Chapter Text
Vegard came storming into the office the next morning, clutching his phone in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white. He brushed past the other employees, who quietly put their heads down and pretended not to notice what’s happening.
Bård was working at his computer and jumped when his door was slammed open.
“What is this?” Vegard growled, throwing his phone down on Bård’s desk.
“A…a phone…?”
“Don’t be cute. What the hell did you say about me?”
“I don’t —“
Vegard snatched the phone back and unlocked it. “Can you tell us a secret? That would make us very happy,” he read.
Bård rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on -“
“Well I’m not sure, but I’ve heard rumours that Vegard likes ‘a pinky in the stinky.’”
“Vegard, please, it was a joke —“
Vegard slammed the phone back down on the table. “How is it a joke? It’s disgusting and you have no right to say things like that about me!”
“No one’s going to believe it, and even if they did, who cares?”
“I CARE! I care! I don’t want people thinking like that about me!”
“No one is thinking like that about you. No one’s even going to remember it.”
“That’s not the point! Why would you even say something like that in the first place?”
Bård shrugged. “It’s funny. Why are you taking this so hard? It’s not even the worst thing that we’ve said or done. Why is this worse than talking about the grey hair around your nipples or when you ripped your pants in Kyrgizistan —“
“I had those scenes removed from the final version,” Vegard ground out. There was a buzzing in his limbs and it was hard to breathe. “Why don’t you understand, Bård?”
His hands were shaking and there was a crowd at the door, but he didn’t - couldn’t - care about them.
“You don’t think! You don’t think about anyone but yourself, you just say whatever you want and call it a joke. It’s not funny! You’re not funny! You’re a fucking piece of shit!”
“Vegard, stop.” Bård was using the quiet, firm voice and that might have worked on unruly interns or fans but it was the worst thing he could have done.
“No I won’t stop! I’m sick of this! I’m sick of you! You always saying this shit about me and I’d never say anything like that about you! You piece of shit!”
In one fluid motion Vegard swept everything off the desk, then threw it to one side. Bård backed up nervously as Vegard advanced toward him, deadly precision in his movements. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he registered the look of fear in his brother’s eyes, but it was quickly buried in the swirling rage. Good, came the dark thought from the back of his mind. Let him be scared. Serves him right.
“Vegard, calm down, you’re overreacting, it was just a joke —“
Sounds faded out to be replaced with a roaring, and suddenly he couldn’t see anymore, all he could see was red, red, and suddenly there was a stinging pain in his hand —
And then someone was grabbing him from behind and wrestling him down on the floor. Vegard blinked —
He was lying on his stomach on the office floor, with a heavy weight on his back and both arms twisted painfully behind him and held there with an iron grip. He could hear the quiet, shocked murmuring of the others, still gathered around the office door.
And — oh God —
Bård was standing in front of him, eyes wide, blood trickling from his nose. He couldn’t remember doing it but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.He’d hit him. He’d hit him.
He opened his mouth to say something but nothing would come out. The weight on his back was squeezing all the air out of his lungs, and what would he say anyway? What could he say to mitigate this?
Nothing. There was nothing he could say. It was over.
Calle appeared with a wet cloth and held it up to Bård’s face. The younger man had never taken his eyes off Vegard, blue eyes wide with shock and disgust.
“I think you should leave,” Calle said softly.
Don’t tell me what to do in my own office, Vegard thought weakly, but the words were gone before he could voice them. Of course he should leave. Everything was ruined. He’d hit Bård. He’d drawn blood. Everything was broken. He’d ruined everything.
“Calle —“ Bård began, but the older man shook his head.
“Let me up,” Vegard said softly, his voice so soft he could barely recognize it. Then - “Let me up!”
Calle nodded to the person holding him down - it could only be Magnus, and that made the shame burn even stronger - and the weight off his back lifted. Magnus held his hands together at the wrists, but Vegard shrugged out of his grasp.
He turned away from the sight of his brother, bleeding by his own hand. Bad idea. He was faced with everyone standing in the doorway, silent in shock, and no one knew quite where to look.
“Out of the way,” Vegard mumbled, pushing through the throng. He took he stairs down to the parking lot, and did not look back.
~~~
His eyes burned.
His eyes burned and his head hurt from lack of sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Bård again, standing there, blood dripping down his face.
He’d hit him. Over a stupid joke. One stupid sentence that didn’t matter and no one would remember anyway.
You hit him. The knowledge, the memory was relentless.
His phone had been dark ever since It had happened. No one had called or texted, not even when he didn’t show up to the office the next day, or the day after. He didn’t ever plan to go back.
He didn’t think he’d ever gone so long without some kind of message, and he was so tired of looking at his phone.
What do you expect? Why would they text you? They all hate you now. They all hope you’ll never come back. They’re better off without you.
Even Bård hadn’t contacted him, and he had the shame to be at least a little surprised about that. He’d never gone more than half a day without some sort of message from his brother, and it had been two-and-a-half days now.
Why are you surprised? He hates you.
There’s nothing you can do to make this up to him. There’s no apology good enough. You’ve ruined everything. It’s all over.
There were two bottles sitting on the coffee table in front of him. One, a dusty wine bottle, still festooned in bright red Hilsen fra Se og Hør ribbons. A bitter reminder of all he’d had and lost.
The second - a small bottle of painkillers he’d been prescribed after pinching a nerve in his back. He’d never taken any; ostensibly because he’d never needed one, but maybe because he’d always known it would come down to this.
You hit him. You threw away everything. You’re the older one. You’re the one who’s supposed to be able to let things go. You’ve ruined everything. When they all find out what you’ve done - Mama, Papa, Bjarte - they’ll all hate you too. They probably already do. They won’t be sad. They won’t care. No one will. No one does.
You ruin everything you touch. You hurt everyone around you. This is for the best.
With shaking hands he uncorked the wine bottle and took a long swig. The alcohol burned all the way down his throat and into his stomach.
Take another one. You’re finally doing something right.
~~~
Bård was restless.
It was past one in the morning, but he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t hungry, didn’t want to work, and nothing on the TV could hold his attention. He was just…restless.
For what had to be the thousandth time since Vegard had run out of the office, he checked his phone. Still nothing. He’d been expecting it, but every time he saw the lack of ‘new message’ notifications, his heart sank. He’d never gone so long without texting his brother, and he knew he was being cowardly by waiting for him to text first.
It’s just that…he didn’t know what to say. He never did. Vegard was always the one who had the right words to smooth everything over. Bård was just the shitty little brother who always did everything wrong. Why had he said that line, anyway? He really had thought it was just funny at the time, but of course he should have remembered that Vegard doesn’t like jokes like that, and never had. And then Bård had gone and poked the hornet’s nest with an ill thought-out joke.
Something is wrong.Vegard had gotten angry at the office before; they were all used to his little outbursts and tantrums by now. But he’d never gone into…hiding…before. It wasn’t like him. Something is wrong.
For a little while longer Bård tried to tell himself that he was being stupid, and he couldn’t go charging over to his brother’s house in the middle of the night just based on a gut feeling. But as another hour passed and there was still no message, he couldn’t contain his fear anymore.
He kept telling himself he was being stupid on the short drive over, and as he dug his spare key out of his pocket, but it was too late, he didn’t believe himself anymore. And as he pushed open the door, he was faced with the nauseating, split-second realization of I was right.
“Vegard!” The scream was out of him before he could even process the sight, and he was on his knees beside the couch, shaking his brother’s shoulders. There was no response, but his skin was warm, and he was breathing. Bård clenched his fists, fought to control the bile that rose up in his throat, and forced himself to calm down and look around.
There were two bottles on the table. The wine bottle was open and empty. Hands shaking, he opened the bottle of painkillers and counted them.
All there. None missing. He thought he might faint with relief.
“Wake up,” he said, shaking Vegard’s shoulder again. “Wake the fuck up!”
Still there was no response. The sick fear that had abated at finding the pill bottle unopened began to creep back. It’s an entire bottle of wine and he’s not used to drinking…
“Vegard, please…” His voice cracked.
Very slowly, Vegard blinked open his eyes.
“Bård.”
“What the hell were you doing?!”
He blinked again, then let his eyes shut. “I don’t know.”
Why? Bård almost asked, but the word caught in his throat. Asking that would acknowledge it. Asking that would make it too real.
“Why are you here?” Vegard asked without opening his eyes.
“To stop you from being a goddam idiot! Seriously, Vegard, what the hell?” His voice cracked again on the last word and he looked away, blinking furiously. He dashed away one tear from the corner of his eye, and then another, until he couldn’t keep up with them, and all he could think about was what if I’d gotten here a little later?
And with that thought, he threw his arms around his brother’s chest and gave in to the tears building up behind his eyes.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Not like this.”
After a few seconds, he became aware of Vegard’s hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy and comforting. He looked up. Vegard was looking at him, an expression of pure confusion in his eyes.
“What?” Bård asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why are you sad?” he whispered. “You must hate me.”
“I don’t fucking hate you!” Bård almost shouted, then lowered his volume as Vegard winced. “I don’t hate you! Is that what you think?”
“You must, though…you and everyone else at the office. Calle and Magnus…”
“Everyone has been asking for you. Asking if you’re all right.”
“I don’t know why they’d ever want me to come back.”
“Because…” Bård started, then shook his head. Trying to reason with Vegard when he was drunk and like this was like trying to reason with a two year old. “They just do, okay? Everyone wants you back.”
“Why, though? You have to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” Bård laid his head down on his chest again. “I don’t hate you.”
“But I hit you!”
Bård raised his head again. “Yes, you did. And that will never happen again. Understand?”
Vegard nodded.
“But,” Bård continued, “I was shitty to you too, with that joke. No pun intended. So…I owe you an apology too. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“I know.” God, how could I not? “So…are we good? Are you…okay now?”
Vegard nodded again, eyes closing.
No you’re not, Bård thought, but he was at a loss of what to do. This was so big, so far beyond his scope of experience that he didn’t even know where to start. So he shifted his weight until he was lying on top of Vegard and wrapped his arms around him, as though his physical weight could keep him here. Maybe, just for now, that would be enough.