On Nordic Street - a Soap Opera about a cold place --Episode XX

Last edited by Tino/Finland on Mon Aug 09, 2010 5:54 pm; edited 1 time in total

Thank you for zipping over to Channel FiftyEleven. Next up will be "On Nordic Street", something that should be familiar to most of you already. Now this will be a very exciting episode as we will supposedly get to know more about this possible divorce coming up!

A glimpse back to what has happened:
Finland was finding his happily married life with Sweden, a dog and a kid a sudden bore. After a life full of chaos and pain he was not used to such simple happiness and he ventured out to find something new--in secret.
Then there was Denmark. Who for some reason had found interest in the already taken, younger man. And their ways crossed.
But the affair didn't stay secret for long. Both Norway, Denmark's on-off lover, and Peter kirkland, Sweden's adopted son, walked in during bad moments. Now the latter of course, is what cause the real crash.
Many fights and tears later Finland returned home, with the promise to never do it again. And Denmark promised the same. But once passion is there it is hard to deny, which leads us to the more recent parts of the story.
As you might have guessed Denmark and Finland did not manage to keep their hands away from each other and after a while Sweden walks in at the worst moment possible. The result is Sweden wanting to spend some time apart, saying he will stay at a hotel so that both Finland and Denmark can sort out what they want. That's where we jump back in.

- - -

Finland was sitting at a café, with an untouched, already cold cup of coffee in front of him. He stared at it, almost as if he thought a chicken would jump out of it if he stared long enough. Or maybe all this would disappear.

Sweden was probably packing by now. Putting his neatly folded shirts into that huge blue bag he always used. Taking the only tube of toothpaste they had. The picture of Peter from the shelf in their bedroom. Hopefully he'd remember that his favorite pants were still in the beside the washing machine since Finland had ironed them just yesterday.

Denmark... He had no idea where Denmark had gone. And he felt very ashamed of how much he was worrying about that. Sweden was leaving him and he was thinking about Denmark? It seemed like Sweden had a very good reason for it, didn't it? But... Sweden was his whole life.

What was going to happen now? He didn't want to go back home and see so many of those small things missing. He supposed he'd have to get a hotel room too. Bothering Eduard didn't feel like an option... He'd already done that the last time and... Well. He didn't feel he deserved the easy way. So he'dhave to go pack too. But not yet, as he didn't want to interrupt Sweden. He knew the man didn't want him there now and he knew why.

Why was it sometimes so hard to know what was best for himself? Denmark meant destroying all he already had. But why was it so extremely inviting? Why did he keep on being pulled in that direction? Why was it even possible to love two men like this?
Finland let out a deep sigh and finally took a sip of his ice cold coffee.

((TADADADAAAAH))

Normally, Denmark tended to think that simple solutions in situations like that one that just took place, were best. They usually included getting it all out, nice and clean, out of yer system, which in Denmark's popular meaning of the phrase meant fucking it out. And while he had never had much trouble with finding individuals perfectly willing to participate, alas to his utter astonishment he had found himself unable to even look at anyone else; Finland, blindfolded gasping Finland, whom he had never seen so much at ease and so relaxed (as he had been then, with Denmark roaming his skin) pressing against his closed eye-lids.

He was, if one chose to mention it subtly, royally pissed off with Sweden which wasn't really a feeling strange to him all together but it usually did not involve Denmark being furious with his disheveled self. Yeah, Sweden should have acted like a fucking man for once, instead of just packing his earthly belongings like the huge ponce HE OBVIOUSLY WAS and move out. And inviting Denmark to go and move in with his wife like some sort of a cheap rent-boy (and though Denmark liked to think he would make an absolutely brilliant escort he wasn't cheap by any means). How fucking infuriating could this get? You didn't let another man just...take your wife like that! Even if the other won, you just....didn't pack yer bags and back down like that. That wasn't the Sweden Denmark knew, that wasn't how Denmark expected this to turn out. He wanted a fight, a good one to, with them both ending up bruised and bloody beyond belief, providing some sort of sadomasochistic katharsis, because Denmark would have much rather woken up in a hospital with all his limbs missing than be left alone with his thoughts.

And so they were Denmark and his thoughts. Denmark, who once happened, just this once, find more than he'D bargained for while looking for a casual shag.
It did not of course justify anything he did. Finland was, it was a pretty plausible fact even for the Dane, a married 'woman' (if you chose to use Sweden's own completely delusional vocabulary) and therefore completely off limits, off limits as in 'yer should rather jump off a cliff than make a pass at him' off limits. However, Matthias did not jump off a cliff as other, more honourable nations might have been inclined to and snogged Finland's face off in turn.

Not that it hadn't happened before. The snogging, I mean, not the cliffing. Denmark had stole a few kisses from Finland here and there, to piss Sweden off mostly and see both of his Nordic 'siblings' go red like a freshly boiled lobster, for entirely different reasons respecively, of course. It kept him laughing, kept him occupied. But then it totally slipped out of control and Finland was kissing back and it just....it just....escalated like a nuclear leak and before he knew he was breathing Fin in. His skin, his scent, his giggles (that honestly could not pass as manly no matter how much Tino tried), that bubbled in his throat as if he'd been gargling champagne and how softly he spoke and how hopelessly he tried to make everyone around him happy without ever stopping to think if it made him happy.

So Denmark, subconciously, decided he was going to do something righteously selfless (or well, as selfless as the Danish man ever got) and be the only truly selfish thing in Tino's world. A bit like a Christmas present. A gift. Denmark would give and not take in return. And come to think of it, it all worked out pretty well. In theory that is. He had been Finland's lover or well more like a concubine that you hide under the bed, but still he hoped he made Fin happy and even now, when it was all over he thought he might have changed something for the better, doubtful as it seemed from the current perespective. Well, Finland definitely learnt a thing or two about himself. And his body.

As for Denmark, he didn't remain as uneducated as he would have wished for. Finland, not only turned out a much much better lay that Denmark would ever even dare to expect, but what he expected even less was to fall in love with Tino. It was the last thing on his mind when he was pushing Fin against walls to screw him senseless so he kind of didn't pay it much attention as it snuck in.

Now, he guessed, he was going through his own little kind of punishment. Because it hurt when it was Sweden that Finland was crying for, even though it was perfectly understandable and hey, it wasn't like Denmark wanted anything serious anyway, right? He sought out a casual fuck and he was a casual fuck himself. A simple exchange for both parties. All's fair.

He didn't realize when he actually went out. The Finnish hotel he had been staying in oddly awkward. And hell, Sweden would be staying in one too? It all was a bit of a daze. It was a bit too early for a drink and Norge refused to fly over at the snap of Danish fingers so he just...bummed around a bit.
The door swung open, a little old fashined bell tinkling, he looked around as he waited for his mug to be filled.

....

'Oh'

(fucking novel again....)

Guest

(Well, I'm going to look like a major dissappointment after all that, but here it goes.)

Sweden was standing in the middle of his room holding a picture as tears slowly made their way down his face. Sweden didn't really notice, afterall, although he rarely cried, its not like it was ever ragged noticable sobs. The picture was just a simple one in a polished wooden frame featuring two blonde men, with one at least a foot taller than the other and a small blonde boy also in the picture. The smaller man and boy were laughing, the older man looked more serious to a causal gaze, but closer inspection would yield a smile tugging at his lips and a certain happiness in his eyes behind the glasses.

Sweden still remembered the day the picture was taken. It was at a fair that Peter had dragged his parents to because it was such a nice day, and the boy had been going stir crazy due to how busy his parents had been with work lately. They had gone and had such a good time, with the picture taken at the end so that they could better remember it.

It had been one of the happiest days of his life. His son had been laughing almost nonstop with joy, and his wife had been at his side, smiling and talking to him. If you had told the stotic man in that picture that his wife would end up cheating on him twice, he would have glared at you and set you straight on the proper facts of his family.....it almost seemed like a bad joke.

Sweden finally set the picture down and rubbed his eyes before checking the time, it turned out he had been spacing out for about a half hour staring at the picture with an only half full bag packed on the bed. He had to finish packing soon and get out of there before Finland got back. Sweden looked at the picture one more time before placing it picture down on top of the mantle and inside choosing a smaller picture of his son to put in the bag.

Sweden had his clothing put anyway in the bag mostly, except for his favorite pair of pants that he couldn't seem to find. Sweden seemed in a daze, only focusing on bringing what he would need, but what Finland would also be okay with him taking. He stopped about halfway up the staircase to see that one of the pegs had become a bit crooked, the hole having been worn down from years of winters and summers in cycles had worn it away. It was one of the oldest parts left in the house, that staircase. It always made hims smile a bit to see that at least that which he had built had endured so long...but now like everything else it too was coming undone. Sweden, had he really, spent all this time building a house, a family, a life just to have it fall apart too?

Once again Sweden's numerous questions returned about what had happened. Was it that he wasn't good enough? Had he scared the smaller man away into Denmark? He knew that he sometimes accidently scared the other, but those times were almost nonexistant now. It had to have been something...was he not attentive enough? Had Sweden become too complacent thinking that everything was fine as it was that he ignored the other? Sweden didn't want to think he did, but why else...? Sweden shook his head quickly to try to rid himself of the thoughts. Now was not the time, the bag was almost packed, it was time to leave...and hope that maybe that picture could one day be true again.

((I see no disappointment anywhere in like a 1000-mile radius))

Slowly sipping on the coffee he felt as if the world around him had stopped. Half of his brain just wanted to let go again, and cry over Sweden for all he had, when the other half just knew there was no use and he only had himself to blame. And the worst with that part was that it knew this was in some wicked way something he himself wanted.

He knew that, no matter what now, things would never be completely the same with Sweden ever again. He'd betrayed Sweden's trust twice already, he couldn't expect Sweden to give him back that trust again. Asking for that would be unfair, so egoistic. Egoistic. Exactly what he'd been this whole time. He'd known exactly how much it would hurt Sweden, but for some reason he just couldn't keep his hands away.

Denmark had given him adventure, excitement. Everything he'd needed. It had been fun and casual at first but slowly it had gotten just easier and easier to give in. And in the end he'd found himself addicted to it. Addicted to Denmark. To how funny he was. To how he showed all of his emotions so bluntly all the time. To how he looked at him. To how he knew exactly how to make him react. To how incredible he made him feel. To how wonderful the whole man was.
Somewhere along the way that addiction turned into love. Love.
And still his love for Sweden never disappeared or even got weaker.
He was such a freak. Such an egoistic freak.

When the cup was finally empty he looked up for the first time, his eyes hitting a familiar form right there at the desk just a couple of tables away. And that familiar form had a familiar face, staring right at him.

"0h... Ma-Matthias..."

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sweden, this is for you;
On Nordic Street - a Soap Opera about a cold place --Episode XX 1266199872844

On Nordic Street - a Soap Opera about a cold place --Episode XX 1266199872844

Last edited by Denmark on Wed Mar 24, 2010 4:10 am; edited 1 time in total

((sweden that was awesomer that 50 per cen off at ikea, i swear))

Ordering another mug of coffee, Denmark walked over with two steaming hot baverages in his hand, placing one in front of Tino.
'Yer shouldn't be drinking once it goes cold' he said casually, oddly, feeling as if all that weight that had been heavy of his shoulders like chains made out of pure lead, was lifted by seeing Finland and not added as he had expected 'the caffeine goes all funny or something' he frowned, trying to remember a rather lengthy (and surprisingly passionate, really) lecture about coffee Norge bestowed upon him once (and Denmark listened intently, partly because it was the most he had ever heard Norway speak at one time) 'well, anyway it's bad for you somehow, that's all I know' he declared with a grin, taking a chair in front of Finland.

He knew he probably shouldn't even come anywhere near Finland's vicinity. Not after the last time. Not today, not ever, his foot should never even set foot in Helsinki again, hell no. And yet, it seemed, it was impossible for him to just simple keep the fuck away. He felt as if he was little planetoid, just drifting up there in the universe, minding its own business, not doing anyone any harm, until it fell into an orbit of something magnificent and enormous and with too strong a hold to even harbour a glimmer of hope of getting out. To make things even worse, Denmark wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted out. Actually, he was pretty certain of the opposite and he felt like stabbing himself with the nearby fork for it. What the hell had he been thinking all this time? Coming between them like that?

For all the pure intentions he had, of just doing something for Finland, and Finland only-and fair enough, that something did happen to include some absolutely brilliant sex (even Denmark did not expect that), explicitly pornographic dreams aside, but sex had always been the only thing he was really good at,even Norge admitted it once or twice( which as far as Norge went counted as praising Denmark to the very heavens)- it should have occured to him that it would take a horribly, horribly wrong turn. It wasn't even that he was unbelievably daft with relationships (though that sure helped), his and Norway's marriage and post-marital tempestous romance needing jelaousy like fire needs fuel, but that he could not put an end to it when he should have.

Originally, Denmark had planned on just a couple casual one-night-stands, maybe taking Finland out somewhere exciting, adding some spontaneity to his housewife life. Three, maybe four times no more. But each time he found himself postponing the moment of their final break up, promising himself that next time---next time, he won't answer his phone or won't take Finland's hand when they're walking close to each-other. But somehow the borderline between casual and hot-panting-earth-Coleridgy-sort of intense blurred without him noticing and here he was, even now, despite all the misery he had already caused, craving it again. Finland was just...so easy to talk to, so easy to touch and within those weeks (or were they months?) Denmark felt so loved like he had never been loved before, where he did not need to grovel for affection like a stray mongrel, where he could outstretch his hand and there was Fin, all warmth and laughter.

'Fin, look--' he started, a bit awkwardly. 'It's alright...if yer dun wanna see me again'

((sorry it's crap and probably with loads of mistakes but they're closing just nowwwww))

Guest

So, Norway has seen what he was supposed to see. It was all that he needed to see to realize the havoc that oozed from this situation. It irked him that such a thing has happened behind his back and that he let this one easily slide. Eirik isn't the type of person to reveal his feelings to people - no, never has he shown his true shade to anyone. Perhaps a hint here and there. Suppose, the only real, genuine feeling is of what is produced during sex. The gasps and choking, the groans and the smell of sweat is a constant feature of his. Besides that, even a smirk has lost its value.

Now this. God knows that Eirik has a temper that can send mountains tumbling down. Yet, he could not muster the strength to actually get mad enough to shake tears. Indeed, he was shocked, but he felt nothing after many days of cogitation. Cheated on - yes, karma has its way of coming around. Composed as always, he remained unwavering to those unecessary feelings, yet he was still angered with a little of something else (he could not identify this feeling). Perhaps he knew that it would be inevitable. He has a reputation, after all.

He then decided to visit the household of Sweden and Finland. One thing he loathes the most is for him to be in the dark, oblivious to the situation. That was the fuel to his indignation - he could not comprehend the circumstances that lead to its current being. He would go to Denmark, but he felt that he needed not to see him. No, it is too early to see him.

Calmly, he knocked on Sweden's door - the door he was very familiar with quite a few years ago. He hoped to see him and his situation. They are the victims, after all, left to pick up the broken glass of something so unexpected without a choice but to allow themselves to bleed.

(kasdjl. lame compared to you guys. i apologize. )

Guest

(No problem, believe me, I doubt I'll be able to keep the length up)

"That should do it..." Sweden said as he gave the wrench one last firm tug to stop the drip of the facuet above. He had kept on saying how it should be fixed, when he and Finland had first noticed that dripping sound. Now that it was fixed, it was rather odd how quiet the house was. There wasn't any sound at all, no leaky faucet anymore, no child's laughter coming from inside the house with the barking of a dog following after....no one to welcome home, or tell him to come back safe when he went to leave. This supreme lack of noise was almost deafing in a way, as if it was mocking him of what he lost. No, Sweden supposed, it really wasn't a mocking silence...it was just....empty. Almost kind of pathetic, like a bathtub that was just used, with the steam and water still running down the sides, but empty looking and sad just waiting to dry.

Sweden knew, though he didn't want to admit it, that he was stalling. This was apparent by the fact that he had no reason to be in the kitchen right then, fixing a sink that he wouldn't see again in how long, nor did he need to start thinking in metaphors, especially ones that only seemed to relate to fixtures...maybe he was spending too much time at IKEA...

Sweden wistifully shook his head one last time before heading out to the front of the living room where the few bags he had decided to take were waiting for him. Part of Sweden wanted to really just take the bags and run them back into the room to unpack them, run out to buy some flowers, and try to call the whole thing off. Ask Finland if they could try again...but... that wasn't how it should or would be. Finland and him...it seems had to take a long hard look at their lives...This was a foundation problem, not something that you could just throw some plaster over and....and he REALLY needed to stop with those metaphors...or were they similes...nevermind. Sweden just really didn't want to leave...it was one thing to say that he was going to, to pack the bags, but it was another to actually leave. It just would feel so....final. Sweden knew that once he walked out that door with his bags there was a good chance that he wouldn't ever walk back through them...and he wasn't sure...no he knew that wasn't what he wanted.

But him not wanting something never kept it at bay. He hadn't wanted a lot of what happened during his life to happen, but it had all the same. He hadn't of wanted to lose Finland to Russia, but he did. He hadn't of wanted Finland to be unhappy to be his wife, but he was....that was just how things were, and he had to accept it, no matter how painful.

Sweden was pulled out of his own thoughts long enough to dimly hear a knocking at the door. It took a moment for Sweden to recogize the sound, and then another to actually go to the door and open it. Sweden was a bit suprised to see Norway standing there in the doorway, though a part of his brain said that he shouldn't be, after all Denmark had cheated on Norway too. Sweden just really hadn't thought about it from the other nation's view because well, it was Denmark, it really wasn't that uncommon. Sweden nodded his head in greeting to Norway and opened the door a bit wider while stepping back to allow the other entry into the house. "How're you?" he asked.

Finland sighed and looked down again, now at a new cup of coffee. One more to work his way through, something that had never been so hard before. Coffee was supposed to be the saviour, always there for you. But not now. And that was something very rare for Finland.

"Ahh, it's... no don't, that's not..." Another sigh followed. It was as if no words would like to exit his mouth. His head was filled with thoughts, even the deepest tiniest corner was brooding on this chaos, but still, nothing could be made into normal speech.

He spent a few more seconds staring at the cup of coffee, working on forming a coherent sentence. Or just something that would at least make a little sense. But, Denmark, the man he'd been longing for and cheating on his husband with all this time was right in front of him. The man who was the reason behind all this pain, but also the man who was the reason Tino has ever gotten to consider another life.
A life that was now so tempting, and was in a way right there in front of him. He could just easily reach out, take Denmark's hand, walk out of the Café and find himself in another world. Like in a dream.

But then he would leave every chance he could ever have with Sweden behind. And that was the part that was far from easy. Sweden... was his everything.

"I... I do want to see you" he finally managed to say. At least that was true, he wasn't lying. But then again, Denmark wasn't the one he'd been lying to lately either. That was Sweden... his husband.
"Just, yeah, please, sit here I, I'd prefer not to be.. alone.." The words were mumbled and his eyes were still stuck on that poor innocent cup of coffee.

Alone.

Guest

"Fine." Norway responded listlessly as he walked in. It was his nature to remain lackadaisical in most situations; he made a pact with himself to stand like steel. Though, he did feel a bit distressed. That idiot beat him - Denmark. If anything, he wanted to hurt him, not the other way around... It was an unexpected turn of events. He was just bitter that he was the loser, seething through unmentioned words. "Sorry that I came at such a bad time." He eyed the living room and flicked a glance at the bags on the floor.

It was a bad time for both of them. Norway saw the look in Sweden's eyes - they were swollen, beguiled, uncertain. To think Finland would do such a thing still bewildered him. No, it must have been the oaf. Personally he knew Denmark is capable of enticing, stealing, grasping. Those insipid kisses. He loathed it.

"Before you leave," he folded his arms, "I want to know... what you know, if you may." An exhale, "I'm not well informed about this fiasco, even though I'm well-aware that I'm a part of it." He grimaced off as a point of his annoyance over this whole situation.

This wpuld hurt Sweden. To explain it over. It would also hurt himself, but he was a masochist for a reason, right? It was a fair time to start paying attention again to the world he had once so much hated. Norway set himself up in his own trap, closed in on a little space. Then someone pried open his walls and showered him with words he wished he didn't have to hear. They were words he had never anticipated or predicted. It was the shock that bugged him.

"We're in the same situation, Sweden." He continued as he leaned on the wall, "Except I know nothing."

Normally he would go out to seek the information himself. He didn't care how it would be achieved - with a bloody fist, with a broken jaw or anything because it would not matter. Courage cowered in his showers. He couldn't face it. It was foulplay.

He had never had issues with words. Unlike his siblings, he meant his 'proper' ones not adopted little whelps like Finland (at least that was how he used to think about Finland back when they were younger and Denmark was high on hormones and driven by his untamable lust for conquest and moremoremoremore), whatever was in Denmark heart was also on his mouth. But now he just felt so overwhelmingly confused that no coherent sentence could make its way out once he opened his mouth. Because what was there to say? I hope you and Sverige work it out and hey, make me a god father of your future ass babies? Nah, he didn't think so, was he supposed just saunter in like the bad kid around town in those movies from the 50s and announce that hey babe, you're better off with me anyway. Which wasn't even true, because Denmark couldn't take proper care of himself or even his cat (come to think of it...he wondered where that one went off), let alone another nation.

'Look, it's okay, really' he said feeling a little embarrassed, taking a sip of his coffee to have something to do with his hands, licking the foam of his upper lip expertly. 'I mean...hell, with all that came down, I wouldn't want to see me either'
He shook his head a little, the ends of his absurdly untamable hair bouncing a little with the movement as if each was giving a tiny little headshake of its own.
'I'm really sorry for forcing this all on ya, Fin, you know it. I..I had no idea what I was thinking...I sort y'know...figure you could do with a bit of fun, since yer ken Sweden and all. He's good to joke around with and stuff but he doesn't really you know...take erm...part and I eh thought I'd ah I dunno...help you chill about and erm...stuff' in Danish chilling out was yet another word for screwing you brain out and back on, but Denmark bit his lip instead. He'd let Finland float in the innocent world of Denmark's smooth talking.

The funny part was that it wasn't the first conversation of that kind Denmark had had. Ironically however, as it came to taunt him like a twisted mirror image, this time not merely repeating a pattern to discard a lover he grew bored with. He just felt it was something that needed to be said, even though his heart clenched. It was all for Finland and about Finland and Denmark was pretty sure that his place was nowehere near this equation.

He took another gulp of his coffee, the baverage burning his throat with reverence.

And he almost choked as Finland started to speak.
He blinked, looking straight at him in a bemused sort of fashion like a deer cought in long lights. Denmark frowned. And then frowned some more, believing that he must have, indeed, gone prematuredly deaf or something because this could not be coming from Finland's mouth.
'You..what?' he blurted out before he could stop himself. 'Finland you can't be fucking serious.'

Ah. Alone.
Denmark could symphatize. If he could at least help make it all easier for the younger man, then well, he'd do everything in his might to help.

Guest

" "Sorry that I came at such a bad time." He eyed the living room and flicked a glance at the bags on the floor.

Sweden saw where Norway was looking and one of his hands came up to rest against the back of his head. That's right, the bags were still waiting there in the living room for him to pick them back up and leave hi--the house. He simply shrugged and said "Can't be helped."

"Before you leave," he folded his arms, "I want to know... what you know, if you may."

Sweden looked up a little surprised. That was right, this did involve Norway a bit...and whatever his relationship with Denmark is/was. Sweden hadn't even thought what the other had been going through, or even if Denmark had told him anything about what was happening. Though it was pretty easy to believe that Denmark hadn't told anything to the other nation, it seemed like him to do something like that. These thoughts of Denmark had angered Sweden as he was once brought back again to the fall of his marriage and his fists tightened in response before Sweden took a deep breath and forced them to loosen knowing that anger wouldn't get him anywhere at this point.

He didn't want to think about what had happened, but Norway had as much right to know as them what was going on. Sweden sighed again and his eyes darted around the room as his mind looked for what would be a good place to start explaining the mess their lives had become.

"Don't have all the details..."Sweden begun, not that he had really wanted to know everything about the affair they had had. "But....I know Finland began seeing Denmark....caught them once...together...Then they said they would stop...but didn't. And now, Finland and I are going to be apart....Till things get cleared up."

Sweden knew that it probably didn't have all the detail the other wanted, but he had never been a man of many words, and he really couldn't stand more than to give a small overview of the events that unfolded right now.

Finlands eyes grew a little bigger at Denmarks comment before they looked down into the coffee mug again. Maybe he was crazy. Yeah, he probably was. Sighing for what felt like the thousandt time that day already he took a sip of the coffee. Crazy - yeah, that was a good word to describe this whole situation and how he was acting.

The image of Sweden packing his things and leaving their house was stuck in his mind. And he knew that it was happening, Sweden was a man of his words. Unlike Finland, clearly. If Sweden said he'd leave the house, he would do it. And there was really nothing Tino could do about it. It wasn't like he didn't think of just running home and hug and kiss Sweden and ask for forgiveness and promise to be his forever and never do anything like this again. But he knew it would never work. Maybe Sweden would say it's all okay, maybe he would take him back. But nothing would change. Tino would still have feelings for Denmark too and... He didn't trust himself well enough to not hurt Sweden again.
Maybe it would be better like this. Maybe.

But what was "like this"? A life with Denmark? Was it even possible? Would Denmark even want that? Tino had no idea. It had never been anything like that. It was always supposed to be what they did in secret. Something small and exciting. But that train had left its tracks long ago and he didn't know if even Denmark knew where it was running to. And seeing Tino with Mathias would probably hurt Sweden even more. Finland felt so lost. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

"I..It's-- it's all over isn't it...? What should I... what should I do? I-- I don't..."
The words were cut short as he hid his face in his arms, leaning on the table in front of him. It was too hard to stop the tears, no matter how much he hated showing himself crying in front of Denmark. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing really mattered.
So he just cried.

Guest

Norway stared at Sweden's face for a few seconds as he explained. As his explanation dove in deeper, he diverted his gaze passed the Swede's head, avoiding his eyes. He nodded once. As he suspected. All he wanted was confirmation and that was it. "Sorry that you had to explain that." He muttered, imagining how painful it might have been to retell the story of deciet. Frankly, Norway didn't know what to think and how to react. Anything besides silent anger and a placid expression would be considered an anamoly.

He was mute for another moment as he stared at the ceiling. "And," he said in a tired exhale, "apologies for the mischief Denmark caused." Yet half-hearted words probably had no place in the household. Perhaps such words of the same essence has been repeated so often that it is truism. Apologies probably lost its value after a few centuries of using it as an excuse.

He didn't know if he had the potential to comfort Sweden. It was ironic that both men, who are both listless as a blank sheet, are the ones at victim.

Awright. Can I smoke in here?

Well, Denmark doubted that seriously, all those law against fumigating one's sorrows indoors really came up in his face at this very moment. Not that he smoked nowadays, not really, health and well-being and all, but no-one really minded a fag or two every so often right? God only knew Margrethe, his beloved queen, still smoked like a freakin' chimney, so it was only fair her golden boy (well, he haven't exactly done anything particularly impressive to deserve that status in the recent years, but oh well, maybe he was getting old) did from time to time, he always liked the alluring trail of blueish smoke, like something leading to a dragon's den, reminding him of the times when they still believed in those things.

More importantly though, apart from a much needed shot of lung-cancer-inducing substances it gave you something to do with your hands. Something that Denmark could do with at the present moment. All that was left for him was staring somewhat humbly and un-Danish-like into his mug, circling it around in his fingers like a wobbly doorknob. He could not even comprehend how it all had gotten to this, from one moment of bliss to this... this whirpool of guilt he was now spinning in.

How could he have thought that all this was gonna last? Well, he didn't exactly think, about anything really, but he hoped it was. Because he felt the loss of it, once it had been decided it was done. And Denmark have once again destroyed everything he cared for, and he did care about Finland, Sealand and even, Sweden, because hell, they fought like dogs, but he was his little brother and at the end of the day that was what counted. He hurt Norge, for christssake. Denmark couldn't even bring himself to consider that one just yet, having a tiny of glimmer of hope that it would work itself out just like their other little incidents in the past, they'd fight, they'd fight, they'd fight and they'd fuck and finally they'd reach something resembling a non-agression pact, Norge would sulk for a bit, screw him some more, just on principle and then they'd fall back in their supposedly loosely knitted bond. At least Mathias hoped it would come to that.

Sipping some more of his coffee, mainly to keep up appearances if nothing else, Denmark turned again to face Tino. And nothing, honestly nothing, could have prepared him for what he was about to witness. He might have gotten a hint, from how the air seemed to have been sucked out entirely from the innocent little cafe, but he was too preoccupied with his internal ranting to notice. And then Finland's face crumbled like a soggy tea biscuit.

Oh fuck

don't cry, please, don't cry, i dunno what to do when people cry.

That was one of the reasons why Denmark was truly atrocious with toddlers. He loved children, he really did, even though they were little creatures that did fuck all and demanded constant gratification (therefore as far as Denmark was concerned, they were competition), but could not handle the stage where they continuously cried for one thing or other. The mere sight of tears made him want to cry himself. In utter helplessness. Sadly, there was no Norge around to shout out for in a very dignified 'aaaaa, he wants you!!' as he used to do when Iceland was wee, not to mention, he doubted Norway would be willing to help him right now anyway. What happened seconds later could only be explained by the seizure of sheer blinding panic.
Breaking his promise of never touching Tino Veinamoinen again approximately after five minuted of firmly making it, before he could explain it to himself he was out of his chair and by the younger nation's side, pulling him into an awkwardly-positioned hug. It would have worked much better had he been able to pull Fin onto his lap, but Denmark reasoned that he had to draw a line somewhere even though he ended up crossing them as soon as they were drawn.
'Fin, don't cry, look, godamnit, I know it's looking pretty bad from where yer standin'' he said with a heavy sigh. 'But we'll fix it, okay? I won't let you get hurt any longer, I promise. You just need to get a grip'

Guest

Sweden shrugged as if trying to pass the whole thing off as if it didn't bother him. Probably just reverting back to his listless face that really revealed nothing about how he felt. "No need for you to apologize Norge. That's just Denmark..." Denmark, the one pretty much always causing problems for the rest of them. Sweden's eyes squinted a bit in anger at thinking about the Dane again.

He just still...couldn't understand why Finland preferred him....afterall, didn't Finland leave with him all those centuries ago? What changed in all that time? Or...it was probably the lack of change, though he had always thought the Danish was more annoying than exciting.

Sweden took a deep breath and held it for a few moments before letting it out. He turned to look Norway in the face with what he hoped to be a blank face not hinting at his underlying emotion that he seriously didn't want to get into again.

Sweden said to Norway "Ah...I don't want to chase you out Norway....but I should...probably get going already....don't want to be left out especially since its still travel season...." Sweden would not want to end up just driving around everywhere not finding a room and then having to pay out the nose for a half decent one.

Vittu. He had no one else to blame than himself and now he was sitting here, crying like some... He didn't even know. But-- how could he not cry? Everything was just... ...falling apart.

He felt a warm arm around him. Denmark must've moved over to his side. Looking bad, yes it sure was looking bad. It was looking... he didn't even know how to describe it in his thoughts. He and Sweden.. they'd always been an item. For almost as long as he could remember. And-- no matter who Denmark was off fucking this time (now it just happened to be him), he'd always had his Norway there. Denmark-- he'd cheated on someone just as much as Finland himself had. But for Denmark... there was probably still something to go back to.

It had all been an adventure, it was never supposed to become anything more. The adventure detsroyed the happy family life Finland had. It had bored him out, but it was still as perfect as it could be. It-- it was his home and his safety. Denmark was an adventure. Denmark wouldn't want anything like Tino had shared with Sweden... Denmark would never be completely his. But he still wanted him so much.

Turning towards the warm man next to him, to hide his face in his shirt and clench his fists around the fabric he found himself mumbling;

"Why why why why did you have to make me fall in love with you"

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