interlude: moments before dawn

Tino

four years ago

Mister Oxenstierna, for all extents and purposes, appeared to have the ideal life. Twenty years old and a prominent figure in his family's furnishing empire, the man appeared eternally composed and sure of things. His lack of expressions and grim appearance seemed threatening, but surely he had to have a good heart hidden deep within him.

At least, that's what Tino thought. The sloppily dressed man before him with the hidden panic in his eyes and wailing baby in his arms begged to differ.

"Please. Just need you to watch him for a few hours." Tino looked from his employer to the baby, swallowing heavily. He was an eighteen year old in his first desk job, still living with his mother and a man who cried at old episodes of The Moomins. He wasn't prepared to suddenly look after a baby in a moment's notice. The Swede's voice broke him out of his inner turmoil, and Tino hesitantly looked back up at him. "Wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. Ah've got a meeting, and his sitter cancelled last minute. Can't find any'ne else. It's only f'r a few hours, and ah'll pay you for it."

"You don't need to pay me for it," Tino said slowly, eyes now focused on the baby Mister Oxenstierna was frantically rocking. The little blond-haired boy would have looked sweet, if he hadn't have been crying so fitfully. Feeling sympathy for both the boy and his apparent guardian, Tino held his arms out with some reluctance. "I'll take him. What's his name?"

With a look of obvious relief that was quickly quashed, Mister Oxenstierna carefully passed the child to him. "Pet'r. He's my son; he's eight months. Been colicky the past few days, but he's getting better. Ah've got all his things here." He set the baby carrier filled with supplies on Tino's desk, standing back and running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Tino. I owe yeh a favour." He was distracted by Tino holding Peter in front of him, now beaming at the child.

"Hey, what are all these tears about? I'm not scary, am I?" Peter blinked at Tino in open curiosity and the Finnish man smiled encouragingly at him. He'd no idea Mister Oxenstierna was in a relationship, let alone had children. It must have been a high school relationship, though there was an absence of any wedding ring on his finger. "My name's Tino, and believe me, I didn't expect to look after a baby when I first woke up this morning. It would really help if you behaved for me; I don't think your father is going to let me off all of my work." He looked up at Berwald, smiling tentatively. "You can leave them with me. He'll be fine, Mister Oxenstierna."

"Ah'll be back in a few hours. Thanks, Tino." With a last relieved look and stroke of Peter's head the Swede hurried out, and Tino was left holding the baby. Literally. He sighed, adjusting Peter in the crook of his left arm, so his right hand was free to hold a pen and continue with his work. The baby grasped at his fingers, tiny hands curling around his thumb, and the Finn couldn't help but smile. He was too kind, that was his problem- usually his generosity stopped at taking the odd puppy off the streets, not looking after his boss' son for free. Hopefully this would all go smoothly, and Mister Oxenstierna would come to collect his son in a peaceful environment.

Things didn't go quite as smoothly as he'd hoped, but when Mister Oxenstierna returned Peter was changed, fed and asleep. He didn't show it, but Tino could tell that the man was relieved that he hadn't stumbled upon a scene of destruction. "How was he?" It took the Finnish man a moment to work past the strong accent, but he grinned up at the Swedish man. Somehow, seeing him holding his son with such care was enough proof that Mister Oxenstierna really was a kind man, even if tried to hide it.

"He's a lovely boy. He was no bother, really." His boss nodded along with his words, and Tino suspected that he could pick up on his own relief. Everything had gone relatively well, despite the fact he was only used to looking after Hanatamago-

"C'n you look after him again?" The Swede's words shocked Tino out of his self-satisfied gaze, and he stared, speechless, at him. Mister Oxenstierna shrugged, mindful of the sleeping baby in his arms. "It'd be better if someone I knew looked after him. Not during work hours- Ah'm just busy with late nights a lot. He's only got me."

Tino would not have said that he knew the Swedish man well. They shared the occasional lift together in uncomfortable silence, sometimes got coffee at the same time and had short conversations from time to time. Evidently though, his boss had the impression that they were well acquainted. Well, the man did give him a job. Despite himself, Tino felt his heartstrings pulled at the half-hopeful words. He was all Peter had? He spoke up at this, voice timid. "Is Peter's mother unable to look after him?" He knew he was probably being intrusive, his fears confirmed when Mister Oxenstierna's mouth tightened slightly, giving a short jerk of his head.

"We're not together. Made a deal to give me full custody if she had him. Signed him over an hour after he was born- haven't seen her since."

"I'm so sorry." Tino's face creased with genuine pity, now regretting asking the question. Poor Peter, without a mother to look after him- and his poor father, having to look after him on his own; the Finnish man sighed sadly, mind now set. "Sure. Of course I'll look after him. How often would it be?" Mister Oxenstierna didn't react to his agreement, but Tino imagined that he was probably crying internal tears of joy. Maybe.

"Just a few nights a week, at my house. He goes to daycare, but I have to hire a sitter at nights. Is it alr'ght?"

"It's fine, Mister Oxenstierna." He could always earn a little extra money that way. And, of course, he'd been kicked in the feelings with the story of the Swedish man's ex-girlfriend. He needed to stop being so caring- but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing-

"Thanks, T'no. I'll call when I have to." With a last nod, Mister Oxenstierna picked up the bag of baby supplies and headed to the door. "Oh. Call me Berwald." Tino blinked, and hesitantly mustered up a smile as the Swede left, bag and briefcase slung on one arm and his son in the other. The Finn huffed, sitting back down in his chair and slamming his forehead on the heavy desk.

What was he doing, offering to look after his boss' son? Going on a mad do-gooders thought, he told himself sternly. Well. He supposed things wouldn't be too bad, even if Mister- Berwald- had offered him the job so unexpectedly. But the poor man seemed desperate, so young and with a little boy to look after. How could he say no, even if it was a hasty decision made, and Berwald himself admittedly quite terrifying?

...young, successful men with small children didn't usually turn out to be serial killers who lured unwitting victims to their homes, did they?

Tino prayed for his own safety that night.

Thankfully, Berwald turned out to be a perfectly innocent man, whose only goal was to look after his son. Tino found it adorable that, despite his stern demeanour, the Swedish man clearly adored Peter, and vice versa. Peter was a sweet boy, if excitable and hard to settle, and seemed to attach himself to Tino almost immediately. His nights babysitting- usually three or four nights a week- usually ended with them both asleep, Peter curled into his chest after Tino fell asleep reading him a bedtime story.

Tino soon discovered that if it was a Friday night Berwald wouldn't wake him up, instead letting him sleep throughout the night at his house with a blanket wrapped around him. The first few times had the Finnish man incredibly embarrassed- who falls asleep babysitting their boss' son?- but he had gradually accepted that the Swedish man was, indeed, kind at heart. He still blushed when he woke up on Saturday mornings to fresh coffee made by Berwald, though. If anything, the blond man thought it vaguely amusing, and Peter seemed delighted at the prospect of him spending more time with them.

The first time that Berwald asked him to stay for dinner, Tino was incredibly flustered and was half inclined to turn his offer down. Having dinner with his boss was something else- or was he reading into things too much? However, his mind was quickly changed by the smell of fish cooking from the kitchen. Tino staying for dinner soon became a regular occurrence, though Berwald was usually silent with his opinion the times Tino offered to cook. Sure, the Finn cooked strange dishes, but they were delicious even if he said so himself. After all, the Swedish man did seem to have an easy time clearing his plate.

Berwald was a softer man than he'd expected. He wasn't a man of many words and rarely displayed emotion, but there was always a glimpse of a smile when he played with Peter. Once, he'd even laughed when Peter relayed the story of an eventful stay at daycare at one particular dinner- his son had turned into quite the motor mouth when he finally grasped the concept of speech at eleven months old. His first word had been Papa, and Tino could swear that he'd never seen such delight in a person other than Berwald at that moment.

"Scares people sometimes," he'd said one night, reaching into Peter's crib to stroke the boy's cheek with a deliberate care as Tino leaned against the door frame, watching him fondly. "Think it's strange Ah don't usually react to things. Makes them think there's somethin' wrong with me, like Ah don't have emotions." He'd been cut off when Tino approached him to take hold of his arm, patting his hand and forcing the Swede to look at him.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Tino's voice had been quiet, violet eyes focused on Berwald's own. "Some people don't understand. You don't have to physically express emotions to show that you have any. You're a wonderful father to Peter, and anyone should be able to see that. You're a great friend to me. You're a good man, Berwald- don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

His words, spoken with true sincerity, had Berwald studying his face, apparent fascinated at the determination written over his features. Then the corners of his lip quirked in a tiny smile, and he bowed his head. Tino understood him enough to know that he was grateful, and his own smile mirrored Berwald's.

A short time later, they were both shocked- and Tino indignant- at Peter's new term of affection for the Finnish man, one he refused to stop using no matter how many times Tino begged.

"I'm not your Mama, Peter. Please stop calling me that." While Berwald had simply left him to it, reasoning that his son would soon stop if given no attention, Tino had resorted to bribery. Peter was nearly two, and despite the large bag of liquorice and other candies provided by his babysitter, resolutely stuck to his new nickname. Tino did love the boy, but his patience was tested with Peter's refusal to give in to his bribery.

"But if you aren't my Mama," Peter had said stubbornly, arms crossed in an oh-so adorable impression of his father, "who is?" It was here that Tino had nearly cried for the motherless boy, and later grudgingly accepted the nickname. He was the other primary adult in the boy's life, the other being his father, so it made some sense that he'd given him the term.

However, Tino did questioned the boy's logic of addressing him, a male, with a traditionally feminine role. He supposed that it couldn't be taken as a direct insult to his masculinity, Peter being as young as he was. Hopefully it would be something he grew out of it, though for some reason he gloomily doubted the odds of this happening.

Berwald just seemed amused by the whole situation, and Tino suspected that the Swede was probably encouraging Peter when he wasn't around for his own entertainment.

It was a month later that Berwald asked him out to dinner. Peter had been grinning and giggling for days and wouldn't answer Tino's curious questions as to his good nature, so he should have expected something like this to happen. The man had struggled with what to say, accent becoming even more unintelligible in his frustration and embarrassment, until Tino stepped in and took his hand, smiling tentatively up at the man. He barely reached the man's shoulder, but that was forgotten as violet eyes met blue.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Berwald. Thank you." He tried to hide his laughter at seeing the mingled relief and delight in Berwald's eyes, the Swedish man's hand tight around his. They went out for dinner that night, and to Tino's surprise, Berwald kissed him when they were finished. His lips were surprisingly soft and his touch even softer, fingers hesitant upon Tino's face. He did have to bend down, and Tino balance on the tips of his toes to reach each other, but he really wasn't complaining. That night, in his own home, Tino had laid in bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and trying to tame the smile threatening to split his face.

After that, they settled into some sort of routine. Peter usually came along with them on their 'dates', and before long, Hanatamago did too. There wasn't much they could do with both a young child and a small dog but neither complained when they usually ended up at the park, Peter chasing Hanatamago about while Tino and Berwald watched from one of the benches. Their conversations were usually just the Finnish man talking and the Swede listening in silence, but it was nice all the same. While they were dating, Tino had gotten a new job as a receptionist to the local sauna. The pay wasn't quite as good but the hours were more agreeable with his looking after Peter, and it had been awkward dating his boss.

"Gonna miss ya," Berwald had said suddenly one night, when they were both lying in bed together. The Swedish man was running his hand along Tino's waist and the curve of his hip, and the smaller man wriggled uncomfortably at his actions. It wasn't that he didn't like Berwald's caress- he was embarrassed at himself, at his feminine waist and full hips he wanted rid of.

"You'll still see me here, silly. We hardly saw each other in work anyway." He inched sideways, away from Berwald. The other man propped himself up on his elbow, looking confused at Tino's actions. His glasses were off, meaning that he might just have been searching for Tino with his bad eyesight, but he seemed perturbed as to why the Finnish man was nearly falling off the bed with his proximity to the edge.

"What's wr'ng? D'you need m're space?"

"No, it's just..." Tino flushed, irritated at himself, while Berwald patiently waited for an answer. "...I've been putting on weight. Probably need to cut down on the liquorice ice cream or something." Cheeks burning with humiliation, he was interrupted when Berwald pulled him into a deep kiss, one hand cupping his face and the other freely stroking along his torso.

"Y're beautiful," he said quietly when the separated, both struggling to catch their breath. "Don't worry 'bout things like that. Y're beautiful to me." Tino had blinked, stunned at his words, and at the soft smile gracing Berwald's features. He buried his face into the Swede's chest, arms wrapped around him while Berwald stroked back his hair.

Tino had never expected that he would actually be in a relationship with the man, let alone fall in love with him. But how could he resist? Berwald Oxenstierna was outwardly stoic but inwardly the most loving man that he'd ever met. Whatever his boyfriend said, he was the one lucky to have the Swede.

Berwald

two years ago

Several months later, the Finnish man had been running around his kitchen when the phone rang, toast jammed in his mouth and Hanatamago barking at his ankles. He answered it to find Berwald on the other end, and Tino was surprised at the carefully controlled and cold tone of voice the Swedish man used.

"T'no, I need you to watch Pet'r for me t'morrow. Is that all right?" Tino frowned at his tone, leaning down to shake the can of dog food into Hanatamago's bowl.

"Of course. What's wrong?" Oh God, please don't be planning a break up. He hadn't heard the Swede's voice so somber in months, if at all. But why did he need him to look after Peter, if he was going to break up with him-?

"H've to go to a funeral."

"Oh Berwald, I'm so sorry." Tino stood, hand moving to cover his mouth. This he hadn't expected, and scolded himself for jumping to conclusions. "Is it... anyone close? A family member?" He suspected Peter's birth mother, maybe, judging by Berwald's attitude. He'd never met the woman, was incredulous as to why she'd refuse to see a boy as lovely as Peter, but didn't wish death on her.

"My aunt." Berwald's voice betrayed no emotion, while on the other end, Tino's kind nature was taking a beating. What an awful thing to happen to Berwald, who didn't appear to be close to many members of his family!

"I'm so sorry, Berwald-"

"Don't be. Killed herself." Tino froze, eyes wide. Berwald sounded unexpectedly cold, and... angry? There must be more to the story that the Finnish man didn't know. "T'ld my cousin that she was going grocery shopping, an' left her purse at home. Took her car an' drove over the suspension bridge. P'lice searched the river last night an' found her." Tino swallowed, feeling bile rise in his throat.

"That's terrible. Of course I'll take care of Peter. Do you want me to come over?" Berwald wouldn't have revealed it, but Tino knew that Swede would be hurting right now. There a silence on the other end, then a sigh.

"Yes."

Tino was at his house twenty minutes later, Hanatamago on a leash looped around his arm. After letting the dog run to Peter, it only took one look at Berwald's stiff, ashen face for Tino to wrap his arms around him and hug him tightly.

Berwald attended the funeral the next day, while Tino stayed at his home and read to Peter from his collection of The Moomins. When he returned, Berwald said nothing about the funeral, and the topic was untouched for two weeks. Then, unexpectedly, Berwald brought it up again during dinner, while Tino was wiping Peter's mouth and half concentrating on the Swede's words.

"Didn't tell you why my aunt died." He was careful to use died, rather than killed herself, around three-year-old Peter. Tino glanced up, a mixture of curiosity and unease on his features. "Y'know it was deliberate."

"Yes." The Finnish man busied himself with cutting his fish into miniscule particles, eyes uncertain on Berwald's. "Do you know why?"

"Police guessed. Her son's been ill all his life, and she couldn't cope anym're. He was being admitted into h'spital again, and she just gave up. Thought it'd be good f'r him if she wasn't around." Despite his tone being hushed, mindful of Peter, Berwald sounded furious. Tino paled, thumbnail digging into his palm.

"That's so sad. But what about her son? How is he?"

"Devastated. Thinks it's his fault." Berwald's hand curled into a fist as he tried to control his temper. "He's getting bett'r. He has a normal life; he isn't even in h'spital a lot, he plays sports, he's happy- now he blames hims'lf for her." Tino could pick up on the upset hidden behind Berwald's anger, and his hand curled around the Swede's.

"There must have been something else, that caused her to do that. Poor woman- and her son, too. What's wrong with him?"

"Enlarg'd heart. It's not serious- just gets palp'tations sometimes, an' has to stay in h'spital. Found out when he was a kid, an' his dad left when he heard. Didn't want to deal w'th a sick child. He's sixteen, nearly sev'nteen. Name's Mathias." Berwald paused while Tino took in the information. "He's not well enough to take care of h'mself, an' he's not legal age. Needs some'ne around in case his heart starts actin' up."

"Oh, no." Tino seemed close to tears, and Berwald stared at him in alarm. "That's just not fair! He doesn't deserve that- what's going to happen to him?" A new idea formed in his head, and he leaned closer to the Swede, tone beseeching. "You should ask him to move in here! He's going to go into care otherwise, right? And you have the spare bedroom- Berwald, I know this is sudden, but it's just so unfair for him!" He was taken aback by Berwald's small, guilty smile.

"Was gonna ask him to m've in. We're cousins- least I c'n do. Was gonna ask you what you thought, but you already suggest'd it."

"You-" Tino wasn't quite sure what to say in response, but felt a weight taken off his shoulders. He didn't even know Berwald's cousin, this Mathias boy, but felt pity for him all the same. At least they were on the same wavelength. "You're a kind man, Berwald."

"You've told me that before." Regardless of Peter's shriek, Berwald leaned forwards to press a kiss to Tino's lips.

Mathias moved in a week later. From what Berwald had said, Mathias was a cheerful, talkative type of character, but the young man carrying in the boxes filled with all his possessions begged to differ. The Danish boy looked haunted, and his smile did nothing to hide his pale complexion and deadened eyes. Here was a teenager whose mother had killed herself because of his illness, and his grief was plain to see.

"Thanks for this, Berwald," he'd said quietly, setting the last of the boxes in the spare bedroom- his bedroom now, Tino supposed. Berwald had only inclined his head and disappeared downstairs, leaving Mathias and Tino alone together. Mathias turned to Tino, giving an odd smile. "So you're Berwald's boyfriend? I'd say that he's told me all about you, but he doesn't talk about anything much."

"He never does. But yes, I am. It's nice to meet you, Mathias." What was he supposed to say to Mathias? He liked the boy already, that was for sure, but he had no idea what to say to him. The boy had just lost his mother and blamed himself, how was he supposed to say something that wouldn't upset him? He was saved by the sound of running footsteps and the arrival of Peter, the young boy skidding into the room and giddy with excitement.

"Uncle Mathias!" Technically the two were first cousins once removed, but as Mathias was so delighted with the moniker, no one attempted to correct him. Peter had loved Mathias from almost the first moment he stepped through the door. "Can you come play with me outside?" Tino have expected Mathias to refuse but the Dane simply grinned, stepping to the door and ruffling Peter's hair, demeanor completely switched around.

"Course I will, little guy. Hey, you should see me playing baseball, I'm brilliant!" The teenager crouched down, and Peter squealed when Mathias pulled him into a piggyback. "See you later, Tino; I just gotta show my nephew who is the coolest uncle."

Mathias settled in well, and his attitude slowly improved to one more positive. Soon, he was cheerful and upbeat- more like the boy Berwald knew, the seventeen-year-old both Tino and Peter had grown to love. Berwald's feelings were less clear, but at least he tolerated Mathias living in his home. The Danish boy's heart problems were minor, if anything, and he seemed unperturbed by the cocktail of drugs he was required to take every morning.

He wasn't entirely healed, however. Occasionally there was the sound of muffled sobs from his room at night, out of sight of anyone else. Berwald had the impression that Mathias was determined to show no sign of weakness to any of them. None of them knew how to approach him- or what to say. After all, neither he nor Tino were struggling with feelings of guilt, under the impression that their health had driven away their fathers and caused their mothers to kill themselves. All the Swede thought to do was let Mathias come to speak to them in his own time.

Tino's ideas were slightly different, sitting down in the kitchen one late afternoon. Mathias had been drying the dishes but had stopped suddenly to stare, sightlessly, out of the window. Tino watched Mathias' prone figure, the tears sliding down his face, and had risen to his feet. He'd hesitantly hugged him from behind, his forehead pressed to his back. The Dane turned with a shaky smile, moving his arm back to ruffle Tino's pale hair.

"What's this for?

"You looked like you needed a hug." Tino's voice was muffled, and Mathias smiled sadly at his words. Maybe the Dane had been under the impression that he was able to hide his depression from them all. Maybe he thought that they just didn't want to know.

"Berwald and Peter are lucky to have you, you know. You're a great guy, Tino. Things are better, now you're here. I mean, they've hardly had easy lives..."

"Have any of you had easy lives?"

Mathias could give him no reply. A moment later he twisted around to return Tino's hug, burying his face in the smaller man's neck as sobs wracked his lanky frame.

He had tried to hide his pain, before it had gotten too hard to contain. All Tino could do was hold him as he cried and hope that in some way, just being there for Mathias would help him.

There wasn't much else he could hope to do.

Emil

one year ago

"So is there, like, anything to do around here?"

"My timetable says I have Mister Clark first period. You're in my class, right? What's he like?"

"Are you deaf, or just ignoring me?" This time the boy stepped in his path, waving a hand in front of his face. Emil stopped, staring at him, and the boy took it as some sort of victory. "Now I've got your attention, will you actually talk to me? I don't know where I'm supposed to go." Emil nodded vacantly, reaching to take the timetable the boy offered.

"Your day is the same as mine. It's Math first period- Mister Clark is okay, I suppose. I'll show you where your classes are, if you want." He'd been grabbed when he first walked in with Lukas this morning and dragged to the office, where he'd been asked- or rather, forced- to show the new transfer student around.

"Cool." The boy followed close to his heels, now pulling his phone out and beginning to text. "So what's your name?"

"Uh..." Emil glanced around at the numbered doors, searching for their class. "Emil Stielsson." Despite himself, he blushed when the boy raised his eyebrows. "My dad was from Iceland. It's weird, I know-"

"No, I like it." He'd gone back to his texting, eyes focused on the screen even as he spoke. "My name's Li Xiao. Or Leon. Call me Leon." He saw Emil's confused expression and cracked a wan smile. "My mum's Chinese, my dad's English. I've got a name for both."

That explained things. When he first saw the boy, standing in the entrance hall with his siblings, Emil had noticed the slight difference in facial appearance from the rest of them. Actually, they all looked fairly dissimilar from each other. "What about your siblings?" If he'd counted correctly, Leon appeared to be one of four children. Thank God he only had Lukas.

"Nope. We've all got different dads." Leon frowned in thought, tucking away his phone for a moment to count on his fingers. "Yao's is Chinese, Kiku's Japanese, Yong Soo's is Korean, Kasem's Thai... Mei's is from Taiwan, Lien's Vietnam, and mine's from England. Yeah, there's seven of us. Our mum got around a lot. We like to joke that our family has most of South-Eastern Asia in it."

"Oh. My brother and I have different fathers, too. His is Norwegian." Really, Emil had no idea why he was telling Leon this- he rarely spoke about his personal life to anyone. He couldn't, however, deny that there was something strangely likeable about the other boy. "Our mother isn't the child-raising kind, and she probably thinks having two kids was more than enough."

"Bit different from mine then. I don't think she knew when to stop." Leon suddenly grinned, even as they approached the door to their class. "Hey, wait for me at the end of class so I know where to go."

"Um. Okay." Emil had accepted that Leon was probably going to abandon him for other, 'cooler' people as soon as they reached class, but it seemed not. "We're got Geography after. That's kind of boring, so you can just use your phone in class..."

"My kind of thing. Thanks, Emil."

"You're welcome, Leon."

To Emil's surprise, they soon became friends.

Emil usually shared everything with Lukas, willingly or not. His older brother was under the impression that he knew him inside and out, and that he was aware of everything that happened in Emil's life. Lukas simply expected it, because they were so close to one another, and presumed that Emil would inform him of anything that happened to him.

He had no idea Emil was keeping secrets from him. The Icelandic boy hadn't set out to do it, of course. But for once, it was nice to have something that was his, and not something shared with Lukas. Or rather, someone.

Leon had been over at their home several months after they'd first met, and they had been sitting in Emil's room studying for a class test. His mother hadn't been home, as usual, and Lukas was staying late at school for some coursework or other. Emil had asked Leon to pass him the textbook, and instead of handing it to him, Leon leant over and unexpectedly kissed him.

"What was that for?" he said, stunned, when Leon pulled back. The other boy raised his thick eyebrows coolly, clearly having expected a better reaction.

"I just felt like kissing you. What's wrong?" Emil has struggled with something to say. Leon's complete serenity hadn't helped matters.

"I ask you for my book, and you kiss me? You can't do that, Leon! You can't just kiss someone all of a sudden!"

"But you enjoyed it." Leon seemed utterly confused with his reaction, and at the blush flaring across Emil's face.

"Yes, well. You should have asked me first!"

Leon considered this for a moment. "Then can I please kiss you, Emil?"

"...yes."

He hadn't expected Leon to have such a shit-eating grin as in the moment he reconnected to their lips again.

Neither of them mentioned anything about a relationship; it was something that just seemed to happen gradually, and before either of them knew it, they were in one. Of course, most of their time together was in school- in their shared classes, at lunchtimes, at the library after school, but Emil couldn't complain. He had someone close to, he could confide in, who was his age and actually understood him.

He wasn't sure if Leon's brothers and sisters had guessed that they were dating, or if Leon had told him; the other boy simply hadn't brought it up. The one thing he did know was that Lukas certainly hadn't guessed, and he had no intention of telling him any time soon.

He wasn't quite sure of his reasoning. For now, he wanted to keep Leon to himself. He didn't want Lukas to know this detail of his life. His brother seemed suspicious- making excuses to be in the room when Leon was over, asking Emil everything that happened if he ever went out for the day with him, just little things that made Emil all the more determined to hide his relationship from Lukas.

Maybe he didn't want to break it to Lukas that he was a teenager now, that he didn't need his brother in his life pouring over every detail. It would hurt him so much, he was so used to being Emil's guardian- yet despite his feelings of guilt, the Icelandic boy couldn't quite bring himself to let Lukas know what was going on.

"So you're going to the cinema with Leon?" his brother would ask, suspicion dusting the edge of his tone, and Emil would nod, trying to keep his features innocent.

"Yeah, just for a couple of hours. It's nice, to actually have a friend. A proper one. You know what I mean."

He'd feel guilty then, because Lukas didn't know what it was like to have friends. He, like Emil, was a loner but he, unlike Emil, didn't have a Leon in his life. All his brother could do was slowly nod, and turn away as Emil left the room in a hurry.

At the time, it had seemed like a good, if cruel, ruse. But that day, when he got the phone call from the hospital telling him that Lukas was ill, Emil felt it crashing down among him like glass.

His father had never been around, at all. The divorce from his mother had come at a tricky time, and his mother had only found out that she was pregnant when the whole thing was done and dusted. His brother had been a year old at the time, and nearly two when Emil was born.

Emil's first memory was of Lukas teaching him how to tie his shoelaces.

His brother was his constant defender and protector. He helped him with his homework, read to him, taught him to ride a bicycle and patched him up every time he fell off. He did everything a brother should, and he was really all that Emil had. When he was five, and a boy in his class had pushed him off the swing set, Lukas was sent to the principal's office for punching the kid in the face.

It was an understatement to say that Emil adored his older brother. When he got the call to say that Lukas was in the hospital, ill with a heart defect, there was only one thing he felt.

Guilt.

"Kid, it's not your fault. Stop blaming yourself." School had let out for the summer, and Emil spent most of his time at his neighbour's home, chin on the table and temperament melancholic. While he himself was still, Sadık never stopped moving; he was either at the gym, trying to woo the young Hungarian woman who lived down the street or, like now, bustling around his kitchen and making lunch for them both. "How were you supposed to guess he was sick? Your brother doesn't exactly make things obvious, you know."

"I'm supposed to guess because he's my brother," Emil said miserably, and Sadık rolled his eyes as he set the plate of lahmacun in front of him. "He'd have known if there was something wrong with me. If I had told him to go to hospital before, maybe he wouldn't be so ill. I don't think his surgery worked, Pops. His pulse was still fast."

"Emil. Just because his pulse was still fast doesn't mean that the surgery didn't work." The Turkish man slid into the chair facing him, reaching out to clap down on Emil's shoulder. "Have a little faith. Do you really expect Lukas to give up and die in there? He's a stubborn little guy. You share that in common, actually." Despite Sadık's grin, Emil didn't look convinced.

"What if he doesn't get better?" The Icelandic boy's appetite had disappeared, and he sat back with a sigh. Sadık's cat took the opportunity to jump into his lap and settle down, purring, while Emil patted him absent-mindedly. The Turkish man now looked exasperated, and Emil flinched when he reached over to ruffle his hair.

Lukas couldn't understand why Emil took a liking to the man next door. Thirty-two year old Sadık was literally twice his age, but he was nice, and didn't treat him like a child. His brother had a hard time facing up to the fact that Emil could look after himself- in his mind he was still the little boy who climbed into his bed when he had nightmares, who would hide behind him and hold his leg when nervous, and who relied entirely on his older brother. He hadn't been that child for years, and Lukas still didn't want to accept that.

Besides, Sadık was fun to be around. He was like a much older, less responsible brother- or indeed, like a surrogate father. Despite them being neighbours, the spare bedroom had been used more than once by Emil sleeping over- something that had increased in frequency since Lukas had been admitted to hospital. Sadık was one of his actual, genuine friends, and right now, one of the few people he could rely on.

"Kiddo, he will. I promise you. If I fell nearly fifty metres rock climbing and survived with my handsome fact intact, he's going to get better from a little skipping-beat heart." Emil smiled weakly, and Sadık took this as a sign of his words working. "You trust me, don't you? But you need to stop worrying about him. He's in the best place right now, and there's nothing you can do. Listen to your Pops." He paused, then leant forwards to draw Emil into a hug. "Trust me on this." Emil nodded slowly and a moment later, returned the hug.

"Thanks, Pops."

"Think nothing of it." Sadık sat back, and the Icelandic boy could only too quickly recognise what his shark-like grin meant. "Besides your brother, how does this sound? I found out that the Hungarian girl- you know, the pretty one- goes to the gym every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. How about I change the times I go there to match hers, and ask her out for a drink after? I don't think I can come up with a better plan-"

"-unless she turns you down," Emil deadpanned, eyebrows raised. "Is she really going to want to go drink alcohol after going to the gym?"

"Emil, you're supposed to agree with me on this!"

"I can't if your idea is bad!" Most of their conversations ended up like this, if he was honest. That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy his half-serious, half-mocking disagreements with Sadık, and the knowledge that there was still someone close he could rely on.

That night, Emil did something that he hadn't done in years. Alone in the empty house, mother god knows where, he had knelt beside his bed and prayed.

"Um... I don't really know who I'm going to be talking to. Odin, maybe...? The King of the Gods...? I always thought that was Zeus, but Lukas is kind of big into Norse mythology... he doesn't broadcast it much, but he has the books in his room." Emil cleared his throat, aware that he was probably going wildly off topic. "I just- anyone who is listening, and god out there- please make him better. Please let my brother get better. I know I don't go to church, or worship, or whatever- I'm hardly religious at all. But I need a miracle. I haven't needed anything as much in my life, and probably never will again."

Emil blinked sudden tears out of his eyes, scrubbing a sleeve across his face. "I might not deserve this, but he does. He loves me, and he's always protected me and for the past couple of months, I haven't appreciated him enough, if at all. I just want my big brother back. He's all I have. So please, anyone, anyone at all... let him get better. If not for me, for him. Please let Lukas get better. I'll do anything." He took in a shaky breath, aware of the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please. Make sure Lukas gets better. Just let him live."

Emil would give everything that he had, just to make his big brother better. It would be a sufficient repayment, for Lukas' lifelong care towards him.