Author's note: For ducere and the lovely Norway in a snuggly sweater she posted The Tumblrz. Her art is boss.
Evening
A low sun casts shadows through the window in the near-empty room, yet it's still enough to read by and until that sun finally sets, that's exactly what Lukas intends on doing by its light this evening.
The chair itself is comfy, new, and not (despite the Dane's teases) from Ikea. Instead it had been hand-made for the room by Berwald; the rest of the furniture was still in the Swede's workshop, the walls unfinished, the floor unpolished.
But as it is at this moment, the study almost feels complete already with its one chair that Lukas reclines in, legs bent over an arm as he makes to turn a page. The ground had been wet out, morning showers that would thankfully leave the air less humid tomorrow, not that the Norwegian minded; he loves the morning rain that gives way to this sort of clear sky, no clouds blocking the watercolor God's painting as the sun makes its way to bed. His boots had needed to come out of the back of the closet anyway, jeans still tucked in.
The book itself was engrossing, an old Danish thing Christen had brought along with Emil's gift of a new sweater. Lukas had found he rather liked the gift, wearing it over one of his red t-shirts, sleeves pushed up to keep them out of the way. So far he's yet to spill coffee on the cream sweater; it had been a good week.
In the distance the phone rings, Lukas turning another page and letting his answering machine do the work. Several messages are left, one right after another, ranging from panic to quiet anger to everything in between.
"Hey Lukas! Christen. Listen, I know we're meeting up next week but could I pop in Friday for coffee? I've got some good news! See ya, love ya!"
"Hey Lukas, Christen again. I didn't think you'd be out but if you are I don't have to come Friday, I'll come Saturday, ok? Just want to hear your voice. Love ya!"
"Lukas are you purposely ignoring me? I didn't do anything!"
"Lukas, that damned Dane keeps calling me. He's convinced you either hate him or are dead, and won't leave me alone. He thought I'd have better luck though I told him I would talk to you tomorrow when I come by with the drawings for your study's desk. Let me know if you don't want to talk to him and I'll convince him you are in fact dead. Again. Till then beloved."
"Lukas please don't be dead! I'd hate myself if you were dead!"
"That fucking Dane has called me three times already, Brother, asking if you're mad at him, so call him back because I'm not dealing with this shit."
"Hi Lukas, Timo calling, although you probably already knew that. Well, um, I had some papers somewhere here- oh crap, where'd they go? Oh well, they'll turn up. They were papers about the meeting next week, I thought we could discuss them before that- hold on, I'm getting another call. Eh, that was it really that I had to say, have a good night!"
"Hi Lukas, Timo again. Christen said you're dead? If that's the case I guess you don't have to call me back. I'll call Berwald and confirm."
"Lukas, that damned Dane has now called me, Emil, and Timo multiple times. What the fuck are you doing? I know you're home, probably dancing around naked with coffee or something. Call me before I actually start to worry beloved?"
The Norwegian nation curls his toes, arching his back like a cat, before starting the next chapter in the book. Berwald could wait a few minutes before he called him back, and Christen could use a lesson on patience. Lukas had forgotten how much enjoyed his evenings off.