Greenland, Present Day

Having been treated to a warm shower and a bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce (but without seal), I feel less like a cavewoman and more like myself. Still far from an alluring vixen though. Since my own clothes are dirty from the trek, I wear sweatpants and a hoodie from Mikk's closet. I must have dropped my backpack, with spare clothes inside, outside the cave. I can't even remember doing it. And my phone still lies cracked on jagged rocks.

I'm really a mess right now. I have nothing and no one. Except for the man who just cooked me a bowl of spaghetti and borrowed me his clothes.

While eating, I told Mikk all about my encounter with the Viking man forgotten by time and cursed by nature. But there are gaps in my story, as I've purposely avoided telling him why I was leaving his parents' house so early this morning.

Those gaps line up like a parade of elephants between us as I utter the last words of the impossible saga. "And that's how I ended up here," I conclude, stringing the last strand of spaghetti around my fork.

From his position on the kitchen sofa--not next to me and not even right across, but rather diagonally positioned--Mikk nods. "I'll come with you there tomorrow," he promises. "Hopefully, we can find it again. It's not safe for you to walk around these shores alone. People disappear out there, never to be seen again. The lands take them, whole cloth. No remains are ever found."

I swallow the spaghetti piece. "You think you can keep me safe?" I attempt a small smile.

"I'll do what I can," Mikk replies, not returning the smile. "I know a fair bit about the dangers out there at least, and how to avoid them."

The room falls quiet as we both try to avoid mentioning one of the many elephants in the room. This one is particularly insistent-- bouncing up and down while trumpeting to get our attention--as the clock nears nine p.m on the wall. It's the question of where I will sleep tonight if we're not going back to the cave until the morning.

I don't want to leave, as this is the only place I feel at home on this island, but my head is too scattered to tell any more truths right now. I know only one solution.

"Do you have anything to drink?" I ask. "Something strong, I mean. I think I need it after the day I've had. To be brave enough to tackle tomorrow."

Finally, he smiles back. "I think I got just the thing." Rising from his chair, he gestures for me to follow upstairs. "Come with me."

Soon, I sit down on the floor in the big room on the upper floor, as there is nowhere to sit but the bed, and sitting there feels like one step too far. Surrounded by bright colors and heightened emotions of Mikk's painting, my frayed nerves are soothed. I start to believe in my own experiences. Because why wouldn't impossible things be possible in such a place of wonder? There are glaciers on this island that have been frozen for thousands of years, so why wouldn't the same forces be able to preserve a man through the centuries as well?

Folding his legs to sit down next to me, although not too close, Mikk presents a bottle filled with comforting amber liquid, retrieved from one of the shelves lining the walls. Whiskey from the looks of it. The bottle clinks as he puts it, together with two square tumblers, on the wooden floorboards. "You think this will do the trick?" he asks.

I pick up one of the tumblers and hold it out for him to pour into. "Looks like exactly what I need." I down the strong brew as soon as it lands in the glass. It swirls into my belly like fire, loosening my senses and dulling my brain.

Raising an eyebrow at my swift drinking speed, Mikk pours himself a drink as well and downs it just as quickly.

"You just left," he says, a veil of hurt draped over the words. Apparently, he's unable to ignore the parade of elephants any longer. Liquor has a tendency to do that. "I thought you said you wouldn't run again."

"I wasn't running," I reply, looking down into the drops in the bottom of my glass. The brew smells like smoke and tar. Just like Mikk. "I was going home."

"You were running from me. Even though you promised you wouldn't."

I can't deny the accusation. I was running before fire turned to ice once again. Surely, Mikk knows all about how cold things can get, living in the Arctic and all. "I figured it was easier that way." I shrug, pretending like I'm unaffected. "To not say goodbye, I mean."

"It certainly didn't make things easy for me." His dark eyes are filled with sadness and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him. But one more truth still lingers in the distance between us, impossible for me to bridge without speaking the words out loud.

"I figured you do this all the time," I mumble. "Tourists come and tourists go, I mean. So me leaving wouldn't really matter to you."

"What do you mean?" He gives me a look of bewilderment and pours another glass of whiskey to swallow my bitter words with.

"I heard you talk to your coworker during the boat tour, Mikk. I'm just one in a string of tourists for you. You have seduced other women before I arrived on this island and there will be more after I leave."

"Fucking Mads," he mumbles. "Always talking so damn much. What I do isn't his business."

"Was he wrong though?"

Mikk sighs. "No... or maybe. I can't deny what I've done in the past, but neither you nor he can tell the future. And I didn't seduce anyone or tell them lies. The women I've... been involved with have always known what we had was temporary."

Wind rattles against the windows. Waves cluck against the cliffs outside. We sit quietly.

"I knew that too..." I mumble, blinking to keep stupid tears from flowing.

"I didn't mean-"

I don't let him speak.

"I knew what we had was just a fling, Mikk," I continue, blathering like a drunk fool, although I probably hadn't ingested enough whiskey yet for it to affect my emotions. They're scrambled and messy anyway. "But I'm stupid. My heart is stupid. Because I was starting to feel something more. I was... falling for you, I guess. But I can't allow myself to be that stupid. Not again. My heart wouldn't survive the embarrassment. So that's why I left."

I reach to pour whiskey into my glass upon this admittance, hoping it will erase my shame, but Mikk catches my hand before I can grab the bottle. His eyes are as amber as the liquid, colored by the glowing sunlight from outside.

"You're not stupid, Saga," he assures me, his hand wrapping around mine like a warm blanket. "I can't deny that I've had flings with tourists in the past. I mean, can you blame me? The dating pool on Greenland is very shallow... Like we were ten kids in my gymnasium class. Four girls, two were my cousins and a third was a second cousin."

"And the fourth girl?" I ask in an attempt to distract him as I wipe stray tears off my cheeks.

Mikk looks down, grabbing the bottle to pour me another serving. "That was Nora... I asked her to marry me."

"Oh..." is all I can say, unsure whether I should pry more into his past.

"So yeah, I can admit that I have gotten involved with women visiting the island sometimes," he continues. "We have fun for a few days before they leave, no strings attached. I'm not going to ask anyone to stay here, at the edge of the world, for my sake. I haven't wanted to. Not before, at least... But you, you were different... I didn't want to let you go, even if I knew I would have to eventually."

I'm not sure I believe him. Perhaps it's just another casanova move. He wants me to feel I'm special when I'm not.

"Why?" I ask. "Why was I different? How do I know that's not what you say to everyone?"

"How do I prove what I feel?" With a grimace, Mikk downs another gulp of whiskey. "All I can tell you is that I've never brought anyone here before. With the other women, I've just come with them to their hotel room. So I've never shown anyone this." He swoops his arm out, gesturing at the paintings around us. "Or ask my mom if you don't believe me. She's always badgering me to find a nice girl and settle down. You're the first girl since Nora that I've walked into their home hand in hand with. I'm quite sure she was already planning our wedding..."

I want to believe him. But can I? Can I leave myself open to getting hurt again when my heart is still bleeding from the last assault.

"I've been told I'm special before," I say, allowing bitter liquid to reveal bitter truths. "By my fiance Stefan. Then I found out he'd been cheating on me. Not just once or twice, but repeatedly. For years. Since before he even asked me to marry him. We worked together and apparently most of our colleagues knew, but no one wanted to be the one to tell me. Maybe you did the same to your fianceé... Sneaking around with tourists while she was clueless."

He takes another sip, slowly shaking his head while swallowing the strong liquid. "I did no such thing to Nora. I may have crushed her heart but I didn't cheat on her. I wouldn't do that. We were just too young..."

"So what did you do?" Perhaps the whiskey is talking now, making me brave enough to ask such things.

"I ghosted her, I guess. I think that's what it would be called in English."

"How do you ghost someone you're engaged to?" I'm kind of asking for me, as I wish I could just slip away from Stefan without him even noticing.

Mikk pulls his hands through his hair, making it stand in all directions. "Nora was so smart. Too good for me. She got accepted to a university program in Copenhagen and I promised I would come with her. But I only made that promise so that she wouldn't turn down the offer. So she left, thinking I would join her soon, and I stayed right here. I couldn't leave. My grandma was sick and... to be honest, I think I was scared of leaving. So I avoided Nora. I stopped taking her calls and replying to her emails. I probably hurt her in doing so." He sighs, focusing on swirling the liquid in his whiskey tumbler. "But she's a marine biologist now and I hear she's doing well. She's better off without me."

Not knowing what to say, I awkwardly pat his shoulder. "I'm sure she's not..." I mumble.

Ignoring my awkward attempt at consolation, Mikk chugs the rest of his whiskey. "Anyway," he continues. "When I met you I felt something I haven't felt since Nora. You were running while I was standing still. That's why we needed each other. I could stop your trajectory while you might pull me with you. We could go at a leisurely speed together. I knew you would leave, but for once, I considered asking you to stay. Or... perhaps to take me with you. I know it's stupid but I couldn't help but dream."

Putting my glass down, I lean my head on his shoulder. "You're not stupid," I emphasize. "I felt it too." Braving myself to take the first step--risking having my heart broken once again--my lips find a stubbled jaw. I can feel the whiskey on his breath as my mouth inches closer to his.

"Felt?" he murmurs, his voice low as the whispering wind outside. It's not as much a question as an invite.

"I still feel it," I whisper right before our lips unite. Drops of amber make the kiss intoxicating. I'm drunk on whiskey and lust.

The mess that is my life fades away in a flurry of kisses. Perhaps we're both stupid, but at least we're stupid together.

"I do too," he murmurs between soft pecks and hungry nudges.

Everything is a mess. Stefan is probably still trying to reach me. I may have lost my job by now. My parents still have no idea where I am. Oh, and there's a six-hundred-year-old Viking in a cave nearby, waiting for us to reunite him with his lost love.

But in the mess, we find each other. We need each other. We're like the paint strokes on the canvases around us, seemingly messy and aimless until they together form something else. Something beautiful. Something perfect.

I need him and he needs me. It doesn't have to be more complicated than that.

Unable to deny the pull between us any longer, I climb atop of him. In the urge to be close, I end up wrestling him to the floor. The sensation of his muscular body beneath me is a more potent tonic than the whiskey.

"Saga.." Mikk murmurs, stroking strands of hair away from my face. "Could we maybe-" He grimaces.

"What?" I ask, worried I've done something wrong. Maybe I'm moving too fast. Maybe I misunderstood.

"The hardwood floor is... well, hard." He smiles, knocking his hand on the planks below him. "And it has nails. Can we maybe move to the bed?" He points at the fluffy mattress filled with blankets and pillows right beside us. It does look preferable to the rough floor that is admittedly hurting my knees a bit.

I nod, taking his hand so we can rise together.

The whiskey bottle is left on the floor as we make our way to the bed. We fall together onto covers as soft as moss. I see them--Björn and Gudrun-- and I see us. The images blur together. The backdrop is the same. Endless sky, red sun, blue waves. Nothing ever really changes. Not nature. Not people. Not love.

I went to one of the most lonely places in the world, but I've never felt like I belong more. I found everything I never looked for because I didn't know it existed.

Kisses turn to strokes. Panting turns to moaning. Clothes are shed at impressive speed.

Right before Mikk pulls me tight, uniting us in every way, I note that I was right about men with big hands. Hard muscles and warm skin envelop me as I straddle him on the bed while we move in unison, each sensation building on the one before it until our bodies are about to burst like buds in spring.

We become the paintings around us, wild, free, and primal. Together we dance in the warm light of the midnight sun. The sun won't set on us, just like we won't let go of each other.

Everything is a mess. A beautiful mess.