The nights feel so long. They live apart and it makes things only harder. The queen-sized bed feels so empty without his partner.

It’s another restless night for Sweden. Hana makes for nice company but she knows better to never sleep in his bed. She has her own bed for a reason and he doesn’t want to break that habit. On top of the night-table was a simple digital clock, with the ability to play the radio. Sweden left the volume on low to distract him and hopefully allow him to drift off to sleep. But he’s already changed the station twice now. The first time happened because the music had switched over to punk rock and it was simply too heavy for the hour of the night. The second time happened when the classical station decided to play something more melancholy with a soft violin, oboe, and piano. It made him miss Finland even more and nearly shed some tears. Sweden had never changed the station so quickly before.

He was currently stuck on a Top 40s station but he was too old for this kind of music and didn’t seem to get its appeal. But he hoped the boredom of its sound and lyrics would lull him to sleep.

It had almost worked. That was until a song of loneliness and heartbreak caught his attention. Someone out there was playing a cruel joke on him, he was sure of it.

Frustrated, he slammed his hand against the power button of the clock radio and arose from his bed while putting on his glasses. Dressed in nothing more than a white t-shirt and blue boxers, Sweden grabbed his matching blue housecoat off the vintage coat stand for some extra warmth and slipped on his slippers before he made his way down the stairs and onto the main floor. The lights in the living room were on a dimmer and he left them at a comfortable level—not too low that he couldn’t see anything but not bright enough that it would make his eyes uncomfortable. Taking a seat in his usual spot on the sofa, he turned on the television and began flipping through the stations. He wasn’t expecting to find much at this hour: the news, some films, and late-night shows were all that were available. He left it on a late-night show with the two hosts chatting up a storm about pop culture. They cracked a few jokes that the audience loved but Sweden didn’t understand. Denmark was always the one that was better informed on these topics.

Twenty minutes in, they brought out an actress for an interview, and Sweden didn’t know who she was either. But the trailer seemed interesting enough. It appeared to be a mystery thriller and he recognized the scenery as the coffee shop that he took Finland to on a regular basis. For the first time that night, Sweden had cracked a smile.

But the interview was dry and within minutes he found himself getting drowsy. The show seemed to be doing the trick as his eyes grew heavy. The last thing he saw of the interview was a shot of one of the hosts holding an old photograph of the actress dating back to her teen years. Sweden had finally gone to sleep.

The clock had struck midnight. It never rustled him out of his slumber.

At the front door however, it could be heard being unlocked with a key and quietly opened. There was a loud bang when the sound of a heavy bag hit the floor and a masculine voice swore in a foreign tongue. But Sweden was out cold and never heard a thing.

The man shut the door and removed his shoes. Tiny footsteps made the wooden floor creak in some spots as he made his way to the living room. He saw Sweden with his head back into the sofa, lights low, and television blaring. He gave the man a soft grin and walked towards the coffee table. He grabbed the remote and shut off the television. He loomed over Sweden and gently played with his hair before leaning in for a kiss on Sweden’s lips.

Bright blue eyes awoke to the sight of warm violet ones. Excitement grew in Sweden’s chest. Dreams really did come true.

“Thanks for waiting for me.”