«We're gonna be the Nordics !!!»
Four faces turned to an adorable little boy with rosy cheeks, clear blue eyes and spiky golden hair full of gel.
The boy facing him answered as he put a fringe of sandy hair back behind his hear as he talked. A curl was curiously floating at the back of his head with a strange light and his eyes were so deeply blue that they seemed to be purple - those two particularities made him perfectly unique, but no one was able to tell where they came from.
«Another great idea ?
- But, but, Lu', we're all from one of the five Nordic countries ! That's fun, no ? Ber will be Sweden, Tino, Finland, I'll be Denmark because of dad, and Emil and ya... Well, ya can choose ! Since mom is Norwegian and your dad, Icelandic... ya can take the country ya want and Emil will have the other ! Ya're the older one, so ya decide !
- Don't include my lillebror in your weird ideas, Mikkel.
- Hey ! He's mine too !»
At these words, Mikkel puffed his cheeks, offended. Then, his expression changed radically, giving Lukas a bad feeling for some reason.
«Tino ! Ya agree with me, don'tcha ?
- Uh, me ?
- Yes, you !
- Well... I guess it could be fun ?Or at least better than most of nicknames you tried to give us.»
The named Tino was another blond, slightly shorter than the other two. He had a pretty face, though a little round, in the center of which sparkled two color-changing eyes some could get lost in, turning to an amazing blue-violet shade to a soft hazel one.
As Mikkel thought, Lukas lost to the boy's sweet smile.
«I'll take Norway, then.
- Well, well, ya changed your mind pretty quickly, huh ?»
This comment gave Mikkel one of his brother's murderous gazes he started to get used to.
Despite that, a much younger boy was clinging to Lukas' arm, red eyes watching the whole discussion and hair as white as the snow dotting the ground : according to the other four, he was the cutest thing on earth. With a clumsy smile and achildish pronunciation, he added to his big brother's words :
«So ay be Iselanyd !
- Ya like the idea, little Icey ?
- Jà ! That's dad's country ! And if storebror and Tino agree, then I agree too !
- Aww, ya're so cute... Oh, and 'bout ya, Ber ?
- If they're all 'kay with that, so 'm I.»
The fifth and last boy was the tallest and the second oldest. His greenish eyes, partially hid behind glasses, showed a scary expression quite far from his real self : inside, it was a highly sensitive boy. He only had trouble to express how he felt, but it seemed to run in the family since Lukas had the same problem. His hair were blond like the others', although slightly darker.
As long as Lukas could remember, it always had been the four of them, and even five since Emil's birth. But it was still a little child : him, he was older ! He was seven years-old ! Emil was the youngest, his dear four years-old lillebror, while Markkel, their half brother was the oldest with eight and a half years. Only half because their fathers were different, since Markkel's was dead, but Lukas thought this term was stupid since he fully considered Markkel as his brother. He wasn't even close to admit it, though. His father was Danish, their mother Norwegian, and Emil and him's father, Icelandic. But it was Markkel's too now, they could share their dad ! So why was Markkel so sad when he thought about his ? He didn't even knew him.
Also, Berwald was their Swedish cousin, a day younger than Markkel, and Tino, Tino was their neighbour's child. He had no blood bond with the others, but it didn't made him less important to any of them. He even was the most important person to Lukas, but he couldn't really put a word on it. It was his "special one", a secret only he and his big brother knew.
They were happy. Well, Lukas was often scolded by his older brother with the usual "You should smile more !", but he truly was happy. He just couldn't understand why people should have to force a smile : he smiled when he felt like it, that was that simple.
m
They were the Nordics, indivisible. Or at least they thought they were : as everyone find out, time goes by and things change. The seven years-old kid was Emil now. Lukas was ten and soon would be Tino as well, while Markkel and Berwald passed eleven last month. It was a twenty-sixth of July, in the Steilsson's living room.
Now, Lukas stared at Tino's father with blank eyes, unable to think. His words echoed in his head again and again.
« I had a great offering for a job in Russia. We'll leave before New Year's Eve.»
No.
No, it couldn't be.
They always had been together since they were two, Tino couldn't leave. And Russia ? Why Russia ? Tino's parents always hated Russia. Is money the only thing that matters in this world ? No. No, he couldn't believe it. Tino couldn't leave. He was Finland, right ? They were the Nordics ! The Nordics were five countries ! Tino couldn't leave. They needed him. He needed him.
Why his mother seemed so joyous ? She was hugging Tino's mom and dad, saying that she was "so glad for them". Was she happy to see her friends go ? Lukas wasn't at all. The other four neither. Even though Tino keep smiling, all he could read on his face was pain. His brothers and cousin were at theverge of tears. Did their parents cared about that ? No, they didn't. Since they were rich, they could offer them expensive stuff if it kept the kids away but they would never do anything for them. Both of their families never cared - well, Markkel's case was a little more complicated, but still. That's why the five of them always tried to protect each other as well as they could - oh, but Berwald was the lucky one : back home, his parents hugged him, did all they could to make him happy, everything to help him if he was in trouble. Just like real parents were supposed to.
Berwald had always been the lucky one.
The following days, he searched a way to let Tino stay here, in Norway. He tried, everyone did, but they knew they were powerless. And soon, Lukas had to face the evidence : Tino was about to leave soon, and there's nothing they could do about it.
«I'll write you ! I swear !»
Twenty-seventh of december, at the airport : The Finn was smiling, holding back tears once again, a suitcase tightly gripped into his hand.
«Write us ? Sending letters costs money, and you have none. Neither do we.»
Lukas' voice was colder than he wanted it to be. He knew that the Finn wouldn't come back, not even for hollidays. It was too complicated. Too expensive. And none of their families would allow it : no need to lost their time or money on this kind of futile stuff. They were only "friends" because of neighbourhood and good behavior, after all.
«Hey... hey Finny, you'll come back to us, ja ? Please, promise ya will.
- It's a promise, then ! I won't forget you. You're my precious friends, right ?»
Good - now he was the only one who wasn't crying a river. His two brothers were hugging Tino with those big, fat tears rolling on their cheeks, and even the tough-looking, scary swede melt in tears. But him, he wasn't able to cry.
All he felt was emptiness.
All he did was watching the Finn go,five years ago.