A.N: Here comes the beginning of the end. It won't be happy. Skip to ch 9.2 for the 'better' ending
Bills, documents, more bills, papers to sign, meeting to attend, family to see and talk to...
Willem thinks he's about to murder someone.
Two weeks.
Two weeks since he walked out of the asylum a free man. Two weeks of feeling more like a prisoner than ever before.
Sighing he glances at the clock on the wall, cursing loudly as he realises that once again he has no time at all to visit Erik.
Little miss Zwingli didn't inform him that he had to abide by strict visitors times and rules – something that greatly conflicts with his already incredibly hectic schedule.
He's tried a grand total of 8 times. Each one a failure.
One nurse snappily told him to leave the other patients alone and disappear.
Odd how they treat him differently when he's no longer their responsibility...
He's sent letters. Every day.
No reply yet.
Tightening his grip around his pencil he decides to try again. Perhaps Erik only is allowed mail every once in a while? He never got letters before, so Willem doesn't know about the procedure.
His own mail had to be screened and scrutinised – in case he smuggled drugs inside to the asylum.
Not that he'd see why Erik would do that. Some hallucinogenic drugs wouldn't do much more harm than what his broken mind already has been through.
"Erik
Sorry. Tried visiting, but they still don't allow me to visit you out of hours, and I've never seen so much paperwork in my life.
Don't worry though – they can't get rid of me that easily.
Yours
Willem"
He stares at the letter before smiling to himself; drawing a few flowers in the corner.
He's sure Erik will appreciate that.
Placing the letter in his briefcase for posting tomorrow he heads downstairs to the kitchen for a bite to eat before his sister comes to yell at him about getting a proper night's sleep.
Another week of mountains of paperwork passes – this time he will manage to see Erik, he's adamant on it. His review with the 'asylum' is at 9.
The interview will only be a short formality and then there are blood samples to take.
At most he'll be occupied for two hours. Visiting hours are from 10 till 2.
He's got plenty of time.
Walking down the disgusting beige corridor he feels a lot more confident than last time.
He's not touched anything deemed illegal for three weeks. Even alcohol and cigarettes have been cut back drastically.
His cousin Gilbert had to do a double take when Willem refused that second beer. Even Ludwig lost his composure at his decline for a drink as Margaret had to invent some excuse about his medication and mixing alcohol being frowned upon, lest should their German-born cousins try to pour more alcohol down his throat to 'cure' him.
The medication are for sleepless nights and to still the worst cravings should he get them – mixing them with alcohol won't do much more than make him a bit more sleepy. He doesn't want to drink alcohol for the simple reason that in his mind it's unfair.
Erik told him he really loved having a drink every now and then. Beer, vodka and some strange brown liquid called Aquavit. Whenever someone offers Willem a drink his mind wanders back to Erik and the asylum and it almost makes him physically sick.
He knows Erik would probably punch him for thinking like this, but he can't help it. He can't truly enjoy himself when the knowledge of Erik still being a prisoner is so clearly imprinted in his mind.
It's the young blonde nurse who takes the blood sample, making polite conversation as always. He doesn't have anything against her. She's nothing short of adorable.
However; he couldn't care less about her policeman brother. All he wants is to see Erik again.
Three whole weeks is far too long.
As he rubs the small band-aid on his arm, he stares intently at the door. He has no patience right now with anyone. They've kept him for too long already. 4 minutes and 55 seconds longer than needed.
"There, all done Mr Van Gent. You can go home now."
The nurse smiles sweetly at him as she puts away the blood samples in what he figures is some form of cooler.
"Home? No way...I'm visiting Erik."
The young girl freezes and stares at him with wide eyes.
"I-I'm afraid that's impossible," she stammers.
"Impossible? What the fuck are you on about? Of course I can visit him! You said so before I left," Willem snarls as he stands up to tower over the petite woman. He's lost every once of polite patience he had – this is simply ridiculous.
Nurse Zwingly seems to shake out of fear as she tries to meet his eyes. As soon as she catches a glimpse of them her head snaps back down, staring at her feet as she takes a step backwards. Like a baby rabbit face to face with a lion.
"I'm sorry, I thought you had been informed..."
"Informed about what?" Willem doesn't like where this conversation is going.
The nurse fidgets nervously before meeting his eyes – her own on the brink of tears.
"Mr Sørensen is no longer here."
That short and simple sentence is enough to send Willem entire word crashing down.
"You, mean he's been transferred, right?" he asks, evne if he known that's probably not the case.
"No," the nurse replies softly. "He's dead," she whispers softy, sadness evident in her voice.
It's like someone released a giant flood over his life, killing everything in it's wake.
Willem blinks and shakes his head – he must be dreaming.
"You're lying...you have to be...he put you up to this...right? This is all a joke!"
But the look in the nurse's eyes tell him the truth – it's not a lie. Erik really is gone.
Willem can feel his chest tighten up as the room starts to spin – his vision darkening at the edges.
"Mr Van Gent!"
He snaps out of it at the sound of her distressed cry. Steadying himself on the chair, he narrowly avoid sinking down in it.
"I'm so sorry...I...I really did think you had been informed already..."
Willem swallows the lump in his throat before shaking his head.
"Oh.." comes the soft reply from Nurse Zwingli. There are no words of comfort – because right now she can't think of how to comfort that large and to her eyes: terrifying man.
"I...I need to sit down."
"Of course." comes the understanding reply as Willem doesn't even care for the chair, simply slumping down onto the floor – leaning heavily against the wall as he cradles his head in his hands.
The young nurse seem to be unable to stand still, fidgeting a lot as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. Usually he'd tell her to stop, but he can't bring himself to speak right now – his voice would only betray him.
After 5 minutes and 49 seconds the nurse decides she needs to do something. Willem can't stay in this room all day.
"D-Did you know he had a brother?"
Willem only nods.
"Do you know where he is?" she asks softly.
He shakes his head.
"Then...then that makes you his closest family..."
That takes him by surprise.
"What do you mean? I'm not family..."
"You're the closest he has..."
"Bullshit. He has a brother."
"Yes, but we were unable to contact him – no one knows where he is."
The blonde girl kneels down in front of him, trying her best to smile sweetly.
Willem remembers Erik's words. He's dead to his brother. Emil probably has his own life perfectly unaware his brother has spent the last few years alive in the asylum.
"Okay, you can't find him, but what does that matter anyway? He's dead! What do you want from me?"
Lilli flinches before standing up straight, retrieving some keys from her uniform-pockets.
"Erik had possessions...if you're his closest 'kin' they then befall to you."
Willem stares is shock. Shaking his head he gets back on his feet; albeit very slowly – as if he's having to relearn everything about controlling his own body's movements. The way she uses to word 'kin' makes him blush – it's laden with more than just an implication of friendship. No, it holds much more emotions and feelings than a simple word of friendship. And it's true: Erik was – no; is, more than a friend. He can't bring himself to think in the past tense. Dead or not, Erik is still someone close to him.
"Come on...I'll take you to the storage room."
He follows after her in silence, his mind still not able to process Erik is gone – forever.
The storage room is in the basement, the door being a thick steel one with 'Storage' crudely painted onto it. The nurse fumbles with her keys, but eventually manages to unlock the door – however; Willem has to help her open it when her petite body doesn't amount to enough strength to move the heavy vault door.
'Bomb shelter' he thinks to himself once he sees the inside of the 'storage' room. It's definitively an old bomb shelter, the thick door only further proof as they step over the high threshold.
Lilli finds the few cardboard boxes with Erik's possessions quickly – they're all the way in the front of the room, other boxes further back covered with so much dust Willem has to try his best not to stare at them. It's clear this is a place to store and forget things.
But Willem isn't going to forget Erik any time soon.
Kneeling down next to the boxes he carefully pries them open. The first one is full of Erik's clothes. Blinking he pulls out a black t-shirt, and despite the terrible news he has to smile.
A battle axe adorns the front of the t-shirt.
"See Erik...they kept it safe for you." he mumbles as he folds the garment carefully up before placing it back with the rest.
With slow and careful movements he opens the next box, 'smiling' back at him is the picture of Erik and Emil. Brushing over the old glass he stares at the picture for a long time. He's glad the young woman hasn't said anything, instead waiting patiently for him to finish – he appreciates that a lot.
He needs time. Time to think and sort his thoughts out.
Prying the old photograph out of it's frame he carefully slides it into his coat's inner-pocket, taking great care not to fold the photograph. It's the only picture he now has of Erik.
He'll get a new frame for it, make sure to keep it out of strong sunlight – and never let anyone else touch it.
His eyes wander back to the box, frowning as he sees the painting he gave the Nordic male. Picking it up he studies it carefully; he's still rather proud of it. Flipping it around he does a double take when he notices his signature is not the only thing written on the back of the canvas.
Erik's added something.
His handwriting neat but small; Willem narrows his eyes and reads it out loud to himself.
"Thank you for everything – Erik"
Taking a deep breath he runs his fingers over the small words. The lump in his throat growing bigger as his eyes sting, threatening with a flood of tears should he not get his emotions under control.
Taking a deep breath, Willem manges to keep the tears at bay as he puts the painting carefully down again.
There's a large brown envelope at the bottom of the cardboard box, with only the word 'Takk' scribbled onto it.
It's bulging with what appears to be paper; and once he opens it his suspicion is confirmed.
However; it's not just paper – it's his own letters to Erik.
Each and every single one is there. He counts them all carefully, rather surprised over how worn they all look despite being relatively new – Erik must have read them over and over again.
Out of the entire pile there is only one letter that doesn't belong. It's written on a different type of paper and not in an envelope like the others, instead it's folded in two with the word 'Willem' neatly written on one side.
For what seems like ages he simply stares at the piece of paper, before he slowly unfolds it. It's dated only 3 days ago. Reading the words inside with scrutiny Willem tries to not think too much about how recently this was written.
"Dear Willem
I presume you are angry at me, perhaps you even hate or resent me for what I have done.
I will not ask for your forgiveness, I certainly am not worthy of it.
Yet I wish to thank you.
You made these past months worth living.
Perhaps I'll see you again.
Yours always
Erik Alexander Sørensen"
Willem stares at the neat handwriting – re-reading the letter again and again.
What he did... No, Willem can't hate him for it – yet he can't forgive him either.
It hurts when he breathes to think that Erik ended his own life – no warning, no hints: no nothing.
Erik never cried for help or asked to be saved. It's as if he already had it all planned out.
"Nurse...?" He carefully turns to the petite woman waiting outside "Was...was Erik on any antidepressants?" he inquires with a shaky voice
The young woman looks around the empty cellar before nodding, as if she's worried telling him it will perhaps breach some code of conduct.
"He was. He went off them while you were here, but then had to go back on them when you left..." she admits with a hint of sadness in her voice.
Willem feels his chest tighten at her words.
Erik didn't need antidepressants as long as he had been here...the realisation is warming and guilt-inducing all at the same time.
He's happy he somehow did manage to brighten Erik's cold life – even for just a short while; yet he feels guilty for leaving.
Willem can't help but feel that somehow Erik might still be alive had he not left.
There are so many questions still left unanswered as he starts to move the boxes out of the store room.
With the help of some of the nurses Willem loads Erik's stuff in the back of the car – he'll sort through it all when he comes home. Right now he just wants to get away from the asylum and the terrible news he's received.
The local graveyard is only a short drive away from here – it's easy to find.
Erik's eternal resting place isn't difficult to spot either, the loose and dark soil a contrast to the other more overgrown and green graves.
His feet shuffle along the short grass towards the grave. The grey slab of stone resembling a mountain in it's shape, the Nordic's name neatly carved into the stone for then to be painted in with silver paint. It's a beautiful grave – someone has laid little wild-flowers on it, and a grave-candle is still burning to the left of the stone. Probably the work of one of the nurses.
For a long time he simply stares at the grave, not even caring as little drops of water start to fall around him.
"Why?" he whispers, not to himself – but to Erik.
"Why?" louder this time.
"Why the fuck did you do this!" his voice raised in anger as he stomps his foot angrily down into the soft grass, leaving a deep imprint of his boot.
"Did you not consider my feelings? Did you not care about me? Your brother? Anyone!" he screams at the grave, fists clenched tightly.
"You fucking egoistical son of a whore!" Willem yells angrily and with all the strength he can muster he kicks the headstone, the grey slab shifting from 90 degrees to 60 from the sheer force of his kick.
Staring at the crooked gravestone, Willem sinks to his knees. His entire body deflates as if he's a balloon loosing it's air.
With shaky hands he pulls the gravestone upright again, embracing it once it's straight.
"I'm sorry, please Erik. You can't do this. You can't leave me alone...not now...not ever." he whispers as the tears finally roll down his cheeks.
There is no way he can hold them back any more as he grips the loose soil tightly, his entire body shaking as he sobs loudly over the Norseman's grave.
It's hours later when he finally gets back into his car, coat soaked by the rain and mud-stains all over his trousers.
All of Erik's belongings are in the back of his car – and even if there are some things Willem will want to keep as a memory himself he knows that somewhere out there is Erik's little brother – and God knows he deserves to at least know his brother is gone.
Revving the car to life, Willem swears he'll find Emil – whatever it takes, he'll do it.
