"You really don't talk much, do you?" Tino giggled between words, playing with his fork absentmindedly and letting the next stream of words roll off his tongue, filling the silent air with life and noise; something Berwald was far from accustomed to.
He could barely focus on what the words were, they all blended together in some sort of song, a melody that was Tino.
The Swede had to steady himself with the edge of the table to keep from falling, because his mind was busy, just dancing with thoughts and commands like bees swarming his mind. The world was spinning, and so was his heart. And perhaps he'd never felt anything like this before. Perhaps he'd never known the feeling of your chest swelling with unexplainable love before; especially not for someone so new to him as Tino was. But it was here and it was wonderful.
Berwald's mind was clouded. It was taken over with dizzying chants.
"Just smile for him. Don't scare him away. You can't afford to lose him. Tell him he looks beautiful. Reach out to him."
And at first they made some resemblance to sense and logic, but soon it was simply a chant.
"Tino. Tino. Tino."
And it was as if the world had been deconstructed around him and all that mattered in this moment was him and nothing would ever matter again as long as he was there. It was magical, and intoxicating. His name became him. It worked its way through his veins, into his thoughts, as if his heartbeat was whispering 'Tino' with every moment that went by.
As if… As if perhaps he had fallen in love with a stranger. Not a stranger, really. But a strange man with a smile that seemed to light Berwald's dull life, and a voice to make his deaf ears hear, and a touch that could heal all wounds, and a name… A name that became his world.