Means Of Communication

Oh, it's Christmas so we stopped
Were it not for the tick of the clock
And the spinning of the Earth in space
We could always be this way
And as we sleep at the fall of the day

It's Christmas again.

Norway alway does something every Christmas. As soon as the sky is dark, and Iceland is asleep, he always do the same thing.

He never gets tired of it.

And he knows that he would never get tired of doing it, because it's like a promise to himself.

It's a moment to free himself.

He could admit everything about his emotion- everything that he have to restrain to stay tough.

And he would always admit that he loves him.

He misses Denmark; He used to call Norway everyday, every night. But, he guess, the Dane grew tired. Sure, he still smiles at him; approach him at the World Summit.

But he never called that often again, or even text him.

So every Christmas, no matter how ridiculous he thought of what he was doing, he can't help but continue.

Looking out the window, he saw the moon up above, and the Christmas lights from the shops and streets giving off faint colors to the dark sky, making it look alive. He threw the cans, and it perfectly draped over the tree because of the string that connected it to the cans he now have in his hands.

Then he started speaking into them, can by can.

"Denmark?" He felt really stupid, no matter how many years he have already been doing this. "I miss you." He felt his heart thudding loudly.

"Could you come back...? I.. I love you."

And while he stare at the sky embedded with different, cheery colors for a while, he reacieved a thing he had always wanted, but never expected.

"I'm back, Norge."

He must be an idiot, but he have accepted that fact long ago, you know?

He is, after all, the one and only Denmark.

And, well, you know him.

That's why he have no idea why he was walking down the streets of Norway, admiring the lights that lightened up the cheery shops, and people who were exchanging smiles.

He felt a soft smile touch his own face.

He looked up to the sky.

Colors.

"Norway's house isn't far from here..."

He can't explain what he felt when he reached his destination.

The tree that he would always remember is still standing there, and cans were hanging down the branches.

And he heard the voice of the person he loves with all of his existence.

The christmas lights that resided at the cheery streets was faintly visible in the fields, and the snow was gently falling down.

Norway's voice softly enveloped his being as he walked around the tree.

"Denmark?" He paused. "I miss you." He felt his heart beating rapidly, as he continue listening, and his hand took one of the cans that were hanging in front of him.

"Could you come back...? I.." There seems to be a pause, and Denmark held his breath.

"I love you."

Norway place his hands over his mouth.

It's Denmark.

He could recognize that voice, anytime and anywhere.

Before his mind could even register what he was doing, he ran down, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to bang the door.

As he left the house, he felt the soft and comforting feeling of the snow beneath his feet.

He ran towards the tree, desperately hoping to see Denmark.

And as he was cathching his breath, warm arms engulfed him.

The hug was not desperate; it was not agressive and bone-crashing.

It was tight, but warm. He felt all desperation, and all yearning go away.

"This isn't a dream, isn't it?"
The sentence slipped out of his mouth, and Denmark's soft laugh wafted through his ears as he blushed. It sounded like a lullaby putting him to sleep.

His warm breath tickled his neck, and he was immediately convinced that it was not a dream.

"I love you, Norge," Denmark bried his face on Norway's face. "And no, it's not a dream."

'It's real,' Norway mused, as he hugged the person he have always longed for and loved for so many years now.

He didn't mind that he was barefooted.

He didn't mind that when he finally felt the cold, and Denmark placed his coat over him, momentarily breaking the hug.

All that mattered is that they were both there, under the tree, with the colors that radiates gladness being reflected by the cans that he had used to reach him.

It was real, and nothing else really matters anymore.

In fact forget the entire year
don't reflect just pretend and you won't feel scared
you won't feel a thing
'cause it's all been tucked away

A/N:

It's almost Christmas~

And yeah, a part of this is supposed to be in "Where Is The Sun Now?" , but I thought that it'll be better if it's a One-Shot. I know I failed miserably, no need to rub it in my face. ;w;

I don't own APH and the "It's Christmas So We'll Stop" lyrics.