Shut eyelids that hid dark blue eyes suddenly fluttered open, immediately squinting at the sudden brightness of the room. The sunlight filtered in without restraint from outside through a window across the room with the curtains pulled to the side. It was not a large room, nor was it fancy, but it certainly was enough for the owner, who rubbed his dark blue eyes and pulled himself onto his elbows. Norway's blonde hair fell into place immediately, yet he still ran a hand through it and combed out any sign of knots or tangles. Once he had accomplished this task he reached over and grabbed his signature hair clip, the gold cross, and slipped it into the section of hair that fell on the left side of his face. As he swung his legs out from under the covers, he groaned as he found the crick in his back from sleep. He stretched this crick out and hoped it would be better later.
As he walked down the hallway he briefly peered into his housemate's rooms, noticing that the other two were still asleep, and conducting his morning routine in the restroom. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at his reflection and straightened his nightshirt. It was not so much a thought of self-awareness as it was a habit; after all, his nightshirt was a simple white t-shirt with baggy, grey sweatpants. As he rinsed his mouth, a bit of water splashed up and landed on his thigh, but he merely shrugged and moved on to the kitchen, where he began making coffee and put a piece of bread in the toaster. Soon, the toast was thoroughly buttered and a mug of coffee was steaming directly next to it.
Norway was enjoying the peace and solitude of the morning while it lasted, slowly sipping at his coffee as it hit the temperature when it became most delicious and savory. He finished his toast quickly and put another piece into the toaster. Norway continued sipping at his coffee as he walked to the front door, retrieving that day's newspaper and bringing it back to the kitchen just in time for the bread to have been completely toasted.
It was at this time that his little brother, Iceland, came out. Iceland, clad in his long-sleeved nightshirt and tattered yoga pants, shuffled into the kitchen and plopped himself in his usual chair. Norway set a plate in front of him and soon there was a small pile of toast occupying the space atop the plate and a mug of coffee next to it. A mumbled "morning," came from Iceland and Norway nodded his head in response.
Naturally, with the smell of coffee and noise of toast being made, Denmark came stumbling in ten minutes after Iceland. Dressed in a halfway buttoned up shirt, and only underwear for pants, Denmark slouched into his seat. Norway rolled his eyes, grabbing some Advil and putting them next to Denmark's mug. Norway grabbed a chunk of Denmark's hair and forced Denmark's eyes to meet his, saying slowly and clearly, "You really have to stop coming home drunk at two in the morning." Norway then released Denmark's hair and ruffled it back into place. Denmark nodded, having had the lecture many times before, and eagerly took the Advil that had been left for him.
Norway, seeing that everyone had been given breakfast, left to change for the day. Given that it was a day off for all three of them, Norway pulled on a light sweater and jeans, given that it was cooler outside he put a long-sleeved button up shirt on underneath the sweater. Norway had no other plans for the day than relaxing and enjoying time with Denmark and Iceland, and for once he knew that that was all they had planned this as well. He grabbed at least five blankets and dragged them out to the living room to their couch. Norway rolled into one of the blankets, enjoying the warmth that came from the soft fabric. The fibers tickled his nose as he buried his face into the blanket, but he smiled to himself at this luxury. Denmark came out to join Norway shortly afterwards, dressed in a simple shirt and yoga pants. He rubbed his eyes as he sat down next to Norway.
"What's got you so peppy this morning?" He asked Norway, noting the multiple blankets. Norway shrugged and threw one on top of Denmark, who promptly curled up in it and sat directly next to Norway. Denmark leaned over and pressed a small, tiny kiss to Norway's cheek. "I didn't get to say good morning earlier, so I'll say it now." He hesitated as he pulled away, placing another quick peck on Norway's cheek before returning to his upright position. As Denmark looked in his peripherals he noticed a very small change of color in Norway's face, the hint of red that appeared on the top of Norway's cheeks. Other than that, there was no sign of any emotion. Therefore, it was quite the surprise when Norway leaned over and returned the kiss to Denmark's cheek, whispering "morning," into Denmark's ear.
Needless to say, Denmark's face went beet red. That didn't stop him from reaching over, cupping Norway's neck and pulling the Norwegian's face slowly towards his until their lips met. Norway's hand reached under Denmark's chin and held him closer until they had broken off, their foreheads resting against the others'. Denmark grinned and kissed Norway one more time before leaning over and sifting through the CDs Norway had collected. They had planned to watch a few movies together before going to the park to fish. Iceland came out shortly after, silently wrapping himself in one of the blankets.
"Please don't make me watch Disney," was all he said as he sat down. Norway naturally responded by pulling out "Brother Bear" from the stack, which Denmark nodded to in approval.
And thus, they watched Disney.
Iceland glared at Norway throughout the Disney chime and corporation animation at the beginning, but secretly he loved that movie. Norway curled up next to Iceland, and Denmark rested his entire weight on the opposite side of Iceland, sardining Iceland in between them. All three of them hummed along to the songs.
Once that movie had finished, Iceland slipped "Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron" out of its casing and held it in front of him, and Norway was about to protest it when Denmark put the CD in. Norway bit his lip, knowing that he always cried in that movie. When it came time, he hid his face behind the blankets so the other two wouldn't see his tears, even though only two slipped through his eyelashes.
Once the movie had finished they proceeded to play Twister. It ended when Denmark, who both Norway and Iceland had been bent over, caved in and all three of them toppled down, and for once they all shared a laugh or two. They went for a walk afterward, getting a cup of ice cream and going to the park to fish. They walked to a forest and hiked for a little while, and then walked back home. When they reached the house, Denmark said that he would go and get dinner. Norway and Iceland shrugged, telling him to go ahead. In the meantime, Iceland convinced Norway to play video games with him.
An hour went by... Two...
Three hours... Four...
It had been six hours since Iceland and Norway had seen Denmark. Norway called Denmark as he cooked Ramen on the stove, but all he got was voicemail. The blonde Norwegian groaned as the annoying bleep came through the phone speaker and told him to leave a message, to which Norway responded by snapping his out-of-date flip-phone shut.
"Must've gone to the bar after all," he muttered under his breath as he re-entered the room where Iceland still played on the game. The Icelandic paused the game as Norway entered with two bowls of Ramen.
"Well? Where is he?" Iceland asked as he carefully sipped at some of the broth. Norway shrugged and shook his head, taking a spoonful of broth and placing it in his mouth after blowing on it for awhile.
"No idea. I got voicemail." Iceland furrowed his eyebrows at this and laughed nervously.
"He must have his phone off, if he didn't answer a call from you." Norway snapped his head to Iceland and, with a rather dangerous tone of voice asked "what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Iceland smirked and shoved Norway's shoulder.
"Oh come on, I've known he likes you since the Viking Era." Norway blushed slightly, but only a barely detectable shade redder than his normal skin color.
"He must be at the bar," Norway stated again, shrugging as if he didn't care. In reality he was quite worried. It wasn't uncommon for Denmark to be distracted and forget about a chore of sorts and go to the bar instead, but he always called to tell them that he was going to be late. Eventually Iceland retired to his bedroom, and Norway said goodnight to him before turning on the news. Nothing peculiar was on the news, no shootings or car accidents. His nerves soothed, Norway shut the television off and was about to go to his room when he saw one of the pictures that the Nordics had taken together. He picked up the frame and looked at it with an almost fond expression before placing it back on the side table. As Norway walked down the hallway he looked at the other photos that hung on the wall. Noticing a crooked frame, Norway sighed and began fixing its angle when he looked at the drawn portrait that seemed so old now.
When Norway was able to get over his nostalgia in the hallway, he walked in the darkness of night to his bed and slipped under the covers after changing, showering and brushing his teeth. However, when he awoke in the morning Denmark had yet to return. Norway began to have a rather hard time breathing and his heartbeat began racing. Once again Norway checked the news but nothing important seemed to be on. There were still no automobile accidents, no deaths, no fights. Naturally Norway was awake before Iceland, but this morning Norway replaced his usual mug of coffee with a warm cup of chamomile tea. The chamomile's aroma helped calm the Norwegian slightly, but certainly not enough. Around ten in the morning, Norway called Denmark again, and the ringing continued until the blare of voicemail was heard once more.
"Heeeyyyy, can't get to the phone at the moment! If you want me to call you back, leave a message!" Norway heard Denmark's voice over the voicemail and had to sit down, or he would have lurched and fell over. Norway took a deep breath before speaking.
"Hey bror. Just checking to see where you are. I'll come and pick you up if you're not too drunk... like the last time I found you. Either way, call me when you get this." Norway then hit the "END" button on his phone and snapped it shut. He swore to himself and ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. He didn't eat anything that morning, but drank more tea than he normally did coffee.
When Iceland came out from his room, it was at least noon, and was clear from Norway's observations that he hadn't had a restful night. The first clue to this fact was the book that Iceland shamefully tried to hide behind his leg. Iceland nodded greetings to Norway, and Norway returned the gesture with a slight dip of the head. Iceland held out the book to Norway. It was the Poetic Edda, one of Iceland's absolute favorite books, whether he admitted it or not. Norway examined the title and looked from Iceland's face to the book. With a bashful countenance, Iceland held out the book to the page of which told of Signy. Norway took the book, unsure exactly of what Iceland was implying from these actions until the Icelandic sat down in front of Norway, wrapping one of the blankets left from yesterday around himself.
After taking a deep breath, Norway began to read the passage. He kept his voice calm and steady, but at a slower pace so that if one were drowsy in his presence, one would have been fast asleep in seconds.
When Norway finished the story, Iceland was leaning against Norway's legs and quite close to falling asleep himself.
"Thanks, Nor. I couldn't sleep well last night so I thought If you read me a..." And with that, Iceland fell asleep.
An hour or so later, after reading more of the stories from Iceland's book, Norway fell asleep as well. It was a cloudy day, but the sun would appear every now and then. After thirty minutes of rest, Norway awoke at nothing more than Iceland changing the position of his head against Norway's leg. Norway sighed and pulled over the sealed notebook he kept as a journal.
He only ever recorded war dates, or when people he was friends with died off, or birthdays and occasionally daily events, especially those that Norway did not want to forget. He brought a pen to the old parchment paper, and began to scrawl the date on the top right corner. Under it, he wrote Denmark gone, most likely drunk somewhere. I am, as of now, bored and have nothing else to do, seeing that Iceland is asleep and he chose to fall asleep on my legs, I cannot move without waking him. However, what I can not fathom at the moment, is where Denmark has gone. Perhaps one of his bar friends took him to their house. I am deciding to wait a little longer before alerting the police.
Norway signed the page off in his choppily-smooth, small and cramped handwriting. He pulled his phone out and flipped it open, checking to see if Denmark had replied. When the screen blinked awake, the only message awaiting him was the time and date. Frustrated, he snapped the phone shut.
Later, when Iceland had woken up, Norway made a small portion of fish that he had found in the refrigerator. They ate silently, a heavy weight in their stomachs making their appetite smaller and smaller. Both could barely finish the meal, and afterward they went for a small walk around the house.
That night, when Norway went to his bedroom to sleep, Iceland had been in bed for hours already, but at two in the morning Norway was gently shaken awake by Iceland crawling into bed with him. Norway put his arms around Iceland, soothing his little brother, who was shaking out of fear, and telling him that it'd be alright.
"A silly man lies awake all night, thinking of many things. In the morning he is worn with care, and his trouble is just as it was." Iceland nodded, remembering the line from his storybook and promptly fell asleep. An hour later, Norway fell asleep as well.
The next morning, there was still no Denmark. There was nothing valuable on the news. Norway picked up his phone, sending a silent prayer to whatever God would listen that there would be a message. His heart racing, Norway punched the numbers of Denmark's phone number into his phone, biting his lip as the ringing began.
In an alley, on the top of the garbage disposal, a phone rang. The phone blared its ringtone with surprising efficiency, but its owner had been long gone. It rang its heart out, the battery dying before it reached the last ring. As the phone shut off, the alley was deathly silent, as if witness to a greatly horrific event. The glow from the screen of the phone was eliminated, and the lock screen that showed two men and one boy, all pale-skinned, but the men blonde and blue eyed and the boy with purple eyes and grey hair, was illuminated no more that day from silly calls, though it received many.