Author's Notes: Okay, so, this was written (as is most of what I write) for a prompt on the kink meme, namely "I really want to see a fic where one of the Nordics attemps to commit suicide. Whether or not they suceed is up to the author, but what I want to see is the effect it has on the rest of the "family"."
He's the one holding the rest of them together. Everyone knows it.
It's not fair, he thinks as he boils stock, waits for the rest of them to get back. He's been making all their dinners lately. He's hardly the best cook among them, but he's also the only one willing to leave the hospital at anything resembling a reasonable hour.
He doesn't know how to feel. He doesn't know how he'd express what he does feel – he's sad, he's angry, he's lonely, he's guilty, he's overworked; he's in so much fucking pain right now because this man he does love, does treat like a brother, tried to kill himself and if he doesn't come out of this coma soon he might well succeed.
He doesn't... he can't express those feelings. So instead, he tries to keep the house functioning and take care of the rest of them and remain as unobtrusive and inoffensive (and non-jealous) as possible as the rest of them revel in the misery.
It's not working, if the amount he's been screamed at is any indication. Dammit Norway! He could die; you could at least try acting like you care!
He swallows and collects the meat and vegetables, puts them in the pot. That should be fine for another hour or so... in which he'll need to find something to do. He suddenly realises just how lonely the house can get; it was always meant to be a house for many.
Okay, maybe he's not completely alone. Hannatamago barks sadly around his legs. "...I didn't feed you, did I?"
He pulls out a can of dog food, gets a spoon and scoops it into the bowl. Hannatamago chows down happily. Well, he can't be that miserable.
Norway sighs and attempts to nurse his headache. He doesn't even have Denmark to blame it on right now. Try and act like you care!
"I'm trying," he mutters where nobody but the dog can hear him.
He's being unfair on Norway. And, uh, everyone.
He knows this. He's always been absolute shit at dealing with the horrible stuff, and this is no exception. He remembers he couldn't go to the hospital with them that first night. He couldn't move fast enough 'cause he kept wanting to be sick; he joined them all hours later, feeling guilty as fuck.
Really, he's got the least right to be so messed up by this.
Still, he waits religiously by that hospital room, waiting for a sign it's gonna be okay. Is he trying to make up for his late entrance? Maybe. All he knows is that he can't fucking sleep anywhere else; he's too terrified that while he's not looking, it'll all...
Norway brings him sandwiches in tupperware. "You look terrible," he says, blank as ever.
"Thanks," Denmark mutters, sighing as he takes the sandwiches. "So, what're things like in the actually-leaving-this-place part of our lives?"
"...Quiet," he says. Denmark knows he shouldn't get annoyed with Norway for being all stoic and crap; it's Norway, that's what he does. Especially when something big goes down. Norway's the only one even vaguely keeping it together, so he should be grateful.
"Hey, look, Norge," he says. "Uh... Just wanted to say... I'm sorry about, y'know, screaming at you before. I didn't mean that. Of course you care; I mean, you're the one actually making us all..." he cuts off with a sigh. "Just, sorry. I lashed out. You know me; always so fucking emotional–"
"It's okay," Norway says flatly.
"We're all in emotional distress. And you've never been good with this anyway. It doesn't surprise me, and I don't mind." There's a brief pause, and Norway's voice falters. "Better you take it out on me, than yourself."
"...Norge are you alright?"
Norway doesn't answer, instead turning to look at the man in front of him. "So, what do you think about him?"
Denmark's struck by how bitter his thoughts sound. He can't stop them though. Yeah, you. You in coma, fuck you. How could you do this? You know how much we need you, man, you have to; it's not fair because how wee we meant to tell there was anything fucking wrong, why didn't you say something so we could help, but no you decided this was the best plan you arrogant piece of–
Denmark finally gets the thoughts back under control. Yeah, blaming him is not going to help. He knows he can't really do that anyway; he's just... lashing out. Again.
Fuck he's shit at dealing with this stuff.
He sighs. "I'm worried? It's what we all fuckin' are."
Norway sighs and leans in, resting his head on Denmark's shoulder. "Indeed."
He doesn't understand this.
Well, the exact events he understands. He's not in the dark about what happened; he's not that young. But he just... everything's falling apart and no-one knows what to do and he wants to help, but he can't, can he?
Norway's taking care of everyone. Iceland's not sure how to feel about that; he knows Norway shouldn't overwork himself, when he's handling this as bad as anyone, but Norway would never listen to him if he said that and working is how Norway handles stress, anyway (that or hitting Denmark, which he has rather held back on). It's... probably kind of selfish, but he likes someone taking care of things. Makes him feel a little less lost. Oh god, that's really selfish, isn't it?
Somehow, it's become chiefly his responsibility to take care of Sealand. Mostly due to the age thing, those Iceland doesn't know why that'd help. Still, it's not like the boy's fathers can do it, what with one barely functioning and one being... The kid is annoying, but Iceland takes pity on him. Sealand's even more confused by all this than Ice is.
"It's not fair," Sealand pouts, looking on the edge of tears again. "It's not. This shouldn't be – he's not the sort of person who does this..."
"Is there a type for that?" he asks. Sealand seems confused.
"It – it's wrong. I'm going to wake up soon and this'll all be some stupid nightmare and I'll, like, freak out about what that says about my brain and probably Austria will show up and start analysing stuff and everyone will get very annoyed and–"
He's crying now. Iceland winces and hands him a tissue. "Here."
Sealand gives him a weird look. "...You're a lot like Norway, y'know?"
"Huh? What, how?"
He shrugs. "All the not-emotion-ness. And the taking care of everybody anyway. I dunno."
"...Oh." He mulls this over for a few seconds. "I guess that's a compliment."
"...Yeah?" there's another awkward pause. Iceland finds himself staring out the window, not think any thoughts in particular. "Iceland?"
He doesn't respond. Follows the snow falling outside with his eyes. Norway's still at home, taking care of the house and probably freezing half to death (Iceland's noticed somewhat of an increase in the frequency of Norway's sudden 'big brother' attacks when it's really cold). He hopes the power doesn't go out, or Norway gets snowed in, or something.
"Iceland, are you still there?"
That's not what he should be focusing on. Norway will be fine; he's here to worry about... He doesn't know what's going on, but he thinks he should be here for it.
And then, there's Sealand.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah," he says, a little embarrassed. "...I was meant to get you something to eat, wasn't I?"
Sealand hesitates. "I'm not that hungry," he says, sighing. His stomach grumbles loudly. "...I'm just sick of people worrying about me, you know? I mean, I'm not the one who... I barely even get what's going on; why are people feeling sorry for me?"
"...Oh." Iceland resists the urge to bury his head in his hands.
So apparently, that's not what he's meant to do either.
It's not like this has never happened before. Most of the time, they just ignore him. This time, it actually matters.
"You have to let me see him," he says.
They all seem a little confused. "They said –"
"Family. I'm his family. You're all just..." their eyes narrow at him, and he realises what a stupid thing that was to say. "...No, that's not what I mean, just – you can't shut me out, okay?"
(His phone vibrates furtively in his pocket. Hungary's been trying to call him all day. He has to answer her eventually, but not yet. When he starts thinking about their childhood, then he's just being pessimistic.)
"...He's your best friend, isn't he?" Iceland asks. He nods.
"Ya love 'im," Denmark points out.
Norway says nothing.
"What is this, an interrogation?" he asks. "I shouldn't have to justify myself to you; you already know! Let me see him already!"
He's not a Nordic. God knows he's always said he is, but no-one ever listens to him. He's not... like the rest of them; he's still trying to build himself up. Fucking Russia. None of that matters now. Now, he just needs to see his best friend.
There's an awkward pause. "...Please," he says. "You don't understand. For a long time, he was – the only person I really had. I can't not see him."
"...'Stonia," says Sweden, eyes as deadly as ever.
"I'm not scared of you, you know. You – all of you – don't have any more right to see him than me."
Suddenly, Norway grabs his hand marches him up to the counter. "This is our other brother; he just got in from overseas," he says. Estonia blinks. "He wants to see Timo."
"...I see," says the receptionist, a little perturbed. "Well, he can go in."
Norway nods brusquely and starts dragging Estonia along the corridor. Estonia sighs and closes his eyes.
He's not ready to see this, really. Still, he has to.
He spends the most time in the room. Makes sense, he supposes.
"...hey," he says, looking down at the body filled with tubes and hooked up to machines. He wants to be sick.
Fin had to wait until Sweden was away on business to do it. Apparently they only found out because Sealand had a nightmare and couldn't wake Finland up when he went for comfort (and Sweden suddenly feels so guilty about the times he's thought Sealand's too old to do that).
Norway's told him about finding Fin, all pale and still and barely breathing, empty bottle of sleeping pills by the bed – Sweden's not sure if he's glad he wasn't there or not. He doesn't have that sight haunting his mind every moment, but he has a million others he's created from the given resources.
Besides. There's still this.
"Fin." He takes his wife's hand in his, softly kisses his fingers. Fin's hands are small and gentle. Still, he was somehow always the one who took care of things – everyone else would be about to kill each other, and with a cheery smile Fin would come in and somehow fix everything. Sweden once asked him if he'd secretly stolen Norway's magic will Norway was distracted. Fin laughed. "Maybe," he'd said, giggling as he kissed Sweden on the nose.
...Is this their fault?
He knows that doesn't make sense. Fin loves them. But they... They're idiots. He keeps feeling like somehow, they have to have caused this; they put too much stress on him or something. Why didn't Fin say anything? They'd have helped. They love him.
"Fin." He winds his fingers with Finland's, raises their hands to his lips. Kisses again. "M' wif'."
...Is this his fault?
He doesn't think he's a very good husband. He's scary, as always, though Fin seems to be used to him by now. He knows Finland doesn't like being called his wife, for one thing. He does it anyway. It started with a lot of reasons, but now... he just did it because it was cute. Did Fin mind that much? He could've said something, and Sweden would have stopped. Or is he just that scary?
Stop it. You're being paranoid; you know that can't be it.
It's not it. But there's no real reason all that can't be part of it...
"M' husband," he mutters, choking on his words. "Miss ya... What'd we do?"
Fin doesn't answer. The machines beep, he breathes. Sweden wants to cry.
And he, and everyone else, is going to stay at that hospital, waiting for some kind of answer.