I leave the world meeting in silence. And I'm perfectly fine with it.
I used to be angry that no one would talk to me. I used to go home and do things I don't want to think about anymore. But over time I've grown to escape the pain the passion brought. I'm Iceland. Some random island out there on the face of the earth. That should be enough to explain why people ignore me. And it did some days. And it didn't others.
But now it does.
I trail behind Matthais and my brother Lukas. They've known each other longer than I've known my brother, which is a little scary in my opinion. In front of them is a surprisingly relaxed Tino and Berwald. It took several hundred years for Tino to loose his jumpiness around Berwald, which is weird. The guy goes out by himself for a whole night every year wearing a red outfit that screams shoot me now.
But I guess no one wants to kill Santa.
They all go off their separate ways, without telling me. They really don't have to. Matthias "magically" convinces my brother to go drinking with him, like always. Lukas loves his beer like everyone, he just hides it better. Tino goes home to supervise the elves (no joke! Christmas is 2 weeks away!) and Berwald goes...wherever he goes. I guess I should know, but I don't. It's useless to ask; we all know how good his conversational skills are. And I go home.
Sure, it's a bit of a plane ride from England to Iceland, but I'd rather be there.
I get home close to ten. Walking into the house, I flick on the hallway lights. Calmly I place my keys on the table. Tugging at the rumpled white bow on my shirt, I walk up to my room, taking care not to undo it. It feels old and worn.
It should. I've worn it to just about every meeting I've been to.
Grabbing my laptop, I whistle a humorless tune that reminds me of Vikings and other things. I ignore the fact that i'm still wearing my white boots and sit on my green couch with the laptop while nursing a hot cup of tea. Great. I go to the idiot's country for a day, and now I'm just like him. Suddenly I hear a knock on the door. My hand floating above the power button, I purse my lips, not one to show outward emotion. Abandoning what I planned to do, I open the door.
I find my friend Eydis shivering in the cold.
"Eydis, what are you doing out here, it's freezing!" She smiles.
"I could ask the same of you, you're the one that just got in wearing no coat." She smiles, knowing the cold doesn't bother me. I'm Iceland, what else can be expected? Walking in without asking, she takes off her white hat and flips her long black hair back, smacking me in the face. Quashing my urge to touch it, I run my fingers through my own platinum hair instead. She looks at me for a second. "You were at a meeting weren't you?" I roll my eyes.
"No Edi, these are my pajamas." She smacks me with with glove she just pulled off her hand.
I've known Eydis since I moved into this neighborhood 3 years ago. That's a long time for me to know someone, especially considering my status as a personification. Edi is just different from about everyone I've met. When loud-mouthed Matthias had to let the secret get out, she didn't run screaming or whatever people do when there in extreme shock. How am I supposed to know, outward emotion isn't something I use a lot? She still cared about me, and it's amazing how good friends you can become with someone when you don't have such a big secret between you.
She's the kind of girl that will call you at 2 in the morning to talk about ice cream, and then drag you to the store with her to get some. That's what I like about her. She doesn't leave me own my own, but actually has the audacity to call me when normal people (I like to consider myself normal) are supposed to be asleep.
She got me through a lot.
We end up sitting back down on my green couch. Or, well, I'm sitting, she's stretched out so that her feet are touching my side. I can hardly breathe. Yes we are friends and I have freaking feelings for her, don't judge me!
I'm about to type up a summary of the meeting for Germany. It's something he asked me to do once before, and ever since then I've just done it on my own. I guess we have a certain respect for each other; he tries to get something accomplished, and I keep my mouth shut about tourists in an attempt to promote listening to other people. He tries to get people to pay attention while they are at the meetings, while I give a summary for those who didn't even bother. Needless to say, our efforts are wasted.
Taking a sip of my tea, I notice Edi's looking at me strangely.
"You're gonna wear gloves to type?" Self consciously, I touch my gloves, pure white like the shirt I wear underneath my maroon jacket. The outside color doesn't match what's underneath them. She notices my hesitation and pushes on, never one to back down, while at the same time losing her incredulous tone. "I mean, it seems like it would be pretty hard to type." I sigh.
"It's not; I've gotten used to it." She looks away, and my hands hover over the keyboard. I begin to type. Then erase it all. Type again. Glance at Edi. Erase it all. Then type again.
I think we should allow Canada to be the hero for once, and see if Alfred can get by with his brother's voice.
I then erase that. Don't want an angry Alfred on my hands.
But I'm not thinking about that.
Do I tell her? Absently I brush the back of my hand. Glance at her. She just looks at me in silence. Do I really want to do this to her? I feel a small pit of fire settle in my stomach, a pit that makes me sick. I guess, I owe her this one, after all, she's the reason why I'm better now. I pull off my right glove. Then my left. She gasps, and I do to. Red, pink and white cover my hands and extend up into my sleeves where we can't see. Burns.
"What happened?" She breathes, light and airy, somehow making this even more scarier.
"It was back before when I lived with Lukas, and a little bit after. And well, you know I've been ignored, so I got angry. What I really wanted to do was smash glass plates, but I didn't want Lukas to see the broken glass. But there was a fire in the fireplace. And I just stuck my hand in and out." She sits up and moves closer to me. I hold my hands away from my body, having set aside my laptop, finding them disgusting and horrible. "It was painful, but it took away a lot of the anger. And I got addicted to it." Her eyes meet mine, purple reflected into deep ocean blue pools.
"Do you still do it?" I break away from her gaze.
"No." What I want to say is because of you, but the words die in my throat. I take my gloves and start to stick my hands back in, when she lays a hand on them. Taking my left hand into her hands, gently she traces the scars. I shiver, something that shocks me. I've never reacted to anything like this before.
"Why did you stop?" This is my chance. I've stifled everything for far too long just to remain emotionless now.
"Because, you taught me that I needed to accept myself for who a was. People who really cared about me would come along." Crap, I feel slight moisture in the corner of my eye.
What's with girls and reducing guys to blubbering fools?
But I lean in and kiss her, knowing this was long overdue. Leaning back, I try to meet her gaze.
"Thanks." She laughs shakily.
"Gosh Emil, I didn't do anything. You're just so strong." I'm not strong. By her being my friend, I found I was accepted and needed to stop looking where I wouldn't get it. Leaning her head against my chest, she plays with my bow. "Even though you have weird fashion tastes."