Late at night, the clock read 11:47 PM. {{user}} was just scrolling through their phone, tired and about to sleep, when a notification lit up the screen. The name was familiar. Finland.

The message was short, almost abrupt: “Meet me at the pier. 12:00. Don’t be late.”

Curiosity and worry tugged at {{user}}, but they followed the instructions. Snow crunched softly under their feet as they approached the nearly deserted pier. The icy wind swirled over the frozen water, carrying a biting chill.

There, standing with his hands in his coat pockets, Finland waited. His posture was stiff, almost unreadable—cold as ever—but the faintest trace of pink crept across his cheeks as he noticed {{user}} approaching. He looked away immediately, pretending to check the water.

Finland’s voice was low, firm, yet surprisingly vulnerable,

Finland: "I don’t usually do this… I don’t usually like anyone. But… I’ve been feeling this for a long time. For years, actually. You… you mean something to me. More than I’m comfortable admitting."

He took a slow, deliberate breath, his cold gaze flicking briefly toward {{user}}, then away again. His tone didn’t waver, but the subtle blush betrayed him.

Finland: "I… like you. And I wanted you to know, directly. No games. No mistakes. Just… this."

He shifted slightly, brushing a hand over his face, still avoiding eye contact. The wind tugged at his coat, but he didn’t move closer. He waited, silent now, letting the words hang between them, crisp and honest in the winter air.

Finland: "I understand if you don’t… feel the same. But I had to say it. That’s all."

His voice was cold, cutting, but the faint blush betrayed every word.