perfect endless skies
By some cruel, heartless twist of fate, the once-perfect marriage between Berwald and Tino begins to fall apart - and it is not explosive or traumatising. It's just slow and sad, and they watch from a distance as their once-perfect relationship crumbles.
Tino remembers the time when he loved Berwald, when his voice was that of an angel, his gaze a bright endless sky, his touch an immortal kind of bliss. The memories are beautiful.
The memories are beautiful and pure and faultless, and some part of Tino wishes for those times to be back. Some clingy part of him wishes for when he would lie in Berwald's arms and be surrounded by his perfect safety, or when he'd listen to Berwald reading to Peter and his voice would be like silk against his ears, or when he'd catch Berwald's gaze lit by the starry expanse above them and see a deep ocean of something only he was allowed to discover.
The times when the only thing he needed to survive were Berwald's voice and gaze and scent and presence, when he could be whole.
It is as if he is empty now, but he cannot fill the gap. He does not want to make himself fill the gap.
He misses the times when he would break into laughter at Berwald's jokes, melt into Berwald's touch, fall asleep to his soft words. When he could sit around a warm, friendly fireplace with Berwald and Peter and Hanatamago and know that this is all he needs in life.
He misses it all, and when he thinks about all of those perfect, happy memories, he wonders where it all went so fast.
He didn't see it coming, the way Berwald's infinite gaze locked frostily shut on him, his touch withered into something cold and uncomfortable, his voice broke into the grating half-sounds of his accent.
Suddenly it was all he could do not to shudder at every word that came out of Berwald's mouth.
He thinks about turning over where he is lying in bed - behind him, he knows Berwald is awake. Every breath Berwald takes rattles Tino's spine with a cold, harsh disgust. He thinks about turning over, but in the end he does not have the willpower to make himself look at the man next to him.
He misses the time when the sight of Berwald was enough to calm his entire soul and enough to reduce him to a shaking, begging mess all at the same time. Now the sight of Berwald just makes Tino's skin crawl.
He lays in bed until the morning alarm rings, when he gets up and leaves the room before Berwald has even hit the snooze button. Downstairs, he makes breakfast and sets it on the table just as Berwald and Peter arrive.
"Good morning, Peter," he says.
"'Morning," Peter replies. Tino can barely understand him through his sleep-induced mumbling.
He sits down, turns his chair to face the TV, wonders if he'll feel the chill of his husband's icy stare on the back of his head.
The shudder doesn't come, though - sometimes it's easy to forget, Tino disgusts Berwald just as much as Berwald disgusts Tino.
It's sad, Tino thinks. He remembers the time when he was Berwald's entire world, when his adoration was tangible behind frozen barriers that didn't used to block him out. When Berwald could speak to him without both of their stomachs twisting in shameful, broken hatred.
Now, Tino realises, he hates Berwald Oxenstierna.
No - he loathes everything about Berwald Oxenstierna.
It isn't an angry loathing, though, it is slow and painful and bitter and regretful. They never yell, they never argue, they never fight, they just stand there with blank expressions, watching their beautiful shared lives wilt and decay.
He wonders what would happen to Peter if they got a divorce. He wonders whether he would be able to face Berwald long enough to get a divorce.
He wonders what his friends would say - do they still think they are the perfect, lovestruck, inseparable pair they used to be?
Maybe it's better to just let it crumble, without making a fuss. Just let him hate Berwald Oxenstierna to the point that he no longer cares whether he sees him or not.
Tino decided a long time ago that that's what's best for Peter, so that's what he's waiting for. The day he can loathe the sight of his husband enough to stand it.
He wonders if it's a little hopeful of him to want that day.
A/N: 3AM oneshot. I have a habit of thinking about depressing SuFin AUs very early in the morning. Sorry.