dry retches i'll write three chapters and if i havent gotten a decent response out of this i'll stop riiiiight there dont want to be too much of a burden on everybody with my bullshit writing haha

Thank you so much for everything so far it's really made this story fun to write!

Warn-U - Ayshay

It was okay the first few months of living with the Dane. He was hardly around and when he was there he was either getting smashed by himself or looking over piles and piles of paper work. On the rare occasion Lars would find him curled up half naked on the couch with a novel and a abnormally sized mug of coffee. Or occasionally in the early hours of the morning he'd find him on the balcony. The music from his headphones controlling his body to sway from side to side with the beat. His expression calm and eyes glazed over as if under a spell until he really started moving his feet and hands. On several occasions he'd found him with his hands out on either side of him as if he had wings and his head tipped back with a smile as the wind ruffled his hair.

Once, three months after he'd moved in, he'd been the one to pull the Dane off the ledge of the railing. The Dane held onto the railing with a single hand and looked down at the drop below his feet and murmured to himself about how easy it would be. That was the first time fear tore Lars down to his rawest form and caused silent tears to slip down his cheeks. He gripped on as tight as he could to the Dane who was so close to letting the ground swallow him up and dragged him back into the flat. He whispered obscenities to the maniac who thought it fun to hang off balconies. Hot tears stung his cheeks and Mathias gave him a hollow smile in return.

An attempt for death to lead him by hand away from the world? He would probably never know.

They never talked about that night again. They never talked about how Lars had held the other close who looked at him curiously with his lips pulled down and his eyes made the Dutchman feel as if the blonde had known him all his life and even before. "You've got a bomb between your hands and the weight of the world between your shoulders. Why do you care so much?" Mathias muttered, his hand at the Dutchman's cheek and flashed him smile 24, it was sad almost. "You only like the idea of me being your friend, you don't general like me...you should have let me go." And that charming default grin broke through 24 until he passed out limp from exhaustion in Lars' arms. He was envious.

He'd learnt that the Dane had a job aside from pouting in front of a camera, businessman he guessed from the way he talked about his job and the amount of sheets of paper he came home with. Mathias would leave every so often with a suitcase in his hands and he reminded to keep their living space clean/no fucking parties. And who exactly was Lars going to party with? He was only acquainted with a class full of 19 year olds and a handful of teachers, though he did however have his sister over when he was exhausted and bored of marking term papers on psychology and looking over lecture schedules. Only his first six months of taking up the job after working his ass off for 4 years straight after high school to get his degree and he was already considering taking up alcoholism to deal with the idiotic responses he got to some of his questions.

But the more times he spent around the blonde no matter how fleeting those moments were, were gradually beginning to grow on him until he looked forward to when they would sit in front of the little electric fire place and bitch about everything they could over a bottle of whatever suited their tastes. Mathias would cook dinner, strip off his jacket and waistcoat, loosen his tie and enjoy the night with Lars. It always became apparent in those small moments how the Dane's moods fluctuated and how quickly they did it, he'd hide it perfectly but his voice would grow strained and his eyes guarded whenever he was uncomfortable with whatever thoughts, whatever feelings raced around in that head of his.

He barely spoke of his job when they had the night together, rather he let Lars talk about his own and he would laugh openly when he was amused and sit back with a nearly blank expression of concentration when he spoke. And Lars didn't understand why he was so comfortable talking like that to the Dane when he pretty much shat himself when he spoke to a class of god knows how many about the human mind. The blonde was unbelievably charming in the way he presented himself, in the way he spoke and even in the way he fucking laughed. It was as if he'd found something that worked better than anything to keep him calm, his own personal brand of smack and he could covet it subtly for as long as he wanted. Or at least until he fucked up.

"What are you parents like?" Mathias asked one night, lipping the rim of his wine glass.

"Dead." Lars replied matter-of-factually swishing the red red liquor lazily to make the scent shift. "Double suicide when I was 3 so I never got to know them. Shoved in the system straight away with my sister until our grandparents took us in. You?" Unthinkingly he asked and bit down on his tongue as soon as the You? slipped out.

"Oh fuck I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be like I said I didn't really know them." The Dutchman sat back, true it left a dull ache in his chest but he didn't really feel any true loss. "Are you going to answer my question?'

"You already know."

The stare Mathias gave him made him turn away instantly, it was knowing and he cursed under his breath, immediately washing his shame down with a mouthful of wine. They lapsed back into quiet, drinking side by side and enjoying the warmth that came from both fire and the wash of alcohol that started to give them the illusion of heat. Lars however, had to force down what he could, the fluid warmed to room temperature beside the fireplace and it moved thickly down his throat, disgustingly warm but he would not complain even if it held the same consistency of blood. Mathias clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his stare turned down the swirling mouthful of liquor remaining in the glass.

"Once I met a group of Middle Eastern men, I suspected they were, I don't know, Muslims as you do. It was work related however...and I was surprised that men such as them would be working in the same area I was but I wouldn't reduce them down to stereotypes." The Dane finished off his glass and lay back, hands folded across his belly. Lars looked at him from the corner of his eyes, interested in the silence breaker. "Once we finished what we were there to do I asked them out of curiosity, well one of them in particular he looked like...he'd seen a lot you know? He looked like he'd been around long before everybody else despite how young he was he just had these deep eyes. Anyway. I asked 'I thought people of faith weren't supposed to gamble?' and he looked so amused 'I'm hardly a religious man despite how I may seem. Are you Mr Køhler?' He said and I shook my head. 'Do I look religious?' But this man, Gupta, I think his name was, stared me down for so fucking long and it felt like he knew me, like he was just in my soul or whatever and then laughed, naturally I asked why he asked and he smiled and said 'Of course you're not, you're made of the deadly sins. If God were real he wouldn't allow you to consider faith in fear of you poisoning the pure.''

He fell quiet again and closed his eyes, laughing quietly to himself. "He was the first person I'd ever met who called me out on that." Lars turned his head just as the other rolled onto his side, his cheek propped up in his hand. "Did you know the inheritance I'd already gotten would be enough for me to retire young? I don't need my job."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because they need me." The Dane stood up, stretching his arms to the ceiling and leaning back until something clicked before he shook out his body and reached behind him for his coat. "I've got another flight out to Italy for a conference I'll be back in a week, 2 max. Enjoy the rest of the wine for me would you?"

Lars nodded and the other smiled in thanks before slipping out the door, case in hand. And sitting on the edge of the balcony even floor upon floor up in the sky he could hear the purring and the roaring of Mathias' motorbike that grew distant before the night plunged into quiet again. He made a note to himself to write down what the other told him while it was still fresh in his mind.

He watched the sky for a moment longer until clouds choked out the sun and darkness crept up along side them. He moved back into the quiet house, breathed in deep, the lounge still smelling of the Dane's cologne and the faint smell of smoke, and a smile he only smiled when he was alone stretched at his cheeks. Going to his room, bare feet against the wooden floors he stopped short before collapsing on the bedding.

On his bed, the sheets messy from the nights before where he was too lazy to actually clean it up lay the book of fairy tales Mathias seemed to adore (worship). The Dutchman smiled to himself, fingers skimming the hard leather covering and the gold lettering. It looked old and it looked loved, the pages smelt like coffee where there were stains and tape was used to keep pages together that were coming loose from the binding. Making a nest of his bedsheets he curled his legs under himself and spent the night reading fairy tales that had been read over and over and over again.

One of the stories held a simple post it where the others had highlighter and smudges of pen on lines, quotes and paragraphs. Frowning at the language he couldn't understand, Danish written in scrawled in messy script he chose to paused for a moment, make himself a coffee and drag his beat up laptop onto the bed with him to search for a decent translator.

The little mermaid was a love letter from Hans to Edvard...huh.

Frowning Lars tried to stop himself from looking into it further, curiosity getting the best of him he found himself scanning through the webpage after webpage. Sitting back with his eyebrows raised he gave himself a few minutes to digest the new information before picking up the book again and choosing to read the tale, when he lifted the note carefully so not to disturb it's placement written on the back of it in at least a language he could read, he tried to stop himself from laughing.

Yeah I knew you would look into that. To be honest you seem to look into everything you're not very good with wiping your net history entirely [Though I don't remember when i put the 'post it note' there, thought it'd be cute to leave it.]
It's one of my favourite stories so if you trash talk it i swear to god I will mutilate your nut sack.

"You dick." He laughed to himself, lips still turned up in a rare smile he read on.

It felt as if he'd just learnt something personal about the Dane.
The air headed Dane who smelt like the sea and acted as wild as the waves had a love for a story that centred around it.
And despite the new knowledge it was nothing compared to what he didn't know.
It scared Lars.
It scared him so fucking much and he didn't know why.

xxx

A couple of weeks later, with no word of the Dane coming back, he'd broken into the liquor cabinet and was browsing through the collection of CD's that was wedged between the 'C' and 'D' authors (wow Mathias must have felt like a fucking genius) Lars pulled out something from the F's and slipped it in the stereo careless of what it might have been. The thrumming of a lush beat filled the penthouse and Lars couldn't even hear his own laughter over the music as it grew louder. Holding a bottle of Jaeger to his lips he moved to the sound of the music, beatlessly and lacking much flow he simply did what his limbs wanted in between long drags at the bottle of alcohol and eventually the joint that ended up between his fingers.

Alice would be so proud of him right now.

He closed his eyes and smiled to himself, acting as if the music were controlling him, telling him how to move, when to drink, when to breath, what to think.

When his eyelids slithered back for him to relight the end of his joint he caught sight of his phone vibrating across the coffee table and looking down at his joint with small frown he snuffed it back out, shoved it in his pockets and moved back inside to pick it up, during down the music considerably he picked up and dropped against the couch worming his way around until his feet were in the air and his head balanced against the ground. "Ja?"

"You bloody asshole stop toking up and open the fucking door."

"Yes...uh...Kirkland." Mouthing fuck to himself he hung up and dumped the phone back on the table before heaving himself up, staggering over the blood flowing back in the right direction and went to meet the short Brit he'd had the absolute pleasure of being sort-of-not-really friends with for the past few years of his unfortunately life, Arthur fucking Kirkland with a scowl that could make children shit themselves and a glare that was accompanied by his eyebrows in all their bushy glory. Staring down blankly at the Englishman he gestured for him to go inside.

"Gee I couldn't tell what gave away I was right, was it the fact your eyes are redder than a baboons arse and glassy enough I could see my own reflection or was it the fact you left your fucking bong on the table." The shorter male rolled his eyes. "Very classy Lars, I see you've been cracking into the alcohol as well. Brilliant. I hope you're going to share that or so help me,"

"You're in a lovely mood this evening aren't you?"

Now when he said he didn't have friends he didn't really think of mentioning the kinda of but yeah okay definitely really important international trader he'd grown up with and spent most of his childhood either a) getting into scraps with this little Spanish kid who kept hitting on his sister b) Looking after rabbits (shut it) or c) spending his days throwing rocks at the back of Arthur Kirkland's head until he paid attention enough for them to swap supplies and become friends.

And as that got older it turned into lets-get-wasted-and-give-each-other-head
Well that was until the Frenchmen who lived next door to Arthur when he was younger ended up in the same college as him and the American transfer student fell head over heels and the two ended up playing tug of war with him. That left Lars to his one night stands and his best friends lefty and righty and the one brief relationship with the American boy's brother that lasted a few months but ended at the drop of a hat.

He wasn't bitter about it surprisingly enough.

"I'm absolutely fantastic my little Dutch friend. I just thought we needed a little catch up." The blonde looked around approvingly before making himself at home on one of the couches. "Did you get a pay rise or something? Jesus Christ this place doesn't suit you at all, it's too..." He waved his hands around as he tried to find a word. "Fancy. Extravagant. Classy."

"I'm not lit... how did you find out where I was staying?" Lars scratched the back of his head awkwardly before moving to take the seat across from him.

"Bumped into Alice." Thick eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Staying?"

"I don't recall saying it was my place."

"Ah so who are you with? Got a partner you haven't told me about?"

"Nee. Long story actually."

And so after sharing the half empty bottle of Jaeger with the Brit they mulled over what they'd missed out on, it turns out the American student went back to New York and left Arthur to spend the rest of his time travelling with Francis when they weren't working. Arthur was in love with the fine arts, rich history, culture, music and wine despite his messy appearance and the crude way at which he spoke and he talked with a sparkle in his eyes of his travels that dimmed down as soon as they moved onto the topic of work to which by the time it happened his eyes were shooting around the room and his words coming slowly from the alcohol. Lars briefly thought him and Mathias would make great friends.

"We had a few people...kill themselves in the past few months...under the pressure..." He slurred, lips pulled down and eyes travelling down with the curve of his mouth. "The other company they...they've been doing insanely well we can't compete with that...world class traders they are but...I can't help but think they have somebody on the inside."

"Huh?"

"I mean none of them were particularly looking strung out. In fact they were doing bloody good." He ran a hand through his hair, sinking back in his chair he sighed and stared down at Lars from the length of his nose. "But what do I know eh? I never really talked to them."

"You never really talk to anybody."

"Good thing that." The Englishman sighed as he tipped his head back and stretched his legs out in front of him. "So Mathias. I have a feeling I've 'eard that name before..."

"Mathias Køhler?"

He stood up suddenly, already dark green eyes turning impossibly darker and any trace of humour drained from his face as if somebody had pulled a plug. Cracking his neck on his shoulders and slipping his feet back into his shoes. "Well I may as well be off, it was good to see you again."

What the fuck is that all about. "Uh...yeah. Is it safe for you to drive..."

"Me? Drive at night? Don't be ridiculous I'll call a cab." The Brit, glassy eyed and smiling a little too forcefully than usual put his hand on Lars' shoulder. "Mate from what you've told me you know sweet fuck all about this Mathias guy, well personal anyway...you already saw 'im naked, get to know 'im and tell me if you end up ripping each other's clothes off or something."

"Oooooooookay time for you to go home!" Nervous laughter erupted from the Dutchman and he pushed the small blonde out the door. "Wow yeah amazing to see you too don't get hit by a truck!"

And slamming the door he sunk to the ground with his head in between his legs and groaned. Exhausted physically and mentally he fell asleep against the door and was thankful for the comfort of the dreaming world.

xxx

He sat slumped against the dining table in his sister's home, lazily picking his fork through his desert as he tried to ignore the tendrils of anxiety in his stomach. His flatmate hadn't been home in over a month and he missed the unabashed laughter and the impromptu reasons to celebrate with a bottle of wine, he was undoubtedly working his ass off from how much word he hadn't received but still, it made him wriggle uncomfortably and set him on edge for days to the point that when he wasn't even returning his calls let alone answering them Alice had taken it upon to pull him out of the house and into her own. She was situated across from him, crimson lips turned down in a frown that he could see from the corner of his eyes and sighing heavily he sat up and continued on with his meal.

"You look like shit. What's wrong?" She finally said and he winced at her tone. Motherly and sharp, the green of her eyes burning into him. There was an urgency to the way she spoke, looking at her phone every few minutes as if she were waiting for somebody. Or checking the time. "I don't have all night to try and pry it out of you."

"Mathias hasn't been back in a while."

"Oh?"

"Hm."

"Is that all?"

"Just worried."

"Lying has never been your strong point."

"Subtly has never been yours."

She huffed and stood, taking both their plates with her. Staying in front of him she leaned down until they were eye level and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"You're going to tell me some day if you like it or not."

"I'm going to go before you castrate me."

"Good decision."

He'd slipped out when she turned her back to go to the kitchen.

xxx

Mathias came home 3 days later with deep red lipstick branding his neck and the corner of his mouth and reeking of woman's perfume that was all too familiar to Lars for him to simply ignore. Mathias gave the other a confused look before ditching his coat and shoes at the door he turned to walk past the stunned and furious Dutchman who noted how his suit was rumpled, shirt hanging over the band of his trousers and buttons in the wrong holes. Unsure of why he acted the way he did, all he felt was a flare of an unexpected emotion roaring through his body that had him grabbing his counterpart's arm and yanking him close, with mouth at his ear he scowled and growled. The nauseating wave of possessive behaviour took it's claim on him, he was aware he had no right but still...It didn't stop him.

"I can smell her on you."

He caught a glimpse of smile 12 - amused and snarky - gracing his lips as he ripped his arm out of Lars' grip and went straight to his room. That was not the smile he had been anticipating for weeks to see again.

"Alice is her own woman, she can do what she likes. Don't worry." He stopped, back still turned and he could imagine the smirk that would no doubt be leaving the Dane's teeth bare and his eyes glinting with mirth. "I'll sleep with somebody different next time so I don't step into awkward grounds with you yeah?" He called over his shoulder, and indeed that unfair grin was there, turned up at one side, eyes lidded a single eyebrow arched up. "Or is it that you're jealous, Peeters?"

He stared down at his hands in shock. Acting out of hand wasn't a regular occurrence.

And it was over Mathias of all people.

He would deny the chantings at the back of his head that tried to tell him why, denied them of all their taunting and pushed them as far back as he could along with the memories of his parents and the guilty pleasures he'd taken himself to sleep with, with the thoughts of the very man who just had him break his barrier of control and composure. Straightening himself up he glared down the hall at the blonde and opted for the safer option as his pride got the best of him.

"Nee. Don't touch her again." Out of curiosity to the slight drop in Mathias' shoulders he tipped his head to the side. "Why do you want me to be?"

"Of course not. What would I get out of you being jealous?" He laughed and closed his bedroom door as he entered his room.

Yeah.
Yeah he was.

xxx

So there he was sweating profusely as he looked at the almost but not quite over flowing rubbish bin and held a cartoon of milk in one hand. So being as clever and careful as he was he balanced it on top of an empty sandwich box and backed up slowly making sure it wouldn't fall off.

And happened to walked straight into the Dane who was staring down at his semi crouching form with an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. "Take it out."

"Nee."

"I'll screw your sister on your bed if you d-"

"Did I just hear the door?" Lars interjected quickly and straightening up from his position he sprinted to answer whoever was buzzing the bell and left the Dane cursing and laughing behind him.

To be honest he hadn't been more terrified in his life when he came face to face with a blonde who was taller than him, but not by much, and had a glare behind his thin framed glasses that would probably have people lose control of their bowels on the spot. Even the sharply cut suit nearly had Lars crossing his legs in hope he wouldn't end up literally losing his shit. And for once in his life he was able to understand why people were so hesitant to approach him
When you look almost blank faced but ready to kill somebody it's intimidating as fuck apparently. And to be honest whoever this guy was wouldn't have made him feel so uneasy but...

It's just that he was built like the fucking Hulk.

And when he opened his mouth to speak it just went straight over the Dutchman's head, whatever he was saying was not a language that translated well in his head and trying to resist the urge to let his mouth hang open dumbly he raised an eyebrow. The very Scandinavian looking and sounding male sighed and started trying to mimic what he was trying to say with his hands. When he hand his hands up to about his eyebrows, the same height of the Dutchman, Lars mouthed 'oh' and walked back inside, a finger held up to request a moment.

"Okay so I don't know if you know anybody who's about 6 foot, could kill a whole maybe... but there's one out there and he's definitely not saying anything in any language I understand but I'm guessing he's for you."

Mathias's foot was stuck in the bin trying to squash down the rubbish that Lars refused to put out and he frowned. "Oh that's Berwald. He can speak German surprisingly enough, even if it is a little unintelligible. Let him in."

And so he did. Glowering a little at the taller male he gestured for him to come in, growling under his breath as he moved past him with the smell of wood and mint following along behind him. As soon as he'd pointed in the direction where the Dane was and with German coming out as a growl on his tongue to tell the other what he was doing he slipped out behind him after grabbing his coat.

He was out for nearly half the day before he came back home tried and drained from marking paper after paper in a cafe that kicked him out as soon as he stopped buying mug after mug of coffee and hung his jacket on the hooks beside the door before going into the kitchen, the soft sound of music an indication the other was around. Lars walked around trying to find the Dane but however was stopped short when he came across the sight of said Dane straddling the blonde male who made his appearance earlier in the day and they were whispering backwards and forwards between each other.

Naked.

It should have come as a surprise to find out that Mathias seemed to be pretty fluid with his sexuality but it was however not, and the Dutchman stood frozen when Mathias's head tipped back in a silent moan and the other man's hand roamed over his chest. His hands lingering at the Dane's necks for a moment as if contemplating to squeeze down before curling at the back of his neck and forcing his head to tip down to crush their lips together. Just as Berwald's teeth began to tug on Mathias' bottom lip, the Dane's eyes flashed open and he looked straight at Lars. There wasn't any emotion there. No apology. No lust. The man's name was on Mathias's tongue as he bounced on his lap and just before it was to be audible Lars moved as quickly and as silently as he could to his bedroom to sit on the edge of his mattress with his head in his hands and his door shut to block out any noise yet still he could hear his flatmate's moans in his ears.

He really did not need this.

He sure as fuck did not need this right now.

Lars heard mumbling from the other side of the door and a thump of somebody being slammed into a wall, a grunt from a voice deeper than Mathias's accompanied a light laugh and he heard them migrate from their spot to what he imagined to be the end of the hall if the slamming door was anything. Rolling over and hiding his face under his pillow he muttered to himself and tried to forcefully induce a coma.

He managed to get a couple of hours sleep until the mumbling from the other two grew too loud as they made their way back down the hall. Mathias no doubt showing this 'Berwald' out (fingers crossed) and rolling onto his back, pillow thrown to the side Lars gave up on all hope of sleep and stared at the ceiling until the front door was closed again and soft padding of feet directed right back to the bedroom.

At least Mathias kept to his promise of keeping out of his sister's pants.