Chapter 2
Ivar
He sighed; the studio apartment was not nearly as nice as it looked on the pictures he had seen online.
It was smaller than he had thought and it was hard to navigate through the narrow place with his wheelchair, and it was nearly impossible to use his wheelchair in the bathroom.
He decided that it wasn't such a big issue, since he had his crutches and leg braces- but then again, he sometimes had really bad days when he couldn't even keep himself on his legs for even the blink of an eye before falling over in excruciating pain.
And he hadn't even dared to think what would happen if he broke a bone and was bound to his wheelchair for several weeks again.
He pushed these grim thoughts away- he would deal with it when necessary.
For now, he hoped it would never be necessary (he knew how naive that was; even if he broke less bones now than he did as a child, he still regularly broke bones, especially when he ignored the warning signs and used his crutches on days when he should have used his wheelchair instead).
He moved his wheelchair to the bed on the far side of the room and hoisted himself from the wheelchair onto the bed with slight difficulty.
He groaned in pain as his body was moved in this way- the long flight had caused him more pain than he had realised until now.
He took in a few deep breaths to somehow deal with the pain a bit better (not that it ever really worked, but it was what his doctors had told him to do, so he did it anyway) before he slipped his phone out of his pocket once more.
He had told his mother that he would be alright, but it still hadn't stopped her from leaving six messages and two unanswered calls.
He chuckled to himself as he also saw the four messages from his third oldest sibling, two messages and one unanswered call from his oldest sibling (and only sister), eleven messages from his middle brother, and even three messages from his father.
He wasn't all too surprised to see no messages or calls from his other two brothers; they had never been too close after all, and he was quite sure that especially Sigurd (who was only ten months older than himself) wasn't sad about the fact that they weren't even on the same continent anymore.
He decided to call his middle brother back- it was almost four in the afternoon for him, which meat that it was ten in the morning at home, and his parents and siblings would probably all be at work; only his middle brother would probably skip another class right now and would answer his call right away.
The phone didn't even ring twice before his call was answered.
"Howdy Cowboy," his brother said with an exaggerated Texan accent.
Ivar huffed out a laugh. "I'm in New York City, you idiot. There are no cowboys here anywhere."
"Still more than in cold and icy Scandinavia, probably," his brother said and reciprocated his chuckle.
"It's September, even in Scandinavia," Ivar replied and laid back on his new bed. He right away noticed how uncomfortable the mattress was for his chronic backpain, but he fought the urge to wince or groan in pain- his brother didn't need to know everything right away.
"Still cold," his brother said and Ivar could practically see him shrugging, even though he was on the other side of the world.
"Fair enough," he huffed and managed to sit up with slight difficulties again; even though he was exhausted, laying down was too painful to handle right now.
He wondered how it came that he was in so much pain, when he suddenly realised that he had skipped taking his meds twice today.
Not only explained it his pain, it also was a bit dangerous for him.
His meds made sure that his bones weren't too fragile, but he also took several to keep the small heart failure he had been born with in check, and some that made sure that he wouldn't go blind and deaf so quickly (not as quickly as other people with his condition, anyway; he nontheless needed glasses if he actually wanted to see clearly and he was sure that even his hearing had gotten weaker over the years (he would have never talked about this to a doctor or his family because talking about it made it real, and he still hoped that he was imagining it)).
"Hey Hvits?" Ivar asked after the long break he had needed to contemplate about his own stupidity. "Can you just tell Mum and Dad and Ubbe and Gyda that I'm fine and I'll call them when I'm settled? I really need to rest."
"What about Bjørn and Sig?" Hvitserk asked, but his tone was a clear indicator that he already knew the answer.
"Do whatever you want," Ivar sighed. "They don't care about me anyway, so I don't care about them either."
"You have a wrong image of-"
"Ugh, can it, Hvits," Ivar groaned. "Not now. I'm tired."
"Alrighty," Hvitserk breathed out after a long moment of silence. "I'll let you rest then, now."
"Thanks."
"But Ivar?"
Ivar just hummed in response.
"Go eat something and take your meds," Hvitserk said, and he couldn't hide his worries in his voice.
Ivar's brows furrowed. "How do you-"
"I know you, little brother," Hvitserk chuckled.
Ivar reciprocated the chuckle softly. "Right... but Hvits?"
"Hm?"
"I know you, too. So get out of bed and stop skipping classes. You're too old for this shit. And now that I'm not there anymore, there is no one that distracts the family from you. They'll all have big expectations."
Hvisterk snorted out a laugh. "I'm sure they realised many years ago that they cannot expect much from me."
"Stop whining and get your ass out of bed!" Ivar ordered firmly, but still in a loving tone then.
"Alright," Hvitserk snickered in response. "And you get some food and your meds in your system."
Ivar sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "I'll see what I can do."
Matt
"He's nice," Foggy stated with a smile as they waited in front of the administration office for their newest acquaintance to come out again. "I like him."
Matt grimaced. "He's a bit weird, isn't he?"
"So am I," Foggy chuckled and shrugged. "Besides, I wouldn't call you completely sane either."
"I was raised in a Catholic orphanage!" Matt bit back playfully. "There was no chance I would be normal."
"Oh, the orphan card? Really, Matthew?" Foggy teased, but before he could finish, the door to the office opened again and the lanky Brit who always kept his head ducked came out again.
"Got the key?" Foggy asked, and only got a sharp nod in return. He smiled. "Good, let's have some food then."
"We literally just ate," Matt chuckled and clumsily reached out to grab Foggy's elbow again.
"So what?" Foggy huffed out in amusement. "We need to show Newt the best food places on campus after all." He turned to look at Newt. "Are you ready? It's gonna be an amazing tour!"
Matt didn't need sight to know that the lanky Brit blushed crimson read; from all he had gathered, his new acquaintance was the epitome of being shy and awkward.
"Foggy..." Matt sighed. "You can't just force people to come with you. I'm sure Newt doesn't want to-"
"Actually, I'd like that very much," Newt brought out, his voice wobbly and barely above a whisper. "I, er, I don't really know anyone in New York. You seem nice." He looked up to Foggy for the first time and gave him a shy smile.
Foggy returned the smile, but his was way broader; and before either Newt or Matt could stop him, he had clasped Newt's shoulder and Matt's arm and had pulled both of them with him.
"Now, my friend, I'll introduce you to the culinary specialties of our beloved alma mater," he said proudly as he dragged his best friend and his new acquaintance out into the broad sunlight of this September afternoon.
The sun burned on Matt's skin, and he knew exactly that the other two were blinking into the sunlight and could probably see hardly more than him in the very moment.
"So, where are we going?" He asked Foggy conversationally (the fact that he was concerned that his friend who relied fully on his sight wouldn't be able to find the right way as he surely kept squeezing his eyes in the too bright light was only part of why he was asking).
"Oh, my friend, we're going everywhere!" Foggy said excitedly, but stopped then suddenly in his tracks to scan Newt once again.
Both Matt and Newt (who Foggy was still closely holding onto) were completely caught off guard by the sudden stop and almost stumbled.
"Why are we stopping?" Matt asked completely confused and with two lifted eyebrows. "Aren't we going to get food anymore? Or are we there already?" He turned his head from left to right as if he was trying to see where they were (he obviously didn't see a thing).
"No," Foggy chuckled. "I just realised that Newt is still carrying all of his luggage."
"Luggage?" Matt asked.
"Yeah, he has a suitcase and a backpack with him," Foggy explained matter of factly. "And the suitcase looks antique."
He furrowed his brows before he turned to Newt again and pointed at the suitcase. "Is that what you guys use over there in England?"
Again, Matt didn't need sight to know that Newt cringed- his hesitant and shy answer was enough to know that.
"N-no," the Brit mumbled. "It's what I use."
"Fair enough," Foggy huffed out in amusement. "So do you want to bring that to your dorm before getting something to eat or..."
"No, it's fine like this," Newt mumbled shyly. "I can just carry it with me."
Matt could almost feel Foggy frown, but eventually his friend shrugged (which he could actually feel because Foggy was still holding onto his arm) and their journey continued.
"There's this really cool pizza place," Foggy announced as they walked; and while he had let go off Newt after some time (which made the Brit visibly relax), he kept Matt close to him as he guided him over the crowded campus.
"Do you like Pizza, Newt?" He asked, but immediately cracked a laugh. "Of course, you do! Everyone does!"
Once again, Matt didn't need sight to know that Newt cringed. Foggy was even a lot to take for him on most days and they had been best friends for six years now, so he didn't even want to think about what a shy new student from another country felt like.
"Let's take it easy, Fog," he mumbled quietly to his friend and hoped that Newt wouldn't hear him; he didn't want to offend the other man right after meeting him.
He had to admit that- even though he still thought that his new acquaintance was a rather strange person- he liked him.
The guys seemed nice enough and wasn't immediately scared away by Foggy's enthusiasm and his own blindness (the duo of them didn't exactly attract new friends- besides Karen- and so it was nice to get to know someone who didn't immediately tell them to fuck off).
Loki
He didn't even make it close to his own door before he was once again distracted by the guy in the wheelchair- only that he wasn't using a wheelchair anymore, but a pair of crutches as he hobbled down the hallway of the apartment building.
The man seemed to be just about Loki's age and something about him- not even that he had come with a suitcase- told Loki that he was not from New York.
He considered to just walk past the man for a short moment, but he found something very intriguing about him, and before he had even thought it through, he stopped on the hallway just a few steps away from the other man.
"Hey," he said quickly and even managed to put a smile on his face, despite how bad his day had been. "My name's Loki. I live in 4B. Did you just move in?"
He was completely shocked by himself- did he like talking usually, so was he still not the one to start conversations with random people he met on the street (or in the hallway) usually.
In fact, he knew not one of his neighbours by name; he just called them crazy cat lady or bad cap weirdo when he was thinking about them (which he wasn't very often, to be fair).
The other man stopped in his tracks and looked up at Loki after he had focused his gaze mostly on the dirty grey carpet underneath them before.
He seemed to need a second to decipher Loki's for once genuinely good intentions and honest smile, but then he smiled back.
"Hi," the stranger with the crutches said and nodded to him. "My name's Ivar, and yes, I've just moved in. 4D."
"Ivar?" Loki asked (again, before he could stop himself; he didn't know why he was suddenly so eager to make conversation with a complete stranger).
Ivar nodded. "Yeah. I know it's a weird name around here. But- for a fact- I don't consider Loki very common either. Sounds more like a name from where I'm from."
"Where are you from?" Loki asked, and he had by now also detected the slightest bit of an accent in Ivar's voice and he was quite sure that he had placed it right (he fought hard to suppress an excited smile; just because he rarely ever met people from his home country, he didn't need to come off as a total creep right away).
Ivar chuckled politely and shifted his weight on his crutches. "That's actually a hard question to answer."
Loki reciprocated his chuckle. "Just try," he said encouragingly then, and he questioned his own sanity- when had he ever really cared where a random stranger came from?
"Well, my mum's from Sweden, but was raised in Norway. My dad's from Norway, but spent half his life in England. My oldest two siblings were born in Norway and halfway raised in Norway and halfway raised in Denmark. My other siblings and I were born in Denmark and grew up in Denmark, Norway, France and England. I've also lived in Belarus for some time, but before I came here, I lived in Denmark. So pick one, I guess."
Loki snorted a laugh. "Well, you've told me it was a hard question to answer. You didn't disappoint, that's for sure."
Ivar gave him a lopsided grin. "I guess I'm Scandinavian, raised in Europe."
Loki reciprocated the grin. "That I can work with."
"Where are you from?" Ivar asked then and it seemed like he was really interested in the answer. "You're not from here, are you? I mean, originally."
Loki chuckled a bit uncomfortably and drove his hand through his shoulder long hair- only now he realised that the man across from him had shoulder long hair as well, but he had it tied into something like a man bun on the back of his head.
"I, er, I don't actually know where exactly I was born or where my biological parents are from. My parents got me from a orphanage in Finland way up north where it's freezing and snowing all year long when I was an infant, but no one knew if I was actually Finnish. I was raised in Denmark, anyway. That means until I was nine years old. We moved to New York then, so I like to think of myself as someone from here when I'm asked."
"But you're not," Ivar concluded and by the way he said it and by the way his eyes glimmered in the sunlight coming in from a window of the far side of the hallway, Loki felt no judgment, but a certain understanding that he had rarely ever felt from anyone before.
"I'm not," he agreed with a shy smile now.
"And you speak Danish," Ivar more stated than asked. "Så kunne vi godt snakke dansk med hinanden?"
Loki could feel his eyes grow to the size of the moon and he only stared at Ivar for a moment that was long enough for the other man to crack a laugh as he shifted his weight on his crutches once again (it made Loki wonder if he was uncomfortable or even in pain, but they were not close enough for him to ask this question- yet).
"Didn't you say you've been raised in Denmark?" Ivar asked somewhat teasingly.
"Well, yes," Loki mumbled and suddenly felt himself getting more and more insecure. "But I've moved to the states in third grade."
"What? You're telling me your family doesn't speak Danish?" Ivar asked genuinely surprised. "I can't believe any proud Dane would ever ditch their language like this."
Loki chuckled a bit more comfortably as he realised that Ivar was just teasing him. "Well, my parents and sister surely didn't. They still speak Danish all the time. But my brother and I... we mostly speak English. We understand Danish, of course, but I don't like speaking it very much to be honest."
"Fair enough," Ivar said with a grin and again shifted on his crutches. "My siblings and I also speak a lot of English to each other. My father does, too. We've actually used to have that British Au Pair guy when we've lived all over Scandinavia who taught us English."
Loki grinned back. "And because you're fluent you've decided to come to the States now?"
"Well, actually," Ivar began and shifted again on his crutches until he winced in pain (he tried to hide it, but Loki could immediately hear it). Ivar breathed heavily.
"Sorry, I'm just... just not used to standing for very long with these things." He nudged his head towards the braces around his legs. "They're still quite new. Actually, the crutches are as well."
"Oh, you've been in an accident?" Loki asked and immediately regretted it- it was really none of his business, but to his surprise, Ivar simply shrugged and shook his head, but smiled (even if it was strained).
"Not really. I have osteogenisis imperfecta."
Again, Loki could feel his eyes extend and he felt extremely dumb.
But Ivar simply chuckled. "I'm not surprised you don't know that. Or the term at least. It's not very common, but you've probably heard about brittle bone disease?"
Loki nodded.
"That's it," Ivar said then and shrugged again. "My bones are brittle and shatter like glass. I've always had it, and besides all the fractures and the chronic pain..."
He sighed, but it ended in him snorting a laugh. "No, there's nothing positive about it. I've really tried to find something, but I just can't. It's shit."
Loki bit his lip and averted his gaze shyly- he had no idea how to react to someone telling him about their messed up health like this, especially if that person was just about his age and not the age of his grandparents.
"That, er, sounds pretty bad," he mumbled insecurely. "If you, er... ever need help... I don't know, like carry your groceries or what... I'm in 4B."
Ivar smiled thankfully at him as Loki looked back up. "That's nice, but I get my groceries delivered. But you could still help me, actually."
Loki nodded eagerly, slightly more relaxed now. "Shoot."
"I really need advice on where to get some good pizza around here," he chuckled. "I need to take some meds soon, and I need food before that. And I really feel like pizza right now."
Loki chuckled back. "It's too bad you're no student at Columbia because then-"
"I actually am," Ivar interrupted him.
Loki's eyes extended once again. "You are?" He asked in surprise. "Like... since this year?"
"Yeah, I'm one of the exchange students," Ivar confirmed and nodded eagerly. "That's why I moved here."
Loki's face practically lit up (even if he tried to hide it, but he really liked that guy). "That's perfect, man. I know just the perfect pizza place on campus then. I can show you. They literally have the best pizza in the whole of New York and they're so cheap. You'll love it there."
"Is it close?" Ivar asked and made a slight grimace. "I can't really walk very far. So if it's not close... I'd just get my wheelchair again."
"It's just down the street and then right in the front of the campus. It's not far, but I can wait if you want to get your wheelchair," Loki offered quickly. He couldn't explain why, but he really wanted this stranger- Ivar- to be comfortable.
Ivar shook his head. "No, no, it's alright. I'll be fine. But thanks. Just, er... walk slow, please? I can't keep up if people walk too quickly.".
Loki nodded eagerly. "No worries. I'll be slow."
"Perfect," Ivar said with a lopsided grin. "Lead the way."
Newt
"You have to try the pepperoni pizza, Newt," Foggy said excitedly as they stood in the queue to order their meals.
"No, it's far too strong," Matt huffed out. "Not everyone has broken taste buds like you, Foggy." Matt said and poked Foggy in the side several times.
Foggy squeaked and took a step back which almost made Matt stumble because the resistance against his poking was suddenly gone.
Foggy snickered and caught Matt before he could actually tumble over. "And not everyone is as sensitive as you are. I'm sure Newt likes pepperoni pizza, don't you, Newt?"
Foggy turned to look at Newt and Newt could feel himself practically shrink under the scrutinising eyes of the stranger.
"I, er..." He stammered shyly and felt himself blush scarlet red. "Actually, I don't eat meat."
"Huh," Foggy hummed. "So you're vegetarian?"
Newt nodded quickly and for a short moment, he wasn't sure if his new acquaintance was upset now, but Foggy just continued completely relaxed, so Newt let out a relieved breath.
Not everyone was so chilled when he told them that he didn't eat meat- even though he didn't understand why a stranger could possibly be upset about his eating habits. They were his after all, and he didn't harm anyone with it.
"That's cool," Foggy said and turned to look at the menu hanging on the wall. "I'm sure they have great meatless-options. I think I've tried the champignon one once and it was quite good. You want to try that?"
He turned back to Newt, and once again, Newt felt the blush creep up his neck.
"I, er, I don't really like champignons very much."
"What about the spinach one then?" Foggy asked (and Newt was surprised by how cool he was with the whole situation; he was used to being yelled at for being picky, but Foggy and Matt where completely relaxed).
"Gross," Matt muttered mostly to himself, but the others had heard it.
Foggy rolled his eyes and sighed (in a very exaggerated and teasing manner). "It's not your choice, Matthew. Let Newt decide what he wants."
Both New Yorkers turned to look at Newt (or in Matt's case, he turned into Newt's general direction) and waited for his response.
"I, er..." Newt stammered again. He was already sure that after this disaster the duo wouldn't want to talk to him ever again; he was just too complicated.
"I don't like spinach very much either. I know I'm complicated and annoying, and you two probably-"
"You're not annoying," Foggy interrupted him with a chuckle. "And I wouldn't call you complicated." He turned to pull Matt into a one-armed hug. "As for this one..."
Matt wriggled out of Foggy's half-hug and furrowed his brows at him (which was only halfway visible under his dark red lenses).
"I'm not complicated, Foggy. I just have sensitive taste buds and your taste in food is disgusting."
He turned into Newt's general direction and shrugged with a sigh. "He eats everything, really. Like a garbage can."
"Hey!" Foggy protested and now it was his turn to poke Matt until his friend took a few rather uncoordinated steps back and almost bumped into another customer.
The two friends broke into laughter as Foggy pulled Matt back into the line and rested an arm around his shoulders.
They practically beamed at Newt with happiness and good spirit, and it even made Newt smirk back the shyest, smallest smirk (it was the most honest smirk he had felt on his face in a long time, though).
"So, what do you like?" Foggy asked Newt after he had caught his breath again.
Newt shuffled his feet and averted his gaze once again.
He had the hand that wasn't occupied with carrying his heavy suitcase stuck deeply into the pocket of his too thick coat and he kept rubbing his fingers over the material in order to soothe himself (it usually worked perfectly, but when he was in the spotlight like this, even his favourite stimming mechanisms reached their limits).
"Huh?" Foggy asked after Newt had taken a bit too long to answer, and he nudged Newt's shoulder softly.
Newt drew in a sharp breath and looked up at Foggy in panic; he wasn't used to being touched by a practical stranger like this- the only times he had ever been touched by strangers was when he had been beaten up by the older students in school, and it was something he didn't want to relive).
Foggy seemed to sense Newt's panic right away and he grimaced. "Sorry, I, er... I'm sorry..."
Newt bit his lip and looked down again; he could still feel Foggy stare at him and Matt frown because he apparently didn't exactly know what had happened right in front of him.
"I, er, I like cheese pizza," Netw mumbled then. "Just plain cheese pizza."
"Oh, that's great," Foggy said, still a bit uncomfortable. "They have good cheese pizza. I usually get it at the end of the month when I'm broke." He chuckled (only a bit more relaxed) and then it was already their turn to order their food.