Frozen In Place

Chapter 2

Solitude of the mind

I do not own Hetalia

Solitude.

What a strange word. Only eight letters, yet such a massive meaning. From what Iceland rememberd, Sol meant sun in…Latin? Was that right? It felt right. So odd though, wasn't the sun supposed to be a happy thing? So why was it in such a dreary word that conveyed a feeling of emptiness in one's being, something that could easily drive any man, woman, or child into a deep state of depression that could make them think death was a better alternative?

Oh right.

It was his sunlight. The only thing that ever remained constant in this ever changing world was his solitude. Though this is what made him think he was insane. Such a dark word…why did it give him light? Wouldn't happiness be so much better? That's what people say, anyways. Is it true? Sometimes he wondered what it felt like to truly be happy, to feel the same oblivious joy he had felt as a child. That all changed though when he began to see just how much the world was ready to change without him. It was ready to move on at full speed, ready to leave him behind in the ever isolated island he called his home. Ready to just….forget him.

He gave a scoff, he was already forgotten.

Come to think of it….when was the last time he had truly been remembered? The other Nordics knew him, sure, but….did they really know him? Argh, this was giving him a head ache! As if he didn't already have one from yesterday…..

Iceland sighed as he got up out of bed and went to the bathroom. He did his everlasting routine, another thing he found to at least be somewhat of a constant in his life.

Brush his teeth.

Comb his hair.

Change into a clean uniform.

Call Norway, then hang up before he answers since he knew he'd most likely hang up in the middle of one of the other's sentences anyways.

Then….just….huh, he had nothing else to do after that. Was every morning like this? Might as well be, felt like any other morning to him.

Well, might as well go to the abandoned park he had become so found of lately.

Iceland grabbed his winter coat and slipped it on, he wasn't going to ask that little ass of a puffin if he wanted to come. He always said no anyways and besides, Iceland didn't really like him much when he was in a mood like this. He just wanted to be….alone.

No. Stop.

He knew that was a lie, he wanted to be with someone. Even if it was just awkward silence, it was still some form of company.

He sighed, great. He hates being alone yet he also hated being with others. Perhaps it was frustration. But frustration of what…?

He easily got on one of the rusted old and creaky swings of the abandoned play ground and looked around.

All the play things had become rusted and looked on the verge of breaking, save for the swing he sat upon on the moment. He wouldn't trust those monkey bars a few feet in front of him for anything, they looked as if one touch would send them toppling down. Heh, ironic. That's how he felt. He swung idly until the swing began to make even louder creaks and got off, heading to the old merry go round that seemed to be calling his name.

He spun slowly at first, just watching everything rotate around him. How was it that the world spun, yet he remained in the same place he stood on the merry go round?

He began to speed up unknowingly.

Then again, that wasn't much different from how he felt anyways. Why was it that when he reached out to others, it just….it was unnatural. That's it. He has grown too used to the solitude that was both his sun and the pain that weighed down on his shoulders. The weight of a cruel world that cast him aside so easily, that's what it was.

More speed.

The world began to get blurry, but when had it ever been clear to him? It was always just a foggy image that could twist shapes and hurt you in any possible way. It was better to be alone, you only had yourself. No one could hurt you then.

Speed once more.

He was losing control on his grip of reality, or was that just because he was on a merry go round? He couldn't tell the difference.

Creeeaaaak!

He gave a yip of surprise as the merry go round came to a sudden stop and he lost balance, falling down and hitting his head on one of the bars with a loud resonant clang.

He curled up and held the back of his head, god that hurt! For being a rusted up piece of junk, this thing still dealt major damage!

He steadily got up and looked at his gloves. No blood. Good….right?

Wait….did he really just question that? Blood was bad, blood showed pain. Blood showed hurt whenever it's distinct red stained something. So….what was that flash of disappointment he felt at not seeing the red liquid on his hands?

He sighed and just began to walk his way home, seeing as he had been spinning for what? An hour or two? He was just lucky he was too distracted to really pay attention to the dizzying rate he was spinning at.

He let his feet lead him down the boringly yet fulfilling road that led home.

Home…..

So this was his home.

An isolated little nation that was always the odd one out. Oh well, just another constant to keep his life on track right? He thought so anyways.

He opened the wooden door and sighed as his house phone rang and the annoyingly loud pich filled the air. He picked the cursed device up

"What? I was doing something."

Lies.

"Yo Icey! We're having another meeting tomorrow! Norge wanted me to tell you, though I didn't want to since you don't seem to have much fun at them anyways. Seriously. Though why'd you scream like that yesterday? Daymare? You saw Norge's fa-OW!"

Denmark was silenced as he earned another tie strangle from Norway before the phone was snatched

"Eh, little brother, just come to the meeting. Denmark is just being an idiot once more." He said before Iceland dropped the call with a sigh.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go or not. He loved the company, loved hearing their happy voices. Though it also hurt to know that they were rarely aimed at him. Sure there was Norway, but they were brothers. It was a conditional thing. At least that's what he assumed it to be. Still though….why couldn't he fit in?

The other four had blonde hair, he had silver hair. They were military clothes, his looked more like a suit. Hell, Iceland didn't even HAVE a military! He relied on Norway for that.

Then there were the eyes. There's where shades of blue, his was a striking vivid violet. They where tall, he wasn't the tallest.

They were strong, stronger than him.

They lived next to one another and he….he was miles away. He was in the lonely atlantic. Sure, he could go and talk to Svalbard. He was only an hour away by plane at most. Svalbard was never home, he constantly switched between Russia and Norway. Though he was Norway's territory, he had just gotten used to being around Russia Iceland supposed.

Heh, that was funny. Iceland couldn't understand the attachment Svalbard had to those two. Then again….when had Iceland ever really been attached to anything? Recently, anyways.

You could love and get hurt, have friends and then end up losing them, or….

You could just be alone and never lose anything.

Solitude…

What an odd word yet…..

"Solitude….that's what I am. I'm not Iceland, I am Solitude. Always have and…..happily, always will be."