Chapter 6
Hundreds of small streaks of sunlight make it through the cracks of the window blinds, lightening up the otherwise dark room. Some of the light lands on the sleeping figure on the bed, showing pale white skin and messy blonde hair. But the person occupying the bed, won't be lying there for long.
Mathias is woken by a ray of sunlight blinding his eyes. He blinks, turns, and immediately regrets everything. Nausea hits him like a truck of bricks, and he has to do everything in his willpower NOT to throw up the very little food he had yesterday. He spends a few moments just hanging onto the edge of the bed until the world stops spinning.
Swallowing down the bile of vomit, he carefully pushes himself up by the elbows to rest his back against the headboard. Immediately, the thought 'I shouldn't have done that' comes to mind. He sighs, knowing that thought won't do him much good now. So instead of wallowing in self-pity, he stumbles out of the comfortable bed and into the bathroom. On unsteady feet, he makes his way over to the sink, staring blankly down the drain for a few seconds, before he turns on the tap and drinks thirstily from the cold water. Once he has quenched his thirst, he lifts his head up to stare in the mirror in front of him.
Self-loathing and disgust hit him all at once. The face in the mirror is a stranger to most, but an old friend to Denmark. There's unimaginable pain and exhaustion in his eyes, an attribute to all the wars and death and loneliness he's endured. He lets out a low and tired sigh, coming deep from his chest. Smile. Just smile, he says to himself. He does. The smile does little to hide the pain in his eyes.
Shaking himself out of his melancholic state, he walks back into the bedroom. He takes one look at the clock before he rushes to get dressed.
7:51.
Crap.
He's out the door in less than 5 minutes, still tussling with the buttons of his shirt and struggling with tying his tie. He's out of breath by the time he stands outside the broad doors to the Meeting Room. He takes a deep breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Put on a big smile. And… Go.
Mathias walks in and is immediately met by hundreds of eyes staring at him. He looks at the large antique clock hanging at the end of the room. 7:59. He isn't late. So why are they staring at him?
Ah. Perhaps because he's one of the main characters in the story. Great.
Ignoring the stares, Mathias takes a seat. Convincedly, it's beside Lukas, who looks like he's also had a bad morning.
"Where the fuck have you been, Dan?" the Norwegian hisses.
"Sorry, I overslept." Mathias knows how he must look. With disheveled hair and bags under his eyes, he doesn't exactly make for a perfect picture.
Norway gives him a strict look.
"Really? It seems more likely that you overdrank."
Denmark is about to come with some sort of comeback but is interrupted by Germany.
"Are everyone present?"
The German looks over the room and, hearing no protests, continues "Let's continue on to chapter 5, then."
The last thought that hits Denmark, before the Voice begins to read, is Fuck. I didn't get any coffee.
Chapter 5. In the first several days of their journey, they keep a steady stream of conversation…
The nations listen as Peter asks a million questions to Denmark. They are also curious to know. What has happened to the big cities? Who's alive and who isn't? What happened to them?
They get some of the answers, when Denmark, honest and with a detached voice, explains what happened to Romano. Said person straightens up from his chair. Lovino would be lying if he said that he wasn't curious to know how his death happened.
"He made it through the initial bursts," Denmark says to him as he yanks on the back door of an overturned semi-truck. "The problem is that everything was still on fire and he was too hurt to get out of Cosenza in time. Here, hand me the crowbar out of my bag, will you?"
Iceland frowns. Denmark says it in passing like it's nothing. Like it just some dirt under his fingernails, that he needs to get away.
"What happened to Cosenza?" Peter hands Denmark the crowbar.
"Burned up. It was still on fire by the time I got there, but there's not much left."
Mierda*, Romano thinks to himself. As much as he didn't want the story to get to him, he can't help but feel deep sorrow in his chest, when Denmark mentions his burning cities. The Voice reads on, with Denmark explaining how Spain, whilst looking for Romano, found Italy out of pure luck. Unfortunately, by the time the two nations got to Romano, there was nothing left to bury. As Denmark finishes that sentence, he sighs and gives up on looking for food in the truck.
"Nothing worth taking in here."
The abrupt and honest explanation sends chills down the nation's spines. To Italy, it's terrifying how blunt and heartless Denmark can be. How can he be like that? He doesn't seem bothered at all!
But to the Nordics, and Denmark himself, it's not surprising. This was how they dealt with it. By speaking about it upfront instead of sugar-coating it. They all remember how they were during the Viking age.
Meanwhile, anger builds up in Romano's chest, and he has to grip the armrests as not to fly out of the chair and throttle Denmark.
"You don't sound too upset about it… How can you be like that?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"I mean, you sound like you don't even care."
Peter's rough words are like a stab to the heart. You sound like you don't even care. Mathias knows that this is far from the case. The opposite in fact. He's always gotten told that he cares too much. Unlike Norway and Sweden, Mathias has always put on a smile and put his trust in others. Even if it hurt him, he still goes out of his way to make others happy.
His other self goes on to explain that he's old and has therefore seen a lot of horrific things. By being completely straightforward about things, it's easier to deal with.
"I try to sugarcoat it into something it isn't, it makes it even worse when the truth hits you in the face."
That… actually makes sense. Romano relaxes his grip around the armrests. He hasn't completely forgiven Denmark yet, but can at least see where his trail of thoughts comes from. Italy doesn't agree on that, though.
"It sounds so hopeless!" he says, which he then discovers, he's not alone to think.
"It just makes stuff sound pretty hopeless." Sealand turns the bottle over in his hands and stares into the black dirt. "S'not very motivating."
Perhaps not, Ludwig thinks, but rather be direct than lying about it. He agrees with Denmark, when he goes on to say:
"There's a difference between being blunt and giving up hope."
He motions to the water. "Now finish that off. You haven't had anything to drink today."
"Neither have you."
"Yes I have."
"When?"
"Before you woke up."
"Liar."
"Just drink it, will ya?"
Sealand sighs "I'll have half of it. You can have the rest."
"All right, all right. You win." Denmark agrees.
As they begin to walk again, he tries not to notice when Denmark places the water back into the bag, untouched.
That idiot, Norway thinks to himself. Of course, he's being stubborn and putting himself in second place.
He glances over at Denmark, who looks like he couldn't care less. As if it's a standard procedure for him – to take care of other first before himself. Norway thinks about this as the story continues.
By the fifth day together, they have reversed positions. Now, it's Peter's turn to answer Denmark's questions.
"Were you outside when it happened?"
"No," Peter sighs. "I was at England's house the whole time. When the first flash happened, France couldn't even stand up and we had to pull him under a table to keep things from hitting him when they fell off of the shelves. When the second flash came, the roof caved in."
Peter continues to explain how they were all stuck under a table. The nations listen with rapt attention, eager to hear more about the calamity's beginning.
"England was talking a lot. He had a radio and kept trying to get help, but he talked to me a lot too. He kept waking me up. It was annoying."
England rolls his eyes while America laughs. Keep laughing and I'll poison your food, he silently schemes.
Denmark laughs and steps over them as well. "Coulda been worse…you could've been stuck with Alfred. He'd have talked your ear off."
"Hey!" the American sputters and glares at Denmark, who can only spare a half-apologetic glance to America. England can't help but grin, but it's quickly replaced by worry when Peter asks Denmark if he thinks that England is okay.
"Absolutely. If anyone could've beat their way through this bullshit, it's England."
England is weirdly touched by the Dane's words. Hope begins to spark in the Englishman. Maybe he is alive and well? Maybe he and France actually survived the apocalypse! Arthur stops to think. But how come he hasn't found Peter yet then?
Arthur visibly shivers. It's a question, he hopes won't get answered.
Denmark seems positive that both he and Francis is still alive, though, and he comes up with the idea, that England and France were probably also shipped to Germany and just got dropped off at a different shelter.
"We'll probably run into them eventually if they brought 'em to Germany too. There are bunkers all over the place, it's just a matter of finding them."
Sealand doesn't seem too convinced, the Voice explains. There's a squirming sensation in his stomach, and Sealand starts to recall something from his time spent under the table.
"I think France is dead."
The blunt answer comes out of nowhere and the nations looks shocked over at France. Francis, himself, is pale. He reminds himself that it's just a story. It's not true. As Denmark and Peter argue back and forth whether France is dead or not, Arthur and Francis meet each other's eyes. Eyes, filled with worry and sorrow and love. Eyes, telling a story of old love and hatred and everything in between.
He's not dead. He can't be.
Arthur is positive about this. He soothes himself with this thought as the Voice continues to read.
Silence falls between them and it's only after they've left the airfield that Denmark cautiously continues. "Were you scared?"
Peter surprises himself when he has to think about his answer. "I don't remember."
"Are you scared now?"
"Are you?"
"I asked you first."
"Yes. Are you?"
Denmark's hand tightens around his and he looks up into the miserable sky.
"More than I've ever been in my entire life."
Mathias gnaws at his lip, which unfortunately, is becoming a bit of a habit. There's only been a few numbers of times where he has been truly scared. Losing Sweden and Finland in 1523 was one of them. Losing Norway was another. Then there was Iceland and Greenland, who he rarely sees anymore. No, being alone was his greatest fear.
At least in this story, he has Peter. Mathias looks at his young nephew, who's sitting in Sweden's lap, and he is comforted by the fact, that Peter still hasn't lost his childishness and his innocence. At least not yet.
In the story, Denmark and Sealand make it to the Trading Post after 8 days. It's a camp, well hardly a camp. Just a series of mismatched and ruined boxes set up as trading posts. The whole camp is surrounded by scorched hills and dilapidated factories and the tarps are fairly well hidden by the environment, nestled deep in the huge gouge below. It's a chilling description, but the nations doesn't have time to think about it when Peter and Denmark begin their descent down into the gorge and Denmark tells Peter to stay close to him.
"People are here to trade, yeah, but they'll also steal if the opportunity makes its self known. That includes people. Don't let your guard down."
"Oh, how humanity has changed" China mutters to himself. He's been around for thousands of years, and still humanity continues to surprise him.
They approach the market and are immediately greeted by throngs of yelling people who don't pay them much mind other than hungry glances.
The way that the Voice describes the people in the story is unsettling enough to scare even the toughest of nations. There isn't a single person who isn't marred in some way. All of them are emaciated and sallow, many missing pieces of themselves or raw with still healing scar tissue, still red and crisp around the edges. It's a horrifying image, Japan thinks to himself. He stares down at his food. He is suddenly not that hungry anymore.
They listen, as Denmark stops in front of an old man and stoops down to paw through one of his boxes. He hits jackpot when he finds a ratty winter jacket beneath a stack of old, moldy bibles. It's a bit too big for Peter, but it's better than nothing, it seems.
"Hey, old timer, whaddya want for this?" Denmark asks the old man.
The man blinks slowly and it takes Peter a moment to realize that both of his eyes are the same milky white as Denmark's left. "What is it?" He asks in a sick, wheezy voice.
Finland gasps, worried, when it turns out that the old man is completely blind and very sick. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks silently to himself. He's not the only one who has noticed it, though. Worried glances are spread throughout the room. And also in the story, it seems, since Sealand notices it as well. So, when the old man goes on to explain, it takes the breath out of all the nations. There's something in the ash, he says. It starts with your eyes and ears, then moves further down to your legs. In the end, it settles in the lungs.
"Don't know what it is, but everyone 'round here is dyin' of it."
Something drops in the pit of everyone's stomachs.
Everyone is dying of it.
"Uncle Denmark, will you die from it too?" Peter asks innocently.
Mathias smiles down at his nephew. "Of course not, kiddo. I'm a nation, we don't die that easily."
The story continues. The old man gives Peter a pair of boots which belonged to his son. Denmark, shocked, tries to pay the old man back with a can of baked beans, a scarf, and a pop top, but the old man stubbornly refuses.
The man waves him off. "Don't want'cher pity. M'doin' fine."
As he says this, he tries to push the beans back to Denmark, but misses and drops the can into the mud. Mathias recognizes the stubbornness in himself. He listens as his other self in the story, picks the can up, and places it in the old man's lap. He thanks the old man before they leave.
"Take care of yer boy" The old man says and waves blindly ahead.
Denmark nods. "I will."
As they begin the slow climb back to the street, it takes all of his willpower to ignore Denmark's foggy eye and the hard, uneven limp in his step.
The chapter ends and America leans back in his chair, baffled and, if he were honest, a tiny bit worried.
"Phew, this is intense!" the American finally exclaims, and the other nations can only nod. He said what they were all thinking. So far, the story has been absolutely depressing and all of the nations hopes that there'll be a positive turn of events.
Yet, the sickness that the old man described, doesn't worry the nations too much. They've all been through worse, so they're positive that Denmark survives. Right? The Netherlands is the first to think this thought, knowing that Denmark would make it out alive.
Denmark is strong, he'll make it through. No matter what, he will do whatever it takes.
Jan takes a quick look at Mathias, who's oblivious, and notices the tired- no exhausted look on the Dane's face. It's not the first time, he's seen that look on Mathias' face and he contemplates asking him about it but is suddenly interrupted by the Voice.
*Mierda means 'shit' in Spanish.
A/N: I would like to give a big thank you and hugs to glassamilk for 1) writing such an amazing fic that an amateur try to make a story out of it (which I can never hope to be near as good), and 2) being so nice to let me use some of it in this fanfic.
This is not a "copy and paste" fic. I will be using sentences from the original "Gutters" but will out of respect for the author, write it in a different way to not copy the whole story. My last intention is to offend anyone. Please come with reviews or any constructive criticism if you feel like it!