'ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

8

"How are you feeling this morning?" Lukas asked, his surprise not even showing when Mathias traipsed into the room after a day of isolating himself from everyone.

The Dane rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. "Just a bit sore. You?"

"Fine," Norway said.

He promptly returned to his coffee and book, unsure if he should be giving Denmark the silent treatment or not. Sure, he wasn't one to talk to a huge extent anyway, but now he was questioning if he should at all. Mathias had said nothing. He hadn't spoken to any of the other Nordics for however long, yet had the audacity to suddenly appear with a great big grin on his face!

"Norge? Is everything alright?" Denmark asked. He knew something was wrong almost immediately, and was now increasingly worried. "You're not still sick are you?"

Lukas merely scoffed and continued to drink and read, not looking up to acknowledge the Dane. At that moment, Iceland wandered into the room, and nearly audibly exclaimed his shock when he saw Denmark. He had to bite his tongue to stay quiet, and that hurt.

"Morning, Ice," Mathias greeted, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from Lukas. "Sleep well?"

"Kinda," Emil said after collecting himself. "It was a windy night."

"Too many beans?"

Denmark's attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. Iceland just looked at him blankly for a second before vacating to the kitchen to fix himself his own cup of coffee, stifling a groan, and Norway flicked the page of his book with care. Mathias didn't know what to do. Were they mad at him for something? No. Why would they be? He'd been suffering, more so than anyone else, so he'd done nothing wrong . . . Right?

"Oh, good morning, Denmark!" a cheery voice said as its owner came down the stairs, seemingly tired. "I was not expecting to see you up at this time!"

Denmark smiled at Finland. At least someone was happy to see him.

"Yeah, well, my head no longer feels ready to explode and the voices have stopped talking," he replied/ "It made sense to let you guys know that I'm alive still."

"V-Voices?" Tino repeated anxiously. "What do you mean?"

"Meh, I was probably just dreaming that up," Mathias said with a shrug. "No biggie."

"Right . . . No biggie . . ."

"On the other hand, I see you're not sneezing anymore!" Mathias beamed, thankful that he could change the subject as quickly as possible. "Now that is a biggie!"

"That's down to Berwald," Finland humbly smiled as he could feel blood rushing to his cheeks in an awkward display. "He looked after me . . ."

As if on cue, Sweden came down the stairs and greeted Denmark with a small, short and sweet nod before disappearing into the kitchen, joining Iceland. Finland watched him go, his smile gradually, slightly growing smaller, and he turned back to Denmark.

"So, what do you want to do today? I feel like all five of us need to do something together," he said. "It's almost like we've become distanced from each other recently . . ."

While Denmark and Finland continued their conversation and Norway proceeded to ignore everyone, Sweden and Iceland stood in an amiable silence in the kitchen. They were both feeling extremely relieved that everyone was feeling a bit better, if not completely fine, and we're silently happy that they didn't have so much responsibility and pressure now resting on their shoulders between them.

Emil lifted his phone from his pocket and decided it was a good time to text Ludwig and inform of how the others were all doing.

"N, D and F have improved a lot. 2 days for final recovery and they'll be fine," he typed, and pressed the send button swiftly.

He wasn't all that surprised that he received a reply with thirty seconds. He didn't doubt that Ludwig had had little sleep while he tried to organise and handle all of the information regarding affecting countries, alongside trying to monitor those he was meant to be looking after with Hungary. He needed a long break once this whole fiasco blew over, Emil decided.

The text read: "Glad to hear it. Keep me posted over the next 2 days just in case, but most of the others seem to be improving somewhat too."

Emil gave a quick reply and put his phone away. If other nations were getting better, he wasn't sure if he could actually feel any more relieved! It had only been a few days since the outbreak and since the whole world had been on standby, and now it turned out that no matter what the ailments were, it was all subsiding without a sign of consequence. It was the best news they'd had in a while!

"Hopefully that's it now," he said, turning to look at Berwald with a light sigh. "No more sneezing, coughing or headaches. All of Europe is apparently beating the illness."

The Swede hummed. "That's good news."

"Yeah, Germany said to keep him posted and to keep monitoring, but I think everyone will be fine," Emil continued. "I just hope that there aren't any long-lasting effects . . ."

"They'll be fine," Berwald responded, "and we will look after them if things get worse again."

Emil shuddered on the inside. He didn't want things to get worse, not again. He wasn't prepared to see his closest friends and brother relapse, especially after the last day or so had been so painful physically and emotionally for all of them. Emil had genuinely thought that Lukas was going to cough up his internal organs the night before, and he had to stay up to try and keep him settled and comfortable, hence the occasional yawn that escaped the Icelandic's mouth.

What he didn't like, however, as how silent Mathias had been. He wasn't angry, like Lukas seemed to be (something he put down to a lack of attention, and he rolled his eyes once more), but he was more concerned for him and his well-being. Denmark seemed to have been suffering the most, isolating himself in such a way . . . 

"They'll be fine, Ice. You don't have to worry."

Emil frowned. "Am I seriously that readable?"

"Like a book," Berwald replied.

Emil merely hummed in a slight frustration, and stayed still as Sweden left the kitchen upon hearing a single sneeze followed by two bouts of amiable laughter. He looked to the floor. He wasn't an open book, he didn't worry . . .

'I just care . . .'