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The first time Lars saw his father cutting himself, he was only 10. He was just walking past the bathroom to head to his bedroom, when he saw that his father had left the door open. There he was, stood at the sink, slicing at his arm with a razor. As if it were just another tuesday. It felt a little scary to see, but his father seemed so nonchalant about it. Like it was just a chore. Just a part of the daily routine.
Gus saw Lars watching, and pulled him away with a finger held to his lips.
"What is dad doing?" He asked Gus, which was met with a quiet yet harsh shush.
"Don't worry about it, it's just... adult stuff, ok?" Gus said, pulling Lars back into his room, glancing behind him at the bathroom. He winces at the clink of the razor falling in the sink.
Gus shoos lars away, with a quick "read a book or something", and shuts his bedroom door behind him. Lars is left to stare at the closed door.
From then on, Lars was always acutely aware of his fathers daily routine. He became accustomed to the sound of the razor box opening, and he knew that was his cue to stay away from the bathroom. He still never really understood what it was his dad was doing, but he figured he'd learn about it eventually. "Adult stuff," gus had said. Maybe this is one of those things all adults do, that he'll learn about in school one day when he's old enough. Maybe one day, his dad will sit him down, and inform him that his time has come to join this daily ritual. Teach him how to do it. He was a little scared for that day. From then on, he was always terrified of growing up.
But that day never came. He went through all the sex ed classes in school, learning about puberty and "becoming a man", and every time he thought this will be the time when they're all taught about the adult activity of cutting yourself. They'd teach him about why its necessary, and how to do it, and he'd finally understand and feel less scared whenever his dad goes into the bathroom.
But the day never came.
He figured that this was just one of those things. Those taboo things that no one ever talks about but you're expected to just know how to do. Like sex, beyond just "penis goes in vagina and makes baby". Like taxes. Like talking to people who scare you, resolving conflict. Talking about difficult things. Grieving a mother you never knew.
He tried to ask gus a few times, but he always brushed it off. "Don't worry about it", "It's nothing", "it doesn't matter". And then he moved out.
So, he figured, if no one was going to teach him, he'd do it himself. Like everything else he had to teach himself to do.
He waited with baited breath for the sound of his father leaving the bathroom. He slipped in after him, locking the door behind him. He opened the medicine cabinet, and pulled out the razor box. He opened it as quietly as possible, and pulled out the razor.
His heart was racing as he cleaned off the blade. He still didn't know why it was necessary, but his dad did it, so it must do something. He figures he'll find out, when it's done.
His hand shakes as he holds the blade over his forearm. He shuts his eyes tight, and goes for it.
He winces and hisses at the burning, opening his eyes to see blood starting to pool around the cut. It hurts. He blinks away the tears, and quietly cleans off the razor, and puts it back in the box. He rinses his arm under the flow of the tap until it stops bleeding.
He closes the medicine cabinet, and then stares at himself in the mirror on it's door.
You're officially a man now, Lars.
When summer rolled around, Lars found himself constantly looking at people's arms. Now exposed, thanks to the warmer weather, he could see people's arms, but he never saw the marks. He saw people looking at his marks, though. And they would look in horror. They'd whisper to each other. They'd clear their throat and then look away as if they didn't see anything.
From then on, Lars always wore long sleeves, no matter the weather. He was embarrassed. Maybe he was just really bad at this cutting thing. Maybe he was doing it wrong, and thats why he always had marks and no one else did. Of course, another thing that everyone seemed to know how to do right, instinctually, while Lars was left never knowing what he was doing wrong. He heard the voices of those who would stare then. "Damn, he can't even cut himself right" "Look at all those ugly marks, how can he get such a simple thing so wrong?" "What an idiot."
He eventually grew tolerant to the sticky sweatiness of wearing longsleeves all year round. But he still grew relieved when the temperature started to drop. Winter became his favourite season.
He was 18 when he started going to church. His dad would take him occasionally, like on christmas, or easter, but never outside of that. Lars was never too conscious about his belief in God. It was just there, in the back of his mind, an unspoken truth. But when his dad brought up the fact that he used to go every sunday with his mom, suddenly it made sense why they never go anymore. But Lars was 18 now. He could drive. He had his own life. So he made a point of going. He thought maybe if he could get closer to God, maybe God can teach him about all these things that everyone seems to just expect him to know. Maybe thats why he doesn't - because God was never there to teach him.
His expectations were lowered pretty quickly when he didn't start hearing the voice of God in his ear every day after many months of going and praying. But he still went to Church anyway. He felt closer to his mother there, and that made it worth it. Plus, the people were nice. They'd tell him stories about his mom, about how nice and kind she was. He felt bad for taking that away from everyone.
When he was 20, he found out the truth. He felt a little stupid for not figuring it out sooner. But only now, that he was reading through a psychology textbook, did he realise just how wrong he was about all of this.
"Self Harm" it reads. "The act of causing intentional harm to oneself, usually to relieve psychological distress, most commonly seen in those with major depressive disorder, or other psychotic illnesses."
Below it, a list of methods. Burning, scratching, hitting. cutting.
This wasn't something everyone did. This was something his dad did. And now him, apparently.
He knew, upon reading that, that he should stop. It wasn't a good thing. It wasn't necessary. Yet still, he just couldn't seem to stop himself. It'd become such a solid part of his routine at this point. Everynight, he'd comb his hair, brush his teeth, cut, and then go to bed. That had been his routine for 4 whole years. He can't just stop now.
He tried to. One night he skipped the cutting. He laid awake all night, tossing and turning. It was all he could think about. He never really thought about how the cutting made him feel, but now that he was without it, he realised how much it helped. It made him happy. A release. It helped him to breathe. It made everything quiet. It made his brain quiet, so he could sleep.
One day, at dinner, he asked his dad. "Why do you cut yourself?"
His dad looked shocked for just a moment, before looking down with a shrug.
"It takes the pain away." is all he said in response.
He knew he should stop. But at this point, what was the point? He figured, just one little cut a day can't be doing too much harm. He's still alive. Dad is still alive. He feels fine, he's not sick. He hides it well. No one thinks to question his long sleeves in summer these days. They all just think "well that's lars for you". This would go on to be just another one of Lars' many quirks.
Unlike Gus, Lars didn't make any moves to move away from home as soon as he could. The thought was scary to him. No one ever taught him how to live, how to be an adult.
Even though his dad was distant, he still relied on him. They still ate dinner together, even though neither of them ever ate much. He didn't have to worry about rent, or groceries, which was good because Lars was struggling to find a Job out of college (another thing they never teach you how to do - be employable). He didn't really want to leave. Besides, His dad was the only family he had left now, with Gus gone. If he moved out, he'd be well and truly alone. His dad may not be the most light and pleasant company, but he still loved him. They still shared the odd, brief conversation over dinner. His dad never hurt him, he just... wasn't all there.
So even though his dad never seemed overly joyous at his presence, he stayed anyway. He never really knew why Gus moved out so quickly. He figured he just had a longing for independence. Lars didn't have that longing. Independence was a terrifying, looming entity rather than a light at the end of the tunnel.
Lars was 23 when his dad died.
It was just like any other tuesday. He'd just started a new job. He went to work as usual. He came home, opening the door and calling his usual "I'm home" as he wiped his boots on the door mat, before pulling them off.
The eerie silence in the house didn't strike Lars as odd. This is how it always was. He went about his usual routine. He went into the kitchen expecting to see his dad chopping vegetables, but as he rounded the corner, he wasn't there. This was the first strike through Lars's soul. He frowned.
"Dad?" He called, walking into the living room to see if he'd fallen asleep on the couch watching TV. But still no sign.
He walked upstairs, and that was the last moment he ever felt any semblence of normal for the rest of his life. Because then, he saw the puddle of blood, leaking from the bathroom. It had even started soaking onto the carpet of the hallway.
His eyes followed the puddle up, to his dad, lifeless on the floor.
Lars practically froze, only able to let out strange, gutteral whines of pure panic.
He doesn't remember how long he was stood there for. It could have been two seconds, it could have been hours. But at some point, one thought came to the forefront, the only moment of clarity in a haze of panic and terror - call 911.
He tried to run into his dads bedroom to where he knew the nearest phone was, but he stumbled on his way, and as his hands came to catch him, they fell right into the blood soaked carpet. He sobbed as he looked at his now blood-soaked hands. It filled him with an awful, painful dread. If the blood was on his hands, that means it's his fault, right?
It's always his fault.
He scrambles his way up and grabs the phone, dialling 911 with shaking hands. His eyes squeeze shut as he collapses onto the floor, squeezed into a ball between the bed and the wall. He presses the phone to his ears. His eyes stay firmly shut. He doesn't want to look at anything ever again, right now.
"911, what is your emergency?" The garbled voice of the operator crackles through. Lars tries his best to respond, but for a while all he can muster is more animalistic groans of terror.
"Hello? What is your emergency?" The operator tries again, and Lars takes in the deepest breath he has in god knows how long - and it wasn't a pleasant one. The air smelled uncomfortably metallic.
"M-my dad, uh... um... My dad is d-dead." He shakes out.
"Okay, where are you? What is the address?" The operator asks, sounding much more urgent now. Lars relays his address. "Okay, are you sure he's definitely dead, have you checked for a pulse?"
Lars shakes his head, even though he knows they can't see. "T-there... there's too much b-blood... too much blood.. too much..."
"Ok, I need you to check for a pulse, okay? press two fingers onto the side of his neck and see if you can feel a pulse." The operator relays.
Lars knows he should check. He knows that if theres somewhere, somehow a chance that his dad is still alive, he should try and save him. But he just can't bring himself to move.
After a while, lars simply shakes out "I can't".
"Okay... do you know how this happened? Did you hurt him? Do you think someone else hurt him?" They ask.
"I... I think he did this to himself." Lars says, barely above a whisper.
Lars hears sirens getting closer, soon followed by a banging on the front door. He doesn't move though. He can't. He's still frozen. He refuses to open his eyes. He soon hears the crack of the front door being broken and people shouting out. The phone slowly falls from his hand, hanging from the wire. He hears someone enter the room, saying a quick "found him", soon followed by the dial tone of the phone being hung up.
"Are you okay? Can you tell us your name?" The voice says from the other side of the room. Lars can't say anything. All he can do is continue to sob.
He hears the muffled voices of other people coming from the bathroom. He can make out the words "definitely suicide" and "pronounced dead", to which he can only sob harder.
Knowing that Lars definitely isn't a murderer now, and that they didn't have to expend all their energy and focus on resusitation, the paramedic who was with him steps a little closer. "Hey, you need to take some deep breaths, okay? Can you do that?"
Their voice sounds soft and calm. Lars thinks they sound nice, relatively trustworthy. But he still can't bring himself to respond to them, no matter how much he wants to.
"everything's okay now, we're here to help. Can you open your eyes?" Lars shakes his head hard. He doesn't really want to see anything ever again.
"Do you think you could stand up? Come outside with us and get some fresh air?" Lars shakes his head.
"No? Okay... Can you try some deep breaths? I don't want you passing out on us." She says, softly. Lars hears the rustle of them moving closer, followed by a soft squeak from the bedframe as she slowly sits down on it. Honestly, he thinks, passing out doesn't sound all that bad right now. But still he can't bring himself to try and force it. So, he tries his best, and manages to take in some deeper breaths, all be it shaky and hitching, since he has very little control over his diaphragm right now.
"That's better." They encourage gently. They're interrupted by some other first responders mumbling something from the doorway that Lars can't make out. "Lars, is that your name?"
He figures they must have found his name somewhere. A part of him is glad that he wouldn't have to say it himself, because he doesn't think he'll be able to say anything at all for a long time. A part of him hates that they know it now, because he hates hearing his own name. Especially right now.
He nods.
"Ok, Lars. Can I touch you?" They ask. Lars immediately tenses up at the mere thought and shakes his head as hard as possible. "Okay, okay, I won't, don't worry."
He relaxes hearing that promise.
"Can you at least tell me if you're hurt anywhere? I need to make sure you're ok, physically at least." They clarify. Lars is glad they clarified, because he is very much not okay. But physically? He's fine. Mostly. So he shakes his head.
He hears more people coming in and out of the room, muttering things in serious professional tones. He catches the words "23 years old", "Brother", "family", "Can't stay here".
"okay, Lars. As soon as your ready, we need to move you outside. You can't stay here tonight, so we'll see if theres somewhere else for you to stay. You can take your time, though. No rush."
Lars takes in a stuttered breath, and finally peels open his eyes. He looks up at the paramedic sat on the bed. She looks young, maybe Gus's age. Her eyes look sad, but she smiles at him. He quickly looks away as soon as they make eye contact. She doesn't say anything. Lars is grateful for that.
He looks down at the dried blood on his hands, and tears well in his eyes again. He desperately tries to scrub it off.
"Oh, here, I can help you with that." The paramedic says, and lars quickly retracts his hands, hiding them between his legs in anticipation of them being touched. The paramedic simply rustles around in their bag and pulls out an alchohol wipe, tearing open the packet and holding it out for lars to take. He silently takes it and wipes away all the blood. He keeps wiping, and wiping. Scrubbing. All the blood is gone, but it feels like its still there. Like it's cemented itself into his hands forever. The paramedic frowns, and gently tries to take the alcohol wipe from him.
"Hey, they're clean now, okay? I promise."
Lars sniffs, and flaps his hands to dry them off.
"Think you're ready to move? I've been told that a neighbour said they'd be happy to let you stay with them. Do you know Mrs Gruner?"
His eyes open a little wider, looking up at the paramedic for a moment, before softly nodding.
He always liked Mrs Gruner. She was always nice to him. Even when he sat at the back during church, she'd join him. Even when he struggled to work out what to say, she'd talk on anyway without a care. When no one else seemed to notice him, she always did.
"Okay, thats good. And i've been told you have a brother, is that right?"
Lars nods.
"We'll be in contact with him soon so you don't have to go through this alone." She says. A part of Lars doubts Gus would even come by. He left so quickly, barely said goodbye. He thinks Gus hates him a bit. Sometimes he even forgets he has a brother at all.
Lars blinks a hard, long blink, and then slowly starts to emerge from his nook beside the bed. The paramedic smiles.
"They've covered everything up out there, so you don't have to worry about seeing anything, okay? We'll just head right outside." She gently ushers Lars outside, making sure not to touch him. Lars still shut his eyes as they left the bedroom. Muscle memory took him to the stairs, and he didn't open his eyes again until they were at least halfway down.
They step outside, and Lars takes sight of all the police cars and ambulances parked outside, some of them with their lights still flashing. He winces. It's a terrifying, unfamiliar sight. Those shouldn't be there. This shouldn't be happening. This isn't how the day is supposed to go. He should be sat at the dinner table with his dad, sat in silence aside from the odd quipp about the weather, or some news story.
But amongst all the chaos is a familiar face. Mrs Gruner waits to the side, wrapped up in a warm coat. She smiles sadly as soon as she sees Lars coming.
"Oh Lars, I'm so sorry for you loss." She says, teary eyed and desperately resisting every urge to pull him close and hug him tight. Lars doesn't respond, he just turns away, to hold his hands over his eyes and breathe through the rising urge to cry again.
"Come on, Lars. Let's head back to my house. I could fetch you some dinner, did you eat yet?" Mrs Gruner tries. She's trying to keep a brave face on for lars, but truth be told, she's also pretty shaken by this. She can't imagine what poor lars had to go through, witness. He's still just a kid, at least to her.
Lars sniffs, but walks over, following her over the road to her house.
She sat him down in the dining room and scuttered off to make him some dinner. She brought him a plate of food, but Lars had no appetite at all. He didn't really think he could eat anything ever again.
"Come on, Just one bite. I worked hard on this, you know." She tries to encourage him, taking some food onto the fork and holding it out for him, but he just continues to stare distantly. She gives up, dropping the fork with a clatter. She doesn't want to look mad, she's just heartbroken. Seeing this kid who she already sees as quiet, vulnerable, so utterly broken and traumatised. It's not fair on the poor kid.
Lars blinks hard out of his staring daze, and sniffs as he starts to pull on a loose thread from the hem of his sweater.
"What am I supposed to do?" He says, just barely above a whisper. Mrs Gruners lip wobbles and she turns away, sniffing away her own urge to cry.
"Nothing, dear. Don't need to do anything. Not right now." Her voice shakes and she forces a smile his way, even though he's not looking.
"Do you think he's going to hell?" Lars squeaks out. He doesn't want his dad to go to hell. He wants him to go to heaven, so he can meet his mom there again. So they can be happy together again. If he goes to hell, they'll be seperated forever. But people who kill themselves go to hell. People who don't believe go to hell.
"I don't know lars, but maybe if we pray, we can help him get there." Mrs gruner responds. Lars nods weakly, and they both clasp their hands together, and silently pray.
Lars can't sleep at all that night, for a multitude of reasons. How can one sleep after seeing such things? That, plust being in an unfamiliar bed, and not getting to do his usual nightly routine of cutting, means his brain is a whirlwind of noise that won't shut up and let him sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he's met with the image of blood leaking into the carpet. Not really the type of thing you want to be seeing as you drift off to sleep, so lars just stars into the distance all night, letting the whirlwind happen. Because theres nothing else he can do about it.
He wonders if Gus will come for him. Will he even answer any calls? Is he even alive? For all Lars knows, he could be. He has no real way of knowing.
But he needn't worry. Because Gus is coming. He's coming as fast as the engine of his car will take him.
He was just enjoying a nice dinner with his soon-to-be wife. Life was good. He'd forgotten what it had been like back home. He kind of forgot that "back home" even existed. This felt like his whole life now. But then the phone rang.
He answered, expecting it to just be some sales call or something.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Gus Lindstrom?"
"Yep that's me."
"This is the Clearwater County police department of Minnesota. We're calling to inform you of the passing of your father, Paul Lindstrom."
Gus goes pale. The air grows tense, and Karin can sense that this isn't any old phonecall, even though his back is completely turned to her. She just senses it. She stands up cautiously, walking over.
"H-He's dead?" Gus eventually responds.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. He was found dead by suicide in his house, by your younger brother Lars."
"Lars found him?" Gus's heart drops into the pit of his stomach. "Is he okay?"
"He's staying with a neighbour for tonight. But he will probably need help sorting everything out. The house, the funeral, legal assets and the like."
"Okay... Okay, thanks for letting me know..." Gus trails off.
"No worries. I'm very sorry for your loss, and don't be afraid to ask for help during this time."
If he wasn't already distraught and upset, Gus would have rolled his eyes at how insincere that sounded. But he had bigger things on his mind right now. He hung up the phone, turning to Karin who looked on in worry.
"What happened?" She asked.
"My dad's dead." Gus replied shakily, gladly accepting the hug Karin immediately reaches out for.
"Oh honey, I'm sorry... Did they say how?"
"Suicide..." Gus says in a whisper. Karin stifles a gasp. "Lars found him... He's just a kid Karin, he's gonna be so fucked up, even more than he already is, fuck-"
"Hey hey... It's okay. We'll go back and see him, make sure he's okay, yeah?" Karin says, rubbing Gus's back as he starts to sob.
"He's all alone out there Karin..." Gus whimpers. "I mean, he's with a neighbour, but y'know. He doesn't have friends, or a girlfriend or anyone. Not when I last saw him anyway. He's a sensitive kid, he's gonna be so messed up now."
Gus pours out. Karin had never seen him like this. Gus was always so cool, so chill, never really seemed to show any negative emotions. But now, he was distraught.
"It's okay... It's okay..." Karin quietly comforts, squeezing him tighter before pulling away. "I'll start clearing away dinner, you go start packing up some things. We'll probably have to stay over there for a few days at least. Then we'll go."
Gus nods, immediately running off to their bedroom. Karin takes a grounding breath before clearing away their half eaten dinner. There was no point finishing it now.
It was 5:37AM when Lars heard the car pulling up outside. He sat up, going to the window. He recognised the car. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Gus get out of the drivers side. Gus really came for him. He smiles the slightest smile, as much as he could manage, at that.
He tiptoed down the stairs, trying not to wake Mrs Gruner, and opened the front door.
"Shit- Lars!" Gus whisper shouted, running up to him. His instinct was to wrap him up in a tight hug, but he resisted. Instead his hands just hovered around him, avoiding touch. "Are you okay?"
Lars just nodded, forcing a fake smile. "Yeah... Gotta be quiet though, I don't wanna wake Mrs Gruner."
Gus nods. "Okay... You sure you're okay?"
Lars hesitates. Of course he's not okay. How could he be okay? But they're Lindstroms. And in this family, you don't tell people how you're really feeling. Not when it's bad. You just smile and nod. So that's what he does, no matter how much of a lie it is.
Gus of course, is a little taken aback at how "fine" Lars seems. He knows they have a tendency to put up walls but he thought, after seeing something so traumatising, the walls wouldn't still be up so high.
"Okay, well, You just make sure you get some rest. I'll make all the calls and everything. You just stay here for a while until we get everything sorted..." Gus says, putting his hands in his pockets with a shiver. He hesitates for a moment, and then...
"Take care of yourself, will you?"
Lars looks down at the floor, blinking hard. And then looks up again, forces a smile, and nods.
"... Alright. I'll come back again at a more sociable hour." Gus says with a forced, polite smile.
"Okay. Bye." Lars shuffles back into the house and quietly closes the door behind him. He almost jumps out of his skin when he turns to see Mrs Gruner halfway down the stairs.
"Who was that?" She asks, squinting with only one eye open.
"Oh, It was my brother. Sorry for waking you, you can go back to sleep, Mrs Gruner. Everything's fine." Lars rushes, with a polite smile.
"Okay. You doin' okay?" She asks for good measure. Lars smiles politely and nods. Mrs Gruner nods back, and they both head back upstairs.
Lars doesn't go back to bed. He instead watches out the window as Gus and his fiance - he never caught her name - get back in the car and drive away.
"He's really your brother?" Karin says with a frown, once the door closes.
Gus walks down the steps, frowning back. "Yeah, why?"
"It just... doesn't feel like it. Your dad just died and yet... you didn't even hug or anything. Just exchanged pleasantries like nothing had really happened."
"Well, Lars doesn't like to be touched, usually. By anyone. I'd imagine especially so, after... He's just a bit... different, I guess." Gus explains.
Karin nods, albeit hesitantly. "... do you really think he's okay?"
"No. But he's not good at showing it, so..." Gus shrugs, opening the car door and getting back into the drivers seat. Karin gets in after him.
"If he's clearly not okay then you shouldn't just leave him like that. Shouldn't you at least... press him? A bit?" Karin asks, full of confusion and worry.
"If he wanted help he'd ask for it. Clearly he doesn't. I mean, what would I even do? He doesn't talk. He doesn't like touch. I can't hug him and let him spill his feelings out onto me, that's just not... what Lars does. He does things his own way, and that's fine. He's 23, he doesn't need me." Gus turns the key and the engine turns over.
"You said it yourself Gus, he's just a kid, and a sensitive one at that. Are you really just going to drive off right now? You can't even be there for your brother when your last remaining family dies?"
Gus takes a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"He's not alone. He's fine. I don't know what else you want me to do."
With that, he shifts the car into drive and pulls away. They drive until they reach the nearest hotel.
Lars ended up succumbing to his body's intense exhaustion eventually. It wasn't a nice relaxing sleep - far from it. Nightmares of seeing his fathers dead body, of that body belonging to Gus instead. Of that body being him instead. He only really slept for a couple hours before he woke up from the endless nightmares. He wasn't going back to sleep after that.
He slid off the bed, sitting on the floor and curling into a ball, staring into the distance. He hugged himself tightly.
When he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by the click of the handle turning, he made no moves to turn around, to greet Mrs Gruner with a polite smile as he had done just hours before. He made no moves at all.
Mrs Gruner's heart sunk when she saw his ruffled hair just visible above the bed where he sat on the opposite side. She quietly walked over, and crouched down next to him.
"How're we doin?" She asks with a forced smile. She gets nothing. "... Why don't you come down and have some breakfast? I'll make you whatever you want. My treat.... What do you normally have?... Pancakes? Toast? Oatmeal?"
She tried to get something from him. Even the slightest hint of recognition, just a little sign that he'd even heard her speaking at all. Nothing.
She went to reach out to touch him but quickly retreated when she remembered his aversion to touch. Now she realises she doesn't exactly know how to comfort someone in such a state without it. All she can do is linger awkwardly.
She sighs, and moves to sit down next to Lars. Even if Lars doesn't show any signs of hearing anything she says, that doesn't mean he isn't. So it's worth a try, right?
"... You know, when my husband died, I was there. I saw it. It was probably less gruesome than what you saw. He was just in a hospital bed. I was prepared, I knew it was coming. He'd been fading for a while. But still, when I saw him take that last breath... That's something that never leaves you. Especially when it's someone you love. I didn't know what to do with myself. I thought I would cry, but I just didn't do anything. I just kept held of his hand for as long as I could before they took him away..."
Mrs Gruner sniffles, reliving the memory. She catches Lars fidgeting with his hands out the corner of her eye, but pays no attention to it.
"No one ever teaches you how to do these things. No one ever tells you exactly how to be. How to act. How to feel. No one guides you out of the room, tells you exactly where to go. Who to call. What to do. It's like you're just expected to know. Especially at my age. They presume you must know. But I don't know. None of us ever know."
Lars hides behind his hands. Boy does he know that feeling. It felt good to know he wasn't completely crazy for feeling like he doesn't know how to do anything.
"I suppose, all this is to say... If you feel lost, or confused, or stuck... I know how that feels. What you went through yesterday was traumatic, Lars. It will take time to recover from that. And that's okay. And you know, I will always be here for you, to give you advice, tell you how to feel, what to do, as best I can, even if I don't always know. And God will always be with you too, to guide you and heal you."
Lars brushes his hair back and then leans his head on his knees with a sniffle.
"If you want to hide from the world for a while, that's okay. You can't hide from it forever, but you don't have to step into it alone. It's okay to reach out to people. Even if you're not really sure what you're asking for. But right now, as much as i'd love to let you sit here forever, time doesn't stop, even when you go through something traumatic, and your body still needs food to live. So I will go and make you some breakfast, and bring it up here, and I hope you eat it because I will put my blood sweat and tears into it, just for you Lars. So if you want something specific, speak now, or forever hold your peace."
Mrs Gruner stands up, and turns to leave. Just as she reaches the door, she just about hears a mousey little voice croak out.
"Pancakes."
She smiles. "Comin' right up."
Karin sits on the hotel bed, fiddling with her fingers as she watches gus pace back and forth on the phone. She wishes there was more she could do, but theres only one phone in the hotel room, and she doesn't exactly know who needs to be called.
"Yeah, Paul Lindstrom... L I N D... S T R O M... yep... Gus, I'm his son... or was..."
Karin almost starts to feel seasick from watching Gus's pacing. He was never good at phonecalls, but all the responsibility fell on him now. He bites at his nails as he listens to the attorney on the other end of the line. Then his pacing pauses.
"Just Gus? Lars isn't mentioned?" Gus asks, his voice squeaking a little. After a pause, he huffs and returns to pacing.
A little while later, the phone is hung up and Gus collapses back on the bed.
"One call down, ten million-thousand more to go." Gus says with a sigh.
"You know you don't have to do it all today, right? You can take some time. No one expects a greiving son to have all assets sorted the day after." Karin says. Gus shrugs.
"I don't know. It feels like it all needs to be done now. Because I need a death certificate to start sorting out the will and assets, I need assets sorted so I can claim ownership of the house, I need the house to be clean and sorted soon so Lars isn't completely homeless. And I need to organise a funeral within a certain number of days, gotta wait for the all clear from the coroner and then get the death certificate for that as well." Gus takes a big breath. "And Lars clearly can't do anything so it's left up to me."
Karin frowns. "Don't be hard on him, he's only 23. And traumatised."
"No, No I know, I wasn't trying to-... I'm not blaming him or anything, It's just a lot to deal with. And we have no one else to help... And he'll probably need a therapist as well so that's another thing to worry about." Gus runs his hands through his hair.
"Gus..." Karin says, sitting up to look at him properly. "Take a breather. It's, what, 9am? The day's only just started. You have plenty of time."
"I know." Gus says, with yet another sigh. Karin's expression softens and she starts to rake her own hands through his hair.
"... And you lost a father too. It feels like you're forgetting that. You've barely even processed it." She says softly.
"I don't really have time to process it." Gus mumbles, but he closes his eyes, enjoying the comfort for just a moment. They lay in silence for a while before Gus breaks it. "We should probably check in on Lars again."
"That tone makes it sound like you don't want to." Karin quips.
"I do, it's just... He's so-... He's so hard to read, I never know what to think, or feel when I'm around him. It feels like approaching a wild animal, like I feel like I could say slightly the wrong thing and it would break him, and that's only worse now that he's fucking traumatised so... Terrible thing to say about your own brother, I know."
Karin frowns, silent for a beat. "So he's always been like... that?"
Gus shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just being dramatic... It's hard to remember what he was like before. It's been so long, y'know... since i'd last seen him."
"When did you last see him?" Karin asks.
"... when I moved out." Gus admits. Karin stops combing his hair, shifting her seat back. Gus sits up.
"Gus... it's been nearly 10 years since you moved out... you never saw him in that time?"
Gus rubs at his face with a groan. "I guess not."
"You never once thought to visit? Christmas? Thanksgiving? You mean all this time you've been spending the holidays alone? Not even going back home? You never saw your dad in all that time either?"
Gus shakes his head.
"... well- Why?" Karin asks, baffled at this admission.
"I don't know I... I moved out at 18 for a reason, yknow?" Gus stands up from the bed, going back to the phonebook. "And it wasn't just to be independent."
Gus goes to pick up the phone, but Karin snatches it out of his hand and slams it down.
"You never told me any of this."
"Never came up." Gus mumbles with a shrug.
"Bullshit 'Never came up'! We're about to be married soon, Gus. And now i'm realising I actually know nothing about you! Why? Why didn't you feel like you could tell me about... any of this?"
Gus sighs, picking up the phone again. "I need to call the coroner."
Karin snatches the phone from his hand again.
"Why do you always avoid conversations like this?"
Gus sighs, blinking hard. His hands squeeze into fists by his sides. It that moment, Karin suddenly sees the resemblance to his brother. They're definitely brothers, that's for sure.
"It scares me, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? It scares me. Because I grew up with a father who would cut himself every day, and every time I asked about it he'd either yell at me, or give me a terrifying, spine-chilling answer no teenager should ever had to have heard. Because I watched in real time as he went from kind and loving to a complete shell of the man he once was. Because when I tried to talk to teachers about what was happening at home, they'd just look at me like I'd grown two heads- they'd look scared. And it always turned into some big thing with serious meetings, asking me questions and- and that scared me. I grew up without a mom to go to for help, for love, for comfort, because lord knows dad couldn't do any of that... So forgive me if I avoid opening up to you... It's nothing personal, It's just who I am."
Gus trails off. Karin sniffles, turning away and goes to stare out the window while Gus, yet again, picks up the phone. His voice turns into background noise as she bites back tears.
Mrs Gruner knocks on the door softly before coming in with a plate of freshly prepared pancakes. Lars is still sat on the floor by the bed, so she meets him there, kneeling down to give him the plate and fork.
"Thank you." He says softly, moving so his legs are crossed, balancing the plate on them. He stares at it for a moment. He doesn't really have an appetite, but he knows he should eat. And Mrs Gruner worked hard on these pancakes. He flashes a smile at her and then tears away a piece of pancake with his fork.
Of course, it was delicious, which made it easier to eat more despite the fact that he still had no appetite.
Mrs Gruner simply stood by, watching out of the window. "It's snowing again." She quips.
Lars doesn't respond, just continuing to slowly nibble his way through the pancakes.
"You know, Your mother used to love the snow. I'd see her out there with gus, in the driveway. They'd make snowmen together, and snow angels."
Lars looks up at her for a moment, slowing his chewing. His father always hated when it snowed. Lars would beg to go outside in it and play. His dad would always say no. Sometimes Gus was able to sneak outside with him so they could throw snowballs at each other for a while before dad noticed they weren't in the house. His dad always got sadder when it snowed. Now that makes sense.
Mrs Gruner notices him pausing, and bites her lip. "Sorry, that's probably not helpful to hear, is it?"
Lars forces a smile, and shakes his head. "It's okay. I like hearing about her."
He always liked hearing about how kind and warm she was. It made things make sense. It made all the nights where his dad would cry himself to sleep make sense. It made all the guilt Lars felt every day make sense. It made all the suffering seem a bit more worthwhile.
"Well that's good." Mrs gruner says, returning the smile, before looking out of the window again. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, until lars puts the plate of pancakes aside. Unfinished, but finished enough that Mrs Gruner is satisfied that the boy isn't going to pass out on her.
"That was delicious, thank you." Lars says with a polite smile.
"You're very welcome." Mrs gruner says, sitting on the edge of the bed. She hesitates for a moment. "You know, theres a grief support group at the church on thursdays. You might like to come along some time."
Lars fidgets, staring at the wall ahead of him. He appreciates the offer, but he knows a support group like that is not for him. He's not one to talk about things. That's just how he is. Talking in a big group of people is a big no.
"I'll think about it." Lars replies politely.
" 'course. No pressure." Mrs gruner replies with a smile. She picks up the plate and stands up.
"I'll leave you be for a while. Shout if you need anything." She says softly as she leaves, shutting the door carefully behind her. Lars drops any remains of a facade as soon as he hears the click of the door. He sighs, hiding behind his hands for a while.
Eventually he stands up and stares out the window. He stares at the footprints and tyre tracks left in the driveway and front yard of the lindstrom house, slowly getting less and less visible as more snow piles on top of them. He starts to picture his mother and gus, running around, playing in the snow.
He never really got a good picture of what his mother even looked like. His father refused to show him any pictures. Any pictures of his mother were hidden away soon after he was born. His father always said it was too painful to look at them anymore. So Lars never really knew what she looked like. He just dreamed up a rough approximation for his daydreams. He thinks he never wants to see those pictures either, now. Because what if she looks nothing like how he imagined her to? All his fantasies would be ruined.
"Biohazard team? Why?" Gus says into the phone, his heart dropping. He supposes it makes sense. His dad died in that house. But he hadn't really thought much harder about it than that. The thought that there is "biological material" left behind... makes him a bit sick. Especially when he remembers that Lars found him.
"Ok, um... I need to go. Call me back if there's any... developments." He says hurriedly, hanging up the phone. "I need to go check on Lars."
Gus urgently starts getting his things together. Karin looks on with concern.
"What did they say?" She asks.
"Doesn't matter, I'll be back later-" Gus says, reaching for the door. He's cut off by Karin again.
"Gus. Talk to me. What did they say? Why are you suddenly in a rush? Don't act like you weren't avoiding visiting him earlier."
Gus sighs, gripping the doorhandle.
"The house is a biohazard. And that means that likely whatever is left behind, Lars saw. No wonder he's traumatised, as if a plain dead body wasn't enough. Who knows what he was subject to. He isn't okay. I need to check on him." Gus says hurriedly, throwing the door open.
"Did you want me to come with you?" Karin asks.
"No, It's fine. You can wait here." Gus says.
"Are you sure?" Karin checks. Gus hesitates for a moment.
"I'm sure. See you later."
And with that, Gus shut the door behind him. He rushed to his car and sped over to Mrs Gruners house. He paused as he got out of the car, staring at the lindstrom house. Suddenly it looked a lot more scary and ominous than it did usually. He sighs, and walks up to the front door, knocking.
The front door creaks open, and Mrs Gruner greets him with a smile.
"Hi Mrs Gruner, it's Gus. Lars's brother." He says with a polite smile.
"Oh my goodness! Gus! Why, the last time I saw you, you were about yea high." Mrs Gruner says with a bright smile, gesturing the height of a small child. "I'm so sorry about your father."
Gus shrugs. "It's okay. I've kinda.... been too wrapped up in all the admin to really process it." Gus says with a sigh.
"I can imagine. There's a lot to do when someone dies. You'd think they'd have more systems in place to support you through it." Mrs Gruner replies.
"yeah... Is Lars okay?" Gus asks, squinting as if he's almost afraid of the answer.
"Yes. Well, as okay as he could be, given the circumstances. He's upstairs in the spare bedroom, if you wanted to go check in on him." She replies. Gus nods.
"Yeah, uh... Do you... Do you know anything about... about how my dad died?" Gus asks, staring at the floor, trailing off awkwardly.
"Did they not tell you?" Mrs Gruner says with a frown.
"No, well, they said it was suicide but... Nothing more than that." Gus says with a shrug. He was about to say it doesn't matter and move on, but Mrs Gruner continues.
"I don't know much more about it myself. Apparently pretty gruesome though, from what I heard. You'll need a cleaner to make the house useable again."
Gus sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, that's... that's what they told me."
"I know a good team, I'll give you their number." Mrs Gruner says with a polite nod.
"Thanks... uh, I guess I'll-" Gus points up the stairs.
"Oh, yes, let me show you where he is." Mrs gruner says, stepping aside to let Gus in. "He seems mostly okay. Just a bit... distant. I suppose that's expected. I got him to eat something though."
Gus toes off his shoes, not bothering to untie the laces. "That's good."
He follows Mrs Gruner up the stairs and to the room. She knocks gently on the door before slowly opening the door.
"Hey Lars, your brother is here for you, is that okay?" She asks. Lars stands up from where he was leaning on the window sill, and nods with a polite smile. Mrs gruner steps aside to let Gus in.
"I'll leave you boys to talk." She says, closing the door behind her as she leaves the room.
The two of them stand awkwardly for a while. Gus clears his throat and takes a deep breath before gaining the courage to ask the question.
"Are you okay?"
Lars looks up at the ceiling, mustering the energy to plaster a smile on his face as he nods.
"Lars, you know you can talk to me. You don't have to pretend to be okay or whatever, just..." Gus trails off, not really sure what to actually say. Lars shrugs and shakes his head.
"I'm fine."
"Lars, there's no way you're fine. I-... I don't know what you saw but I know it wasn't pretty. There's no way you can just be okay after that." Gus spills out. His heart is racing, terrified of how Lars will react. Or rather, terrified that he won't be able to handle whatever Lars' reaction is.
Lars blinked hard, letting out a huff as he struggles to keep up the facade. He feels frozen. He doesn't know what to say.
"Lars... talk to me." Gus tries.
Lars continues to blink, looking everywhere but at Gus. They sit in awkward silence until Lars finally speaks.
"Did you need something?"
Gus' shoulders drop. He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. He sighs hard.
"No, Lars. I didn't need anything. I just wanted to make sure you're okay because you're my brother and you saw something traumatic and... I don't know. I don't know why I bother." Gus shakes his head, turning away from Lars. He takes several deep breaths, trying to hold back tears. Lars watches uncomfortably.
"I'm going to the morgue to pick up his death certificate. I don't suppose you want to come with me?" Gus offers. Lars shrugs and shakes his head.
"No thanks."
"Great. Good talk. I'm glad you're okay." Gus says, words laced with passive aggression as he swings the bedroom door open and leaves.
Lars sighs, turning back to look out of the window, quietly crying to himself.
Gus storms down the stairs.
"oh, that was quick." Mrs Gruner quips.
"yeah." Gus says quickly with a polite smile.
"...oh, uh, here's the number for that cleaning company. And I also put my landline number on there, in case you wanted to reach me." Mrs Gruner says, handing over a slip of paper. "I'm here if you want help with anything."
"Thanks." Gus says quickly pulling his shoes on. "I'll see you later."
Gus quickly leaves, Mrs gruner saying a quick goodbye and waving as he walks down the steps to his car, before closing the door with a frown.
Gus clambers into his car, and tears quickly start to spill.
Lars watches from the window as Gus cries in the car. He watches as Gus frantically wipes his tears away and then drives off.
That night, lars slips into the bathroom before getting ready for bed. He found the motivation to brush his teeth - Mrs Gruner went to buy him a new toothbrush, since they couldn't get a hold of his old one. As he finished, splashing his face with water like he always did, there was a lingering shadow, looming over his shoulder. He didn't want to do it. It filled his mind with visions of bleeding out and dying, just like his dad did. But he also wanted to do it so badly, to bring back that routine for some sense of normalcy after his whole world has been flipped upside down. And to be able to shut his mind up and be able to sleep.
He took a deep breath and started looking around the bathroom for something he could use. Mrs Gruner was a widow, no man lived in the house now, so razors like the ones lars usually used weren't around. He found a pair of cuticle scissors. They looked relatively sharp. It'll do.
He blinked hard, taking a deep breath, and got to it.
Usually he'd just cut once. Usually that was enough. But he knew it wouldn't be today. So he did a few. The sharp burning got his brain to shut up. He felt assured seeing that they didn't bleed very much.
He cleaned off his arm, cleaned off the scissors and put them back quietly, trying not to make too much noise. Once the cuts had stopped bleeding, he left the bathroom, and went to bed.
Months later, and Gus and Karin were finally moving into the Lindstrom house for good. They consistently offered that Lars move in with them. But he would always vehemently refuse. They settled on him moving into the garage - converting it into a sort of granny annex. It took some convincing, but eventually Lars settled on that compromise. After all, he couldn't stay with Mrs Gruner forever, even if she was nice enough to let him stay until it was done. And he had no where else to go. He couldn't afford a house of his own, and there was nowhere to rent nearby. Nor did he really want to live completely alone. Knowing Gus and Karin were just a yard away was a comfort. But he wasn't keen on stepping foot in that house again. He anticipated it sending him into floods of panic as he's hit with flashbacks of seeing his dead father limp on the floor. And he wasn't about to go through that, let alone have to subject Gus and Karin to that. He didn't want to break down in front of them.
That didn't stop Karin from trying though.
She'd always be coming and knocking on his door, offering breakfast or dinner. Lars always refused, dreaming up excuses.
Since moving back in, Lars' habit of cutting started to get more frequent. He still always told himself that he shouldn't. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was a sin - harming the body god gave him. But he just couldn't stop. It was the only way he knew how to cope with all the darkness weighing on his mind. Now he thinks he finally understands. He understands why his dad always did it. He was right - it takes the pain away.
So now, instead of just one cut before bed every night, it became several, whenever the weight of the world on his shoulders got too heavy. When the thoughts in his head got too dark and scary. It became such second nature that he would barely register that he was even doing it.
Which is what happened on this particular day. He must have been in a daze, because he didn't realise what he was doing until he was pulled out of it by the rapping of Karin knocking on the door. He looked down and saw that his arm was bleeding. A lot.
He starts to panic, mind spinning with visions of the day his dad died. But it's supposed to stop the bad thoughts. Why is it making it worse this time?
Karin's at the door. She knocks again, and calls out his name.
Lars stumbles out of his bathroom, holding onto his arm. He opens the door, just a crack, peering around it.
"Lars! are you able to come for dinner today?" She asks, smiling brightly. Lars can barely push his usual polite smile. It's weak and shaky, and drops quickly. Karin frowns.
"Are you okay?" She asks, and then gently pushes the door to see what he's hiding behind it for. Lars panics, and stumbles backwards, letting Karin push the door open fully. She sees the blood dripping through his fingers and down his arm. Her jaw falls open.
"Lars?! What happened? Are you okay? what-" Karin pushes her way in. Lars blinks hard, taking quick shaky breaths, in full panic. His secret is gonna be found out. He can't hide it now.
"Hey, sweetheart, it's okay, lets get you cleaned up okay." Karin says, voice raising up an octave. She grabs onto Lars' wrist, making him wince and let out an audible whimper. That pain is worse than the burning of the cuts. It's all consuming, pulsing through his whole body, like every nerve is on fire. He can't see as she pulls him towards the kitchen sink, holding his arm under the running water.
"Take your hand away so I can see." She says softly. Lars shakes his head and that only makes him grip on tighter. Karin frowns at how much he's resisting, but the panic and the pain of all the touching makes him weak and shaky, and she pulls his hand away. As all the blood on his arm washes away, her stomach sinks.
She thought this was an accident. Cut himself while cooking. Fell over and cut it on a sharp corner or something.
But the several straight, clean scars littered all up his arm, some clearly long healed and old, tell a different story.
"...Lars..." She whispers. Lars keeps his eyes clenched shut tightly, breathing hard in panic. "... what... what is this?"
Karin has no idea what to do. She just stands there in shock, staring at it. Like a deer in the headlights.
"How long have you been doing this for?" She asks quietly. She gets no answer. "Lars, tell me!"
Lars couldn't answer even if he wanted to - which he absolutely does not. He'd rather be curled away in some burrow far far away from anyone else. But instead he's here, feeling his whole body on fire, and terrified.
Karin sniffs, shaking her head. "Whatever, lets just get this cleaned up first."
She gently cleans around the fresh wounds, looking closely at them. Lars turns his head as far away as he can, without being an owl. His eyes stay tightly shut and he bites his lip to avoid bursting into tears in front of Karin. He still considers her practically a stranger.
"Well I don't think you'll need stitches so thats good." Karin says shakily, turning off the tap and grabbing some paper towels to dab them dry. "Do you have a first aid kit in here? Or at least some bandaids or something?"
Lars lets out a harsh breath. He knows he should answer. He knows he needs to answer. He knows answering will make Karin finally stop touching him. But he's so overwhelmed he just can't even make a single noise with his vocal chords.
Karin huffs with a shrug, walking off to the bathroom. She figures that would be the most logical place. Lars collapses onto the floor as soon as she lets go, curling up into a ball. He can finally breathe, now that his entire nervous system isn't on fire.
Karin walks into the bathroom, and winces at the sight of an abandoned razor in the bathroom sink. She holds a hand over her mouth to resist from sobbing loudly. She always knew lars was sensitive. She knew he was "different". She knew he was traumatised. But he never struck her as the type to do... this. How will she tell gus? Does gus already know?
She shakes the thoughts away and refocuses on the task at hand, rummaging in cupboards until she finds a first aid kit. Equipped with gauze and bandages, she heads back out to the kitchen where they were. She stops in her tracks when she sees lars curled up in a ball on the floor. She sighs, and crouches down next to him.
"I'm just gonna dress these, and then I'm gonna go and get gus and we'll talk this out, okay?" She says, trying to sound reassuring. Lars shows zero sign of even having heard her. She frowns, but gently takes his arm, to which he immediately tenses up and tries to pull away. Karin lets him this time.
"S-sorry. I know you... don't like touch... I'm sorry..." Karin tries her best to regain her composure and not panic. She's starting to understand what Gus said. Talking to Lars really can feel like approaching a wild animal. Especially when he's like this.
"Can you just... hold your arm out? Then I can wrap it, with minimal touching. Okay?" She suggests. After a moment of consideration, Lars complies, extending his arm out. Karin expertly applies the gauze and wraps the bandages to keep it in place. She sighs a heavy sigh of relief now that that's done.
"Okay... I'm going to go and get Gus now. So we can.... talk this through." She says, though she realises as she says that, that Lars has not said a word in a long time. Would they even be able to talk about it? Would it become a one sided conversation?
Still, she stands up, leaving through the door and jogging across the yard. She knocks hard on the door and gus opens it with a frown.
"What took you so long?"
"Lars cut himself." She says, a sob finally breaking free.
"Is he okay? Do I need to call an ambulance-"
"No, Gus.... He cut. Himself." Karin emphasises. Gus turns pale. A tense silence hangs in the air.
"...what?"
"... His arm is covered in them, old scars, he's been doing this for years Gus...." Karin sobs out, holding a hand over her mouth to stifle them again, desperately trying to calm down. Gus silently pushes past her, running towards the garage. Karin follows closely behind.
Gus bursts in, staring at Lars, still curled up on the floor. His heart sinks. For a moment, he doesn't see the now-24 year old man he'd come to know these past months. He sees the 10 year old kid he ushered away into his room when their dad was cutting.
He doesn't know what to say, what to do. He's mostly just glad Lars is alive. He almost thought maybe he'd gone to far. Just like dad.
"Lars..." is all he can let out. Lars doesn't move. Doesn't even look at them. "Lars what were you... I mean-... Why? How long have you-? Jesus fucking christ."
Gus starts to pace. Lars winces at the blasphemy and cursing.
"Why can't you just talk to me lars?" Gus says, almost yelling. The vulnerability he sees in Lars' trembling figure is the only thing that holds him back.
Lars sniffs, and inhales as if about to speak, but nothing happens. This happens several times over until Gus and Karin are about to scream at him to "just spit it out".
"I was 13." Lars chokes out, the words barely leaving his mouth. After a moment, Gus slaps a hand over his mouth and turns away, holding back a sob. He takes some desperate stabilising breaths.
"... okay. So why?" He asks. Lars bites at his lip, blinking hard. He inhales repetitively again, trying to get the words to happen.
"I saw dad... I thought it was normal... then it-... it became a habit." Lars winces as he finishes his sentence, shutting his eyes and covering his ears with his hands, pressing them in as hard as possible to block out any noise. He can't bare to see or hear whatever reaction this gets from either of them.
Gus sighs, crouching to the floor as he desperately tries to hold back from sobbing. Karin crouches next to him, rubbing his back to try and provide some kind of comfort.
"What do we do?" Gus asks quietly and shakily.
"I don't know." Karin replies quietly.
Lars slowly emerges from his self-sensory-deprivation, cautiously making sure whatever reaction he's getting isn't too much to handle. He peels his eyes open to see Karin crouched next to gus, quietly comforting him.
A deep pang of something strikes lars right in his chest.
For a moment he asks God why he had to be cursed with this pain at touch. But then he quickly remembers why - it's punishment. He killed his mother on his way into this world. So this is just what he deserves.
He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut hard before suddenly standing up, and shaking his hands up.
"I'm fine." He announces suddenly. Gus and Karin look up at him with astonished concern. Lars smiles politely right back at them. "You were inviting me for dinner?"
They continue to stare in shock. Lars waits expectantly for an answer, acting as if nothing ever happened.
"Lars you can't just-" Gus's breath hitches. Lars tilts his head with a questioning frown.
"Um, how about I go back and finish getting it ready, and you two can talk and... come over when you're ready." Karin suggests. Gus looks at her as if to say "what are you doing? I can't do this alone". Karin looks at him as if to say "Go on, get on with it."
Karin backs out of the garage and hops through the yard back to the house.
Gus sighs, wringing his hands awkwardly as he watches her go. Lars's mask drops ever so slightly, but he forces it back on, smiling brightly at Gus.
Gus never wanted to think of his brother as creepy or unnerving. He knew Lars wouldn't hurt a fly. But when he watches him repress his emotions so deeply like that, it fills him with a sickening dread. It's uncanny.
"Lars, you-... you can't just pretend that everything's fine. That's not gonna work anymore." Gus tries. Lars hums in a questioning tone. Gus rolls his eyes. "Jesus Christ Lars just drop it! You're not doing anyone any good by shoving it all down like that. You can't pretend anymore, Lars. I see right through it. So don't even try that on me."
Lars struggles to keep the mask up. He fidgets with a deep breath. He gulps. "I'm fine."
"No. You're not fine, Lars. You've not been fine since.... since forever! You can't just act as if... as if growing up watching dad cut himself didn't affect you. You can't act as if walking in on him dead on the floor didn't severely traumatise you because I know it did!" Gus starts to raise his voice. The mention of their dad's death throws away any chance Lars had of keeping the mask up, and he's sent into a frenzy of hard blinking and uncomfortable fidgeting.
"... Sorry. But you know I'm right. You need to talk to someone, Lars. I don't care who. Me, Karin, Mrs Gruner..." Gus trails off as he realises he doesn't really know anyone else in Lars's life. If there even is anyone else. Lars takes a deep breath, and forces the smile back on again, with a polite nod. It makes Gus feel sick. He really won't stop, will he?
"Whatever. At least talk to a doctor. And stop hurting yourself... it scares me." Gus admits. Lars sheepishly pulls his sleeve over the bandages. He clears his throat.
"Dinner?" He says, near a whisper, pointing to the door.
"Sure." Gus says with a shrug, knowing it's a losing battle to try and get through to him any more.
Karin places the plates on the table with a smile. Lars smiles back with a quiet "thank you".
He blinks hard and repetitively. He's struggling. There's a reason he's avoided this house. His getting hit with flashback after flashback. All those nights eating dinner with his dad silently. Hearing him grumble about something or other. Lars doesn't really have an appetite. But he cannot let them know. So he forces it all down, until he can't anymore. He puts his knife and fork together with a polite smile.
"Is that all you can eat?" Karin asks, seeing that he's left quite a lot - and she didn't give him a large portion. Lars gives a polite nod.
"Oh yeah, it was delicious, thank you." He replies, not wanting Karin to see it as an insult to her cooking.
Dinner goes by awkwardly. Karin and Gus can't bring themselves to make normal conversation with the big elephant in the corner waiting to be addressed. Lars just doesn't think to talk about anything.
Lars insists on helping them clear up. Karin and Gus can't help but stare at him.
Lars escapes back to his Garage as soon as the opportunity arrises. Karin and Gus watch him, full of concern. Karin rests her head on his shoulder.
"What do we do?" Karin says quietly.
"I don't know." Gus replies.
The next morning, Gus and Karin found themselves feeling like they were trying to coax a cat into its carrier to take it to the vet.
"Cmon Lars, We made the appointment already, we can't waste it." Gus insisted.
"Just come, talking will help." Karin said, trying to be more empathetic.
Lars kept his arms folded and shook his head. The thought of speaking to a stranger filled him with fear. Let alone talking about all the things wrong with him. They'll judge him. Throw him in an institution. It'll be a waste of time, because Lars knows he can never be fixed.
"Lars, I promise, if you aren't happy you'll be free to leave. But you should at least try. You can't live like this forever." Gus said, trying to be empathetic. Lars sighs. He thinks for a while.
"Promise you won't let them touch me?" He asks sheepishly.
"Promise. We already warned them." Gus says with a sigh, glad they're finally getting somewhere. After a moment of silence, Lars shrugs and stands up.
"Yes?" Karin asks with excitement.
"If it'll make you happy." Lars forces a smile. Karin celebrates and they all head out to the car. Lars makes sure to pick up his blanket.
He fidgets nervously in the backseat of the car. He feels like a kid again.
He never really saw a doctor many times as a kid. He had all the basic check ups as a young child but eventually his father stopped taking him. If he was in pain or sick, he was mostly just left to suffer, until he was old enough to reach the medicine cabinet and open the childproof lid on the bottle of tylenol. Sometimes Gus would help him.
Of course this means that he's terrified. Having not been for nearly 2 decades, he doesn't really know what to expect.
His legs bounce frantically in the waiting room and he bites his lip and blinks hard.
"Do you want us to go in with you?" Karin asks quietly. Lars quickly shakes his head. He doesn't want to burden them, and if he somehow ends up in a vulnerable situation in front of this doctor, he definitely doesn't want to subject Karin and Gus to that. Karin nods back, accepting his boundaries, though she struggles to believe that's in his best interest. The poor guy looks terrified.
Lars almost jumps out of his skin when his name is called, but he quickly stands up, and follows the doctor into her office. She seems nice, so far.
"You can just take a seat there." She says, motioning to the medical examination bed to the side of the room. Lars stares at it for a while.
The room is confronting. The lights are harsh and bright, and the walls are covered in colourful posters and diagrams of various parts of the body that make Lars squeamish just to look at them. He blinks hard.
"That's okay, thank you." He replies quietly, gripping onto his blanket. The doctor looks at him for a moment, but does a good job hiding her confusion and judgement, simply shrugging.
"Okay, well. Why don't you start by telling me your name?" She asks, mostly just for formalities. She already knows Lars. She was the doctor he saw way back when he was young. She wasn't sure she'd ever see him again. Seeing him now, standing much taller than her, a fully grown adult, was astonishing. But also a little sad.
"um, Lars. Lindstrom." Lars replies, saying his surname as quickly as possible as if it hurts to say.
"I'm Dr. Berman. But you can call me Dagmar." She says with a flash of a polite smile. "Now why don't you tell me what bought you in today?"
Lars fidgets with the blanket, staring at the floor and blinking hard. Dagmar waits patiently.
"Gus and Karin told me I should come but... I'm fine." He says with a shrug, flashing a quick smile. Fake, of course.
"Oh, do you know why they wanted you to come?" She asks, leaning back against the countertop, trying to make herself seem less intimidating.
Lars shrugs, staring at the floor. Dagmar knows theres more of an answer to come, so she waits, letting silence hang uncomfortably in the air.
"I dunno I guess they're just worried... about me. After, yknow..." Lars trails off. Dagmar waits to see if he finishes the thought, but he doesn't.
"After what?" She prompts gently. Lars bites his lip, blinking hard. He clears his throat, shuffling on his feet.
"... I'm sorry for wasting your time." Lars says eventually, about to bolt for the door, before Dagmar stops him in his tracks.
"You found your dad dead?"
Lars lets out a harsh exhale. He blinks faster and faster. He clears his throat. He shrugs, as casually as possible. "I guess so."
"Do you think about that a lot?" She asks. Lars is surprised by her bluntness. A part of him finds it comforting. He never really thought about it, but now he realises he hates when people sugarcoat it, tiptoe around the truth. Use euphemisms like "pass away" or "kick the bucket." When people reach out to touch his shoulder with a dramatic pout and puppy eyes saying "I'm sorry for your loss". He appreciates the gesture, but somehow, having someone state the truth like that, feels better.
Lars nods.
"Must be hard, dealing with all that alone." She says, turning around to write down a few notes.
Lars shrugs. Then after a few quiet moments, he nods. Dagmar nods back. She waits, watching as Lars fidgets in almost every fashion a person could. Twirling the blanket in his hands, shuffling on his feet. Blinking, sniffing, rubbing his nose. Then he halts, taking in a loud inhale.
"... I cut myself." Lars finally blurts out. He clears his throat, turning to face the wall. He leans his forehead against it, scrunching his eyes shut. He doesn't want to see her response. He doesn't want to see her scared face and wide eyes and panicked expression, just like how Gus and Karin did when they found out. "That's why they wanted me to come."
"Why do you cut yourself?" Dagmar replies, almost immediately. Lars frowns, standing up straight again. Where was the tremor in her voice? The pitch raising upwards, volume dropping? The stutter, the gentle tone as if talking to a scared puppy? He turns to look at her, and she looks back. No signs of fear. No signs of panic. This is just another day for her.
"Dad said it takes the pain away." Lars says quietly.
"Does it?" Dagmar asks. Lars shrugs, and then nods.
"It helps me sleep." Lars says, scuffing the floor with his shoes. Dagmar nods, and turns to write down some notes again.
"I know it's bad." Lars says, disarming any lecturing he feels he's about to recieve.
"Then why do you do it?" Dagmar asks, without a hint of judgement.
"Habit." Lars shrugs. Dagmar turns to lean against the counter again.
"How long have you been doing it for?"
"Since I was 13." Lars admits. Dagmar just nods.
"That's a long time." She states simply. Lars shrugs.
"I guess so."
"Have you ever tried to stop?" Dagmar asks. Lars nods.
"Didn't work." Lars replies simply. He moves to lean against the medical examination bed - perching right on the edge, still refusing to sit. Dagmar folds her arms.
"What if I gave you something to help you sleep? Do you think that would help?"
Lars shrugs, and then shakes his head. Dagmar looks at the clock, weary of the time. As much as she'd love to take all the time in the world to slowly coax Lars out of his shell, there are other patients to see.
"How did your father die?" She asks. She already knows, of course. News spreads fast in this town. Lars bites his lip, standing up again. He scrunches his eyes shut and faces the wall again.
"... He cut himself." Lars says, and then quickly covers his ears to hide from the world again. Dagmar waits for him to stop before speaking again.
"Are you not scared of ending up like him?"
Lars shakes his head. That's a lie, of course. He was terrified as soon as he realised he'd gone a little too far the night before.
Dagmar turns around and starts writing again. Lars looks up at the clock, watching the seconds hand tick by. Until the sound of tearing paper pulls him out of it, and he turns to see dagmar holding out a slip of paper for him.
"Sleeping pills. Just try them, see how it goes. Then come back and see me again. If it works, I'll write up another prescription, if not, we can talk about it more. How's that sound?"
Lars stares down at the paper for a while, and then hesitantly takes it. "Okay. Thank you."
"Any other questions?" Dagmar asks quickly, before Lars can bolt away.
Lars thinks for a while. He clears his throat, willing the lump in it to go away.
"Will I ever stop seeing it?" He asks shakily.
"Seeing what?" Dagmar asks.
"My dad.... dead..." Lars replies, scrunching his eyes shut.
"Maybe not." Dagmar replies after a while. "But it will get easier."
Lars sniffs, and then forces a smile as he nods at Dagmar, and leaves. Dagmar watches him go, sighing as she puts her hands in the pockets of her white coat. Still, she has work to do.
Lars stares at the pill bottle in his medicine cabinet. It sits next to his razor. His eyes dart between them. He's had the pills for a few days now, he just can't bring himself to take them. He's scared of them, even though he's not really sure why. Maybe he's scared they'll work too well. That they'll work, and he'll be forced to give up this habit that's served as a sort of comfort blanket for him. He knows he should give it up, but there's a part of him that doesn't want to.
But he thinks about that night when Karin found him. He thinks about how much he bled. He thinks about his dad. He thinks about Gus and Karin.
He picks up the bottle, and after a few tries struggling with the child-safety lid, he gets it open. He tips out one of the pills onto his hand. He throws it into his mouth and swallows. He quickly secures the lid on the pill bottle and throws it back in the medicine cabinet. He spares a glance at the razor, and slams the cabinet door before he has a chance to change his mind. He stares at himself in the mirror.
You're a man now, Lars.