Sov Gott

Aurora Borealis

Iceland's contact photo stared up at Hong Kong, and for the fifth time that morning alone his thumb hung over the call button. The photo was somewhat old, but it was one of his favorites. The photo was from when they were together up in Iceland's country. The Icelander had managed to bribe a local museum into letting them climb up to the crow's nest of an ancient trading ship from the seventeenth century in the winter, and while Hong Kong had been freezing at the time he had been capable of greatly admiring the landscape as well. The aurora borealis was streaking through the sky, the white snow reflecting the vibrant colors with ease. The stars stuck out so clearly against the evening blanket that Hong Kong's mouth hung open with awe. The little homes that were clustered together in towns along the coastline were lit up and merry-looking, and had brought a certain warmth to his heart.

"Wow, Ice," he had whispered, the wind catching his words and carrying them across the sea. "It's beautiful here. You were right. It definitely is worth waiting twelve hours on a plane if one gets to see this."

Iceland had brushed the comment off dismissively. "It's no more special than any other night. The same thing'll happen tomorrow night, and the night after that." Hong Kong stared at the side of Iceland's head for quite some time, seeing that the Icelander was busy watching the sky and not paying attention to him.

"Where I'm from, I'm lucky if enough people bother to turn out the lights so that we're capable of seeing a single star," Hong Kong stated bluntly, moving around to get a better look at the sky. "That, and we never get those," he added, pointing at the northern lights in the sky.

"The lights?" Iceland questioned, unfamiliar with places that lacked at least one occurrence of the aurora borealis at the time. Hong Kong nodded rather shamefully in response to Iceland's question, bringing his gaze back up to the sky. "You know, there used to be a myth about the lights in the folk stories of my country. We used to believe that the lights were caused by a great female frost giant named Gerda hit the sky. Personally, I think that sounds better than all that 'the sun's energy hits the atmosphere with such power that it causes the aurora borealis' crap. Nah, 'twas the frost giants."

Hong Kong nodded his head. "I like that theory better than the scientific version. Sometimes things are... Like, better without knowing."

Iceland had cast a sideways glance at the other boy, and he shrugged before trying to put his thoughts into words that would make sense when put together. "Sometimes it's better to look at something and create stories and let your imagination run free, like cloud patterns and flowers for instance. Science ruins that imagination and creativity. Now it's taught to every little kid in school exactly how it comes to be and exactly how it grows and lives and dies. There's no mystery to it anymore, no wonder."

Iceland nodded, muttering a quick "yeah," as he contemplated what Hong Kong had said. There was silence between them for quite some time.

"Kinda like how your brother should never know I was here," Hong Kong hd said, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he spoke.

Iceland punched his arm and started laughing. Hong Kong thought that the way Iceland's smile stuck out and dimples appeared on his cheeks was absolutely adorable. Iceland leaned on the railing for support as he laughed, but he soon regained his breath. "Hand me your phone."

"What?"

"I said hand me your phone! It's an easy phrase to understand, one would think."

"W-why?"

"Don't ask questions! Just trust me, alright?"

Hong Kong therefore gave up his phone. Iceland's eyes scanned the small screen and suddenly rested on one spot. His finger tapped the camera icon and aimed it at Hong Kong in the matter of a second. "Segðu sís!" the Icelander said and caught a stunning photo of a blur coming toward the camera that had an unidentifiable face. Hong Kong was on top of Iceland as quick as the camera had been opened, and both of Iceland's arms were pinned to the wooden planks of the crow's nest.