To like, dislike, hate or love.

Denmark doesn't know.

Sweden doesn't either.

Since both of them don't know, they don't think about it.


And that, is the cause of their pain.

Very few people have been able to comprehend their relationship. Lesser know how to express it. Perpetually no one receives an answer when they go around and ask. Why, nobody has seen them after all.

They never let anyone see them.

They might be your average passer-by breezing through the crowd. Perhaps they are right beside you, enjoying a cup of coffee. Or are they the janitors in your school? Ah, it is those little things in life we overlook that make us miss so much.

You may see them, but you don't know who you're seeing. You may know them, but you don't know them for who they are.

It's alright though.

They don't know how to see themselves either.


They say that it's the people who make the country.

That might be true, but the way they think do not affect the way the countries think.

That's why, even though the people live carefree, Denmark and Sweden are still bound to the conflicts of their love and hate.

They do not like one another. To say dislike would be an understatement. They hate each other to the core. Although their days of warring were gone, their leaders replaced, their hate still remains, for they were not the ones who were gone; they were there as the spoils of war, the initiators of war, the battlefield, the bloodstained land, the earth where the dead once walked.

Once in a while, when they passed each other in the halls, Denmark would lung out at Sweden and hold him by the throat to the wall. Once in a while, when the countries had left after a world meeting, Sweden would lung out at Denmark and hold him by the shirt collar to the floor. Sometimes, they only held steel gazes before they broke off. Sometimes, it turned into a full on-out battle of dominance, and be it victor or loser, both would be scarred, injured, bleeding...

Thinking.


And then there is love.

It's in those nights that they find themselves in one room, not at each other's throats, clawing their eyes out, but instead in peace, relishing the presence of the other. Because then, they are not at war, neither are they the spoils of war, the initiators of war, and in that moment they are no longer battlefields, bloodstained lands, but the earth where the living now love.

Once in a while, when all was quiet, Denmark would stir up a small and light conversation. Once in a while, when all was sad, Sweden would offer a beer to Denmark. Sometimes, they only sat in silence. Sometimes, when their hate still bubbled, it was a battle of dominance, only with their hands, their tongues, their passion.


They know they cannot forgive each other for the sake of the other. Even though their people have forgiven, they have not.

But even though their people remember, they have forgotten.

They forget; that's why they love. What is gone is gone. Remembering won't bring back the dead, their sons, their children. All it does is hurt like a little devil. But they cannot forgive. They cannot forgive the death at their hands. They cannot forgive the death at the other's hands. They cannot forgive the many stopped watches, the bloodstained glasses, the stray gunshots because of a misunderstanding.

And that's why they hate.

It's not only the matter of like and dislike. For if you dislike someone, there is still maybe a hidden love.

But when it's hate...

All traces of love are gone.

It's in the complexity of love and hate, the beauty of love and hate, that makes their relationship rare, beautiful, misunderstood, artful.


Even though they love and hate, it's not guilty love, it's not playful hate. It's not a faerie tale like many believe it to be. It's real hate, real love. Nothing's ever fake about them. That is a country. Through the years of war and alliance, they know that no matter how you pretend, you will be found out. All it takes is time. And they do have plenty of time.

But still they do not use their time wisely.

They still have a lot to learn.

Because even though they have forgotten, they have not forgiven.

But who is it that they must forgive? Really, who deserves the forgiveness?

Sweden thinks it's not Denmark. Sometimes he does.

Denmark thinks it's not Sweden. Sometimes he does.

But sometimes, they don't know at all.

Sometimes they think it's themselves.


Who is it that they hate? Who is it that they love? Who is it that they blame? Is it the other? Is it themselves? Or do they even blame at all? It's these questions that boggle their minds. Their sleepless nights revolve around their love and blame, their restless days around their hate and self-loathing. They've been told to stop, and they did, but sometimes it comes back to them. There are so many things they are not sure of. They think, and it comes back. They don't like thinking about those. Hell, they are not even sure of their own relationship status. They take it out when they see each other in the hallways, after the world meeting, at night in their rooms. Sometimes they fight. Sometimes they shout and scream down each other's throats. Sometimes they do it angrily in one of their rooms. Sometimes they hang off each other crying and drunk.

Sweden thinks it's because they blame themselves that they blame the other.

Denmark knows it's because they don't like bearing responsibility.

Both of them know they don't like causing pain.

Both of them don't know they are injuring their hearts.


In their conflicting repetition, no one had the heart to humiliate each other. In their moments after the war, both of them had locked gazes. The iron resolve in their eyes had spoken enough. Neither wished for harm to their people. Neither wished for more harm to their people.

Neither wished for war to exist.

How they wished they could pummel the offender in front of them. But it wouldn't be possible to do so without another war happening.


-It's in the hate that was borne the love, and it's in the love that was borne the hate. In the unforgiving cycle of love and hate, they fight, they make up, they hurt, they heal. But the scars of the heart will not heal, and the touches of the soul will not disappear. They do not forgive the pain of war, the deeds that had been done, the years of torture, the bloodshed. But they remember the gentle touches, the butterfly kisses, the hushed whispers, the close proximity. Neither holds back in their hate-filled fights. Neither holds back in their passion-filled nights.


They still have a lot to learn.

They have to learn to stand up again.

And after that, they will to learn to walk again.

Then maybe they will remember how to run again.

And perhaps, they might know how to skip again.

All that is left is for them to learn how to forgive.

Not for the other's sake, but for their own sake.

They have to know how to stop hurting themselves.

They have to move on.

They have to continue living.

They have to forgive each other...

And forgive themselves.


All is fair in love and war.

In a world so unforgiving, it is time we learn to forgive.

A/N: Alright, I know I have the Hello series to finish, but I can't resist this little pairing analysis. In fact, if I get requests asking for more analysises (omg English) I can also turn this into a series.

I adore DenSu because of its complicity. You know, the thing with their canonical hatred and fanonical love for each other ouo I thought it would be good if there was a random fic that pops out of nowhere that complicates their relationship instead of boiling it down to a single or a few elements.

Just so you know I'm not really big on ships so you can ask for an analysis on any pairing at all so long as you don't use it to bash other pairings (which would be close to impossible with my style of writing).

I really need work on focus writing argh I bet a lot of you end up confused after reading this (which is a little snippet of my aim, to emphasise on how complicated DenSu is)

Enough of my useless rambling asdgg, I hope you enjoyed my little baby fic, please do read and review!

Edit/: Page breaks are painful

-The Eyebrowed one-