room. They were clean, dressed in normal clothing, intact, and okay.
"What happened? What're you talking about?" Norway asks with a mix of fear, love, and happiness written on his face.
"'S a long story." Denmark says, eyes flickering between Sealand and the Nordics periodically, his hands never leaving the micronation's face. It was as if the Dane was terrified that if his gaze strayed for too long, they'd all disappear without a trace.
"D' ye remember what 'appened" Sweden asked, stoic as ever.
"No" Denmark replied genuinely after a few seconds of deliberation.
"You were being and idiot and fell off a tree while trying to show off several weeks ago. Den, you've been in a coma." Norway said, moving forward a step.
"A coma?" Denmark reiterated, racking his brain for any recollection of what happened. It was difficult, unable to differentiate anything in the muddled mess that is his brain; and, after many minutes of attempting to remember, all he could gather was a blank spot and nothing. "I guess I really don't remember much of what happened."
His sobs had dissipated into the occasional hiccup, tears occasionally leaking out of his eyes in bouts as a memory, a false reality, would resurface.
Before anyone could reply, a doctor came in; requesting them to leave briefly so the doctor could ensure the Dane's condition was stable. With one last squeeze and kiss on the forehead, Denmark released Sealand hesitantly, letting him go out of the room with his parents. Iceland followed as well, but Norway stayed behind, approaching Denmark carefully. He opened his mouth to say something, but before any noise could escape, Denmark captured his lips in a brief kiss.
"Elsker dig, Norge." Denmark whispered, finally saying the words he wished he could've said on his deathbed.
"Elsker deg også , din idiot" Norway whispered, walking out of the room to meet with everyone else.
And, for the first time in what feels like years, relief washes over the Dane.
Elsker dig, Norge – Love you, Norge (Danish)
Elsker deg også , din idiot – Love you too, you idiot (Norwegian)