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Chapter Text

Iceland hated school. 

It wasn't because he had to wake up early. That part was fine. It wasn't because school was difficult. He understood it pretty easily. It wasn'y because he didn't have any friends. He didn't need friends. 

No, it was because of the people. Specifically, the other boys. Iceland was constantly being put down because he wasn't fast, or strong, and he didn't lke sports, and it was starting to get to him.

The first six months of eighth grade had been tolerable. Just fine, even. But somehow, over winter break, something has clicked, and now it seemed that no matter how hard he tried; he could never be enough.

And now, in Januay, Iceland stared dismally at his reflection in the old bathroom mirror. He raked a comb through his ratty white hair to try and make it look decent, and smoothed out a rumple in his black t-shirt. He let out a long sigh and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes, turning from the mirror and exiting the bathroom. 

He made his way downstairs, where the faintest ways of sunlight trickled in through the windows and illumijated the dust in the air. The house was old, really old, but Iceland liked it nonetheless. It had lots of character. He packed himself a sandwich for lunch and then fried an egg for breakfast. He was sure his mother wouldn't be downstairs until late, since she worked nightshift, and his dad was off on a buisness trip. He had a lot of time to himself.

He decided to check his inbox, pulling out his phone and noticing a text message from a number he didn't recognize. He decided to check it later and scrolled through his automatically-emailed gradebook reports: mostly As, with the occasional B. 

Out of the usual, though, was a message from Austria-Hungary; the band director. Iceland played the cello and therefore wasn't even in the band class, which made it even weirder. The email explained that the middle school would be putting on a musical and needed a pit orchestra- which Icrland brushed aside. He cared very little for extracurriculars. He didn't delete the message, though, in case he did decide to do it (though the chances were slim). 

The sound of his mother's footsteps on the creaky wooden steps brought Iceland's attention away from his phone and he shoved iit into the pocket of his pants.

"Good morning," He greeted his mom. 

"Mm," She mumbled, too tired to form words just yet. "H'wd y' sleep?" 

"Fine. What about you?" He replied. 

"I hardly… last night a lady gave birth… c-section… stressful…" His mom sighed. She was fairly young, only 30 or so. Despite this, she did everything she could to support her child, even if that meant working long hours. 

His father was way older- almost 40. That was creepy. The more Iceland thought about it, the more fucked up it was. So, he avoided it at all costs.

"Well, you can come back here and sleep once you drop me off at school," Iceland remarked somewhat-cherfully. 

"Can't you drive yourself? It's not hard." His mother laughed, like a tiny bell in the morning light. 

Iceland rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you're the one who's going to get in trouble for letting a fourteen-year-old drive." He was glad his mom was feeling well enough to make jokes this early in the morning. She was usually pretty sluggish and dulll-spirited. 

Like me, Iceland thought bitterly. He had learned to accept that didn't fit into the box of society, but it still sucked. Maybe someday he would fit in. Maybe something would click and everything would just fix itself. 

Maybe. 

As Iceland entered the school, he was immediately reminded why he despised it so much. It was like as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he was hit with a wall of light and sound and people. 

He shoved his way through the clusters of students and found his locker, grabbing his pencils and binder and heading to first period- math- ten minuted before he needed to. It wasn't lke he had anything else to do. 

Upon entering the classroom, his teacher handed him a card with a blue triangle on it. "Find the desk with a matching card on it. That's your new seat." He instructed. 

The desk was far over on the left side of the room, in the middle row. It was beside the window, which Iceland didn't like. The sun came in through it and it nearly blinded him, making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else. Iceland found himself hoping for clouds. 

Slowly, other students began to filter into the room, each being given a card similar to Iceland's and finding their seats. A boy Iceland thought looked vaguely familiar sat down next to him. Iceland said nothing; it was too early for conversation with strangers. 

The boy did not pick up on this and stuck his hand out. "Hello. I'm Denmark." 

Iceland looked up from the note page he'd been reviewing and reluctantly shook Denmark's hand. "Iceland," He replied flatly. 

"Not much of a talker?" Denmark asked. 

Iceland gritted his teeth. Typical middle schooler- unable to read the most obvious of social cues. "No." 

"Okay then, I won't bother you." 

Thank god, Iceland through. He hated other people, especially talkative ones. 

The teacher was starting the lesson, about statistics. The sun was so bothersome, Iceland was surprised that Denmark didn't seem bothered. Maybe it was because he wasn't sensetive. Maybe he could handle bright lights and loud noises and big crowds of people. 

Like a normal boy.

Chapter Text

As the day dragged on, Iceland felt his energy dwindling. He almost fell asleep during multiple periods and it wasn't even lunch yet. He hardly managed to stay awake wake during social studies- and he hated to admit that it was thanks to Denmark's obnoxious jabbering. 

Speaking of Denmark, Iceland wondered why he'd suddenly changed classes. Maybe it was a number thing. 

Iceland skulked into the health classroom. He took his seat and buried his face in his arms, slouching over on the desk to doze off while the teacher rambled about why drugs were bad.

Eventually, after failing to sleep on the hard desk, Iceland asked to go to the bathroom so he could just skip the remaining fifteen minutes of class. He made his way down the long hallway at a lazy pace, trying to scrub the shadows from under his eyes with the back of his hand as he walked. 

When Iceland entered the bathroom, he expected a few joking boys or maybe an older eighth-grader vaping, but instead he found Denmark, and… wait a second. 

Denmark almist jumpted out of his skin when he noticed he was being watched. "Y-you didn't see that! Please don't tell anyone!" 

"Why?" Iceland tilted his head, intrigued. 

"Because I've had to put up with so much bullying already and-" Denmark hurriedly explained, but Iceland cut him off. "I mean why are you wearring makeup." 

"Wh- why not? Girls do all the time!" Denmark defended. 

"Yeah, but you're…" Iceland trailed off. 

"Look, I know I'm just a- a stupid little gay boy- but I just… please, don't tell anyone about this." Denmark stared down at the tile floor. 

"I… I won't." 

Denmark threw his arms around Iceland, which was automatically uncomfortable for the latter. "Thank you!" He cried before dashing out of the bathroom. 

Iceland stood there in shocked silence for a few moments before his eyes flicked to a container of lip gloss (maybe?) that Denmark had apparently left behind. He absentmindedly shoved it into one of his pockets. He'd return it later. 

Nothing else eventful happened until last-period science: Iceland's favorite class.  Today they were doing a lab test- and Iceland was honestly looking forward to it. He had always loved science, especially chemistry. 

When he entered the classroom, he blinked in the light that flooded through the wall of windows on one of the walls. It wasn't as bad as the math room, though, because parts of it were shrouded by plants of all shapes and sizes, with their branches and leaves twisting up and casting stranged shadows on the stone floor. 

The tables were set up with an assortment of test tubes, beakers, and a face-down piece of paper, along with eye protection. 

"Welcome, find an empty table and wait patiently until everyone is here," The teacher, France, instructed. Iceland did as he was told and found a station in the back of the room. 

When everyone had entered and situated themselves, France informed them, "You will have thirty-five minutes to complete the test. I will answer any questions you have unless I believe it is something you should know. When you are finished, read a book until the end of the period. Begin." She sat at the front of the lab at her desk and opened a binder full of papers before adding, "And there will be no talking." 

Iceland flipped the paper over and scanned the eight questions. It was over two basic procedures: dilution and balancing chemical equations. He was confident in both but he noticed that the person beside him was not. 

"France?" She asked. 

"Yes, Hungary?" 

"Is there anything that will happen if we mix the wrong things? Like if I mess up will I accidentally make chloroform?" 

"No." 

"Well, knowing you," Another student chimed in, "I'm sure you'll find a way to make it blow up, Hungary!" 

Laughter rippled through the classroom and Hungary blushed before turning to the paper. "Goddamnit…" She muttered. "I forgot my calculator!" 

Iceland sighed and set the test tube he'd picked up into the rack. "Here. Borrow mine." He slid it across the table to her. 

"Really? Oh my god, thanks!" Hungary smiled and picked it up, clicking at it. 

Iceland had already used it- for the dilution formula. It was a little hard to remember but he'd practiced. He rolled his eyes at Hungary's unfathomable stupidity: they were given dihydrogen monoxide (which was literally just water), sodium chloride solution (which was literally just saltwater), and vinegar. Nothing was toxic, unless it was in an absurd quantity. 

The first five questions were chemical equations. Simple math. The sixth was asking for the dilution formula, the seventh was asking the volume of the diluted solution, and the eighth was which chemical was which (the beakers were numbered, and they were provided with what they were, just not exactly which was which). 

The hardest part of the test was figuring out what was what. Vinegar was easy but it was hard to differentiate between the water and the saltwater. The only method he could think of was tasting it- and even Hungary knew better than to drink chemicals, regardless of tastiness. 

Eventually, he gave up and guessed, assigning the one that smelled faintly like the ocean as saltwater. He turned in the test and read poetry the rest of the time. He really enjoyed poetry, especially the whimsical ones by Shel Silverstein. By the time class was over, he'd finshed half the book. 

The bell rang, and Iceland hurried back to his locker. He collected his things and waited in the main lobby until his mom came to pick him up in a half-hour or so. While he was watching the activity around him, he spied Denmark on a bench not too far away. Remembering the container of lip gloss in his pocket, he figured it was best to just return it. 

Upon noticing his new arrival, Denmark's eyes brightened: it wasn't much, but it was noticed by Iceland. He was observant like that when it came to others' body language and gestures. He could also tell when someone was lying- which was certainly a useful gift. 

"Hi, Iceland." Denmark smiled. 

"Hello." Iceland replied, fishing around in his pocket and retrieving the small tube. "You left this in the bathroom. I'm here to return it." 

"Oh. Thank you." Denmark's tone fell, likely at the wretched memories of the earlier incident. He discreetly took the product and shoved it into his backpack, hardly looking at it. "And I… um… Well, just, thanks for. Not being all… Weird about that. That was the first time I wore makeup, in… well, since…" He trailed away, obviously uncomfortable. 

"Yeah, no, you're fine. It's fine. As far as I'm concerned, none of that every happened." Iceland shrugged. 

Denmark's smile returned. "Thank you." He sounded relieved. He stood up and collected his things, saying, "I need to go. I have to go to the science olympiad meeting." 

"Oh, okay. Wait, what?" Iceland asked. 

"You know. France sent out a text to everyone in the middle school about it. It's like a contest-y fair type thing, but with science. Are you going to do it?" 

"I'm not sure. I think I might, actually. I really like science," Iceland replied. He opened his messaging app on his phone to text his mom and explain that he would be at school late, and to not bother getting him for another while. 

"You totally should! I did it last year and it was really fun!" Denmark encouraged. "The meeting is in the Performing Arts Center if you're interested." 

"Yeah. I might actually." Iceland grabbed his own stuff and followed Denmark down the the halls. Maybe today wasn't as horrible as he thought it would be.

Chapter Text

The meeting went smoothly. It was just France explainng what Science Olympiad was and how it worked and what events there would be. Iceland had acquired several papers to take with him and look at later, that evening maybe. 

"You've grown," Iceland's father was saying. He looked up from the passenger side window. "Are you playing any sports? It's basketball season." 

Iceland had to be careful with his reply. He knew his dad would be internally disappointed if he said he wasn't doing basketball, and he didn't need that in his life right now. Never mind that his dad had never bothered to show up to any of his previous sporting events. He'd been on the swim team for four years, and played soccer for six. Of course,e had never been serious about either of them and was glad when he'd been permitted to quit. 

Instead of answering the question, Iceland sighed and asked, "How long will you be around for?" 

"Two days," His father grunted. "I have to go to the big city for a few weeks." 

Iceland stared out the window as the two sat in silence. He was exhausted- the day had felt so long. Even though it had only been eight hours.

As soon as Iceland got home, he dragged himself upstairs to his room and fell asleep. By the time he woke up it was dark outside and he heard his parents talking through the old floorboards, since his mom had skipped work to see her husband. He was able to pick up little snippets of conversation. It rarely interested him but it was something to do. 

They were discussing him, he realized- specifically, his lack of friends. He didn't know why it worried them so much. He was doing just fine alone. 

Perhaps he should get something to eat. But he wasn't really hungry. He wanted to be alone. Sighing, Iceland curled up in a ball and tried to fall back asleep. 

This was easier said than done. Iceland spent the next several hours tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep but somehow failing despite his exhaustion. At long last, he fell into a shallow, restless sleep but kept waking up every here and there. 

When his alarm went off at 6 am, he'd scraped together four hours of sleep. The day was going to be miserable. He begrudgingly hauled himself out of bed and threw on some clothes without really looking at them. He didn't really remember his morning rituals or the drive to school, either. 

The whole day was a hazy blur in general. He failed to comprehend anything that he was taught or told and fell asleep in almost every class. Not to mention that the choir teacher was trying to rope him into doing pit orchestra for the upcoming musical- The Sound of Music, or something.

It wasn't like he was completely opposed to the idea. He just didn't feel like committing. True, he was making an equal committment to Science Olympiad, but that was different. It was more fun than it was a burden. 

When it was lunch, Iceland wasn't hungry. Nonetheless, he wandered into the cafeteria, barely awake, and found the table he'd recently joined. It was an odd group, consisting of Denmark, his friend Finland, Finland's friend Croatia, and Croatias's lab partner and/or boyfriend, who'd introduced himself through a mouthful of chips, making it impossible to understand. 

If Denm.ark had been a lot for Iceland to handle, Croatia was far worse, she was gossipy and loud and had alaugh that reminded him of windshield wipers in desperate need of oil. But it wasn't so bad. It turned out that he and Finland actually had a lot of classes together and they'd never met because they both kept to themselves in the back of the room. 

Finland played the flute, and was doing pit for the musical. This surprised Iceland quite a bit, because every flautist he'd ever met was a snob who believed they should be in charge of the entire fucking universe. But Finland was different. He wasn't loud or stupid or rude and to be honest, Iceland actually found him to be very pleasant. 

After school, Finland and Iceland chatted a little about their days. Finland was, as it turned out, a total genius (although he'd never say it). Despite this, he'd quickly declinded Iceland's proposal to join the Science Olympiad team. "I don't like the competition." 

"I'm not in it for the competition. I'm in it because I like science. You're good at it, you should do it." Iceland shrugged. 

Finland was quiet for a moment before changing the subject. "Are you doing pit?" 

Iceland shook his head. "I'm not much good at music."

"What instrument?" 

"Cello." 

"Hmm…" Finland looked deep in thought. "What if," He proposed, "we make a deal: I'll join Science Olympiad, and you'll join pit." 

Iceland thought for a while. What was the harm? Even the ban director already wanted him to do it, and Finland would help grow the (currently very small) science team.

"Alright," He said finally. "Deal."

Chapter Text

"Fuck!" 

Iceland's eyes rolled to the heavens as he heard the sound of a beaker shattering from the general direction of the lab. It had been twenty minutes and it was already obvious that Ukraine was going to be an… interesting addition to the team. He'd already glued his fingers together, set a paper towel on fire, and now he'd dropped a beaker--which, from what he was overhearing now, had been full of bleach. 

It had been twenty. Minutes. 

France hurried from her desk at the front of the science classroom into the adjoining lab, looking flustered from the frenzy of activity going on in the two rooms. Iceland honestly had no idea how she wasn't losing her mind. Or even how six students could cause so much chaos. 

The team they'd scrounged up so far was him, Finland, Ukraine, Denmark, Kazakhstan, and Peru. From the looks of it, everyone was enjoying what they were doing-- they were just, doing it very loudly. 

Ukraine and Peru were in the lab, testing out pH papers. Kazakhstan was teaching Finland how to light a Bunsen burner, and Denmark was flipping through a stack of event detail papers. Iceland himself waa starting a notesheet on natural toxins for one of his four events. 

There was one about toxins, one for maps, one for fossils, and one for physiology. He felt varying degrees of interest for them all but was glad he had en excuse to learn a bunch of lab skills that he probably wouldn't need until high school. 

"Is this the science olympiad room?" Someone asked from the door. Iceland looked up to see Romania (whose fashion sense he secretly admired), with a look of curiosity on her face. She was wearing a frilly white blouse with a black corset and equally frilly skirt, black flats, and several silver chain necklaces. It was simple and elegant.

France hurried over, a broom still in her hand. "It is!" 

Romania smiled. "I'm sorry I missed thes meeting… is it still okay if I join?" She asked as she tucked a stray lock of curly black hair behind her ear. 

"Of course! We meet twice a week for an hour after school for five weeks, and then we go to the event, which will be held at another school. We compete in mini-events in different categories and we're scored by how we perform," France explained. 

"What events are there?" 

"All kinds-- some of the ones left are on wind, optics, weather, and powder identification, if any of those interest you," France lead Romania to the back of the room, to a table that was more paper than table. 

Iceland was so focused on the conversation he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a shrill screech from the lab. 

"SPIIIIDERRRR!!!"

It was unmistakably Denmark, who scrambled into the classroom and cowered in a corner. "GET IT AWAAAY FROM MEEE!" 

Romania laughed, like a birdsong on a bleak winter's day, and bent down to look at the tiny arachnid scuttling across the floor. She reached down and let it crawl onto her hand, holding it up and giggling. "Aww, you're just a cute little baby! You're a common brown spider, aren't you," She sounded like she was talking to a baby. 

Denmark's eyes were wide. "It's a malevolent hellspawn," He breathed. "It'll kill you!" 

Romania ignored him and carried the baby spider over to the window, opening it and setting the critter on a nearby bush. "There you go, outside where you belong!" She chimed. 

Iceland turned to Denmark, who shakily stood up and looked around warily. "Is it gone?" 

Iceland nodded and returned to the notes. 

"France, I glued my fingers together!" 

"Again?" 

"…Yeah…" 

France sighed and grabbed a bottle of acetone, heading for the lab once more. 

Maniacle laughter sounded from the lab, and Iceland stood up to see who it was. Kazakhstan was grinning satanically and holding a small bottle. 

"I," He declared, "am holdinf FLESH-CORRODING ACID!" 

Finland facepalmed and took to bottle from him. "Give me that. Come on, let's test these metals." He motioned to several test tubes with flakes of metal in them. 

"Hey, Iceland!" Romania's sweet voice came from behind him. 

"Uh, hey," He mumbled, turning to face her but failing to meet her shimmering gaze. 

"Would you be interested in doing meteorology with me?" She asked, perhaps a little shysly. 

"Oh. Uh, yeah! That's fine," Iceland stammered. He inhaled deeply, trying to make his heart slow down a little. 

"Great! Here are the information papers," She told him as she handed over a few sheets of paper. 

"O-okay. I'll put these with the others." 

"Okay! When you're done, would you teach me how to do chromatography? It says I need to know that for forensics…" She asked. 

"Of course."