So this is my first fanfic...ever. If it sucks dont hate me.

One of those nights

It was one of those nights again. Denmark was sitting at the bar, drinking his head off. Earlier that day he had been stupid enough to think about the past, the good old days when they still had shown their love for him. And he always ended up getting drunk when he did that.

He really should go home and sleep, but every time he closed his eys he saw their old playgound in the Viking age, the meadows they walked trough in their journeys, all the games they likes to play so much. And each time it feels like someone rips his heart out.

So hi sits there, at least for a little while more, wondering what the hell went wrong. How Sweden could choose that little bastard over him? Sure maybe they didn't got along in the end, but that was only becouse Sweden never did what he was told, and acted rebellious, and they fought almost every day, but after their fights, when they sat there looking at eachother, realising that what they just done didn't matter. They blonged there, together. And then he just run of with that kid, leaving him alone.

No, not alone, he had Norway. It wasn't like he didn't like Norway, he loved him, really. Denmark sighed. Theres no reason to deny it. Sweden was his favorit, and had always been. And he was fairly harsh against Norway after Sweden left.

He started to giggle. A drunken laugher. Sweden wanted to become his own when he first found Finland in the woods, it was then theirs troubles had started. And after fight, wars, Denmark had to compromise Sweden back to him, in a union, and he then even could have Finland, who was the cause of evrything that went wrong, even though Sweden never seemed to really care about him when they lived with Denmark. And then, they just run away! And when he found them, he saw how bad it was. Sweden didnt love him anymore, he acted like he nerver had. All their moments over the centuris of friendship, brotherhood, love, didn't matter at all to him. He didn't even hate him, he was nothing.

The pain was familliar and Denmark wanted to cut his heart out and tore it into pices, see the blood flowding out of his chest, gather on the floor under him. Maybe the pain would go away then. Denmark got up, left the bar and started to walk home. It was weird. He wanted the pain to go away, still he wanted it to remaind him of better times. He wanted young Sweden to crowl up in his knees and ask for a bedtimestory about the old gods, even though he knew them by heart already. He wanted teenage Sweden to laugh with him, eager to show Denmark that he could take care of himself. He wanted the love back. He wanted to hold Sweden in his arms, he wanted to be hlold by him, feel his skin against him. He wanted to feel his kisses, not just imagine them, and the taste of him. He wanted to have him inside, to be inside him. He wanted them to have rough sex where their sweat gets mixed with their blood, like they have had so many times before. He wanted to make sweet love with him, feel every touch, shivering and move, hear every gasp and moan. He wanted to watch him sleep, see that satisfied smile he only shows then. He wanted his love.

He wanted Normay to understand, to stop being so angry with him, to stop trying to hurt him. He wanted to go back in time, even just to whatch the love from a distans. But most of all, he wanted Sweden back, even just for one day.

He started to laugh again. Like Sweden didn't want that, sure he was "maried", but nobody could replace him, at least not that little bastard, known as the "wife".

He walk by a kissing couple. Ha! Stupid humans. They will never understand either. A broken heart never really heals compleatly and he envy those human that don't have to meet their old lovers like he do, never had to make them not so full of hate against him. Ofcourse it is his own fault that Sweden hated him. The wars between them, how Denmark hated Sweden at some times. And he was hated back. But then the hatred was a good thing. Yes, he wandted love, but he made Sweden hate him. And hate was so much better then nothing, so he would take his hate everyday if that meant that he never would have to see that look in Swedens face that said that he didn't matter to him again. Then he had something to work with.

Denmark closes the frontdoor behind him, moving like a zombie, when he walks by a picture of a bridge. The brige. The bridge that conected them. He smiles as he gets ready for bed, a happy feeling returning.

Yes, the bridge that is now conrecting them. It was even Swedens idea in the first place.

He picks up the phone, not thinking about the time, calling a number.

And just after a few tones the phones owner answers.

"'Ello"

"Guess who?"

"Vad vill du, Danmark?" you could hear the disturbed look on his face.

"Grumpy, huh?" Denmark laughs "Talk. Thats what I want, just talk."

There was a silence on the other line.

"... f'ne."

Denmark smirks. So maybe, just maybe, there is hope after all.