Work Text:
It was late summer, you had just moved to your grandparents' house to help them. The town's community was wonderfully welcoming, but even you needed a moment of respite. You chose to walk by the lake that day.
Lars sat on a gentle slope leading to the water. From afar, he heard noise. A girl in a yellow dress and knee-high rubbers approached, Walkman headphones on her ears. Her high, sometimes squeaky voice carried far. It seemed she was too engrossed in music and gazing at the sky to notice where she was going. Straight into the reeds where shore abruptly ended, straight into water. Lars stood up, heading toward the girl, seeing her eyes being closed. He shouted, trying to get her attention. Too late.
One step, and you were already waist-deep in the water, quickly losing balance. Swiftly, you emerged onto the shore, glancing at the man standing nearby, nervously smoothing his dirty blond hair. His slightly reddened lips under the mustache puffed as if he had been holding his breath until now.
"Oi! Why didn't you shout earlier?" your voice, though loud, broke into suppressed laughter.
Seeing your dress covered in duckweed, you quickly reached for your belt. Attached to it, the Walkman was full of water.
"Damn..."
You took off your rubbers and poured out the water.
“Well, at least I won’t have to shower today…” you joked and with the boots under your arm, you extended your hand to the man who nervously fidgeted, perhaps deciding whether to leave the lunatic who fell into the lake of her own accord. You wouldn't blame him for that. You introduced yourself, and he, with some reservation, extended his hand, hidden under a long sleeve, exchanging a handshake with fabric between your skins.
"Lars."
He pointed in some unspecified direction and finally spoke.
"My brother's house is nearby, you can ask for a towel. Karin will surely lend you something to wear."
For a moment, you hesitate. You should go back home, but now, soaked to the bone in dripping clothes, it feels so far away. And suddenly, it stopped being warm and sunny.
In the house Lars brought you to, his sister-in-law Karin and an enthusiastic one-year-old awaited. The hostess seemed deeply shocked upon seeing her brother-in-law with you at the doorstep. She let you in quickly and wordlessly rushed for a towel. Lars started talking to the child, introducing you both. He looked adorable with the little one in his arms, the kid tracing the outline of his mustache with a tiny finger. Before Karin could return, calling something from the depths of the house, Lars putted down his nephew and took the player from your hands, promising to fix it and return it to you when he was in town and managed to stop by the café where you started working. He vanished before his sister-in-law returned.
Lars didn't bring back your Walkman a week later, but he came to apologize for not having fixed it yet. Weeks passed this way. The man would drop by once a week, and you used his visits as an opportunity to take a break and talk with him. You heard various things about him from your colleagues. Everyone spoke warmly of him, even if some comments expressed surprise at his aversion to touch or any close bond with another person. Then there was that one story about Bianca, a doll-sized human-like figure, Lars's ex-girlfriend. At first, you thought they were making it up, trying to play a joke on you. But one day, as you were closing the café and wiping down the table under a wall covered in various photos, you noticed one that hadn't caught your attention before. A woman in a wheelchair, not entirely resembling a real woman. Bianca...
You pondered that story for a while. You observed that Lars was talking to you in a more open manner, sharing details about work, his nephew, and Margo's new boyfriend. About Karin's ideas for renovating their house. When he wanted to share, Lars conveyed enthusiasm. Any thought about Bianca, which had been lingering in your mind for the past few days, quickly gave way to the growing affection for this lovely, usually quiet man.
Lars waited in the same place where you first encountered him…
Although winter was still a bit away, both of you were dressed in several layers. Well, Lars might have had three more of them, you weren’t sure. In his hands, hidden in gloves, he held your Walkman. In your pocket, there was a cassette with your favorite compilation of old songs.
Of course, Lars would never admit that your device had been fixed long ago. He buried himself in excuses more and more, noticing how easy it was for him to talk to you. And even though you didn't know him well, after the first time your arms brushed and he admitted he wasn't a fan of physical contact, you respected that without a hint of surprise. And even when, under the influence of emotions, your hand shot toward him, it quickly returned to your side. He liked you for that even more. You weren’t throwing yourself at him.
But lately, Lars had been wondering if maybe it would be different with you. Perhaps your touch wouldn't burn him? After nearly two weeks of pondering, he decided to test it. However, he needed special conditions for that. The only conceivable reason in his imagination for you to meet without anyone around was your Walkman.
"Hey!" Your smile immediately felt like a beacon that warmed his face.
"Hi" he knew his voice was probably too quiet, but he still wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. "Would you like to go somewhere?" he asked, simultaneously handing you a single flower, which he pulled out of the bouquet intended for the hospital. Of course, with Mrs. Gruner's permission.
"Oh, thank you. Sure, Lars," you smiled, putting your nose into the petals. You tucked the player into your coat pocket.
You tried to keep a bit of distance from Lars, but every now and then, he took a step closer to you, eventually walking just a few inches away.
After some time, you found yourselves in the woods, near a small treehouse. Or rather, what was left of it. A platform around a tree, a hanging rope on one side, and a few ladder steps nailed to the trunk. Lars smiled seeing your enthusiasm, even if you didn't know that this house used to look much better.
"Can I?" you asked, reaching for the first step. Lars nodded, biting his lip. It was about to happen. He would test his theory on you.
At the top, he took off his jacket and laid it down so you could sit comfortably, but you grabbed it and pushed it back into his hands.
"You'll freeze!"
Lars just smiled and pointed to his sweater and the collar sticking out from underneath.
"It's not that cold, and besides, I've got layers, remember?"
You looked at him, contemplating his words for a moment, and nodded, watching as he spread the jacket on the planks. You lay on your back, legs resting on the trunk, shaking off mud and snow from your shoes before you did it. Lars smiled and did the same, your boots touching. He moved close enough that he almost touched your shoulder. You took the Walkman from your pocket, inserted the cassette, and rewound it to the first song. You placed the headphones on your shoulders and set the volume as loud as it could go, pressing "PLAY."
L is for the way you look at me,
O is for the only one I see,
V is very, very extraordinary,
E is even more than anyone that you adore...
You knew your voice wasn't suitable for singing, but nothing could stop you from harmonizing with your grandparents' favorite song. After a while, you felt that your left foot wasn't hitting the heavy boot of Lars. You opened your eyes. The headphones barely clung to your shoulder, and Lars now sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. You stopped the song and sat down. At the last moment, your hand froze over his shoulder as he wiped his eye.
"Lars, what happened?"
"N-nothing. It's just... that was our song, mine and Bianca's," Lars took a deep breath and exhaled, looking up. Over a year had passed, yet he still felt the sorrow. Quickly, you stowed the player away, uncertain if you should leave him alone. Especially since all you could think about now was how much you wanted to hug him.
"Sorry, I didn't know..." you started, slowly pulling away to stand or maybe sit.
Lars grabbed your hand before your mind chose any option. Looking into his blue, sad eyes, still slightly moist, you stopped thinking rationally. You reached with your hand to his cheek, wanting to wipe away the wet trace. You hesitated at the last moment, but Lars grabbed your glove and slid it off your hand.
"Could you maybe... try this? Or can I..." you weren't sure what he wanted, but you nodded. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cheek covered in a few days' stubble. He mentally prepared for the burning pain. But when your skin connected, he only felt tingling. The tingling of a warm hand on his cold face. And something else, but pleasant. It was much easier when he had control over someone's touch. There was one more thing to check. Lars let go of your other hand, which he subconsciously held the whole time.
"You can do it yourself," he tried to convince himself rather, you thought. You smiled cautiously and with your other hand, joined the first, on the other side of his face. Through the material of your glove, blissful warmth seeped. Holding your breath, you moved the first hand, tracing the curve of his nose, his eyebrows, and forehead. Lars kept looking into your eyes all the time, trying to remember to breathe.
"Are you okay, Lars?" you asked, trying not to get closer than necessary. "Should I stop?"
"No, please," you felt his shoulders drop with another breath, and his whole body finally relaxed.
"You're beautiful," you mumbled, and Lars giggled, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. You wanted to kiss his eyelids. His sweet nose. And his lips, which he now bit and licked. Maybe someday you would be able to.
You walked towards the Lindstroms' house. Lars insisted on driving you home.
His hand was warm in yours.