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It felt wonderful.
The feeling of carefree, weightless bliss, thoughtless euphoria that washed over Mattias's body. It was easily worth the weight of the bloodsoaked knife in his now-limp hand and the hot crimson dripping from his throat and chest, staining the freezing, white snow red. Complete relaxation, without sense of being at long last.
But it wouldn't stay. Mattias wouldn't remain dead for more than a few hours, until his tortured and exhausted body healed itself just enough to painstakingly drag him back into reality.
The sense of feeling slowly crept back into the Dane's corpse, like cold descending after a spring sundown, a reminder that winter was never truly gone. His heavy eyes flitted open as his lungs and heart started up once more.
He was alive again, back to the painful and exhausting struggle of being a Nation. He'd been around so long, all he wanted was rest. So this was what he'd resorted to- killing himself, over and over again, when things got bad. Right now, things were particularly bad- protesters being shot in the streets, a government gradually corrupting itself, and there wasn't enough money to go around. It was draining him of both his physical and mental stability, making him anxious and depressed and paranoid and insomniac. He played around with different ways to die, trying to find one that kept him under the longest. He'd found that it was simply stabbing himself that seemed to work best- and even though it hurt the most, he knew he deserved the pain.
That was how he got here, the middle of a field at three in the morning, covered in blood and frozen to his core with snowflakes swirling around him under a moon shrouded in thick, dark stormclouds. All alone, and, he realized, afraid. If he couldn't have deeath then he wanted comfort- particularly from a certain Norwegian man. Said Norwegian man was the only person who truly loved him, would do anything for him, and yet had to put up with his little stunts. It was a surprise he still wanted Mattias around after all this time. But he loved him.
That was the only thing that drove Mattias to stand, his legs trembling beneath him, as he clumsily wiped the blood and snow from his crystal-blue eyes. He attempted to brush some of the loose snow off of his dark gray jacket, and to ignore the sickly feeling of half-frozen blood that covered his body, mingling with powdery snow and grime as he forced himself to turn to what he prayed was where he'd come from, to go crawling back to Lukas.
It was shameful, but what did he have to lose, anyway? He already felt guilty about consuming so much of his time and energy. And if he was turned away… Well, at least he still had the knife.
Lukas couldn't sleep. He kept waking up every half hour, tossing and turning and trying to ignore the noise of the snowstorm outside. It wasn't until half past three that he noticed Mattias wasn't next to him.
Immediately, he knew what was going on and it made him feel sick. It had happened before, and it meant that he'd failed yet again to keep Mattias happy. Or at least, hopeful. Failed to provide competent support, a good enough shoulder to lean on, a place Mattias felt loved enough to not punish himself for what was happining in his country.
Lukas wondered when the Dane had left, where he was, if he planned on coming back. He hoped so. Maybe he could have another chance at being the person Mattias needed.
Realizing he wasn't going to be able to sleep at this point, Lukas slid out of bed and decided to make some tea, check the fire, and pray that Mattias returned. He opened the door to the bedroom and stepped out into the darkened hall. He didn't bother turning on a light, for he was confident he knew his way around the old house like the back of his hand, even in near-complete darkness. As he passed the bathroom, he ducked inside it momentarily to grab a roll of bandages and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, in case they were necessary when (or perhaps, if) Mattias came back- Nations healed quickly, but not that quickly.
Items in hand, Lukas made his was downstairs, where the remnants of a fire glowed in the fireplace and casted odd shadows across the room. He set the medical supplies on the kitchen counter before walkingover to it and using a poker to stir it up a bit. Beside the fireplace was a small pile of logs, the largerst of which he tossed onto the embers to hopefully burn for a while and keep the house heated in the frozen winter night.
It wasn't long after he'd put water on the stove for tea and sat on the couch to wait for it to boil when there was a faint knock at the door. Immediately, he was at the door, trying to controllably open it without throwing it open to the wind and snow.
There stood Mattias, covered in snow and blood with tears spilling from his eyes. As soon as he saw Lukas he fell to his knees, sobbing. "Lukas- I- I'm sorry- please, let me back, I- I won't do it again I promise-"
The knife in his hand fell to the snow, forgotten as Lukas took his lover's hands and pulled him to his feet and into a hug. "Mattias," The Norwegian cried in relief. "You came back."
"Of course I came back. I- I need you." Mattias held him even tighter, cold, wounded, and afraid, but at least he was no longer alone. He knew it would be a near-impossible promise to keep but he didn't care. He'd make any promise if it meant Lukas would keep him despite everything.
After plling the Dane inside, Lukas shut the door and immediately turned his attention to caring for him, helping him remove the frozen clothes. He bit his lip as he surveyed the stab wounds carefully before ordering Mattias, "Go warm up by the fire, I'll get dry clothes."
Mattias nodded and found a blanket draped over the back of the couch, wrapping himself in the thick, soft fabric and sitting down in front of the deliciously warm fire as the feeling returned to his hands and feet while Lukas vanished upstairs temporarily.
Once the Norwegian returned, he handed Mattias a stack of clothes and was about to join him by the fire when the shrill whistle of a teakettle interrupted him. He hurried to the kitchen and was gone momentarily before coming back with two cups of herbal tea. He gave one to Mattias when he'd finished changing his clothes, into fluffy pajamas, and sat beside him to drink it.
Mattias sighed and rested his head on his lover's shoulder, his body having finally returned to a stable temperature. The tea was nice, but not as nice as returning to safety and warmth. Lukas's free hand softly combed through Mattias's messy blonde hair, gently removing little bits of ice. He was glad Mattias was in an okay condition mentally and not hysterical and angry, like some of the previous times. Once, when Lukas had tried to calm him down, he'd thrown a glass at him, and injured him. Since then, the Dane treated him like he was made of china, seemingly terrified of ever harming him again.
"We should take care of your wounds," Lukas remarked, setting his empty teacup off to the side and going to retrieve the bandages and hydrogen peroxide. Mattias stood, pulled off his shirt in anticipation of the necessary treatment, and headed for the kitchen as well, not wanting to be away from him for any amount of time after all that had happened.
Lukas motioned for Mattias to sit on the counter as he flicked on a lightswitch to properly assess the injuries before grabbing a rag and pouring some of the hydrogen peroxide onto it. "Brace yourself," He warned, Mattias nodding and gritting his teeth as the rag was pressed to the cut at his throat. It stung like hell and bubbled up, hissing as it dissolved the bacteria in the cut. There was a lot of it, too- it was almost five minutes before the fizzing sting subsided. There were still several various wounds in his chest, which were each taken care of in turn by Lukas's gentle hand before he bandaged them up.
"Feel better?" Lukas asked.
"…Yeah." Mattias exhaled, tugging his shirt back on and sliding off of the marble counter, heading back to the living room with Lukas. He wrapped himself back up in the blanket and noticed the Norwegian motioning for him to join him on the couch. He gladly did so, plopping down next to him and letting him under the blanket as well.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you," Lukas apologized quietly, hugging Mattias. "You needed me."
"It's not your fault. You couldn't have known." Mattias swallowed thickly and tried to fight back tears. He didn't even know why he needed to cry, maybe because he was just so overwhelmed, maybe because he finally felt safe enough to release the emotion boiling inside him, maybe because he didn't feel completely reassured and still felt scared and hopeless. Whatever the reason, the tears fell from his eyes and he just let Lukas hold him, gently reassuring him and going back to stroking his hair.
"It will be okay. Trust me, we'll make it through together," Lukas whispered in English, before switching to some language Mattias didn't understand- likely Norwegian. Mattias's hands gently cupped Lukas's face, looking into his lilac eyes as they sparkled in the glow of the fire, before kissing him sweetly. Lukas melted into him, his hands clasping and unclasping in the Dane's hair as he closed his eyes and let himself dissolve into the man he loved. He could die happy, right then and there. Reluctantly, he broke away to breath shortly before going right back in. Mattias felt the weight in his chest lifting as he let himself forget the events of the night. Even the wind outside had died down, leaving a clear winter night, half-moon shining down onto the glittering fresh snow.
Mattias buried his face in Lukas's chest as their bodies wrapped around eachother, warm and comforting. He felt himself drifting off slowly, feeling at peace and safe and, for the time being, much more stable. Neither man stirred from their position until the glow of the fire subsided and was replaced with the glimmering golden rays of sunrise.