Chapter 5
Time flies quickly, Denmark realizes, as he walks back with his family. In the short break, they had together walked out of the large World Center building to catch some fresh air.
Denmark, feeling more refreshed than he had this morning, sits down in his seat and is quickly joined by Sealand and Iceland, who take the seats next to him.
This time, Germany doesn't have to yell to get everyone to be quiet. The loud voices turn to whispers which then turns to complete silence.
And so the voice begins to read.
Chapter 4. He allows Denmark to carry him for a little over a kilometer, until the bunker it out of sight…
The voice begins to describe the landscape that Peter sees. The nations are horrified about what they hear. Everything is very much still there, but badly burnt. Trees are still upright, but all their leaves have been burned to ashes, reminding Peter of black like used toothpicks. The sky is clouded grey by the smoke and ash seems to swirl around them as they walk.
Germany is surprised to hear about how much the world has changed. He listens carefully, as Denmark explains to Peter how the highway can be a dangerous traveling road. People tend to hide in cars, waiting to attack anyone who passes by.
"Never go near the cars if you can help it," he points to the cracked windshield of an overturned delivery truck. "All of these have already been raided for supplies, but people sometimes hide in the bigger ones." He looks down when Peter nervously shifts closer to him and he squeezes his shoulder. "We just have a little further to go and we can get off the main drag. Don't worry."
But Peter does worry.
Who can blame him? Latvia thinks to himself. It must be absolutely frightening for such a young nation! Growing up, he was always scared of anything.
It doesn't help Latvia's growing fear when the voice describes how Peter imagines people with sunken eyes and greasy, loose skin with bits of bone and hair tired around their belts. It's a disturbing thought, which the Latvian would rather not delve too much into.
The Dane never lets him walk behind, however, and keeps a hand on him at all times; whether he has their fingers laced together or his palm flat against his shoulders, Denmark keeps him within reach and patiently stops every time Peter needs to take a break to catch his breath or rest his feet.
The Dane goes to pick up Sealand's backpack, but Peter refuses, saying that he's strong enough to carry it himself. Denmark only shakes his head and says:
"You've only been outside for a day. You gotta get used to it before you can push yourself too hard. If you go too fast, you'll hurt yourself." He gives him a friendly elbow. "First rule of the end of the world: only strain yourself when you have to. It's not worth it to screw yourself up over something little when you're gonna need to be in top shape when it counts."
Sealand carefully steps over the edge of the broken pavement. "How am I supposed to know when it counts?"
"You'll know."
"That doesn't exactly sound promising" the Netherlands points out. Belgium looks up at her big brother, who's face is contorted in a frown. For as long as she can remember, her brother has always been rather negative-minded.
"Foreshadowing, perhaps?" England chips in.
"Could be…" the Dutchman mutters, but falls silent again when the voice continues speaking.
"We should try to find a trading post tomorrow." He flops down next to Peter, crossing his legs, and pulls his pack into his lap, rummaging through it and inspecting several items. "We should be able to trade something in here for a coat and a pair of boots for you."
"Trading post?"
Denmark goes on to explain how the trading posts work, explaining how they're kind of like flea markets, where people can trade their stuff with each other. After a while, Peter begins to get tired, and Denmark carefully scoops him up and carries him to where he has set up their blankets. The nations listen as Denmark pulls his large coat over Peter, so he won't get cold. It's such a small gesture, but so considerate, that Canada can't help but smile.
"Y'can have your coat back…" Peter murmurs as Denmark lies down beside him. "M'not that cold."
Denmark's quiet laugh is warm on the back of his neck. "Yeah you are. You're still shiverin'.
"Am not."
"Are too."
Tino smiles at their sentimental and child-like bickering, but the smile quickly turns into a frown, when Denmark begins to freeze. In the story, Sealand notices this as well, so he wriggles closer to the older man and spreads the coat over them both.
"You're breaking your own rule, idiot," he mutters. "Stop being stupid."
He doesn't even need to see to know that Denmark is smirking when he rolls over and catches Peter around his waist and pulls him in to a smothering hug. "You sound like Norway." He trails off for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Actually, you sound like all of them," he laughs quietly. "The calling me stupid thing, I mean."
"Well, it's your own fault for giving us a reason to call you stupid" the Norwegian rolls his eyes.
Peter frowns. "It's your own fault for giving them so much to call you stupid over."
Immediately, Norway turns to look at Denmark with a deadpanned expression on his face as if to say I told you so.
The Dane catches the expression and nervously scratches the back of his head. He's slightly embarrassed but before he can come up with a clever comeback, the voice carries on with the storytelling.
"I know."
A long, awkward silence stretches between them for several minutes before Denmark's arms just barely tighten around Peter's waist and he tilts his head down enough to allow the blankets to brush over his ears.
"We'll find them," he says sternly. "We're gonna find them."
"Yeah..." Sealand bites his lip and squeezes Denmark's shaking hand.
"I know."
The defeated answer from Sealand bothers Denmark. It's as if Sealand doesn't quite believe it himself. Denmark ponders about this for a minute. Then again, does he really have a reason to believe him? The odds of finding their family in a post-apocalyptic wasteland are almost zero to none.
The room begins to empty out, but Denmark takes his time, completely lost in his thoughts. He doesn't notice as Norway gives him a concerned glance before shaking his head and leaving the room. The Dane can take care of himself, Lukas convinces himself, he's fine. Lukas lets himself believe that, and yet… Yet, a worrying thought lingers in the back of his mind. A thought which states that everything might not be fine.
Denmark is one of the last to leave the room. He's sadly not surprised that his family didn't invite him to come with them. The Dane lets out a loud sigh. I need a smoke, he thinks as he strides down the large corridor. He pauses for a moment before adding, and a drink too...
He opens the front doors to the streets and can finally let himself breathe. For a moment, he's overwhelmed by the loud traffic noises, but he quickly reminds himself to just breathe and a panic attack is thankfully avoided.
A pack of cigarettes is fished up from his back pocket as well as a lighter. He struggles with the lighter for a moment before it finally lights up, and he lets the small flame come in touch with the cigarette, which is hanging loosely from his lips. A drag of the toxic killer and he's in heaven.
Aaah sweet nicotine, you never let me down.
After a few heavenly drags of the cigarette, Mathias begins to slowly stroll down the busy street. As he walks, he begins to take in the city. People from left and right rushes past him, evidently in a hurry to be somewhere. They're rushing because they know that someone is relying on them to be there. To be somewhere to someone.
One thing is for sure.
Mathias takes a long drag of his cigarette and slowly exhales. He watches as the smoke gets carried up by the wind and disappears into the air.
They won't notice if I'm not there.
His bleak thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name. Turning his head, he watches as Prussia runs through the streams of people only to stop in front of the Dane.
"Mat... Mathias, h-hey!" the Prussian pants and tries to catch his breath.
"Good thing I caught you! Me and some of the bros are going out drinking. Come with us!"
Mathias considers his options. He's not really in the mood for company, but… He really needs a drink after these few chaotic days. Fuck it. He plasters on a big smile.
"Sure, I'm in. Where to?"
"Alfred showed us this really cool bar a few blocks down the road. It's not far" he promises as they begin to walk. While they make their way down the street, Gilbert begins to ramble on about the Gutters fanfiction.
"Man, it's crazy to hear about how the world has gone to shit. I mean, could you imagine that actually happening?"
Denmark shrugs nonchalantly.
"I dunno, fucked up things have happened before."
Prussia agrees but then frowns.
"How can you be so chill about this? You're literally in an apocalypse story!"
"Yeah, but that's exactly what it is... a story" the Dane replies. But just as he has said those words, he is hit by a series of worrying thoughts. What if it's not just a story? What if it's actually going to happen?
Another set of terrifying thoughts hits him like a ton of bricks.
What if I fail Peter? What if I can't protect him?
He remains quiet the rest of the way, while the Prussian rambles on about what he would do in an apocalypse. He can only hum and nod absently when Gilbert states that "I would totally be awesome and kick all the bad guys' asses!"
They eventually reach the bar, which turns out to be one of the more luxurious kinds. America, England, Spain, and The Netherlands are already there and sitting on a couch in the corner of the room. Alfred sees them and waves them over, grinning from ear to ear.
"You guys made it!" the American scoops closer to England on his right to make space for Denmark and Prussia. Beers are handed out amongst them, and soon the conversation runs freely between the nations. Luckily, there's no more talk about the Voice and the strange Gutters story. Instead, the conversation mainly runs on jokes and nostalgic times, something for which Denmark is entirely grateful. The relaxing and carefree atmosphere is just what he needed, and he is able to forget about his worries for the rest of the evening.
As the evening progresses, the amount of alcohol does too. One beer quickly turns to two beers which then turns to more, until Denmark is too intoxicated to count them. By that time, England and Prussia are already passed out behind the couch and America has left the group in favor to get McDonald's. And Spain? Spain is dancing to "Asereje (The Ketchup Song)" and singing on the top of his lungs.
The Netherlands, not nearly as drunk as the Dane, watches Denmark trying (and failing horribly) to get up from his seat. After his fifth attempt, the Dutchman takes pity on him and wraps one arm around the Dane's waist to keep him upright.
"Alright Den, time to go home."
The slightly shorter man makes no objections, which suits Jan (Netherlands) just fine. Together they stumble out into the refreshing night air, the wind blowing softly through their hair. Jan must use most of his body weight to support the Dane, but at least he can still walk, albeit a little unsteady.
They make it to the hotel without any complications, which is a miracle in itself, the dutchman thinks to himself. He searches the Dane's pants for his room keys, having done this too many times to be embarrassed about where his hands are going. He finds them in the Dane's back pocket and swiftly opens the door to his room.
Dumping the Dane on his bed, he is already on his way out again, when he's stopped by a quiet plea.
"Please, no, don't leave me."
Jan is startled for a moment. This isn't something he would expect from the Great Kingdom of Denmark. But the plea sounded so vulnerable and genuine that it only could come from him.
"Go to sleep, Dan" the Dutchman rests his hand on the Dane's shoulder for a second, before he gingerly folds a duvet over him.
Denmark is faintly aware of a soft material caressing his cheek and the sound of a door closing before he succumbs to the sweet bliss of undisturbed sleep.