{hi!!long time no see. I recently got back into writing, and I've decided to post some of my stuff here. a majority of it is with the 2p!Nordics, but soon I'll have stuff up with some OCs of mine. Thanks for stick in' around, I guess.}
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This was the first time in years he didn't feel sick to his stomach upon seeing the Swede. He had been alone for years–he was glad to see someone that wasn't his own reflection. The two were both seated at the Dane's kitchen table, the atmosphere around them clearly uncomfortable and generally tense. It had been centuries since either of them were able to sit in the same room without passing snarky remarks back and forth until one couldn't find a way to fire back.
"Why are you here?" Cedrik asked without making eye contact with the younger man seated across from him, simply staring into his coffee mug with a blank expression. He wasn't quite sure if he could even handle looking him in the eye after everything that had happened between them. After all, it's very easy to hold a grudge when you attack one's people in a power driven temper tantrum.
"It's about Christoffer."
Cedrik felt his heart sink. He knew exactly where this was going.
"He misses you, Cedrik. He has for years. It's how he ended up isolating himself, you know. He doesn't see himself as important anymore. In his eyes, as long as you aren't with him, life is meaningless." Frederik explained, a false tone of sincerity lacing each word that he spoke. He didn't feel as guilty as he sounded. He didn't care for the youngest of the trio–he only did the things he did to get a rise out of the eldest man. He wasn't going to stop doing this until the day one of them died–and he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"He could've stopped by..."
"He was convinced that you hated him."
"But I couldn't hate him. He's my husband."
"Then why did you hurt him, Cedrik?"
Cedrik tightened his hold on his mug, his knuckles turning white and his hand beginning to tremble.
"I didn't know what else to do. I-it was much better for him to get a couple of smacks every now a-and then, rather than for him to be whipped constantly b-because of our love." The Dane answered through gritted teeth, his voice wavering as he gradually shifted his gaze towards the Swede sitting across from him.
Both of them fell silent. Neither of them said a word, and neither of them dared to move from where they were seated. This was how wars started.
Frederik began to speak after a few minutes of silence.
"...nonetheless, whether it was intentional or not, you still hurt him. You hurt him badly enough that he stopped feeling. I don't care if that was your intention but–"
"Stop talking a-about him like you know him."
"Pardon?"
"Y-You don't know him. N-not like I do. You don't know how he h-handles things when he's upset. You don't kn-know how he views the world. You've n-never seen through his eyes. You've never been inside his head. You d-don't know him, Frederik. So shut up. Stop p-pretending that you do."
Both fell silent once more. Frederik didn't bother fighting back once he began to speak yet again.
"...alright, Cedrik. I understand. But my point still stands–he misses you. He wants to see you, even if it's just for five minutes. Please? It will make him so happy." The Swede pleaded as his tone grew more gentle, though only received a heavy sigh from his brother. "Everytime I go to see him, he asks about you. He wants to know that you're okay. He wants to know that you're happy. He never believes me when I answer him. Everytime he demands that I better not come back unless I've got you by my side. Please, Cedrik. Just once. I just need you to do it one time, and then you'll never have to do it again. It's the least you could do."
Hesitating for only a brief moment, Cedrik reluctantly nodded as he leaned back in his chair. "Fine. But only for five minutes, and just this once. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir."
