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le-amewzing · 2 years

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the first season

Such a dark movie and yet Oskar and Eli's bond shines so brightly amidst it all. :')

Fic: "the first season" [FFN] [AO3] [pfio]

Pairings/Characters: Oskar Eriksson/Eli, with a minor OC

Rating: light T

Words: ~3,330

Additional info: romance, friendship, light angst, fluff, 3rd person POV

Summary: Eli is wary as she and Oskar start a new life on the run. But, Oskar thinks, her list of worries ought to be a short one.

The train clambers along, and Oskar gives in with every clink and clank, letting his body adjust to the mechanical jostling with every mile the machine puts between them and Blackeberg. It's not as noisy a ride as it could be, but it's not quiet, either. Sometimes he frets that he misses something Eli says when they hit a particularly bumpy section of track.

He taps against the chest hiding her, just a few short raps: Okay?

He has to lean forward and strain his ears with the train moving, but Eli's soft knocks come from within: Yes. Bored.

Oskar smiles and stifles a laugh. He wonders if this is the longest Eli's ever been boxed up…anywhere. He makes a mental note to ask her when he can, when it's safe to do so.

That leads him to his next thought, wondering when they'll both have a chance to stretch their legs. They left his hometown quickly and have been traveling for half a day so far, heading west. He bought his ticket himself, yes, but he's waiting on Eli's guidance for when they ought to get off.

Vivid memories of last night flash through his mind's eye. Oskar's blocked out the worst of it—what he remembers of the violence, anyway, because Eli kept him from seeing too much of what she did to Jimmy and the others—but there are things he'd rather not forget.

Eli pulling him out of the red-blooming water.

The silence of the pool save for the droplets rolling off him as he shivered with fright at what Conny's brother had attempted.

Feeling safe as Eli led him by the hand out of there.

Oskar having one shining moment of brilliance, knowing that incident would change everything, and deciding to rend his jacket with Jimmy's knife, his hand shaking around a hilt already slicked with crimson and then passing the fabric to Eli so she could soak it in blood. "So they think I'm dead, too," he said.

And Eli's slight shrug and nod before ducking back to the pool while Oskar quickly dried and dressed in the locker room before the mad dash home to gather a few necessities and whatever Eli would need.

Because, of course, there's nothing for them in Blackeberg anymore.

Eli's been relieved but markedly quiet since Oskar made his decision to go on the run with her, and he hasn't put his finger on why just yet. Her only instructions at the station were to avoid the city—"Especially since you have distant relatives in Stockholm," she pointed out last night—and so he selected tickets for Karlstad, the furthest west a ticket he could buy at the time. The irony makes him chuckle darkly. Karlstad, known for its sun…and here he is, bringing a vampire right to the middle of that warmth.

With so much of the day behind them, the daylight evaporates. The train's stops mean a dwindling crowd, and Oskar peeks out in the aisle, checking once, twice, three times before tapping on the chest: All clear.

Eli doesn't emerge right away. She waits until the train rolls into the station at Karlstad properly before climbing out. Then she stretches her limbs like a cat woken from its nap and occupies the bench across from Oskar. "We will switch trains soon."

Oskar pulls his spare scarf from his knapsack and leans forward, making one loop around Eli's neck and knotting it gently above where her heart doesn't beat. "Is there a destination you have in mind?"

She toys with the ends of the scarf. They both know she doesn't need it, but Eli's still getting used to Oskar's gestures of kindness. "Oslo," she breathes.

He blinks in surprise. "Over the border?" He panics. He abandoned his identification at home—what use for it does a [supposedly] dead boy have?

Eli cocks her head to one side, unaware of these concerns. "Let me handle the details," she says.

…truth be told, that does set Oskar at ease. Eli is the one person he trusts absolutely in this world, and he smiles, because he knows she'd disagree with him referring to her even as a "person."

When the conductor calls for the train to empty in Karlstad, Oskar and Eli leave together, as if they boarded together, just a regular pair of young Swedes, perhaps visiting family for a long weekend. But Oskar follows Eli's lead, dodging the ticket counter this time and ducking under the watchful eyes of security and ticket collectors, entering a Norway-bound train from the back of a cargo-laden carriage.

Oskar, still human, will never be as fast as Eli, and he almost misses the ledge when they hop aboard during their one chance when the security shift changes. Thankfully, Eli's already lugged her chest and thrown it in back, and she grabs Oskar's back with one hand and his bag with the other, hauling both inside and sliding the door behind him quietly shut. "At least no one is chasing us this time," he says, breathless, a laugh half escaping him.

But Eli's dark eyes flash at his ill-timed joke, and she peeks out the door before locking it and settling down in front of it. She remains rigid as a stone statute even when the train whistle blows and they start chugging along.

Oskar frowns and comes to sit beside her. Eli won't move, but he reaches out anyway, covering her clenched fist with his hand, wrapping his fingers around her fist, for himself perhaps as much as for her.

Stowing two waifs away in a cargo carriage works. It's something out of the books Oskar read growing up, and he's amazed by Eli's plan to bury him deep beneath mildewed sacks while she hides under layers of cloth in her chest, but they cross the Swedish–Norwegian border that night. Either Eli's plan is just that brilliant or they have immense luck with a lazy inspector too tired to do a proper sweep, but Oskar and Eli arrive in Norway with none the wiser.

After the border check, Eli unearths Oskar and they return to their watch by the door. Eli is as alert as ever (Oskar tries not to think why she's so energized, that she should be sated for a long while after how she left his bullies), but Oskar's eyelids droop. A few minutes after returning to their chilly spot on the floor in front of the door, his head lolls, and he lists to the left, propped up by Eli's icy shoulder.

"… Oskar."

He doesn't want to wake yet.

"Oskar." Eli shakes him, gently.

He rubs his eyes and glances behind him. "It's light out," he notices.

Eli gets to her feet. "You needed to sleep, but now we need to leave."

"The train's still moving, Eli!"

She drags her chest towards the door and tosses him his bag. "The train is slowing down," she corrects. "This station is bigger than Karlstad. We can't be here when the train pulls in."

Oskar furrows his brow. "Eli, you can fly—but I can't," he reminds her.

That stops Eli in her tracks. Her dark curls bounce as she turns and studies him anew, reminded of his mortality. Then she paces back and forth in front of the door. "…we go the moment the train slows enough. Yes?"

He nods, and Oskar stands, too, and he rubs Eli's arms reassuringly, even pulls her into a brief hug.

When the din grows outside as the train ambles into the station, that's their signal. Eli unlatches the door and tosses her chest and his bag out; their luggage goes tumbling. Then she turns and holds her hand out for him.

"Is it safe?"

"I can fly," she quips, and there's a hint of mirth in her dark, glittering eyes, having the chance to use his own words against him.

Oskar places his hand in hers, lets Eli pull him close, and closes his eyes. But this time it's not so terrifying, what he's not seeing. There's no metallic scent of fresh blood in the air or eerie silence. There's the awful mechanic cacophony of the train as it fades behind them and the scent of the crisp Oslo air that fills his lungs and runs its fingers through his hair as Eli takes her leap.

She lands, hard and heavy, just outside the train tracks. "Oskar, you can open your eyes," she tells him when she helps his feet find the ground.

He does and finds their belongings maybe twenty yards away. He jogs after his bag, still a distance away when Eli's already caught up to her chest.

"We'll go around the city from here on out," she calls to him.

Oskar frowns and hustles to her side. "Why avoid the city? No one would ever suspect us in Oslo."

"Two children show up on their own? Of course they would." She glances at him. "Your picture might hit the papers soon, if it hasn't already."

He doesn't remark. Oskar thinks fondly of the few good times he had with his father, but they're exactly that—few. He loved his mother…but there's only so much love a busy woman can spare even for her only child. "My parents won't search for my body," Oskar says, morosely, confidently.

Eli walks silently beside him.

"So who are we running from, Eli? Not my parents. Not the Håkans or Connys or Jimmys of the world." He says it, and he knows it to be true.

There's nothing for them in Blackeberg anymore.

But Blackeberg expects nothing of them anymore, either.

If Eli has a rebuttal, she keeps it to herself. She remains apprehensive and walks half a step ahead of Oskar, as if on the lookout for precisely one of the threats he listed…but she also looks back at him every few yards, as if borrowing some strength from the smile he has only for her.

Oskar has a limited amount of kronor, and he wants to use it sparingly. Even more so, he thinks they should cash in on Eli's treasures only when they absolutely need it. This means a few changes, their first several days in Norway.

First, on the off chance Eli's suspicions prove right, Oskar makes the decision to cut his hair. His fair looks and dark eyes fit in well with Oslo, of course, but it's going out of style around here, boys having hair his length; Conny and his gang weren't the only ones wearing their hair short like Americans these days.

He doesn't carry a pocket knife, and they don't have scissors amongst their emergency supplies, so Eli slips in and out of a well-to-do house in a nice-looking neighborhood one afternoon when no one's around. Oskar waits nervously behind the family's spare car, left parked in their driveway, but Eli returns without issue.

They go to the bathroom in a nearby public park, where Oskar can dampen the ends without catching a chill. He frowns at his reflection in the mirror, though, while Eli stands guard at the door. It will be a long while before he sees this boy again, he thinks, and he gives a lock by his ear a tug.

Eli spooks him, appearing in his shadow and reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. But she cups his cheek in her palm.

Oskar smiles against her cool skin. "I'll be quick," he promises.

Then, she's back at the door.

Many snips and ten minutes later, and Oskar thinks he's made a mistake. How do people do this for a living?! He's given himself chopped-up hair and— He yanks his hat on, red-faced, and rushes back to Eli, shoving the scissors into her hand. "Please, just return these."

Eli furrows her brow and does. She only sees later the disaster he made of his once-beautiful hair. But Eli's smile isn't patronizing, just sympathetic. She runs her hands over the close crop in spite of his moping and presses a small, soft kiss to his large forehead, wide open now with most of his fringe gone.

With his looks changed…a little…next is the matter of food and shelter.

Oskar packed a few days' worth of food and a water bottle when they left, and he's been sipping the water sparingly, but it's still halfway gone. His food? That will run out tomorrow.

He and Eli wander the streets, heading out each morning after finding a safe spot to stow her chest and his bag, and search for necessities. Their biggest problem is that, even in the outskirts of Oslo, everywhere is so lived-in, so there's no room for them.

And that's how the first week goes, living on the streets. Search for shelter, day in and day out. In the meantime, Oskar lives off scraps, no longer picky about garbage when he sees the barely touched things restaurants will throw out—and, sometimes, Eli will sneak into a store or home and get something fresh for him, just because, especially after she's found a "scrap" of her own to feed on.

The first week was hard, but the days blend into weeks and slowly build into a month, and it does get easier.

They find an old, two-story building along the Alna River towards the end of their second week. Made of stone with wood accents around the entryway and window frames, the signs plastered all over the façade decree the building abandoned and waiting action from the local government, to determine whether this ancestral home is historical. Until then, everyone is to KEEP OUT, as said in big, black, bold letters.

Oskar traces his fingers over the large sign on the door. His pale fingertips come away caked in dust and grime. "No one's been here in a long while," he states.

"It's perfect," Eli decides.

Well, for a vampire who doesn't need much, it must be. For Oskar, it's simply shelter. It doesn't provide much warmth; there are no lights and no sources of heat, though there's an old stove with a vent leading outside that might be useful still. If only he had an axe to chop wood and matches to light a fire.

But they make do. Eli familiarizes herself with the layout of their new home, constantly walking both floors during the daytime and walking the perimeter at night.

Oskar, not wanting Eli to shoulder their entire burden, ventures out into the nearby neighborhood, his hat still pulled snugly, just in case. This house is too far from the streets for them to keep living off scraps, so he walks through the closest lanes, perusing the faces of those who live here.

"Oi!"

He freezes for a second and slowly turns towards the source of the voice. Worse still is that that voice goes with a set of eyes staring directly at him. "Y-Yes?" he calls back.

The grandmotherly woman—with stone-colored hair grayer than his and Eli's new home—smiles warmly at him. "Ah, Swedish, yes?" she says, hearing his word and accent.

Oskar swallows a lump of anxiety. Then he plasters on a smile and jogs across the street to the woman. "Yes, Swedish," he answers.

"I thought so! You are the Svenssons' nephew, yes? From up the street? Olga told me all about you." She grins; some of her teeth are missing. Still, she seems harmless.

Oskar plays along. "Yes, Auntie Olga. I just arrived."

"Oh, how lovely! Ooh, stay right here—I have something for them." She toddles back into her house, leaving Oskar wide open for anyone else's scrutiny.

He bites his lower lip and glances left, right. But no one comes to see about the commotion.

The little old lady returns, holding out the bag for Oskar with a bright smile. Then her smile dims, and she squints at him. "Who are you?"

Oh. She's senile. Internally, Oskar scolds himself for even thinking of taking advantage…but his circumstances have changed. Now, he holds out an arm to her, which she takes. "I'm the Svenssons' nephew, ma'am. You know?" He points. "From up the road?"

She nods sagely. "Ah, yes, yes, yes. Olga told me all about you. Here, take these. It's all homemade, but it's not all sweets." She pinches his arm and laughs when he yelps. "Good thing, too! You're all skin and bone, boy!"

Despite her strange behavior, he smiles, grateful for her kindness. "Yes, I know. But I will eat well," he quips, hefting the bag of edible gifts. He hesitates. "Um, would you like some help back inside?"

"Goodness, no! But what a kind boy. Stop by and say 'hello' whenever you like while you're here, all right?"

Oskar nods and watches until she heads back in, safe and sound. "Yes, ma'am, I will."

Pretending to be the Svenssons' nephew is easy, since Old Lady Nansen gives Oskar all the details he needs to become Hans Svensson whenever they meet.

"But I don't like preying on her kindness," he confides in Eli one night.

"Is it like that?" Eli asks.

Oskar stares at the light of the broken camp light Nansen gave him. It's still usable with batteries; it's just that the thick glass protecting curious fingers from the filaments inside has cracked. "It feels like it. She gives me gifts all the time, and I've been pretending to be this boy who I don't even know if he exists for more than a month."

Eli sits beside him and nudges his arms, which have stopped. She nods at him, and he resumes spooning some of the canned food—another Nansen gift—into his mouth.

"…at least, it doesn't feel good."

"Oskar, did you talk with her, hoping to get something from her?"

"…no."

"Do you spend afternoons with her, listening to her stories, because you want something from her?"

He shrugs. But, really, he doesn't.

"Is it a bad thing, to run errands for her, for kronor and sweets and small gifts that you don't expect or ask for?"

His face flushes. When phrased that way, then, no, it doesn't sound predatory at all. "There's no way for a twelve-year-old boy to make a living," he points out, though his usual reminder that he'll be thirteen soon dies on his lips.

"Living and surviving are two different things," Eli says, resting against his left arm. "But I understand."

Oskar sets his food aside and peers down at her. "You do?"

"I don't want to hurt people, Oskar. I do what I have to, to survive."

He mulls that thought over. It occurs to him that, such as in the case of rescuing him back home, perhaps sometimes "want" and "need" are the same thing… His mind wanders back to his new benefactor. "Grandmother Nansen is kind, as if she were my own grandmother…as if I'm one of her family," he muses aloud.

Eli tenses.

"But…I don't think I could live here forever." It's a two-sided opinion. He can't bear the thought of being found out by Nansen's neighbors.

But, more importantly, there's his promise with Eli.

He tugs Eli's nearer hand under the blanket wrapped around him, threading her cold fingers with his, determined that one day she might catch some of his warmth. "So, Eli, where to next?"

Eli picks her head up off his shoulder and stares at him. "You don't like it here?"

He smiles. "It's nice. But you said we can't stay anywhere for too long, and I think I understand that now."

She takes a breath. "Oskar…"

He rests his forehead against hers. "One day, one week, one month, one year from now…I'll still be by your side, Eli, no matter what."

And, for the first time during their first season in this new life, Eli looks as if she has a little of that warmth in her, no longer shouldering the weight of the world alone.

Done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge as well as the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #13: time goes by) in the HPFC forum on FFN. I…rly love the 2008 movie, okay. I confess, the book (and short sequel) are still on my to-read list, but mostly bc I've read the synopsis and I've gotta steel myself for that, *lol*. But I've seen both the 2010 remake and the 2008 original, and the 2008 Swedish film just sticks with me so much, primarily bc of the performances of Kåre Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson/Elif Ceylan. I'm not sure that I'd rly want a straight-up sequel movie for the 2008 film, but just a short piece detailing their initial struggles…which led me to write this. I was fortunate to catch the movie on cable several weeks ago, reminding me of my fondness for these two and my hurt over their struggles. I genuinely think they'd be all right, under these circumstances. :') Especially given…in 1982, according to what I could find, it appears that high-speed railways hadn't arrived in Sweden yet (they came in the late 1980s/early 1990s, maybe?), so the first leg of their journey taking so long is plausible. And! Smthg I already knew: The use of DNA in forensics didn't come into use until the late 1980s, so Oskar and Eli's stunt with soaking one of his belongings to imply his death (minus a body) is also plausible. One just wonders how hard his family and the local police would look for him before jumping to conclusions (esp given the atmosphere of those charries in the movie). Lastly…the timing just worked out that this was ready ahead of Halloween! X'D Ah, well. Idr the last time I wrote anything with vampires, *lol*.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#let the right one in #oskar eriksson #eli (ltroi)#fanfic #mew writes too much

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