I Don't

174 Attempts

Denmark had tried for suicide a total of 174 times.

He quit after 174. It clearly wasn't working. Even if he was addicted to it.

Is it possible to be addicted to suicide? Can someone die and come back? Is that what he did? Did the pounding muscle in his chest stop and then restart? He would never know, nor would anyone else. He would never tell them. For all he cared, they could see his happy, smiling face everyday for as long as he lived (which on occasion, he hoped wasn't very long.)

But, then he met Lukas some where along the way.

He gave him even more of a reason to die. Yet, he gave him the feeling of lust, love, and need.

Lust, love, and need. It would happen in his viking ages. He would conquer lands. They would quiver before him in fear, filling him with power. Power lust.

"Kneel."

Such simple words and smirking face brought defiance to Norway. He refused to bow, kneel, or even acknowledge the Dane.

The Dane smirked and brought his foot down on the smaller, more delicate country's shoulder. A satisfying crack and scream filled the air.

"Go... die..."

His smirk faltered, not that Norway would ever know. He regained his poise. Denmark leaned closer to the pale Norwegian, their faces close. Pale blue eyes flickered away, refusing to meet his bright blue ones. How rude.

"Didn't ya ever learn manners?" He picked up the rather light Norwegian, throwing him over his shoulder, "Ya are supposed to look someone in the eye when they're talkin' to ya, Norge."

He shivered as his fur coat failed to protect him from the freezing temperatures. He frowned and pulled it closer as he walked away. Norway was pounded on his back, which really just felt like being poked. He bumped him up on his shoulder, a warning to stop.

Maybe he should go for Iceland next. Norway's littler brother... He could have brothers! He had always lived alone. It was boring because nobody ever wanted to go near him, not even his chief.

He grinned as he approached his village. Nodding and smiling at his villagers (which they ignored), he made his way home in the back of the village. His warm home made of stone and wood. He would start a fire and lock Norge away, who had stopped moving.

Which was a little worrisome, but he was definitely still alive. He could hear the shallows breaths. Yeah, he was okay.

He might have broken his shoulder though. Whoops. Not his problem! He could just go to the old lady next door if it was bad. She brought him food and helped him on occasion. She was nice.

He carefully set down the unconscious Norwegian down on his warm bed. He studied his features carefully.

Norway had a really girly figure, now that he looked at him. He had a narrow jaw and rather girly (yet some how masculine) eyes. His cheek bones were high and he had pale skin. He looked like a very feminine male. Which made him even cuter.

A blush dusted Denmark's cheeks. He shouldn't be thinking things like that. Norway wouldn't like him anyway.

He turned the smaller country over, making sure his shoulder was supported. He took off the Norwegian's robes, which were plentiful. Setting them aside, he assessed how much damage he did. He felt it gingerly. It wasn't too bad. Just dislocated. He gathered some herbs from his 'I Broke Something' shelf of herbs and mixed a few together. Smothering them with honey, he placed a wooden spoonful in Norge's mouth.

Making sure Norge had swallowed it, he moved back to his shoulder. Placing one on Norge's chest and wrapping his hand around his arm, he quickly pulled his shoulder back into place.

Norge groaned and his eyes fluttered open, revealing indigo orbs. Denmark looked down at him, "Hiya. I just set your right shoulder back, so be careful! Sorry about that, by-"

A smack was heard before Denmark felt a sting in his cheek. He was also now looking to the left instead of down at the boy he had just defeated. Did he just slap him?

A whoosh of air was heard as Norge sent his fist sailing toward the Dane in attempt to get him off. Denmark scowled and grabbed hold of his wrists in one hand, holding them above his head.

Leaning over Norway's torso, he smiled at him, "We're friends now. Friends don't hit friends unless it's sparring."

That was the first way he learned that Norway did not consider him a friend.