Howdy! So I was on a three hour train ride up to Edinburgh this morning, and suddenly found myself writing SuNor fics on my iPhone. It's certainly a good way to alleviate boredom! Just a little angsty SuNor for you all, because who can resist that? Based heavily on And So It Goes by Billy Joel, a beautiful song that you should listen to. Right now. Go on then, go!
Names used, just to avoid confusion: Halvard/Halle - Norway, Berwald - Sweden, Timo - Finland, Mikkel - Denmark, Emil - Iceland
Halvard's room was, for many years, his sanctuary. Free from the cold, free from hunger, free from violence. It was quiet and cosy, with worn rugs laid across the cold stone floor, a fire so often burning merrily in the fireplace. Out of the window, Halvard could see down into a valley, where the mist swirled in the early morning, and lone deer could be seen darting across the land. It was a beautiful room and Halvard loved it. But it was made even more beautiful when Berwald was there, his warm, strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him warm, keeping him safe. Berwald would murmur soft words in his ear, make love to him on that grand oak bed, and when thunderstorms were ravaging the land outside, Berwald would hold him close, and he wouldn't feel frightened anymore. He'd never admit his fear; of course, he had too much pride for that. But Berwald could see fear in his dark blue eyes, and he'd pull him close without a word.
Halvard loved him. He adored him; he couldn't put into words the immensity of his adoration. Berwald was his friend, his brother, and for years he'd been so much more than all that. Halvard loved him, and he loved Halvard.
And it made Mikkel angry but what did that matter? They had each other, that was all they needed. Halvard was convinced of that.
But with the arrival of a small Finnish boy into their midst, it became clear that Berwald didn't already have everything he needed.
From then on, everything started to go downhill. Berwald began to spend as much time as he could with Timo, the Finnish boy, and it was like he didn't even realise it was happening. More and more often, Halvard would be left on his own, with no one to hold him as the thunderstorms shuddered across the land, and he could only watch with cold, jealous eyes as Berwald lapped up Timo's attention like a man deprived of water taking a drink for the first time in a long while. Halvard could feel his hold on Berwald slipping, and he wondered how this could ever have happened, and how he never saw it coming.
Eventually, Halvard could take no more. He cornered Berwald one evening, when the snow was falling thickly in the cold, wintery night.
"...We need to talk." Halvard said in a soft voice, watching Berwald from across the room.
"We do?" Berwald replied in an equally soft voice, but a tired one. He'd been out with Timo, exploring the landscape, and Halvard shuddered at the thought of it, the moments where their eyes would meet, those brief seconds when their hands might brush against one another. What had Berwald been saying to Timo? Was it similar to what he used to say to Halvard? The Norwegian didn't like to think about it.
"Yes," he said, "we do. It's...about Timo."
Berwald faltered for just a moment, and then he nodded slightly. "What about 'im?"
Halvard sighed a little. "You know what I'm talking about." He tried not to sound like he was accusing him of anything, because Halvard liked to think he trusted Berwald, and he didn't want to jump to conclusions. His voice sounded almost cautious in its hesitancy.
Berwald sighed a little. There was a pause, and it seemed to last forever, the seconds ticking on and on, their time wasting away, without respite. Eventually he spoke. "I don't know what to do, Halle." There was that nickname he used far too infrequently. Halvard would admonish Mikkel if he used it but Berwald...Berwald had always been different. "I don't know what to do." Berwald continued, looking away from Halvard, staring at something non descript. "I just...he makes me feel like...like..." Berwald shook his head, at a loss for words. Despite his faltering speech, however, there was no pretence to it. He was sure of what he was saying, despite his inability to find the words. "...'m sorry, Halle."
Halvard just nodded, staring out of the window, watching the snow. "Does he make you happy?" He eventually asked, that cautious tone still lingering in his voice. Berwald nodded. "As happy as I made you?" Past tense. No longer present. A pause, and Berwald nodded.
Halvard left the room before Berwald could apologise again, and despite his wary voice and hesitant questions, Halvard still felt like he'd said too much.
Berwald no longer came to his room. Halvard had been expecting that for a while now.
Halvard eventually concluded that it was his own fault. As he saw Berwald slipping away from him, he did nothing to stop it. He said nothing to stop it. No words of warning, no pleas for him to stay, there was nothing. It would be Halvard's worst mistake, and he would never stop regretting it, because perhaps his silence made Berwald leave.
One night, an unusually warm spring night, Berwald came back to Halvard's room. There were no questions, but Halvard let Berwald into his bed, and Berwald held him close, resting a hand over his chest, feeling the beating of his heart. They both knew this would be their last night together.
Throughout it all, Halvard kept his eyes resolutely closed. He didn't want to see Berwald's face; he didn't want to see the sadness in his eyes. He didn't want to see him try and communicate things he would never be able to say out loud, so he kept his eyes closed. It was just as well, for all he'd seen in his lifetime.
Eventually they drifted off into uneasy sleep, and when they awoke, fog had settled in the valley, and there was a chill in the air.
As they were getting dressed, Halvard stopped, sitting down on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. 'I want to be with you,' he wanted to say, as if that choice was his to make. It had been his once, but he had since lost his chance. Berwald was the one to make the decision now. Berwald still had Halvard's heart, so he could have Halvard's heart to break.
Berwald chose Timo in the end, and everyone had seen it coming. He apologised to Halvard again and again, promising that they would stay friends, declaring he didn't want to lose him. Halvard could only nod, and say he didn't want to lose him either. If he'd acted earlier, he wouldn't have lost him. But that was all in the past now. Halvard once asked Berwald if he ever told Timo about the time they spent together, all the memories they shared and all the promises they made. Had he ever told Timo about all that?
"No," Berwald had replied, "you're the only one who knows."
Halvard resolved to raise his brother well, that's what he'd do, he'd make sure Emil never felt lonely, never felt sad, never went through what Halvard had been through. He would love his brother and raise him to the best of his ability, if only to fill the aching gap Berwald had left in his heart.
And so it goes, and so it goes, and you're the only one who knows.