"Lukas?" called Mathias for the seventeenth time.
No answer was returned to him. He had been knocking on the younger's door for quite some time now and he was starting to get worried. By now, the other would have opened the door, or at the very least would have yelled at him to go away. Not caring about the consequences, the Dane tried opening the door.
To his surprise, it was open. "Lukas would never leave his door unlocked..."
Entering the room, Mathias looked around for the other. He found him leaned over on the small desk, face emotionless in what appeared to be sleep. His normally silvery blonde hair covered his face and was without its usual sheen; instead it was unusually dull.
Sensing something not right, the Dane reached out a hand to gently tuck the hair away. Instead of warmth beneath his fingertips, the other's face was cold as ice. Having a hunch but wishing it not to be, he shook the man.
"Lukas...wake up..." he said gently, receiving no response.
Very worried, the Dane shook the Norwegian a bit harder. Mathias refused to accept what was obviously true: Lukas was dead.