It was a cold and dark day for Denmark. It was the day that had left his family and he had missed them very much, he just didn't think they had missed him. He was always the one that would mess up everything, annoy them until they went to another room, and would give them headache. He sat on the edge of the street in the cold rain as he cried lightly. He wanted to go back so badly, but he knew he couldn't. He slowly got up and continued walking down the streets of Copenhagen. He was going back to his old house where he had grown up before Sweden came along.
He slowly made his way up the long pathway towards the house, his backpack hung over his shoulder. He walked up to the house and slowly opened the front door and looked out before lighting a candle. The house wasn't used in years so there was sheets over the furniture. He pulled off the sheet from the couch and laid down. He sighed loudly and rolled over so he faced the back side of the couch. He slowly fell asleep crying, he has never been on his own for many, many years.
He had slept for a while before quickly waking up to noises. He went to ask Norway what it was before quickly realizing he had left them over a day ago. He got up and went to the bedrooms and slowly opened the door to Sweden's old bedroom. He sat on the bed and soon started crying. "What am I going to do... Without them... My family... My friends... The people I love..." He would say to himself over and over again as he sobbed, laying down on the bed. He was heart broken without his family by his side. He needed them back, but he didn't know if they wanted him back, or even if they loved him.