Chapter Text
How long has it been since he's properly confided in someone? Emil can’t remember. He could sit and wrack his brains, all day long, and still would not be able to reach a conclusive answer. Figures.
His memories were all jumbled. Emil could not even remember what day it was sometimes (though that was only on truly bad days). There are very few things that he can actually recall. He sees agitated violet eyes, hears a voice screaming “lillebror” (norwegian for ‘little brother’ - a google search once told him) repeatedly, and feels phantom hands holding him tight. Not in a suffocating manner. They kept him safe.
He has been alone for as long as he can remember, though. His parents were never around and his siblings bothered him sparingly. Emil's never felt secure. He is flighty (many girlfriends and boyfriends, of some distant past, have told him this and, on his good days, Leon will hold his hand and whisper it lovingly), avoidant (Emil loves to run), and cold. His hands are always frozen and his facial expressions resemble the Arctic.
Leon once jokingly told him that he feels Emil is the epitome of ice itself. He laughed, even though it wasn’t all that hilarious. He just knew he'd do anything to see Leon's warm brown eyes crinkle.
He loves Leon. He thinks he loved the person with the violet eyes too, in a different way.
It’s just a regular day for Emil Steilsson. Until it isn’t.
In his defence, he thought the day was going just fine. Leon visited him in the morning and held his hands tight like how he always does. Emil even managed to make him laugh again. He doesn’t mind being considered ice, if he can somehow contribute to Leon's warmth.
Then the nice nurse - “call me Tino!” - came to check on him, his vitals, and his head (concussions weren’t to be taken lightly). They tried writing together again and, this time, he managed to write his name coherently. It counts as immense progress. Nurse Tino said so.
Doctor Kohler came to check on him, a few hours after lunch. The usually bright and smiling man seemed a little sombre so Emil held his hand. When questioned, he just told the truth. “I feel better when Leon holds my hands. Maybe you will feel a little better too.”
He received a soft smile for that.
Emil decided he wanted to see the sunset. The kind Belgian nurse who took over Tino's shift apologetically told him he could not leave his hospital room just yet. To make up for it, she positioned him by the window in a chair. “It’s not much but you'll be able to see some of it!” She winked, like they were sharing a big secret. Emil humoured her by winking back and thanked her profusely.
He was just patiently waiting for the sun to set when everything went wrong. Muffled, raised, voices were pounding against his closed hospital window. There was nothing wrong with opening the window but he'd never personally done it. Emil decided it was best to not interfere and kept the window stubbornly closed.
His resolve slowly diminished as the voices grew louder and familiar. Was that Doctor Kohler? Emil didn’t know he was capable of yelling.
“Fuck it,” He deadpanned. The latch fought him for a tense thirty seconds before the window finally opened and a gust of cool, winter, air stung him. “Fuck!” Emil swore loudly. The voices immediately stopped. He could hear rapid footsteps from outside. His room was situated on the second floor so he wasn’t entirely anxious about confrontation but the prospect was daunting.
Emil decided to brave it and look down. Violet eyes bore into him. His shock almost sent him tumbling out of his chair. He could vaguely register Doctor Kohler appearing behind the mystery man.
“Lillebror!” The man yelled. Emil felt salt sting his tongue. These were tears, right? Leon told him all about the tears he'd shed when he'd heard that Emil had survived the horrible incident.
Did this man survive too? How did he know him?
He was so caught up in his musings that he did not notice the man disappearing from view. Doctor Kohler immediately gave chase, screaming about “not being ready” and “exercise caution please” but that was all background noise.
Warm hands clasped his shoulders. The man with the violet eyes was crying. Emil was crying too. Doctor Kohler was crying. Why are they all crying? He's so confused. Why is everyone so upset?
He's mistaken. The violet eyes aren’t agitated. They are relieved.
“Lillebror.” The man whispers.
“Don't call me that, Lukas,” Emil snaps like it’s muscle memory.
Violet eyes widen. Phantom hands grip him tight. Lukas is very much real. He wasn’t a figment of Emil's imagination. He's right here with him.
For the first time in his life, Emil feels secure.