I really hope you all like this chapter, it's got some very quick changes in scenes but eh I'm very sorry
don't forget to leave comments they always make my day! Have a lovely week (:

Mathias slipped from under the Dutchman's arms, packing whatever of his things last strewn across the floor and on the bed. His attempts to not stir the other was for naught as a groan of protest came from the bed, hiding his things by the base of the bed he sat down beside Lars, hands combing through the still sweat sodden locks and mumbled sweetly to him, 'go back to sleep, I'm just going to the bathroom.' which was replied to with a sigh of relief and a small smile as Mathias littered pecks all over his face, lips lingering on the corner of his mouth for a few seconds. As soon as he was sure the Dutchman had fallen back asleep Mathias was off again, changing into clothes and halfheartedly trying to tame his hair as he picked up his bag and left at the early hours in the morning.

His chest ached from leaving Lars behind, for slipping away to walk off in the dead of night so nobody would see his panic. He bit his tongue realising he'd be leaving the Dutchman who had the comforting smell of old books and cinnamon, who's voice was sweet honey and melted caramel, who's eyes were fields of grass and the tulip fields he loved so dearly. A lump grew in his throat as the door closed behind him and he came to the realisation that he wouldn't be hearing the rare laughter that sounded like falling rain and was so soothing he craved it like a warm cup of coffee. With his chin held high and his back straight he closed his eyes and swallowed back the lump that was clogging his throat.

He knew he himself yearned for love and yet he was pushing it away in fear of his thoughts being overcrowded when the man he loved woke up and gave him the soft look that was sure to have been there when he saw that Mathias was beside him. That kindness and adoration he wanted to taste and keep but knew he could not.

And Mathias chose to run and hide from possibly the only good thing he'd come across in a very long time.

xxx

He dreamed of how life could be with him and Mathias, the Dane sitting on the pier not far from his house that he rarely went to as opposed to the loft he was so dearly attached to, of the sunlight bouncing of the pale blonde of his hair and lighting up the pure and strange shade of blue his eyes were, of his feet kicking over the edge and skimming over the surface of the water that Lars was swimming in. Of the Dutchman tickling the ends of his toes as the water brushed by his bare feet just to get the sound of laughter to his ears over the gentle lapping of water against wood and whistle of air. But that sweet dream of Mathias with his stone washed jeans, rolled up to the knees so they wouldn't get wet turned into one where he was saying in an oddly sweet voice with the slightest tinge of guilt mixing in with it that he was going to the bathroom, that Lars should just go to sleep and he'd be back in a moment.

Lars wasn't unsurprised when he found the other side of the bed empty when he finally came back to the waking world, his fingers lazily drawing patterns on the side of the mattress remade to look like nobody had even been there. He lay there, slowly blinking sleep from his eyes as sunlight started to touch the sheets just as his fingers came across a little square of paper situated at the base of the pillows.

I'm afraid I'm in love you too.

Was he afraid to be in love with him as well or was he saying it was a bad thing for the Dutchman. That he couldn't decipher but he folded the piece of paper up and pressed it to his chest anyhow, trying to figure out what Mathias was trying to say.

He didn't understand Mathias at all.

Pulling on jeans and a shirt from the night before he left his hotel room with his keys jingling in his hand and his heart pounding anxiously against his chest, anger and sadness swirling together violently and knitting together as it screamed and barreled it's shoulders into his ribs. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were wide as he felt his mind tear apart from where it was resting in the false sense of tranquility and hope while he banged on the Dane's hotel door, the door opened with a click and he found himself face to face with a cleaner who's lips were twisted into an unimpressed frown. Lars frantically looked behind her for any sign of Mathias, clothing, his things maybe even him with his body laid out in exhaustion across the couch. Nothing. There was nothing to suggest he'd ever even been there. Apologising to the cleaner who was starting to get wary of Lars he sprinted down stairs. The sadness and loss of hope was what he feared and hated and he wasn't able to cope with the menacing twist to his thoughts jeering at him for ever wishing for a fairy tale ending between him and Mathias.

"Is Mathias Kohler still anywhere in the hotel?" He spoke in broken French to the clerk who smiled who was all pearly white teeth and gelled down hair.

"I'm afraid monsieur he had left early this morning, a taxi was called to take him to the airport, why?"

He closed his eyes, taking in a few shaky breaths he stepped back, nodding as if he were expecting it and his shoulders slumped. "What time?"

"Around 4am. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nee. Thank you."

A snow storm had began to brew outside and after leaving the clerk, he packed his things away as he brewed over his losses. Lars almost choked on his breath when he caught sight of Mathias's jacket sleeve peeking out from beneath the corner of the duvet and he quickly scooped it up into his arms and pressed it to his nose to covet the sweet smell of the Dane, oaky and baring the mouthwatering scent of strawberries from his shampoo. He shouldn't have been so foolish as to believe they would continue on as usual. He shouldn't have been so rash in his actions as to scare the Dane, he should have taken it slowly, pried away the walls brick by brick instead of ripping it all away in one go so he would be able to see a glimpse of what Mathias had hid from everybody and everything. As he check out and slipped into the back seat of the taxi, mindlessly mumbling to go to the airport, euros being handed over to the driver.

As he walked to the terminal, feeling as if he were suffering from an out of body experience, not feeling as if he were the one controlling his body and making it move in long strides as big dense flakes hit his eyes and puddles grew in his shoes and the cold crept into the core, embracing the consuming pathetic feeling with a thin veil. It wasn't going to be easy trying to find the Dane but he'd try.

And he'd just keep on trying.

He'd try to find him and most of all he'd try to understand the man he was sure he'd never be able to.

xx

He was missing for months, nobody had any idea where Mathias had gone to and if anybody knew they did a damn well good job of hiding it, he sent a representative to every meeting he was to go to, social events he was missing. And Lars was sure he was going grey with stress the entire time despite Alice's constant reassurances. On every holiday however a few thousand dollars appeared in his account out of nowhere and he wasn't an idiot he knew who put them there any why. An apology of sorts, small hand written cards that always ended with please wait for me, please forgive me. All Lars had as a reminder that the Dane ever existed were the hastily written letters and the jacket he'd left in the hotel room, the smell of him long gone from it save for the faint scent of smoke stuck in between the fibres that Lats had tried to save in desperation for at least a trace of him.

Since January 23rd he was off the map and nearly 11 months later did he decided to swan into a nation meeting, the day after Christmas one that Lars was forced to host but refused to say a word during it with his suit pressed and looking as gorgeous as Lars remembered, however he was sided with a much taller Swede who he took his seat next to, purposely ignoring the Dutchman who's heart had stopped as soon as he caught sight of the Nordic. His throat closed up and he couldn't stop staring, while everybody murmured in surprise at his sudden appearance Lars was at a loss for words, the worry sliding off his shoulders to make room for the hurt and anger he'd been repressing for months upon months the longer he stares at the Dane who looked as careless as ever, flicking through paperwork and talking to anybody who approached him with a look of bewilderment.

A few of the nations in the room weren't so good at hiding their lack of surprise, namely Italy, Alice, Spain...

He watched him the entire time while slowly chewing on crackers he wasn't aware of being stale, the texture terrible against his teeth and the wheat dry as he forced himself to swallow it down, jaw tight as his sister held a hand warningly to his knee to stop him from leaping across and screaming at Mathias who had left him with a single note admitting he was in love with him. He had every right in the fucking world to be pissed off.

Mathias took long drinks from the thermos he'd brought in with him, the same thermos that would every so often end up Sverige's hands and went back and forth between them during the entirety of the meeting and from the glazed looks coming to both their eyes he was certain whatever was in there was anything but a non-alcoholic drink. He watched as they simultaneously glared at the Englishman who was ranting at the front of the room, as they turned a blind eye to the screaming fit between Egypt and America, and as at one point while Sverige was intently listening to Deutschland drone on about the situations in Europe, Mathias had turned to stare right back at the Dutchman, his eyes apologetic and his mouths forming the words to the apology.

He knew he was sorry, he'd gotten all those notes. He wanted to accept it but he was furious. He smiled tightly and continued to stare him down, the anger starting to end up in the same pit as all the worry the more he looked across at the Dane, stress lines carved ditches into Mathias's forehead, bags under his eyes, and his smile was strained as if he were trying to hold back tears. He looked drained and when he looked away the scarf obscuring his neck hid the obvious tense hold to his jaw.

Oh.

Maybe he had a valid reason to go off the map, maybe just maybe he had a reason to slip away after telling Lars he loved him back but Lars...just couldn't fathom why.
What was he even doing for all that time? And why was he wearing a scarf inside while the heaters were on high. What was part of himself was he trying to hide from the world?

Was he swallowing people into his mouth the way he had months before to the Dutchman? Was he working himself to the bone to forget that night? Was he simply giving himself time to relax and find himself again and sort through the lost emotion that had hit him like a storm when it returned?

What the hell had been so important that we wouldn't come to meetings?

Lars didn't notice that the nations in the room had started to disperse save for the Dane who his eyes were still glued to in a hazed daydream built up by questions that only fell unanswered the more he questioned everything about the Dane, Mathias stared back, head inclined just so as he talked in that silky purr of a voice to the Swede at his side until the taller Nordic nodded once and left the pair along in the conference room. The Dutchman stood up slowly, treating the other as if he were a wild animal that would be spooked by the slightest unexpected movement. When Mathias stood up as well from his seat, taking the time to adjust his suit jacket and push in his chair before he turned to Lars and smiled faintly. He however wasn't expecting the Dutchman to come running at him with a hand to his throat under the fabric of his thick scarf, the Dutchman who used the leverage he had to press the other against the wall behind them, nostrils flared and teeth bared.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" He pinned him against the wall, arm at his throat in a similar fashion to how he'd threatened Norge however this time there was no struggle from the man under his arm rather a passive sigh and he looked away. Lars wondered if he'd been shamed into submissive silence. "I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN A FUCKING YEAR."

"You look like a wild dog when you're angry, it's similar when you eat as well...a starved animal." The smell of gin and juice was thick in his breath and his words were ever so slightly stumbled, still honey coated in with the ever present smooth and sultry tone and the faint smile on his face never left him as he stared at the ground. "I've been everywhere."

"..."He waited for him to continue, impatience starting to get the best of him he tightened his grip around the Dane's neck, scratchy wool irritating his fingers. The animalistic and purely instinctual violence that came from people of their kind. Mathias understood, the knowledge clear in his hazy grin that dissolved into a series of chokes until Lars let up.

"Italia, Espana, at Alice's, at Russiya's at my own house...England...Deutschland...America...everywhe re you could imagine...and then some..."

"At Sverige's?"

"He's been in Copenhagen you know I wouldn't step a foot in his country."

"In Copenhagen or in you?" He spat.

"Don't be ridiculous it was all purely business." Mathias looked at the Dutchman, hurt clear in his eyes. "The entire time I was away...I thought about you. I wished you were with me."

"Then why wasn't I with you?"

"Because I thought you'd hate me. Everybody who says they loves me despises me after something like what we did happens...because they got what they wanted and realised all they wanted was a one night stand instead of something serious and the infatuation they had was just for my body and not for me. Lars I didn't want to wake up and have to make that walk of shame after knowing it was all bullshit."

His grip loosened up ever so slightly, twisting his wrist as to get his fingers under the fabric of the scarf to yank it away, when his eyes came to meet a crisp white gauze covering the side of his neck Lars let his arm drop away. Quickly taking to stuffing his hands in his pockets, guilt and jealously already built up in his chest. Dropping all eye contact the Dutchman backed away and left as quickly as he could, embarrassment turning his cheeks red and pulling his lips down in a scowl. He kept walking as quickly as his feet was carry him even when Mathias yelled after him, telling him to stop. The sound of sprinting footfall almost made him start running to stay out of reach, he fought back the hot tears that sprung forth to his eyes as the Dane caught him by the bicep and forced him tot stand still.

He was briefly reminded of the inhuman power Mathias did contain, sure nations all held a level of it but some...force decided to give Mathias the type of power that could crush a city without batting an eyelash or breaking a swear. Lars chose not to fight against it in case in an influx of forgotten strength the Dane ripped his arm out of his socket. It was the danger Mathias possessed that drew Lars to him like a moth to a flame. And that contact sent shivers up his spine and a whine to draw out from his chest.

"What are you doing Danmark."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name isn't it? Danmark."

"It's not what you think it is."

"Is he a good fuck Danmark?"

"Lars for fucks sake I didn't have sex with him. You know my relationship with him he attacked me, stabbed me in the side of the neck with a wine bottle. Go ask himself yourself, ask Finland even. He was there for the entire thing, he had to pry him off me before I bled all over the fucking carpet. See you at the next meeting Netherlands." The Dane glared at Lars, his expression a poisonous scowl and his hand fell away, turning on heel he swore to himself in his native tongue. And this time it was Lars' turn to grab the Dane and force him to face him, the sound of his real name coming from Mathias felt like a slap to the face. It stung on the last syllable and the sneer that followed with it sent white hot fear through his nervous system.

"Hold on for one fucking minute."

"Let go of me."

"I'm not letting go of you when you've been gone for eleven bloody months." He shook the Dane violently, both hands clamped down tight on his shoulders. "You're not going anywhere until you explain everything to me."

"I'm in love with you and I'm scared of getting hurt again so can you please take your hands off me before I do it myself and we both know that won't end well." It was fear and not anger that graced Mathias features, anguish and no traces of hostility. Disappointment instead of loathing and that was just as bad. Lars shook his head ferociously, on the verge of shaking Mathias again hoping that the sense will go with the action, rather he put his frustration into crushing his lips against Mathias'. The other locking up before he kissed back, his fingers clawing at the back of his neck to keep him in place while his mouth moved with just as much passion and anger as the Dutchman contained, the anger of which was slowly having affection leak into it until the lip lock turned into something sweet, chaste.

"Let me take you out to dinner." Lars whispered into his mouth, tongues twining together in a messy dance. "We need to catch up...Mathias..."

"Please."

He had been praying to a god he was sure wasn't listening that he and Mathias would end up together, and it was like wishing for rain in the middle of the desert hopeless but he was still hopeful, and he held the Dane closer than most because he was his heaven and that was the one little pleasure he wished to keep.

Lars had a second chance and by god he was going to take it.

xx

There was something about Mathias, in the way his dimples cutely shaped his smile and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and when he laughed it was at the simplest things people looked over where he saw beauty and potential. The way he appreciated the Dutchman's hands of an artist, fingers which could sketch the illusion of life onto paper with the flick of a wrist and Mathias would lavish those fingers with attention in the way he was now, turning over the palm of his hand and tracing the bumps and dips and joints of his fingers. The Dane held the ideas of a mad man and that combined with Lars' talent and eye for art would create endless impossibilities that their minds would not be able to comprehend until they were put into action.

The way Mathias would watch things that were so common like the way the snow kissed the ground below in silent whispers, the way leaves blew along cracked pavements and hissed upon contact with gravel by runaway breezes and the way the clouds would chase that wind and mold into an assortment of shapes that would cause the Dane's laughter to melt into the chilling wind. The way his voice would crack in the mornings ever so cutely and his nose would scrunch up as he yawned whenever he had a night where he managed to rest, the very voice Lars had been on the verge of killing to hear and just as he was able to have that tone reach his ears it felt like heroin was injecting into his veins, his guilty little pleasure he was overzealous to get another kick from.

He was unable to stay still, always needing to move, to do something, or have something dangerous in between his index and digitus medius. Mathias still had the fearlessness of the Viking days in his blood and the mind and curiosity of an explorer that fueled his wanderlust for things that no longer existed, he had this addiction to vintage photos and many, oh boy hundreds were stuck to the walls of his bedroom as an example and all of them would light up in the early eyes of the morning and the reminders of the good days would almost have a presence in the room, be made apparent. Mathias was simple yet unique in this way that he refused to be different but he just wanted to remain himself.

And Lars was happy to say that all those little things were what made him himself the most beautiful being on the face of the planet. He spoke to Lars over the table with his shirt cuffs being undone absentmindedly, his words and fiery temper fueled by a rare passion as he explained where he'd been and why, the tasks undergone in secret, the people he worked for and favours he had called upon for assignments he had been granted, how he'd stumbled into unwanted work that he'd only just managed to break away from with sums of money in his back pocket and adventures that would follow him until something new came along to take their place.

The deep blue of his eyes were flared with the ferocity of not being able to control the actions Norge had forced upon him as he spoke of the day he'd left Paris for the first time during the freezing January. How he had to pick where to go and who to go to without feeling as if he'd hurt people in the process, he didn't turn to Lars in fear of what would happen to their relationship and he slipped away in the early hours of the morning so he wouldn't find out what would happen after that night of intimacy. His words were things of passion and compassion, his previous actions direct yet considerate and the Dane Lars had felt as if he didn't understand at all within those few short hours he finally understood him in his entirety.

Mathias's charisma was an addiction unhealthy and healthy at the same time but Lars couldn't find it in himself to care. The Dane was a creator and a destroyer in some sense, the warm smile he gave to people was just a false mask to hide the danger that glinted in the blues of his eyes when a flame caused light to glint against them just right. He was a personal drug to the Dutchman, that everybody including himself despised to a certain degree by craved, needed, wanted. That strange nation with the musical laugh and the freckles he tried to cover up with over expensive make up was everything that felt right in the world, the knowledge he could be a protector despite his dangerous past.

It was because he was the kind of person that would hunt for four leaf clovers in tall standing grass and would drink in sights that one would see every day as if they were moments he would remember dearly for the rest of his existence that people found him such a pleasure to be around. Again that easy grin with the shockingly perfect teeth was enough to win a person over until they heard him speak that slight win would turn into an infatuation nobody could control.

However he had scars that showed the battles and wars he'd fought in with more bloodshed than was intended, he fought his own person demons in his personal hell when what happened on the surface was practically a Sunday walk to him than what went on in his head and Lars wanted to change that, to help the truths that wouldn't seek out the light be graced by it. To change that smile actors would kill to be able to pull off into one that everybody can enjoy once again and know it's genuine.

And as the conversation grew more light hearted and playful and the bottle of wine dwindled down to nothing and the wind from the cold rainy night battered on the windows beside them they exchanged the matters of the world, over things that didn't concern them in anyway what so ever but in some ways connected them in a way they couldn't explain. As the night wore on and they left with an umbrella acting as a pathetic attempt of keeping dry and Mathias continued to chat Lars was able to appreciate the fact that the Dane was an individual in the ways he stood out from the rest of the nations, his thoughts and feelings, his actions and silkily spoken words made him a whole and gave him and identity the others could only wish to have. He relied on the things he already owned and wished to have, his own peace and was careless of how the world would get brought down by the things he did, Mathias was a fire in the way he was dangerous and beautiful yet like anything he would become wounded easily but would heal just as flames would grow again once a drop of water was dropped into it. And with each time he healed he was wiser, stronger and so very much lovelier.

Lars acted in a burst of boldness as he lead Mathias to a small ally wedged between a bar and a bookstore and dropped their shelter in favour of pressing his thumbs to the crease of the Dane's lips, the others teeth pressing against the pad of the phalanges and his tongue swiping out to take the taste of soil and left over chocolate from Lars' favourite snack away from the skin and to suck on it until it dispersed. Mathias's fingers laced through the thoroughly drenched locks of Lars hair and their lips soon met in the sweetest of kisses, the traces of their dinner still lingering on each of their tongues. The Dane was leaning against the stone brick wall that was rubbing against the wool of his coat, legs a little tangled and tongues in a similar fashion as Mathias dragged his fingers down the back of Lars' neck to the curve of his back and tucked his hands into the back pockets of Lars' jeans to keep their bodies flush together.

And when they pulled away, hair stuck to their foreheads from the pouring rain Lars felt as if he'd gone insane the longer he stared into the ocean of Mathias's eyes, wide open and pupils dilated till the blue was barely visible, a thin ring around the pitch black. Lars combed the sodden locks from Mathias's face, slicking it back almost identically to a certain German's yet still he held that charming and boyish look despite the restyling. His freckles were highlighted by the yellow glow of the street lights and Lars couldn't help but press kisses to each one he could get to until he felt the rumbling laughter pour from Mathias's lips.

"It's been a while since somebody looked at me that." He murmured breathlessly.

Lars did nothing more but smile against the perfect angle of the Dane's nose and he could tell that for once.
Mathias wouldn't run.

"If you want to court me tonight feel free, you already took me out to dinner and paid with your own money." The Dane pressed a kiss to the end of his nose, catching droplets of rain water on his tongue before he tipped his head back and stared up at the pouring rain. "I feel amazing."

Mathias was Lars' love and his alone and for once he was able to keep that charisma and that rare comforting smile for himself.