chapter 1 - her er en sang
Sigurd Amundsen had barely ever spoken with the Dane living in the apartment across the hall. He had greeted him when he first moved in a month ago, but other than that, it was nothing more than simple 'good morning', 'nice weather today isn't it?' and other greetings.
He did know his name though, as he passed his door every day on his way to the stairs; "Søren Andersen" he read on the door. He was not a noisy neighbor like the couple living above him, the brothers living beneath him, or the married couple living next to him, even though the latter were not that bad.
He had concluded that Søren was Danish after he had put a small Danish flag outside his door. It had started as a joke, when several of the apartment building's residents realized the many different nationalities that were present.
One day, the Frenchman from upstairs knocked on his door, and asked him, that he was "Norwegian, right?" Sigurd had nodded and the longhaired man standing in front of him, explained in his French accent that they had started to put the different flags outside their doors. Just for fun. He had thought that it could not hurt, and agreed to do it.
A week after the Dane moved in, Sigurd was fiddling with his keys, grocery bags on the floor, while he heard the Frenchman explain the very same thing again.
Yet, despite the few social interactions between the two men, Sigurd found himself standing outside Søren's door in the middle of July. All electricity had stopped working in his apartment due to the summer storm, and he would have gone to the nice couple living next door, if it was not for them visiting Sweden for the next two weeks. Really, even though he hadn't talked that much with them, there were a lot of people in the building he could've gone to, but yet again, most people were off on summer vacation even though he didn't know exactly who.
However, Søren was not, Sigurd had seen him go out yesterday when he was heading home. The only interaction between them had been a "well, groceries don't buy themselves, ey?" from the Dane's side, and a nod as an answer. This was what led Sigurd to be standing outside the door at eight o'clock in the evening.
He decided that he could just as well get on with it, and knocked on the door. It took Sigurd fifteen seconds of staring at the red-brownish door before it was opened before him. Søren didn't exactly look surprised, but there was something in his eyes that Sigurd couldn't quite define.
"Well, um, you see, the storm-" Sigurd started speaking but he was interrupted by the taller man.
"Your power's gone too?" The Dane always seemed more talkative than him, so he thought it best to answer with just a nod. "Mine's not, but Eliza was down here earlier asking about it, she said they'd make it though. You're very welcome to come in." Sigurd answered with a 'thank you' and walked inside to find himself standing in the entrance of the apartment.
The room was simple, a coat hook with a couple jackets, beneath it two pairs of shoes and a chest of drawers along the other wall, with a painting that seemed familiar above it. It was a light forest during summer, with children playing. It was definitely Danish. He took his shoes off, putting them next to the others, and looked up at the Dane again.
"I knew the storm was coming, just not that it would hit that bad," he told the Dane, trying to small talk. "It's weird though, how it hasn't affected your electricity as well." Søren nodded.
"Yeah, I was wondering about the same thing. Maybe we should just consider ourselves lucky that one of our apartments have survived," he chuckled. Sigurd could not help but to smile as well. The way Sigurd saw Søren so far, was as a very kind and lighthearted man.
Somehow, it was also nice to live closely to people whose home countries were next to his own, with the Finn and Swede living on their floor as well. Hearing them talking a weird mix of Swedish and Finnish together every now and then was quite nice. He had been eating dinner in their apartment one evening, and recognizing Berwald's Swedish terms of endearment for Timo made him miss Scandinavia.
Sigurd heard music coming from beneath the door that he was sure would lead him to the living room, as in his own apartment. The music turned louder when Søren opened the door, leading him into a living room looking a lot like his own, but yet far from it. On one of the walls, a big Danish flag was hanging. Sigurd couldn't help but laugh as he looked back at the other man.
"Really?" he asked, still laughing. Søren shrugged, smiling a bit himself.
"I miss home every now and then, and even though they do some weird shit, I miss my fellow Danes. The flag reminds me of happy memories. Do you really have no other Norwegian flags than the one outside your door?"
"Oh, I see what you mean. I really feel the same way about Norway… I do have a couple of flags around my apartment – but not a flag THAT big." Now they were both laughing.
"Okay, okay, I get it – it's a bit extreme. But really, we live in England, I think I'm allowed to have just a flag or two." Sigurd nodded, and looked further around the room. He recognized the music playing as something Danish. Where Sigurd's own living room was decorated with more cold and neutral colours, such as blue, beige and yellow, Søren's was with more warm and striking colours, like purple, green and especially red. In the left corner of the room, he noticed a couch and decided that he could just as well sit down, as it would probably be a long time before the storm would move on, and that meant he was not leaving Søren's cozy and warm apartment for at least a couple hours.
"Hei du." He froze when he heard Søren speaking Danish – well, it could be Norwegian as well. "I was in the middle of preparing some late dinner, do you want some? It's tomato soup," he said, not seeming to realize Sigurd's reaction to his words. The answer was a nod, and Søren was out of the room, off to what probably was the kitchen.
The time flew with Sigurd studying the rest of the room, accompanied by a sound every now and then from the kitchen, and ten minutes later was back in the living room. Søren made gestures for him to join him at what seemed to be a dinner table in one corner of the living room, so Sigurd stood up from the couch.
"So what do you do for a living?" Sigurd asked.
"Oh, I work at the kindergarten that's just down the street. Some really nice kids." Somehow imagining Søren working there seemed oh so very natural. "What about you?"
"I've just finished reading medicine, so I'm newly a doctor at the Simmons hospital."
Incredibly smoothly, their conversation continued, and after placing the dishes in the sink, they had moved to the couch to continue their talking, when the much feared moment stroke. Søren's power went out with the roar of thunder. Slowly it started to get colder in the living room. Normally Sigurd would have thought it weird for it to get cold in the middle of a July storm, but as the rain was pouring down outside, it made just a little bit sense.
"To be honest, I think the only warm room left is my bedroom, and I might have some blankets and warm clothes in there."
"Do we really dare move from the couch?" Sigurd answered with a grin, but finally rose. It was indeed becoming quite chilly in the living room covered by warm colours.
Søren's bedroom was quite nice, but also a bit messier than his own was. In the middle of the room there was a king size bed with ruffled covers. Along the walls were two closets and a chest of drawers. While Sigurd was studying the room, Søren had sat down on the left side of the bed. He placed his hand on the other side of the bed, looking up at Sigurd.
"Settle down. If we're gonna go through this storm together, we might as well just get comfortable."
And so, Sigurd sat down next to the Dane. After getting properly comfortable, he laid down, staring at the ceiling.
"I have to say that I've always been scared of thunder," Sigurd admitted, looking over at the other man who was also lying down now.
"When I was younger, I was afraid of the thunder too, but my mum just told me that it was Thor riding across the sky, and that I shouldn't be frightened of him." Sigurd had to let out a chuckle, he had heard that story as well.
"Same here. What can I say, Nordic parents!" That remark made Søren chuckle too. Sigurd had to admit that something about the Dane's deeper voice mesmerized him. Not to mention that he certainly was attractive. He just had something for tall blondes, and oh dear, was Søren one.
The two men continued their talk about everything and nothing, and every now and then Sigurd noticed them having moved just a little bit closer to each other. Their talk made Sigurd forget about the thunder and lightning outside, until an exceptionally loud thunder roar stroke. The Norwegian concluded that he surely would have looked shocked, as Søren immediately laid an arm around the smaller man. Sigurd felt his heart racing as deep blue eyes stared concerned into his own ice blue.
"Hey, are you alright? I'm right here." The answer was a nod, as Sigurd found himself unable to get anything out his mouth from a mix of pure shock and excitement. Søren caressed the smaller man's arm, and continued talking, this time about one of his favourite Danish bands, whose singer, he added, had a name that his parents had considered calling him. It calmed him to just hear Søren talk, and he was soon himself again, even though his heart still kept racing a bit. What else was to be expected when his arm was still caressed by the other man? Now it was with slow and steady strokes, which was almost worse for his heartbeat.
Sometime after hour-long talks, they must have fallen asleep in each other's arms, as they had still moved closer and closer to each other through the night, until sleep hit. That was at least Sigurd's conclusion when he found himself lying incredibly close to Søren the next morning. He spend quite some time admiring the Dane's handsome face and broad figure in the early morning light, before realizing that lying so close to the other, so very attractive man, had gotten him turned on. Sigurd carefully but quickly got out of Søren's grip and up from the bed. He had one last glance at the sleeping Dane, before closing the bedroom door behind him without a sound. After a couple minutes in the living room, Sigurd left the apartment.
Søren was sad to wake up alone and chilly with no Norwegian in his arms, and he got up in the hopes that the smaller man just would have settled in the living room. No Sigurd. However he found a note on the coffee table written in red pen.
Thanks for a great evening and night, you really made me forget the storm. Let us not have it be the last evening we spend together. Maybe a cup of coffee next time? You can just knock. Sincerely, Sigurd Amundsen.
Søren smiled to himself, and realized that the power in his apartment had returned.