Work Text:
As soon as Håvard’s lunch break started, he practically ran towards the mess hall. Once Håvard reached the doorway, his eyes started scanning the large room. Håvard’s attention flickered from person to person, before finally landing on the golden-haired Frenchman.
Even though the relationship between Olivier and Håvard was fairly new, it made Håvard feel like he was truly loved, not just a shell for people to admire.
As Håvard shook off the warm fuzzy feeling that Olivier gave him, he trod towards the coffee machine, grabbing his third coffee of the day. Once satisfied with the rich aroma coming from the plain white mug, Håvard moved towards the bakery section, grabbing something quick and moving towards the table
By the time Håvard was done collecting his tray, he noticed that Olivier was no longer alone, but was accompanied by Gillies. In order to not interrupt the conversation between the two Frenchman, Håvard sat himself down on the empty table behind Olivier. Even though Håvard didn’t mean to eavesdrop, his ears perked up once he heard his name.
“Olivier, it is really great that he makes you happy. Like you rarely lock yourself up anymore, Håvard is good for you.” Gillies calmly told the younger Frenchman.
That comment alone made Håvard feel the warm fuzzy feeling of love. However, that feeling quickly left his body once he heard the words leave Gillies’ mouth.
“So have you told him about Alexis & Claire? You know the whole situation. Håvard does deserve to know you have a son.” Gillies added in a solemn tone.
Håvard's brain was running at 100 miles per hour. Every dark thought crowded the confused man. Olivier has a son? A family? Am I breaking his family apart? Of course you do Håvard, you always break up families. Look at your own family. Be honest with yourself, Olivier doesn’t feel the same way, if he did, he would have told you. The spiral of self-doubt consumed the Norwegian within seconds.
Håvard skittishly moved away from the table as quietly as he could at that moment. The tears brimming in the Norwegian eyes, the suffocating feeling crawling into Håvard’s lungs. He needed to be out of the room. Out of Olivier’s presence. As the shaking hands removed the items on the tray, the barely touched sandwich was thrown away and the coffee down the drain. With lightning speed, all traces of Håvard in the mess hall were gone.
With Håvard’s head hanging down, he rushed back to his dorm. He was holding back the tears, barely able to keep his brave face intact. Never has Håvard been as thankful for the empty halls of base as he has right now.
As soon as Håvard stepped foot into his room, the flood of emotions ruptured. Anger. Hurt. Heartbreak. Back slumped against the door, he let the tears run down his face. The mask that Håvard had tried so hard to protect was finally broken. The hero is nothing but a homewrecker. He is not a symbol of healing but a symbol of destruction.
As lunch slowly came to a close, the realisation of going to work again hit Håvard like a ton of bricks. How could he face Olivier, let alone work with him?
A knock broke the trance of self-deprecation. In that moment Håvard scrambled to his feet, already collecting his composure before any sort of cue to the person behind the door. The knock once again sounded, however this time a voice accompanied it soon after.
“Hei Haugland. Killhouse in 10” The demanding tone from the Dane was enough to bring Håvard to his senses.
A hum of acknowledgement from Håvard was all the confirmation Nøkk needed. As the footsteps got quieter with every passing moment, Håvard moved towards the mirror. His once lively eyes looked glassy and bloodshot, his hair dishevelled and his face harbouring tear stains.
Come on Håvard. Get yourself together, you have 8 minutes to look like your normal self. You just have to avoid Olivier for the rest of your time with the program. His grip tightened on the sink the more he thought about a certain Frenchman.
Once Håvard deemed himself presentable within his short time frame, he beelined towards the kill house. A sigh of relief escaped him. Olivier was not a part of his rotation. As Håvard’s hand gripped the replica AK-12, every emotion neatly compiled itself to the back of his mind.
Before Håvard even knew it, training was over. As each operator’s feet dragged along the concrete floor, slowly moving away from the plywood construct, there was a sudden pull dragging Håvard back into the killhouse. There stood Nøkk looking Håvard dead in the eye, knuckles turning white from her hold on his forearm.
“Haugland. What the fuck is going on? I know you left the commandos for Nighthaven but I know for a fact, you are better than what you showed today. You were sloppy. No better than a fucking dodo, since when did you go to the American teaching of shoot first, ask questions later. If I remember correctly, the Norwegian Army teaches the opposite.” The stern disapproving tone and paired with the look from the Dane, it causes shivers down Håvard’s spine.
However, the words from Nøkk cause the repressed emotions to resurface. The feeling of anger and self-deprecation flooded Håvard once again.
“Faen ta deg Nøkk.” Pulling violently away from the Dane. Storming towards the exit leaving the perplexed Nøkk behind in the makeshift walls of the kill house.
Before Håvard knew it, he was hunched over the coffee machine. Lost in his own thoughts, watching the drip by drip of the dark liquid. A voice called out to Håvard, a voice he didn’t want to hear for a while.
“Håvard. I didn’t see you at lunch. Are you okay?” The look of concern from Olivier, made Håvard melt, enough for him to share his darkest secrets, however, he wasn’t going to allow himself to fall deeper.
“Yeah, I am. Just busy. Will have to postpone our dinner, I have Nighthaven duties.” The hostile tone from the Norwegian threw Olivier off. The hurt in Olivier’s eyes went unnoticed by the Norwegian, as he kept staring at the liquid in front of him.
The silence between the two was deafening. Olivier attempted to formulate some sort of response, failing to break the silence, and Håvard averted his gaze from the Frenchman leading to the awkward exchange between the two. It was like everything they progressed to reverted.
Once the beep sounded from the coffee machine, Håvard moved in a rush. Pushing past Olivier, still avoiding any form of eye contact, he stammered a quick goodbye to Olivier and moved to his quarters with the steaming cup of coffee.
As Olivier watched the older man move around the corner, confusion arose about the recent change in demeanour between Håvard and him. We were fine this morning. Maybe he is just stressed out. He will be back to himself soon.
However, Håvard became more distant from Olivier with every passing day. If Olivier sat next to Håvard, the latter would quickly say goodbye and leave Olivier behind. Some days Håvard wouldn’t even show up to the cafeteria, just to avoid the pain that his brain conjured. The drive for work consumed him. Håvard put everything into the image of being the hero, leaving his own emotions to fall on deaf ears.
Within each passing day, Olivier watched Håvard get weaker and weaker, feeling like he failed the Norwegian. The opaque facade which Håvard prided himself on was see-through to Olivier. Olivier knew that something was consuming the other, but he didn’t know how to repay Håvard the same courtesy.
Olivier decided to take action, if Håvard was going to avoid him, Olivier was going to have to make Håvard face him. Grabbing an extra tray at dinner, he moved carefully towards Håvard’s quarters. Once Olivier stood in front of the wooden door, his hand was about to knock, however, the Frenchman decided not to. With the philosophy that it is better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission, the Frenchmen slipped into Håvard’s room.
The Norwegian didn’t even bother looking away from his work, as he let the presence wander around the room. As Olivier put the tray down in front of Håvard, the Norwegian’s eyes slowly trailed up to meet Olivier’s eyes.
“Thank you. You can leave now.” The meek response to Olivier's actions was not enough to budge the Frenchman from getting answers. Instead, Olivier grabbed a chair and moved it to the door, setting himself down in front of the door, he was gonna make sure Håvard spoke to him.
“Come on mon nounours, you can’t keep avoiding me.” The soft tone from Olivier, caused Håvard’s shell to crack a slight bit, but not enough to stop the charade.
“I don’t know what you mean Olivier. I have been so busy with work. I really appreciate the food delivery, but I have to get this done, so could you please leave.” Håvard replied with his last bit of energy.
“Bullshit Håvard. You have been avoiding me, you are doing it now. Don’t even try to deny it. Stop pushing me away, let me in. I am not leaving until you give me a proper explanation.” The soft tone from just prior turned to stern demands.
Håvard wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep and food or the words from the man across from him, but it seemed his charade fell quickly. The floodgates opened, and Håvard no longer had control of the self he wanted people to see.
“You want an explanation, here you go. I think we should stop seeing each other. I can’t be the reason why another family falls apart. I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to Alexis, or Claire. So could you please leave?” Håvard barely bellowed out the words, tears trailing down his face, his breath practically turning into rapid fire.
Realisation hit Olivier, now moving towards Håvard. Håvard’s panic-stricken state consumed all his senses, leaving him oblivious to the actions of the Frenchman, now in front of him. Before Håvard knew it Olivier had enveloped him in warmth and comfort, slowly settling the panic just formulated.
“Hey. It is okay. You have done nothing wrong, mon nounours. I will explain everything once you calm down and eat something.” The Frenchman’s gaze filled with concern and compassion. All the Norwegian could do was nod in confirmation, not once losing his grip on Olivier.
The two enjoyed their meal in comfortable silence. During this time, Olivier did not once stop the clockwise motion against Håvard’s back, his attempt to show that he wasn’t going to leave. Once Håvard finished the tray in front of him, his ocean blue eyes reached Olivier’s gaze, a sign for Olivier to uphold his end of the bargain.
“Yes, I do have a son. His name is Alexis. Claire is his mother. When we were teenagers, I got her pregnant. My actions after that moment were filled with rage and despair, I said things that put conflict between Claire and I, thus also putting tension between Alexis and me. Håvard, you haven’t ruined anything, that was all me at the age of 17.” Olivier’s features were filled with regret and past wounds.
Håvard tried to suppress the little spark of hope that grew within him. However, the little bit of hope was crushed by the feeling of guilt, the guilt of letting Olivier be alone, without an explanation.
“The reason why I didn’t tell you sooner is because…I didn’t want you to think deep down I am the same party boy, that would leave you on the corner to fend for yourself. I want to resolve my past, however, I don’t want my past to ruin the present.” The Frenchman continued.
Before Olivier knew it, he felt arms wrap around him. The comforting energy engulfed his fibre of Olivier’s body. Soon the Frenchman melted into the embrace, returning the affection.
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Elskede. I really am sorry for avoiding you, it is just that…” Håvard mumbled into Olivier’s shoulder.
Olivier glanced down at the man nuzzling his neck, waiting to see if Håvard would continue, however, the word never seemed to appear. Even though the words never came, there was a silent understanding between the two of them. The understanding that they can overcome their past scars, together.
“It is okay. We are gonna be okay.” Olivier reassured Håvard, combing his fingers through the platinum blonde locks.
The two continued to stay in this position of comfort for what seemed like hours. Within that time, the world around them seemed to dissipate, the loneliness that they both felt during this past week drifted to the abyss.