I have for you another piece of this tale…like, a year and a half later. I didn't so much lose inspiration as hit a massive road block in figuring out how to get to the ending I wanted (also got caught up in my other favorite fandoms, Naruto and Pokemon…and Naruto-Pokemon crossovers!) Plus I decided to drop the "two-shot" commitment and let this run however long it needs to tell the story I have planned. My writings tend to end up much longer than I anticipate. I'd tell you my other, bigger account where you can see twenty-odd examples of that, but then I'd have to execute you.

Anyhow, this chapter, or at least its flashbacks, are darker than the first chapter, so be warned.

In the flashbacks, (which are italicized thus) Aleksander/Norway is 17. Gunnar/Iceland is 16. Oh, and in the present time, Aleksander is 21 and Mathias is 22.

Also, you'll notice that Aleksander is once described wearing a certain outfit (look for the word "vest".) This is that outfit, and when you get to that part you should scroll back up here and copy n' paste this into your search bar so you can look at the picture, because it's...quite hot. Probably worth the ten seconds it takes you to copy, paste and edit the below link

Go to a website called "zero" "chan" dot nett, but spelled with no spaces and, you know, normally...with a backslash and then THIS number after it: 102826

On Monday, he decided they should leave home before anyone came out as far as their house. Aleksander packed the food and Gunnar packed favorite belongings, and they took turns carrying Narfi. They walked all day and Aleksander found them an empty, lone house to sleep in, and told his brother it was all right to stay there as long as they didn't take anything.

On Tuesday, they reached a town, Ulven, and saw their first crowd. It was the end of the war, but there was no end to the refugees. No end of ragged arms pushing at fences and screaming to be taken to safety. They left, because the sight of it and the endless noise, like the walking and hungering dead, made Gunnar ill and Aleksander, secretly, terrified. They kept walking. Tuesday night, they slept on the side of the road and Aleksander told stories of Sofi and Lana and amusing old legends to make them laugh.

Wednesday morning, Narfi pecked their faces and woke them, and saved them from being woken by strange men with guns. When the brothers hid from the four would-be attackers, Narfi huddled in Gunnar's backpack and Aleksander quietly walked out from behind their rock. Before any of the attackers noticed him, he shot each one till they lay on the ground with red holes in their heads.

Gunnar shivered but did not say anything. He was certainly not so young that he could not understand this, but neither of them was so old, or so black or heartless within, that they could truly justify it. Aleksander pocketed his gun and told his brother as forwardly as possible, or perhaps reminded him, that if anyone attempted to hurt them or got in the way of their journey out of the country, he would kill them.

'Please say yes, please say yes, for the love of God, Aleksander, say yes.' Maybe, maybe if he'd surprised him enough, maybe if he'd never kissed a guy before, maybe he'd be too stunned having his mouth thoroughly raped and if all of that could just work out, Aleksander would be in shock from the whole thing and say yes. And after just one time, Mathias was sure he could make him say yes again.

He was still catching his breath, but his face had for the most part returned to its regular paleness. Aleksander still bowed his head, hiding his face, and still didn't say anything, until there was a harsh, husky, "No."

"Yes," Mathias said instantly. Rejection couldn't happen. It couldn't.

"No." Aleksander said, a little clearer. He was already overcoming the sweet, rough shock Mathias had given him. Dammit. "This is…just like the first time I saw you. Whoever you found th-that you screwed that night, you can find again. I don't want this." He started pulling away. One of his arms slid out from under his Mathias', but only because Mathias was in turn reaching for something else, the Norwegian's hat. Aleksander was quick to grab it, too, but Mathias wasn't moving his hand from it.

They both had their hand on Aleksander's hat, the smaller blonde's fingers partially covered by his own. The knuckles soft and faintly warm. Their owner's eyes were depressingly blank as they usually were. "Give me my hat."

"Go out with me."

"Are you fucking stupid?" Mathias' grip on the hand slackened slightly in surprise. "I'm not interested. There are plenty of homosexuals out there who are. Go out and find some." He pulled on the hat, but found it was still held too tightly. "You're acting like a petulant little child. Let go. I'm tired and I want to go home."

"What's wrong with just going to a movie?" Mathias asked, keeping his smile merely congenial. It hid the torment inside his body that not interested had stirred. "All you have to do is sit next to me for two hours and not talk. Isn't that basically what you try to do every time I see you?"

Laying out that straight fact may have fazed him some. For a few seconds, Aleksander stared with his eerie, dark eyes. He stared for a few more seconds. And then a few more. And then it was making the Dane nervous. And then irritated. All before realizing the guy was just stalling again. Just sipping from a drink.

"There's no need to pay to see a movie. We'll find something on a channel here."

"You wanna have a date…in this restaurant? And be obliged to talk to me?"

"Obviously neither of us is going to be late or get lost on the way. It'll be this time tomorrow night. Don't dress up, or you'll look like an idiot. Goodnight."

"Hope you sleep well," Mathias said immediately as Alexander left, and was surprised to see Aleksander stop and stare at him with his eyebrows slightly together, like he was confused and frightened at once. With that expression still in place, he left the restaurant and walked outside into a windy night, went all the way down the block till Mathias' eyes couldn't find him anymore. Once he was positively out of sight, Mathias took out his cellphone, pressed the shift twice to turn on the capslock and sent a text to Lilli: I'VE FUCKING GOT HIM!

He obeyed Aleksander's word and didn't dress up. He wore his black trench coat with the red cuffs only because it was raining, not that he was complaining about wearing it. Countless girlfriends in the past said he looked hot as hell in it. But since the heat was on in the restaurant, he was forced to take it off. Underneath was a red shirt he liked because it had a flame-eyed dragon curled near the left hip. Dragons were a badass design on clothing, but only on certain men. Dragons didn't seem to suit Aleksander. Unless Aleksander was wearing Mathias' clothes, and…and should that come before or after he started calling him Aleks?

Aleks, no, Aleksander came through the door some five minutes later…fucking dressed up. Sure, his pants were nothing but jeans, and they had a little chain making a loop out of and back into the right pocket, which was cool or rebellious or some shit like that—and hey, he wasn't wearing his hat—but he wasn't wearing a regular shirt. No, he had a shirt-with-buttons, the white kind with cuffs on the end that you wore to some stylish party or even to some office job, and on top of that was…a purple-blue-ish vest. Actually, the combo of them was kind of hot. So never mind.

Lilli, on her shift tonight, greeted him and guided him with a schoolgirl's fascinated smile to where Mathias had just sat down, for once a booth instead of at the bar. "I'm sure I know what you want to drink," she said to Aleksander, and he nodded politely. "Do you want the same, Mathias?"

"Nah, surprise me with something from the bar, kid."

"I hope you won't be driving home," Lilli said, and rushed away.

Once she had gone, Mathias was about to make an opening teasing statement about dating men, when he realized something was off here. "Hey…where's your hairclip?" Aleksander sighed and turned his head to the side, revealing his hairclip. "Oh. Sorry. I'm not used to seeing you from the front."

"Yes, I get blinder when I see people from the front, too."

"Well, it's so weird seeing you without that jacket and hat. They…" He stopped and cocked his head. "You got this long hair sticking out on one side. It's, like, curling."

"Yeah…I can't really get rid of it." Aleksander replied and appeared to dislike Mathias staring at it. "It's a hair. There are far more interesting things about me than that one hair."

"Tell me some, then…Oh! Duh! Your accent. I like it. Tell me where it's from. Like, more specific than just 'Norway'." Lilli returned at the completion of this sentence to deliver their drinks, and failed to keep a thoroughly amused expression off her face as she dropped a straw into each. She took their orders in a very pleased voice.

After ordering, Aleksander replied, "Ulv Bakke. It's a half a day's train ride from Trondheim to an old train station from which you must be ferried across a river to get there. Some fools might try to swim across as well." Mathias downed a gulp of his surprise drink, which earned its title of surprise drink since he couldn't guess what it was. He divided his time between sharing his best stories with Aleksander and discovering the identity of his drink, which apparently was asexual and created some spawn, because the next time he looked, it had two other big, empty glasses beside it, and a half-empty plate of…what was that? Fish? Had he ordered it?

He looked up and saw Aleksander leaning his head in one palm, observing him in a way that was definitely more interested than normal, or maybe he was just feeling the newness of actually having the guy's eyes on him. Mathias' mouth moved on its own. It apparently remembered he was telling a story that his brain forgot, which happened when he drank too much.

He was doing some rant along the lines of, "—and the prick doesn't actually say anything to me, but he's got this look on his face that's sending a whole load of 'when-a-winery-hosts-a-wine-tasting-the-tasters-don't-actually-swallow-it-they-spit-it-out-which-is-why-there-are-men-standing-around-with-buckets-you-fucking-idiot." which without a doubt made Aleksander smile.

The quick, amused exhale, which counted as a laugh, was maybe important too, but the smile was magnificent. He had seen something like it in his wonderful dream a few nights before. He was thinking about that smile and the many degrees of drunkenness when Lilli came over with the check in her hand. Aleksander took it, and the two of them exchanged muffled words, money and then numerous glances in his direction. It was confusing.

Suddenly Lilli was in his face, and her eyes were green like an alien. "Mathias, Markus is going to cover for me while I drive you home, okay? Can you stand up?"

That Lilli was just too damn sweet for her own good, no wonder she and Vash hadn't had an argument since she was seven. But he didn't want her help now. He look across the table to where a blurry-lined, slim figure in a damn fine vest was staring right back. Fuck, his eyes were beautiful. Must. Stare at them.

"I guess it's…aghh…it's not right to expect you to put out on the first date, but man, I'm plastered. You wouldn't drive your drunk buddy home?"

"I walk here," Aleksander replied, maybe a little triumphantly, like "HA! I'm freed from the responsibility of having to waste my time helping you, bitch!" or maybe, "HA! I'm free to run straight home and jerk off to your gorgeous voice in my head!" or those ideas were stupid and he just needed some sleep. Oh. He was still talking. "—no need to drive here when I can get exercise by walking, and I can't carry someone as large as you. Your friend Lilli will get you home."

Before he knew it, Lilli was pulling him up by the arm and saying soothing, non-headache-inducing things as she walked him to the door. He stopped just before he reached it, because something was missing here—oh, duh! He hadn't even said goodbye. Aleksander would think even less of him if he was too drunk to say freaking goodbye.

So he turned and looked for him, and found him still sitting in the booth, looking his way. Definitely looking his way. And—smiling—he raised his hand and opened the fingers partway in a wave. And smiling. That is what God looks like, right there. That was Mathias's new god.

Mathias raised his lips just a little in a smile more powerful than Aleksander's. But then it seemed the floor was moving, because he was starting to go out the door and his feet didn't seem to hit the ground like they would if he were walking, which meant he was walking on air. Lilli was telling him something about men, and luck, and then someone named Matthew. Then the car transformed into Mathias' bed, and there were no headlights or dashboard, just the little red lamp on his nightstand and his window with the blinds cracked, and then a dream of Aleksander, smiling.

And then Aleksander, removing his vest…

The next day began with a snarky little bitch named Hangover and his phone ringing way too loudly at eight-twenty in the morning. He reached over to his nightstand and flipped it open. "Yhhh…yess?"

"M'thias, 'm gonna say this once, an' you better fuckin' listen, 'cause I think I may jus' be glad t'nev'r see ya again."

Mathias said, "Okay," and listened. His hangover was suddenly nothing in comparison to the words of Berwald.

"Tino jus' got discharged from the Kuningas Hospital in Offen. We're on th' way to yer apartment complex. Git outside right th' fuck now. If yer not there, I'm takin' him home and fuck if I never let you see 'im again." From farther away, there was Tino's voice, light and happy, happy when it should never be. He was saying something that made tears crackle in Mathias' eyes.

"Okay. Okay, Berwald, I'm going outside right now. I'll—"

"Save it." Berwald hissed. "Ya need t'say this t'him, not t'me. You're m'friend. M'best one. But I'll never forgive you. You r'member that. You c'n save me from the wrath of God and things'll still never be th'same with us."

"Berwald—"

"Shut up. And git outside n' wait. Now."

"I will! I will! You just—you drive at the speed of freaking light, Berwald, I'll be there no matter what!"

Mathias hung up and stared at his phone in his hands, and hated the message it carried. He threw the phone at the wall. The back casing fell off and he crushed his hands to his face. "Fuck!"

Tino. Tino. God, poor Tino. He thought his friend's name from the moment he got up out of bed and found the morning sun glaring at him through cracks in his blinds, while he pulled on clean clothes and brushed his teeth so he wouldn't look like a drunk loser. He rushed out of his apartment without locking the door and flew down the flight of stairs from the second level to the ground floor. Outside, winter was beginning to make its presence known and Mathias almost wished he'd worn another layer or brought a coat. But what did that matter? Tino. Tino.

He saw Berwald's car turning into the complex parking lot, and squinted to try and see the pale flash of Tino's hair next to him. They parked across the lot from where Mathias stood. He walked towards them slowly, carefully. Berwald came out of the car and seemed to be standing even taller than his normal height; Mathias for once saw his eyes the way most people saw them: fierce, icy sparks as menacing as a demon. A quiet beast. Tino came out of the car after him and blocked the gaze of hellfire Berwald was giving him.

He looked normal. Plain, white hoodie with his university's name scrawled across it, plain blue pants on thin legs. Two hands. The right one looked exactly the same as the left. It was fake.

Tino smiled to begin, which he'd done since he was a kid and probably also in the womb, if he could have. "Well…here," he began promptly, and held out his left hand as though expecting Mathias to kiss it. "Come on, feel it." Mathias stared at it, completely numb. "It's okay, Mathias." Tino added. "It is. Just feel it."

It was Berwald's black glare that compelled him, not his petite boyfriend's words. Mathias lifted his right hand and took the Finn's in a casual handshake—it was plastic it was smooth beyond anything God could have made, this hand this piece of shit that was his fault—and held that pose. There wasn't even a breeze.

"I'm so, so sorry." Mathias said. An ugly choking noise came up out of his throat. He didn't care to block it. "I ruined your life. I'm a stupid, bloodthirsty fuckup and this is my fault. I'm sorry." He held Tino's fake hand in both of his. Warmth seeped from his living limbs into his friend's false one.

"I know it's your fault." Tino replied. Berwald looked almost satisfied, and Mathias felt the deserved, icy slap in his face. It would stay there for years. "You know why I don't mind it? One, because scientific developments are fantastic nowadays. Second, because you do mind. I remember when we were younger you'd hurt people just to laugh. You didn't care. Now you care. You're a better person, and that means a lot."

Through slight sobs, Mathias said, "You…have got the be the sweetest person in the world. I'm, I feel like I should…look, if either one of you wants to punch in the face right now, do it. I deserve it more than anything in the world."

Berwald at last came swiftly around from his side of the car. Tino said his name faintly, like a warning, but Mathias didn't care. He locked eyes with Berwald up until the moment when his fist slammed into his nose. Mathias heard the cracking of bone along with the rush of blood through his nostrils and flaming pain in his face. His head slamming backward onto concrete felt like nothing at all in comparison.

While he held his nose and eye, he heard Berwald take another step toward him, heard Tino hiss like a harpy, "You're done! Stop it!" and some quiet and angry reply from Berwald. A moment later, someone grabbed his hand and hurled him up, dragging him this way and that.. He tried to ask what they were doing and heard a reply from Berwald: "Takin' ya to the hospital. Yer bleedin' yer damn brains out. But we'll go t' the hospit'l in Kuningas where Tino was. It takes longer t' git there."

You have a new text message, sender, Al: Dude what the eff is going on with Tino? Is he ok? Does he hate you? Plz tell me!

Mathias sat on his couch in his apartment and did his best to cover it all: He forgives me but Berwald punched me so hard i cant see outta my right eye. Send. Well, it was the truth.

More specifically, the truth was that he wasn't sure if things would be okay. Berwald wanted to still be his friend, and also wanted him to fall into a viper pit. Tino said he forgave him, but Tino forgave people who stole cars. Tino had a new hand but it was fake. Aleksander had kissed him but wanted nothing to do with him. Oh, Aleksander.

He had been so worried about Tino he'd forgotten Aleksander. Tino deserved the attention more, granted, but Aleksander. Aleksander.

Mathias wanted to see him. Aleksander, jeg savner dig.

He went to the restaurant a few days later, since it'd suck if Aleksander had to see him with a bruised and broken nose. He was healed again and eager to see violet eyes adorably averting and a pale little mouth closing and filling with satisfaction, things he had dreamed about more than once now.

From what he could see upon entering the place, Lilli wasn't working tonight, which was a shame. Most of her coworkers were an assortment of jackasses and bitches, but he could probably ignore them if he really tried. More importantly was the emptiness of the bar. Aleksander wasn't there, not on any of the four sides and not even in any of the booths. Not sitting on the leather-topped bench by the door waiting for a seat. Not by the manager's office complaining about the waiters.

Goddammit. Mathias seated himself at the bar and glanced uninterestedly at the television screen above him. It was playing a live soccer game. The announcer spoke too fast for him to understand, but with every goal of the team in blue jerseys came a whoop from half the people in the restaurant. A redheaded waitress took his order for a hefty mug of Carlsberg.

He watched the game half the time and watched the cheering and yelling of the restaurant-goers the other half. The waitress brought him more beer and he downed it eagerly as the men around him did. Soccer fans knew how to have fun, apparently! A guy with a ponytail sitting a few seats away moved closer and leaned ridiculously close to the screen. The blue team scored again and he and Mathias smacked their hands together joyfully. A waitress walked by and made angry faces at them.

"Stiff bitch." He growled in her direction.

"Whos'a stiff bitch?" his new friend said.

"That girl with the braid. Any guy who's enjoyin' himself is automatically a dick." He felt his face darken, and recognized the feeling. "Hate girls like her."

"Man, she does that again, you oughta show her what's what!" exclaimed New Friend.

"Hey! My mama said to never hit girls!" Mathias exclaimed, and shoved New Friend to the side.

New Friend's shirt changed from green to blue and he may have done a backflip as he fell to the ground. Whoa. "Aughh…" he groaned, grinning as well. "God, that hurt. You should play soccer, dude! You'd…make a kick—ugh…augh!—kickass goalie. Are your legs that strong, too?"

"All of me is strong, dumbshit." Mathias replied loudly. Ah, loud. Felt good to be loud! "That not obvious? You want me to show you?" New Friend laughed and laughed. A guy sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant screamed a cheer. "Come on, get up. I'll show you, dumbshit." Mathias grabbed New Friend by the shoulder of his coat and lifted him up one-handed till he stood. He grasped his ugly little shoulder tight and began walking towards the doors, slow and heavy and purposeful. "Let's go outside so we dun disturb th' stiff bitch and her customers. I'll show you. I—" Mathias was forced to stop talking when the door shoved forward into his face.

Through the little glass panel near the top of the door, he could see fair-colored hair, and some rat-skinny guy tried to squeeze by in the gap between door and jamb. "Hey. Hey!" Mathias said, and pulled him aggressively through. "I was gonna go through, sir, but ya seem to have shoved the door in my fucking face."

As the alcohol faded momentarily, Mathias had a moment of clarity and saw the guy was more lean than skinny, and looked pissed as a woman on her period. Looked like a smart little dick who'd think he was better than him. He'd always hated stuffy little bastards like this. "You seem to be a drunken idiot, so maybe you should go sit down before you shove the door in your own fucking face." spat Smart Dick.

Mathias grabbed the guy's arm and he gasped in pain at his grip. "You keep mouthing me off and I'll put a fist in yer face, little rat."

"You'll what?"

"I'll punch you, so it'll hurt, which is what ya do to people who act like guaggh!" The next few seconds blurred: all he could recognize was that he could suddenly barely breathe, and he was lying on his back. He rolled instinctively—the ones who fought him back and managed this far always tried to stomp—and coughed. And coughed and coughed. "God—God—aughh!"

His throat hurt. Mathias stood up and his eyes climbed tiredly up the guy's slim legs and faltered somewhere around his torso, since he recognized some part of that guy. He didn't recognize his shirt. Or even his face, right then. What was it? It came to him unfortunately some three seconds later, when he realized it was everything.

Trying to talk turned out to be a mistake. It just caused more coughing, which made more blood go to his head, which made him see Aleksander all the more clearly and holy shit it was Aleksander. He'd just threatened to hit Aleksander. Fucking God, no.

Mathias got up but his first attempts to apologize, slurred but desperate, were stopped by the blonde's glaring, critical face and harsh pose. Every inch of him was turning into hate and disgust, and with every inch Mathias felt more and more horrified. He watched the lean blonde head the bar, where a waiter was standing with two to-go bags. Aleksander passed money to the waiter and took one of the bags. By this time Mathias was almost standing, and feeling more coherent and stable.

"Wait. Wait! Hey!" He reached for Aleksander's arm and held it fast. "Please, goddammit, please—don't—go!"

"I had guessed you were a violent drunk." Aleksander scoffed back. But he didn't try to pull his arm back.

"…Yeah. Yeah." Not much to add to that. "I lose it sometimes. Drunk or not. I think I told you about that. I'm so sorry, man. I almost punched your freakin' lights out and I should never have even—"

"I punched you in the throat. It evens out."

Mathias' inebriated mind was able to recognize that statement as weird. "No it doesn't—what? Please, seriously, I'm so, so sorry. What can I do to make you forgive me?"

His Norwegian wrested his arm away suddenly. Mathias was always good at reading movements (it made up for not being good at reading words) and he read disappointment in that. Not anger or frustration but—no. No. After weeks of this, Aleksander was just disappointed, and in between that moment and the one after he grasped around for an idea on how to make this man like him again, and how to recover his completely destroyed chances of making him reach out. But nothing came. Mathias asked him again what he could do to be forgiven. So many lifetimes and maybe another goal for the other team on the television went by before he finally heard: "You can have a deservedly painful and shameful hangover."

Mathias sighed. "Yeah. I can probably do that. But that can't be enough. I was this close to seriously hurting you. I'm so, so fucking sorry—"

"Fine. Good. I'm going home now."

He whisked out the door fast as a cat, leaving him alone, which was not okay. Mathias followed him outside to apologize again. His boots made a heavy thumping sound on the sidewalk that his half-drunk head heard like an frightening echo in a movie. Aleksander, whose steps were light and made no sound, turned around as he walked to stare like at him like he was an attacking bear. It was kind of cute. At least until, "Are you trying to follow me home? Go away or I'll call the police, rasshøl."

The Danish and Norwegian languages were close enough for him to understand the word. It pushed him away, but he pushed back. "I almost hit you. That's not fucking okay. I would never hit you, Aleksander. I totally deserved that punch in the throat. And I don't want you to hate me. Please." And he looked like he was considering it. Up until he sighed. That looked reached through Mathias' haze. He recognized it; Berwald used to make that face at him when he said something dumb. He didn't like it.

"I will forgive you if you stop following and pestering me." He said after way too long. "I want to go home and eat in peace, without a stalker."

Suddenly he was fed up with the resistance, all of it. He attacked it. "I don't think you're getting that I want you to seriously forgive me because I like you, Aleksander." He tried to study the other's reaction to that but there was just a cool expression of…nothing. Well, there was more he wanted to say, so here comes the goddamn cavalry."I don't care if you think I'm an annoying douchebag, I think you're interesting and you got damn nice eyes and I like listening to your voice. And I guess now you think I'm an annoying homo douchebag but I don't give a fuck about gender, 'cause I'd like you if you had boobs and your name was Alexandra, and I'd sure as hell kiss you again and have more dreams about you—"

"I'll eat with you at the restaurant again if you close your mouth."

Just a second before, Aleksander's face had exactly matched when he'd been kissed last week: lips parted and eyes a little too bright. Brows pushed slightly together and the whole body curled slightly, like he'd just experienced a burst of pleasure. One second of this reaction was enough to make Mathias close his mouth and let it soar up into a big smile. "Really?"

"Yes." Replied the other blond. "I work tomorrow and the morning after. But that evening, I'll be there. We can channel-surf for something obnoxious and violent that'll hold your interest. Please accept that offer and shut up."

He'd never been good at that "quit while you're ahead" crap, so didn't bother trying. "You sure listened to a lot of that before you told me to be quiet." He said with an even bigger grin. "Y'know, it's really fun to actually see emotions flying all over your face. Like just now. I wonder what part really got you the most—"

"Stop talking." Aleksander's face totally belied the fact that ten seconds ago, he'd looked like a blushing virgin. In front of a ticking time bomb. That was actually pretty fuckin' cute. But now he was cool again, his natural and kinda even admirable way. Mathias wondered what was really going through his head right now.

Watching the calm, pale face, Mathias asked, "If I stop talking that'll make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm done. Except for one last thing." He paused, waiting for some annoyed comment or a glare, but didn't get one. So he continued, less forceful than was normal for him, "kiss me goodnight." His Norwegian didn't say anything, just stood where he was and weakly glared. "Oh, come on. It's not like this'll be as intense as the last one."

Pause. He felt a breeze and remembered they were outside in Scandinavian winter. "I am not kissing a man," he said firmly.

"You did before."

"I didn't ask for that. You assaulted me." Aleksander replied. There was definitely a little bite to that sentence. "I should have punched you in the throat then, too."

"Well I'd take it in stride 'cause I'm a violent douchebag and I probably deserve to be punched." Mathias laughed. He thought of how Berwald had done just that this past week and cringed a little. Tino. "Come on, I'm not gonna freaking bite you. I didn't last time we ate together! And if you were seriously against me being—"

"You've already gotten a date out of me, against my will. I don't see why you need to be kissed on top of that victory."

Did he actually just call it that oh yes yes yes. Out of respect for the guy, Mathias tried not to look gloating when he said, "So it is a date? The day after tomorrow, you're going out with me?"

"No. But I can't see you acknowledging it as anything else, even though I was forced." Aleksander replied. He half-turned away. "Pray that your future girlfriend or boyfriend doesn't find that out your previous date had to be blackmailed. And for God's sake, don't drink yourself into oblivion that night. It's getting old watching you deliberately massacre your liver." Mathias immediately swore that he wouldn't drink, and felt a small trill of pleasure when Aleksander nodded to acknowledge that, to acknowledge him. He turned fully round, moving easily and coolly despite slick snow on the ground, and started walking away. He left Mathias with no kiss and no affection, but he did have hope still.

That he could make Aleksander react in these ways made him hope, and made him happy.

On their third night since leaving home, Gunnar informed them that they were almost out of food, and offered to leave his pet here and go into the town they could see nearby to fetch more. Aleksander tore the gun from his hands and forbade it. Towns this near to the coast were dangerous. Thieves and opportunists were everywhere, and the food that remained would have to do. Gunnar was commanded to eat Aleksander's share. He had always followed and obeyed his elder brother's words, and though the thought of the fallen gunmen from two days before burned in him still, he submitted.

That night, they slept on a blanket they had taken from an empty house, saving the clean one from home in a bag. They looked at the naked stars and told old stories to each other, legends that they should have grown out of, but treasured with each other. Quieting and smoothing his voice just so, Aleksander talked his brother to sleep.

He watched over their safety in the night. When his brother was awoken by ugly dreams, Aleksander sang him a song that Gunnar had so loved when he was younger, and pretended nowadays that he didn't love it still.

Tomorrow would be the challenging day. Once they were on the right area of the coast, they would see the crowds again, others like themselves who were frightened and abandoned by the government that had fled and the depleting store shelves. "Food Crisis in War-torn Norway," was the last headline he'd seen online, two weeks before. But food was not all the war had taken away.

The crowds were like the walking dead in their relentlessness to be satiated and freed, and some of them would kill. Aleksander pitied them, and prayed for them, and worried that he might have to shoot them, too. He worried that they might not find a boat after all. Perhaps the crowds gathered for the circulated promise of a boat out of the country and not one that really existed. But there was no reason for the rest of the world to abandon their nation like that.

He was thankful for Narfi, who clucked and pecked at his hands whenever he felt sleep creeping in upon him. Together, they watched the land for predators, or other desperate people, who could be ready to kill.

Work was a breeze. Work was nothing.

Work was that single breath where Mr. Bonnefoy told him "Mon Dieu, you're working excellently today, Mathias, what happened to you?" and he lifted and examined fifty-nine boxes in an hour and also had a lunch break with that funny Korean guy and other unimportant stuff. It was done quick, good, and then it was time to go to bed and then go to work again, not on schedule but just because he needed to waste the time, and right after he went home and got ready. He had a date.

It was thrilling, perfect, awesome that all of a sudden he was dating Aleksander when prior to this day he had only been wishing for it. So it was literally a wish come true. It wasn't under the best circumstances, and it only satisfied about ten percent of how much he wanted to be with and touch and understand this foreign, aloof not-quite-stranger, but it was a step in the right direction.

He was counting this as their second date, whatever Aleksander said. Mathias would do whatever it took to make the Norwegian enjoy himself, and start to like him in return. Or further the process. Because Aleksander had to like him at least a little, or care about his thoughts at the least, otherwise he would have totally pushed Mathias away. Hell, he could just…never come to the restaurant again, but he did, knowing the person he'd find there at least some of the time.

Mathias wondered again what Aleksander thought about him. He thought about it the whole way to the restaurant. There were many words, many was funny, gorgeous, snappy dresser, drunkard, loud, annoying, clingy, off-putting, offensive, violent, dangerous, gay freak, I'll call the cops on you, leave me alone.

The more he thought about it, the more the words spiraled down to hell and the more he could see himself from the viewpoint of someone stoic and beautiful and quiet: he probably did seem like a relentless homo-drunkard-asshole pursuing a person they were so head-over-heels about it just couldn't be helped, and Mathias felt really okay with just saying that this was moving kinda fast and stuff but he hadn't ever been so interested, so attracted to, so fiercely wanting to be around and touch another person that it was actually rather pathetic and weird for a guy like him, but he could see Aleksander right now, standing by the parking lot, and hell if Mathias didn't pick up speed and run at the skinny little thing like a starving lion.

The only object in his vision right now (was wearing his hairclip in perfect position and some good snow boots) was saying stop or what's wrong with you or other annoying words he'd heard before but yet again failed to stop him. The only thing that stopped him was the really embarrassing part where Aleksander totally dodged his vicious embrace and he practically fell onto his stomach.

Mathias turned around, not quite standing up, more consumed by something really urgent and touchy-feely every second. If he didn't hug Aleksander, some shit would fucking explode. But there was Aleksander saying, "You have ten seconds to explain why you're running like a drug addict, or I'm kicking you goddamned teeth in."

More of that deflecting stuff. It was hard to say in the right words, but that hurt. "That was just gonna be an I'm-sorry hug." He explained. It sounded too quiet, not like him at all. "For being an annoying douchebag."

"I think we've been through this part already."

"Not really, we haven't. If we'd done this part then I wouldn't feel like such a selfish fuck. And I would care more about whether or not you actually like me instead of just trying to force that to happen." He paused once to breathe, and to take in the fact that the other's face was just the same amount of cool and expressionless as it had been before. Mathias tried one more time. "Aleksander, do you even like me? Actually?"

Of course there would be a pause again. It was Aleksander stalling, Aleksander sipping from a drink, doing everything possible to avoid speaking to him. Which was all just prelude to the part where he got to leave and be alone again. Mathias thought these things, these sureties, even as he saw the fine face before him change, and the mouth pull to the side slightly. A just-barely-angered expression. Or confused. Or exposed. It was real emotion. The real rejection was coming but nothing could stop him from smiling, too, and loving what he saw.

The evening around them was so still he could hear the swift intake of breath, preparing the hated words. They came. "I like you more than I thought I would."

Did he? Did he—

Somewhere in his chest area was a very real, very uncomfortable twisting feeling, like something had gone in and squeezed his heart. "Can I hug you now?"

"Fine."

He gave the same lion-hug he'd tried the first time, the just-a-little-bone-crushing inescapable one. He could finally feel Aleksander all around, and even his hands which were barely moving could now feel his soft clothes under their fingerpads, and one pinky had found some skin between his pant line and a part of his shirt that was riding up. It just made him grin like crazy even more and think of his dream. Aleksander groaned a little and turned his head, which reminded Mathias of a kitten or something so he had to hug harder, move his hands around to feel him, and then kiss his little Norwegian's temple because Jesus fuck, he was so cute.

Also his shoulder was severely hurting, like whoa. Mathias had a little vision that it had been hit with an expert kung fu chop, which would not be surprising. If Aleksander could twist away from his bear hugs and aim a perfect punch to the throat, he probably knew some other vicious defense tricks, too. Serious pain going on right now in his torso-and-shoulder area, but he let Aleksander go peacefully with no chiding or pretending to smack him for his insolence. He cricked his neck and pushed a hand cheerily through his own hair.

Beyond his closed eyelids he heard, "I've never dated a man before." and Mathias sighed easily once.

"S'okay. I guess I never have either." He tacked on to the end, "I mean, one high school boyfriend who lasted like a month probably doesn't count. But I'm fine with it. I know you're still all nervous about it."

"I am." He admitted it right there, but it was still coated in his normal voice, which made it sound like no great admission at all. That he would try and hide it like that made Mathias chuckle.

"It's fine, Aleksander. Hey, no one's gonna give you shit about it if you're walking around with me, 'kay? I'm a very large fucking beast and no one has not regretted picking a fight with me since I was ten. But if you still feel bad, you tell me. I'll make it better. You know it from experience now, but I'll tell ya anyway I'm really good with comforting hugs. FYI." He added at the end, just for laughs.

Just-for-laughs worked. A little. It made Aleksander chuckle this time. His lips definitely moved up a little bit, and his eyes definitely showed part of a smile. They disappeared quickly like normal, but they had been there. No doubt, not one. So Mathias took this bit of happiness and took off with it. "So we're dating now, right? What are we gonna do?"

"We're going to walk down the road till we think of something to do." His Norwegian replied. The restaurant's got senior night right now and I won't have you disturbing the elderly or inducing heart attacks." Mathias said that was fair enough, and they started walking. They crossed the intersection past the shoe repairman and the fancy school, while he talked.

"Soooo, this should be the part where you tell me some interesting stuff about yourself, 'cause if we're dating I need to know you're not an evil serial killer who planned all this just to seduce and kill me."

"…My last name is Bondevik."

"Cool. I'm Mathias Køhler, nice to meet you. Have we met before?"

"Is that a joke?"

"I guess not, since it didn't work. Um. Okay. Oh! Dude! This is all weird since I just spent days and days trying to get your attention, but could you tell me about your brother? I mean, that puffin story just stuck in my head and I think it's awesome. Do you guys still have it?"

"I do." Aleksander nodded. "She lives and acts like a housecat, and occasionally sleeps on my bed. A very unique pet, and quite well-behaved." Mathias was astounded to see him go off on a quiet but steady tangent about Narfi the puffin and various oddities and incidents connected to her. They walked in the still cold for an hour; sometime during this period Mathias realized he'd been labeling Aleksander as 'his Norwegian' for a while now, and it excited him. Aleksander was his now. He silently awaited the day where he would let Mathias call him Aleks.

They came to the coast just past noon, with their one bag and Narfi and the gun. Down the hill were the people, the walking dead.

The rumors of the boat had been true. There was a small cargo ship docked behind a metal fence, and four gunmen stood on its deck. They gazed upon the dozens upon dozens of people behind the fence who clawed and screamed and begged for passage. More than one trampled individual lay under their shuffling feet, and Aleksander would never lose the dream-faint idea that they were not humans anymore.

"We can't go down there. We can't. They'll kill us."

Aleksander took his brother's arm, and made his promise again. "Gunnar, we will leave here. We will take a place on that boat. We'll leave and be safe, I swear. Don't you trust me, lillebroren?" Gunnar said that he did, so they walked down together. The noise increased, and their legs shook with fear. But the promise was made, so neither would stop. They reached the crowd and shoved through, shoved someone nearly to the ground, and searched for a gate together.

They struggled and pulled for a time they could not track. Men and women and three children pulled at their clothes, asking for help, demanding they move, telling them to get the fuck out of their way. Aleksander beat them away, screamed, kicked the men who tried to pull his little brother away. They couldn't know how long it had been, but the gunmen on the boat suddenly fell.

Three of the four fell into the sea, and three more appeared from belowdecks with larger guns. It was these men, and the remainder, who strode off the boat, across the small pier, and stood before the fence. Aleksander could see their intentions in their darkened eyes, and pulled his brother flat onto the ground.

Innumerable shots ran over their heads, and they watched blood sprays fall on the other's face. On Gunnar's was the hidden, fearful hate he felt for the entire war, for ruining his country and his home. Aleksander pulled him close and shielded his eyes. A body fell on them both, but it was quickly removed.

One of the shooters had used a key to come through the fence, and now stood above them. He shook his head and a grin appeared on his crazed, cracked lips. Only he and the two brothers remained by the fence; the crowd had backed away and now lay splayed on their backs and bleeding. Their screaming had lessened to nearly nothing. Now, there was no noise.

"I love this. Ah, I love this. I can probably win the bet. You just made this job a lot easier, kid." His rifle came down and pointed its vast barrel at them, an unending black eye. "Boy in blue. Get up." A second man had come from the dock, a second gun pointed at him. Aleksander got up and stood before the two strangers.

"You and these people want a ride across the channel, little bitch? You want to go to good old Denmark? Well, fine! We'll take you there, but such niceties don't come free. Let me think a minute what we want!"

Another appeared out of nowhere and retrieved their small gun from where it had fallen on the ground. The man brought it closer, but pointed backwards. He shoved it into Aleksander's hands, but it was only dropped, retrieved, dropped again. The others were pulling up Gunnar, forcing him to sit. Aleksander's face twisted, fell, and tears came unheeded from his eyes as he saw that Gunnar, too, knew. The promise was gone, the nights together and all their life now was behind them, and Aleksander's tears would not stop.

One of the gunmen became angered and struck Aleksander across the face. He gave him the small gun once more, and helped him point it forward. It shook.

"You and those people want passage out of the war zone, you will shoot him. Right now."

…I told you it would be dark.

You're not done with that flashback yet, but you have now seen both Mathias' "darkest evening" and a large piece of Aleksander's. I'm glad to finally put my title to use. I'm quite fond of the story title.

Well, now. I waited nearly two years to finally write down that last flashback. To think, I started this fanfiction during the summer between junior and senior years, and now I'm a college freshman and updating again. Blame Naruto for thoroughly dominating my anime loves (it's always been my most beloved anime) but Hetalia fights a close second, and it appears to be taking over strongly.

I actually have been in a pretty powerful RoChu mood recently and am trying to write some of that to suit my own tastes (China = capable, cute and wise uke, Russia = uber-loving, possessive seme) but this chapter was close to finished so I decided to take that last stride with it. Like usual when I update anything, I finish the product late at night and am posting it at the cost of some lost sleep. That's how I roll.

Btw, apologies if Denmark DID sound or act rather obsessed, but that's how I like my seme characters. If you dislike the idea, I suggest you...deal with it.