Angst So Hard

Taking a Chance [Denmark/Reader]

-22 ◊ Feb ◊ 2017-

The beginning of my Hetalia series called “Taking a Chance.” These ficlets are based off of my travels to the countries. So far, I only plan to write about the countries I’ve been to. And the events in this story, while written in Reader format, most of these events (including the background story) did happen to me.

While I am very much aware that fans have dubbed Denmark with the human name, “Mathias Køhler,” I am going with the surname “Densen.”

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You groaned as you made your way out of the airport terminal, awkwardly strolling along despite the stiffness in your legs. Behind you rolled your carry-on, perfectly 55cm x 40cm x 23 cm, and weighing a little under 10kg. On your back was a bright red Hershel backpack with a silvery white outline and in your left hand was the camera bag for your Canon EOS 70D.

It had been a long and uncomfortable flight, spent squished in the middle seat of a side row, and having gotten no sleep because of the crying children on the plane. But you’d pushed aside your annoyance because you were finally getting out of your home country. Too true, you were perhaps a bit young to be traveling alone, especially at the barely bloomed age of 19, but you’d thirsted for this opportunity since you were young.

The trip was quite sudden, the tickets had been under $500 USD, a great deal especially when one took in the fact that you would be traveling when weather in Denmark would be most pleasant. And you’d begged your parents to let you go. It wouldn’t be your first time begging to go to another country, but your previous attempts had ended in tears, with your mother agreeing that you should go out and see the world as she did when she was your age, and your father, vehemently refusing to let you out of the country and insisting that you should wait until you were married and had a job before traveling. You’d cried because it was an uphill battle when it came to your father, who was content keeping you almost locked up and under his control until he gave you away. And when, finally, you were able to get both of your parents to agree, you wasted no time to buy the plane tickets and arrange for accommodations.

It was only eight days in Copenhagen, but for you, it wasn’t just a vacation. You took a deep breath and grinned as you made your way through customs, the bulletproof glass doors sliding shut behind as security waved you through with a smile. “This was freedom.”

Despite being in university, which was meant to promote independence in its students, most young adults your age knew nothing of independence, content with letting their parents cook food for them, clean for them, and do their laundry for them. Yet they fancied themselves independent. No, you couldn’t consider living in a university dorm as being independent. For you, traveling abroad and being self dependent in a country that wasn’t your own was the ultimate test of independence.

You wanted to travel to many countries, but why did you pick Denmark?

“Excuse me?” You politely strolled up towards one of the airport workers with a tilt of your head and a peaceful smile, “I need to get to Amagerbro, would you happen to know where I should go for the metro?”

The man smiled, looking to be only a few years older than you before pointing towards an exit down the crowded main entrance, “You should take the M2 to Amagerbro, six stops away.” Then, the man pointed towards a row of kiosks behind you, “You can buy metro tickets at the kiosks if you have Danish krones or an international credit card.”

“Okay, thank you very much!” You thanked with a smile before quickly scurrying towards the kiosk, smiling back as the man bid you a pleasant stay in Copenhagen. Yes, one of the reasons for choosing Denmark was that the people here spoke English quite well, which meant it was easy to communicate with the locals. Another reason was the nice weather, currently 23 degrees Celsius.

You’d had little to no trouble buying the two zone ticket, and had boarded the metro train just in time before the doors shut. The cleanliness of the metro impressed you, much cleaner than the trains in the city back home. The design was sleek, the train wasn’t longer than 3 carts, and it wasn’t piloted by anyone. “How efficient.” You muttered before pulling out the folded papers in your jacket pocket.

You were staying in the Amagerbro district in Copenhagen in an apartment that you rented on Airbnb. One condition that your parents had set for you was that you had to try and save as much money as possible, and as a result, it was definitely out of the question for you to live out of a hotel. Though, honestly, sharing an apartment with other people didn’t scare you in the least. It was so similar to living out of the dorms, though you had no idea who you were sharing the apartment with. You’d been in contact with the owner, a nice man in his late 30s who worked at the Royal Danish Theatre, but he’d said that while he lived out of the apartment some days, the only person you would be seeing would be whoever was renting the other room in the apartment.

After getting off the metro, dragging your luggage behind you with a yawn, you carefully navigated the streets until you found the apartment building you were staying at. Picking up the keys from the owner of the cafe at the corner of the block, you made your way into the old building and up four flights of stairs. Once at the topmost floor, you inserted the key into the lock on the right door and made your way into your temporary living quarters. Quite frankly, while the building and apartment was old, it gave off this cute rustic feeling, making you feel at home instantly. Closing the door behind you, you slowly and quietly walked down the hall and into the first door on the left, where your room was. The size of the room was similar to your room back home and the window, stretching over five feet tall, overlooked the street below.

A small clamor came from down the hall, making you wince and turn, abandoning your luggage in the room as you took a glance out of the room door just in time to see a tall young man with messy blonde hair skid out of the door located down the hall and stop.

“Handsome” and “blue eyes,” were the first words that popped into your head as you blinked owlishly at each other with a hallway separating you two.

The guy looked a few years older than you, but he was tall. Your eyes gleamed subtly. You loved tall men. His eyes wandered over you, and yours over him, the both of you silent for a full minute before you decided to fully walk out from the room instead of simply poking your head out.

“Um… Hej?” For whatever reason, your ability for decent human interaction disappeared when you opened your mouth, resulting in the greeting in the form of an unsure question in a language that you knew bits and pieces of. You blanched before turning red, “Shit that was too informal.” you turned more red when you realized that you spoke that out loud, “Shit I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You promptly shut your mouth before slowly retreating back into the room while averting your eyes, “I’ll just… go back into the room now… “

The entire time your made an embarrassment out of yourself, the man seemed to just blink at you, but now, as you hurried to awkwardly leave his company, a large grin seemed to split his face as he covered the length of the hallway in a few strolls, “Hvad hedder du?”

You froze, your brain trying to process the minimal Danish that you taught yourself, turning to face the guy, you had to tilt your head up to look at him before you spoke in your terrible pronunciation, “J-jeg hedder Y/N… U-unskuld? Jeg taler ikke dansk…”

The man blinked before fawning over your attempt at speaking Danish, “Wow! You’re Danish isn’t bad! Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Mathias.” The excited blonde offered a hand, which you took before he shook it vigorously.

As Mathias shook your hand, you kind of stared blankly, reminded of a child who didn’t know how to properly shake hands. I wonder when he’ll realize that people don’t shake hands this long. You thought to yourself as your arm went lax, your entire limp limb shaking with the motion. Honestly, Mathias seemed really friendly, so you suddenly spoke up, “Uh. I don’t know much about Danish culture, but I was told that you guys like to drink here? And I was wondering if you could recommend a place to go?”

The hand shaking stopped abruptly as the Dane cheered, “I knew there was something that I liked about you!” Mathias threw an arm around your shoulder, getting a bit too close than what was deemed proper, “Do you have aquavit where you’re from, Y/N?”

You tilted your head away from Mathias’s face before answering, beyond shy that an attractive Dane had an arm around you, “No, but I’ve been dying to try it.”

“Hehe. You remind me of my brother, Lukas.” His large hand gripped your shoulder firmly, “He’s kind of quiet as well. But don’t worry! A few drinks will loosen you up!” You were barely able to grab your wallet before Mathias dragged you out of the apartment with a loud cheer.

It’s said that one way to get to know a Dane is to go out drinking with them. And you enjoyed your liquor, so it didn’t seem bad that you were being invited for a drink… If only you were aware of how much Mathias could consume…

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I forgot that translations exist…

Hvad hedder du -> What’s your name

Jeg hedder… -> My name is …

(purposely wrote it wrong in the story to signify a bad pronunciation) Undskyld -> Excuse me/Sorry/Pardon me

Jeg taler ikke dansk -> I don’t speak Danish