MooMooYuuki is back~! With a rather depressing story... ;w; I love torturing characters.
/brick'd/ Anywho~! Please enjoy this short DenIce oneshot~ R&R perhaps~? And please tell me if I made a mistake somewhere. I love getting critisim. :D Danke~!
Alone. The Dane sat alone. He held a beer bottle in his hand, half empty. He was trying to get drunk, of course. He usually was drunk now a days. He could drown out his feelings when he was drunk. He could laugh, without crying. He could cry, without feeling guilty. When he was drunk, his feelings left his body all together. However, in the moments he would wake up sober, he could feel his feelings rushing back, hitting him ten-fold. And he would begin to cry. He would pull up his sleeve, and count the multiple scars on his arm. Thirteen. And he could add more if he pleased. And when he began to think these thoughts, he would stumble out of bed, and hurry into the kitchen, opening the fridge, and chugging down another beer. He would always tell himself that it was everyone's fault. He blamed the others, for never respecting him. It was their fault he was like this. They were the ones who had always made fun of him, calling him names. Even his so called "brothers". It hurt the worst when they did it. Especially Iceland. It made his heart bleed every time the Icelandic nation made a rude remark, or gave him a cold look. He wished it would all end. All of it. And now we're back to the present. In which the depressed Dane is sitting on the couch, drinking away his worries. He had decided that tonight would be the night all his worries would disappear. He had already planned everything out. He sat, staring at the static on the t.v, wondering if anyone would miss him. He snorted, and took another swig of beer. If anyone missed him, it would be Finland. And even he would only care for about a day or two, before Sweden would distract him. He put the beer bottle down, and sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a bit of guilt. If he were to die tonight, he would never have the chance to tell his love how he felt. Iceland. He wanted to tell him in person, but sadly, the Icelandic nation never visited him, unless he needed money. And even then, he would never really visit. He would simply knock, ask for money, and then depart. How cruel. The Dane threw the beer bottle at the wall, yelling words of profanity. He cursed at the others. He cursed at the world. He cursed at himself. He curled up into a ball, and began to weep, letting out all of his feeling of sorrow. He knew he would break down soon. He knew one day all of his feeling would come crashing down, and he would lose it. He always knew this was going to happen. And here he sat, proving his theory. He continued to cry, the couch soon becoming moist from his tears. He hugged himself, hearing nothing but the sound of his weeping. How he wished someone was with him. Even if it was a cat, or a dog, or even a complete stranger. He needed the company of someone besides himself. Once he could cry no longer, he went back to staring at the static on the t.v, the pitter-patter of water outside, signaling the beginning of a storm. He sighed. Even the weather fit his mood. How cruel. He stood up, and stumbled into the kitchen, opening his fridge. It was only then that he truly noticed how hungry he was. How long had it been since he had eaten a decent meal? He shrugged, and grabbed another bottle of beer, opening it and taking a large sip, the liquid burning his throat.
"Here's to happiness" he said bitterly, chugging down the entire bottle in one sip. It was then that the feeling of intoxication took over him, the room spinning around him, his vision becoming blurry. He began to laugh, a mixture of bitterness, and insanity. He laughed, bending over and clutching his stomach, losing his sick there on the kitchen floor. However, that did not stop his sick laughing. He laughed, and laughed, until his throat was dry, and sore. He sat down on a chair, and held himself, letting out little chuckles.
"Matthias..?" Came a voice, causing the Dane to sit up and look over. It was Iceland. Or perhaps an illusion courtesy of his intoxication. No matter, the sight of the smaller nordic made the other sneer in disgust. He was here to make fun of him, he was sure. He watched as the other took a look around, a distraught look on his face. Huh. Now he was judging his living space as well? How cruel. Denmark snorted, causing the other to look at him, his eyes widening in shock. Iceland walked over cautiously, keeping his eyes on Denmark. How long had he been like this? And why hadn't he called anyone? Was he going through a mid-life crisis? Was his country suffering? So many questions ran through the other's mind, but one thing was over powering all thoughts.
"What the hell happened to you, Dan?" he asked, his usual expression back on his face. Oh great. Denmark hated the look. It was as if he was looking down on him. He snorted once more, and stood up, stumbling past Iceland, and opening his front door. Rain was now pouring down, and it splashed into the other's house. He didn't care at the moment. He cleared his throat, and pointed outside.
"Get the hell outta m' house, bastard." he said gruffly. Iceland stared at him, shocked. Denmark was kicking him out? That never happened. Something must have been seriously wrong. He hesitated, before speaking.
"No Matthias. I won't leave you. Please, tell me what's wrong with you.." He said, tucking his hands into his pockets. The Dane stared at the floor, then suddenly slammed the door shut, causing the other to jump.
"Why the hell is it that you suddenly give 'bout me?! You want money 'sall! Don't give me your bull! So g'head and take m' damned money! I don't want that crap!" He yelled at the other, getting down on his hands and knee's and sobbing. "So just get the hell out. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm fucking fantastic." Iceland watched the other, unsure of what exactly to do. He hesitated, before walking over and kneeling down in front of the broken down Danish man.
"Matthias... I don't want your money. I came here because you've been gone for a while. We were all worried... So I volunteered to come and see you.. Please, tell me what it is that's bothering you. This isn't you. I want to see your annoying self. I want to see that stupidly wonderful smile, and hear your cocky godforsaken laughter.." he admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. The Dane was staring at the floor, his eyes wide in shock. Had... had Iceland really said that? Now he was positive this was all an illusion. No matter. He would the best of this cruel dream. He looked up, and into the others eyes. He began to sob again, and he threw his arms around the other, sobbing into the smaller nordic's shoulder. Iceland blushed even more as he came into contact with the Dane, nevertheless, he patted the sobbing countries back. They stayed like that for a while, listening to the rain outside, and the sobs of the Dane. How had it become this bad for Denmark? He always seemed to happy, so cheerful. Iceland sighed, and mentally slapped himself. Of course he seemed happy. He hadn't wanted to let anyone know. He dreaded to think what would have happened if he arrived any later. As the larger Nations sobs became quieter and quieter, as did the rain. Soon it was back to pitter-patters, quietly hitting against the roof of the house. Denmark looked up, into Iceland's eyes, his own red from both crying, and inducing large quantities of alcohol.
"Thanks Aisu... I think I feel a little better now.." he lied, wanting the other to leave so he could carry on with his plan. "I guess all this stress just really got to me.." However, Iceland wasn't going to believe any of this non-sense. Stress wouldn't have left the Dane half-dead in his own home, with nothing but the smell of alcohol surrounding him. He frowned, patting the others back roughly.
"You think I'm going to belive that nonsense? Something is obviously bothering you, and I know it's not stress. So out with it, Dan." Denmark stared at Iceland, then nodded, standing up, and turning around, facing opposite to the other.
"I'm sick of it, Emil. I'm sick of what people say behind my back. I'm sick of what people say to my face. Both of which are not nice. I'm not just some dim-witted, childish nation. I have feelings as well.. And those feelings have been kept bottled up. I try to ignore them. I tell myself they're just joking around. But even our brothers say things like that, ignoring the fact that I'm right there.. But that's not the worst part.." He said, wiping away stray tears.
"The worst part is.. that you say those things as well. And that's what hurts the most..." Iceland stared wide-eyed. Why did his words affect the other so? He had always assumed he was a lesser, unimportant brother to Denmark. So why was he saying these things now?
"I feel like every time you insult me, i'm driven towards my breaking point even faster. Every insult you throw my way makes me want to just disappear from existence. Everyone else's insults I can handle. But not you. Because..." Was he really going to admit it? Now was probably a very good time. Had fate planned this? How cruel. He cleared his throat, and continued.
"Because you mean so much to me, Emil. You are my entire world... I.. I must confess. that I have been in love with you for so long..." Iceland widened his eyes even more, his cheeks heating up quickly. Had... had he heard clearly? He stood up, and stared at the Dane's back, unsure of what to do. He could feel his heart beating against his chest, as if it were going to pop out, and land on the floor. Denmark bit his lip. He began to panic inside. Was Iceland going leave? Was he disgusted by the thought of his "sibling" having romantic feelings for him? He shut his eyes, only to open them as he was embraced by small arms, watching them wrap around his waist.
"I love you too, Matthias..." Came a whisper, causing the Dane's cheeks to flush a scarlet. This was a dream. He knew it. It was one of God's ways of punishing him for loving another man, his brother no less. He was surprised when Iceland was suddenly in front of him. There was only one thing his numb could think to do. He leaned down, and planted a kiss on the smaller Nations plump, pink lips. They fit perfectly together, like a two puzzle pieces. He savored the moment, loving it when Iceland wrapped his arms around his neck. If this was a dream... no. He knew this wasn't a dream, or an illusion. His intoxicated self had long since vanished. He was living in reality. As they pulled apart, he stared into his newly found lovers eyes, smiling.
"Now let's get you and your house cleaned up. It smells horrible."