Summary: They had made a promise a long time ago. It was a promise which was broken. But something else had broken as well. Reminiscing, the endless midnight rain continued to pour down on him as he waited for the promise to be restored. NorIce.

Silhouette of Words

Pitter patter, splat. Huge droplets of rain had landed on the bridge of his nose again as the wind blew them from his umbrella onto his face. Shaking it off, he continued to squint; looking into the dark. There was nothing. No light, no ship.

No Norway.

The rain continued to fall heavier still. Fidgeting restlessly and clutching his coat tighter to his body, he waited. He had been here every day and night. Today, there's no moon, no stars. Lightning struck down; a ghastly bone-like crooked line that slid through the darkness - shattering it for a few seconds. Looking up momentarily from staring into the sea he can barely make out, he peered at the light warily as it faded away. Feeling a sudden pang in his chest, he clutched his heart. Once again he was painfully reminded that he was alone; that he was living off false hopes. He's the single lightening, flaring up then fading away into nothingness. Isolated from everyone – a lone island in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by the sea. Just a solitary figure standing in a vast jagged land that's being pelted with bitter rain. Heart held tight by isolation. This isolation that's driving him crazy.

No meaning.

Shivering, he dropped his umbrella and knelt down, curling up into a ball. Shaking from side to side, he muttered, shakily, false comforts to himself. But it was futile. He knew. He always knew. But he can't bear to confront the truth. Really…How long ago was it had they last seen each other? Warped back into a sea of memories, he lost track of his surroundings. The rain continued to fall.

Snowflakes fluttered down softly, melting slowly on his pale silver hair.

"Iceland, if you stay out too long, you'd freeze," came a cool, steady voice.

Turning around partially, the silver haired boy peered hesitantly at the taller figure that had spoken.

"…Nei," the small boy replied, words half caught in his mouth; a soft muttering.

"Iceland," he said again, patient, "Come over here now."

The boy shook his head and dashed out, further away from the wooden cottage the figure stood in front of, through the plain of snow. Out across that field of snow and into the depths of the white glossed forest. The sun glowed warmly, though prevailing winds tossed the warmth away so only a light glow fell upon the landscape. The young teen dashed after the child, away from this warmth, and into the chilly shadows of the woods.

"Iceland! Come back. Now."

Muffled footsteps chased each other; circles of imprints on the shadow covered snow. The seriousness of the older figure contrasted with the soft voice of the boy, who laughed lightly as his pursuer and repeatedly answered 'Nei'.

"I'll do whatever you want. Just come back," the teen said, tired of running, of playing this game of hide and seek, of chase and dash.

"Whatever?" came the feeble, slightly confused voice of the youth.

"Yes, whatever. Now come over here," came the reply.

Hesitantly, as if unsure of this unexpected promise, the young boy walked out from behind a large tree he had hidden behind. The boy had hidden the moment his pursuer had stopped chasing after him. Locking eyes, the two reached an understanding: There were no lies; it's a promise. Nodding slowly, the teen bent down and spread out him arms, inviting an embrace. Smiling widely for the first time, the boy dashed toward him. Clinging together, they spun in circles – the teen's eyes twinkling, the child laughing as he was swirled around; feet off the ground and dangling in the air. Carefully, the teen slowed down the pace of their twirling and came to a graceful stop, letting the child land lightly onto the snow again.

"Well, what is it that you want, then?"

"For you to stay forever with me, Norway!" came the jubilant reply.

"Aren't I already?" Norway replied.

"But I need you to promise!" the boy said, grinning and looking up at his brother figure, who was smiling, a rare phenomenon.

"I promise."

Ruffling Iceland's head, Norway took his hand and the two walked back into the hazy glow of sunlight, out into the open field of snow, and back toward the cottage. Their home.

Or what had been their home.

No warmth.

Now fully drenched in midnight rain, he shivered. Wiping his teary face, though quite useless as rain and tears merged and drenched him whole, he sobbed incoherently. Sniffing with difficulty with every breath taken in-between sobs, he continued his reminiscence of the past that seemed to him like a dream now.

"Norway, where are you going?" said a sharp voice, a sudden burst of strength behind it that was unnatural of the teen.

Smiling ruefully, Norway turned partially toward the speaker and mouthed out 'I'm sorry'.

"No! You can't leave. You promised. Y-you said you would stay with me f-forever!" the teen replied; voice breaking and giving away to his desperation.

Shaking his head, Norway whispered, 'Goodbye, Iceland'.

"T'm t' go," came a stoic, deep voice. A tall, strongly built man appeared in front of the door. He held out his hand, beckoning for Norway to take it and follow him.

"Norway…" Iceland murmured, tears forming in his eyes, "Don't leave…"

'You'll do fine without me. We'll both be happy.' Norway said silently. He smiled slightly.

But Iceland knew it was just a facade. Norway didn't want his parting image to be of sorrow. Even in defeat, he held onto his pride.

"I'll wait for you," Iceland said, attempting to return the smile but only managing a contorted, agonized grin.

Norway took hold of the tall man's hand and walked out the door. Out of Iceland's life. When both were gone, Iceland collapsed into fitful bawling. The time under Denmark's rule was nothing compared to this; Iceland was in agony. Then, they had at least been able to visit each other from time to time. Now they were on separate sides. Desperation took its name at its fullest that day, as did loneliness, betrayal, and hopelessness. From then on, he was a husk of his previous self, lacking in the joy he had held in the past.

Stinging sharp rain continued to pelt down onto his unprotected back. Feeling the flood of emotions of that departure anew, Iceland tearfully wailed and fell to his side unceremoniously. Not caring about the muddy snow seeping into his coat and freezing his body. Death does not come easily for them, and he needed the pain to keep him awake. Because he was still waiting, lies implemented from his dying soul into his mind. Wishing, always, he had said more back then. The unspoken words.

'What could have been, I would never know.'

A faint sound of flapping wings momentarily distracted him from his thoughts. Landing in front of his slush covered face, his puffin tilted his head and nudged his forehead. Groaning, he flipped over, away from his puffin. Undaunted, his puffin flew over his slumped body and faced him again. Bending down, his puffin edged near his face and sat down – a weak flickering warmth. Crying harder, Iceland nudged his puffin in gratitude. At least his puffin hasn't left him. Unlike him. Turning his face so that he faced the night sky, he stared into the rain. Closing his eyes after some rain had fallen into his eyes, he decided to sing the song Norway always sang back then when he couldn't sleep. The lullaby.

"Iceland, go to sleep."

"I can't. I don't want to sleep."

Sighing, Norway said, "I'll sing you the lullaby. When I'm done, go to sleep."

Pulling his blanket upwards to cover his face save for his eyes, Iceland nodded; hiding his grin from view.

Taking hold of Iceland's small childish hands and sitting down on the side of the bed, Norway sang softly, but melodically. It was magical. Iceland's eyes became droopy as Norway went past the halfway mark of the song, and by the time he was done, Iceland was asleep. Smiling softly to himself, though barely, Norway lightly kissed the top of Iceland's forehead and blew out the candle light, casting a dreamy night air into the room; lit by the moonlight flowing from the window. Getting into the bed himself, Norway ruffled Iceland's hair and fell asleep beside him. Never letting go of his delicate hands.

He sang. He sang until his voice because hoarse and cracked. The rain had stopped, and what remained was half melted and mucky ice slush. It soaked into his clothes, clinging to him. It was freezing cold and yet sticky. But he never noticed; he didn't feel anything but the cracks in his heart. His voice coming down to more or less whispers and gasps and strained from constant use, he stopped singing. Raising his frostbitten hands, shakily, he grasped for the slowly rising sun as the morning came. Vision blurred, senses numbed, he murmured those words he wished he had said a long time ago.

"I love you…"

"…I've loved you and will always continue to love you…"

"I'll wait even if it takes forever."

He fainted.

In the far distance, a silhouette of a ship emerged.