Escape Route 3/?
Author: stargeek101
Overall Rating: pg13 with fluctuations
Summary: Geir Zahl struggles through his faith and sexuality as he tries to make it through his final year at an all boys school in Bergen.
Pairing: Geir/Janove
Feedback: Makes me dance like Helge listening to Psycho Under Min Hatt
Overall Warnings: Language, sexual themes, violence, alcohol/drug abuse, suicide attempt
Disclaimers: Geir, Jan, Janove, Christer and Terje are the only ones whose whole names are used (I don't own them) but most of the OCs are named after various Norwegian and Swedish peeps. I do not own the music mentioned throughout the story. The title is from Frightened Rabbit's song of the same name (don't own that either ;))
Notes: Unbeta-ed again. Life if complicated right now. Not really getting any writing done. Sorry.
The two brothers seat themselves at a small square table in a café about a twenty minutes walk from Geir's house. Jan, the older of the two, wraps a large hand around his steaming Irish Coffee, inhaling the thick scent of caffeine laced with whisky. The younger boy takes a quick sip of his mocha, rubbing chocolate drizzled whipped cream off his lips as he sets it in front of himself.
"What's new?" He asks, smile barely concealing itself from his face. He'd missed his brother, and it's more than clear in the shine of his blue eyes.
"Lots of school, as always. My psychology professor says I have the third highest mark out of all his courses. I don't know whether this means I have no life, or everyone else has poor work ethics, but I'm fairly content with this fact regardless. There's Britt too. I'm afraid that she's moving in. I keep finding her clothes in my laundry, and it's terribly concerning. I can't tell if my clothes are turning into hers, or if she's stealing mine and replacing them with her own, since the amount of clothes being washed hasn't changed at all."
"I think you just suck at laundry."
"Could be. That's the most logical explanation, obviously, but it makes for a less entertaining story. Bad press." He throws an arm through the air, making a stink face. "Speaking of stories, I've been struggling to come up with subjects for my column in the paper. Gossip seems to be my main supply now, which I guess would be the case for almost any journalist, though I did quite enjoy the times when I could write from the facts, such as during the big butter crisis of 2011."
"What a sad moment in our history." Geir frowns, half laughing.
"It's an embarrassment to the nation." Jan sighs, sipping from his drink. "Anyways, lately I've been going off small local stories. What's going on outside of the news. A couple days ago I heard a rumour that has traced back to your school."
"My school? What is it?" Geir crosses his legs, sitting upright, and waits. Who doesn't like to hear a good earful of gossip every once in a while?
"A student in your grade is molesting other males in locker rooms after showers in phys-ed." The older man nods his head, as if confirming his own words. "This isn't something I believed so readily, but I've done my research. The student's name is Gisle, he's graduating this year, and he's working with an accomplice from another school. I haven't figured anything out about this other boy, but that's where you come in. What have you heard of this?"
Unsure of whether to think that this rumour is some demonically twisted version of the lies spread of him, or a newly formed one out of the randomness that is humans, Geir decides upon the former. He instantly clams up. No longer able to face his brother, he fixes his focus on a shelf of coffee grounds. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Geir," Jan sighs, leaning into the younger boy. "You're my brother. Do you honestly think I'd rat you out? It's safe to tell me."
"No." Geir shakes his head, letting the brown waves bounce against his forehead. "I don't know of any students with the name Gisle, and I know for a fact that no one is being raped in the shower rooms. Who told you this crap?" He gets defensive, smacking his fists on the table and shocking both Jan and the customers around them. How could something so small as him accidentally telling Boone he was hot in an alcohol induced slip up turn him, or Gisle, which is close enough to his own name, into a gay rapist let lose in an all boys Christian school?
"I have a dead story? I spent hours on this. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm fucking positive."
Confused at the reactions he's receiving, Jan decides to close the subject. He can bring it up again later. One has to know their limits, after all. "Bummer," he mumbles, inching towards his drink again. "So, tell me about this Malin."
"Uh, well she's got long brown hair, though it's almost black. Her eyes are the same, but not, you know, long." He scratches the back of his head. "Yeah."
Jan patiently waits for more details and is annoyed to find he has to egg his brother on. "Is that all? She's just a pile of hair and eyes? Does she have a personality too? What do you do?"
"I don't know. We play tennis on weekends, as we've been doing for the past two years. We're usually at each other's houses after school, but only for a couple hours, because Dad would murder me if he found out. She's very snugly, and she has a thing about kissing my neck."
"Oh, Geir." Jan covers his mouth, half laughing. "Are you at least being safe?"
"What do you mean?"
The older man rolls his eyes. Shoving a hand into his back pocket, he pulls out his old wallet, unfolding it and taking out a small square packet. He flicks the item across the table, letting it fall onto his brother's lap. The younger boy looks down, then back up with eyes wide in shock.
"What is this?"
"It's a condom," Jan says slowly, as if he were teaching a five year old about the wonders of sex. "It's what you use so you don't get your girlfriend pregnant or catch little bugs from each other."
"But... No. We're not. No." He tries to hand the condom back to his brother, but the man won't take it. "Come on. We're not doing anything."
"Keep it anyway. If there's anything I know about my brother, it's that he can be quite charming when he's not intending to be. It never hurts to be prepared. Plus, you know, it's good for a couple years. I'm sure you'll use it at some point."
Sighing, Geir tucks it in his pocket. There's no way he could win this argument with his brother, so he might as well just give up now. Sitting with his drink to his lips, Geir strains to think of a good subject to switch to, so he settles upon saying nothing at all.
The two men sit in silence for a few minutes before Jan can't take it anymore. "Why are you so quiet? What's on your mind?"
"Nothing." Blue eyes glance into blue eyes, not daring to stare too long.
"Liar. Tell me what's wrong."
"Fine, I lied. Stuff's wrong, but I don't want to talk about it."
"Geir, you know that problems don't go away if you ignore them, right? It's like, if you hate your cat, you ignore it, and eventually it will die from lack of food and love, but then you have different problems from it, because now you have a rotting animal in your house. And then it's too late, the smell's there for a long time, and the people who did love the cat are upset."
"You killed Omen?" Geir's eyes grow wide, disturbed with this troubling thought.
"No, it was a metaphor. My dumb cat's doing fine." He puts his drink down, setting it aside for a time when his mouth is less busy. "Do you understand what I mean though? Did my explanation make sense?"
"It scared me, really. Were you trying to make me think you murdered your cat?"
"Of course I wasn't. That in itself would cause more problems, and I'm trying to help you get rid of your problems. What kind of a question is that? Ignore that. We need to stay on topic. What, prey tell, is on your mind?"
"I'll tell you another time. I don't want to get all upset before Christmas dinner. I'd have to tell everyone then, and I really don't want that."
"Alright, fine. I'll hold you to this though." Jan rubs a thumb against his eye, thinking about the possibilities. Maybe Geir has already impregnated Malin. That would explain a lot. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the girl. Maybe Geir's failing high school, and is really depressed and upset about it. No Zahl boy ever fails. They just don't.
"We should probably get back home." Geir stands up, leaving his half finished mocha to sit on the otherwise bare table. "Mom needs help with getting things ready for tonight, and she'd be upset if we didn't do anything."
---
"Jan, would you check on the turkey? Geir, for the love of god, please set the table." Their mother panics, realizing that her children have been sitting on the couch doing nothing for the better part of five minutes. "And Geir, would you mind wearing nicer clothes. We're in Norway, not America. Cowboys do not sit at our table."
"I'm not a cowboy." He frowns, crossing his arms. "I don't even have a hat." Pointing at his head, he says, "see!"
"I do see, yes. Now, take off your jeans and plaid shirt. Dress more like your brother. Go put on some proper clothes." She pats his bottom and shoos him off. As soon as he's out of sight, she turns to Jan, frowning and rubbing at her temple. "Does he seem different to you?"
"How do you mean?"
"I don't know." She sighs, dropping her hand to her side. "He's not as happy as he'd been a year ago. He's not talking to Boone anymore, which is a big one for me, because they were so close. He won't even tell me what happened between them. Geir's also come home drunk twice this year. Both times in the past couple months even. Do you think something's wrong? Do you think I'm failing as a parent? Oh god."
"Well, maybe you could let him pick his own clothes. That's all I can think your parenting skills could tweak on. He is seventeen after all. But yes, I do think something is wrong. He didn't even tell me any of this stuff."
"He tells you everything."
"Well that's what's worrying me now. He did admit that something was on his mind, but he wants to wait a little bit before telling me. I'm sure it's nothing too bad. Just teenage issues that he's dealing with in his own awkward way."
"I suppose. At least he's got himself a wonderful girlfriend. She'll be here soon actually. Yes, check the turkey. I'd hate to have a hospital trip tonight."
"Jesus Christ, that would be a nice story for my paper." He runs his hand through the air, as if creating imaginary words to float around. "Christmas Supper Food Poisoning Fiasco - Three Dead, Two Halfway There."
The woman covers her eyes. "Or I could write the story. Jan Zahl Dines Alone - Tragic Day for All."
"That would be tragic. Let's not publish that one." He grins and skips off to the kitchen.
"Ida," Anton, Geir and Jan's father, strides into the room, placing a kiss on his wife's cheek. "There's been a cancellation at Boha for tomorrow, I managed to get us a spot."
"We can't afford Boha." She tisks.
"It's Christmas in a few days and we haven't had a decent night alone in months. Jan leaves in the afternoon and Geir can take care of himself. Let me treat you." He kisses her again, and she smiles.
"Ugh, that's the last thing I wanted to see." Geir groans, running to answer the door. "Get a room, you two." He receives a small giggle from his mom, but she quiets down when she realizes it's Malin on the porch. "Hey come in," Geir greets her warmly.
"Turkey. Now," Jan orders as he pushes Geir behind him. "Hello," he thrusts out his right hand. "I'm Jan. You must be Malin. Let's go and get acquainted in the other room."
"Oh?" The girl gently shakes his hand, looking at her boyfriend with questioning eyes.
"Jan, leave her alone."
"I'll be kind. Don't get your knickers in a knot." He pulls the small brunette from her spot on their front steps, leading her into his old room.
Geir stands, greasy thermometer in hand, wondering what's happening and how he's supposed to cook a turkey.
"Come with me," his father gently turns him around. "I'll teach you how to cook this beast."
"But...Malin?"
---
"Geir," Malin says over a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "You never told me you used to dance."
The boy's eyes stare firmly at his fork, unable to move anywhere else for a moment. "Jan, you little fuck."
"Geir! Watch your mouth." Anton speaks loudly, smacking the back of his son's head.
Malin sits laughing. "I think it's cute."
"No. It's bad. It's very, very bad. You can't tell anyone." The brunette shakes his head as he reaches for a glass of water.
"Awe, why not? My boyfriend has some hidden talents, and in ballet nonetheless."
"I was six, okay. I did it for three years, loved it then, but realized what a loser it made me and stopped."
"That's really too bad. I think it's a special skill that sets you apart from most guys."
"You could always start again." Jan nudges him with his foot from across the table.
"Shut up."
"Language," His mother and father say in unison. He shies away, deciding his food might be a better thing to focus on.
---
"Geir?" Jan whispers, pulling his brother to the side for a moment.
"Hmm?"
"I know we said we wouldn't talk about this tonight, but I'm not sure I can hold it in."
"Jan, no."
"No, I'm serious. Do you actually like Malin?"
"Of course I do! What are you on about?"
"I mean, really like her? As a girlfriend, or potential life partner."
He pauses a moment, actually thinking this question through. "I don't know. Do I have to answer this now? Why is this so urgently important?"
"Because she likes you, I can see it in her eyes. The way she moves. The way she spoke about you when we were alone. Everything. But you, I just don't know. I mean, I can tell that you care about her, but you look like you're playing along. Like you're making things up as you go. And I know you're not going to like me for this conversation, especially now, but why are you with her?"
"I -" He closes his mouth, unable to think of a proper reason. He knows he's not being the worlds best boyfriend, but he can't exactly see where Jan is pulling this from. He hasn't done anything wrong as far as he can tell. "It just happened."
"Was it one of those 'Geir being charming when he's not intending to be' moments?"
"Yeah, sort of," he replies so quietly Jan almost can't hear him.
"And you're just too awkward to turn her down. Well great, this is a recipe for disaster. I knew something was off."
"But I like her. I really do. I mean, it's working so far. We get along, and we're happy."
"Uhuh, let's see how long you keep this up. Be gentle on her. She's too sweet for this kind of risky business." He places a hand on his taller brother's shoulder. "Did you at least get her something good for Christmas? You didn't get her a cat did you?"
"No, I got her a bird."
"You better not have."
"Of course I didn't. I got her a couple books that she mentioned she was looking for a few months ago and a tea set. She likes that kind of stuff."
"That sounds good. I mean, she's young enough to not catch on to the fact that you should maybe be buying her more jewellery type stuff. You sound like you'd rather just sit next to a fire than be pounding her into her sheets."
"Jan!"
"No, that's probably a good thing. Great choices."
"You're a terrible brother."
"I don't try that hard." He shrugs.
"Yeah, well maybe you should. You know nothing about what's been going on in my life lately. Maybe Malin is helping with that. Maybe she's making me happy. Yeah? So shut the fuck up."
"Geir," Jan whispers, pulling him into a hug. "I thought that this is what was wrong. How am I supposed to know if you won't tell me." He sighs into his brother, digging his face into the boy's shoulder. Suddenly, a thought comes to mind. "Oh my god."
"What?" He snaps, thoroughly unimpressed with his situation.
"The rumours are true."
"What rumours. Don't believe the rumours. No rumours are ever true, that's why they're called a rumour."
"You were raped, weren't you?"
"Get off me! Of course I wasn't fucking raped." Geir pushes away from the embrace, storming off to continue his Christmas festivities in a poor mood. So not how he intended to end his year.
Overall Rating: pg13 with fluctuations
Summary: Geir Zahl struggles through his faith and sexuality as he tries to make it through his final year at an all boys school in Bergen.
Pairing: Geir/Janove
Feedback: Makes me dance like Helge listening to Psycho Under Min Hatt
Overall Warnings: Language, sexual themes, violence, alcohol/drug abuse, suicide attempt
Disclaimers: Geir, Jan, Janove, Christer and Terje are the only ones whose whole names are used (I don't own them) but most of the OCs are named after various Norwegian and Swedish peeps. I do not own the music mentioned throughout the story. The title is from Frightened Rabbit's song of the same name (don't own that either ;))
Notes: Unbeta-ed again. Life if complicated right now. Not really getting any writing done. Sorry.
The two brothers seat themselves at a small square table in a café about a twenty minutes walk from Geir's house. Jan, the older of the two, wraps a large hand around his steaming Irish Coffee, inhaling the thick scent of caffeine laced with whisky. The younger boy takes a quick sip of his mocha, rubbing chocolate drizzled whipped cream off his lips as he sets it in front of himself.
"What's new?" He asks, smile barely concealing itself from his face. He'd missed his brother, and it's more than clear in the shine of his blue eyes.
"Lots of school, as always. My psychology professor says I have the third highest mark out of all his courses. I don't know whether this means I have no life, or everyone else has poor work ethics, but I'm fairly content with this fact regardless. There's Britt too. I'm afraid that she's moving in. I keep finding her clothes in my laundry, and it's terribly concerning. I can't tell if my clothes are turning into hers, or if she's stealing mine and replacing them with her own, since the amount of clothes being washed hasn't changed at all."
"I think you just suck at laundry."
"Could be. That's the most logical explanation, obviously, but it makes for a less entertaining story. Bad press." He throws an arm through the air, making a stink face. "Speaking of stories, I've been struggling to come up with subjects for my column in the paper. Gossip seems to be my main supply now, which I guess would be the case for almost any journalist, though I did quite enjoy the times when I could write from the facts, such as during the big butter crisis of 2011."
"What a sad moment in our history." Geir frowns, half laughing.
"It's an embarrassment to the nation." Jan sighs, sipping from his drink. "Anyways, lately I've been going off small local stories. What's going on outside of the news. A couple days ago I heard a rumour that has traced back to your school."
"My school? What is it?" Geir crosses his legs, sitting upright, and waits. Who doesn't like to hear a good earful of gossip every once in a while?
"A student in your grade is molesting other males in locker rooms after showers in phys-ed." The older man nods his head, as if confirming his own words. "This isn't something I believed so readily, but I've done my research. The student's name is Gisle, he's graduating this year, and he's working with an accomplice from another school. I haven't figured anything out about this other boy, but that's where you come in. What have you heard of this?"
Unsure of whether to think that this rumour is some demonically twisted version of the lies spread of him, or a newly formed one out of the randomness that is humans, Geir decides upon the former. He instantly clams up. No longer able to face his brother, he fixes his focus on a shelf of coffee grounds. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Geir," Jan sighs, leaning into the younger boy. "You're my brother. Do you honestly think I'd rat you out? It's safe to tell me."
"No." Geir shakes his head, letting the brown waves bounce against his forehead. "I don't know of any students with the name Gisle, and I know for a fact that no one is being raped in the shower rooms. Who told you this crap?" He gets defensive, smacking his fists on the table and shocking both Jan and the customers around them. How could something so small as him accidentally telling Boone he was hot in an alcohol induced slip up turn him, or Gisle, which is close enough to his own name, into a gay rapist let lose in an all boys Christian school?
"I have a dead story? I spent hours on this. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm fucking positive."
Confused at the reactions he's receiving, Jan decides to close the subject. He can bring it up again later. One has to know their limits, after all. "Bummer," he mumbles, inching towards his drink again. "So, tell me about this Malin."
"Uh, well she's got long brown hair, though it's almost black. Her eyes are the same, but not, you know, long." He scratches the back of his head. "Yeah."
Jan patiently waits for more details and is annoyed to find he has to egg his brother on. "Is that all? She's just a pile of hair and eyes? Does she have a personality too? What do you do?"
"I don't know. We play tennis on weekends, as we've been doing for the past two years. We're usually at each other's houses after school, but only for a couple hours, because Dad would murder me if he found out. She's very snugly, and she has a thing about kissing my neck."
"Oh, Geir." Jan covers his mouth, half laughing. "Are you at least being safe?"
"What do you mean?"
The older man rolls his eyes. Shoving a hand into his back pocket, he pulls out his old wallet, unfolding it and taking out a small square packet. He flicks the item across the table, letting it fall onto his brother's lap. The younger boy looks down, then back up with eyes wide in shock.
"What is this?"
"It's a condom," Jan says slowly, as if he were teaching a five year old about the wonders of sex. "It's what you use so you don't get your girlfriend pregnant or catch little bugs from each other."
"But... No. We're not. No." He tries to hand the condom back to his brother, but the man won't take it. "Come on. We're not doing anything."
"Keep it anyway. If there's anything I know about my brother, it's that he can be quite charming when he's not intending to be. It never hurts to be prepared. Plus, you know, it's good for a couple years. I'm sure you'll use it at some point."
Sighing, Geir tucks it in his pocket. There's no way he could win this argument with his brother, so he might as well just give up now. Sitting with his drink to his lips, Geir strains to think of a good subject to switch to, so he settles upon saying nothing at all.
The two men sit in silence for a few minutes before Jan can't take it anymore. "Why are you so quiet? What's on your mind?"
"Nothing." Blue eyes glance into blue eyes, not daring to stare too long.
"Liar. Tell me what's wrong."
"Fine, I lied. Stuff's wrong, but I don't want to talk about it."
"Geir, you know that problems don't go away if you ignore them, right? It's like, if you hate your cat, you ignore it, and eventually it will die from lack of food and love, but then you have different problems from it, because now you have a rotting animal in your house. And then it's too late, the smell's there for a long time, and the people who did love the cat are upset."
"You killed Omen?" Geir's eyes grow wide, disturbed with this troubling thought.
"No, it was a metaphor. My dumb cat's doing fine." He puts his drink down, setting it aside for a time when his mouth is less busy. "Do you understand what I mean though? Did my explanation make sense?"
"It scared me, really. Were you trying to make me think you murdered your cat?"
"Of course I wasn't. That in itself would cause more problems, and I'm trying to help you get rid of your problems. What kind of a question is that? Ignore that. We need to stay on topic. What, prey tell, is on your mind?"
"I'll tell you another time. I don't want to get all upset before Christmas dinner. I'd have to tell everyone then, and I really don't want that."
"Alright, fine. I'll hold you to this though." Jan rubs a thumb against his eye, thinking about the possibilities. Maybe Geir has already impregnated Malin. That would explain a lot. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the girl. Maybe Geir's failing high school, and is really depressed and upset about it. No Zahl boy ever fails. They just don't.
"We should probably get back home." Geir stands up, leaving his half finished mocha to sit on the otherwise bare table. "Mom needs help with getting things ready for tonight, and she'd be upset if we didn't do anything."
---
"Jan, would you check on the turkey? Geir, for the love of god, please set the table." Their mother panics, realizing that her children have been sitting on the couch doing nothing for the better part of five minutes. "And Geir, would you mind wearing nicer clothes. We're in Norway, not America. Cowboys do not sit at our table."
"I'm not a cowboy." He frowns, crossing his arms. "I don't even have a hat." Pointing at his head, he says, "see!"
"I do see, yes. Now, take off your jeans and plaid shirt. Dress more like your brother. Go put on some proper clothes." She pats his bottom and shoos him off. As soon as he's out of sight, she turns to Jan, frowning and rubbing at her temple. "Does he seem different to you?"
"How do you mean?"
"I don't know." She sighs, dropping her hand to her side. "He's not as happy as he'd been a year ago. He's not talking to Boone anymore, which is a big one for me, because they were so close. He won't even tell me what happened between them. Geir's also come home drunk twice this year. Both times in the past couple months even. Do you think something's wrong? Do you think I'm failing as a parent? Oh god."
"Well, maybe you could let him pick his own clothes. That's all I can think your parenting skills could tweak on. He is seventeen after all. But yes, I do think something is wrong. He didn't even tell me any of this stuff."
"He tells you everything."
"Well that's what's worrying me now. He did admit that something was on his mind, but he wants to wait a little bit before telling me. I'm sure it's nothing too bad. Just teenage issues that he's dealing with in his own awkward way."
"I suppose. At least he's got himself a wonderful girlfriend. She'll be here soon actually. Yes, check the turkey. I'd hate to have a hospital trip tonight."
"Jesus Christ, that would be a nice story for my paper." He runs his hand through the air, as if creating imaginary words to float around. "Christmas Supper Food Poisoning Fiasco - Three Dead, Two Halfway There."
The woman covers her eyes. "Or I could write the story. Jan Zahl Dines Alone - Tragic Day for All."
"That would be tragic. Let's not publish that one." He grins and skips off to the kitchen.
"Ida," Anton, Geir and Jan's father, strides into the room, placing a kiss on his wife's cheek. "There's been a cancellation at Boha for tomorrow, I managed to get us a spot."
"We can't afford Boha." She tisks.
"It's Christmas in a few days and we haven't had a decent night alone in months. Jan leaves in the afternoon and Geir can take care of himself. Let me treat you." He kisses her again, and she smiles.
"Ugh, that's the last thing I wanted to see." Geir groans, running to answer the door. "Get a room, you two." He receives a small giggle from his mom, but she quiets down when she realizes it's Malin on the porch. "Hey come in," Geir greets her warmly.
"Turkey. Now," Jan orders as he pushes Geir behind him. "Hello," he thrusts out his right hand. "I'm Jan. You must be Malin. Let's go and get acquainted in the other room."
"Oh?" The girl gently shakes his hand, looking at her boyfriend with questioning eyes.
"Jan, leave her alone."
"I'll be kind. Don't get your knickers in a knot." He pulls the small brunette from her spot on their front steps, leading her into his old room.
Geir stands, greasy thermometer in hand, wondering what's happening and how he's supposed to cook a turkey.
"Come with me," his father gently turns him around. "I'll teach you how to cook this beast."
"But...Malin?"
---
"Geir," Malin says over a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "You never told me you used to dance."
The boy's eyes stare firmly at his fork, unable to move anywhere else for a moment. "Jan, you little fuck."
"Geir! Watch your mouth." Anton speaks loudly, smacking the back of his son's head.
Malin sits laughing. "I think it's cute."
"No. It's bad. It's very, very bad. You can't tell anyone." The brunette shakes his head as he reaches for a glass of water.
"Awe, why not? My boyfriend has some hidden talents, and in ballet nonetheless."
"I was six, okay. I did it for three years, loved it then, but realized what a loser it made me and stopped."
"That's really too bad. I think it's a special skill that sets you apart from most guys."
"You could always start again." Jan nudges him with his foot from across the table.
"Shut up."
"Language," His mother and father say in unison. He shies away, deciding his food might be a better thing to focus on.
---
"Geir?" Jan whispers, pulling his brother to the side for a moment.
"Hmm?"
"I know we said we wouldn't talk about this tonight, but I'm not sure I can hold it in."
"Jan, no."
"No, I'm serious. Do you actually like Malin?"
"Of course I do! What are you on about?"
"I mean, really like her? As a girlfriend, or potential life partner."
He pauses a moment, actually thinking this question through. "I don't know. Do I have to answer this now? Why is this so urgently important?"
"Because she likes you, I can see it in her eyes. The way she moves. The way she spoke about you when we were alone. Everything. But you, I just don't know. I mean, I can tell that you care about her, but you look like you're playing along. Like you're making things up as you go. And I know you're not going to like me for this conversation, especially now, but why are you with her?"
"I -" He closes his mouth, unable to think of a proper reason. He knows he's not being the worlds best boyfriend, but he can't exactly see where Jan is pulling this from. He hasn't done anything wrong as far as he can tell. "It just happened."
"Was it one of those 'Geir being charming when he's not intending to be' moments?"
"Yeah, sort of," he replies so quietly Jan almost can't hear him.
"And you're just too awkward to turn her down. Well great, this is a recipe for disaster. I knew something was off."
"But I like her. I really do. I mean, it's working so far. We get along, and we're happy."
"Uhuh, let's see how long you keep this up. Be gentle on her. She's too sweet for this kind of risky business." He places a hand on his taller brother's shoulder. "Did you at least get her something good for Christmas? You didn't get her a cat did you?"
"No, I got her a bird."
"You better not have."
"Of course I didn't. I got her a couple books that she mentioned she was looking for a few months ago and a tea set. She likes that kind of stuff."
"That sounds good. I mean, she's young enough to not catch on to the fact that you should maybe be buying her more jewellery type stuff. You sound like you'd rather just sit next to a fire than be pounding her into her sheets."
"Jan!"
"No, that's probably a good thing. Great choices."
"You're a terrible brother."
"I don't try that hard." He shrugs.
"Yeah, well maybe you should. You know nothing about what's been going on in my life lately. Maybe Malin is helping with that. Maybe she's making me happy. Yeah? So shut the fuck up."
"Geir," Jan whispers, pulling him into a hug. "I thought that this is what was wrong. How am I supposed to know if you won't tell me." He sighs into his brother, digging his face into the boy's shoulder. Suddenly, a thought comes to mind. "Oh my god."
"What?" He snaps, thoroughly unimpressed with his situation.
"The rumours are true."
"What rumours. Don't believe the rumours. No rumours are ever true, that's why they're called a rumour."
"You were raped, weren't you?"
"Get off me! Of course I wasn't fucking raped." Geir pushes away from the embrace, storming off to continue his Christmas festivities in a poor mood. So not how he intended to end his year.