Woebegone – Woe be gone

Pairing: SuFin

Rating: K for mature subjects

Summary: "It was most likely Finland calling, to ask if he'd remembered the lunch box or something. The thought provoked a spontaneous twitch at one corner of his mouth. However when he pressed the answer button, it was a formal female voice that greeted him."

I wont say too much about this story, because I don't wanna reveal too much. However I can tell you it was supposed to be ONE long fic but once I realized it had grown too long, I decided on breaking it up into chapters.

I really just wrote it to try something more serious than what I've previously written for Hetalia, so consider this an experiment. I

think there are going to be approximately four chapters alltogether, so it isn't going to be a long fic.
Anyway, give it a try :3

Midsummer

Berwald still didn't know whether it was Finland's pleading glances or Sealand's resolute begging that each midsummer hustled him out of their red, handcrafted log house, and made him go to the nearby village to celebrate "midsommar".

In the end it was probably Sealand's pertinacious endeavor to physically drag him out of the house by the sleeve that overpowered the old nation.

That boy was truly taking after England when it came to stubbornness, and that wasn't a good sign.

Sweden would have been perfectly content with celebrating the Swedish festival at home.

He would have build a maypole on the silver-green meadow that stretched out in front of the house, so it could be admired from the porch, and have Sealand and Finland decorate it.

Finland would likely suggest hanging skulls on it, spray it with fake blood, and dance around it to heavy-metal. Then Sweden's glasses would start flashing menacingly, and put out the excitement on the Finns face, even though Sweden was just trying to convey a declining smile. Not scare him off.

He had once been lost in a forest for a whole night with Denmark, and the latter had pointed out, that it looked like Berwald's face was frozen in the same grimace all the time.

Sometimes Finland's reactions caused him to believe it, but he still didn't regret the well-placed kick he'd given the Dane in the wake of the brash comment.

Instead of the small celebration he wanted, he got overpowered year after year, after having been accused of being antisocial by Sealand, who loved the festival.

Finland was fond of the Swedish tradition too, and liked to celebrate along with normal non-nation humans. And if Finland wanted it, Sweden would give in. Again and again and again almost as much as Christmas eve.

And Sweden would give in. As long as Denmark wouldn't be there, mind you.

That's why he now found himself sitting in the moist grass in the company of the other residents of the red house. Finland, Sealand, and Hanatamago.

His family.

The sumptuously decorated maypole piled up before him, and a few kids were still cavorting around it with unflagging energy, but the previous dancing of the villagers had died out, and now the meadow hummed with tipsy chit-chat.

The sun was a red-glowing crescendo behind the towering black spruces in the distance, and the air smelled like herring and freshness and Finland's hair shampoo.

On second thoughts, that was probably only because he'd leaned his head on Sweden's shoulder just now, causing Sealand to utter repulsed puke-sounds.

"Ew, Mama and Papa are being gross!"

Sweden didn't mind Tino's act, but Sealand's exclamation made the Finn remove his head, and shush Sealand, cheeks bright pink.

Just sitting here contemplating his family, made his chest bubble fervently.

"This" he thought raptly, "and nothing more."

...

"Ruotsi, could you please stop staring at me?" came the cautious request from Finland, who looked beyond intimidated. Next to him, Sealand was doubling over in laughter at the bemused Swede.

"Papa is acting like a creepo again!" the little nation teased.
"S'rry," Sweden mumbled, fumbling with his glasses, his ears burning with embarrassment.

The following day everything returned to normal.

Sealand had left the house with Latvia to play at his house, Sweden had gotten his usual prank call, from a strange man called "the Ikea bomber" who sounded suspiciously like Denmark, and Finland had packed the nation a lunch box and a vacuum jug with coffee, because Sweden was supposed to be in the forest chopping firewood all day.

"Everything was back to normal" Berwald thought to himself.

As he trudged through the forest, he still felt the sensation of Finland's goodbye-kiss on his cheek, and as the day went by, he started thinking of a way to thank the Finn when he got home.

Sweden breathed heavily as he swung the axe one last time.

There. Now it was time for a break.

Leaving the tool buried deeply in a tree stump, he fished the coffee and lunch box out of his bag, and sat on a low sitting branch.

The stray light that snuck through the leafy foliage above his head, filtered a splendid yellowish pattern at his feet, and the silence around him engulfed him. The forest was both enthralling and welcoming this time of year, and it made Berwald think of the times he and Tino had been walking around in the very same forest, collecting food.

Of course their life wasn't as picture-perfect as it might seem.

Just like any other family, Fin and he had problems, but most of the time it consisted of misunderstandings and lack of communication. From his side.

The great thing was, that Finland knew he loved him and that the whole confession deal was now a thing of the past. They had been through that decades ago, and now, finally, he could just enjoy a normal and peaceful life.

"I better express my appreciation though..." he though, munching on an "Angry-wildebeest-with-rabies-from-Hell". one of Finland's new recipes.

He wasn't sure what exactly the strange-named crackers consisted of, but the distinct taste was tolerable and he knew Finland tried hard, so he ate them without complain.

Suddenly,the shrill tone of his phone tucked safely in his breast pocket distracted him.

He regarded the clash of the stillness of the forest and the penetrating noise from the piece of technology in his pocket to be somehow incompatible.

It was most likely Finland calling, to ask if he'd remembered the lunch box or something. The thought provoked a spontaneous twitch at one corner of his mouth. However when he pressed the answer button, it was a formal female voice that greeted him.

"H'llo?"

"Hello, am I talking to Berwald Oxenstierna?"

"Y's?" Berwald mumbled, whilst pondering what the woman wanted.

"I am Anna Lindquist, from the local police, and I have to ask you to come home immediately."

"Wh't does 't c'ncern?" he asked slowly. Cautiously.

He had never received a call from the police during his extraordinary life span of over one thousand years. Even before the phone became invented, he had only fought when he needed to... this had to be bad.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to pass on any information through the phone." she replied flatly. "I need to speak to you in person."

"W'll, would ya' at least g'mme a clue." His voice remained its usual, monotonous self, but Berwald felt his throat shrivel up around his vocal chord and panic race like fireworks in his midriff.

I had to be bad, if they wouldn't inform him through the phone.

"Sorry, I'm only following the rules."

Her dismissive tone irked him.

"I'd l'ke to kn'w if m'house is burned d'wn when I get th're."

Why the hell did she stall him off like this?

The contracting sensation in his throat grew more pronounced.

"It isn't, but I need to..."

"To t'll me wh't happ'ned," he finished her sentence, hoping to sound as authoritative as he would have appeared in person, towering over her.

The silence on the other end was ominous. Then...

"Very well. I'm terribly sorry but there has been an accident at your house."
"An accid'nt?

"...in which one person has died."

No.

"and I need you to get home as soon as possible."

"I'm c'mming, j'st wait..." he informed tonelessly, and hit the "end call" button.

Tino.

DUN DUN DUN DUN... Sooooo, I bet you didn't expect THAT ONE comming. Or maybe you did, who knows.

Leave a review and tell me what an evil piece of crap I am for doing this to Berwald... But keep in mind that there's gonna be more, so don't devastate just yet :3

I need some sleep now, nighty~