Emil had been sitting alone for some days. Of course the other Nordics were home, but after he and the others had talked the other day, you could say things were kind of weird. Not much out of the usual, but still.
"Why are you always so cold?" Matthias had asked.
Emil didn't consider himself cold. Not at all if he had to be honest with himself. 'I'm simply wondering, about.. stuff' Emil would tell himself. But what was he really wondering about. He had been wondering about feeling small pecks on his cheeks when he would lay in his bed at night, alone and crying his eyes out. Just because he felt so unsure. What wasn't there to be unsure about, all the other Nordics knew who they were. Both as a country and as a person. They didn't seem to struggle at all, nothing like emil at least.
But Emil would hear sweet nothings in his ear from time to time, and he would feel the softness of what he thought was the wind.
It was so unknown, so small and so minor, but yet it was what stopped Emil from crying. Because it was comforting. As if a sweetheart were hugging him from behind and telling him it would be okay, everything. A sweet nothing that was telling him that he was okay, and that it was okay, to not feel okay.
Emil couldn't think about anything else. It would keep him up at night, at least as much as it granted him to be awake, because whatever this was it was making sure Emil was alright. That he would eat, even if it was just a little liquorice. That he would sleep, even if it was just a few dreamless hours. It would make sure he showered, even when he didn't want to, but it would always leave him for the moment it took for Emil to get under the water because it respected his privacy.
It would place a warm towel and a set of sleeping wear on the toilet. And it would make Emil convince himself that he placed it there himself, but that he had been too lost in thought to realise.
And sometimes when Emil felt especially down, it would make the bed, and lay down beside of Emil and let the smaller boy snuggle into his chest. And Emil would try to hug it, because he could feel it, right against his skin. And he would sob a little, for the sole reason that he couldn't touch whatever this was. And of course it would comfort him, because it didn't want to cause him pain. Of course it didn't want that, it was protecting Emil, it was taking care of him in such a way that the others somewhat failed to do.
Emil had moved himself from the corner of his room to his bed. He sat down, the sweater he was wearing, snuggling onto him as a tight hug would, keeping him secure.
Emil was thinking. Wondering too.
He was going to dinner with his family soon, Tino's welcoming voice being heard, follow the walls, up the stairs and right under Emil's door and into his room. "Dinner is ready" The voice said. "Please come down Emil. We miss your company" The voice explained and Emil could hear that the voice was closer, preferably right outside the door. Right outside his door. Out there was the person, who's voice is welcoming, sweet and clear. The voice of a person, who loved him and cared. It was the first time in some time that someone had gone upstairs to his room.
It wasn't because they wouldn't talk to him. They really did. But at some point they just stopped coming, because they could feel a certain coldness outside Emil's door. And it made them feel not welcome. They didn't know it was it that was trying to keep Emil safe. But safe from what, exactly?
Who knows? It does. It knows.
If it didn't know, why would it do it?
Emil believed it had a reason, so he didn't think much of it. "I'll be down" Emil said, smiling a little to himself. The air had kissed him and he was blushing. The footsteps of Tino leaving could be heard, a small sigh following. Emil did go downstairs. He sat on the end chair, and he ate some peas. He ate some beans as well, but as he could feel the vegetable flow down his throat, he heard Matthias' voice fill the air. His somewhat raspy voice, a small cold could be heard. He was speaking as if nothing was wrong. And of course to him nothing was wrong. And in reality nothing was really wrong for Emil either.
But the way he talked carelessly as if today was the best day of his life, Emil couldn't help but envy him. Not too much, it was Matthias after all, but the optimistic and cheery attitude, as if nothing could take him down. As if he was perhaps king of the world, that no one could stop him from doing anything.
Emil knew that was what he thought, everyone that knew Matthias could clearly tell from his open persona.
Emil smiled a little and swallowed some more beans. He could feel a gentle breeze against his neck, his shoulders, which had before been up under his ears, slowly started falling down and relaxing.
He felt somewhat at peace, in a way hard to explain.
Dinner would soon be finished. It was the usual. Emil was asked to clear off the table, which he quickly complied to. It was weird, because every time he would clean the plates, more soap would find it's way to the plate and he couldn't get the plate completely clean. He could hear a slight chuckle in his ear, making him smile.
A small blush would find its way to Emil's freckled cheeks and his brother would notice. Of course he would notice, Lukas always notices everything.
Lukas rubbed his thumbs against the sides of Emil's crimson red ears. They were hot, it felt like Emil's heart was pumping in his throat and that a knot of blood had placed itself randomly on his face, some going to his cheeks, other to his ears and the last little bits to his nose, his freckled nose poking out. His nose looked thin and strong standing like the straight fin of a shark.
He could feel a breeze on it too. He had gotten a kiss. Or perhaps the window was open. He wanted to look, but was restrained from doing so by Lukas who was nuzzling his ears between his fingers.
Lukas would do so when they were younger as well. "Your ears are so hot" Lukas told as he finally let go of Emil's ears. Emil would hush him away like usual and look away. Emil tried to continue with his cleaning of the plates, but just like before they wont get really clean. Emil had let out a small sigh, almost not audible, but it made Lukas grab his hand. "You're so cold" He stated. "Just like always" The older of the two pulled a short smile, not noticeable to the regular eye. But Emil saw. Of course he saw, he always see. "Do you know why?.. Why you're hand is so cold?" Lukas asked, as he continued to hold onto the arm that belonged to Emil. "I see him" Lukas told, whispering it into the ear of his brother. "Who do you see?" Emil asked in a confused tone, but he knew who Lukas was talking about. Lukas was talking about it. "I see him, the ghost boy that holds your hand and the one that hug you when you cry at night." Lukas explained as he lost his grasp on Emil. "I see him and he's the reason why you're always so cold".
Emil didn't quite know how to react. He tried sending Lukas a friendly smile, hoping it would send him off. But of course it didn't. Besides, Emil wanted answers. Answers to questions he haven't even asked yet, because he couldn't quite think of a way to make an understandable sentence.
Emil wanted to know who it, well who he is. Or was, to be more precise. "Who is he? Tell me more, Lukas" Emil had said, the last part almost as a form of begging. Emil usually wasn't one for begging, but they were talking about what had been comforting him for weeks, with no end. The one that had laid with him and hugged him when no one else had the power to do it.
Emil needed to know.
Emil didn't want to not know. And he honestly couldn't help the curiosity. The way he would always try to find an excuse for the sudden movement of the wind, or the way his blanket would hug him at night. Even the strange way the towels and sleep wear made it to the toilet after he showered.
But Emil didn't want to excuse it. He had no actual excuse anymore. Because Lukas had seen it too.
Emil sighed as he looked back over at the plates. They were full soap and still weren't washed properly. Emil pulled a short smile, chuckling a little to himself. Perhaps it had just been one of those kind of laugh where you breath air out of your nose with a smile, for Lukas did not hear. Emil fingers got wet once again as he picked up the sponge from before. He rubbed the plates just as earlier, but as a difference they actually became clean once he placed them under the water.
There was no soft breeze touching his back, no soft breeze touching his anything and Emil felt somewhat lonely.
Was it because Lukas knew? Or was it because Emil wanted to know?
Emil didn't know, but he was hungry for answers. He was drying a glass when it happened. It wasn't a big thing, Emil simply pushed a plate off the counter causing it to shatter on the floor.
The white splints were placed on the glossy looking floor, spread all over in a thousand bits and pieces, at least in Emil's mind at the moment. He could see a tall figure behind him, of course Berwald had come to check on him when he heard the plate break.
The plates were new, from when Berwald needed a break some weeks back and Tino had found it soothing to take him to Ikea, only to get lost in the kitchen sections for hours that seemed to have no end at the time. 'Maybe Berwald will get mad.. They were new after all..' Emil thought as he put down the glass to clean up his mess.
Berwald was about to speak up, Emil could hear him take in a breath to scold him, but no words ever came. Not from Berwald at least. Something had stopped him.
Tino soon came into the kitchen and helped Emil clean up, while he sent away the swede with a promise that they could buy some new. Somewhere in the process of cleaning some glass had slipped, one of the pieces too small to even notice.
It had cut a small hole in the tip of Emil's pointer finger and Tino being the mom friend that he is, promised him a bandaid as soon as he had talked to Berwald.
"It's not important" Emil said. He was used to saying the words. It's not important. He had those three words tangled up against his tongue just for the sole reason of knowing that he would need those three words again.
And every time, he was right. The phrase was something he had gotten so used to, so used to it that it was almost the twin brother of 'I'm fine'.
But when Emil's foot left the last step on the stairs and when his body drooped and pulled itself back into his room, there was a bandaid.
A bandaid. And a note.
Emil instantly knew it wasn't from Tino. He could still hear the soothing and motherly voice just doors down, a rusty and deep voice answering. 'That's Berwald' Emil thought to himself as he let his thoughts wander a little. The sound of a door closing against rough wood could be heard as Emil pushed onto the knob and closed the door behind him. He pulled himself towards his bed, looking at the paper on the thick covers. The bandaid. He didn't want it, Emil wanted to prove that it didn't matter. Prove that it's not important, not important to him. That caused him to let it be. To let it be on the covers of the bed, alone. The paper was thin and the writing was shaky, Emil could see that as he picked it up.
He took a moment to feel the paper. To let his fingers run over the edges where it had been ripped, ripped wrongly because the hand that had pulled it probably was shaky, uneasy and nervous. It was from the notepad that Emil would keep on his desk, right next to his computer and the pen, well there was no pen. It was carefully written in pencil. Emil smiled as he ran his hand over the writing. He couldn't feel any writing, as if it didn't exist. The one who had written the note hadn't pressed down on the paper in the desperate manner Emil had expected. No, it was calm, barely there. A bit shaky, but the writer was also calm. 'How can someone be calm, but nervous and shaky?' Emil thought as he looked at the rough and thin paper with a confused look. With a look that did not understand.
Emil turned his head, as the chair to his desk moved. The wind couldn't move a chair, so whoever it was got nervous and panicked. Emil could tell, because he saw the chair, the wooden chair, fall to the floor just centimetres in front of him. He could even hear a slight hitch of breath, the ones someone would let out when they had been caught in the act.
Emil forced himself to look at the note again. It was shaky and some of the letters wasn't easy to tell. This person hadn't written for centuries it seemed.
'(M/N) (L/N), 1907 fire'
That's what the note said. The words was in cursive but the 'f' was sloppy and so was the '7'.
Emil could see a light from the corner of his eye, feel the presences of whoever it was that was there and as he turned his head he could see a computer screen with light He could see his computer screen with light, a screen that he had not turned on. Emil looked around. He looked around for a friendly smile or a soft breeze to hit his neck, because he was nervous, uneasy and at some point afraid. The combat boots on Emil's feet moved and it was like a force was driving him towards the seat. The seat that mysteriously had been picked back up and was now standing tall again, as if it had never been on the hard wooden floor in the first place. The seat was soft as he felt it against his bum, the blue fabric from the chair against his denim jeans.
The note had somehow followed and was now on the table, next to the mouse of the old school computer that Emil owned. The young boy could feel chills go down his back and a hotness against his neck. He was right there next to him. Right behind of him, was his comforter. He could feel a hand on his and the soft feeling of the used keyboard as his fingers started pressing down. Emil couldn't move, he wasn't moving. Not even his fingers, for he had no control, he didn't want control. Not right now.
Once the note had been recreated the shaky hand left his. Emil looked at the pixelated screen, a ton of articles ready to be read. They were right there, waiting for Emil to grab the mouse and press slowly down on the left side of the mouse. They were waiting to pop up, like something that was right there and the articles were ready to give Emil information. Information that he both wanted and needed.
But he didn't click. Not just yet. The Icelandic boy looked around the room, the mysterious yet comforting lilac eyes searching the room. "You're (M/N), right? You want me to read about you.." Emil stated to what seemed like thin air, the words clasping onto the wall as it was returned with nothing. "Of course he can't talk.. If he could I wouldn't have to research about him.." Was what the young boy mumbled to himself, somewhat upset with his own stupidity.
Emil could hear shuffling. He saw his notebook move, the pencil on his table being picked up. Words were written in the same cursive as before, it was old schooled. That was what crossed Emil's mind.
'I am able to talk. Silent whispers..'
The note told. The writing was still shaky and the letters were carefully placed on the lined paper. "I'm right here.." A voice told, a voice that Emil did not know, nor recognise. It was new and it was deep and it was coming from a soar throat that hadn't dared to speak in a long time. Emil could hear a slight cough and he could feel arms as light as air around his neck, and a soft chest behind the part of his back that was exposed from the chair. "A-And are you (M/N)..?" Emil whispered, his body frozen by the feeling of presence. Presence by someone he do not know by name, not just yet.
"I am" The voice told. A small chuckle could be heard. Emil looked around again as he no longer felt the feather arms around his slim neck, the soft skin untouched for now.
"Why can't I see you?" Emil asked, as he stood up, trying to grab the thin air with his hands but getting nothing. He felt disappointed, let down in a way he could not explain. Another shy chuckle was heard at the other end of the room, on his bed. Emil could see his covers going down, weight being pushed onto them. (M/N) was on the bed. He was and he was smiling at him. Emil couldn't see much more than a friendly face in what looked like a small cloudy, blue breath. "Can't you? Use your eyes then" (M/N)'s voice said, into the room.
Emil could see his lips move, the lips of a boy, the lips of a boy that was dead. Emil had slipped the mouse to an article just moments before he stood up from the soft chair and tried to grasp the friend he desperately needed. His eyes had caught the page and the page had explained (M/N), explained him somehow at least. The boy had been living alone, just moved away from his parents when it happened. And now he was a dead boy. There was a fire, one that was started by neighbour kids playing a ridiculous game, late at night. (M/N) was alone, he was reading a book calmly in his living room. A kid, maybe the age of 12 or so, threw a log inside the house. The log was on fire and so was (M/N)'s hair. The fire was hot and the newly legal boy didn't understand, but as the fire grabbed onto his coat and the inside of hi dress shirt he did not care anymore. He tried to damper down the fire, but more fire caught onto his sleeve and at the end he sat, alone in his lovely red chair, in the corner of his living room. And he sat there reading his book, as if he wasn't on fire. But he was, and he did not care. Because it did not matter. And at the end, the boy that minutes earlier had been at peace, was now burned to ashes and was being brushed away by the wind of the uneasy build house.
Emil's eyes were glossy when he looked back up. It was as if, he had relived the scenario in his mind, getting more detail than what was possible. More information than what he already knew and had read. A tear left his eye as he blinked, the salty drop of liquid running down his pale cheek, running over all the small freckles from the sun and down to his jaw, only to drop onto his floor when he stood up and rubbed his eyes.
And now he saw it clear. As clear as you could see a ghost at least. He was blue, the aura surrounding him, but he was now standing, standing tall, in front of Emil. He was smiling, his eyes were smiling too. But how could a boy, a dead boy, who was burned alive feel such happiness. He wanted to ask, but he knew he shouldn't. Emil pulled a smile, chuckling before giggling some more. Tears were running down his cheeks and he was trying to stop them by rubbing his eyes with the corner of his sweater. It didn't help, it didn't help that the male was smiling at him. It didn't help that the male was making his heart beat faster, making it get stuck in his own throat, it didn't help.
But it did help when he comforted him. When (M/N)'s soft arms would hold onto Emil's petite body, with an untold promise of never letting go. As if either of them wanted to let go. Tears ran down Emil's cheeks once again and if (M/N)'s shirt was stainable it would be filled with tears. The younger boy only stood tall enough to reach the crook of the older males shirt and it made it a perfect spot for (M/N) to place small kisses on Emil's head as he calmed him down. A thumb would caress the cheeks of the Icelander and the tears would go away, and they would stop.
Big hands would hold onto Emil's face and plump lips would peck his shark fin nose, and Emil would smile a genuine smile and laugh a genuine laugh, because he was at peace for once.
And he wouldn't feel cold, not once. He would feel warm, heated and strong too. The two would sit down on Emil's bed and the two would feel each other, they would hold each other close and they would smile. And they would laugh and when Emil had fallen asleep in the arms of a dead boy, (M/N) would move, for he knew that someone would be knocking soon. And the blue hue would be seen on the soft blue chair at the table, at the computer, and they would blend together for every person that was not Emil.
A knock would be heard and the head of a blond would be seen. The spiky hair was obviously Matthias', even (M/N) knew that. He had been in the house for a while after all.
Matthias had walked close to Emil's bed and was on his knees at the side, the blue hue right behind him. Matthias shook Emil's arm, the petite boy groaning as his eyes met Matthias'. Matthias was bout to tell something but (M/N) made him quiet. He then leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Ask him.. Ask him why his hands are cold" The whisper said and something in Matthias couldn't help but listen.
"E-Emil?" Matthias asked stuttering as he slowly brought his body up, standing tall. "Why are your hands so cold?" He asked as he leaned down and touched the hands of the Icelander. They were full, full of (M/N), because he had entangled his fingers into Emil's before whispering. Emil had given (M/N) a small smile, getting the recognition of the male behind his friend.
"I have a secret ghost boyfriend. And he's holding my hand. You may not see him, but I feel him, right here beside me" Emil told as he snuggled back into the bed where (M/N) was now laying. The warmth of Emil's living, breathing body, would spread onto the cold and air like body that belonged to (M/N) and even after Matthias left, (M/N) stayed, right there in the bed next to Emil.
And for the first time in what seemed to be forever.
Emil didn't sleep a dreamless night.
ALRIGHTY! 4.119 fucking words.
I finally finished this and I love it, so I hope you do as well, and I hope it's not too confusing for any of you.
It's probably not what the request said but I saw this picture earlier and I got really inspired. I feel that a lot of times Iceland gets misunderstood in a lot of ways, as people maybe just see him as a kind of weirdo teenager instead of the complex and struggling character he actually is.
This was requested by fabulousochibi and I really hope you like it.
Until next time;
Lots of Hugs, Alex <3