Well, I promised it to Maria... a looooong time ago u_u Well, I had no time to translate it, considering my English is still quite bad... TAT But, hey, it's better late than never~
So, here we go!
Axis Powers Hetalia doesn't belong to me, it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya-san.
The sky was grey and overcast and no star could be seen. Thick snowflakes fluttered in the air until they finally met ground gracefully, accumulating on it without melting. Everything was silent...
Or almost.
The chilly and sever wind spread a hoarse, anguished voice who belonged to a blond tall man with broad shoulders.
-T'no... T'no...
Berwald shook gently the body of the nation known as Finland, as if he was afraid of hurting it if it were stronger, without receiving any reply.
Tino remained exactly as it was, relaxed, smiling, clinging to the tall one's neck, with such a gentle grip...
-T'no... C'n ya he'r m'? T'no?
'Berwald?', called, hesitantly, the Finn to the Swede, receiving a grunt in response.
'I've been thinking about...', he continued, his sweet and gentle voice being occasionally broken by violent fits of coughing. 'Today's weather is really marvelous, and it's been a long time since we last went for a walk. Can we go out for a while? Please?'
'C'ld, ya c'ld get w'rse...', said the tall one, adjusting his glasses with his finger. Even when no one could tell it, due to Berwald's shyness and stoicism, he was really worried about Tino.
The disease had ravaged him. The once ago lively, energetic and smiling Tino had been confined to bed for half a year, when he began coughing blood with a really alarming frequency. "Tuberculosis", the doctor had said in a somber tone when they went to visit him. And they had understood.
From then on, Tino couldn't step out of his house with no one to help him anymore; lost his appetite, and, therefore, started to lose weight in a rush; his skin, which had already lost its beautiful rosy color, stretched over his bones, giving him a fragile and emaciated image that didn't match with his true personality.
As a result of that, he had been prohibited from exercising his duties as Santa Claus, to attend a conference, to deal with his country's issues... until his recovery. Yet he never stopped smiling. Even when the coughing left him without any strength, or when he could barely sleep at night, or when sometimes he was so tired that he couldn't even breathe, he had been always there, with a kind word or a loving smile to those around him, in a patient and passive attitude and always without complaining.
'Nothing's going to happen to me, Berwald', he retorted, calmly, while incorporating in bed. 'I'm not feeling any pain today, and, if you helped me, I wouldn't be supposed to fall. Please? I can't stand being in this room, without anything else to do. Please let me go with you, Berwald, please, please...'
'Th'y s'y 't's g'nna sn'w...', he objected.
'Well, then we are going to go for a short walk so we can come back before it starts snowing', he protested, pouting. He then grabbed his sleeve, not wanting him to go away from him, at looked him in his eyes, imploring. 'Please...'
Berwald sighed. He couldn't say "no" to the Finnish, and he was even more unable to do that when he asked so fervently for it. But he was so worried about him... Even when the doctor hadn't wanted to tell him, he wasn't stupid. He knew his "wife" was even worse than he seemed to be, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to him; that was why he felt somehow relieved with Tino in bed, warm and without making unnecessary movements.
But Tino was right. The weather outside was quite good (even when it was pretty cold, too), and, if he wore warm clothes, nothing bad would happen, in theory... He shrugged.
''K...', he said, surrendering to the other male.
After receiving no reply from the smallest one, the Swede stared at him, horrified.
His eyes were closed, his skin was pale and cold, and his chest was not moving.
"No, T'no... pl'se d'n't do th's tah m'... pl'se, d'n't..."
He ran his gloved hands above his forehead, his cheeks, his still pinkish lips and his heart.
Nothing.
There was no warmth in that little body punished by TB. His heart was not beating. His eyes weren't able to open by themselves. His mouth was not smiling.
No.
That had to be a horrible nightmare. It couldn't be true. Tino shouldn't... Tino couldn't be dead. Please, let this be a nightmare, implored the Swede, desperate, to no one in particular. Please, let Tino to open his eyes and smile to me. But he wasn't going to do that, and he knew it.
He didn't want to accept it, he couldn't accept it.
"No... T'no! T'no!"
Soon after, they were out of the house, Berwald with a heavy coat over his usual clothes and Tino with three layers of clothes, a skiing coat and blue woolen scarf and gloves (those were the Swede's idea) that didn't let him moving that much. Despite his sickness, the Finnish emitted joy and optimism. Berwald embraced him, both to protect him from cold and not to let him fall, and, that way, they began to walk together.
They had no umbrella; the sky was still clear and blue and the ex-viking didn't consider it was necessary. If it snowed, he would let Tino to protect himself with his own coat.
They walked, silently. Without loosening his grip on the tallest one's waist, Tino breathed deeply while singing a song; Berwald, only worried about his "wife"'s health, looked at him regularly, paying special attention to his face, so pale and gaunt...
'T'no, 're ya 'K?'
'Yes, Berwald, I'm fine...'
His cold face had still a little warmth on his cheeks and a relaxed and peaceful facial expression. He had felt no pain, he supposed, but, in that moment, he couldn't care less about that. Truth had hit him deeply and he couldn't avoid it anymore. Tino was dead.
From his dried eyes went off, for the first time in centuries, a tear. At first, it was only one. A shy and tiny water drop that traced haltingly its way through that red, cool face. But soon after, that drop was followed by another, and that one, by even more. Finally, a desperate stream of tears of sorrow and grief soaked his cheeks, his glasses, his hands and Tino's face, as Berwald had leaned on him until he touched with his forehead the other's frozen forehead.
They were already too far from home, and, as Berwald had said, it was snowing. But that was a weak snow that didn't put in danger Tino's delicate health. He hadn't talked in any moment; keeping himself close to the Swede, he only walked and looked everywhere, smiling a little when the wind disheveled his hair, dotted with half melted snowflakes.
Berwald's hand, which hadn't abandoned the smallest one's waist in any moment, stuck even more to that place. He had noticed in horror that Tino's stepping was becoming slower and more hesitant, so he planned on returning home and make him go to bed immediately; but, as if he knew what was the other thinking, Tino rose his head and gave him a radiant smile, as if telling him that anything was happening, that everything was going to be alright.
He threw out a heartbreaking howl, similar to that of a hurt animal, and went down slowly until his knees touched the snowy ground. He hugged strongly Tino's cold body and kissed his lips desperately, in a desperate and childish attempt to give warmth and life to what, just minutes earlier, had housed Tino's soul.
Tino's leg failed, making him fall, but the Swede was faster: he embraced completely the other's waist with one arm, preventing him to fall to the ground, and, with his free hand, grabbed his shoulder, strongly.
Tino smiled but, not as usual, he couldn't soothe Berwald. His lips were tense, as if it was difficult for him to smile; his beautiful, violet eyes were half closed, dull and with dark circles under them; and his face, already pale due to the illness, was completely white. That was when he noticed for the first time how sick he was.
'T'no, 're ya 'K?', he repeated.
'Better than ever', he said, still smiling, but Berwald didn't believe him. It was obvious he was not OK. He was able to stand on his feet just because the Swede was holding him; if it wasn't for him, he would have fallen to the ground.
''T's 'ver, w're c'ming back h'me r'ght now', he declared, tense and worried, but Tino dissuaded him with a gesture.
'No, wait a minute', he pleaded.
As he breathed, his breath formed a little cloud over Tino's face. No more tears were falling from his eyes, but, nevertheless, Berwald still cried, with a dried, desperate and heartbreaking crying.
Berwald stared at him.
'Wh't's wr'ng?'
Tino took two or three painful breaths, trying to pretend dignity no matter what, and stood on his tiptoes so he could whisper these words into his ear.
'I'm cold'
Hearing this, the Swede wrapped the other in his arms, his heart full of fear and anxiety. The Finnish let the other to embrace him, winding his arms around the ex-viking's neck at the same time the other did the same with his thin waist. Berwald felt a soft, loving kiss on his cheek, next to his ear. And, in that moment, Tino clung with an unexpected strength to his neck.
'Thank you for loving me...', he murmured in a whisper before falling silent.
Berwald, grateful for Tino's feelings towards him, embraced him back, strongly, and gave him a loving kiss on his forehead; but he quickly stepped aside when he noticed that the Finnish wasn't reacting.
Something was wrong.
Berwald didn't know how long he had been on the floor, hugging Tino's corpse and wailing over him, with a broken heart. For him, time had stopped exactly in the moment Tino thanked him, with his last words.
He parted from him a little, wanting to see him better, and noticed that, not like before, a slight layer of snow were covering them.
And it was in that moment when he had that idea, as radical as desperate.
~~I loved you, but I wasn't able to tell you,
And now you've left me in a world where you are no longer living in
No matter how much I raise my voice,
Nor you neither your voice will return to me...~~
Berwald let out a last, sharp, prolonged and full of endless pain and solitude cry.
He took out, slowly, his coat and gloves, and put them on the smallest one's body, protectively, and caressed lovingly his face. He gave him a last kiss on his cold and hardened lips and, hugging him tightly, as if never wanting to let him go, lay with him in the snow.
~~Fluttering, falling snow, please hear my voice and take me far away
To a place where I can, at least, meet him again
Take away my miserable life and cover us all with a same color...
Please, in white...~~
.
.
"Berwald! Tino! Can you hear us?"
Those who were shouting were Mathias, Lukas and Emil, the rest of the Nordics. They were worried: Peter had phoned them, hysterical, because Berwald and Tino had gone for a walk, it had been a long time since then, there had been a heavy snowfall and they hadn't returned home yet. When they heard that, they went quickly to the "happy family"'s house and, with encouraging promises of finding them, forced Peter to stay at home, to answer the phone if they called, and had gone out to look for them.
"Tino! Tino! Where are you?"
"Asshole, goddamned Swede, where are you?"
"Mathias!", shouted the Norwegian, scolding him.
"What's the matter? I'm sure he would answer me if I say that! Ahahahahahaha~!"
"You're so annoying, Mathias..."
Time passed. The Nordics called them until their voices became hoarse, but no reply could be heard. Worried, they went into the forest where the "couple" used to go for walks until they stepped into a meadow.
"We don't have another choice!", shouted the Dane, panting. "Lukas, you'll go over there!". He pointed to his right. "And Emil, you'll go over there". He pointed to his left. "I'll turn around and look for them again! We probably hadn't sought enough!"
Quickly, they ran to their signaled places, but they didn't go that far...
"Ouch!", complained Emil when he tripped over something and fell to the ground.
"Are you OK...?", asked Lukas, softly, worried about his brother.
"Yeah, don't worry...", answered the Icelandic, nonchalant, and sought with his sight what made him fall.
And his face became white.
"I... I think I found them...", he stuttered, horrified, pointing to the ground.
It was an arm.
Mathias, who had seen it, too, dug like mad until the dead bodies of Berwald and Tino could be seen, and got away, horrified and with nausea.
Tino, covered with a coat and a pair of gloves bigger than him, was pale and with a peaceful face, as if sleeping, but his breath couldn't be heard and he wasn't moving.
Berwald, next to him, hugged him tightly, as if trying to warm him. He wore no warm clothes. His lips and nails were blue; his face, red and frozen; and, on his eyes, he had frozen, half-sprouting tears.
Well, I'll hope you'll forgive my crappy English ^^'
Did you like it? Please, review me *points to the icon* It means a lot to me when people tell me their sincere opinion, that's the only way I can improve.
See you later!