(A/N) I'd love you forever if you listened to the Mumford and Songs song of the same name. Ok, read on!

Little Lion Man

Denmark sat alone on the bench, hunched. The world was incased in gray, and it seemed to have seeped into Denmark himself. He had his head in his hands. He couldn't make the flashes stop. The same scenes, over and over, in his head. It pounded in his mind.

Norge, pretty Norge, tough Norge, not saying a word. Even more quite than normal. Norway refused to look at him. Denmark wanted to plead, but he held his tongue. He wanted Norway to throw everything he had at him. He wanted Norway to scream, to yell, to choke him. Norway simply, after a moment, got up and walked away.

Denmark wished his head would stop replaying this. Wished his head would stop showing bits and pieces of his pain. Wished he could run away.

Norway walked away, but Denmark grabbed his arm. Pulled him, turned him around. Begged him to say something. Norway looked at him with such contempt.

"You think you're so brave, don't you, Denmark? You're oh-so-powerful. So smart. You think you are so full of courage. But you act like a coward. Take a good long look in the mirror, because I'm telling you this. Run and hide, Denmark. Pity yourself. Cry yourself to sleep at night, because you'll always be alone." With that, Norway stomped away.

Denmark sank into the grass.

Demark sank into the park bench. He bit into his own lip. He was too old for tears.

Denmark decided to give it few days. He hadn't heard a word from Norge. He hadn't heard a word form anyone. He touched the phone, hoping for a call, so worried of what was waiting for him on the other line. As he hit the buttons, his relationship flashed through his eyes.

The party lights dim as he kisses Norge for the first time.

Denmark holds out a flower for Norge and Norge smacks his arm, but takes it.

Denmark straightens Norway's tie on the day of their union.

Denmark watches Norway make breakfast for the two of them while he reads the paper.

Denmark wants to cry as Norway packs boxes, leaving to belong to Sweden.

Denmark watches Norway unpack, living alone for the first time.

Denmark holds Norway while he cries.

Denmark watches as Norway skips down the peir.

Norway's laugh.

His smile.

These could all be gone, forever. He could never have these moments back. It's up to the voice on the line. Denmark calls, Norway doesn't answer.

Denmark swallows hard, and brushes his hair off his forehead. As melancholy as it is, he hopes it will rain on him.

Denmark tried to get in touch with him a hundred times, before quitting that method. He went to Iceland first. Iceland greeted him with a look that told Denmark he knew exactly what had happened. It also told Denmark who's side Ice was on. And it really wasn't his.

Iceland lets him in.

Iceland goes back to making coffee. Denmark sits at the table. Iceland hands him a cup. Denmark doesn't even get the words out to ask Ice how to fix things before Iceland gives him a stern look.

"I'm afraid of losing him." Denmark pleaded.

Iceland rolled his eyes. "Then fear for your life. He's not coming back. You'll never be able to summon whatever courage you had to face what he is right not, and frankly, you shouldn't."

Denmark lifted his cup. "What is he right now?"

Iceland rolls his eyes at him. "Brokenhearted?"

Denmark puts his head on the counter.

Iceland told him to leave after that, told him that this was a score he'd never settle. Denmark on the bench crossed his legs and wished he'd brought his coat. But mostly he wished he could stop seeing this, that he could think of something else.

Finland and Sweden let him in, let Denmark tell them his problems, let the Dane sulk on their couch. Finland pats his arm. Sweden observes with a cool distaste. Denmark whines on their couch. All the couple asks him is, "Hasn't this happened to you before?"

Denmark on the bench dug his fingernails into the wood.

He spent days sulking. He blamed Norway. It was his fault for not forgiving him. It was his fault for not loving him enough. It was his fault for having so much power over him. It was his fault for not wanting him. Denmark whined, laid in his bed, refused to accept things were over, blamed Norway.

Denmark hated this bit the worst. Almost as bad as he hated himself for this at all. He dug his teeth into his lip.

Denmark stormed up to Norway's door. Wanted to scream at him, for punishing him like this. Wanted to force him to love him. Denmark had convinced himself that Norway didn't care for him, and that's why he did this. That's why it was Norge's fault. As his fist made contact with the door, he saw them again.

Little Norge asks to hold little Denmark's hand in the dark.

Norway refuses to leave Denmark when he's sick.

Norge defends him at a meeting and everybody stares.

Norge asks Denmark to sleep with him because he's afraid to be all alone.

Norge outlines the history of his fairies, and thanks Denmark for listening.

It wasn't often that Norway was sweet. But suddenly, suddenly, Denmark could see it. Denmark could see. He knew. Norway had loved him. He could see it outlined in every action now.

Norway opened the door tear-stained. He straightened up as best he could, but he was obviously devastated. Denmark felt like lying at his feet. Snow fell on their shoulders. Norge was still in his pajamas. He glared at Denmark.

"I…This was my fault."

Norway scoffed. Of course It was.

"And it was your heart on the line." Denmark tried to reach out to him. Norway shoved him.

"I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, Min kjære?"

Norway closed the door.

That brought Denmark to here. Park bench. World about to rain. Staring off into the fog. Watching Norway dangle his feet from the pier in the distance. He wished he had brought his coat. He buried his head in his hands. The scenes started again.

"Norge, Norge, I'm so sorry, but I have something to… tell you…" Norge blinks. Denmark swallowed. Tried to summon all of his courage. "I… slept with someone…else."

Norge, pretty Norge, tough Norge, not saying a word. Even more quite than normal. Norway refused to look at him. Denmark wanted to plead, but he held his tongue…