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Description
Static
NorwayxReader
Request for BehindNewEyes
It always amused you how people changed. Society in itself was constantly evolving and the people around you were developing characters. There was only one exception to this rule of the world, and that was the ever stoic Lukas Bondevik.
A static companion in a world where the leads were ever changing. But Lukas was a constant in your life, one you could rely on and always look forward to even when it seemed like everything around you was collapsing.
Somehow, Lukas managed to stick with you through all of your own changes from this phase to that one, from one interest to another, despite the instability of your emotions.
But one day, you static became dynamic.
It started the week before your second year finals. He began wearing reading glasses when he was studying, complaining the small font hurt his eyes. Then he stopped meeting up with you between classes, leaving you alone with Mathias and eventually Gilbert. You were losing your best friend, and you didn’t know how to stop the change.
The two of you were still friends, however, just never as close as you were throughout your adolescent years and, as graduation crept closer, you feared you’d lose him forever. You signed each other’s yearbooks and kept his phone number on your contact list, but by the end of your first year at university you had lost touch with the Norwegian boy completely.
You made other friends and managed new interests, never having the chance to look back with nostalgia on your younger years until Christmas break of your second year. You and a few friends had gotten together for a holiday celebration the night before everyone left to return to their hometowns for the holidays, and you had each brought your high school yearbooks to look back and share stories.
It was a fun night, full of laughter and drinking as you flipped each page and scanned for faces you recognized. This girl was your biology partner your freshman year, this boy kissed you during a game of spin the bottle the summer you had been 17, this kid crashed into your mother’s car at the supermarket. You turned the final page, giggles lingering from the story of your first very awkward kiss with a girl, and saw the beginning of the signature pages.
Grinning, you and your friends traced your fingers over the sharpie messages, fingers lingering over sentiments and phone numbers. You smiled long after everyone had left and picked up your old yearbook again. Running a finger down the spine, a wave of nostalgia hit you and you flipped back to the signatures.
Right there, written neatly in cursive in an ultra fine-tipped blue sharpie, was a short little message and a phone number written in case you broke your phone (again). You had always had a bad habit of maintaining phones in your childhood.
Rubbing your thumb lightly over the number, you imagined you could still feel the warmth on the book from where Lukas’s hand ran over the page. You wondered where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. If the little things about him had continued to change until he became an entirely different person. If he had a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a pet.
Deciding not to just allow your thoughts to run and questions to settle, you picked up your phone and dialed the number.
It was a voice only slightly tainted by grogginess from sleep, but you knew it all the same.
And you didn’t need to wonder anymore.

Description
Static
NorwayxReader
Request for BehindNewEyes
It always amused you how people changed. Society in itself was constantly evolving and the people around you were developing characters. There was only one exception to this rule of the world, and that was the ever stoic Lukas Bondevik.
A static companion in a world where the leads were ever changing. But Lukas was a constant in your life, one you could rely on and always look forward to even when it seemed like everything around you was collapsing.
Somehow, Lukas managed to stick with you through all of your own changes from this phase to that one, from one interest to another, despite the instability of your emotions.
But one day, you static became dynamic.
It started the week before your second year finals. He began wearing reading glasses when he was studying, complaining the small font hurt his eyes. Then he stopped meeting up with you between classes, leaving you alone with Mathias and eventually Gilbert. You were losing your best friend, and you didn’t know how to stop the change.
The two of you were still friends, however, just never as close as you were throughout your adolescent years and, as graduation crept closer, you feared you’d lose him forever. You signed each other’s yearbooks and kept his phone number on your contact list, but by the end of your first year at university you had lost touch with the Norwegian boy completely.
You made other friends and managed new interests, never having the chance to look back with nostalgia on your younger years until Christmas break of your second year. You and a few friends had gotten together for a holiday celebration the night before everyone left to return to their hometowns for the holidays, and you had each brought your high school yearbooks to look back and share stories.
It was a fun night, full of laughter and drinking as you flipped each page and scanned for faces you recognized. This girl was your biology partner your freshman year, this boy kissed you during a game of spin the bottle the summer you had been 17, this kid crashed into your mother’s car at the supermarket. You turned the final page, giggles lingering from the story of your first very awkward kiss with a girl, and saw the beginning of the signature pages.
Grinning, you and your friends traced your fingers over the sharpie messages, fingers lingering over sentiments and phone numbers. You smiled long after everyone had left and picked up your old yearbook again. Running a finger down the spine, a wave of nostalgia hit you and you flipped back to the signatures.
Right there, written neatly in cursive in an ultra fine-tipped blue sharpie, was a short little message and a phone number written in case you broke your phone (again). You had always had a bad habit of maintaining phones in your childhood.
Rubbing your thumb lightly over the number, you imagined you could still feel the warmth on the book from where Lukas’s hand ran over the page. You wondered where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. If the little things about him had continued to change until he became an entirely different person. If he had a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a pet.
Deciding not to just allow your thoughts to run and questions to settle, you picked up your phone and dialed the number.
It was a voice only slightly tainted by grogginess from sleep, but you knew it all the same.
And you didn’t need to wonder anymore.