Chapter Text
Matthias skipped school the next day.
Actually, his mother saw his condition when he finally arrived home (at 4:30 in the morning) and called in saying he was sick, sitting him down at the kitchen table and asking him what was wrong.
He told her the whole story, and she asked about Emil.
Emil.
He’d completely forgotten about him.
Immediately Matthias was out of his seat and sprinting, stumbling up the steps and slamming his fist on the Bondevik house’s door.
(There were no cars in the driveway. There hadn’t been all night.)
Emil flung the door open, face twisted with concerned fury, and, grabbing Matthias’ shoulders with a force Matthias didn’t know he had, shook him violently. “Where is he? Where the hell is my brother?!”
“He got hit by a car yesterday,” he gasped out. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you until… right now.”
“Where is he,” Emil said again.
“Hospital, probably,” Matthias whispered. “He– I– I’m so sorry.”
Emil simply dragged him out and asked Matthias’ mother (who was watching them from the Kohler porch) to drive them to the hospital.
—
“Lukas Bondevik,” Matthias told the receptionist. “I’m Matthias Kohler, and this is his brother Emil. We’re here to see him.”
“Bondevik, huh?” the receptionist asked.
“Mhm.” Matthias fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “He, uh, got admitted yesterday, I think. He got hit by a car.”
A nurse came out of a room, passing the desk. The receptionist stopped him, telling the nurse to lead them to Lukas Bondevik’s room.
Lukas’ room was sterile and white, bright sunlight streaming in through the window. The teenager stared blankly out the window, and his pale arms rested atop his blanket-covered lap.
His arms. Matthias found himself entranced by the tattoos of saxifrage and daisies on Lukas’ skin, weaving around each other and blooming brightly. Lukas’ eyes snapped to Matthias and Emil, who took their seats on either side of his bed.
“I’m fine, lillebror,” he said in response to Emil’s quick, worried questions. Matthias’ eyes were trained on his wrists, he noticed, but when he moved to hide them the other took them gently.
“Oh my god,” he said in a voice softer and gentler than Lukas had ever heard from him before. “It’s– it’s you, I finally found you, it’s been weeks and I–”
“What are you talking about,” Emil said, regarding Matthias with suspicion in his eyes.
Matthias only took off his armbands, revealing the matching pattern; Pyramidal saxifrage and daisies.
“Oh, yeah, that,” Emil muttered, but Matthias ignored it in favour of wrapping Lukas into a gentle hug.
(And Lukas melted under his touch, tears bubbling up in his eyes as his and Matthias’ souls were reunited. He weakly brought his hands up to hug him back, and soon the two of them were crying in each others’ arms.)
“I’m sorry,” Lukas cried. “I’m sorry Ive been such a dick to you all this time.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Matthias said. “You didn’t know.”
(In their hearts, they knew he did.)
(The story of how they found out about each other would be one they’d tell their nieces and nephews for the rest of their lives. Emil and Berwald and Timo would always point out how they already knew. Matthias and Lukas would always heave out the part where Lukas’ mother was eventually arrested for neglect, and the Bondevik brothers went to live with the Kohlers. They’d leave out the part where Lukas would spend hours upon hours burying over his lost grades and ever-absent parents while Matthias tried in vain to calm him. They’d leave out the first time Matthias saw one of Lukas’ drawings and showered him in praise and affection, or the way Matthias was Lukas’ partner in his modified gym classes while his broken leg healed, or they way Lukas would help Matthias with his math homework. What they didn’t leave out was…)
—
Lukas stood in front of his near-finished painting, making little touch-ups here and there. Mr. Vargas watched him from his desk, a look of surprise on his face both because Lukas had actually finished one of his projects and because he’d done it so quickly. That night was Fine Arts Night at the school, and Lukas had requested for his and Matthias’ paintings to be placed next to each other.
“It’s the way they’re painted,” he’d reasoned when Mr. Vargas had asked about it. “They match.”
And so, at the World Academy’s Fine Arts Night, the two portraits by Matthias Kohler and Lukas Bondevik were placed side by side.
Lukas practically dragged Matthias through the room that night, glancing at their (still-covered) paintings every so often, waiting eagerly for the moment Mr. Vargas would pull the sheet off of them and reveal them to the world. When the teacher finally stepped up on the stage, the reaction was instant; Lukas elbowed Matthias to get his attention, and Berwald, Timo, and Emil gathered quietly behind them. Matthias’ sky-blue eyes turned to the stage as Mr. Vargas took the microphone.
“Every year,” he said, “I take one or two paintings or sculptures to represent the theme of that year’s Fine Arts Night. I did that again this year, of course. My students had an assignment about a month and a half ago; to paint the person next to them with their soulmate flower. One of them only started his painting very recently–” Matthias looked in surprise down at Lukas, “But already it’s finished and ready to present. The work of the others you can see behind you; but now I’d like to introduce the soulmate flower paintings by Matthias Kohler and Lukas Bondevik!” And he lifted the sheet.
The paintings were magnificent. The first (the one Matthias had painted) bore an image of Lukas in a deep violet sailor’s uniform surrounded by pyramidal saxifrage, laying on his side in the flowers. The other, however, was painted to match– Matthias laid on his side , facing Lukas, wearing a red shirt with a black coat and tie and surrounded by white-petaled daisies (creating a stunning contrast). There were even a few in his spiked hair, as there always were. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and when Lukas turned to Matthias he saw a wide smile on his face and happy tears in his eyes.
“You– it’s beautiful,” Matthias said in awe, turning his wet gaze to Lukas. “I told you that you were a good artist, didn’t I?” and his eyes were back on the paintings. “Pyramidal saxifrage and daisies. I like it.”
“If I had a chance to be the best,” Lukas replied, “I wouldn’t take it.”
“Why?” Matthias asked, confused at the change of subject.
Lukas smirked, plucking the daisy from Matthias’ hair and slipping it into his own, tucking the stem behind his ear. “Daisies are worth far more than a crown of gold.”
(Daisies were worth far more to Lukas, now, than perfect grades and being the best.)
(Matthias’ awkward blushy reaction to Lukas’ statement would be something his brother would tease him about for the rest of his life.)