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Chapter Text

Sweden was an accident.

And his mother made sure he knew it. She'd hit him, starve him, leave him alone for who knows how long while she was out drinking. She always came back crazed and violent, so he'd learned very quickly to avoid her at all costs, or else. Once, he tried telling her to calm down and sleep off the alcohol- a mistake that had ended in his first scar: a stab wound, in his right shoulder. He ran away, sobbing, too afraid to look her in the eye ever again.

But yet, he still loved her. She was his mother, after all, and some desperate part of him prayed so dearly for her to care for him that he'd started to believe that she actually did. That somewhere, beneath all that ice and hostility, she loved him. He truly believed.

That was until the day she sold him.

That was the day his life changed, for the worse, if that was possible. His new owner decided that a vagina was a fun way to make money and Sweden had no choice but to let all those sick, twisted clients do whatever they pleased to him.

He was property and he should have accepted that by now. But yet, after three years, he still held on to hope. That didn't stop him from feeling lonely, hopeless, and so, so afraid.

His life was a train wreck. It always had been, and he was too naive to see it. Nobody cared about him and he was starting to think maybe he was better off dead.

The man he'd been sold to put him in the sex industry, more specifically, escort services. It was hell but at least it wasn't pornography- that was what he reminded himself. And there wasn't a way out of this. He was broken beyond repair. It was a wonder Finland even noticed him in the first place.

And maybe that's where this story actually starts.

The night Sweden tried to run away, it was pouring rain. Thunder shook the ground as lightning crackled through the sky ominously. He was on edge even more than normally, since his first attempt had failed and ended in sickening violence.

He was able to leave the house without being detected, be he had no idea where to go. Eventually, after wandering down the street for maybe fifteen minutes, he decided to head downtown and hide out in a 24/7 restaurant or something. It wouldn't be long before his owner realized he was missing. Maybe, he could call the police? But what could they do?

Ducking inside a bus stop shelter, Sweden sighed heavily and brushed his soaked blue hair off of his face. He'd had the insight to grab some money before he left. It might last him two days, but he wouldn't live long after that. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

There was also the problem of shelter. The rain seemed to be coming down harder every minute, not to mention how cold it was. Mid-November nights were never kind. Perhaps he could find an overhang behind an empty store or something. The storm wasn't letting up and it was almost 1 am.

He was tired of suffering.

All of a sudden, he heard a voice from somewhere nearby: A figure on the sidewalk, their face shielded by an umbrella. "The bus doesn't come until morning, if you need to go somewhere I'll gladly drive you."

That was when Sweden's life changed again, and this time, it was for better.

Chapter Text

"Are you okay?" The person asked. Their voice was so quiet that Sweden could hardly hear it over the sound of the storm outside.

Sweden swallowed thickly. He didn't have to tell them anything, but he wanted someone to talk to. Does he want to help me? Did my owner already realize I was missing and send him? The stranger didn't seem ill-intended, but you wouldn't think someone's own mother would be either.

The stranger continued, "If you need somewhere to stay, my place isn't far."

I mean, it's better than nothing... Sweden thought. Even if this guy was going to hurt hum, he was used to it. So, he inhaled deeply and replied, "O-okay."

Without hesitation, the man took his hand and led him back out into the rain, sheltering him under the umbrella.

They were right- the apartment complex was only a few blocks away. It was a nice apartment, well-finished with a good amount of space.

"You can shower if you want," The stranger told Sweden, motioning to the bathroom. "And I can get you some dry clothes."

Sweden nodded and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The counter was littered with hair products and clips and such, which made him wonder whether they were his savior's or if there was someone else living there too.

He showered quickly, enjoying how good the warm water felt on his aching body. Every part of him was sore, especially his legs. But that was pretty normal.

When he exited the shower, there were two clean towels and a set of fleece pajamas on the counter. The pajamas were a little big on him but he didn't mind. He liked things looser anyway, and besides, it made him look flat-chested.

In the living room, they, as well as another lady (who Sweden could only assume was a girlfriend) were sitting on the couch drinking what smelled like tea. The girlfriend waved him over and beckoned for him to sit somewhere. He did, and she handed him another mug of tea from who-knows-where. It was mint, and tasted good.

Then stranger turned to him, saying, "My name is Finland. This is my friend Denmark." He motioned to the girl beside him. She smiled, and Sweden couldn't help but notice how pretty it was. She had a gorgeous smile. He also noticed that she had pitch-black hair that was tied up in a ponytail and fell almost to her waist, by the looks of it. Finland, on the other hand, had messy white hair that fell a little past his chin. But both of them wore all-black, down to their socks.

Finland continued, "You can stay with us as long as you need to get back on your feet."

As long as you need. Sweden stared down into the mug in his hands. Why were they being so kind to him? He was nobody. Looking up, he whispered, "But- why?"

Finland brushed his bangs off of his face and his beautiful, soft blue eyes met Sweden's own dark golden ones. Reaching out to hold one his hands, he replied, "Because you deserve kindness."

It was then that Sweden realized a horrible truth. In his entire sixteen years of life, he'd never been shown kindness. Never been treated like a human being, never once thought of himself as deserving of love.

Well, there's a first time for everything.

Chapter Text

Sweden slept well that night, for the first time in, ever. He'd insisted that Finland and Denmark take the beds (turns out they weren't dating) and that he'd be fine on the couch. Nonetheless, Denmark insisted on giving him her bed for the next evening.

He was awoken by the sound of clanging metal coming from the kitchen. He'd always been a light sleeper and he was used to being woken up suddenly and erratically for the most random of reasons- usually because his owner was either drunk and wanted to torment someone, or to throw him in the basement for a few days for seemingly no reason.

On another note, the couch was actually pretty comfortable and he'd slept through the entire night despite the storm outside.

"I told you not to wake him up," Finland chastised from somewhere out of Sweden's field of vision.

Denmark's reply came quickly, "Yeah, well, it's 1 pm and I want lunch. He's gotten plenty of sleep."

Sighing, Finland came into view from out of his bedroom. He turned to Sweden, saying, "Sorry she woke you up..."

"'s fine. I'm used to it. And if she's right and it is 1 pm, then I've definitely gotten enough sleep." Sweden sat up and rubbed his eyes. Ten hours is seven more than I normally get.

From the kitchen, there were hissing noises from melted butter in a pan. There was also the sound of boiling water, which made him think maybe Denmark was making pasta. He liked pasta and was pretty good at making it. It was quick, simple, and fairly cheap, so it was pretty much the only food he'd eaten during his childhood. Sometimes, when his mom didn't get takeout, she had him cook for her. That was always what he made, mostly because he knew she also liked it.

"What are you thinking about?" Finland asked, pulling Sweden out of his memories.

Sweden sighed and stood up to go to the kitchen and see if there was anything he could do to help with lunch. "Just... Stuff that doesn't matter anymore."

Chapter Text

After lunch, Denmark left for classes at the career center, where she was studying mechanical engineering. Finland was reading a book on the couch and Sweden was drawing something on a piece of notebook paper. He wasn't a very good artist but he enjoyed drawing. At the moment, he was doodling little rabbit-people here and there, while he let his mind wander.

Although he'd never been to a therapist or psychologist, Sweden highly suspected he might have ADHD. He couldn't pay attention to anything unless he had some sort of minor stimulation in the background, like tapping his foot, listening to music, or (and this was more of a bad habit) biting his nails.

Finland looked up from his book (The Tell-Tale Heart) and set it down, walking over to the table where Sweden was sitting. He sat down next to him, asking, "So how exactly did you end up away from home? Like what situation did you come from? If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I'm just curious."

Sweden's insides knotted up. He didn't know whether or not he wanted to talk about what he'd gone through or not. He trusted Finland, but...

Lowering his lead and refusing to meet Finland's gaze, he replied with a soft "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh, okay. That's fine. One other thing, though- I don't think I ever caught your name."

Finland was right. It had been almost an entire day and Sweden hadn't even told him his name. "Um, it's Sweden. Sorry I forgot to tell you."

Finland smiled. "No problem. Thanks for telling me. What are your pronouns?"

"He/him."

"Same. I suppose I should have specified last night."

The two then returned to their activities until Finland spoke again, "I have to leave for work in a bit. I do nightshift at a gas station so I won't be back until 4 am." He stood up and stretched, heading over to the door to pull on a jacket. "Denmark won't be home till late so I hope you're okay by yourself for a few hours. And also, I'll check your wrists in the morning so don't try any sort of self-harm. I'm serious." When Sweden nodded in response and Finland decided that he believed him, he left, leaving Sweden all alone.

Chapter Text

It was only 6 pm, but it was pitch-black outside- save for the streetlights illuminating the road below. Sweden looked out at the scene, letting his mind wander again until he noticed someone. A girl stood on the balcony of the apartment across the street. Just standing there, in the freezing darkness. She was tall, her white hair obscuring her face as his was thrown about by the frigid wind, and seemed to be staring up at the sky. It was cloudy, but the half moon was still visible behind the thin veil of overcast fog.

After a short bit, a second figure joined her. This one was shorter, with much darker hair and wearing a bright red shirt that glowed in the light from the streetlight below. They just stood there. For a long time. Sweden wondered what they were doing- admiring the sky, enjoying the freezing temperatures, of just taking in the crisp, fresh air.

Eventually, it started to rain, and they went back inside. Sweden turned from the windowsill and went to make himself something to eat in the kitchen. He made a sandwich, and flipped through tv channels as he ate, eventually settling on a baking show. By the time he finished the episode, the rain had turned to sleet, coming down harder with every minute. The sidewalk below glistened with ice and Sweden wondered how long it would be before it melted, with the oncoming cold front.

It was a miracle he hadn't gotten sick when he ran away, what with the freezing rain and everything. He thought about Finland and Denmark's kindness in letting him stay with them even though they hardly knew him.

Speaking of Denmark, she returned in a horrible mood, likely brought on by the weather outside. She was muttering swear words under her breath as she hung up her soaked and frozen jacket before retreating to the bathroom to shower. 

Chapter Text

Deciding to make himself useful, Sweden went to the kitchen and boiled water for tea, figuring Denmark would want something warm to drink. When she returned from her bedroom in pajamas, she was incredibly grateful for the insightful gesture. She explained that there was nothing she hated more than being cold and wet, which was why her mood had softened now that she was warm. Sweden decided not to hold her to her promise of letting him take her bed, since she seemed to have had a rough day. It was just a matter of her letting him take the couch again.

Seeming to have read his mind, Denmark spoke up, saying, "I wonder if since Finland isn't going to be home for another while, maybe you could take his bed and make him sleep on the couch when he gets back."

"Do you think he'll mind?" Sweden inquired.

"Probably not. Even if he does, what's he gonna do about it? Wake you up and yell at you? He's way too polite for that and we all know it." Denmark finished her tea and set the mug in the sink. She turned to her room, remarking, "Thanks for the tea. Sleep well!" 

When Sweden woke up, fat snowflakes drifted lazily down from the sky outside. He sat up, stretched, and walked to the window to admire the frosty scene outside. It looked so pretty, part of him wanted to go out for a walk and enjoy it. But the ice from last night would make that decently unsafe. The ice on the road would make it impossible to drive, he realized. His mind immediately flashed to Finland- had he made it home safely?

Glancing at the clock on the wall, which read 7:15, Sweden wandered out of the bedroom and let out a sigh of relief as he saw Finland sleeping peacefully on the couch. He quietly went to the kitchen to get breakfast, not wanting to wake him or Denmark up. After a bit of sifting through the pantry, he found some cinnamon Pop-Tarts and stood at the window while he ate. He liked watching the activity below- it wasn't creepy or anything, he just found it entertaining. Besides, he needed something to do with himself anyway.

Below, two girls exited the building across the street- the same ones as the night before, he thought. He could better make out their faces in the daylight: the taller, white-haired one had a flag split horizontally with white and red, and the other with horizontal stripes of black, red, and yellow. They entered a small shop next to their building, with a sign that read "Fanciful Nightmare Boutique". It had fairy lights strung in the front window, with several gorgeous, intricate dresses on display.

In one of the windows of the floor right above the store, there was a lesbian pride flag. There was also the fluffiest white cat Sweden had ever seen sitting on the window sill, seemingly doing the same thing he was- observing and watching the activity below.

Despite how cruel his mother had been, she wasn't homophobic. She was always bringing home women after her excursions to clubs and bars, and had hardly batted an eye when he'd reluctantly come out to her as trans and gay. She'd even used his preferred name when she called him a worthless, failed, waste of space and such. But he didn't need to worry about her anymore. He was safe now, thanks to Denmark and Finland's hospitality.

Speaking of Denmark, she was awake now. He hadn't even noticed her until she was right beside him, asking him how long he'd been up for. He practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, um, maybe, ten minutes?" He stuttered. "I kinda want to go on a walk but it looks icy out there."

"Well, there's a bodega on the first floor of this building. It's a little cafe-like convenience store thing. From what I've seen, it's really cozy and the people who work there are super friendly. You could go check it out," Denmark suggested, taking a sip of coffee that she'd produced from... somewhere.

"That sounds interesting. I'll go see what it's like." Sweden stated. He headed for the door and pulled on one of Finland's hoodies that was hanging up. It smelled nice and was very soft. "If I'm not back in an hour, look for me," He added before slipping out the door and into the stairwell. He closed the door behind him and began descending the steps, noticing that the door of the room right below theirs displayed another pride flag- this one non-binary. The one below that was decorated with several pots of bright flowers, in stark contrast to the bleak, wintry outside.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was met with a wooden door. Chatter could faintly be heard from the other side. It was a heavy door, the kind used to prevent fires from spreading, and Sweden had to push his shoulder against it to have enough force to open it.

He stepped through the doorway and was promptly hit by a wall of warmth, light, and noise. The sounds of coffee grinders, friendly chatter, and some five-inch stilettos drifted through the cafe.

But through all the voices, one in particular stood out. It was brighter, cheerier, like a brilliant purple crocus in a field of snow. It wasn't long before Sweden located the source of the voice. He'd hardly finished taking in his surroundings when a man wearing black pants and a white button-up waltzed his way over.

"Hey there! I don't think I recognize you, have we met before? I'm Austria, I'm a barista, I work here and I love it it's literally the BEST JOB EVER! Who are you? What's your name? Where are you from?"

Only incredibly overwhelmed, Sweden just kind of stood there in silence as his brain processed what he'd just experienced. However, he eventually managed to catch up and reached out to shake Austria's hand. "I'm, uh, I'm Sweden. I'm staying with Finland and Denmark for... A little bit," He stammered.

Austria replied quickly, chirping, "Oh, them! They just moved in here and I haven't officially met them yet but they seem really nice. Are they nice? They better be nice. Otherwise it isn't fair for them to look nice. Ya know?"

"Um, yeah, no, they're great. I don't really know them very well either but I think they're awesome," Sweden replied as Austria pulled him further into the store, showing him around and introducing him to a lot of people. It was quite frankly the most overwhelmed-in-a-good-way he'd ever felt before, but he was still an introvert.

Everyone was talking like they were all good friends. Maybe it was Austria's cheery energy, maybe it was the warm glow cast by the various light sources decorating the establishment, or maybe it was the sweet scent of pastries and flowers from the little flower shop next door that wafted its way over, but Sweden had a feeling he was going to like this place.

Chapter Text

After a long bit of socialization, Sweden made his way to the door of the bodega. He bid Austria farewell before he turned to leave, but as he headed for the door he noticed someone standing near it, pinning something up on the bulletin board.

At first, he assumed he was just paranoid, but as they turned he could clearly see their flag, all-red with a hammer and sickle in the corner. His owner.

He'd wondered how long it would be until his owner came after him- now he had his answer. Terror coiled inside him and he took a step back. He could feel his heartbeat quickening and his breathing getting shallower. Praying he wouldn't be seen, he ducked behind a shelf and tried to get as far away from that man as possible. His whole body was shaking and he couldn't breathe, like all the air had been ripped from his lungs.

Austria seemed to sense his fear, realized what was happening, and pulled him behind one of the counters. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

Sweden clutched at Austria's arm, afraid his legs might give out, and gasped, "I- I need to get out of here."

"Hey, calm down, deep breaths. The guy's gone now. You're safe." Austria soothed, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He handed it to Sweden, saying, "Drink this. It'll get you back in touch with your body and calm down your breathing."

Sweden took a sip of the cool liquid. Austria was right, it helped, but he still felt like he might collpapse at any second. He cautiously looked around the lively cafe, checking that the man really was gone. He handed the now-empty glass back to Austria.

"Thank you," He breathed.

"Of course. Who was that guy?" Austria asked, putting his arm around Sweden and leading him to the door of the shop.

"Uh, someone, who's hurt me. Lots." Sweden tried to focus on walking and not falling over.

"Well, don't worry. I won't turn you in, and if there is a God may he strike me down as I stand if I do," Austria laughed lightly as the two reached the bottom of the staircase. "For now, let's get you back with your friends. Finland and Denmark, right?"

"Y- yeah."

As they ascended the concrete stairs, shouting could be heard from above. The closer they got, Sweden realized that it was coming from the apartment with the non-binary flag. Outside of it, a woman with short, black hair and half-moon spectacles was furious with another figure inside.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," They were saying coolly. This seemed to infuriate the woman even more. "Get out of here and keep your nose in your own business."

"WHY YOU-" The lady sputtered. "I'M YOUR LANDLADY!I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SEARCH YOUR ROOM!"

"Actually, you don't, because when I moved in, you gladly signed a contract of mine stating that you wouldn't come in unless you had my express permission."

Without saying a word, Austria positioned himself in a way that hid Sweden from the lady's sight. "She's looking for you," he whispered urgently. They hurried the rest of the way up to the fourth floor. Sweden slipped inside quietly and whispered his thanks to Austria before locking the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Sweden collapsed onto the ground, his legs unable to hold him any longer. He glanced around the room to see that Denmark was nowhere to be found, and Finland was probably still asleep. He figured the woman would be there any minute and he'd just have to pray that she didn't have a key to the apartment.

He felt like crying, and the tightness in his chest was making it impossible to breath. He was terrified and confused.

Faintly, through the static in his ears, he heard a door open. Finland stepped out of his bedroom and as soon as he saw Sweden leaning against the door, frightened, he immediately dropped to his knees beside him.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" His voice was cracked with sleep but his eyes sparkled with concern.

"I- I ran into someone- almost- and- and he's looking for me and I can't go back and I-" Sweden choked, hiding his face in his hands as his emotions boiled over. He felt Finland place his hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Don't worry, you're safe. I won't let him take you back," Finland reassured softly.

Sweden nodded and wiped his eyes. He trusted Finland, even if he was afraid. Taking a deep breath, he shakily tried to stand up again but nearly fell. Fortunately, Finland caught him on instinct and helped him up.

There was a harsh knock at the door. Sweden froze, assuming it was the angry woman. Thinking quickly, Finland opened the door to the closet beside the door and beckoned to it.

"Hide," He ordered quietly. "I'll take care of Estonia."

Sweden ducked into the dark closet and the door was closed, leaving him in what would be total darkness if not for the sliver of light coming in from under the door. It smelled like dust and fabric, but it wasn't really bad.

Outside, he heard faint voices. They were muffled by the door and it was impossible to make out what was being said. He caught snippets of what sounded like words, but it was hard to tell.

After a short eternity, the voices stopped, and Sweden heard the door close and Finland opened the closet.

"That was the landlady, Estonia. You're right, they are looking for you." His voice was nervous.

Sweden buried his face in his hands. "What am I going to do? They'll find me eventually."

"No, they wil not. If they want you they're going to have to fight through me and Denmark- and that girl had a death kick." Finland retorted, determined.

Their conversation was interrupted by another knock, this one much softer and disarming. Sweden froze up, nervous, but Finland didn't seem worried. He went back to the door and opened it to reveal a different girl- were they a girl? Their hair was short and white and they wore dark gray overalls with cute daisies on them. Their voice was non-portrayant of any gender whatsoever when they spoke as well.

"Hey," They waved, and a few bracelets on their wrist jingled. "Heard Estonia harping on about shit. Did she try and search your place?"

"No, thank goodness," Finland sighed. "You know how she feels about me. Denmark isn't here so maybe she felt a little less... threatened."

A chuckle. "Honestly! Anyway I just wanted to make sure you were okay. She's real pissed about Sweden being somewhere here. I can't believe she's trying to turn him in- he's clearly a runaway."

"I agree." Finland stepped aside to put Sweden in their line of vision. Nervously, he made eye contact and stepped closer to Finland as a sort of... comfort, almost.

"Nice to meet you," They smiled. "I'm Iceland. I know Finland from school and we're pretty close. Don't worry, you're safe. With me and Fin, I mean. Not necessarily this building." Iceland scanned the area behind them to see if anyone was within earshot before leaning in and whispering, "If you ask me, Estonia is a bitch who's more trouble than she's worth. All she wants is money and Finland's heart and if I were you I would definitely stay away from her at all costs."

Sweden nodded. "Don't worry, I will. She seems mean."

"She's not too bad, but yeah, she's kind of in a mood right now." Finland chimed in. He sighed. "I would never date her."

"I wouldn't either," Sweden agreed.

Iceland laughed and brushed a bit of dust from their shoulder. "I better go, but it was nice to meet you. Stay safe." They stuck their hand out and Sweden shook it, smiling slightly. "Nice to meet you too."

With that, Iceland turned and shut the door behind them, leaving Sweden and Finland alone once again. 

Chapter Text

Sweden felt cold hands on his body. There was weight pressing down on him, forcing the air from his lungs and choking him. He felt hot, his skin was slick with sweat, and his head hurt like mad. He knew what was happening. He'd felt this far too many times before.

Everything hurt, worse than it used to- much, much worse. He tried to struggle against whoever was pinning him down but he couldn't, couldn't fight, couldn't breathe, couldn't even cry out in pain and fear. All he could see was darkness but he heard a sickeningly familiar voice in his ear, hissing, "They don't care about you. You're broken and worthless and will never amount to anything."

Sweden was confused and scared, he had no idea what was happening, odd flashes of light sparkling through the dark at random intervals. He knew who was on top of him, it was his owner, pressing his weak body down onto cold.

Where was he? Had he been grabbed in the middle of the night?

The walls were closing in. The air remaining in his lungs was on fire, like the electricity in his veins. He wanted to scream but he couldn't open his mouth. There was something stopping him from being able to move a muscle- was he paralyzed? Tied up? Was this even real?

Of course it was real. He could feel every beat of his heart resounding in his chest, the icy fingertips touching places he wasn't okay with, the painful, unstoppable heat coursing through his body like a freight train.

He heard someone panicked calling his name. It wasn't his owner, though, the voice was softer, warmer, kinder.

Finland.

Maybe they were both being held prisoners. Maybe hi owner planed on taking Finland, too. The thought of Finland being forced to go through everything Sweden had mad him seethe in rage. He'd let his owner hurt him all he wanted to, just not Finland, he was too good for that, too kind, too sweet. Please, don't hurt Finland... Sweden prayed. His head was throbbing and he was sickeningly dizzy. He felt those frozen hands clawing at him, drawing blood. The voice, whispering so that only he could hear, "You will never be good enough. You deserve to die, you pathetic little-"

"Sweden!"

Sweden was violently jolted awake, gasping for air. Finland was beside him, shaking him awake. "Are you okay? You're crying and shaking and I'm worried about you."

Finland was right- Sweden could feel his body trembling and hot tears running down his cheeks. He was still dizzy, so much so that he couldn't sit up. He tried, but fell back each time.

"I... where am I?" Sweden asked, attempting to see though the darkness to no avail.

Finland replied gently, "Right here. With me. You're okay, trust me."

"I had... a bad dream, is all," Sweden sighed, burying his face in his pillow momentarily. The blanket atop him felt too heavy and it was kind of hard to breath- which maybe explained how he'd felt in his nightmare. But it had seemed so real...

"Well, if you want someone to talk to, I'm here. Always." Finland reached out and brushed a lock of Sweden's hair out of his face. He frowned as he remarked, "You feel hot. Are you alright?"

"I... I dunno... I feel dizzy..."

"You probably have a fever. I'll get you some water. Are you hot or cold? Or both?"

"Hot. Really."

"Mm, we could open a window for a bit to get some cooler air in here if you want, it is pretty stuffy." Finland walked to the door and exited, shortly returning with a glass of cold water. Sweden tried sitting up again but it was pretty much pointless. He could, however, prop his head up with another pillow without much difficulty.

While he was drinking the water, Finland opened the window slightly. A cool breeze washed through the room. It had gotten warmer (if only by a few degrees), and felt like only an October wind instead of late-November. It was much easier to breathe, and cleared Sweden's head a little. It also felt good.

"We probably shouldn't leave that open for the rest of the night," Finland commented. "It'll be freezing in here, not to mention that it's supposed to... precipitate."

To be honest, the room being freezing didn't sound too bad to Sweden, but he knew that precipitation was not a good thing. The temperature was at that borderline where you didn't know what form the water falling from the sky would take, whether it would be cold rain, thick snow, or some hellish, icy mix of the two.

Setting the empty glass on the nightstand, Sweden rubbed his eyes. "I'm exhausted... even though I slept so long..."

"Makes sense," Finland said. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" He closed the window once the temperature of the room had lowered sufficiently and headed for the door. "Sleep good, wake me up if you need something."

Sweden nodded and exhaled deeply, letting himself calm fully. Before he knew it, he was asleep again, and did not wake up until much later in the afternoon.

Chapter Text

Sweden drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes seeing strange shapes and figures swimming across his vision or hearing ashen voices whispering dark thoughts into his ears. His memory was hazy and he couldn't remember most of his dreams. His perception of time was warped as well. When he was fully awake for a sliver of time, Finland had checked on him and informed him that it had been almost three days.

Sweden felt so dizzy he could barely sit up, and he had the occasional coughing fit. Everything ached, too.

Finland checked on him frequently, bringing him food and water and the necessary painkillers. The room was kept dark and cool (per Sweden's request), and for the most part he was free to be miserable in peace.

When his fever finally left and he was feeling better, Sweden was too exhausted to be relieved. It would seem like the opposite, but he just felt drained and heavy.

Finland sat on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?"

Sweden made a muffled noise of discomfort into the pillow as a response. Finland seemed to understand, though, and simply told him, "You're fever's gone, so you should be back to normal pretty soon."

Sweden really hoped so. 

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Denmark said, bent in an odd, upside-down position on a chair in the living room. "If you're available."

Sweden, half-awake, plopped down onto the couch. "Not like I'm going anywhere. I mean, unless you're evicting me." The last few words felt bitter and unwelcome on his tongue.

"No, no. I just, wanted to confirm, you are trans, correct?"

Sweden's breath caught. How was she going to feel about it? Could he trust her?

Denmark seemed to notice his discomfort and reassured him, "Relax. It's fine."

Sweden nodded. "Wh... why do you ask?"

"You need binders, right? What have you been using?"

Sweden frowned. "Sports bras. They don't work very good." Then he sighed. "But I had to work with what I had. Which, to be fair, wasn't much."

Denmark hummed. "We'll need to get you some. Maybe tonight, I know a lady who's really awesome who'd probably love to meet you."

"...Your voice sounds different."

"Hm? Oh! I've been practicing!" Denmark smiled. Her voice wasn't as... sandpaper-y, more airy than it had been the last time Sweden had spoken with her.

""What do you mean, practicing."

"I'm trans, too," Denmark smiled. "My natural voice is a lot deeper."

Sweden's eyes widened. Another trans person. And Iceland was non-binary. He never thought he'd meet a single other genderqueer person, let alone multiple! It was... comforting, in a way he didn't recognize. He wasn't crazy. There were others just like him. "I... I had no idea."

"I've been out for a while, but I can't get the voice. It's rough. Sometimes I feel stupid trying because I sound dumb, but the results are worth it. I mean, I had you fooled."

"What made you think I was trans?" Sweden asked.

"Chest, voice, general stature. You sit with your legs crossed." Denmark replied, with what vaguely resembled a shrug from her pretzeled position on the armchair.

Only then did Sweden notice that he was indeed sitting with his legs tightly crossed. Maybe it was a giveaway, but having them open felt unsafe and odd. Oh well, it didn't matter anyway.

That was a problem for his future self.

Chapter Text

That night, Sweden felt horrible. He was nothing but a burden. He felt broken, afraid, like maybe the voice in his nightmare was right- he'd never amount to anything. His wrists itched to feel pain, like they used to. No one was home. Just him and his hopeless misery.

He got a knife from the kitchen and didn't stop cutting himself until his hands and lower arms were painted red, spilling over onto the pristine white bathroom countertop. With every cut, he told himself that he deserved it no matter how much it hurt. The old marks on his wrists reopened easily, like they weren't sure whether or not to fully heal, and made it easy to bleed.

Speaking of bleeding, there was a lot more than usual. Maybe because it was fresh, maybe because it was more than what it used to be, maybe it was because he knew that this was what he deserved.

Sweden felt ethereal- it was wonderful. It was like he'd died, and it brought him peace. He could hardly even fell the pain in his wrists anymore. God, Finland is going to kill me if he finds this, he thought.

He was exhausted, too much to properly clean himself. All he bothered to do was wipe up the blood on the counter and loosely bandage the cuts on his arms. His right arm wasn't good considering he was right-handed and couldn't use his left hand for much.

He distantly wondered if Finland would check his wrists. Th man seemed forgetful, as he hadn't done so on Sweden's second day with them despite promising to do so. Hopefully, the next morning would be likewise. He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in a pillow and quickly falling into a shallow, restless sleep.

The next afternoon, Sweden awoke even more tired than when he'd gone to sleep. He heard movement, and saw its cause when he deliriously opened his eyes- Finland was standing on a chair to put up Christmas lights along the walls and quietly humming to himself. Sweden dazedly sat up, rubbing his eyes and brushing a lock of blue hair out of his face. He stood up slowly, afraid his legs might give out, and shakily walked to where Finland was standing.

"You're awake," Finland quietly remarked, turning to Sweden and smiling. "I was just putting up some lights, since it'll be December soon... I like how it gives the place a warmer feel."

Sweden nodded in agreement as a string of golden lights fell from Finland's grasp. He instinctively reached out and caught it. However, as he was reaching up to hand it back to Finland, the sleeves of his shirt fell back enough to reveal the messy bandages on his wrists.

He immediately dropped his arms, hoping that Finland wouldn't notice them. It didn't appear that he had, but Sweden was definitely the center of his attention now.

"Is everything alright?" Finland inquired.

Sweden wasn't sure how to respond. The truth is, no, but he doesn't want him to worry. Before he could answer, Finland continued.

"Show me your wrists."

He knew there was no point trying to hide anything now. He refused to meet Finland's gaze as he reached out his arms and pulled back the sleeves. His eyes were closed but he knew what Finland must be thinking. How disappointed and angry he must feel. Is he going to kick me out? Sweden worried, keeping his head down. He wouldn't blame him. He was broken and fucked-up beyond repair. But he had nowhere to go. He'd die from cold, or if not, then hunger. Maybe he was better off dead, where he couldn't hurt anyone.

He felt Finland run his hands over the messy bandages, which made him flinch. Cautiously, he looked up to see that Finland's crystal-blue eyes weren't angry- they were full of tears.

"Sweden, I... When did you... Why would- did I- Sweden, what-" His words boiled over, confused and shocked.

"L- last night... After you were gone... I... I'm sorry..." Sweden whispered.

Finland stared at the bandages for a few moments before telling Sweden "Come with me. We need to clean this up." He lead Sweden to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, running a washcloth in the warm water. Sweden didn't fight him as he pulled off the bandages and threw them away, retrieving fresh ones from a drawer.

"This is even more than I thought..." Finland said, clearly disturbed by Sweden's actions the previous night.

Sweden swallowed thickly, trying not to cry. "Y- yeah. I guess..."

Finland started wiping the dried blood off of his arms, careful that the rag's friction didn't reopen any of the cuts. He was focused on his work, maybe trying to avoid looking Sweden in the eyes. From another drawer, he produced a tube of ointment and gently rubbed some over the self-inflicted wounds. It stung, almost as much as seeing Finland so upset.

"Why would you do this?" Finland asked. His voice trembled slightly, like a barely-audible violin chord, as if he was trying not to cry.

"Because I deserve it," Sweden spat. He looked away, his body tense. "Because I'm a mess, I'm ruined and can't fix myself. But maybe if I destroy myself enough, I won't have to live in this godforsaken bitch of a world." It was horrible, but it was true.

As soon as he'd spoken, Finland immediately stopped what he was doing. He took Sweden's hands and when Sweden turned back he saw that the tears in his eyes were falling freely. At that, he felt his chest tighten and a crack kick at his heart.

"No. No, no, no, no. Sweden, I- no. Please no..." Finland trailed off, wiping the tears from his face. "Please, don't do this again. Promise me you won't do this again."

Sweden knew that could very well be a promise he couldn't keep. He didn't know what to say, eventually deciding on "I- I'll try..."

That wasn't good enough for Finland, apparently, because he looked Sweden dead in the eyes and demanded, "Promise me."

"I- I won't do it again."

"Promise me you won't kill yourself either. Not even try."

"...I promise." That Sweden could more surely vow. He wanted to die but the thought of actually killing himself hadn't legitimately crossed his mind... At least, not yet.

Chapter Text

Fuck it. Fuck his promise to Finland. Sweden couldn't do this anymore. He'd reached his breaking point. Finland was a light sleeper, though, he had to be careful. He knew that if was caught or didn't succeed, he'd be kicked out. There was no way Finland would want him around any longer.

He hadn't entirely thought through how exactly he was going to kill himself, but he had a few options. The first was just stabbing himself. He ruled this one out quickly, it would make a mess and would probably be the most difficult.
The second was overdosing. Acetaminophen seemed like the best possibility, but he didn't know how much he'd have to take. He also couldn't swallow pills well.
The third option was jumping from the building. It would be fast and fairly painless, and the chance of death was almost guaranteed because this was the fourth floor. The fire escape seemed like a good idea, but the door out to it was really old and creaky and would probably wake Finland up.

He was also partly worried that Denmark would come back and catch him. She'd been gone for two days and had only told them that she was with someone who needed her when Finland had texted her to ask if she was alright.

Sweden took a deep breath. The air in the room was heavy and felt like it was weighing down upon him. He decided to go with jumping, but chose the building room instead of the fire escape. He knew the stairs went all the way up.
Carefully, he exited the apartment and made his way up the dimly-lit staircase to the door that went out to the door. If it was locked, he'd have to resort to a window.

To his surprise, it was unlocked. As he opened it and stepped out onto the roof, he was hit by the cold air. It was a clear night, with some stars visible through the lights from far below. The building was six stories tall- more than enough. He faintly wondered if he should've left a note for Finland. But that would've made it harder to forget him.

He made his way to the edge and stepped onto the ledge, looking out at the sleeping city before him. He didn't want to live anymore, didn't want to be stuck in some horrible life, didn't want to have to depend purely on the generosity of someone else to have a roof over his head, didn't want to be stuck in a body that wasn't his. He felt tears running down his face and wiped them away with his jacket sleeve. No point in crying. He wouldn't have to be here any longer.
Exhaling slowly, Sweden closed his eyes. No going back now. Forcing himself to not think about anything or anyone else, he stepped off of the edge.

Chapter Text

Warm arms welcomed Sweden. He couldn't see, but he felt someone holding him. Was this an angel, carrying him to heaven? He'd never been religious, so the concept of angels was foreign, but he didn't have another explanation.

He tried opening his eyes to see who was holding him, but all he could make out was soft and white. He realized that, everything was okay now, he didn't have to live anymore.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the being carrying him as they landed on something. He was gently set down, and as he rubbed his eyes and looked around, he realized that, there was no way this was heaven. Peering down at him, wearing the fuzziest, pearly jacket he'd ever seen, was the tall, white-haired girl he'd seen a few times before- he was confident he'd recognize those wide, golden eyes anywhere. The girl neatly folded her pure white wings behind her.

"Am I... dead?" Sweden asked her with wide golden eyes of his own. His voice was so fucking high. She'd probably take him as a girl, and he wouldn't blame her.

"No, darling," She replied gently. She took his hand, tight enough to warn him to not try to fight her, and led him from the balcony and inside the apartment. "You are not."

The room was warm but dimly-lit, and smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, with hints of coffee, which were coming from the mug of the black-haired girl. She turned from her work at a computer at the sound of the sliding door closing. "Poland, what the hell--"

"I don't know but they tried to kill themself. Lucky I was on the balcony. I caught them." Poland replied.

So that was what had happened. He'd failed, that sank in now. He couldn't go back to Finland. He'd lose everything. He had to live, and face the consequences of his attempt.

"Ah." The other stood from the table and examined Sweden, who wanted nothing more than to be dissolved into the void. "Are you hurt at all?"

Yes, but only on the inside. He shook his head.

"What apartment did you come from?" Poland asked him. "We should get you back there--"

"No!" Sweden panicked. "Please, no! He'll kick me out if he finds out I tried to kill myself, I promised him I wouldn't--"

"Hey, calm down, breathe." The dark-haired girl rested her hand on Sweden's shoulder and exaggerated her breathing for him to follow. It took a little, but he eventually managed to calm himself down.

"Who are you staying with?" Poland led him to the couch and sat down beside him.

"Finland and Denmark..."

There was a laugh from the other girl before Poland elbowed her. "Germany!"

"I'm sorry, but those two are cinnamon rolls. They aren't going to be angry, I guarantee it."

"But I--"

"Listen, you'll be fine. Did you leave a note or anything?" Poland asked.

He shook his head.

Germany sighed. "Look, it's gonna be okay. Let's just get you home." She pulled Sweden to his feet and turned to the door.

As they descended the staircase. Poland asked, "By the way, name and pronouns?"

"Um, Sweden. He/him." He murmured.

"Poland, she/her!"

"Germany. Any pronouns, I'm genderfluid."

"Fuck, I kind of assumed you were a girl... sorry..." Sweden murmured.

"I assumed you were one too. Shots fired." Germany shrugged as they pushed open the door and they started across the street. Snow was falling silently on the road, piling up in piles of slush on the curb.

It wasn't far after that they began heading up the several flights of stairs to Sweden's apartment. The air felt cold and heavy, and it just then occurred to Sweden that Poland was wearing a knee-length skirt and no pants.

"Aren't you cold?"

"Nah. I like cooler weather, I don't know if you've seen me on the fire escape at all in the evenings."

"I have. N-not in, like a creepy way, I'm not watching you or anything--"

Poland laughed lightly as they reached the door. "I get you."

Sweden must have left the door unlocked when he left, which actually ended up being a good thing. Germany knocked sharply, just once.

"Do it more, he'll think you're Estonia otherwise..." Sweden murmured. He tried to scrape together some pathetic excuse for why he's attempted, he knew he would have a lot of explaining to do.

The door swung open and Finland stuck his head out. He looked a disheveled and sleep-deprived mess, but kept up politeness when he greeted the three.

"Is there... a problem...? What's... going on?"

Sweden withered under his gaze and looked away. He didn't know what to say, so he just stayed quiet.

"Sweden? Why're you..." The gears in Finland's brain were turning, he could tell. "Oh... oh."

The truth was hanging over their heads, they were all too scared to acknowledge it. It loomed above them as silence stretched and cracked its knuckles.

"I think," Poland interrupted no one in particular, "that if we're going to get worked up, we might as well sit down."

Chapter Text

Sweden couldn't look Finland in the eye, so instead he stared at the carpet while his hands nervously fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Finland was beside him, also making a note to look elsewhere. If Denmark were there, she would have had no difficulty bridging the gap and addressing the situation head-on.

But she wasn't there. Where was she? She'd been notably missing for over a day, which Sweden had learned to be unusual.

Despite her absence, the two were not alone. Germany-- who seemed as if they wanted the floor to swallow them whole-- and Poland, who didn't seem to mind addressing the heavy silence with a familial ease that made Sweden wonder what she'd been through to be so practiced at handling fragile material.

"Sweden, do you still feel suicidal?" Her voice was soft and comforting, it made Sweden want to hug her and cry into her shoulder or something. He was sure she wouldn't mind, but he knew better.

When the silence forced him to address the question, he shakily replied, "N-no." Well, that wasn't really true, bit there was little he could do about it.

"Good."

It was Finland who spoke next. "Is it my fault? Is it something I did, or said, or--"

"No!" Sweden silenced him. "No, it's me. I- I can't-- it's not your fault. At all."

"Why, then?"

"I'm hopeless," The words were falling out of Sweden's mouth before he could check them. "I have no idea what my life is going to look life, I can't stay here forever, the Soviet Union is actively looking for me, and I can't hide for the rest of my life. Everything is awful, I am a failure and I have no hope for a future."

He hadn't even noticed the tears, but they were there again. He hid his face in his hands.

"I know. I understand that everything's falling apart, and I am here for you. You can stay here as long as you need, we will defend you with our lives. We will get through this together." Finland rested a hand on Sweden's shoulder.

Poland started to say something, but was interrupted by the rattling of keys and the door swinging open. Denmark dragged herself into the apartment, disheveled and groggy, took one look at what was going on, and slipped into her bedroom without a word.

Finland looked about ready to kill her, Sweden wasn't sure why. But he was sure that he did not want to see Finland get angry.

"You know what we're gonna do now?" Finland asked him quietly.

"Sleep?" Sweden inquired, hopeful.

"Nope. We're gonna lock up every sharp object in this house."

Poland started to say something, but was interrupted by the rattling of keys and the door swinging open. Denmark dragged herself into the apartment, disheveled and groggy, took one look at what was going on, and slipped into her bedroom without a word. 

Finland looked about ready to kill her, Sweden wasn't sure why. But he was sure that he did not want to see Finland get angry. 

"You know what we're gonna do now?" Finland asked him quietly. 

"Sleep?" Sweden inquired, hopeful.

"Nope. We're gonna lock up every sharp object in this house."