A/N: Kink meme deanon. I can't seem to find the prompt now, but it was something along the lines of "Finland realizes that Sweden can cry, laugh, etc. just like anyone else". Enjoy!

Sweden's intentions had been nothing but innocent when he'd gone into his and Finland's bedroom to clean that late afternoon. He'd merely planned to change the sheets on their bed, sweep, and do a little dusting. Invading his "wife's" privacy had certainly not been on his to-do list. Therefore, when he had been cleaning out from under the bed and stumbled upon a small, brown leather-bound book which he recognized as Finland's personal journal, Sweden had meant to put it in Finland's dresser drawer where it belonged without so much as glancing at the inside cover.

Chance foiled his pure intentions, however, when he accidentally dropped the journal on the floor. The little book fell open, exposing Finland's private thoughts to his wondering eyes. Sweden picked the book up, planning to snap it shut before his curiosity got the better of him, but then a certain word, written in Finland's graceful, slanted letters, caught his attention: "Sve".

Sweden paused, letting his eyes focus on the words on the page. Finland was writing about him in his journal. Sweet, beautiful, lovable Finland, who occupied ninety-seven percent of his thoughts, was writing about him! Sweden didn't know whether to be thrilled or terrified by the prospect. His pure intentions were drowned out by a sudden overpowering need to know what Finland had to say about him. Sweden set aside his broom and sat down on the edge of the bed to read.

It's been about five years since Sve and I built this house together after escaping from Denmark's house. Even thinking back now that a lot of specific details have probably faded from my memory, I remember how hard it was getting used to being alone in such close quarters with Sve.

He was always staring and silent, and I always assumed he was just waiting for an excuse to do something horrible to me. Even when he was kind to me, his eyes remain hard and cold, and I assumed he was trying to lure me into a false sense of security.

I can't even find words to express how trapped I felt in that sort of environment. I wanted more than anything to leave this house and never look back, but the threat of Russia and Denmark kept me where I was. I remember being ill a lot of the time from constant worry and trying so hard to hide it from Sve. I don't know how successful I was, but he almost never said anything so as far as I know, he didn't notice.

Well, it's been five years now and I'm still alive. I am grateful for that, of course, but things are still pretty difficult. You would think that after living together for five years, I would have gotten used to Sve and maybe even started to learn to understand him more. I guess I have, to a small degree, but not as much as I should have.

I still never know what he's thinking and the number of times when I've felt sure that he was planning to murder me horribly are still far too numerous for my liking. I still feel sick a lot from the stress this lifestyle causes me, and it's almost like I've completely forgotten what it's like to feel normal. Hopefully, I'll be able to get my own place soon and finally be able to breathe easily.

Sweden felt as though he'd been punched hard in the chest. He knew that Finland got nervous when he caught Sweden staring at him, so he'd done his best not to do it. Sweden loved Finland, after all, and didn't want to make him uncomfortable, even if it took a tremendous amount of willpower not to watch him all the time. But he had no idea that Finland's fear of him was this bad. He'd done everything in his power to make Finland comfortable in their home, to let him know that he wanted nothing more than to hold and protect him forever, even if he was too shy to express that in words.

Clearly he had failed tremendously. He had made Finland feel scared and trapped and miserable to the point that he'd been sick. Now Sweden felt sick. How could he have been so blind as to not notice all the pain he was causing poor Finland? He was an utter failure as a husband.

Sweden didn't even realize that he was crying until one of his tears fell silently on the back of his hand. He sniffled and lifted his glasses so that he could wipe his eyes on his sleeve, but the tears just wouldn't stop coming. Finland, his beautiful, wonderful wife whom he loved so dearly, hated him and there was nothing he could do about it.

He didn't mean to frighten him and he had done everything he could think of to make himself less intimidating, but it hadn't worked. If he really loved Finland, the kindest thing he could do for him now was to move out, the sooner the better. He should probably start getting his things together right now.

But he couldn't stand. He couldn't move. He couldn't even stop his own tears. Sweden's breath came in ragged gasps, and try as he might to breathe deeply and calm himself, his broken heart was lodged firmly in his throat. The blond took off his glasses and set them aside, lowered his face in his hands and let himself cry.

If someone had told Finland that morning that he would find Sweden crying today, he wouldn't have believed them. The Sweden he knew rarely showed any emotion on his face, other than anger, which made his ability to experience any emotion beyond that purely hypothetical.

Therefore when Finland had entered their bedroom with the basket of laundry he had just brought in from the clothesline to find Sweden sitting on the bed, hunched over, face in hands, his shoulders shaking in a way that could only indicate tears, Finland's immediate thought was that he was hallucinating.

Finland was so dumbfounded that all he could do for a good thirty seconds or so was stare in disbelief. This had to be a dream. It had to be. Finland shifted the basket in his arms and pinched his own side, willing himself to wake from it. The pinch hurt, but accomplished little else. Apparently this wasn't a dream.

Finland's chest was filled with a strange sensation at this realization. It was kind of sad and confused, but somehow warm at the same time. It almost felt sort of… affectionate? Was that the right word? Finland's cheeks warmed at the thought, but now was not the time to dwell on that. He needed to find out what was wrong with Sweden.

"S-Sve…? Is… is everything alright?" he asked timidly.

Sweden jumped so violently at the sound of Finland's voice that it made Finland jump as well.

"Fin…! S-s'rry… I was cleanin' 'n' it fell op'n on th' floor 'n' I saw m' name … S'rry!"

This situation was getting more and more surreal. Finland had never seen Sweden so openly flustered before. His housemate still hadn't turned to face him, but even so, Finland could see that he was blushing all the way to the tips of his ears and the back of his neck as he wiped his eyes hastily. Finland would have felt sorrier for Sweden if he hadn't been so puzzled. Why on earth was Sweden apologizing?

Curiously, Finland set down his laundry basket and crossed the room to sit on the bed beside Sweden. Sweden sniffled and turned away from him, still wiping shakily at his eyes. Finland extended hesitant, petite fingers toward Sweden, wondering if it would be ok to pat him on the shoulder. He grazed Sweden lightly with his fingertips, testing the waters. It seemed that Sweden wasn't expecting that gentle, tentative touch because he jolted again.

Sweden's jerk was followed by a soft thud as a book fell from the edge of the bed beside him and landed on the floor. Finland stared at it, his eyes widening slowly with horror and recognition. One of his old journals, one he thought he'd lost… Was that why Sweden was apologizing? Oh god, Sweden had read his innermost thoughts, and…

Finland's mind slowed as a strange thought hit him, distracting him from the terrible realization that the contents of his journal were no longer private. Sweden was crying and he had admitted to having read the journal. What if something Finland had written had caused his tears? Finland bent hesitantly and picked up the little leather book, staring down at the page that it had landed open on. It was an entry he had written about a year and a half ago.

He was always staring and silent, and I always assumed he was just waiting for an excuse to do something horrible to me. Even when he was kind to me, his eyes remain hard and cold, and I assumed he was trying to lure me into a false sense of security…

I still never know what he's thinking and the number of times when I've felt sure that he was planning to murder me horribly are still far too numerous for my liking. I still feel sick a lot from the stress this lifestyle causes me, and it's almost like I've completely forgotten what it's like to feel normal. Hopefully, I'll be able to get my own place soon and finally be able to breathe easily.

Finland winced. Those were certainly harsh words. No wonder Sweden was hurt by them. Aside from the rather intense look in Sweden's eyes, the somber set of his mouth and the way he seemed to prefer to listen rather than speak, Finland had never had any reason to think that Sweden would ever harm him. His housemate sniffled again wetly.

"S'rry… Didn' mean t' scare y' s' bad," Sweden mumbled, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. "J'st couldn' help wantin' t' look atcha all th' time… C-care 'boutcha a lot…"

Finland's cheeks warmed and his heart clenched even tighter. He felt terrible. How could he have written those things about Sweden? Granted, he'd never thought Sweden might read those words when he'd recorded them, but it felt as though he had just slapped the face of a man who had never been anything but kind to him.

"Oh, please don't apologize, Sve," Finland implored him softly. "I know you didn't mean to scare me. Gosh, I feel terrible about this… "

Sweden wanted to assure Finland that he had nothing to be sorry about. He'd only been writing what he'd genuinely felt, what he thought Sweden would kill or hurt him for saying out loud. But Sweden's throat was too tight, more tears rolled down his cheeks and pattered silently on his jeans, and he couldn't say a word.

"Oh, b-but look! This entry is pretty old! See, from a whole year and a half ago! My feelings for you…" Finland paused and swallowed hard, his already warm cheeks heating up even further as he realized just how that had sounded, "…um, well, they're very different now."

Sweden turned his head to look at Finland at last. Finland felt his heart breaking for Sweden all over again at the sight of the usually impassive face now red from crying and embarrassment, aquamarine eyes watery, cheeks streaked with tears. Finland reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and began to dab gently at Sweden's eyes and cheeks, cupping his chin as he worked. Sweden's blush deepened but he didn't pull away. Finland didn't often touch him so bravely and for such an extended period of time.

"…R'lly?" Sweden croaked.

"Yes, I… once I got tired of being afraid all the time, my mind became clear and I started to realize that I had no reason to be scared of you," Finland said quietly, stroking Sweden's cheek with his thumb. A tiny smile began to tug at Finland's lips. "You're always so kind to me, and you're always doing your best to take care of me… And I… well, I started thinking things like 'I'm glad Sve was the one I ran away with'… 'I'm so lucky to have Sve'…"

These words, combined with Finland's gentle touch and closeness, and that soft, affectionate smile made Sweden's heart expand so rapidly that he almost feared it might burst. A new wave of tears came, silent but numerous, though for an entirely different reason than his previous ones.

Finland was startled by them and his face fell, thinking he had somehow said the wrong thing.

"Oh, no… I said something strange, didn't I…? I'm sorry, Sve, please don't cry anymore!"

But Sweden hardly heard him. He was too busy sweeping Finland into his arms and burying his face in Finland's shoulder. Finland stiffened and gasped in surprise, but made no move to pull away. Sweden swallowed hard; his initial impulse had been to kiss Finland but he'd caught himself just in time. Even if Finland had started to like him, that didn't necessarily mean that he would be ok with Sweden kissing him.

Finland's arms curled around him slowly, returning Sweden's embrace, still having a hard time believing that this was really happening. He had never seen Sweden so emotional. Not that Finland minded; it was nice to have some outward indication of how Sweden was feeling for once rather than having to take a wild guess. Besides that, it actually felt pretty good to be held by him.

Finland could tell that his face was red, but he didn't mind; Sweden's arms were so warm and strong and reassuring, even though Finland was occupying the role of comforter at this moment. He wondered if he could take this to mean that his words had made Sweden happy.

For a long time, the two of them sat quietly, simply holding each other. Finland stroked Sweden's hair soothingly, even when he could no longer feel new tears wetting his shoulder. Sweden could feel himself starting to calm down. He let his lips linger tentatively millimeters from the base of Finland's throat. If Finland moved at all, Sweden's lips would brush his skin and it wouldn't be Sweden's fault. So far he had managed to touch his lips to Finland's neck six times without any sort of negative reaction.

"Feeling better, Sve?" Finland whispered eventually, still stroking his hair.

Sweden sniffled. "Head hurts," he mumbled. It was throbbing a bit; he couldn't remember the last time he'd cried.

Finland placed an absentminded kiss on the top of Sweden's head, much to the taller blond's delight, before crawling out of Sweden's lap and onto the bed, pulling Sweden down with him as he laid back. Sweden pulled him close again, resting his head on Finland's chest, and let his eyes flutter closed.

Finland went back to stroking Sweden's hair thoughtfully. He wanted to thank Sweden for sharing this this sensitive, vulnerable part of himself with him. The fact that he'd never been able to tell what Sweden was feeling or thinking was what had made him so terrifying to Finland in the early days of their relationship. Now that he had been allowed to witness this outpour of emotion, of which he had initially thought Sweden incapable, it made Sweden seem less like a giant robot and more like a human being.

But Finland couldn't think of a way to express this sentiment without being potentially offensive, so he opted to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he began to hum quietly, allowing a soft smile to tug at the corners of his lips as he felt Sweden's eyelashes flutter sleepily against his skin.

"L've ya, Fin," Sweden breathed before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?" Finland glanced down at the top of his head. "What did you say, Sve?"

Sweden sighed, partially relieved, partially disappointed that Finland hadn't heard him. He supposed that there were better times to confess his feelings to Finland than when he'd just spent who knew how long crying on his shoulder so humiliatingly.

"Hn… Nothin'."

One day he would tell him. One day.