A Nordic NYC Christmas

Part IX

-Lukas' POV-

I had no idea where my brother was. Then again, I didn't really care. What was new? Well...

I looked over to see Berwald leaning closer and closer to me. I didn't really mind. He wasn't annoying or pushy or stupid. I kind of liked him, even. But something got on my nerves. Whatever I ordered, he ordered the same thing. I find that rude, unsophisticated, and cliche of a person madly in love. Other than that, though, I enjoyed his company.

"S' how's Norway?" he asked.

I wasn't quite sure how to answer. "It's fine, I guess. There's a lot of money to go around, and not a lot of people to distribute it to, so I can't really complain," I smirked. Money jokes are my favorite.

He nodded. "Wish it w's the same in Sweden. Seems like everyone wants t' move here."

I bit my tongue. How even the name of Sweden boiled my blood. It was like having an older brother who was a child prodigy in everything he did, and a younger brother who was cute and likeable, and you were the middle child: brilliant, good-looking, and talented, but irritatingly overlooked in every aspect of life. That, in a nutshell, is how I view my country. People ask me, "Hey I like your Swedish accent. Hope you have a safe trip back to Stockholm!" It enfuriates me. I have to hold my hands together to refrain from flipping them off, though in my head I am doing so and cursing them out as well. I, my friends, am not from Sweden, nor will I ever be. It's preposterous.

"Well, that's what happens when you over-advertise yourself. People start migrating by the thousands and you find the population rates soaring and the economy and standard of living plummeting." Someone had to say it.

He frowned. "D'dn't need t' go so far, Lukas."

"Oh I'm not going far. I'm speaking nothing but the truth. If the truth hurts, then that's your problem."

"People don't even kn'w where N'rway is," he threatened.

That hit a nerve. "But who has the more money here? That's all that matters, anyway."

"All that matt'rs to misers like ye. Yer music is terrible."

"So? The only reason Tove Lo is staying high is so she can forget she lives in Sweden."

"Ye don't even know what a fox says."

"Caramelldansen is officially the most annoying song on Earth."

"Oh yeah? More 'nnoying than Take On Me?"

Oh no. He didn't. Nobody criticizes a-ha. "More annoying than Dancing Queen?!"

He was stunned. "Don't ye dare."

I stood up. This was enough. "Oh, did I criticize ABBA? Yes sir, I did."

"Ye can't keep hold of yer butter."

"You make terrible furniture."

"IKEA is sturdy and dependable."

"Only when it's in a magazine."

"Ye can't make cars."

"Don't make cars unless you actually can. Which is exactly what you did with Volvo. Volvos are the stereotypical cars for boring American families. But that's exactly what you are, isn't it? Boring and Americanized? The real Swedish culture is practically gone."

"N'rwegian culture isn't worth keepin'."

"Stupid."

"Greedy."

"Boring."

"Wait, who are ye again? Aren't ye that guy from Denmark?"

Matthias raised his hand. "I'm right here."

"He's not talking to you, Matthias," I snapped. "Dancing queen is annoying."

"Just l't it go!"

"Oh that's right, Frozen, the highest grossing animated film is set in NORWAY!"

"Frozen s'cks."

"You suck."

Berwald walked out of the restaurant, looking defeated. I smirked triumphantly. I had won this battle. Nobody can take that away from me.

Matthias nearly dropped his drink in shock.