Chapter Text
The next time he saw Eirikur, it was a little over a year after and a whole different continent.
“If it was possible, I'd have our van shipped to Sweden as well.” Timo grunted as he held the steering wheel in his palms and kept his eyes on the road despite his annoyance. Berwald only hummed in response as he half-mindedly listened to his husband further complain about how they should've taken the train instead if he knew they would end up renting a less than well-loved Kia from 2001.
“It was that or a worse hotel, a sketchy Airbnb even.” Berwald pointed out so simply, to which Timo only muttered nothings as he couldn't rebuke the logic.
Peter could only drown out the voices of his parents with the miffy hum of the air conditioning. Erland was to his right, completely engrossed in his tablet (their shared tablet, mind you) and headphones tucked comfortably in his ears. It's been almost two years with the family, and a little more than one being officially adopted. He adapted quickly, but having been shuffled from foster home to legal guardian to foster home again countless times, it was a bit weird for him to finally have a home, for real. One in America too, which he'd never expect. Arthur must've gone back to England after the news, since his only business here was extended work turned into a disastrous custody battle with CPS.
They'd have this trip sooner if it weren't for him, but Timo and Berwald had to sort his legal paperwork-– adult stuff basically he doesn't know much about. Erland told him they always wanted to adopt him from the first day but his legal situation if he really was an American citizen made it complicated or something. Well now he's here despite their delayed vacation, and his heart soared as he could tell his parents don't regret the decision at all. His parents.
They crossed the Norwegian border a while ago, the past few days were spent in Berwald's hometown, Gothenburg. Pappa though, as stoic he may be on the outside, took delight in showing his sons the city he spent his childhood in, in a way he expressed himself anyways. He was less with words and more with showing, taking them to quaint restaurants the owners still recognize him fondly by, parks he used to play in during the summer, and countless other places filled with various recollections of his youth.
Peter asked him for any particular stories he had with Farbror Magnus, curious how a young Berwald was like with his brother, but his father's mouth only turned to a thin line. He chalked it up to his father always being taciturn, wondering which of the parks did he and his uncle hung in their dog days.
Norway doesn't look much different from Sweden, same architecture, atmosphere, weather, and words too if you only took a glance at the signage. But he still felt a slight churn of disappointment as he hoped to see more of Sweden through the window since he fell asleep for more than the four hours of their car ride.
As they entered the Oslo municipality, Timo took a few odd turns away from the core Metropolitan in the heart of the city until they reached a much quieter, but still urban part of the area. Less buildings in the way, and more superficial yet beautiful green landscapes took up the whole view of the last remaining minutes of their ride. The trees were lined up artificially symmetrical as they sped through the empty yet well pristined road.
“Ber, it would've been less embarrassing walking here than driving a twenty year old busted rented car to this place.” Timo said, his voice tinged with a bit of jealousy and sudden self awareness as he stopped the car beside what looked like some sort of toll booth before they could continue passage, its long hand halting the vehicle to go further on. A man soon appeared in the booth as he slid the window to the left, Timo soon lowered the rear window on his side.
“Pappa, Isi, are we gonna get arrested?” Peter asked with wide-eyed curiosity and maybe a little bit of fear. But he won't show it in his face, he looked over to Erland who was still completely oblivious to the world around him; completely focused on a screen, in which he only snorted at. Their family could be in the face of danger and his brother doesn't realize it! He opened his mouth to start scolding Erland for his negligence but was interrupted by his father shushing him as soon as Berwald started talking.
Timo seemed irritable, but didn't want to pester his son with his own mood. “No. This man here protects all the nice houses in the area. It's called a gated community.” He explained reassuringly to the boy, attempting to reach his hand to Peter like he always did in his comforting habits, but the cramped space of the car restricted any possible movement so he resigned to smiling at him through the rearview mirror. Though the tenseness of his shoulders tell otherwise, he was slightly disturbed.
Peter huffed. “Well that seems lame.”
Pappa didn't do as much talking as always, simply stating the name and address of their purpose with no further explanation. The nice man inside the booth looked at them with judgement as he raised one eyebrow up, and dialled a number next on his landline to which he saw Isi cringe from the jerk of his body.
It took a few awkward rings til the phone answered, the man hushing his words to whoever is on the line, tone dripping with suspicion. Timo cupped his palms over his face feigning embarrassment; Berwald could only look at him mildly concerned with the subtle twitch of his brow til they were given the go signal to continue as the toll hand raised up.
“Ya were never bothered about this stuff.” Berwald grumbled, for most people outside their family it would sound like muttered gibberish.
Timo sighed as he found himself pushing the brakes and glancing at Peter and Erland through the rearview mirror, the speed of the car slowing down. “Yeah but.. Can't help being self-conscious from time to time.” Isi always kept the sing-songy intonation at the end of his sentences despite what the creases on his face told.
The car soon went to a halt, and the first thing Peter did was snatch Erland's tablet out of his grubby fingers, which earned him a kick in the knee. “Ow, what was that for?” Instinctively, he bends over to protectively tend to his knee that barely even scraped. Peter ended up wandering his eyes towards the window further right of Erland in the moment to distract his hyperbolic pain, they parked in front of something that came out of Pappa's modern architecture magazines. The paint looked as if it was freshly dried and so were bushes trimmed too. He gazed over to the countless other homes in the neighbourhood, and all of them were no less than two stories high and looked like they held more than four bedrooms.
The house was real pretty to say as Peter hopped along the well-maintained stone path to the entrance, the gate seemingly intentionally left open. He could see his Pappa wandering his eyes around the home too as he unpacked the trunk and the backseat, different from their one floor bungalow with a white picket fence.
“Isi, can I pleasee ring the doorbell?” Peter asked as he craned his head to look at Timo, who seemed to have calmed his nerves down and nodded, taking his hand. Erland was still slugging behind, still holding the tablet but headphones now wrapping comfortably around his neck. Peter turned away and scoffed as he heard the little beep go off and as if summoned, Kristian opened the door like he was holding onto the knob anticipating their arrival.
“Hello.” Norwegian was much nicer to the ears recalling his encounter with Farbror Magnus a year ago, and also added his rapidly improving Swedish as he barely has the need to translate each language back-and-forth in his mind. Kristian greeted them, he looked a bit drowsy and mostly bored but Peter guessed he always looked that way anyways. Kind of like how Pappa looked scary at first when he first saw him. It'll change over time when he gets to know the man, they’re family afterall.
Timo greeted back and gave him a one handed hug, his hand still holding Peter. Peter, disinterested in what grown-up talk they're having, and having heard glimpses of it already (Where's Magnus? Company got him, delayed his flight by a few hours). And even if he wanted to join in like What company? They'd just disregard his presence anyways. He violently shook his wrist to free his hand from his father's grip, and eagerly entered the abode. Timo, too engrossed in his conversation, didn't notice Peter nor Erland already going in without him.
It was too clean, too spacious, like from a mockup IKEA interior design magazine he flipped out of boredom. The only thing really that gave the house a sense it was lived in was a laptop and a bunch of scattered papers on the dining table, with the strong aroma of coffee and a faint trace of something smoke that wasn't from burnt food or wood– but he couldn't point his finger on what exactly it was.
The decoration though, while a lot of it was framed oil paintings of picturesque landscapes, potted plants, untouched magazines straight out of generic interior design. Peter's attention drew to a quaint, but beloved bookshelf leaning against the partition between the open bar-kitchen and living room. On the level his height could reach, it was full of a bunch of jaded but well-read books and a bunch of knick-knacks. Music boxes, some of them already proved to be broken as the little dancer already had her body above torso pop out. Though most of Peter saw in antique shops where ballerinas, all of them donned a pair of fairy wings. As delicately as he could he stifled through the books and peered over to what their covers could be. From the spine alone, he could read most of them were fairytales and mythology books with a few being oddly about witchcraft.
None of them had a thin layer of dust on it like the deliberately sprawled magazines on the coffee table, as if it were read or well taken care of frequently.
In his trance, Erland propped to lie down the very lightly used sofa and grabbed the decorative pillow to rest under his neck to lay comfortably. Before Peter could point out Erland's misbehavings that you can't just lay there without permission, Timo noticing the slightest movement in the corner of his eye walked in horrified at the sight of his sons ruining the very expensive and nice furniture of their host.
“Peter! Don't go probing around Mr. Thomassen's bookshelf! He's a very smart man and those books might be important.” He shooed him away gently away from the bookshelf and soon hurried over to Erland, pulling his ear to wake him up from his false slumber. “And you! That's a very rude thing to sleep on someone's couch before even saying hi!” Erland hissed and protectively grabbed his ear in retaliation.
“I'm so sorry!” He turned to Kristian with the charming awkwardness Timo always held in embarrassment. “It's like you don't even teach them manners! I wonder how you do it with Eirik, he always seemed like a sweet and quiet kid.” Peter tried to pretend he couldn't see Erland attempting to withhold his snort.
There was a pregnant pause which almost worried Peter that he had actually angered the man by nosing in his bookshelf, but his expression still wavered boredom. “No it's fine.” Kristian said as if his mouth was dry, not a euphemism for anxiety but literally he talked as if he needed a glass of water. “Eiki never liked the fae and trolls no matter how many stories were read to him in bedtime, he's grounded on his feet more than I am.” There was a particular fondness to his voice that was well hidden in all the indifference he publicly displayed.
He's amused that I showed interest, is what Erland was saying through his uncomfortable stare at him. Erland says that Kristian, despite speaking Norwegian, had a weird ‘fancy’ way of saying things so he might need a translator. Peter understood him perfectly well.
Timo let out a sigh of relief, though it doesn't seem like he was worried of what Kristian thought of him, Peter was guessing he was relieved of his monetary worries instead.
“Also.” Kristian continued. “Magnus sleeps on that couch a lot too. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.”
They look like the kind to not only share a huge master bedroom, but have several unoccupied guest bedrooms ready to use too. So Peter couldn't bite his tongue back when he asked “Why?”
Kristian always had his expression unreadable to the point it always translated to apathy, so when he said “He annoys me when I try to sleep.” Peter was so, very confused when he saw Timo gape and sputter and abruptly end the conversation then and there. Saying he should go see how Eirikur is doing, it's been a year after all since you last saw your cousin, then hurriedly preoccupying himself with Erland's case of theatrics on the couch all while Kristian shrugs and walks up to the coffee maker to make a mug for Timo and Berwald.
Well, it wasn't that hard to spot Eirik’s room. He walked by a few doors and several framed family photos on his way throughout years, either looking to be professionally done shoots or images of Eirikur with several awards with a violin on his other hand. He stopped on his tracks with one door in particular having several stickers and taped up drawings stuck onto it. The paper was tinged and slightly faded yellow at the corners, with crude drawings of various marine life and birds.
Knocking as politely as he can, he softly called out. “Hello! It's me Peter, your cousin, we met last year!” No response, he hadn't talked much to the boy the last time his family visited as he and Erland were preoccupied with school most of the day. But with it being summer, he hoped to spend more time with the boy. “Well, you already know we're coming but I hope we can hang out and–” The door already clicked open before he could continue and he could hear silent footsteps of shuffling away right after.
When Peter pushed through the loose door, Eirikur sat neatly on the chair facing his study desk, back faced against him. The table laid empty and hands placed promptly on his lap as if he was doing nothing in particular but waiting. The room was as spacious as their whole kitchen, toy boxes clamped shut and stuffed toys on the shelves untouched, several more framed photos on the wall which Peter did not take time to linger. Despite the plethora he had on the shelves, only one stuffed animal laid on the bed at the corner, a mid-sized bird with a red bowtie. It looked like a toucan but with a short beak.
He quickly cleared his throat to start speaking, mentally preparing himself to engine a Swedish accent to make himself more understandable. With no doubt in his words, he greeted “Hello! I really like your room!”. He and Erland shared a bunk together and while they had the whole huge yard to themselves to play in as long as they don't trample Pappa's flowers, he indulged to imagine how fun it would be like if all three of them play in here with the privacy of this room instead of the garden where their senile neighbours occasionally yelled at their roughhousing disturbing the sparrows at their birdfeeder.
Well that's if Erland gets over his stupid one sided vendetta, but it's him that’s friends with Eirikur, not Erland. Well, becoming friends.
“Thank you.” Eirikur answered back in English, tone more indescribable than unreadable. While Eirikur looked and acted almost exactly like a mini copy and paste from Kristian, his voice was not as soft and disinterested. If anything Peter would say it almost sounded irritated but he's guessing that's more of his accent than what he feels. “Speak English.”
“Ah, sorry?” He responded back, a bit of disappointment feigned his tone. Maybe he hasn't improved at all in the speaking department.
“No.” Eirik was sufficient in his words. “I mean, I want to practice my English. I was hoping you can help.” He quickly added, he wasn't as dry sounding as his caretaker despite the shared looks. But it was definitely a contrast to Magnus’ cheery tone. Eirik turned his chair with a squeak. His gaze was hard to discern, not unreadable, but one that confused him. It was like he was waiting for something the way he pursed his lips expectedly, still not moving a muscle. His gaze held.. Anticipation, ah. He wants him to carry the conversation.
It was never a problem for Peter to be brought along by the whim of his own imagination that led his mouth astray, but the still so cold air of Norwegian summer and the once what he thought was a massive room just minutes before felt like it was enveloping him. Just earlier he had so much to say, but now the current moment, he has stage fright for an audience of one.
To ease his nerves, he forced himself to move and sit down on the bed just to relax his muscles that were freezing up, but too late reprimanded himself in his head because who sits on someone's bed without saying anything? A glance at Eirikur says he didn't really care at all and just continued staring at him oddly. Peter felt himself sink in the bed with a sigh escaping his chest, idly looking around the room for any topics of interest.
“How many toys have you got?” His eyes darted towards the untouched toy boxes. Taking the anticipated staring from the other party as a response for initiative, Peter cautiously bounded towards them and opened one of the boxes “Woah! You have all sorts of stuff in here. Are those Lego sets?!” His mouth could not follow up with sound as it went agape when he took out a large carton, spanning wider than his whole chest with a little struggle. “No way you have the Millennium Falcon!”
Breaking his silence, Eirikur faintly lit up in interest to the mention of the Lego set “Yeah. Magnus got it for me last Christmas.” He got up and joined him as Peter gawked at the giant box in his arms. It was kept pristine with no dents, but a layer of dust had accumulated and left residue on Peter's sleeves. “Me and Magnus are gonna build it together.. But he's been busy at work and I'm at school.”
“Well, couldn't you just do it when you get home from school and him from work? You can do it little by little! I never had a Lego set this huge but me, Pappa, and Erland played with legos even on school nights.” Peter exclaimed with disbelief that a Lego set with such a surpassing reputation and size was left growing mold in a dark container. “Don't tell Isi though.”
“I..” Eirikur trailed off, but quickly continued his sentence “I wish it was that simple. We don't see each other everyday.”
Peter cocked his head at the boy “What do you mean? Everyone sleeps and eat in a house. How could you not see each other?"
A heavy weight dropped in Peter's stomach when the realization hit that he could've possibly said something offensive. Averting gaze and sucking the inside of his cheek, Eirikur did not respond as his hands went stiff on his lap. Did he miss something? How could someone not see their own parents everyday, well of course there are different circumstances, he knows this from being raised by his own elder brother. But it is well established that Eirikur lived in this huge house with Kristian and Magnus, he could not wrap his head around any scenario how Eirikur somehow doesn't see his own father, or father sorts. Peter pondered the lack of response from the other boy.
Before Peter could spout out quick apologies, Eirikur opened his mouth “Magnus has an apartment in Copenhagen because his work is located there. And I only go home from school during holidays. And that's really the only time me and Magnus are together for longer periods.” His tone matter-of-factly as his eyes were mindlessly skimming the words on the back of the Millenium Falcon box, anything but to look at Peter.
Peter, with the absurdity of each sentence revealed growing more and more apparent, interjected “Go home from school? You live in your school?!”
Perhaps if Peter had a little more maturity and emotional intelligence he would be able to notice the other boy's discomfort and aversion written on his body language. But that only comes with age and experience as his young brain could only hyperfocus on one idea without thoughts engulfed in childlike curiosity, living in school? Is that even real? Peter waited in anticipation.
It didn't take long for an answer. “It’s a boarding school. Since Magnus has his work in Copenhagen and bror has to do his research work were he travels, it leaves them little time to be here.” Eirikur's head was now turned to the side, tone indifferent.
“So you get to live in school instead? That’s so cool you get to live with your friends and play all day!” Peter cleared his throat and corrected himself on his indulgent daydreams. “I mean it is school so you have to study and stuff– but after school you don't have to get home and do dumb homework. Okay you still have homework but you don't have to do the dishes, you get to play all day with your friends afterwards!”
Eirikur frowned “It is kind of lame though, you can’t bring toys in the boarding house.” signaling towards his collection of plushies. Peter had already noticed Eirkur's fondness for plushed animals the moment he entered his room. “It gets a bit lonely, and very boring. We all have the same bedsheets and you share a room with three other kids. And on weekends I have violin practice, not that much playing to do.” he let out a sigh.
Peter perked up “Well, if you couldn't do much playing at school. We should play now!” He sprung up not long before placing down the giant Lego set, he exclaimed. “With a room this huge, we can make the biggest pillowfort ever! And show it off to Erland. He's gonna be so jealous.” Raising his hands and flailing it around for a poor visual representation of its size. “Like you're home now, why waste it on moping?” Now he was sprinting around the room, as Eirkur remained still on one spot as stiff as before, the disposition of the two boys as clear as day.
Eirkur calmly stood up from the floor which anxiously stopped Peter in his tracks, fearing he got ahead of himself. But Eirikur could only look down on his feet, his face obscured, rendering his expression unreadable, uttering “I can get pillows from the guest bedroom.” with a leveled tone. Which in return Peter with a huge grin continued jumping around and started gathering the plushed animals to be the material of the fortress.