How long was this going to take? With a quiet groan, Finland brought himself out of bed, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

“...Why can't I just sleep...?”

Finland murmured to himself. His eyelids felt like lead weights, but sleep remained elusive. Restless nights had plagued him occasionally, each one a torment of insomnia. He got up from his bed and stared into the mirror nearby, his half-dressed figure reflecting a stranger⎯ eyes hollowed and shadowed. The weariness was etched into his features, a constant reminder of the sleep that evaded him. He sighed, a low, mournful sound that echoed in the quiet bedroom. He barely even knew who he was anymore.

As Finland's gaze flickered around the room, his eyes came to rest on the alarm clock on the bedside table. 2:43 AM. The glowing green numbers danced before his eyes, taunting him in their merciless march of time. He groaned again, raking a hand through his messy white locks. Why should he bother getting back into bed if sleep would not come? No, perhaps he needed to find something to occupy his weary mind, to distract him from the relentless cycle of wakefulness. But what could possibly hold his attention at this hour?