carry on, my wayward son
The old people always died soon after they were admitted.
Mathias quickly came to learn the stages after death on the human body, sitting in his hospital bed and quietly observing what would be the day-to-day happenings. A person's eyes would cloud over with a grey film, their skin would pale to a whitish-blue, and their bowels would empty- frankly, that part disgusted him. Depending on how long it took the nurses to actually notice someone had kicked the bucket, rigour mortis would set in and they would be almost impossible to move unless bodily lifted.
The one thing that always fascinated him was that they looked physically smaller after death. Their bodies would literally shrink- he never bothered to find out why, but it happened nevertheless. The human body was truly amazing.
The Danish boy always wondered what his mother had looked like after she had died. She was probably smiling on her way out.
In hospital, death surrounded him. He'd cried himself to sleep the first time that he'd seen an old geezer die, but then again, he'd only been seven at the time. Now he was seventeen, he was almost entirely indifferent to the deaths on his ward. It happened. No amount of tears could change that. They would die, shit themselves, get carted off by the orderlies and were never seen again.
At last count, he'd seen twelve people die during his six previous hospital stays. When counting this current, seventh time and including Lukas, Mathias had only ever shared a ward with thirteen other people.
The one thing he was certain of was that he would not let this one die.
Lukas was young- he had sixty, seventy years ahead of him, unlike the old people who were on their way out anyway. Mathias had been amazed to get someone his age in the ward, having simply assumed that he was the only unlucky smuck in the area to be have a heart condition at such a young age. But here he was, this adorable Norwegian boy with the filthy temper hidden within him. He'd expected Lukas to be- well, he wasn't quite sure what he expected the boy to be like. The slender, waif like figure, platinum hair and soft, pale features did well to hide his inner viciousness.
Mathias blamed his excitement going through the roof on seeing someone young on the ward. That probably explained why he decided the best course of action was to climb on the bed and poke Lukas until he woke up. He couldn't hold himself back- straight away he wanted to get to know this boy, with a desperation Mathias wasn't aware that he had. Someone his age, who shared his own heart problems; the temptation was too much, and Mathias gave into the lust of wanting someone who might understand him.
But of course, Lukas wasn't quite so simple when he got to know him. It was his first time in hospital, struck down for his first time with this weird arihyma thing, and he seemed determined to keep his distance from Mathias. It was just too bad that the Dane had always loved a challenge. And when Lukas had finally started to respond to him, to speak to him and confide and trust him- well, it was a challenge won for Mathias.
He'd seen the loneliness in Lukas' eyes, the solitary that was mirrored in his own, and he knew that he'd finally found someone who understood him.
His father had wasted no time in running off when they'd found out he was sick. His mother had decided that driving off of a bridge was better than dealing with him any longer. Sure, his cousin's family was great- Tino and Peter more than Berwald, mind- and he loved living with them, but they had each other. They were the perfect little family of Daddy, Mommy and Son- and then there was him. The sick cousin with the bad jokes, who pissed everyone off and drove his own mother to suicide. He was the odd one out, the black sheep of the family and boy, did he know it.
And then there was Lukas.
He was deluding himself that his family was still hanging together. Mathias had seen the lovebites on his brother's neck during one of his frequent visits, no matter how much Emil had tugged at his shirt collar to hide them. His mother didn't seem to care, judging by her lack of appearance and time spent in work. His brother was off with a boyfriend Lukas only saw as his friend. In a way, he supposed that the Norwegian understood that his grasp and protection on Emil was dwindling, slipping through his fingers like water, but Lukas simply didn't want to face up to it. He'd been the same way, back when he was five, maybe six. He'd told himself that Daddy would be home soon, that he'd just gone to do business, that he'd come back to them because he loved them.
Man, was he a deluded kid.
It was laughable, in a depressing way. Two eighteen year olds, surrounded by family and yet so alone. Berwald and Tino could probably see through his smart-ass comments and jokes- and most of the time, he was happy and carefree- but he hoped that Lukas hadn't, that the Norwegian was still under the impression that he could get himself through anything. Maybe then Lukas would start to really trust him, and believe that Mathias really was there for him.
Mathias wanted nothing more than to be there for Lukas, for the Norwegian to understand that he knew how he felt. He knew how it felt to be alone, to feel like a burden, to worry about others before himself, just as Lukas did. Damn it, he could help him! He was someone who didn't pretend to know how he felt, someone with real empathy, someone to whom Lukas could cry and let out his feelings and stop pretending he was in control when he so painfully wasn't.
Every conversation started by Lukas, every smile or playful jab directed towards him- Mathias welcomed them all eagerly. In such a short time he'd fallen for the Norwegian hook, line and sinker, and there didn't seem to be a way of losing his new found feelings. He didn't want to lose his new found feelings, not now he'd found someone like Lukas.
He'd seen Lukas' loneliness, and wanted to be the one to rid him of that. To make him smile properly, to convince him that things could get better, to be the one person that could sit down, listen and empathise with him. Mathias wanted to be all that, and more. He wanted to protect the Norwegian
And hell, he'd make Lukas realise that.
"Five down, eight letters- to care for someone in a loving manner." Mathias chewed on the end of his pencil, frowning down at the crossword on his knees.
"Compassion? No, that's too long. Do you know any letters in it?"
"It ends in 'n'... I'm just going to move on. Seven across, four letters, a Danish children's toy... duh, it's Lego. What idiots write these?" The Dane scribbled down the answer, throwing a glance over at Lukas. "I have a few spare, if you want any."
"I'm terrible at crosswords. Thanks, though." Lukas went back to Mathias' book, listlessly flicking through the pages. "I wouldn't have thought you liked crosswords. Somehow, it doesn't seem like your type of thing."
"It's something to do- I'm just so bored. I don't even know if I'm going to get valve surgery or not!" Mathias whined, now hunting in his bedside cabinet for any remaining sweets. "I'm pretty bad at them too. I really want to get out of here, even if it's just for the day. Tino's probably overfeeding Hamlet while I'm gone."
"...Hamlet? Who is Hamlet?" The Norwegian raised his eyebrows, curiosity stirred, and Mathias shrugged and smiled.
"My cat. Tino spoils him far too much, and every time I come home from hospital he's usually put on a stone or two, just about. I heard hospitals sometimes have cats and rabbits to lower a patient's blood pressure but nooo, I'm not allowed to bring my cat in here with me. It's so unfair, because I'd probably get better quicker if I had him in with me! My blood pressure would go down like that."
"Those animals are probably specially trained, idiot." Lukas paused, his tone now vaguely impressed. "I didn't know that you liked cats. I've got one, too; he's called Norge. Emil has a kitten, and he's looking after them both while I'm here. He's not really the spoiling type, though he takes that stupid puffin of his everywhere he can."
"He has a pet puffin? Dude, that's awesome." Mathias sounded impressed, and he lent over to Lukas, straining to reach him with a paper bag in one hand. "Liquorice? It's homemade- Tino's is the best, believe me."
"No thank you. I've nothing against liquorice- my stomach just feels unsettled, I don't know if I'd be able to keep it down." Lukas ran a hand through his hair, the other pressed to his torso with a grimace.
"Lukas, I seriously think you need a feeding drip. I know it's horrible- and I've been on one, they're gross- but you look as if you've been losing a lot of weight recently." Mathias frowned, surveying the Norwegian. Lukas was aware of his bonier hands, the higher prominence of his cheekbones, and felt himself flush under the Dane's gaze. "I'm just worried about you, man."
"I know. You don't have to, though; worry about yourself, Mathias." He swallowed suddenly, and hesitantly looked Mathias in the eye. "If I tell you something, will you keep it quiet? I don't know if I'm right or not, and I do not want Emil to find out, but I feel like I have to tell someone. And somehow, you seem like a good listener. Your advice isn't too bad, so- will you hear me out?"
"Anything." Mathias propped himself up with an elbow, shifting in bed to fully face Lukas. "What's wrong?"
Lukas' fingers smoothed down the edge of his covers as he tried to stem the panic rising in his stomach. Of course, he could be wrong- but he knew something was wrong. He just felt it. "My heart- it still feels fast. It feels like it did back when I was first admitted, before the surgery. Mathias, I don't think the surgery worked. I think I still have arrhythmia."
For a few moments, Mathias was still as he tried to decipher Lukas' words. Then, all of a sudden, he almost exploded with emotion. "Lukas, you want me to keep it quiet? Mother of God- you're not well! You- this isn't good, Lukas. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go find a doctor and tell them that you're still ill?" His voice was incredulous, face a mask of shock, and the Norwegian felt panic rise in his throat.
"Mathias, please- please don't tell a doctor. They'll know if there's something wrong with me. I could be wrong about this!" His tone was wheedling, appealing to the Dane and his rising fury. "I'm just worrying myself, I know I am- please, just keep it quiet. Please, just promise me that you won't- I could be getting better, I really could! They said the therapy would work in the majority of surgeries performed-"
"-and what if you're in the minority?" Mathias interrupted, eyebrows pulled together in a deep scowl. "How long did you keep your illness quiet the first time, Lukas? How long were you ill for before you were admitted? This is not good- no wonder you've been losing weight. You tell a doctor, you hear me? I don't care if it's nothing, you find out what exactly is wrong with you and get it sorted!"
"And what if it's fatal?" Lukas challenged, his frantic heartbeats now because of his anger. "What then, Mathias? Do I just live out the rest of my life in this hospital until I die?"
"God damn it, Lukas! It's not going to be fatal, but you sort this out!" The Danish boy was breathing heavily, anger so blindingly obvious. "Think about Emil. Think about me. What if you get worse because of something you could have sorted out? How is that going to feel?"
"Why are you so upset about this anyway? It's not your health-"
"You can be so selfish, Lukas. I care about you, even though you can be a selfish, arrogant bastard sometimes." Lukas blinked, stunned at Mathias' sudden outburst. "Stop trying to act better than me- maybe you are, maybe you aren't, but I'm sick of you acting so superior and like you're a martyr. People care about you. I care about you. It isn't just you that your health affects; it's everyone around you, and you need to get your head out of your ass and realise that. I know what it's like to be sick, for people to worry about you even if you aren't worried yourself. Swallow your pride and listen to me for once, will you?"
Without a moment's notice Mathias rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over his head with his back to Lukas. The Norwegian was speechless, taken aback at everything the Dane said.
...had he been acting as if he was superior to Mathias? Had he been hurting him all this time, with his indifferent treatment of him? Mathias was irritating at times, yes- but had he ever shown Lukas anything but kindness during their time in the hospital?
"Mathias-"
"Don't want to talk to you." Mathias' voice was muffled, still hidden beneath his bed sheets, and Lukas intended to give a conversation another go before the hospital doors swung open. With the Dane still hidden, Lukas glanced up only for his mouth to fall open at the visitor approaching his bed.
"Hello, dear." Lukas' mother drew a chair up beside him, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She looked out of place here, the heels and lipstick an almost direct contrast to the bleak hospital walls. "How have you been?" Her face was the picture of ease, no hint of embarrassment or guilt at her absence clear. Lukas half-expected Mathias to speak up, to mutter something discriminating, but the Dane remained silent.
"Fine, Mor." He combed a hand through his hair, trying to sort out the disarray. While Emil had come nearly every day, this was her first visit, and he couldn't help but feel resentment towards her. "What are you doing here?"
"To see you, of course. I've been busy at the moment- and I can't stay for long, I'm afraid. How's your heart? You'll be home soon, I expect- you've been in here for a good few weeks now." How did she sound so indifferent? Her voice was uncaring, and Lukas swallowed the bitter feeling rising in his throat. As if he could have convinced himself that she was worried about him, that she was ever worried about him.
"I've been here a month." He switched to Norwegian, and she blinked in surprise at the change. "How is Emil?"
"Trust you, to be worrying about him rather than yourself. Emil is fine."
"And how often have you been home since I've been in here?" He knew that his tone was accusing, knew that his eyes were narrowed in distaste, but he couldn't hold himself back. It was always too little, too late with his mother.
"Lukas, what is this? An inquisition?" His mother's eyes- the same violet as Emil's- were incredulous.
"Just answer the question."
"I don't know- a few times, when I'm not busy." She was clearly flustered, two spots of pink appearing on her cheeks. "My schedule's rarely clear- Emil can look after himself, the Turkish neighbour's been keeping an eye on him anyway. You don't need to worry about him."
"I can't, Mother. He's my little brother- I'm always going to worry about him."
"Even with your bad health?" His mother sounded amused, but the smile soon slipped from her face at Lukas' stony nod.
The rest of her visit passed in almost complete silence, before she excused ten minutes later and quietly left. Lukas waited until she left before slipping down in his bed, covering his eyes with both hands.
"Is she gone?" Mathias' low voice cut through his subconscious, and Lukas opened one eye to see Mathias still turned away, still facing the back wall with a stony resolve.
"Yeah. She's gone." Suddenly, he was blinking hot tears back from his eyes, and scrubbed a sleeve over his face. "Gone, and probably not coming back." Lukas couldn't stop the gasp, and Mathias wriggled up in his bed to stare at him as the Norwegian broke down, the tears now running freely down his face.
"Lukas, what's wrong? What happened?" The Dane reached for his IV but hesitated, looking back to the other patient with open panic. "Come on, talk to me-"
"She doesn't care about me. She doesn't care about either of us." His sobs wracked his chest, and Lukas covered his face with a bony hand. "Probably only calm to feel better about herself- my own mother doesn't care about her children!" Silence followed his words, only disturbed by the Norwegian's tears. Mathias' gaze was focused on the ground, and he swallowed heavily before he spoke.
"She might not care, but you're lucky that you still have her around." The Dane's voice was almost wistful, and Lukas raised his head, face tearstained and voice still thick from his grief.
"What do you mean?" He thought for a moment, trying to recall Mathias' earlier words. "Is your mother not? Where is she?"
"Not around. Not anymore." Mathias' tone was quiet, and his smile was pained. "But you have Emil. That's what matters, I suppose. And you have your friends, don't you?"
Lukas had the impression that Mathias wanted to change the topic, to steer things away from family. His new line of thought wasn't any more pleasant, though, and Lukas wiped the last few tears away. "Friends? No. None."
"You have to have some friends, surely." The blond raised his head, now looking confused. "Don't tell me that you don't, Lukas. You have to have some friends."
"I really don't have anyone that I can consider a friend, Mathias," the Norwegian said heavily. "I'm not close to anyone. I don't know what it is about me, but I'm not the type to become close to anyone. I can't make friends too easily, if at all."
"But who do you work with in school, hang out with at lunch times? Lukas, don't tell me that there's no one." Lukas almost smiled at the hurt expression Mathias was wearing. Maybe the Dane had been telling the truth, when he had said that he cared.
"There's an English guy, Arthur- we hang out sometimes. He's the same as me, so I guess the two loners just pair up together. It's sad, I know. You've probably got a whole gang of friends, right?"
"Not really." Mathias still seemed upset by his words, but shrugged nonchalantly. "I've got my friends Lars and Gilbert- the teachers always call us the main troublemakers. They're great, but- I'm different, you know?" He hastened to explain himself at Lukas' raised eyebrows, adding, "it's because I'm sick. I'm out of school quite a lot, so people don't try to become close to me because they think I could get sick at any moment. It's a weird logic, but I sort of see what they mean. You're wrong about not having friends, though."
"Not really." Lukas tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear, hoping the tearstains would soon fade. "I've just told you, Mathias-"
"I'm your friend."
The quiet words stunned Lukas, and he blinked owlishly at Mathias. The Dane looked unimpressed with his surprised reaction, and it was then that he pulled out his IV and moved to sit beside Lukas on his bed.
"I'm sorry, Mathias. For acting superior to you. For being nothing but insulting." Lukas swallowed, eyes focused on his bed sheets. "It wasn't nice of me to do that. Pretty vile, actually. You've been nice to me all this time- nothing but nice to me- and I haven't appreciated that. I'll talk to the doctor if it gets worse. I promise. I- Thank you." Slowly, he reached out, and took a loose hold of the Dane's hand. "I hope you forgive me."
"I already have, idiot," Mathias mocked, the trace of a smile on his face. "Apology accepted, Lukas. I know it's bad to be in here, especially for your first time. I know you're worried about Emil, too. And when I say I understand, I really do. I've been through it already."
"You shouldn't make excuses for me, though." Lukas was aware of Mathias' fingers tightening around his own, but his gaze was focused on the Dane's face. "I haven't appreciated you, Mathias. You can be annoying sometimes- I'm not going to deny that- but you're genuinely a good person. And I know that now."
Mathias was silent for a moment, before his lips curved into a small smile. "You're the first person who's ever told me that, Lukas. I appreciate it."
It was sudden, their kiss. Neither had anticipated it, yet when Mathias had leaned down and Lukas sat up, they found themselves embracing, Mathias' mouth closing over Lukas' own. His eyes slid shut at the soft sensation, at Mathias' hand sliding through his hair, and he cupped the Dane's face with his hands. The other blond was tugging on his bottom lip and when they broke apart, the Norwegian pressed his forehead against Mathias', their breathing ragged and chests heaving.
"You're a better kisser than I thought," Lukas whispered, and when he opened his eyes, saw the grin spreading across Mathias' face. He couldn't find it in himself to be irritated at him, at their sudden kiss- he was to blame as much as Mathias, he had wanted it as much as the other boy had. The Dane tangled his hands in Lukas' hair, pulling the Norwegian to rest against his chest and pressing his lips to his forehead.
"You're not too bad yourself, Lukas. You're not too bad at all."
They remained that way for god knows how long, eyes closed and breathing in sync as Lukas pressed his ear against Mathias' chest, content to remain in his arms and listen to his heart.
Eight letters. Caring for someone in a loving manner.
Devotion.