Nobody loves an underdog, except that Dane.

He was walking, as always. Sauntering through the school, the sun filtering in through the tainted, gigantic windows in the narrow corridor. Silence roamed up here, only a few people went to these parts of the school. The school was very old, and had the looks of a gothic castle, so it had many corridors and many rooms to get lost in. Lukas, however, knew his way around all of them.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking in the tranquil, familiar atmosphere. The sudden appearance of a clothed chest hitting his nose and an unfamiliar accented voice was however not very expected.

"What the...?"

He jumped, screamed – quite high-pitched as well - and dropped all of his papers and books, leaving them scattered all over the cold stone floor. Flustered and embarrassed, he turned up and faced the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Alright, what a cliché, but really, that's exactly how it was. He was tall and classically handsome, with wild, golden hair and even wilder blue eyes. He was simply gorgeous. Lukas quickly shook of his somewhat shocked expression, and went back to his usual vacant look that was better with hiding emotions.

"Watch where you're going."

"Well…" his accent was strong even in just one word. He sounded Scandinavian. "Maybe you shouldn't go walking around with your eyes closed either." He said with humour in his voice, flashing him a grin. Lukas felt his cheeks redden, and averted his eyes.

"I wasn't having my eyes closed." He snapped back, glad to have gotten rid of most of his own accent about a year ago. Or, well, learnt how to hide it better. "I merely blinked and you happened to be in my way. Who are you anyway?"

The question was thought to be rhetorical, but the boy didn't seem to notice or he just didn't care. "I'm Mathias! Nice to meet you! I'm new here, senior year. And you?"

Lukas watched him for half a second before replying, wondering exactly how oblivious this guy could be. He was quite certain his face did not bear that "I-really-love-to-chitchat"-look. "I'm Lukas, if you must know. Junior." He almost felt ashamed to admit that last part somehow, he did not really know why. It was kind of like trying to make new friends in kindergarten, but failing since you were considered too young to be any fun. Not that he had planned on befriending this guy anyway, but still. He picked up the last of his books and papers and turned on his heels while speaking.

"Well, I'm off. Have a nice day." He left before Mathias could answer him.

Wait. Had he just wished him a nice day? He never wished anyone a nice day, not even himself. Barely his own brother, who he cared for most of all in the world. He just wasn't the type of guy that would wish anyone a nice day. Two and a half rough years of high school had definitely sorted that out for him.

He used to be happy, once. He used to be normal. He used to be just like any other guy. But then came high school. Everything, every little fact about himself he thought was true had suddenly become false. Instead of standing steady on the ground he felt like he was constantly keeping himself from drowning in a black ocean of emotions, angst, hate and self-betrayal. Every day was a struggle, and hiding away made it easier. Not meeting new people made it easier. He hated introducing himself, because honestly, who was he? He had no clue, so how could he ever tell anyone else? He had considered talking to the school's therapist, but had given up the idea a long time ago. What could she do anyway that he couldn't do himself?

He walked to the library almost unconsciously, he knew the way there by heart. That's where he spent most of his hours in school, residing behind a good book or just strolling along between the shelves with endless rows of literature. However, right now he realised with a quick glance at his watch he could not stay there for long. He had science class in only ten minutes. He went in to return some books, said hello to the friendly librarian, and went back out again. Reluctantly he steered his steps towards the location of his locker, knowing what awaited him. People.

-x-X-x-

After an astoundingly calm session of taunts and light pushes, which always occurred whenever some of his tormentors got to him, he sat down at his place in the back of the small, scarcely decorated science-classroom. Luckily, none of those losers took this class.

One minute till the class starts. Tick tack. Thirty seconds. Precisely five seconds before the time was up, and the teacher was about to close the door, someone rushed in through it like a wild autumn wind. Lukas jumped slightly in his seat.

"Sorry I'm late! So sorry! I just had trouble finding the uh… uhm the… the classroom!"

Trouble finding his words as well, Lukas thought dryly as he watched none other than that boy he had bumped into earlier make his way to the teacher who had gone back to her place at the front of the classroom. The teacher nodded understandingly with a sympathetic smile, and gazed quickly over the students in the room.

"Hmm, well let me see here… Mathias Køhler, is that right? Yes? You could sit next to Lukas Bondevik, just down there."

Mathias face lit up as he searched the classroom and his eyes found Lukas. Lukas sighed and rolled his eyes at Mathias' ridiculously satisfied smile, secretly scared of the mischievous blush that threatened to appear any moment. A short moment later, Mathias dropped his things heavily on the seat next to Lukas' and sat down clumsily. Lukas sighed once again, and Mathias whispered a 'sorry', so quiet Lukas was not sure if he even were meant to hear it.

Nevertheless, the lesson went on, even if Lukas felt both terrific and terrified by the thought of Mathias so close to him. When their fingers accidentally brushed against each other while they were pushing the microscope between them, he was dead sure he couldn't stand this anymore. What was with him?! He needed some air.

Thankfully, only moments after, the bell rang and class ended. He quickly gathered his things and left, but unfortunately not quickly enough for Mathias to lose trail on him.

"Hey, wait up! Lukas, wait for me!"

Lukas stopped briefly, automatically at the mention of his name, and turned to Mathias who stopped beside him. He looked at him as if he was waiting for Lukas to say something, so he cleared his throat, trying to think.

"Don't yell my name like your life depended on it. Also, keep your voice down, especially when you're saying my name out loud, alright?" Seriously? Was that the best he could say? Not even five minutes into a conversation with newbie, and he was already making a fool out of himself.

"Why not? Don't you like it?" he sounded surprised. He had probably never been bullied ever in his life. At best, he might know the meaning of the word "bully".

"Just a friendly advice. You don't want people thinking you're friends with me, especially not if you're new here." he really tried to speak like he meant it, but deep inside he yearned for a friend too much. This was too unlike him. He started walking again, and to his utter frustration he was followed again, instantly.

"Hm, really? That sounds stupid." Lukas simply snorted, very unamused. "I'm sorry but I don't really care what anyone thinks, I wanna hang with you."

Lukas stopped dead in his tracks and turned his face up to Mathias, who had nearly bumped into his back. "Are you serious? Why?"

Mathias shrugged and grinned at him, a damn brilliant smile. "Why not?"

Lukas watched him sceptically for a moment, narrowing his eyes, before he started walking again. "Hm, fine then. It's your choice then, I guess."

"Awesome!" Mathias whole being lit up with satisfaction as he strolled next to Lukas out to the vast lawns surrounding the school. Lukas was almost impressed by himself. He never went out during the long breaks.

They walked to a tree, a bit off from the school. You could see the whole school from here, even the Lukas simply sat in the grass, leaning on the tree trunk. Mathias pulled off his school sweater leaving him in a wrinkly shirt and a badly tied tie with the schools emblem on. He laid down in the grass, stretching out into his full length, his belly showing briefly before he put his arms under his head. He was really tall, and Lukas felt so much smaller than he actually was. A long amount of surprisingly comfortable silence passed before Mathias eventually spoke.

"So, where are you from? Anywhere around here? You don't look typically American, no offence."

Lukas turned his gaze down to the boy in the grass, thinking through his words for a moment before speaking them. He certainly wasn't going to embarrass himself anymore for today.

"None taken. I'm from Norway, originally. I moved here from Iceland seven years ago with my family. Lived here ever since."

"That's funny, I'm from Denmark! Moved here only a month ago actually. Dad got work here and I had to change schools." Lukas found it fascinating how Mathias could be so interested in such an insignificant fact that they both originated from Scandinavia. He also wanted to ask why he had to change schools, but refrained to, due to the sudden troubled look on Mathias face. Maybe he didn't want to tell. Maybe Lukas wasn't really all that interested.

"So, Iceland? How long did you live there? And why?"

"I and my dad moved there with his new wife when I was six. My parents divorced when I was four. After living in Iceland four years, we all moved here with my baby brother."

Lukas forced himself to shut up. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? He had never told anyone this much about himself. It seemed as if the mere presence of this strange Dane made him more open hearted. Lukas was unsure of whether that was a good thing or not.

"Interesting! Can you speak any Icelandic?"

"Not really, only a few, pretty useless phrases and words." To be honest he hadn't really been bothered to learn much since he was placed in a school adapted to foreigners where they seldom spoke Icelandic, and he didn't have enough friends to leave the house very often. He wasn't particularly fond of his stepmother and even though he loved his brother to death he didn't know much either considering he had only been four when they left the country, heading for America.

"Can you teach me Norwegian?"

"Why on earth would I do that? I've heard Norwegian and Danish are practically the same languages anyway. We'd be wasting our time since we probably understand each other without practise." He sighed inwardly. Was he serious?

"Oh, come on! Norwegian sounds much more beautiful than Danish, you've got to admit that." He laughed slightly, not really waiting for a reaction from Lukas. "Anyway, I must say your English is good. I can barely hear any accent. Mine's too obvious, I hate it."

"You shouldn't." Lukas bit his lip. He did not mean to say that out loud. Fuck it.

But to his relief, Mathias only snorted half amusedly. More silence passed before Mathias eventually broke it again, not very much to his surprise.

"So my accent's not all that bad, huh?" he sat up and laughed, an irritatingly handsome grin spread all over his face.

"I did not say that." Lukas excused himself, looking at his watch and observing he should be going back. "Class starts soon."

"Ah, well this was fun while it lasted. We should do it again some time!" He stood, stretching his arms above his head as he walked up next to Lukas. "What are you having now?"

"History." The Norwegian answered simply, ignoring that first part.

"Oh, I wish I had that too! I have maths."

"How terribly boring for you." Lukas replied, expressionless. However, this did not seem to break Mathias mood down. How was that even possible? There was after all a very good reason Lukas had no friends. Frustrated, he didn't even notice when they reached the school building.

"Well, I'll see you around. Have fun in history!"

Lukas turned just in time to see Mathias disappear down the corridor, not really knowing how to respond anyway he was glad he didn't have to do it. He felt a sort of strange warmth in his chest, and wondered if this was what it felt like having friends. He had never really had any, so he was fairly unsure. He decided not to dwell on it as he turned into another corridor, a shortcut to the classroom he was expected in.

-x-X-x-

The weeks continued on just like that, Mathias hanging around him every free minute like a fly around leftovers. He met him at his locker whenever he had breaks, he came to find him in the library to drag him out on endless and countless adventures. Whether it was a trip to the cafeteria, a walk through school or when they just walked out to that old tree, Mathias was always sickly enthusiastic. Lukas found himself rather fond of this behaviour after some time, surprising himself when he first thought of it.

Eventually, they hung out after school as well. They never went home to any of them, but they went to various other places in town. Mathias was new in town, hence the endless tours he demanded Lukas to give him. And always that adorable enthusiasm, never faltering. Whether they were running from angry seagulls at the bay or buying cheap ice cream from a snarky salesman downtown, Lukas always managed to put a smile on Mathias' lips.

-x-X-x-

It was Friday, and Lukas felt delighted. It was soon weekend, and he secretly hoped for Mathias to come up with something they could do together. The mere thought of a weekend spent with Mathias almost put a smile on his lips as he walked through school, heading for science class.

The attack came over him so suddenly, and he felt his adrenaline rate race from zero to hundred in a matter of milliseconds. A fist in the face, appearing form nowhere, knocking him to the ground, leaving him with black and blue spots dancing before his eyes while he tried to get up. The sound of laughing and whooping boys surrounded him, and perhaps some gloating, malicious girls giggling in the background. He fought to regain his normally perfect vision, to stand, to stop his brain from spinning. Instead he received a kick in the shins.

"Not so fucking cool anymore, huh?"

"Die, bug!"

"You ugly little shit."

"You should stay away from that new kid!"

"Kick him again!"

"Yeah, leave Mathias alone! He doesn't need your help finding friends!"

"Especially since you haven't even got any of your own."

"You're disgusting!"

"Fuck off from this school."

"Freak!"

"Creep!"

"Faggot!"

Lukas gave up fighting against it. The cruel words practically raining over him and the kicks landing harshly all over him was too much. It all hurt too much. He put his arms around his head, and slowly tried to crawl away blindly, not daring to open his eyes. He lost track of time and the laughter eventually died. He crawled into a corner next by some lockers, behind a large trashcan. He did not want to be seen. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to die.

…I don't really care what anyone thinks, I wanna hang with you.

Mathias words echoed pointlessly in his head for an inexplicable reason. What if they got to him too? Lukas was sure, in that moment, that most possibly he had already ruined the life for the poor Dane. He hated himself, he hated the world, he simply felt hate. His vision was blurry and his whole body hurt immensely. He collapsed against the wall, tired of fighting. He slowly closed his eyes. Slowly closed out the reality. He was almost certain he was dreaming when faint footsteps broke through the blackness embracing him, and he almost imagined someone calling his name in a strong accent.

-x-X-x-

"… no, I found him like this behind a trashcan… looked like I was almost too late… I can't even dare to think what could've happened if I… he's all mashed up…"

The words came out faltering and weak as Mathias tried his best to describe the terrible state he had found his new and only friend in. Coming out of English class, walking aimlessly around the school corridors, suddenly noticing a lone shoe laying in the middle of the hall. He had immediately recognized the plain, black sneaker.

Mathias put his head in his hands, sighing. "I'm sorry… I… Jeg kan ikke." He winced as his native language sneakily slipped out in this weak state of his. "Sorry. Just, please give me a moment."

"Of course." The kind nurse patted his shoulder gently before leaving him alone in the corridor outside the room where Lukas laid. A moment later she returned. Mathias looked up, hoping for even the slightest piece of useful information. He was lucky.

"He is going to be just fine. He's battered and bruised, but no broken bones. Slight concussion. A weeks' rest and he'll be alright." The look in her eyes turned sympathetic. "He's awake now if you want to go see him."

Mathias thanked and stood up, hesitating as the nurse left down the corridor. He chose to let his heart choose for him instead of his head, leaving him with only one option. He sighed half-heartedly and swung open the door.

There was a chair next to the bed where Lukas laid. He went to it and sat, watching Lukas who was barely in a state which could be called awake. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his eyes only opening just enough to register who came in. His left cheek was turning purple and the eye on the same side was puffy and shifting in blue. One of the arms hanging out from the covers revealed even more horrifying bruises and scratches. Mathias felt a wave of anger at the sight, who the hell would do such a thing? He clenched his fists as he suddenly recalled an unpleasant conversation from the maths. He didn't remember all of it, he had tried hard to not listen. But, of course, he couldn't avoid hearing parts of it. And he certainly hadn't liked what he heard.

Some boys in his age had been speaking about someone they were going to beat up. They said things implying he had done something wrong, 'gone too far' and 'crossed a line'. They called him horrible things such as 'the little creep', 'fucking idiot', 'faggot' and so on. It took Mathias only seconds to understand who they were talking about once they mentioned he had 'engaged himself' with the new kid. They were talking about Lukas. Mathias thought he was going to be sick.

If only he had stopped them there and then, told them to go fuck themselves and to leave Lukas alone, would it have made any difference? Or would Mathias have ended up too behind a trashcan, battered and bruised? He refused to think that way, but what if… He felt so bad. To him, Lukas was so small. So fragile. And now he lay here wounded, hurt. Was it Mathias' fault? Of course it was. Somehow, indirectly, directly, whatever. He could've done something. How could he even have the dignity to sit here next to him, nearly sobbing? He didn't even notice the hot tears until it was too late to cover them up.

"Helvede…"

He rose from his chair, stormed out the room without a single glance back at Lukas. What a fool he was indeed.

He went home, faster than any time ever before. His mom wasn't home, nor his dad, and he laughed humourlessly. Of course they weren't home. All they ever did was working. Working all day and sometimes nights, not seeing anything of the dark secrets their son hid behind their backs. He walked determinedly over to dad's liquor cabinet. Breaking it up as smoothly as ever, bringing out just any random bottle. Maybe his dad knew, but just didn't care. Maybe he let him drink his sorrows away. Maybe he deserved it.

This habit had been going on for far too long, but he couldn't really find a way to stop it. Whenever times got too hard to handle, the alcohol was always there to help him, enveloping him in a painless bliss, if only for a moment to take away the hurt and pain. He was technically an adult now, but it still felt just as bad. It still felt like three years ago, the first time that sixteen year old, miserable boy used alcohol as his painkiller. His life sucked considerably, and he was aware of it. Moving from Denmark to America hadn't really changed much, he was still just as miserable. Still just as vulnerable. Still always in the wrong, making all the wrong choices.

Too young, too precious to be treated that way, they had said. But if they only knew the dark beehive of emotions which hid behind his 'too handsome', beaten face.

Half a bottle left, he couldn't take it anymore. He never did like whiskey anyway, and he felt disgusted by himself. Barely managing to put the bottle back just as smoothly as before, he wobbled over to his bedroom. He crashed onto the bed, his mother would just believe he was tired and took a nap. She would never smell the alcohol on his breath. She would never notice the missing liquor from the cabinet. Nor would his father. They just would never see.

"I need to get my fucking life sorted up…" he mumbled to himself, muffled by the pillow he buried his face in. "And leave poor Lukas alone."

-x-X-x-

Jeg kan ikke = Danish for "I can't".

Helvede = Danish for "Hell/Fuck"