Hetalia Deaths

Lukas Bondevik (Norway) Theory 2

All of the characters belong to Himeruya Hidekaz and the theory was written by fanfiction's InfernoxPhoenix, so credit for this sad, but wonderful, theory must be given to them.

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He hated to sound cliché, but it was one of those days. You know, when you wake up with a ball of existential dread in your stomach and you can feel the world passing by at three-quarter speed.

It was one of those days where he came crashing down from a grandiose, self-inflated high that included an agitated self-disclaimer. Crashing down from a place where he felt as invincible as some god among men, a place where if even for a second, he wasn't just some guy lost to the sloping, gray-paved streets.

Those highs weren't exactly good, and dammit he knew that- various google searches had told him eight thousand times over- but seeing a therapist, or whatever he was supposed to do, would take away that one bit of good feeling left in his life at this point. It was a strange reality for him, a bizarre equilibrium between fucked-up and feeling good.

Oh, any shrink would certainly find his condition fun.

But today was not a day for one of those highs. The depressions came crashing down quickly and suddenly, with little to absolutely no warning. You know how you're supposed to slowly wane off of a drug, so that the impact of stopping it doesn't feel that bad? Well his messed-up mind didn't give him that opportunity. He would just be in the middle of dinner, or waiting in the queue at the store, or he would just wake up one morning and be confronted with that same feeling.

It was the highs that made it worth it, really. Sure, he'd run into problems with people in the past, a lot of problems, mostly from the aggression that came with the thrill, but that was just a pithy price to pay, really. After all, all of us living in this miserable world were bound to feel insignificant and pathetic at some point, so why not take advantage of the helpless feeling of grandiosity if you had it? It was pretty damned warped logic, if you asked him, but, hey, whatever gets you through the day, they say.

But the highs certainly didn't feel worth it right now. There he was, knees smashed together, his body curled in on itself, a tangle of blankets- which were never warm enough at times like this- laying over his limp body. His hands were pale in the early morning light streaming through his window, which seemed far too bright despite the cloud-filtered gray barely making it past his blinds. He felt his hair splayed out around his head, unbrushed and tangled from a neglect of person hygiene- that was a side effect too.

The numbers on his alarm clock silently flashed on the second, as they always did. He could hear the sidewalk clicking outside of his window, as it always did. He could hear the flits of conversations as early-morning pedestrians passed by, leading their lives without being incapacitated, like he was. He heard his heating unit buzzing faintly in the background, the buzz sounding more like a hallow knock since he hadn't gotten it serviced in a while.

His lips were chapped- dry and scraping against each other whenever Lukas pursed his lips, but that certainly didn't spur him to move. He always found it particularly hard to move his head from his pillow, and not in the way that most people didn't like to get out of bed, it was that he couldn't.

He hated it, really.

But just who could he tell that to? He hadn't had anyone in some time. No family, no friends. He was alone in this, with only walls as spectators. At least they never criticized him.

He stayed in that same position, his thighs stuck together, his knees pulled up to his chest, for some time. How long, he couldn't exactly be sure. It wasn't like he had somewhere important to be. No need to join the pedestrians on the sidewalk, no motivation to go and talk to women and men alike as the heels of their shoes clicked on the pavers. So, he stayed.