A/N: So here I am, starting up a new story before finishing up the previous one! I just couldn't help it, I've had the idea for quite a while now, so yeah. By the way, the title means 'The Trip' in Icelandic (According to Google Translate). I hope you guys like it!
Warnings: Iceland's POV, DenNor, IceHong (Am I the only one who just doesn't see Iceland as an uke?), language, mentions of slight domestic abuse, and rating might go up. Oh, and this is an AU where Ice is Norway's son.
First of all, I would like to state that this is NOT a diary, but more of a journal. You might be wondering why I'm writing this. Well, it is because I would like to record everything that happened to me during my teenage years, so I can remember it when I'm older. I guess I should introduce myself now, shouldn't I? Well, my name is Emil Steilsson. I don't think you want to know anything else, since I'm writing this for my future self, after all. Now, I will start my story.
The summer I turned fifteen and my adoptive father, Mathias Køhler, bought Mr. Puffin for me, we moved to a small village in Denmark. We had been living in Copenhagen, in the same country, but Mathias thought it would be a nice idea to 'clear our heads' and 'escape the city'. It had been quite good until now, and by now we'd been living there for around two weeks. You could say that my life was basically perfect, but really, it wasn't. Mathias was a caring father, and even tough I knew that he only did things to help me, I wish that sometimes he would mind his own business and leave me alone.
Like today.
I was walking home from the small grocery store on the corner, my gaze flickering between the light gray pavement and the green, vivid trees. The village was truly beautiful, to say the least. The houses were small and cozy-looking, and the neighbors were friendly. Kind of that clichéd perfect neighborhood in horror movies, where the kindest old man in the street ends up being a psychopathic murderer. What I'm trying to say is, looks can deceive people from your true self. For example, that's what happens with me. Whenever Mathias drags me into one of the Køhler family reunions, I always end up sitting alone in the kitchen, eating licorice. I'm not trying to say that being alone bothers me— in fact, it is much better than to be near Mathias' screaming nieces —but I have overheard father's aunts talking about me. They only say that I'm a boring little boy who is trying to act like a grown-up.
Like I said before, the point of this journal is recording my life, not complaining. But hell, I swear those ladies are dead-wrong. I don't try to act like a grown-up, but I am mature, and they should have some respect for me, even tough I'm younger. I believe that everybody should respect each other, but whenever I comment the issue with Mathias, he only dismisses it and offers me a beer, which I never accept. Maybe that commercial which said that beer killed brain cells was true.
Okay, I think I should go back to the story. So I was walking, with a plastic bag in hand, and then I turned to walk down the cobblestone path which lead to the front door. I searched for my keys and when I finally found them I unlocked the door, only to be greeted by a very-drunk Mathias watching football on TV. He was loudly complaining about how his favorite team was losing, and when he saw me, he stood up and quickly wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. I could have sworn I was about to choke. "Father, I bought some milk and eggs for tomorrow breakfast." I informed him after I was released, and put away the groceries in the fridge.
"Oh, my little son is growing up! I think we should have a father-to-son talk, ja?" Asked a drunk Mathias, stumbling towards me.
"I don't think so…" I replied quietly, wanting to escape from him as soon as possible and run into my room. Let's just say that drunk Mathias wasn't exactly as nice as when sober.
"But there's something I wanted to talk to you about!" He insisted, taking another gulp from his can of beer. Seeing as he was so eager on the subject I nodded at him, in fear of making him mad again. As cheerful and happy as he was, it wasn't pretty to make him angry. I still had a faint trace of a bruise on my left cheek from when that happened. And the worst part was that after he hit me, he broke down into tears and hugged me, mumbling unintelligible apologies. "So, as you already know I'm your adoptive father… Then how about we go on a road trip to meet your biological father?" Mathias asked enthusiastically, even tough it wasn't a question, but a statement.
"And where does he live?" I inquired, hopping to sit on the rusticwooden counter.
"In Norway!" The Danish man exclaimed happily, and I could see in his face that all the details were coming. "You see, while I was cleaning the attic a couple days ago, I stumbled across your adoption papers, so I thought it would be nice for you to meet him. It said that his name is Lukas Bondevik- so I don't understand why your surname is Stoelssen -and I also read that he lives in northern Norway."
To be honest, I thought that his plan was quite dumb. You can't simply go to a foreign country and walk around asking for a person, can you? But from the look in his eyes, I knew that that was exactly what he'd planned.
Oh well, it couldn't be exactly that bad, could it?
After all, ever since I was a little boy I'd been wondering how my real father was like. But what didn't sound appealing at all was that it would be a road trip. I mean, I have seen in several movies how all sorts of bad things happen in road trips- couldn't we just take a plane to Norway? But knowing Mathias, that wasn't an option at all. I knew just how much he loved to experience new things, and clearly, he was only using this as an excuse to escape his dull daily life.
But I guess I would give father's 'fantastic' idea a chance.
