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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Dec 9, 2011 1:33:19 GMT -5
Lars was usually an early bird, but even he could admit five AM was a bit of a push for an early riser such as him. Clad in his Peruvian decorated sweater, a beanie, jeans and his trademark cerulean and lilac scarf, the Dutchman released a sigh of cold air into the dimming skies of Vancouver.
He shivered, pale, ivory skin becoming clad with goose bumps as his palor became lighter and lighter as December wore on. He huffed, the Dutchman would smoke to provide his body with some sort of air, but his mitten clad her hands were too busy seeking warmth in his pants pockets.
Still, he leaned against the railing of surrounding the open ice rink on the frozen lake, impatience already setting in but who could he blame but himself ? He did not even expect Mathaias to receive his multiple text messages he sent since four.
Wake up, Stupid.
From Lars to Mathaias.
Sent: 04:12:12 AM
No response.
Meet me at the rink at five.
From Lars to Mathaias.
Sent: 04:39:04
Still no response from the idiot hockey player.
I'm freezing my ass off, you asshole. Get over here !
Sent: 05:23:52
Lars realized he may as well have been asking too much, still, the only reasons he would be at the rink at such godforsaken hours of the morning, was specifically because no one would be awake and around at this time.
And if this was going to fail as much as he thought it was, then Lars did not want any witnesses. No teasing from afar, no giggles and quirks of eyebrows.
Besides, it was a 50/50 Deal and the Dutchman offered to teach his best friend how to draw in exchange for skating lessons.
Even though Lars found it cheesy, he knew ... Antonio did want to be the couple that held hands and could skate the night away.
And he could be that.
IF MATHAIAS WOULD JUST SHOW UP.
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Dec 12, 2011 6:15:21 GMT -5
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
It had been Mathias’ idea to meet Lars today at the rink, and he vaguely remembered suggesting the time… which was about fifteen minutes ago. Five AM was the perfect time for practice with any novice and in particular the Dutchman because, for one, there would be less people watching, and two there would be less people for his best friend to crush when he face planted. And he probably would. A lot.
He hadn’t left any time to fuss about clothing so he pulled a singlet and hoodie along with a pair of jeans and boots. As he was preparing to leave the room with his backpack containing beer and two sets of skates he froze and jogged back to his room. If there was one feeling he couldn’t stand, it was the sensation of his palms flat against ice. If Lars took him down there was no way he’d want to pull himself up with naked hands.
At least it wasn’t that cold. Or not to the Dane; it was probably only just below freezing, not including the chilly breeze that made bumps rise on his skin. His phone buzzed against leg and he dove his hand into his pocket, reading the third message from his best friend… who was starting to sound really pissed off. But it’s not like he’d stay mad for long. How could he when Mathias was so awesomely loveable? Surely one of his winning smiles would lighten his mood. Well, it had better, because Lars was standing only meters ahead of him, bordering the glistening lake.
“Hej!” He called out, grinning as if he were totally on time.
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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Dec 13, 2011 22:08:39 GMT -5
The Dutchman huffed, releasing a miniature puff of air that dissipated into nothing as he shivered. Of course, the winters in Vancouver paled a bit in comparison to the ones in Amsterdam, but after spending his years in the boiling oven that was Madrid and visits to Barcelona, the ash blonde became rather accomedated to waking up to a bright sun and constant warm weathers.
Releasing his last sigh, the Dutchman picked his cellphone out of his pocket to look at the time once more. It read 5:21AM. He figured Mathaias was still probably sleeping, and the people would begin making their way to the rink in an hour ... Maybe he should just leave ?
"Hej !"
The ash blonde blinked as a familiar voice interrupted his thought process, the boisterous tone easily belonging to the idiot best friend that was his rock, his pride, his right-hand-man ...
... The asshole who was twenty minutes late.
"Nice of you to show up, sleeping beauty..." Instead of relief washing over him, which it would be a bold-faced lie if he said he did not feel any at all, Lars' tone was only filled with agitation and impatience.
"Give me the skates." He merely held out his hand, not at all impressed by how things were going so far.
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Dec 14, 2011 7:14:27 GMT -5
Ohps. Lars didn’t sound too happy. But hey, he was on vacation, so really the Dutchman should be impressed that he managed to drag himself out of bed at all, let alone at five AM. “Sorry ‘bout that, bro…” He chuckled although admittedly he probably didn’t look too apologetic with that permanent grin plastered to his face. “But hey, don’t look too happy to see me.”
When told to, he dug through his bag and handed him the skates, “here you go! Hope they fit.” He laughed sheepishly, tempted to compare his best friend to another Disney princess whose story revolved around the fit of a shoe… but the Dane wisely thought he probably shouldn’t push his luck at this moment.
He turned to the seat and brushed the snow away with pleather cased hands before plonking down and tearing his backpack open once more to remove his own skates. “Tie ‘em tight.” Mathias said, expertly threading his own bleached laces in crossed pattern against the black tongue of his skates. While he trusted his best friend to be able to perform the simple task he noted to himself to check and make sure that the Dutchman’s definition of tight matched his own.
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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Jan 4, 2012 23:06:07 GMT -5
Lars would have laughed at Mathaias' sarcasm had he been in the mood, or had he bee inclined to be here in the first place. Merely snatching the skates with an irritable snarl, not even muttering a thank you as he awkwardly shifted his backside against the wall of the ice rink, in his best efforts to slip on his skates without falling.
"Ja, ja, I know." The Dutchman finished tying up his laces on his skates before straightening once more, before fixing his hardened gaze to the Dane, meeting his dopey smile with a deadpanned expression.
"Okay, where do we start ?"
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Jan 9, 2012 19:40:30 GMT -5
It looked like Lars was coping okay with getting his skates on. Or well, really he just didn’t want to touch the Dutchman directly when he was so irritable.
Dropping onto his knees wordlessly and with purely innocent intentions, Mathias tugged a couple of times on Lars’s laces, just checking that he had done them up right. “Great!” He chirped, playing the optimistic coach then stood up easily and walked backwards towards the ice on the thin blades as if he’d done it a thousand times before… Which he probably had.
“Start on the ice of course~.” He practically sang, cheerfully; turning only to step up onto the slippery surface and in one easy movement skid to lean on the side of the rink. “Don’t trip.” He grinned, sounding amused by his train of thought, like he believed it would happen when he took his first steps. “Hey! We’re gonna get to watch the sun come up over the mountains here, that’s awesome.” He smiled, already distracted and looking over his shoulder at where he assumed the sun would eventually pop out from.
Lars really couldn’t have been landed with a worse instructor.
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