Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warning for mild incest, nothing graphic.
The cameras flash, and gunshot clicks begin. He is going insane.
The lights seem to him like explosions, and he's dizzy, so disorientated but he doesn't want to be there, he wishes for peace and quiet and hell, he knows this isn't even real, but he hates it.
He sees the unsmiling face of the only person he loves and hates how he feels.
Then the floor dissolves beneath him, and no hand reaches down to him...
His silent screams echo on into the darkened room, early but he quivers, watching the corners in terror until he decides.
Throwing some stuff into a bag, he starts to run, relishing the feel of the cold night air on his sweat-drenched face and the quiet rustle of trees.
The city speeds by, soon long gone and he continues running up to the point where he passes out.
Three months later, and he is still living out of his suitcase, as if he is on a long-term holiday.
It feels happy but wrong somehow.
Jóhann has a house, a job, a hidden phone which has 206 unread messages which he will read soon because he can't seperate himself completely, and it still feels incomplete somehow.
He very much enjoys his new existence: he works as a waiter in a small bar and resturant where the locals all know him now. It's peaceful - he spends his time off taking care of the house and himself, and some fishing in a nearby lake, and drawing occasionally.
Yet there is still an inkling of fault in this almost idyllic life. He can never stop himself sending the occasional text to his boss, just because Jóhann does actually value his opinion and is glad for his work. He secretly hacks into the live feed of the meetings sometimes, if it's convenient for his job and he feels left out.
He often wonders about his house, back in Reykjavik. He saunters past the bank and a card in his pocket sings with the knowledge of back up cash that he never wants to use.
But on the whole, he accepts it, the slight crack in his human life, and thoroughly enjoys immersing himself in the activities of his citizens in a small village.
A small salvation comes when he opens the door to find Norway standing there, bag slung over one shoulder, and he chokes.
"Don't I get an invite to the holiday?"
Jóhann isn't quite sure how to react, so he busies himself by taking Norway's- Lukas' bag and ushering him in, after a sheepish smile.
It becomes the start of a perfect existence for Jóhann, an unseen missing piece slotting itself in where he couldn't even see the gap, just knowing it was there.
Firstly, Lukas makes lots of comments on the house. Jóhann had always noticed this, that Lukas talked more around him, but never stopped to ponder why, mostly because he didn't think he'd come up with an answer he likes.
"Well built. Where did this wood come from?"
"It's quite small, for two..."
"Are those your paintings?"
He answers the best he can: he doesn't know; yes it is, but it was a little big for one; and yes, Jóhann comments shyly. But Lukas doesn't immediately say anything about them, just looks at them periodically with a wistful smile, when he knows Jóhann isn't looking.
They settle into some kind of comfortable, quiet routine. Lukas looks mildly surprised when he leaves for his job the first day, and yet, on the second day, lunch is ready when he opens the door. He resists the urge to hug Lukas.
In idle moments on the job, he wonders what his brother does at home, all day. Perhaps, he thinks, he goes out fishing. Or reads, a favourite pasttime of Lukas' that as a nation he could never indulge in much.
Meanwhile, Lukas finds the painting in Jóhann's room of a lake scene with a single figure, and has trouble persuading himself that the figure is someone other than him.
The sixth day, over dinner, Lukas requests to see him at work. Jóhann, unable to think of a reason to decline, hesitantly accepts, and is rewarded as Lukas finally smiles: not grins, or smirks, but truly smiles at him. Blushing, he focuses on eating his food after that, yet he can't quite help smiling for the rest of the evening, during which Lukas is almost Isocial/I compared to when he's with-. (no, they already agreed to no nation talk. Iceland is unconscious, and in his place stands the human Jóhann Stéfansson) Lukas holds a drink like he's always been in bars, chats to the other regulars at the bar and looks mildly interested in the football game broadcasting from the corner.
Jóhann is more relaxed too, because instead of wondering and worrying, he knows what Lukas is doing, and it is very comforting to see him apparently as happy and relaxed as Lukas ever gets.
The only thing Jóhann worries about is Lukas' glance when he introduced them not as brothers, but as friends - mostly because he can't quite decode the meaning.
He stores it, like many others, for thought on a cold winter night. And part of him speculates that when he opens his mind, it will be a busy cold winter night.
It's getting colder, and both the weather and other nations are drawing in, slowly. Once he admits the true reason of his disappearance to his boss, they keep in touch more easily. He says that Denmark and Finland (on behalf of both him and Sweden) have asked about if he knows where Norway is. Then the line goes blank, soon replaced with Finland and he seems exasperated, (he must have been, Jóhann thinks, to hack his phone call to his boss) beginning to question him about neligence, etc - so he ends the call. Finland tries three more times, before Jóhann gives in and replies with a text message, very briefly outlining his situation (minus one Norway). The other nation appears to understand, because he wishes him well and leaves him alone after that.
He only tells Finland because Jóhann is very aware that should he feel the need, Finland could track his message quite easily, and he isn't sure if he could resist capture from Finland.
He frets over it until Lukas finds him, takes the phone and replaces it in its 'secret' place. His brother then pats him on the shoulder, hand lingering slightly and touch lasting for hours after, and asks him to help with the washing up.
As they clean and tidy the kitchen, they watch a cloud rolling lazily in to bring the first snow.
The first time Lukas finds him curled up downstairs with a coffee at night is about five months after 'Iceland' fell unconscious and left nationhood for a bit, and two months after Norway joined him.
Even on holiday, he can't escape the dreams of fire, burning and war and then aftermaths - so many, what if he walks through his beloved streets tomorrow and they simply aren't there.
Jóhann's pride has never quite led him to Lukas, although he gets very close on many occasions, so near to knocking on the door then walking away.
He'd been a breath away, the door singing in knowledge and warmth yet he still can't do it. Lukas evidently followed him downstairs.
He finds Jóhann on the sofa, staring at a blank television screen, moonlight pouring through the windows to make him look more haunted, white hair and face in shadows, and Lukas can't stop himself admiring Jóhann for just a second, before he steps forward. Facing each other, Lukas notes the tear tracks down the other's face, and reaches for a blanket, enveloping them both in a bungle of warmth.
Jóhann sleeps soundly after that, coffee lying forgotten on the table.
Jóhann watches Lukas with a small ache in his heart. Even though they are so proximate, there is still some gaping chasm between them, yet to be bridged. He doesn't even know what it is, but holds himself back from trying to discover.
He often tells himself that he is happy with brotherly love.
But in the strangely intimate gestures between them, like holding each other closely when watching a film, he wonders about that. He wonders how straight that line is, and whether they teeter upon it or are sledging towards certain doom on either side. If he leapt, would Lukas follow? Or would he be left in the snow?
Through when Lukas hugs him and gently soothes him after another world ending dream, he thinks Lukas would follow him anywhere, as would he with Lukas.
In the midst of winter, it happens.
It had been quite strange. The bar had closed very early due to no one being in there, although Jóhann suspected that since it was snowing very hard, they didn't enjoy the prospect of being stuck in a bar. When he got home, however, Lukas had been nowhere to be found.
This wasn't too worrying, despite it being eight o'clock and very dark outside - Lukas was not contained at home, and was free to do, come and go as he wished. Once Jóhann shovelled the inches of snow on the path in order to have a smaller job the day after, he settles down with an Icelandic drama in the background, with dinner and his phone, texting his boss as was usual.
Then Lukas comes in.
He wobbles, before setting his sights on Jóhann and attempting to stamp over to him, with limited success. Jóhann jumps up to catch him, dragging him towards the sofa, surprised to find his brother in such a state - for one normally so controlled in his actions, it was unnerving to see him incapacitated.
Laying him gently on the sofa, Jóhann fetches a glass of water and a blanket, and once those items are in place, one on the table and the other over Lukas, he picks up his phone and makes to sit on the other chair, to keep an eye on Lukas to ensure he doesn't hurt himself - but he is stopped by a questioning 'Why?'.
Turning, he meets with a piercing blue gaze, and subconsciously gasps.
"Why what?"
Quicker than Jóhann could react, Lukas grabs him and pulls, forcing Jóhann almost to fall on top of him, although he manages to find some balance and instead kneels next to him.
"Why can't you relax. I'll help-" Lukas whispers, and leans in to kiss Jóhann.
He only gets as far as meeting their lips before alarm bells begin to ring in Jóhann's mind, and he pulls back. Rising quickly, he stalks upstairs and locks his door, watching the world start to turn watery.
He hates the conflict in him - part of him wants to go downstairs and forget the world with Lukas, act on the heat burning the edges of his control - but most of him is still disgusted with himself, for wanting it, for everything.
As he falls into black, he dreams of dying at the hands of fire.
Lukas was hungover and Jóhann threw himself at work, trying to erase the memory so the relationship might return to base levels. He knew he was avoiding his brother, but in his experience, drunk nations simply remembered quite a lot of their drunken actions. During the week he didn't really see Lukas, he often wondered about going back. The Rekjavík house would need a proper clean, and lots of questions would need to be answered, if anyone actually noticed he was gone yet.
Probably not, he believed - after all, the only person to properly question after him were a few members of his government, but mainly his boss.
He'd taken up extra work, too - babysitting the local children, doing some odd jobs around the village, generally staying out of the house.
Unbeknowst to him, Lukas watches him sleep occasionally, stroking his hand when he tosses and turns, and those are the days he wakes up feeling coldest.
Eight days after the incident, Lukas tells him he likes the paintings.
Somehow, Jóhann feels happier after hearing that than any other compliment he'd been given.
Fourteen days beyond that, about four months since he moved in, Lukas comes to a sort of breaking point. They hadn't spoken about it, Jóhann knowing that Lukas remembers, but certain questions teeter on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall. Is it wrong? Why didn't you respond? Do you dislike me, Jóhann..?
And one day, he asks them, verbally pushes Jóhann against a wall. It is the fourth time that week when they had regrouped downstairs at midnight, unable to sleep: one due to dreams and one due to worry. They touch, shoulders and legs burning with friction and feet tangle up together, but Lukas goes a step further; entwines their hands under the blanket. Then the enquiries fall into audible being, Jóhann stiffens and Lukas feels guilty for the first time.
Yes. Yes, it is wrong. But I can't... I couldn't hate you, Lukas. Jóhann whispers hesitantly, and it sounds so much like other things were said. He can almost hear them, unsaid implications bouncing off walls and only stopping inches from his ears, but he repeats the middle question and doesn't get an answer, since they lean together and join, melding lips and hands and feet but they don't act on white-hot desires. Simply holding each other, laying on the sofa together feeling overtaken by relief and guilt and burning passion.
Neither of them sleep that night, staring at ceiling and wondering why this symbolises something so wrong.
Jóhann decides that he very much enjoys the fascinating timbre of the new relationship - a different set of notes like changing to a different scale, or chord. The steady punctuation of smiles, kisses and joined hands, but the best bit is that it feels so human, to be obsessed in love with one other person, not the messed up polygons of nations. He's never loved anyone else, but he knows that Lukas was close to Denmark and Sweden for a bit. However, if he gets even a shadow of doubt, the soft gleam in murky blue eyes is enough to chase it away.
Each time their desires meet in a tangible evidence of their love, they both float. The regulars at the bar laugh about him getting a girlfriend, but Jóhann suspects some of them know and get it, yet he doesn't mind that some of the younger ones are surprised it didn't happen earlier, or that some money was passed with cheeky grins, because he feels so alive.
Jóhann feels like, even though it is winter, their hearts will melt the snow on the roof. He never regrets his decision to do the unthinkable, and take a holiday.
His boss tells him that Lukas' boss is getting extremely restless with the absence of his nation, and that their missing status is becoming obvious to nations like America and China. Jóhann almost laughs out loud at that, nearly a year of being gone and they are only just noticing it.
But he supposes that all good things must come to an end.
Reflecting on it, he sees that it was a fantastic idea, even if it had its flaws - he no longer dreams of painful burning, but a gentle warmth that flickers as he watches it with Lukas. He worries less now, and feels better. He didn't expect to enjoy it when he first ran away, or even get much from it, but he has: even the menial things like cooking, cleaning, paying bills are so relaxing when compared to deciding fishing quotas and coping in meetings. Of course, he knows he isn't human, but he's felt so close to being a proper citizen. Work, true love, running a house - all such human things, and now, he realised, within touching distance.
They are both sad when it comes to an abrupt end, as Denmark glares furiously at them (looking as if he wished he had his axe), Finland tutts while seeming happy for them, and Sweden looks amused. Sealand starts crying that he was worried about them, and Lukas is aware that they're making a bit of a scene so he invited them in.
Jóhann feels like they all turn a little human, as if it wasn't the Nordics and Sealand sitting around a small table, but Berwald, Tino, Mathias, Lukas, Peter and Jóhann, a big strange family having tea and some cake in a bit of a reunion.
As expected, questions are asked ("Norge, how could you leave me with this pair! I feel like such a third wheel!" from Mathias, and "Did you paint those?" from Finland. Lukas and Jóhann share a glance), but Sweden asks the one they all really want to know.
"Why d'ya go?" He turns to Lukas, so they all do, assuming he was the one who intiated. However, he looks to Jóhann with a look of, 'I only followed'.
Jóhann smiles, feeling Iceland wake up after a year's sleep.
"I dreamt of fire."
And it doesn't matter that they don't understand, because he doesn't really either, and they laugh.
They'll still have each other, whether they are Iceland or Jóhann and Norway or Lukas.
I hope you liked it! This was a fill for a kink meme prompt, which asked for nations 'running away to live as humans'.
Eldur is Icelandic for fire. I sure have original titles, right?