Title: Song of Silence

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers
AU, human names only
Genre: Romance, Friendship and a fair bit of Hurt & Comfort
Rating: T, but might go up to M
Pairings: Sweden/Finland, with side dishes of Denmark/Norway, Austria/Hungary, UK/US and Spain/Romano. Mentions of Estonia/Finland, Russia/Belarus, Germany/N. Italy, France/everything that moves (including, but not limited to UK/France, Sweden/France, Prussia/France), Austria/Prussia/Hungary (because, yes, they do have a complicated relationship) and a few others

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers or any of the characters except for a few OCs. I think this story is so far from the original fandom that I could probably have published it as an original fic if I had changed a few names. I chose not to, because the fandom is what ultimately inspired me to write it.

Summary:
Berwald grows up as a selectively mute boy - selectively in this instance meaning mostly by his own choice, but they had to label him somehow - in an environment that isn't exactly tolerant of his difference. It is only when he meets sign language teacher Liz, her husband Roderich and their strange, chaotic group of friends that he begins to truly live and enjoy his life. Growing up, he struggles to come to terms with his best friend Mathias' relationship with Lukas, the boy next door, and their subsequent departure after a fight with Mathias' parents. But when love finally hits Berwald, he begins to understand that sometimes, it doesn't matter what the others are saying and that there is no force in the world powerful enough to destroy the seed once it has been planted. Determined to win Tino's heart, he faces every kind of adversity – including annoying soon-to-be-ex-boyfriends, pride and prejudice, meddling friends, the reappearance of a childhood enemy, several accidents and an apparently infinite number of misunderstandings.

Or, in Romano's words: Berwald was born, had a shitty childhood, then met Liz, who dragged him into this mess she calls her life. He made some friends, who did their very best to turn him into somebody who's just as crazy as they are. And then he met Tino. That was the day Berwald finally did go crazy. From that day on, winning Tino's heart became his only goal in life. And boy, I wish him luck, even though he's a sappy idiot, because that's going to be one hard piece of work. Of course, it would help tremendously if they weren't both as incredibly dense and clueless as they are…

He is five years old when, for the first time, somebody notices that he is different.

Her name is Matilda, and she is his father's second wife. Well, actually she isn't the second wife yet, but she will be. Within the short span of a few months, she will have moved from being a friendly co-worker to being a lover, a housemate, a stepmother. He will even call her mother, to please her and Father.

He is such a pleasant child. Quiet, thoughtful, always anxious to please, and they love him for it.

And she is standing in front of him, tall and slender and beautiful, with her curly light brown hair (Mother's hair was blond and soft as feathers, he remembers), smiling down at him happily. "My, aren't you the cutest little thing!"

Actually, he isn't little. She's a tall woman, and he is only six years old, but the top of his head is already level with her solar plexus. He will be a giant one day, his father says. (Mother was small and delicate, with hands like a china doll).

He reaches out a hand. Politely, like he was taught to. " 'lo."

Her smile broadens. "Such a sweet boy!" She's in raptures. He views that as a promising sign. They'll get along just fine.

"Berwald, isn't it?" As if she didn't know. But he nods eagerly, just to please her, and Father, who's watching.

"I'm Matilda."

He knows that already, so he keeps looking at her expectantly.

"Are you a little shy? Don't worry, honey, that's alright. Now tell me, dear, are you already going to school?"

She should know that he doesn't, but will soon. Has Father not told her? He should tells her everything, because he likes her. People who like each other are supposed to always tell each other the truth.

He shakes his yet. "N't yet. Soon."

She looks a little perplexed, probably because he is so tall and she thought he was older, but then her smile is back. "Oh, you will love it! All the other children, you will make such good friends…" (It's a good thing she decided to become a librarian, not an astrologist, because she's dead wrong about that one). "Do you already have friends in the neighborhood, who will go to school with you?"

Berwald ponders this for a little while. It's a difficult question. Does he have friends in the neighborhood? There are other kids he plays with, or rather, tries to play with, but most are scared of him. Except Ivan, that is, but Ivan is a bully.

So no, he doesn't have friends. He has an enemy, though, does that count?

But then his face lightens up. Mathias. The boy who lives in the red house across the street. You could probably call Mathias his best friend, since they have been playing together, and fighting, and building snow castles and playing pranks since they could barely walk.

He smiles. "Th'r's one. M'thias. M' bes' friend."

"He means his best friend, "Father clarifies, and Berwald shoots him an annoyed look. He hates it when Father does that. Hates that Father is so obsessed with his pronunciation. ("You need to enunciate the words, son. E-nun-ci-ate. Say every letter.")

Matilda is frowning slightly. "You know," she says to Father, "there is something endearingly odd about that boy."

Berwald may not yet fully grasp the meaning of big words like endearing, but he is well able to recognize an insult, even a veiled one. It's all in the tone of voice, the inflexion, the way the words are drawn slowly or pushed into being with unnecessary force. He is not good at talking, yes.

But very good at listening.

Berwald is not as excited about school as most other children are, but once the year has begun, he finds that he actually quite likes it. He is a bright boy; he likes numbers and letters and pays attention to what the teacher is saying. He is well-behaved and quiet and he never talks in class - to be sure, he never talks when he is asked anything, either, but delivers a perfect written answer to any written question. The teachers are full of praise, and Father looks proud. They think he is just shy, overwhelmed by all the new faces and impressions. It is quite alright, they tell each other, the boy is an only child, and he has lost his mother at a very young age. He just needs some time to warm up, and then he'll be alright.

And Berwald, sitting quietly at the back of the classroom, watches them turn away with slight shrugs and apologetic smiles. They refuse to accept the simple truth and leave it as it is: Berwald doesn't like to talk. He has never liked to talk and never will. His silence is protection against the outside world, against embarrassment, against teasing, against revealing to much of himself, making himself vulnerable to others.

It is not a sullen or a stubborn silence. It just is. A part of him, like his eyes, his hands, his breath.

School is mostly an enjoyable experience. Berwald is a curious child, eager to learn, and he absorbs the knowledge presented to him in acceptably sized bites like a sponge, hungry for more.

There is, however, one thing that he refuses to do: he will not read aloud to the class. His first-grade teacher passes it off as shyness, and since she is a kind-hearted woman, she does not make much of an issue of it and simply leaves him alone. He will come around eventually. They always do.

First grade therefore is a ride without too many bumps. Berwald draws perfect letters into his blue notebook and adds and distracts with frighteningly intense concentration that makes Matilda laugh when she looks at him hunched at his desk with pursed lips and a tight frown. He plays endless, wordless games of hide and seek with Mathias, who isn't bothered by his silence as long as he's fun to play with.

He ignores Ivan's clumsy insults and rough shoves on the playground and the way home.

Ivan doesn't matter, he tells himself. He is just annoying, but he will go away eventually, if he realizes that he cannot provoke Berwald.

The year passes by, almost unnoticed.

His second-grade teacher is young and finds it difficult to cope with fifteen noisy children that can't sit still, so he's silently glad for the sixteenths who sits quietly at his desk in the corner. He decides not to bother Berwald, he has other problems to deal with. Namely Ivan, who is still a bully, and who is always picking on the smaller children.

Berwald doesn't like Ivan, in fact he loathes him, but for once he is grateful for the distraction. Since Berwald is the only one who comes close to his size and in his silence and stoicism does not provide a very satisfactory target, Ivan has taken to picking on the smaller children, particularly the wide-eyed first graders. Berwald watches in seething anger as he takes away their belongings, trips them on the stairs, taunts them to the brink of tears in the hallways. The teacher's seem helpless. They know that Ivan is a bully, but it is hard to catch him in the act.

Besides, he has parents who are either utterly oblivious to their son's character, or in denial about it, but in any case very willing to file complains about anyone who dares to chastise poor little Wanja.

He's not poor, though, Berwald thinks, or little. He's mean as a snake and a spoiled brat.

But apart from Ivan, life is still good. He plays soccer with Mathias and a few other boys - you don't need to talk much for that - and Matilda bakes them pies and cakes. Father works a lot an only seems to come home for dinner and sleep, but he seems happy with that arrangement, and if he is, so is Berwald.

In third grade, Berwald is taught by a man who shares his passion for numbers and thinks that interesting his pupils in math and the sciences at an early age is a lot more important than making them read. Literature is overrated, he says, and anyways, you need to understand nature, before you can write poetry about it, or even begin to comprehend it. Berwald likes him. He gets top marks for his science projects, and Matilda brings him books on plants and animals, and astronomy and geography. She calls him her little scientist, and Berwald snuggles up to her and listens to her explain why volcanoes spit fire and why there are earthquakes, and tsunami waves, and thunderstorms.

Ivan has formed a little gang of bullies, the terror of the playground. Berwald and Mathias take pains to avoid them were they can.

Fourth grade is hell on Earth. The new teacher has studied literature before deciding to change her profession to something a little more productive, and she has even written a couple of books themselves. (Berwald will read them in seventh grade. They are quite boring.) "Poetry is the soul of the universe", she says, and she assigns them each a poem, telling them to learn it by heart, so they can recite it in class the next day.

Recite a poem. In front of the whole class.

Berwald instantly feels nauseous.

Mathias pats his shoulder. "Come on," he says, "it's only a stupid poem. Everybody thinks it's boring. Don't worry about it."

But Berwald does, and rightly so.

The next day is a catastrophe. He stands in front of the class, mumbling and stumbling over the words, and blushing, and it's all god-awful. Why doesn't she make him stop? Why doesn't she realize that he can't do this, that he is butchering her beloved poetry? He bravely struggles through the first verse, but just as he is about to start the second, he notices the sounds.

Giggling. The girls are giggling.

He looks up. Anna hides her mouth behind her hand, and Ida is whispering to her twin Malin.

And Ivan is sneering at him.

Oh God, they are all laughing.

"Go on," the teacher says sternly, a frown on her face.

But Berwald can't go on. The words won't come across his lips, they are frozen inside him, and all he hears is that terrible whispering, and the laughter.

That night, he hides beneath his pillow and cries until he falls asleep, and nobody is there to comfort him, because nobody understands. They all think it's funny.

The next day is even worse. Berwald is standing in a corner of the yard, trying very hard to ignore Ivan, who is teasing him, and mocking him, and imitating him. The other boys, those that are secretly afraid of him, and those who admire him, because he is big, and burly and ruthless, are standing around him, laughing. They are pointing at Berwald, imitating his slow, stumbling speech, the broken words, missing vowels.

It's only the first of a long row of similar days of purgatory.

Berwald tries to ignore them, tries to fight back with words, but they slip away, and then Mathias is there, shouting insults at Ivan at the top of his voice, standing up for him, but it won't help. Berwald tells a teacher, tells his father, but Father is too preoccupied with his work to care about his son's petty problems, and all the teacher does is to tell Ivan to stop, which of course, he doesn't.

And then one day, Berwald can take no more, and when Ivan continues to taunt him, he throws himself at the bully, fists first, with a shriek of helpless rage. They hit the ground, brawling and boxing, and kicking. Berwald breaks Ivan's nose and loses two teeth in return, and it takes three teachers to break them up.

They are sent to the principal's office, their parents are called in (Father looks annoyed, and Matilda looks frightened, and Ivan's mother isn't there and his father merely looks bored). Matilda drives Berwald to the doctor, who fixes his teeth (not to worry, those were two of the five remaining milk teeth, and they were due to fall out anyways), then she drives him home, and later, after Father has sat next to him on the bed, telling him in a calm, stern voice how disappointed he is, she sneaks upstairs and gives him ice cream for his swollen lip.

Berwald turns his face away, tears welling up in his eyes. He can't take her kindness now, he is so ashamed.

That night, when the moon shines bright through a gap between the curtains, and his swollen lip throbs, and the taunts still ring loudly in his ears, Berwald reaches a decision.

It has to stop here, and there is only one way out:

He won't ever speak again.

"Selective mutism," the therapist says. "Not too uncommon, really. Has he been under a lot of stress lately?" (Matilda nods loyally.)

The therapist nods, too. "I wouldn't worry too much. At his age, it's likely just a phase that he'll outgrow soon enough, especially since he appears to be perfectly healthy otherwise. Just give him some time."

They do. They give him two weeks. (Berwald doesn't speak)

They give him three months. (Still, not a word uttered.)

They give him half a year. (No talking)

"That's it!" Father says, exasperated. "It's that school. It's not a healthy learning environment for him. That terrible Russian kid, always upsetting him and not letting him concentrate on his classes. I'll have him transferred to another school."

Berwald remains silent. He likes the new school well enough (there's no Ivan, at least), but still refuses to speak. By now he has come to the conviction that life is so much easier when people don't know about his problem. As long as they think that he is unable to speak, that he is mute, they accept him the way he is. Most soon lose interest, and that, in his opinion, is a lot better than hearing them laugh at him, or whisper behind his back.

Matilda explains to the teachers that her stepson is special. She seems a little embarrassed. Most of the teachers look puzzled at first, but quickly adjust. They can see that he's listening to them, and paying attention and that he always does his homework and never interrupts class, so they shrug it off.

"Strange kid," they say, "but he seems nice enough, and he's quite smart."

He makes it through fifth and sixth and seventh grade without much trouble. He doesn't have any friends at school, but he still spends time with Mathias, who doesn't care if he talks, as long as they can play soccer, and prank the prissy neighbor next door. By now, Berwald is taller than most of his teachers, and growing.

Matilda takes him to a specialist, who says that there's nothing wrong with him and that he simply is an exceptionally tall fourteen-year old, a freak of nature, but nothing to worry about.

Tall and silent. Most of the other children fear him. Except the very small ones. A new family moves into the house next to the red one where Mathias lives, a family with two sons, and one of them is a fair haired little boy, four, maybe five years old. Bjarni, they call him, and the name fits him, Berwald decides, because somehow it sounds cute, and he certainly is.

But then, Berwald isn't exactly objective when it comes to the little guy, since Bjarni has apparently decided that every small, blond boy needs a big, silent protector and is following Berwald around whenever he can. They make an odd couple, and Mathias jokes about it with Lukas, who is Bjarni's older brother. But that is okay, because those are friendly jokes, not malicious ones.

Lukas and Mathias talk a lot. About soccer, school, friends, movies. Sometimes about girls, but more in the 'they are so silly, we will never understand them'-sort of way. Berwald mostly listens.

"Have you heard?" Mathias says, dropping down on the grass next to him. "Ivan's been kicked out of school after he stuck another boy's head into a toilet and almost drowned him. Talk is, he's attending a private school now. I guess his parents have the money."

Berwald slowly shakes his head. No, he had not heard about that. But it does not surprise him at all.