ahhhh thank you guys so much for everything the comments and the favourites really are making my day UwU
I was a little unsure of what to do for this chapter but I hope it's alright! I tend to have this habit of planning separate chapters that are like ages apart and oh gosh it ends pretty badly because how to link them all together? We just don't know (pain)
anyway like i said I hope this is alright feel free to right an opinion ect ect and I'll definitely respond a.s.a.p haha
(also wow i realised how sappy this gets at times I'm super sorry about that
drama should ensue at some point but i have no idea how to link it in blah im so bad at this)

Modern Leper - Frightened Rabbit

It was strange to be kissed by somebody with a split lip, the texture broke the smooth press of lips with something scratchier. Now Lars wasn't complaining despite how fleeting it was, a quick, light press of lips that had him wanting to lean forward and take it deeper. But there was something sweet in it, the way the other's hand curled around his jaw and held him in place as he let the contact linger for once second, two, three, four and yet it felt like infinity was between them as cliché as it sounded. When Mathias sat back smiling for a few moments as if he'd accomplished something, did he already crave the now absent lips all over again, it was something greedy in his gut and a chant in his head.

Rather than listen to the insistent thoughts he stared across at the other in bewilderment who went back to his book like it was nobody's business.

"I want to go swimming." Lars said after a while.

"Save it for night, everything's better then don't you think?" Mathias said with a smile. "I'm sure you know some places we can break into. I think the ocean might be too restless for us to take a dip then."

Against his morals he smiled back and nodded. "For night it is then."

xxx

"No you idiot don't fucking buy that it's too expensive." Lars growled under his breath, pulling the paperback from the Dane's hands and putting it back where it was.

"Are you seriously living up to the stereotype."

"Shut up. If you had to be tight on your money your whole life you'd understand, anyway that isn't really the original copy." He rolled his eyes and dragged the Dane away from the stand. "You could get the exact same thing for cheaper elsewhere."

"This is the most amusing thing. So what, is your chequebook the biggest influence in your life or?"

"I could say the same for you."

"No, no, no the difference between me and you my frowny faced friend is that I don't care where my money ends up or how I spend it because I have enough of it to simply blow it. Capisce?" He smiled and tucked his hands in the sleeves of his jersey. "Even if I wasn't rolling in it I'd still be alright with it I mean it's just paper. It runs our lives stupidly but we're just sacks of meat walking around on a giant floating rock, our entire lives run by paper and to be honest I don't see the point in giving a shit about it."

"That entire sentence is making me break out into cold sweats hold on I need a moment to recompose myself."

"You shit." Mathias hit him playfully on the arm before going back to what he was doing and paid upfront for the book in cash before tucking it into their shared backpack for the day and continuing on. Lars was finding it hard to believe that the other didn't own clothes that made his heart clench at the state of his bank account but then he remembered. "You don't need to count how much money you've got when there's better things to do to spend your time, it's all just paper and numbers."

Millionaire.

Groaning inwardly he followed after the growingly hyperactive Dane who bounced from shop to shop thinking about what to get as souvenirs and Lars had nothing else to do but tag along behind him. It was nice to see him smiling cheerfully like that and conversing with people as if he'd known them his entire life and while they appeared taken aback he was a little surprised by how many cashiers and shop owners appreciated his optimistic chatter. Apart from the one person who stared him down and asked him to be quiet. At least there were some people with some kind of sense around here and Mathias took it easily just nodded shut up and paid up before slipping out and as soon as they were a few blocks away did he start bitching.

Lars wasn't really thinking much about the words coming out of the other's mouth, more he was thinking about the lips that formed the words that had been on his only a few hours earlier. He was still questioning what it meant, if it was returned affection or what.

It better not just be pity.

After they entered another book store did he start paying attention to what Mathias was actually saying rather than nodding, slipping in the odd 'oh yeah' 'cool' 'you're talking too much shut up'

"I love libraries and I've had the pleasure of going around to see the best of them, the last book store was incredible, and a few others hell one even had a slide in it. I think I need to show you some of the photos I got you'd love them" Mathias laughed and continued browsing through the dustier looking novels. "Somebody once said 'a library is the hospital for the mind' and I couldn't think of a more true statement."

"You really like metaphors."

"If you read as much as I have you'd learn to appreciate literature." The Dane leaned up against Lars' shoulder. "However, you spent most of your time studying to work didn't ya? No time to read or have fun what a shame."

"Well you're making up for my lost time then."

"I can't make up for what 25 years of lost time."

"How-"

"Yeah I know." Mathias smiled brilliantly. "Happy Birthday Lars."

They ended up leaving earlier than what Mathias had said they should, the sun was only just starting to set and stretched their shadows across the concrete. Mathias chattered about odds and ends, asking about Lars' past birthday's to which he just shrugged and said most of them were spent with his sister or Arthur or with Matthew that one time but other than that he didn't really do anything special. An expression crossed the Dane's face that he couldn't quite but his finger on but he didn't ask, anyway by the time they'd approached the wired fence to the swimming pool, long closed and trying to swallow back his anxiety he climbed over, pulling the blonde up with him as he went. Their feet hit the ground hard, ground shock exploding painfully in the Dutchman's feet and made him bite into his hand to smother his whine.

Mathias looked entirely unscathed and was already stripping out of his clothes to bare his shorts and was already in the water before Lars even had his shirt over his head. For somebody so lanky the Dane packed on muscle nicely, his arms definitely enough and strength was shown in his legs and chest. Shaking his head the Dutchman slipped in after him, completely submerging himself in the water until it was above his head and he'd sunk to the bottom.

Lars looked up at the water until it stilled above him, chlorine burning his eyes but not enough for too much discomfort. He watched the sky through the translucent surface, smiling up dimming sky and the stars that were just straining to be visible through the rays of light coming from the sun, stars he was lucky enough to even see as they were long burnt out and non-existent by the time their own light had reflected back to Earth. The sun warmed the pool barely and leaves for the coming Autumn dusted the surface like tiny ships. He was fine down there for the few seconds he was able to sit on the bottom of the pool and just look up until his lungs began to panic. That was until just as he was about to push up to the surface the water broke and Mathias cut through the water like it was nothing and rested his hands on either side of his face, smile brilliant until their lips were pushed together he was mesmerised by how the water shifted the locks of the Dane's hair above his head like a halo. He looked almost like a character out of his favourite fairytale.

He was left at the bottom of the pool alone again, suddenly and painfully remembering people had to breath and moved as quickly as he could to propel himself back to the surface and suck in as much air as he could, lungs desperately taking in fresh air as soon as his head broke through the stillness and he pulled himself back onto the edge of the pool, legs half submerged under the water. Quietly he watched as the blonde swam lengths of the pool, muscles pulling taut with every movement in such a delicious way that should only be in films or in dreams or simply be something illegal.

He thought by himself under the gentle sounds of moving water and the warmth of the afternoon breeze, letting himself be lost to the world of his own thoughts with the sounds around him as his guide. He was surprised to say the least that he had been so obvious when he thought he hid it well enough, he was even more surprised that somebody who could take whatever and whoever he wanted would be happy enough to be affectionate with him. The brief kisses all remained tingling on his lips as his personal brand of mental case glided through the water as if he were the one to control it's movements. Charming and an undeniable presence when around others but around Lars he was just...well for one he seemed a little awkward at times and the rest of the time he was just digging into Lars' soul with his words and thoughts but other than that he was unbelievably awkward or too forward and would apologise for it later.

Lars was starting to find himself in the centre of the web of thought that love...was really the base of most feelings. You love to hate, anger is created off an anger that is fuelled by passion, passion is a form of love and even while you're in love you can still experience so many more feelings on top of it. Because they're all contained within that controlling emotion. It birthed a hatred in himself to think that the centre of his happiness had begun to be a person who slipped through his fingers like dust when he so wished, that he was kind of addicted and more than a little dependant on him. Then he began to rely on trust on top of that, trust came in and became important to trust that he wouldn't just leave and never came back. He trusted enough that there would be many days that his laugh would be enough to make Lars himself happy again and that all he would need is that warmth, that knowledge that he was actually there and not a figment of his imagination to be at ease. An assurance even. He began to trust him from the first conversation in his room, trusted he'd be there every single day and despite wherever Mathias' jobs would take him he would be back. But the days between Lars would start to forget if it were real, if that smile, those eyes, those arms and that voice all belonged to an actual person.

And he had tried the months in between, drunk nights alone at a bar where he'd end up at another's house with his lips at theirs and his hands on their body trying not to pretend that he wasn't pretending. That stupid, idiotic, intelligent, scarily beautiful blonde was irreplaceable. And that was before they'd so much as shared a kiss where one of them, or both for that matter, was not intoxicated by something. The one night stands in stranger's beds weren't enough, the casual pickings from the massive parties would not sate his wants and the land of imagination and dreams was the worst type of torment. Because the fantasies didn't feature the Dane's nervous habit of chewing on his nails, or his fingers, nor did it have the shaking that would coarse through his body when he was over excited or the wheeze in his breath when he was scared.

It was worrying how many times Mathias had starting wheezing the past few months, as his attacks of anxiety hit him as did violent shudders and a terrible sound when he tried to breath through it. Eventually he'd just give up on fresh air and shakily light himself a cigarette to try and calm himself down. But Lars couldn't help but keep a watchful eye over him every time that slim ledge of stability that Mathias seemed to be perched on fell beneath his feet. Though he understood.
He'd had his own fair share of panic attacks the past few months and even if the Dane had been feeling particularly shitty about life and everything in it, even if he'd be spewing out vile curses and still use his extensive knowledge of language to make it sound like poetry, he'd stop immediately and take to looking after the Dutchman as he'd attempt to pull out his own hair and pant excessively until he grew light headed.

They were both a pair of screw ups in their own little world, one run by too many fears and the other run by mental illness that made him act fearless up until his moments of weakness when suddenly everything happened too much, there was too much of everything and it would hit him hard.

Mathias surfaced from the water, paddling forward until his chin was resting on his forearms on the edge of the pool beside Lars. "Was it what you wanted."

"You're really something Mathias."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Something but not much. Anyway did you like your birthday."

"It's lacking cake."

"Patience is a virtue."

xxx

On his 16th he finally thought 'fuck it' and did something on impulse rather than waiting it out. When the teacher's back was turned he rose from his seat and dropped into an empty seat beside the boy who sat at the back of the classroom. He didn't say anything just nodded at the hooded male and continued on with the work that had been assigned to them, he'd been look over his shoulder every so often to see if he could catch a glimpse of the other's face and hadn't had much success but the entire time during the class he had been drawing up and down his arms with his headphones in and his attention wasn't given to the teacher at all. But when Lars looked off to the side, now a lot closer than he had been all of the work had been answered and done in a language he couldn't read but guessed for a new student it was alright. His knuckles were beaten up like he'd been punching things out of fits of anger, nails bitten down and hands generally uncared for.

He wrote on the back of a worksheet, when did you start I haven't seen you here before? Writing linked in Dutch and slipped the paper across, guessing the other could read it at least.

He wasn't expecting it to be thrown back with sharp, sloping writing right underneath his in broken Dutch that he pieced together the best he could. I don't go here.
What?

I'm here for fun, did you hear an extra name be called out?

The boy's eyes were hidden by his hood but he could see the upturn of thin lips that shaped his murmur in heavily accented English. "Don't tell. This is getting interesting."

"Are you going to be here tomorrow?"

"Probably not." He continued to draw on the top of his palm, tracing the lines and ridges of his bones. "So what's your name."

"Lars. You?"

He shook his head and fell back into saying nothing.
The next day no matter how much Lars looked over to the corner the nameless boy in the dark hood never came back.
He sat in that seat for the rest of the year.

xxx

His phone buzzed on their way back to the hotel and he frowned just a little as the I.D brought up the name of his favourite Englishman.

"Hel-"

"YOU TWO ARE FUCKING TOGETHER WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?"

"What are you-"

"HAVE YOU SEEN THE BLOODY PAPERS. HAVE. YOU. SEEN. THEM. THERE ARE PICTURES OF YOU ALL OVER FUCKING HOLLAND WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?"

"I haven't seen shi-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU I'M GOING TO-"

"WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP KIRKLAND I'M TRYING TO SPEAK." He tried not to laugh as he yelled down the line at the Dane's surprised expression. When he looked up to smile at Mathias he found that the other had turned his face away and was staring down at the ground with a scowl. His smile slid off his face and the neutral expression he wore as default slipped back on. "I'll talk to you when we get back to Frankfurt alright go take a pill."

"OH WHAT I HOPE YOU'RE GOI-"

He hung up and slumped against the brick walls beside the Dane immediately Mathias reverted to the version of him that spoke long words about topics that shouldn't be questioned.

He was anticipating the drawn out talks about life and the meaning of things that perhaps shouldn't have meanings behind them like a child would their birthday, it was a gift to be able to see Mathias lose himself to topics he'd thought about and written about on post it notes that he had stuck up around his room. How he wouldn't smile as if he were happy but more like he was appreciative of how Lars was willing to listen to his thoughts and feelings and how the Dutchman was even more willing to share his own. He wanted to write novels about what the other would say and sure enough what he would speak about would be enough to fill several notebooks.

He learnt that the day was too exhausting and irritating for Mathias' liking. How he took comfort in the way night filled his senses and he could breathe it in, hear it's silence and see the endless dark that would always be there, it would always come and it would never leave until the sun chose to chase it away. How he found the mystery in the darkest shadows that would pass through the void of light more intoxicating than bottles of liquor and the way things appeared more sinister in the night. Lars would agree, the sunshine and blue skies and warm air and fresh morning breeze would bring along the false hope of a day free of the crushing weight to look and act and speak in a way presentable to those who could see in the light where in the looming immensity of space they could see nothing.

Mathias would smile a little wider when he joined in, his eyes would sparkle a little brighter and he would continue to talk about things people would accuse him of being a mad man for thinking and feeling. That he'd feel strangely happy and more alive, younger even as the shadows lengthened. How it felt as if the softness of the waxing and waning dark would feel like a gift from the heavens and would grant him a strength he could only dream of having under the weary drag of day.

Lars couldn't question how the conversations started, who started them or why but he was content being able to free this side of the Dane even under the safety of the moon they talked to enthusiastically about. The city remained swamped in the great wall of night that covered all living and stationary things in a way sunlight could not. A silent embrace of blissful comfort in the form of the unknown and unruly.

And this conversation engaged the Dutchman more perhaps because the man beside from him so perfectly fit the description they applied to the hours of a day where colour was destroyed in a simple caress. He fitted the scenery around them that was darkening as night rapidly dawned upon them.

"I need to make you dinner." Mathias said after a long silence.

"Do you know Arthur?"

"You sure like changing the subject a lot." The other's eyes pinched and he shrugged, stuffing his hands into the safety of his jean's pockets and the tender air that had been around him dissipated. "I know of an Arthur. You called him by his last name on the phone I take it."

"Yeah?"

"Then I know of that particular Arthur." Mathias pushed off the wall and continued walking, Lars had to run to catch up to him. "We sort of work in the same field but on opposite sides. Anyway what was it that had him screaming down the line?"

"I have a feeling people noticed you were out and about. With me."

"Ah the flies have already started swarming. Brilliant." He chuckled. "Well now I don't see why that would have him fired up."

"He thinks we're together."

"Brilliant." He repeated.

"What are we?"

Mathias' mouth froze on what he was about to say, brows pulled together and he shook his head. "Friends?"

"Friends."

"Or something."

"That sounds more fitting."

xxx

As soon as Mathias was in the hotel he made a beeline straight for the kitchen for half a glass of whiskey. While he was leant up against the counter, hips pressed up against the marble he took long sips from the glass, trying not to wince at the overbearing and strong taste that filled his gulley and burnt his throat. Lars ran his tongue over his teeth, trying not to be too obvious in his appreciation for the skin tight jeans or the loose white shirt that didn't want to stay straight in it's position to bear black markings on the other's back. He walked over, arms slowly looping around the Dane's waist and pulled him close. Suspecting of the lack of resistance he rested his chin over the blonde's shoulder as he had done to Lars months ago and hesitantly pressed his lips to the shell of his ear. Restraint, dignity and logic no longer existing as he heavily breathed into the other's neck. And for the third time in his life after slipping the $170 down on the living room table did he think 'fuck it'.

"You'll be strong. You're not alone in this any more Mathias. Stop looking so depressed it doesn't fit you." He waited until the other had taken another shaky mouthful of whiskey before turning him around and tipping his chin up to seal his lips over his to pull it from Mathias' mouth and into his own. He felt the silent laughter in the form a sigh as the Dane's eyes crinkled at the corners and their tongues began to play once he'd swallowed it down. He started to wonder if this is what mental illness tasted like. Sweet, bitter, addictive.

Mathias attempted to push the glass behind him before he wove his fingers through his hair and pressed harder, dragging him down while he leant back to rest his full weight against the bench. The Dutchman took a firm hold on the backs of his upper legs and pulled him onto the counter, fingers running up the material of the stiff denim until he had both hands full of Mathias' buttocks and yanked him closer. An undignified whine left him and turned into an airy chuckle on his tongue when his own brushed along the roof of the Dane's mouth and sucked at his own muscle. Lars prayed this was enough to take the blonde away from the dark place that started to pull him into his clutches when thin fingers left their hold on his hair to cling on for dear life on the back of his neck. The deepness of it settled into a simple massage of lips and eventually left Lars sucking Mathias' bottom lip, his tongue running along the swelling skin until they broke apart.

"You're an idiot for doing that Lars." There was no regret in the statement, a sadness that the Dutchman couldn't explain perhaps. "I'm not going to be able to quit you after this."

"Who said I was asking you to."

"You're still fucking stupid."

"There's nothing wrong about kissing your something."

Mathias slid down from his position on the bench and batted his hand at the Dutchman's arm until he moved. "I need to make us something to eat."

"You said that just before."

"Yeah and I'm repeating it go set up somewhere for us to actually enjoy the no doubt amazing meal I'm about to make."

"Ego's getting a bit high there. Did you even buy food?"

"Brought stuff with me. Anyway, move it and be amazed."

His smile did things to Lars' chest that would be described in a teenaged girl's romance novel and with a roll of his eyes he went off to do as the other asked. Dumping pillows on the ground beside the coffee table he opted for a spot beside an ancient looking fire place and after much internal debate took to sitting cross legged as he tried to bring a fire to life with the left over logs of half burnt wood.

And while he attempted to bring the embers to catch alight he tried not to think about the man in the next room who was singing to himself as he worked over the creak of the oven door and the smell of marinaded meat wafted through the crack of the kitchen door along with the breeze that blew the hotel curtains towards Lars and ruined his constant attempts at both the fire and pushing out the every needy presence of the Dane from his head. He figured he was too deep in this to really stop, to stop trying to really understand and decipher if the other male was a figment of his imagination half the time. He had this strange way of making Lars feel unproductive, always simply there and it was nagging and hard to ignore. He wondered when the bitterness began to grow in his fingertips when he'd reach out towards Mathias even when he was miles away in another country and make his heart grow heavy with the knowledge the blonde was much too far away to reach when all he wanted was a reminder of his voice. He wondered when he began to toss and turn in his sleep even when he knew Mathias was sleeping soundly and safely in the room down the hall in the apartment, yet somehow something always seemed off, like he could just vanish or wake up dead and Lars would be left practically alone again. And he wished there would be something that would just tell him why he was so afraid of losing him even though he wasn't his despite the increased and exhilarated affections shared between the two of them.

And he asked the silence in his thoughts why he still felt alone when arms draped around this neck and a chin propped itself up on the top of his head and moved with every word that left Mathias' mouth. The other had this way of using words as well, when he went into detail about how much he loved Lars' rare smiles his chest clenched, how he loved the positively pure green of his eyes his breath caught in his throat, and how he loved the way he was so sincere and so sombre about the thoughts that ran through his head, how his extensive knowledge in psychology allowed him to connect to Mathias in a way that nobody really had, how he loved his lips, he loved his voice, he loved the way he always looked as if he were bored but his eyes would give away everything, those words nearly drove Lars to the very brink of extreme behaviour on his behalf, nearly on the verge of tears and nearly on the verge of screaming in frustration about how easily Mathias could say all of that but it still lacked that single ingredient. The declaration of independence from his own emotions and the complete and utter surrender to that of the root of all emotion.

He spoke of how he loved things about Lars.

But he would not utter the sentence to seal it.

Instead he hugged a little tighter and backed off to the kitchen, taking his words, thoughts and the over powering and truthfully mouth watering scent of cologne with him. He left Lars feeling as if he'd been broken down and worn down by the mix of syllables and sounds that created such beautiful and heart breaking words.