Title: Cracks
Summary: Iceland is accustomed to waking up alone. One morning, however, he is not.
Pairings: Implied Sweden/Finland, implied Denmark/Iceland
Disclaimer: Hetalia Axis Powers and the short stories of creepypasta dot net are the creations of Hidekaz Himaruya and an unknown author respectively. I am merely a writer taking creative liberties.
It might happen one morning that you wake up home alone. This could be normal depending on your situation, but this morning will be different. While your environment will all seem exactly the same, you'll notice that everything is quieter than normal. If you go outside, you will notice a distinct lack of anything like birds, insects, or people. As far as you travel, you will not encounter another sentient human being. The entire world will be intact, empty except for you.
There are currently over 100,000 missing persons cases in the United States. People slip through the cracks all the time.
Iceland was not unaccustomed to waking up alone in the morning.
Ever since he had walked out of his brother's home upon the eve of his adulthood, he had mostly lived alone aside from the occasional visits from his small group of acquaintances. And since they barely had anything in common with Iceland aside from some business matters, he never saw them often, aside from the irritating 'big brother' of a Dane that had developed the tendency of visiting his home when drunk. His real brother was used to his independent ways and only visited every other month, when he could find the time and effort to deal with the prickly wall of briars that had sprung up between them, despite the fact that he could still find his clothes in Iceland's wardrobe.
However, the day was Easter, and his brother had been visiting, as he always did. Norway was a man of habit; in the morning he would wake up, earlier than Iceland, to prepared breakfast and coffee, and go out for a walk. Thus, the scent of percolating coffee pervading Iceland's olfactory glands was usually the first sensation he encountered upon waking when Norway visited.
This morning, however, there was only the heavy, clear air of dense mist pressing against the windows and a sense of suffocation he woke up to. Had Norway slept in? No, impossible; he valued his routine even more with Iceland around. Had Iceland, then, mistaken the date? Come to think of it, Iceland could not remember greeting his brother the night before…
Then it hit him. Puffin was gone. His fingers groped groggily for the warm, feathered body, but it was no where to be found. Silly as it sounded, Iceland cherished his pet as much as Norway valued his routine, and the loss, accounted while still half-asleep, left him in a state of frantic disorientation. To him, it seemed, even the sounds outside had ceased as he searched for his longtime companion.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, shivering as his bedcovers fell away. He draped his jacket, the first article of clothing he had managed to find, over his shoulders and made for the phone. If he could connect with someone – Norway, Tino, Berwald, even Denmark – he would find out what was happening. It sounded good to his sleepy mind as the jacket buttons slipped out of his clumsy fingers. He called the first person on speed dial and put him on speakerphone, as he successfully put on his shirt.
"The number you dialed does not exist. Please check the number you are dialing."
Iceland stared in disbelief. Yesterday, when he called Norway, his number had worked just fine. Perhaps Norway's phone was just malfunctioning. Yes, that would be it – his brother had never cared for Denmark's gift. He grabbed his trousers and proceeded to pull them on as he called the other people on his phone book. Polite, rude, obtrusive, he just did not care, let someone answer the phone!
"The number you dialed does not exist. Please check the number you are dialing."
"The number you dialed does not exist. Please check the number you are dialing."
"The number you dialed does not exist. Please check the number you are dialing."
By this time, Iceland's nails had left bloody imprints in his palm. He flipped through his phone book nervously, cursing his reticence, and threw it down before pushing the window open. Perhaps a breath or two of cold morning air would clear his mind. He was about to inhale deeply when he froze.
There was no sound of life outside; no twittering of birds, no road sounds. The only thing Iceland could hear was his own ragged breathing.
He was completely and utterly alone.