The war had just ended.
But this was a different war.
This was a war not fought with weapons, but with ideals, politics, and threat of nuclear annihilation. As America and Russia met in Iceland's capital, the whole world watched as the very thing that had defined years of culture eroded, washed away by the tide into history as another footnote on another page.
In the background of the signing was a young boy, white haired with a faint trace of fading, childish freckles, grinning awkwardly as he fumbled with the ends of his clothes, obviously uncomfortable even though he wasn't the center of attention. The television faded from the scene, a new shot, and a new bulletin appearing underneath while the newscaster continued to ramble and chatter.
Halvard, sitting amused on the couch next to Berwald, set the remote aside and pointed at where the strange boy used to be.
"Poor Jóhannes. He doesn't know what to do with himself."
"'s a big th'ng."
"Of course it is. The Cold War is over."
"Nn."
Halvard turns off the television, tired of the same sound bites and same words being repeated, and sits there.
"You are kind of like my other brother," he sighs, curling up against Berwald's chest and breathing in the musky smoky wood smell that was interlaced in between the fibers of Berwald's clothes. He chuckles to himself before wrapping his arms around Berwald's neck, sighing, and enjoying the thumping sound of the larger man's heart. It soothed Halvard, and he began to dose off, eyelids drooping as he concentrated on that single steady sound.
"Nn. No sleep."
When Halvard didn't move, Berwald shifted himself, unlatching him from his body and pushing him back.
"You saying you don't like me?" Halvard said, the characteristic tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
"Nah. Like ya. But 'f Tino er Henrik saw, they'd be jealo's."
Halvard moved, stretching his limbs, his bones cracking as he stood to his feet for a moment before falling back against the couch again.
"Thanks."
"Mn?"
"For being there for me when times got rough."
"Ya help'd me too."
"I did not."
"Ya kept me comp'ny when I was lonely."
"We couldn't be with people we wanted to be with, so we settled for one another. Pathetic."
"Eh."
"…You're still important to me, even if I don't love you."
"Ya too."
"I'm glad."
There is something about deep platonic love that is hard to explain. You care so deeply for someone, and yet you don't want them as your lover. Best friends, is a close phrase, but not even that describes the kind of relationship that platonic love is. But a lot of things don't need to be described. They are just fine as they are—pure, simple, and unwavering.
"'n the last letter ya sent ta Henrik. What d'ya say?"
Halvard freezes, sitting up, biting his lower lip.
"I can do better than tell you. I can show you. Henrik gave it back to me."
Berwald gave him a strange look. "Nn?"
"It still exists."