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Post by Deleted Account on Dec 4, 2011 22:29:03 GMT -5
He was running away. He was ashamed. But, there was no way in hell he would get back on a plane and fly back to Oslo.
He rested his foot against the luggage helper as he waited, briefly entertaining the thought that perhaps he had packed too much for his escape. The stares from passerby only solidified this doubt. He had five pieces of luggage with him for this trip. The first one was the bag that contained his skis, poles, and ski boots. Another suitcase held his thick Columbia jacket, snow pants, gloves, goggles, hat, and under armor for when he went skiing. A third suitcase held the clothes that he wore on a normal day. His messenger bag, that was not a man-purse, held his life essentials. Laptop, composition notebook, camera, cell phone, planner, and the various chargers that kept all the electronics going. Finally, he had his violin, his most precious and expensive possession. Aside from tearing up the slopes, Lukas would also be off in Vancouver for a few nights playing with an orchestra.
He opened the hockey magazine he had bought in Oslo, which seemed like forever ago, and started to skim the interview with the man whose picture took up the cover, the Danish hockey player, Mathias Køhler. The Norwegian never lied to himself; he found that man to be absolutely irresistible. His eyes gleamed with adoration as he saw the picture of the hockey player ruffling his hair, grinning deviously, and giving the camera bedroom eyes. His eyes roved over the chiseled jaw on a close up shot, pausing to stare at his nose. The violinist cracked the tiniest grin. His nose has been broken. . .
A professional looking woman called out, “Next!” and Lukas took that as his cue to move forward. He gently pushed his luggage holder along and dug his wallet out so he could check in. He set the magazine down on the counter and smiled at the woman.
He didn’t notice how familiar the man next to him looked. . .
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Dec 8, 2011 20:50:41 GMT -5
The only place Mathias could ever imagine himself vacationing was to where there was considerably more snow. The cold was his element. And so, when he was called up from waiting in line to check into the ski resort he had plastered on his face an impossibly wide grin. The check in lady seemed to share his enthusiasm, welcoming him and taking his card with a sweet smile of her own. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as she confirmed his check in, leaning on the counter to contain his excited gestures which would capture all eyes in the room, and not in the way he was used to.
“Next.” The another woman called but it seemed that instead of a person, a small city of suitcases slid in next to him. For a few seconds the Dane just stared, wondering if the man was moving in here then his eyes trailed up to the Norwegian curiously. Somehow, he just seemed the type to bring half his wardrobe with him while traveling. He wanted to make a remark about it, if only to be cheeky but out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar face… his own. The magazine was placed conveniently close to him with a picture of himself open and obvious.
Clearly the guy was a shy fan or something; too nervous to ask for an autograph. Lucky for him though, Mathias was both arrogant and shameless. “Can I borrow this?” He asked the woman as she slid his card back to him, pointing to a pen beside her computer. She handed it to him with a nod and the Dane turned to the magazine, scribbling on it a surprisingly professional looking signature that was the polar opposite to his natural hand writing. His original signature hadn’t met an ex-girlfriend’s standards, resulting in her re-designing it and standing over him as he practiced. The bitch.
“Thank you.” He said, lifting the handle of his suitcase and bringing the snow board under his arm. He turned away from his ‘fan’ wordlessly.
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Post by Deleted Account on Dec 8, 2011 23:33:49 GMT -5
He was glad for the many people that he saw in the lobby, because it meant that he could disappear that much easily. Though, he’d feel even better if people would stop staring at him. The violinist was well aware that he had a lot of luggage. The other guests at the lodge should have been able to look over for a few seconds, realize that, and then move on with their life. And if they’re too rude to do that, then maybe they should make their staring less obvious! He seethed to himself.
The woman behind the counter handed him an envelope that contained the card that served as his room key, and used a pen to circle the number 221 written on a thin line. “This is your room number. If you follow that man with a snowboard and spikey hair down that hallway, and then go to the right when you reach the autographed photo of Shaun White, you’ll find the elevators.” Lukas nodded, absorbing the information. “I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Haraldson!”
The Norwegian thanked her and grabbed his luggage cart in one hand and his hockey magazine in the other, glancing down at the magazine briefly before looking back up. His subconscious registered something different about the magazine, causing his blue-violet gaze to drift back to the picture. A surprisingly elegant signature graced the corner of the bedroom eyes picture. He held it closer to his face to read the script.
Mathias Køhler.
His eyes widened slightly, wondering if it was fake. The elegance of this signature did not match up with the hockey player that was normally getting into fights on the ice. He looked at the man he was supposed to follow, and he looked eerily familiar. Lukas was a smart man, and he easily put the pieces of the puzzle together.
He picked up a brisk walking pace to catch up with the man.
“I know that you're arrogant, but I must admit that I didn’t think that it had reached this level of arrogance.”
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Dec 14, 2011 6:35:38 GMT -5
Mathias pressed the round elevator button, smiling cheerfully to himself when the arrow above his head lit up, announcing that he would soon be on his way up to his room. Yes. It was going to be a good day, even if the occasional passer-by would double take after glancing at him. Canada was the home of hockey after all and so while he felt a sense of belonging he also knew that out of all the places on the globe he could have chosen for a vacation Vancouver was somewhere he would stand out. Oh well. The snow was good.
“I know that you’re arrogant, but I must admit that I didn’t think it had reached this level of arrogance.”
The voice behind him caused him to start, snapping his head around to the stoic Norwegian man… and Mathias could tell straight away that he was Norwegian. For a second the Dane just looked at him stupidly, trying to figure out exactly what he meant by his accusation until his eyes rested on that magazine with that rather fortunate picture if he did say so himself. And of course he would have no shame in doing exactly that.
“Oh… Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t know it was a normal thing for you to walk around with pictures of me.” He replied haughtily turning his head attention to the elevator when it opened. He stepped inside, dragging his luggage and board with him then pressed the ‘open’ button, holding the door for the other man simply to be the bigger person. Although, having that as his motive was pretty ironic.
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Post by Deleted Account on Dec 14, 2011 23:28:46 GMT -5
There are very few people in the world that would see Lukas’ breath catch in his throat and absolute adoration flood into his blue-violet eyes. Even with the slightly stupid look on the Dane’s face, Lukas was still in awe. He would never admit that, though. His features fell back into his normal neutral a few seconds later, only to raise an eyebrow at the hockey player’s comment.
He flipped his magazine away from the Dane’s picture and closed it. It didn’t help him that the hockey player also dominated the cover, looking as sexy as ever, but that wasn’t the point. “It’s a magazine I bought before I left Oslo. It has much more than just pictures of you.” He reopened the magazine to the best article, the article about Valengrå Ishockey— his favorite team. Of course, Lukas also cheered for the Norwegian national team. “This is the reason I bought it. I enjoy reading about my favorite team.”
His ear twitched as the bell sounded, his mind very much attuned to the sounds in the environment around him. Lukas pushed his luggage cart into the elevator and put it closer to the wall, with himself standing towards the middle. He nodded at his odd companion, “Thank you for holding the elevator.” He reached over and pushed the round button labeled with a ‘2’ for his floor. He stood silently for a few moments, before turning and offering his hand.
“I am Lukas. Lukas Haraldson.”
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Dec 19, 2011 20:23:40 GMT -5
“That’s not the page I saw open.” He muttered, although he was inclined to let it go if the Norwegian man, ‘Lukas’ would as well. Mathias never really knew what to do when someone knew who he was and introduced themselves. Normally, he would tell him his name anyway assuming that to simply be the most polite response. However, he had his suspicions that he would be giving Lukas more ammunition to fire snarky remarks back at him again. He wouldn’t intentionally help him there . And it would seem that fate didn’t want to remove him from the slightly awkward situation as his designated button was pressed by the Norwegian. He shook his hand with a small smile but made no real effort to encourage conversation. Lukas Haraldson hadn’t made the best first impression and Mathias felt no inclination to make small talk when there was no gain on his behalf. Still, when the elevator dinged once more and opened he moved to the side and rested his arm between the sensitive doors, holding it so that the man could easily move his little city of cases from their enclosure. “After you.” He said simply, looking at the other expectantly.
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Post by Deleted Account on Dec 21, 2011 14:10:16 GMT -5
Lukas resisted the urge to roll his eyes at mutter his keen ears caught, and instead put the magazine in his Louis Vuitton messenger bag. His pale hand withdrew clutching a small, leather planner. He flipped it open to that week, each day filled with appointments written in neat script. They were all made at least two hours after the ski lifts at the resort closed. He had several business dinners with music publishers and rehearsals with the orchestra he was playing with late in the year and early in the new one. Idly, he reached back to scratch at the two dark f holes tattooed onto his neck. The blank ink driven into his skin was slightly raised, and he ran his fingers over the borders, feeling the texture change. Beneath his almost invisible eyelashes, the Norwegian eyed the Dane standing across the small space from him.
Åh, min Gud, my family will never believe this story!
He only allowed himself two seconds to look before he closed his planner and set it back into his bag. Just as he was standing up again, he heard the bell ding to signal that they had reached their floor.
“After you.”
Lukas couldn’t bring himself to look at the Dane, instead brushing past him, the small muscles on his own arms pulling taut as he dragged the luggage cart behind him. Once he was out of the way, he turned back to the hockey player and said quietly, “Thank you.”
A quick glance at a sign showed Lukas where his room was, and he began to walk that way, still dragging his luggage behind him.
The numbers 221 were emblazoned on the door with gold-colored numbers in a neat row. He reached back into his messenger bag and withdrew his room key, unknowingly letting his planner fall forgotten onto the floor. The light turned green and Lukas opened the door, transferring all of his luggage from the cart and into the room.
He kicked the wooden looking door shut behind him, the planner sitting innocently outside of it, waiting to be found.
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Dec 22, 2011 20:49:32 GMT -5
Mathias simply nodded twice in recognition of the Norwegian’s thanks and started walking behind him, making sure there was at least a little distance between them as he made his way to the room titled ‘230’. And that was it. After fumbling stupidly with the key which caused the lock to flashed red multiple times as he tried every angle, twice, he pulled his suitcase in and set his board and hockey stick up down against the wall.
Jet lag had to be one of Mathias’ worst enemies because no matter how he fought it he ended up screwing up his sleeping patterns. Today was going to be one of those days where he decided to stay up until it was at least nine pm in Vancouver as opposed to napping to fix his schedule that way. And of course, staring at the all too comfortable looking bed with the heated mat wasn’t going to help him there. So, he left the comfort of his room with his wallet and key in hand to venture to the hotel bar for overpriced and unfortunately, Canadian beer.
As he was walking though the Dane noticed the small black note book sitting innocently outside of a room, some of the pages were bent and it was flat at and open and awkward angle. He picked it up and looked around the lifeless corridor hoping to find who it belonged to. It didn’t take him too long to figure it out though, as right next to the door was that golden luggage cart which transported the mountain of suitcases belonging to that Norwegian man. Despite better judgement he opened the diary and flicked through to today’s date, quirking a brow at the structured days he had planned.
It wasn’t as much that he wanted to see the Norwegian again as that he wanted to be a smart ass about the situation, so he pulled the black pen attached to the side of the planner and wrote in messy writing contrasting his signature ‘7pm drinks with Mat – Hotel Bar.’ It seemed as though Lukas couldn’t leave any forms of paper lying around with him. He knocked on the door.
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Post by Deleted Account on Dec 24, 2011 13:44:55 GMT -5
The first thing that Lukas did after dragging all of his suitcases into the room was to collapse back onto the queen sized bed and stare at the ceiling. The Norwegian only allowed himself to rest for less than a minute; he knew that if he rested longer, he would fall asleep. He napped during his layovers in Greenland and New York, as well as on the flight to Vancouver. But even with the naps, this comfortable bed could easily have lulled the violinist to sleep again.
He groaned as he pushed himself off of the bed and started to unpack. Two full suit bags and one empty one were hung in the closet, and all of his ski clothes got their own drawer. Once he had finished unpacking everything, he started to change out his suit and into something more comfortable. Lukas pulled a dark red sweater and a pair of jeans out and laid them on the bed. He changed out of his suit and hung it properly in the clothing bag before standing in his underwear for a few minutes.
He reached for the remote and turned the TV on, flipping until he found a news channel. The silence in the room had begun to bother him. His schizophrenic mind was prone to making up things that weren’t there, especially in almost silent places— with or without the meds he took religiously each day. Satisfied with the voice of the male news anchor filling his room, Lukas pulled his pants on.
A knock sounded and Lukas dropped the sweater back onto the bed before wandering over to the door. He wondered who it could be on the other side of his door, since he had no friends here. As a precaution, he peered through the peek hole in the door and blinked when he saw the Danish hockey player standing there. Not caring about the fact that he was severely lacking a shirt, Lukas opened the door all the way.
He kept on hand on the doorknob and leaned against the wall, using his other arm for a cushion, unconsciously showing off his bare torso. The hand on the door played for a bit, widening and shrinking how open the door was. “Can I help you?”
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Jan 1, 2012 17:02:57 GMT -5
Being the impatient man he was Mathias turned away when he didn’t get an immediate reply. Although, he’d only managed to take a half step before the clicking of the door demanded his attention and he fumbled his step, cursing quickly in Danish before looking back at the Norwegian like nothing had happened. And when he did take a look he was far from disappointed, eyebrows shooting up visibly on his forehead when he noticed the slender but tone build of the man.
“Uhhh…” He managed intelligently, thinking back to that porno he’d watched far too recently with an eerily similar situation. But now was probably a really bad time to be thinking about that… “Yeah, this yours?” The Dane held the book up as if he hadn’t looked through it already let alone graffitied in it. “Found it on the floor here sooo….” His eyes drifted to the side as if he needed some other purpose to stay here; however, when he couldn’t find one he shrugged, thrusting it at him then shovelled his hands in his pockets and turned once more.
“See you later.”
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Post by Deleted Account on Jan 2, 2012 0:32:39 GMT -5
Part of Lukas was dying to smirk and tease the man with a, “So, you like what you see.” The Norwegian knew that he was a very handsome man. He didn’t flaunt his good looks like some of the American celebrities he saw in the news, but he was very proud of his physical appearance.
An eyebrow of his own raised at the very intelligent, “Uhhh. . .” His head tilted to the side and he prepared himself to remind the Dane that there was most likely a reason that he was standing outside of his door now when the hockey player held up his planner and asked if it was his.
“Åh, ja. . .” The Norwegian that escaped his mouth was soft, almost dreamlike. He opened his door fully and used the arm that was playing with it to reach out and take his planner back.
“In celebrity news, Danish actor Magnus Fenrirson, known for his roles in several Scandinavian movies, has signed on to produce the next movie in the hit series by Stieg Larsson. . .”
Lukas turned his head and made a soft scoffing noise at the news before taking his planner back and holding it to his hip. “Thank—“ He stopped himself, realizing that he sounded like a broken record. Instead, he gave him a bit of a smile to the Dane and said, “Mange tak.”*
He turned and closed the door behind him, firstly grabbing the remote and changing the channel so he didn’t have to see his ex monopolize his TV. He stopped flipping around once he found The Princess and The Frog and curled back up on his bed.
The leather planner was set on his nightstand next to the magazine— That he wrote in! With that frantic though in mind, Lukas opened his planner to that day and looked at it.
It was hard to miss, really. The sloppily written ‘7pm drinks with Mat – Hotel Bar’ was a contrast to the Norwegian’s script. He glanced at the clock, which informed him that it was closing in on 3 in the afternoon. He chuckled fondly to himself, and tossed his planner back onto the nightstand.
“Bloody Dane. . .” ((Mange tak = thank you very much -Danish-))
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Jan 3, 2012 6:11:20 GMT -5
Of course it was only after he’d handed the damn book back to the Norwegian that Mathias regretted his actions. He’d done it purely to annoy Lukas, but what if he turned up? Or worse… what if he didn’t turn up? Things were going to be incredibly awkward no matter what now the outcome, but he just couldn’t have resisted such an incredible opportunity. So if he did go down, he’d go down remembering the awesomeness he’d performed that afternoon: managing to scribble on a stranger’s belongings twice without him noticing.
………
If Lukas wasn’t here in five minutes he was leaving.
But until then, he kept his eyes glued to his phone in front of him, pretending like he genuinely had something important he had to do on it while he was waiting. 6:54. He was actually early for once… Not only that but he had put some real thought into his outfit tonight, wearing a pair of washed out jeans accompanied by a white t-shirt. On top of this he adorned a faded blue shirt by design which had been purposefully left unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled half way up, revealing muscles he was far too proud of. If nothing else the colours suited him, even if he rarely wore blue.
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Post by Deleted Account on Jan 3, 2012 18:13:28 GMT -5
Lukas wondered when they had become so familiar. He thought that ‘Mat’ was a pet name, one given to the other man by a lover. It certainly wasn’t the name he would have picked.
He curled up beneath a blanket and continues to watch the Disney movie. When he realized how drowsy he felt, his hand reached out for his smartphone and set an alarm for 6:15 and then he went back to watching the movie.
Eventually, the singing southerners lulled the Norwegian off to sleep in that incredibly comfortable bed. . .
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The alarm woke him up at 6:15, and blue-violet eyes peeked blearily from beneath the thick comforter. A pale hand reached out to turn the alarm off and he sat up, rubbing at his eyes.
After a few minutes of reorienting himself, Lukas shoved the covers back and got out of bed. He pawed through his clothes, as he was now just wearing a pair of sweatpants as he relaxed in his room.
After a few minutes, he decided to wear a dark red, short sleeved shirt. He paired it with a light gray, cardigan style sweater. A pair of dark, straight legged jeans and comfortable leather shoes completed the look.
In an attempt to get rid of the sleepy look in his eye, Lukas washed his face and dried it before getting dressed. He slid his room key into his wallet and tucked his wallet and his phone into his pocket. He left the bedside light on so he didn’t return to a pitch black room, and turned the TV off before leaving his room and heading towards the elevator.
He had to wait a few minutes before the elevator arrived, but the descent to the ground floor was quick.
A sudden chill ran through his body as he steps into the lobby, even as several fires roared in hearths around the large room. What if this was all just a cruel joke? Perhaps Mathias was waiting in the shadows of the bar, watching for him, planning to humiliate him.
He pulled his sleeve up to check his watch. It was only 6:51. He still had some time to avoid humiliation. Quickly, a plot appeared in his mind, and Lukas walked off towards a small grouping of couches around a fireplace. It was only occupied by two young men, talking to each other a bit nervously, as if they had just met.
Lukas took a seat on one of the empty couches and peeked over the back of it, trying not to disturb the other two. He saw the hockey player sitting at the bar, an empty seat next to him.
The violinist swallowed heavily and steeled himself, prepared to lie about seeing the date marked in his planner.
He stepped into the bar and walked proudly over to where Mathias was sitting. He pulled the empty chair out and looked at his new companion, saying, “If you wanted a date, you could’ve just asked.”
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Post by Mathias Kohler on Jan 9, 2012 19:39:33 GMT -5
When the Dane heard the chair screech backwards he lifted his head, prepared to tell the individual that the seat was taken in the most polite way he knew how. But upon meeting the gaze of the Norwegian his words caught and his eyes remained glued on the other, genuinely surprised that he came at all.
“Well, looks like I didn’t have to. You’re here, aren’t ya?” He laughed, choosing to take the word ‘date’ in a less romantic context, even if it was pretty clear what Lukas meant by it. He waited until he was seated before waving at the bar tender with two fingers raised, the man already knowing exactly what beverage he was asking for if the already empty two glasses were of any indication. Apparently they were. “So… What’s got you here?” He asked jumping to get to know him, and to be honest he probably couldn’t have cared less but in his anxiety he’d plotted out different questions to ask the man to save the night from being awkward should he actually turn up. Which he did. “You got other friends up here waitin’ for you?” He switched to his first language of choice, sipping his beer when it was placed directly in front of him and his ‘date’.
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Post by Deleted Account on Jan 10, 2012 0:35:54 GMT -5
Lukas drank next to nothing alcohol wise. Alcohol made his hallucinations appear easier. He had learned that the hard way, drinking two entire bottles of wine by himself after Magnus opened his parents’ liquor cabinet. The Norwegian spent the night curled up on the bathroom floor, shivering beneath three blankets, feeling like he was about to throw up, with a massive headache from the voices and the alcohol combined. Despite his ex-boyfriend bothering him about the choice, Lukas had just about sworn off any alcohol. He only drank at family parties, and even then, he would barely finish one glass of beer.
When the bartender asked for his order, the blonde simply asked for some soda. His gaze lingered on the two empty glasses, and then looking back at the Dane. Either those were someone else’s glasses — which Lukas thought to be unlikely — or the other man could really hold his alcohol.
His heart skipped a beat at the question. It just wasn’t like he’d admit that. He couldn’t deny his crush on the hockey player. “Work. I’ve a concert coming up soon in Vancouver.” He took a sip from his drink only to almost choke on it at the next question. The next few moments were filled with his coughing and gasping for air. Finally, he managed to calm his breathing and scoff. “Friends? Lies. The people waiting for me would happily slit my throat and cut out the tattoos on the back of my neck before stealing my violin, my prestige and taking my place.”
He might’ve been exaggerating, but it wasn’t too far off, really. Music was an incredibly competitive discipline. Yes, even cut throat.
The slender man leaned back in his chair, looking at the Dane. “What about you? What brings you here? And while we’re talking, why do you keep writing on my things?”
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