“He couldn’t even look at his parents faces after that. I swear to the gods, master students are just undergraduates on crack.” You rambled lightheartedly, phone on one of your hands and the heavy luggage rolling right next to you. “Oop, sorry.” You apologised to the old, white bearded man attempting to leave the building at the same time you tried to get in. “Thank you.” You mouthed with a smile and a scrunched nose, trying to look past the dark sunglasses of the man holding the door for you.
Ubbe released a short and breathy laugh. You could not see him, but you knew him well enough to notice he sounded way too distracted to formulate a proper answer to your anecdote. You knew he had things to tell you, bubbling under the surface like water about to boil, waiting patiently for you to finish with what you had to say as he always did.
Part of you already knew what he wanted to ask. As much as you loved Ubbe, his drive was wired the same way as all Lothbroks: business, business, business. Sure, he was located in the HR department and understood the way you saw things. But, as a Ragnarsson, he could not see your desire of avoiding a life between cubicles and constant phonecalls.
“Well,” you exhaled, “I’m officially back home.”
“In which hotel are you staying? I can pay you a visit as soon as I finish with these papers.” You could picture him letting go the papers on the table like white pigeons as he casually leaned back against his chair. You waited for the lift, eyes focused on the flicking numbers above your head.
Ubbe knew about your never recovered relationship with your parents. They never called you back, not even after the success of your new business was announced through local and regional media. Although for them, the news of you working for another sector other than theirs after the humiliation they had to endure at your graduation party may have felt like a slap in their faces. No one assisted to your masters graduation other than your remaining English friends. You did receive heartwarming messages from Aslaug and her sons, who apologised for not being there with you. It was a lonely ending for such an important stage of your life, but you swiftly got through it. Soon enough you got into a graduate scheme at the British council and a big part of you was relieved that you got to spend another year without facing the problems awaiting for you in Kattegat.
Now you had consumed all your borrowed time, leaving you drowning in the sterile sand clock you got yourself into, unable to put down roots in your hometown after your parents decided to pull them all out.
“Hotel Boneless and Co.” You mumbled through a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms up and puffing your chest as you heard the ding of the machine and the pop of your bones. You were carefully rolling your suitcase into the mirror covered lift when you heard the wheels of a chair rolling loudly on the other line. “I can send you my location if you don’t know where it is.” You joked as you pressed a button and stepped out of the lift.
It took your family an entire week to contact you. By the time they called to request a meeting through their personal assistant, you had settled yourself in one of Floki’s hotel rooms: the good man not only had a shipbuilding company, he also owned a few hotels in different parts of the world. Him and Helga offered you a small room in their Kattegat resort while you solved your dispute with your parents. Floki understood you, he wasn’t the type who stayed in one place for a long time either. He himself was lost somewhere in Iceland, away from your family and the Ragnarssons. He wanted to create something big, he said.
The little hotel room, although located in the high street of the city where the lights and noise never dies, made you feel locked like a bird in a cage, imprisoned. The panoramic windows were like force fields that separated you from reality: the city veins kept working regardless of your absence, as you stared down helplessly with no restraints that kept you from leaving but no reasons for you to step outside. There was nothing there that indicated your existence, nothing that gave you the reassurance of a home. The gold and white walls screamed luxury, while your surroundings screamed loneliness.
A/N: One thing I want to make clear with the creation of this one shot is that, regardless of what this blog is supposed to be, the final decision on the content you’ll see in this blog falls upon this bitch. I tag my all content and reblogs so you guys can blacklist what you see fit. It’s what you get when you follow me, and I will understand when it comes to a point you won’t want me around your dashboard. However, that process is silent, fuss free. No need to make a big deal out of it. I don’t need no loud anon commenting on what I should or I should not post. Let’s keep this place negativity free, aight? Love you guys xx
Its bright. The warm lights, hanging down the high ceilings and falling down like crystal waterfalls shining like fairy dust, their shimmering accentuated every now and then by a camera flashing around the room. The music playing in the background sounded like the product of classicism and modern era clashing together, with the clinking sound of champagne glasses cutting the melody to celebrate your new milestone. Your family and closest friends gathered in the very centre of the hall, their polished tuxedos and flowy dresses giving away a clear statement of their wealth and power. Tonight, they were all here for you.
Yet, you didn’t feel like part of it. Part of your own party.
