**Rewrite of the Chapter**
Note to Readers: I read over the chapter, and I've decided I don't like this version...I don't know why, but I really think I'd like to redo this, so here it is.
It had started like any other morning. Lars slowly woke up to hands running through his hair, slowly opening his eyes to see that Emma was half awake, messing with the straw-coloured strands. "...Why must you do that...?" He muttered, removing one hand, only to kiss her knuckles with a light smile.
"You told me you like that, so why not? Anyways, waking you up like that gives better results." She replied, scooting over to him to get possibly a bit more warmth. One thing she loved about Lars, other than him overall, was that he was oddly warm. He usually ran a bit warm, and it gave just the perfect finish to a night on the couch snuggled up in a blanket. "Happy Anniversary, though. I thought I wouldn't remember, but it popped into my head this morning when I woke up."
"It is, isn't it?" Lars was counting down the days until she forgot, but she didn't, in the end. That was surprising...sometimes Emma was a bit of a scatter brain, so she would need reminding here and there. "We should do something special then, yeah? Do you want to go out to dinner?" At that, Emma made an odd face, crinkling her nose and stuck out her tongue a bit.
"We've been to every place in Antwerp...I don't really want to go out tonight..." She sighed, letting he heaving in her chest decompress into another breath. "Why don't we dine in and you can stay another night? It'd be nice if we both cooked something, right?"
"Mm...I've got a bit extra on my paycheck, too...we could get something nice and make good food..." He replied, smiling with the corners of his mouth. "Something tells me steak would be nice...and you could make some little girly salad for yourself while I eat yours, too..."
Emma beamed and sat up, gently 'booping' him with the pillow she had been laying on. "You are not eating my steak. I've been saving that in the freezer, and I've almost cooked it without you. Twice."
"You what?" Lars's expression went from coy to faux surprise and hurt. "You wouldn't eat those without me, would you? Truly?" He did this little thing that looked like he was about to cry, but with his stoic face, he looked like an absolutely pathetic baby. Emma could only snort and pull the blankets up over her lacy camisole and stare.
"You're just...you're something else, Lars Van Dijk. I've yet to figure out what exactly." She shook her head and lay back down, laying her head on his arm. "For now, you're still a keeper."
"I'm also hungry. We could add that to the list if we're keeping track of the names associated with me." He shrugged, kissing her forehead lightly.
"Smartass."
"That's a good one, too. We'll put that on the list." He added, smiling widely at her slight faux annoyance.
After the first night Lars and Emma had met, Lars had stayed with Emma night after night. They went on their dates, and it wandered up to this point where they were at their third anniversary. Three years, and Lars still hadn't moved in. "...You think you could actually live over here instead of taking the bus every day here and there? I mean...it'd be closer to work for you, so you wouldn't have to go as far. I'd help you move your stuff over here...speaking of your place, I haven't been over there for a while."
"Nothing's changed. I did get a new sink handle, though. The other one was a bit off, so I finally got the nerve to change it." He admitted, picking up a couple strands of her golden blonde hair and twirled it between his fingers. "So...back to the original topic...we're having steak tonight...? A salad could go well with that...along with side dish and desert."
"I'll make the side dish and salad if you cook the steak and make dessert. You'll get bonus points if it's chocolate." She smiled, finding her eyes wandering to a little scar that Lars had. It had been there as long as she and him had been together, and it looked a bit deeper than a normal scar that would have been stitched up.
"You're staring again." He said quietly, gaining her eyes on his once again. "Why does that fascinate you so much? It's just a scar." Lars breathed, reaching up to scratch a little unknown itch right in the general area of the previous wound.
"You never told me where you got it from, so I've been thinking about how you could have gotten it." She said simply, deciding that it was time to get out of bed and actually get dressed to go out shopping. "You threw your clothes everywhere again..." She mumbled, pulling one of the blankets off to cover her naked rear.
"How couldn't I? We were going fast enough I didn't know where I was throwing things." He looked up only to find he had thrown Emma's panties upward, and the ceiling fan had caught them. "...At least I didn't jam up the ceiling fan again."
The Belgian laughed and continued on to the bathroom, throwing Lars's pants at him. "Just get dressed. You've got some clothes here that you left." She called, pulling some gently used clothes out of the hamper and started the shower. It wouldn't take long for her to get ready, and then they'd be out in another blissful day in Antwerp. Just a trip to the open market, then back home wouldn't be too much at all.
Lars dressed and straightened his hair up in the bathroom mirror while Emma showered, using the 'Guest Toothbrush' that Emma provided him to brush his teeth as well. The Dutchman's pearly white teeth weren't perfect, to be honest. There were a couple chipped teeth he needed to get after, and a few of his teeth were crooked in the sides of his mouth. But overall, he looked almost like a businessman with his 'Old Man' way of dressing, as Emma called it, and his build was that of a football player. Emma told him that he could play for the World Cup for the Dutch team if he wanted to, but he declined and continued to watch football with her.
While Emma was in the shower and did a bit of makeup, Lars was thinking of what he could make. He could take a couple recipes from his friend Kiku and make milk pudding and call it good...Yeah, he'd do that. He'd make Emma one with chocolate in the middle, and one with strawberries in the middle for himself. Lars wasn't a fan of chocolate as it was, but strawberry was alright.
"Lars, you'd be fine with watching the game tonight while we eat, right? My hometown's playing against Sweden tonight, and I really want to see them whoop some ass." She said, pulling the shower curtain to look at him with a smile. "Your team's playing Spain again after the first Belgium-Sweden game, by the way."
"Ooh yay, football on our anniversary—just like last year, save for the fact that we missed the match because someone wanted to get the expensive special that they had run out of so they had to make her a new batch of some tomato-basil soup."
"Look, that soup was to die for, and you liked it, too. Even if you don't like tomato soup." Emma argued, sticking her tongue out like the five year-olds she dealt with at her job. "Anyways, I got a nice soup cup out of that deal anyways."
"Mn...Are you almost done in there anyways? You're using up all the hot water in the appartment." Lars teased, filling up a cup with cold water and waited for her to close the curtain and mumble something about him something in Flemish or something—he didn't know because the next thing he did was pour the cold water on her in the shower and ran out of there like a bat out of Hell.
"You know, you're lucky I like you enough to not scream and yell at you for doing that little cold water trick." Emma huffed, finally getting herself out of the shower and into some clothes to head out in. A pair of warm leggings, a nice little dainty pinkish dress, and her normal everyday wear coat and a scarf that looked a bit like what Lars wore most the time. It wasn't really blue and white—it was more so red and white instead of the Dutchman's blue and white.
"If yelling is the worst thing you could do, I would have stayed in the bathroom. Knowing you, you'd try to throw the soap and shampoo bottles at me." He shrugged, continuing his longer strides while Emma took at least two steps to try and compensate for Lars's long legs. Each of them held their own grocery bags—One with a bit of heavy cream, fresh strawberries and chocolate, and a can of all spice for Lars, and Emma had picked up some fresh produce to make mashed something or rather. It was a habit of Emma's to just boil a bunch of vegetables and make mashed mixed vegetables just like her family used to do. Usually consisted of cauliflower, turnips, potatoes and sometimes carrots and sweet potatoes. Lord knew she had a lot of vegetables on the brink of being tossed out, so this would be as good as any time to actually get those used up.
"Smartass." As they walked along, there were a few more things that Emma picked up on impulse, saying that she actually needed a new frying pan, or that she really needed this nifty kitchen gadget that looked more like a lime squeezer than a potato ricer. When they did get off of market street and started heading back home, Lars couldn't help but to feel a bit on edge. It was strange, really. He looked behind them and furrowed his brows, seeing a familiar face behind them. "What are you looking at back there? Someone following us?"
"...Friend of mine." He said quietly, picking up the pace a bit. He mentally cringed when the man following them called for Lars, obligating him to stop and say hello back. "Well, what hole did you dig yourself out of this time?"
"Oh, just a little ditch on the side of the road. I actually came over to try and pay you a visit, but your house was locked and your answering machine left me a mean little message." The man had a bit of a more tan complexion, and he looked like he didn't really fit in Antwerp...or Belgium for that matter. His voice was tinted with a bit of a more southern accent. Spanish. From Spain.
"Oh, about that...that's not just everyone's answering machine message. That one's just for you." Lars smirked a bit, holding Emma a bit closer. "The question still stands: What do you want?"
"Aren't you going to introduce him, Lars? You're being a bit rude..." Emma pointed out, offering her hand to the Spaniard. "I'm Emma, it's nice to meet you."
"I'm Antonio, but Lars seems to call me other names that are a bit more rude." He chuckled, taking Emma's hand and kissed the back of it. Looking back up at Lars, he couldn't help but to keep smiling as the Dutchman glared a bit. "Back to the business side...I just wanted to tell Lars that a few more people are coming around to visit. They thought it would be nice to see how he's doing."
"Well, that's nice of them...I didn't know you had so many friends." Emma beamed, looking up to the other. "Maybe we should all go out and eat dinner or somethi—"
"Thank you, Antonio...I'll go ahead and clean up the place a bit and have them over sometime." Lars sighed, glancing to his groceries. "You and I can go and have coffee at nine tomorrow if you wanted to catch up a bit."
"That'd actually be great—I'll pick you up at eight." The Spaniard smiled. "Your cell phone number is still the same, right?"
"That's right. Now off with you. We've got to get going." Lars waved and turned away, getting a look from Emma. "What?"
"Are you always that rude to your friends?" She asked, puffing her cheeks out a bit. "I'm not upset that we couldn't all get together, but you just seem like a bit of a dick to your friend right there."
"I've known him for a long time, and he understands my dry and sarcastic humour towards him." Lars explained, slowing down the walking pace for a bit, just walking leisurely instead of in a hurried pace. "I'm not like that to everyone, though."
"That's good to know...I wouldn't want you treating everyone like an ass." Emma's good mood declined into something along the lines of annoyance and slight distaste for a bit, checking her phone and such to avoid talking to him for the short time it took to get home. "I'll get started on dinner...it's already three o clock...that's a bit of a waste of a day, hunh?"
"It would be better if you didn't sleep in all day, you know. More time to do things if you got up early and went to bed early." Lars noted, watching as Emma got to the door first to let both of them in. It didnt' take long for Emma to sling her purse in the general direction of the couch and tossed her coat in the same direction, only for Lars to pick the articles up and put them on the coat rack that he brought to her house and then placed his coat on the opposite side of hers to even it out.
"But I really don't like getting up early..." She whined, digging around for a pair of aprons in the linen drawer. "But I'll do it when I have work, though. That's different, though. I'm waking up to do something I like."
"You actually like doing school for children. I mean...that's some of my least favourite things right there. Put those two together and..." He stopped when he saw Emma's face, stern as ever and staring at Lars with an expression of 'Keep going. I dare you.'. "...If you were there, I think I'd be able to brave it."
"Good boy. Now can you put on an apron and turn on the television? I wanna see England get smothered." She said with a smile, pulling out all the things she needed from the refrigerator, pulling out a couple knives to chop everything up. "We'll get all of this started and we'll have time to watch the rest of the game..." Emma hummed, listening for the sound of the narrator on the T.V.
With the sound in the background and the two of them talking, it didn't take much time to get the oven working and the whole kitchen area was extremely warm. Lars had folded up one of the kitchen towels and wrapped it around his head, making a bit of a sweat barrier and a glorious chance for Emma to take a picture of that—which she did. Said picture became her background on her phone.
Just about the time that the Belgium-Sweden game came on, everything was just about finished up in the kitchen. Just as the opening ceremony for the came started, the players were coming on the screen and thus started Emma's commentary. "I hear that the Swedish team has a few people that are absolutely amazing...Like that Oxenstierna man. He's gone all season without any serious injuries, and he's seriously fast. Looks like a brick wall, runs as fast as a rabbit."
"Eh...I'm not really a fan. I'm more interested in the romance that he's got with the retired Finnish player. Tino? Aren't they getting married or something?" Lars questioned, just as the screen flashed the image of the smiling Finn...with his arm in a blue and yellow cast. He looked seriously happy, though. "...Is it just me, or is Berwald limping?"
"Probably just a little bit too much stretching?" With Emma leaning on the counter as Lars set the table, everything was almost done. "...I'm starting to wonder if he got injured..." Creeping closer to the living room area, she sat herself down on the couch and started watching. Not even after the first quarter, the referee had signalled for a time out due to a sighting of blood on the playing field. "Holy shit, he's bleeding?" Lars strode over to lean on the back of the couch, interested in the turn of events.
"Wonder what happened to him...I think they're calling out the paramedics..." He mumbled, watching the screen closely as the Swede doubled over and fell to his knees, just barely holding himself up with one arm before clothes started ripping, and in the blink of an eye where the man crouched there was a giant mass of fur, and all they could hear from the television was screaming and yelling. People in the crowd started fleeing, causing the creature to growl and howl at all the commotion. The station cut to a busy signal, the vibrant bars and stripes there to stay while they sorted out the problem.
Both Lars and Emma were trying to process what had happened, each at their own pace. Emma was trying to process what had happened to the Swedish man on the field, and what had actually gone on right then and there. Lars on the other hand was going in full fast forward. He knew what happened, now he was thinking further and further into the future. How would this affect him? Who would it affect? What was Emma thinking about this? "That...That was horrible...what happened to him? What...what was that thing?"
"Probably just...I don't know, really." He said quietly, looking over to the other, realizing that this had shook her up a whole lot more than he had expected. Emma's eyes were wide and she was holding the apron skirt so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. "...There's probably a reason, though. Maybe it's just a promotional for a new movie or something. They tend to do that sometimes, right?" He offered, trying to calm her mind of whatever was going on.
"Right...A-A promotional...that's probably it...They're on a bit of a wolf kick right now...they're probably just advertising for a movie..." She agreed, nodding a bit. Moving to get up, she suddenly turned and hugged Lars around the neck tightly, and upon that impulse, Lars hugged her back tightly, rocking from side to side like she usually did. "...Turn off the T.V...your steak's going to get too overdone and you're probably not going to eat it if it does."
"Food can wait. Just stay as long as you want." The Dutchman replied, holding the hug for as long as she needed. It ended up being a quiet dinner with a couple glasses of wine, then a Disney movie on the couch with a blanket over both of them. Lars carried Emma to bed, deciding to call into work sick for the next day. Keeping Emma close just in case of bad dreams, Lars slept lightly, only dipping into a few dreams that were more so memories of what had happened earlier in life. They were a bit more than bitter, leaving a dirty taste in his mouth when morning came.
Everything was a bit too bright. The shades had been pulled up high, and the morning light shone in Lars's eyes as he tugged on the metal that restrained one of his hands. There was another restraint on his right leg, making it impossible to move away from the chair. Left hand restrained, he looked up to what was in front of him. "I'm glad you're awake, Lars...care for a game of chess?" There was a woman. She had long red-brown hair and stunning eyes...there was no way that someone could have eyes such a vibrant violet colour naturally. She looked dainty, but her presence itself was huge.
"Not p-particularly...I'd like a smoke first, then I'd really care for a good long run far away from here." He said snidely, straightening up in the chair. He was almost too big for the clothes he wore. The collar of the shirt almost choked him, and the cuffs on the shirt were strangling his wrists. The tie around his neck didn't help at all, either. Shoes too small, pants too tight...it was like he was bursting out at the seams.
"Let me rephrase that." The woman at the other end sent a knee-splitting kick under the table, barely shaking the tea set and the chess board on top. Lars emitted a sharp growl, rows of pearly teeth showing through the bit of pain and annoyance he felt. "We're playing chess. You make your move first and focus this time. If you do well, I will let you have a cigarette...even though they're terrible and reek of death."
"Whatever you say, woman..." Names weren't clear in his mind yet. He couldn't focus. There were too many things going on. He had no clue how he got here. Why was he here? Who was she? She was constantly telling him to focus and telling him to behave. But he was so restless. He wanted to run. It came to the point where her yelling at him was to much and he broke the arm of the chair, then the leg and flipped the table over, only to be face to face with a massive wolf, teeth bared and snarling. It lunged forward and—
... ... ...
