Denmark x Reader: Bucket List Ch. 2

Denouement

     You were quite miffed. Walking around the mall you couldn’t believe your ill fortune. Someone had the audacity to grab the book that you had reserved and on top of everything you forgot to ask for Mr. Mannequin’s name. While his name remained a mystery somehow you did discover through their conversation that he came from Copenhagen to study law. By far, this came no where close to being one of your worst weeks and yet something felt off. There was something unsatisfying about the entire ordeal and you blamed this entirely on the wild-haired Dane. He as well as his antics were the highlights of your days and without them your days lacked sound.

     It lacked a voice.

     A loud, uncanny, insufferable voice.

     “Miss!” your shoulder jerked, “Have you seen this man?” A piece of plastic was shoved into your face; mind still whirring you barely recognised the blurry image of the man was indeed Mr. Mannequin. Still perplexed you looked up to meet cerulean irises. It was him.

     “He’s behind you!” you looked him dead in the eye. Mr. Mannequin was addled indefinitely but he still complied. With a gasp he was met with his reflection. The most incredulous look crossed his features, but as he did like to think himself an actor so he let a somewhat exaggerated pout fix itself on his face.

     “Hey!” he whined, “That’s cheating.“ He was sitting next to you on the bench a little too close as what one may consider to be ‘polite’. You chuckled at this, he really did remind you of one of those large guard dogs that enjoyed snuggling up to their masters unaware of their hulking mass.

     “Stop whining, Mathias,” you said tasting the sounds on your tongue, “It’s not becoming of you.” His ears perked up at the sound of his name. You were surprised when you saw the intensity in the pools of his eyes. Suspicion and shock swam in his eyes trying to discern how you came about his name. You forced yourself to stare back. The serious atmosphere did not last long when you broke out in laughter. The stoic look didn’t quite suit Mathias and you smiled when his ebullience returned. “I read your ID.”

     Mathias emitted a soft ‘Oh’ not knowing quite what to say. The two of you fell into a silence. It wasn’t awkward nor was it companionable, the two simply didn’t have anything worth saying.

     “I didn’t realise it was you,” said Mathias breaking the silence, “you look different from behind.” You looked at him them his eyes cast down to his fiddling thumbs, the distance between you too practically non-existent. Being so near you could see freckles you hadn’t seen before. “You were number eight so far,” he said counting his fingers.

     “Did you get slapped?” you asked noticing the way he cradled his cheek.

     “For some explicable reason Number Four did not find it very funny.” You marvelled at the man beside you, any sane person would’ve stopped and yet Mathias refused to give in. But then again he could just be a simpleton. “So, you know mine, Fuglefrø” his eyes looked hopeful, “what’s your name?”

     “First of all I hope ‘foo-le-froi’ means divine goddess of eternal slumber,” you never seemed to have to watch your words with the Danish man, “and second of all my identity shall remain a secret.”

     “Well then,” Mathias rose with a flourish, “until fate allows our paths to cross again.” He gave you a mock bow and you almost gave him your hand. Almost. You stayed there on the bench watching him fade into the crowd. You felt accomplished somehow and revelled in saying in name as if it were a new toy.

*****

     Mathias was starting to doubt himself. It has been several days now without even catching a glimpse of his Fuglefrø. He was beginning to think the dramatic exit was no longer worth it. Like fate, Lukas was not sympathetic in his search of the (nationality) girl yet he didn’t show any disdain so Mathias took that as a good sign. Lukas did advise Mathias to keep busy with other things besides Operation Fuglefrø and while he meant working on his college essays the Dane decided to do something he deemed more ‘productive’. Mathias has taken to practicing his bits.

     He would go up to groups of people, seamlessly joining their conversations before whispering, ‘So are we gonna kill him?” He had begun his quest in library but it ended prematurely when he caused a girl to scream in panic so he had migrated to the mall. If he was lucky he would be able to slip a piece of paper in his victim’s hand that read ‘Egg Salad Sandwich 17:43’ in Lukas’ ‘doctor’ writing. Frankly, Mathias didn’t know what it meant either but he left the meaning of words to the poets and philosophers. Presently speaking, Mathias was waiting for his next targets, one had to be careful, some people really couldn’t take a joke. So far, the Dane had been accused of sexual assault twice in the eleven times he’d tried this gag and had begun to avoid groups made up of mostly women. However groups made up of girls usually gave the best reactions and Mathias was feeling lucky today.

     He trained his eyes on a group of three girls, why they always seemed to travel in threes he couldn’t fathom, and followed at a ‘innocent’ distance. The hardest part of this gag was truly finding an opening. So he followed and followed and then followed some more. Shit. The girls in front of him really left no Mathias-sized opening in which he could’ve slipped in.

     “So,” Shorty said, after following now for twelve minutes he had taken to calling the one on the right Shorty, while the other two were subjected to being named Middle and Lefty, “you haven’t seen him in like eight days now?”

     “Yeah,” Middle replied, “Sophs keeps making fun of me.”

     “Well it is your fault for not getting his number,” Lefty shot back.

     “What?” Shorty exclaimed, ”___ why don’t you talk about him with me?”

     “Tess,” Lefty said, “trust me, she gets all happy and starts hitting things.”

     “And you moved out, remember?” Middle interjected.

     “Aw, you miss me, don’t you?” both Middle and Lefty laughed at this.

     “Yeah we miss you,” Middle said, “It’s not the same without you waking me up at dawn to run.” This was beginning to bore Mathias, he had pranks to pull and a girl to find.

     After their conversation turned to soft-served ice cream of all things God finally decided to gift Mathias with an opening, Middle needed to tie her shoelaces. The girls stopped and he quickly walked up to them hearing something that vaguely sounded like, “Death by shoelace”.

     Shorty noticed him first, moving fast to hide behind Lefty as an impromptu ‘meat shield’. Mathias realised that he was looming over them with his haste and height, he cursed himself but it was far too late now. He just had to deliver the line, “So are we gonna kill him?” it wasn’t his best run but it was definitely better than nothing.

     “Are we?” the look Lefty gave him was bone chilling and Shorty actually giggled. Mathias’ wit was at a loss and was thoroughly confused when he heard Middle laugh. She finally looked up from her beat up laces and Mathias could not believe his chances.

     “Fruglefrø?”

     “Mathias?” her eyes wide and brows furrowed.

     “Wait, ___,” Shorty asked, “you know this guy?” ___ cringed at the sound of her name and the glared at the smile that adorned his face.

     “___, huh,” Mathias remarked, “pretty name.” Despite his joy the girl before almost looked like she wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

     “Thanks,” her reply was dry but she was no longer scowling, “but it’s my turn for a dramatic exit.” She ran off with her confused friends in tow shouting something that sounded like “Tally-ho!”

     Mathias went home that day with the most idiotic smile on his face. He garnered a few stares saying ‘___’ in every voice, accent and pitch he could muster, playing with the sounds. Lukas was still reading when Mathias returned. “Judging by the look on your face,” his friend’s voice as monotone as ever, ”I presume you know her name?”

     “Yeah,” Mathias already opening a can of victory beer, “Her name’s ___.”

     “Did you get her number?”

     “I di--,” Mathias was choking on his beer realisation hitting him, “Shit!”

     Operation Fuglefrø was nowhere near being finished