Isak Gunnar Cederström (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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muserevival2016-09-20 03:09 pm
isak_cederstrom) wrote in muserevival2016-09-20 03:09 pm
Entry tags:
mr #126.1 | Lyrics
"Nobody knows,
Nobody knows but me
That I sometimes cry.
If I could pretend that I'm asleep
When my tears start to fall ..
I peek out from behind these walls
I think nobody knows."
- Nobody Knows, P!nk
It had been a day since Isak had arrived back in Stockholm. Elina, the wonderful sister that she was, had picked him up from the airport and taken him back to her place. They were barely through the doorway when he dragged himself to the guest room, chucked his stuff off to the side, and fell onto the bed. By the time his head hit the pillow, he was already half-way asleep, an exhaled snore escaping him as he made contact with the mattress.
He was fairly certain he heard his sister say something, possibly put a blanket over him, but he was so lost in the fog of sleep that he could not be entirely sure. It was four or so hours later that he was woken by the text sound on his phone. It happened once, then another time, then a third. He opened one eye and let out a grumble as he rummaged in his pocket for his phone, still wearing the clothes he'd put on that morning before the flight. He squinted at the eyeball-melting light of the screen and saw that it had been his brother, Elis. He turned the sound off, unlocked the phone, lowered the brightness, and opened up his texts to see what Elis had said. There were a few of them. The first two came about an hour after he had gotten to Elina's house, asking if he had landed and whether he was at their sister's house.
har du landat ännu?
är du med elina?
Then there was a break of three hours between the next three texts.
varför är du inte svara mig?
har du gått för att se far?
jag tror inte att han gör bra, isak....
Apparently Elis seemed to think that their father was not doing well. That could have meant a variety of things, but -- did he think that their father would die? Although the bitter, abused part of Isak had hoped that such a fate was in store for the patriarch of their family, the kinder side had felt guilty about the thought. Hearing the same kind of thought from his brother was enough to make Isak shiver from head to toe.
He shifted in the bed, rolling onto his back. He held the phone up over his face with both hands, reading and re-reading the words over and over again. He began typing a response, then stopped and deleted it. He did this a few times before Elis texted again.
bara säga vad du vill säga, broder. jag kan se dig hålla radera vad du skriver.
Isak let out a sigh. He forgot that the three little dots showed up whenever he typed and disappeared whenever he deleted. He finally began to write back.
Förlåt. Jag är här.
He paused for a long while, imagining his brother on the other end, staring at his phone in the same way. If it were a movie scene, they would be shown at the same time with a line separating the two, their faces dully illuminated by the light of their phones. Isak bit his lip as he let out a steadying sigh, the stinging of tears slowly starting to prick the back of his eyes.
Tror du att han kommer att .. dö?
The three dots for his brother appeared and disappeared a number of times. Isak could feel his anxiety grow with each passing second. The tears were now starting to force their way to the rims of his eyes, his blinking causing a few to fall back towards his temples. There was a thickness in his throat that made him feel like breath was precious and scarce, and he rested his phone down on his chest as the tears spilled, uncontrollable. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes as his body shook, trying to stay as quiet as possible to avoid arousing the suspicion of his sister. She needed her sleep as badly as he did, and he would have felt awful if his blubbering had been the reason she'd woken up.
He used one hand to cover his mouth as he slowly exhaled a quivering breath, just as his phone buzzed against him. Sniffling and wiping away his tears, he opened the message.
jag vet inte. men det verkar troligt.
It seemed likely, Elis said. Isak could not tell if his tears were ones of joy or ones of sadness. His mind felt like it was buzzing in his skull. The man who had sent Isak away in an attempt to keep the children apart, the demon who had stolen their childhoods and the beautiful, loving woman their mother used to be ... could be vanquished. And not by any heroic feat but something as small and ordinary as a heart attack. It was too much for Isak to process. Too much for him to try and think about in his exhausted, sleep-deprived state.
He pressed the button on the side of his phone to shut the screen off and inhaled deeply, placing it on the nightstand. He stared at the ceiling through his saline-burned eyes for a few moments before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding his way down the hall to his sister's room. He quietly and carefully opened the door and glanced at the sleeping form, hidden under a mound of blankets. He smiled to himself for a brief second to see that she still, even as an adult, liked to sleep with more blankets than what seemed humanly possible.
Closing the door behind him, he tiptoed his way towards her and slid under the covers, suddenly feeling like the little boy he had once been who let his siblings sleep with him when they were afraid. How many nights had he been unable to sleep, listening to the soft sounds of his brother and sister's breathing, their innocent murmurs? How many times had he been kicked awake by a stray foot or slapped with a flung hand? Those were some of his fondest memories, even if they were rooted in their fear.
Only now, it was he who was afraid. He knew that it was strange, but all he wanted was for someone -- anyone -- to hold him close and tell him that, regardless of what was to happen, things would be all right. Somehow, things would be okay. The distant, detached persona he had tried so hard to maintain had all but crumbled, leaving behind the scared, frightened child that still lived inside of him, that still yearned for a parent's love that would never come.
He kept a little distance between he and his sister, laying on his side to face her. He reached out and brushed the hair away from her face, seeing echoes of the little girl she used to be in her face. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips. They had not really changed since they were young. They had gotten older, certainly, but they were very much the same.
Listening to the familiar sounds of his sister's breathing, Isak felt his lids grow heavy. He tried to keep them open but found himself unable to do so. He eventually met sleep once again, feeling for the first time in a long while that he could finally get some rest.
Word Count | 1231
Nobody knows but me
That I sometimes cry.
If I could pretend that I'm asleep
When my tears start to fall ..
I peek out from behind these walls
I think nobody knows."
- Nobody Knows, P!nk
It had been a day since Isak had arrived back in Stockholm. Elina, the wonderful sister that she was, had picked him up from the airport and taken him back to her place. They were barely through the doorway when he dragged himself to the guest room, chucked his stuff off to the side, and fell onto the bed. By the time his head hit the pillow, he was already half-way asleep, an exhaled snore escaping him as he made contact with the mattress.
He was fairly certain he heard his sister say something, possibly put a blanket over him, but he was so lost in the fog of sleep that he could not be entirely sure. It was four or so hours later that he was woken by the text sound on his phone. It happened once, then another time, then a third. He opened one eye and let out a grumble as he rummaged in his pocket for his phone, still wearing the clothes he'd put on that morning before the flight. He squinted at the eyeball-melting light of the screen and saw that it had been his brother, Elis. He turned the sound off, unlocked the phone, lowered the brightness, and opened up his texts to see what Elis had said. There were a few of them. The first two came about an hour after he had gotten to Elina's house, asking if he had landed and whether he was at their sister's house.
har du landat ännu?
är du med elina?
Then there was a break of three hours between the next three texts.
varför är du inte svara mig?
har du gått för att se far?
jag tror inte att han gör bra, isak....
Apparently Elis seemed to think that their father was not doing well. That could have meant a variety of things, but -- did he think that their father would die? Although the bitter, abused part of Isak had hoped that such a fate was in store for the patriarch of their family, the kinder side had felt guilty about the thought. Hearing the same kind of thought from his brother was enough to make Isak shiver from head to toe.
He shifted in the bed, rolling onto his back. He held the phone up over his face with both hands, reading and re-reading the words over and over again. He began typing a response, then stopped and deleted it. He did this a few times before Elis texted again.
bara säga vad du vill säga, broder. jag kan se dig hålla radera vad du skriver.
Isak let out a sigh. He forgot that the three little dots showed up whenever he typed and disappeared whenever he deleted. He finally began to write back.
Förlåt. Jag är här.
He paused for a long while, imagining his brother on the other end, staring at his phone in the same way. If it were a movie scene, they would be shown at the same time with a line separating the two, their faces dully illuminated by the light of their phones. Isak bit his lip as he let out a steadying sigh, the stinging of tears slowly starting to prick the back of his eyes.
Tror du att han kommer att .. dö?
The three dots for his brother appeared and disappeared a number of times. Isak could feel his anxiety grow with each passing second. The tears were now starting to force their way to the rims of his eyes, his blinking causing a few to fall back towards his temples. There was a thickness in his throat that made him feel like breath was precious and scarce, and he rested his phone down on his chest as the tears spilled, uncontrollable. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes as his body shook, trying to stay as quiet as possible to avoid arousing the suspicion of his sister. She needed her sleep as badly as he did, and he would have felt awful if his blubbering had been the reason she'd woken up.
He used one hand to cover his mouth as he slowly exhaled a quivering breath, just as his phone buzzed against him. Sniffling and wiping away his tears, he opened the message.
jag vet inte. men det verkar troligt.
It seemed likely, Elis said. Isak could not tell if his tears were ones of joy or ones of sadness. His mind felt like it was buzzing in his skull. The man who had sent Isak away in an attempt to keep the children apart, the demon who had stolen their childhoods and the beautiful, loving woman their mother used to be ... could be vanquished. And not by any heroic feat but something as small and ordinary as a heart attack. It was too much for Isak to process. Too much for him to try and think about in his exhausted, sleep-deprived state.
He pressed the button on the side of his phone to shut the screen off and inhaled deeply, placing it on the nightstand. He stared at the ceiling through his saline-burned eyes for a few moments before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding his way down the hall to his sister's room. He quietly and carefully opened the door and glanced at the sleeping form, hidden under a mound of blankets. He smiled to himself for a brief second to see that she still, even as an adult, liked to sleep with more blankets than what seemed humanly possible.
Closing the door behind him, he tiptoed his way towards her and slid under the covers, suddenly feeling like the little boy he had once been who let his siblings sleep with him when they were afraid. How many nights had he been unable to sleep, listening to the soft sounds of his brother and sister's breathing, their innocent murmurs? How many times had he been kicked awake by a stray foot or slapped with a flung hand? Those were some of his fondest memories, even if they were rooted in their fear.
Only now, it was he who was afraid. He knew that it was strange, but all he wanted was for someone -- anyone -- to hold him close and tell him that, regardless of what was to happen, things would be all right. Somehow, things would be okay. The distant, detached persona he had tried so hard to maintain had all but crumbled, leaving behind the scared, frightened child that still lived inside of him, that still yearned for a parent's love that would never come.
He kept a little distance between he and his sister, laying on his side to face her. He reached out and brushed the hair away from her face, seeing echoes of the little girl she used to be in her face. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips. They had not really changed since they were young. They had gotten older, certainly, but they were very much the same.
Listening to the familiar sounds of his sister's breathing, Isak felt his lids grow heavy. He tried to keep them open but found himself unable to do so. He eventually met sleep once again, feeling for the first time in a long while that he could finally get some rest.
Word Count | 1231