literature

(Norway x Reader) Nostalgia

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Literature Text

Nostalgia

--
{ modern au }

"Isn't that reckless? What a mindless moron."

His hand closed around his beverage, still feeling the long due steam stifle and trickle slowly out of the slit in the top, feeling the fabric soak the subtle moisture unknowingly.

"... And that was how it was done," Lukas confirmed, continuing his small story that touched upon how exactly that Mathias was a not worth anybody's time. "That idiotic Dane never saw it coming." 

He glanced over at you, a strange unfamiliar expression filling his face as he quickly looked away, his face smoothing into an unknown emotion to any passerby or stranger.

He'd never want you to see him like this.

It was almost pathetic- the situation you and him was in. Yet in the same sense, it was completely, utterly reasonable, and no one questioned it. You loved him, he loved you. 
Simple. 

That particular Norwegian man was the last person you were ever going to love in your life, no matter how stupid it sounded, it was true.

The air was mellow with a small breeze spreading through the air, bringing a small tingle that reached through his coat and ruffled his light blonde hair.

"It's odd," he ambiguously said, still feeling the chill rush through him despite being with you. "It ended like this."

He continued anyway, sensing the upright question you were definitely about to ask. What do you mean? This isn't the end, don't say that.

"But it is," he murmured, not explaining any more than he did. You were with him forever, anyway. And the state of the relationship now, was how it was going to remain eternally.

You didn't seem to say anything to this response. This didn't appear to unnerve Lukas, despite your dislike for awkward silence.
You weren't obligated to talk, anyway. No one was, in the bitter honesty.

It was always a norm to have a sentimental and silent connection some time in the day, so this was no different, he was sure.

"I got flowers," he spoke again, with an almost unidentifiable emotion in his tone. "I thought you might like them." 

There was always a large concern for you, anywhere and anytime. It disgusted him to see you some days so upset, stressed, so pained. At least now... It's not a massive problem anymore, seeing you are fine now.

The large-petaled flowers were lifted out of his grip and near you, who, he was positive, was quite happy with the flowers. 

The Norwegian man remembered rather clearly, when you had one day praised this sort of flower's beauty, but never got around to creating your own mini botanical garden for whatever reasons that he clearly dismissed from his mind.

"Emil misses you as well. He says he's too 'busy', like always." It was an obvious lie. They always were.

Perhaps it was like a sign of unspoken affection that Lukas now gave her these flowers, but whatever it was, his feelings were utmost genuine.

The setting around him, however, was quite different in contrast of the rambunctious environment he's so very fitted in often. 

It almost felt somewhat unsettling, and if you had not been there with him, he would of felt nothing toward such a haunting area, so full of people yet so mellow. As if their existence was thin and flimsy, that would blow away with a gale so similar such as the one that tugged on his clothing in the most gnawing manner.

"... Tino and Berwald also come, don't they, on the weekends." 
They always enjoyed spending their only break in business hours with you- a cherished memory. One that clouded his judgement for a second, and a flicker of anger could be seen if scrutinized closely, but it was gone as quickly it came.

There was, in honesty, so much to say, yet the grains in the narrow hourglass had already emptied out, quite some time ago. A pity, but it still didn't change the fact that life went on.

Lukas never gave any note on how actually sentimental and cliché he could become around you, but the world around him seemed so minute, that it was practically nothing to explain it.
Like what was said before, no one questioned it anymore, since it was edging the "normal" factor to his unbeknownst habit.

Lukas then found himself in a sort of headache, where a rampage of spontaneous thoughts irrelevant to any topic seemed to swarm his mind process. 

In which he got up immediately, mumbling something along the lines of "I'll be quick" and strode confidently toward the public trash barrel, where junk already littered the ground mindlessly, where no one had most likely swept up in weeks.

He stood at the disposal bin in a stoic manner, almost as if confronting the inanimate object, while holding the disposable coffee cup in one hand to toss it out. 
Normally whenever he bought any sort of beverage for on-the-go events from any sort of café or coffeehouse, he'd finish it- with the assistance of you.

So it was essentially only the break of habit that caused him to hesitate as he did now, less seamlessly in his actions. Despite everything, he managed to place the drink in the bin with no sign of spillage, and turned back to you.

As Lukas sat quietly on the bench, he could almost faintly hear the ticking of the clock, and he almost cringed at the time. No doubt he was required to leave soon, like always.

His faint fingertips felt numb even through the fabric of the glove that was supposed to do exactly that- keep his hands away from the biting cold. 
Coming from up North, barely anything could compete with the harsh winds and chill, so it was different, not yet strange.

But no, despite all that, the gloves were definitely not the ones up for blame. Nor was it the little-less than full, small, bitter coffee Lukas had thrown away just now, with its heat fading quickly away from his right palm where he gripped it.

It could quite possibly be that there were the vacant spaces where, in normal cases, your fingers would brush softly against his, your palm pressing slightly onto his, which would close the space that you disliked even in the very beginning.

Like Lukas noted, however, that would be the case in a typical sort of basis. And even you would agree, that in the end, it was simply inevitable.

Suddenly Lukas got up, rolling his shoulders as he did. "Well, that's all the time I've got today, I'll come see you tomorrow." He nodded, turning his back momentarily on you. "Though I'll always have time for you. Just relax until I'm back."

Patting your smooth gravestone gingerly, the flowers beside the cold gray granite shook seamlessly, petals dropping and sailing in with the wind. 
Lukas watched them whisk away out of sight, his slim fingers clenching into a fists as he looked away.

But, of course, it was not the end.
Not just yet, because life goes on.
Y'all thought I was done with Hetalia.
Pfft.
I'm never done with Hetalia.

So anyway, I did another writing exercise that, I guess, revolves around Reader's death and whatnot. :XD: I suppose it's safe to understand that I never will put "Dead!Reader" in the title because idk surprises, you know??
I think I butchered Norway's personality, ack. Many apologies. ; n ;

You (c) the grave
Hetalia (c) Himaruya


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EdgeofDay's avatar
This would also have worked if read-chan was a coma patient or had just grown old because she was human and Norway isn't. 
But this is an awesome story nevertheless!