Chapter 2.

Both made their way up the inn until they reached their room. Upon entering, Tino made his way to his bed as Berwald locked the door before following him. All the while, Tino had himself nervous with the look on the other's face, as the previous sternness in his eyes and lips were now even worse.

"Berwald?" Tino uttered when they were both already seated, on the bed, beside each other. However, said man had no response. "Do I upset you?"

This time, the taller man slowly shook his head— but somehow something about it clearly affirmed it was a lie. Before Tino could say anything about it though, he turned and spoke, "How's y'r wound?"

"It's... sore," answered Tino despite his reluctance about it. Obviously, Berwald was just trying to dodge his previous question, but as for Tino's side, he was not really certain if he wanted to move on just like that or not. He felt uneasy, and one side of him begged to apologize. Another side, meanwhile, simply wanted to go along with whatever Berwald wanted at the moment— as another form of asking for forgiveness.

"Tino."

"What?"

"Let me check y'r wound, please."

Even before Tino could even say yes or no, Berwald already began to unbutton his shirt. One by one he undid them, his fingers every single time failing to avoid touching Tino's fair skin on the collar bones, and grazing the thin bandages that covered the rest of his chest. Each touch sent burning sensations, which for Tino was a mystery why. It felt strangely inviting, and because of that, it became a frustration when he already stopped feeling the other's hands against his torso. His shirt was quickly removed, and the bandages were also immediately untangled from his body. It was as if Berwald was panicking, and was desperate to reassure himself that the wound had not opened. Before the said man actually sighed in relief and relaxed at seeing Tino's secured wound, the latter actually had those impressions as his guess.

"Berwald, I'm really sorry for troubling you," finally came Tino's apology. It was easier to say than he had imagined. "Really, you don't have to worry yourself over me... You weren't at fault, after all. By patching me up last night, you have already saved my life, and now I owe you. I could have died, but you saved me. You don't have a reason to care for me, and you don't have to, but for some reason you do... And that sort of..." Tino had his lower lip bitten during that long pause of his. It was his first time to actually admit that... "...it sort of makes me feel guilty."

The shorter man gathered his courage to look up at Berwald. Doing so, he saw what could have already been the most visible expression that the said man has ever made since last night. Berwald's icy orbs were wide, his brows were the tiniest bit wrinkled towards the center, and his lips were parted a little and were releasing slow arrhythmic breaths. "What?" the man muttered ever so softly and deeply. "Guilty?"

"Yeah..." Tino admitted for the second time. "I don't deserve such kindness."

"Why not?" Berwald asked. "Y'were just attacked by criminals... S'it bad f'r me t'help?"

Tino flinched in shock. "No, of course not," he said. After all, when has helping become bad? "It's not what I feel bad about, Berwald. It's just that... this isn't the first time I received this sort of kindness and... even then, I always ended up realizing I don't deserve these kinds of things."

Berwald's eyes lowered in a resigned manner— at least that was how Tino interpreted it, and he knew he had to do something. He was just not quick enough to actually get anything done before Berwald stood up, marking the end of the discussion. The taller man went to the table beside the door, where their supplies were placed, and unpacked the new supplies in search for, what later on Tino figured, the antiseptic, cottons, and new bandages. Berwald suddenly spoke, "It isn't really advised t'let y'bathe, so would y'let me give you a sponge bath 'nstead?"

"I'm not a little child, Berwald, nor am I bedridden."

In the end, Tino did it to himself but still with Berwald's help, and only on his torso. And despite already knowing that Berwald's hands— no matter how big and strong-looking— were gentle and light, it still came to Tino as a shock. Afterwards, Berwald also insisted and went on with cleaning the wound itself with antiseptics and patching it up again. All the while, because of the gentleness Berwald's hands possessed, no danger and risk for the wound to bleed or open was present.

"Thanks, Berwald," Tino muttered as he dressed up and Berwald rolled down his own sleeves. "I just hope this wound could heal faster. It's such a nuisance, to be honest."

"'f course... it's n'rmal f'r you t'be th'nking that... But s'it better'f you didn't get it in the f'rst place?" Berwald asked as he moved to open a window.

"Of course," answered Tino.

"But... f'you didn't have it, we wouldn't have met."

Tino froze for a second as the sentence sank in. For a big scary guy like Berwald, it was cute to hear such things, and that made Tino smile. "That's not what I meant," he said. "And besides, don't you believe in destiny? If we were meant to meet, we will meet sooner or later no matter what the cause is."

Berwald stared into his eyes. "I don't want to b'lieve," he said before looking out the window again. "It's a cruel th'ng."

"Cruel, you say?" Tino asked with honest confusion. By now, he already knew that people feared Berwald, but aside from that, would there be enough reason for him to describe destiny as such? "It isn't always cruel, Berwald. Sweet things happen in life as well."

Berwald only turned to him briefly and told him to rest just before hurrying out of the room.

...

Berwald took a moment to stop just outside the door and take a really deep breath. He closed his eyes, and slowly released that breath through a shaky sigh. Those things Tino had just said, about destiny bringing sweet things, it was unbelievable especially when it came from a person who just got himself injured so mercilessly. Berwald found himself chuckling humorlessly at the thought of being very affected, because for a few years now, it was the first time for him to be taken aback like this again. He despised such positive outlooks of life, he despised those people who think life and destiny are beautiful the way they are. Those kinds of people have not seen reality and clearly have not experienced it. But Tino, Tino who has been robbed from and hurt, Tino who smiles often but sometimes lets down his guard and shows agony through his eyes, Tino could still say such happy thoughts despite all. The question is: How?

Berwald just stood there against the door, not leaving even after a few minutes. Once he gathered his composure, he went back inside again, thinking Tino was probably resting his abused body. Yet again, Berwald was surprised to find out otherwise.

"Where'd you go?" Tino asked the very moment Berwald entered. He was seated on his bed, beside the open window. Outside, the world was turning gray as the heavy clouds blocked the sun. The wind was blowing rather harshly, but not too harshly, entering the two men's room and making it colder than it already was.

Berwald took his time thinking if he should answer. In the end, his thoughts were drowned in silence, and he just decided not to. It wasn't as if he left.

"Those three..." he started, changing the topic. He was quite frustrated he didn't clearly see their faces. "Y'said they're the ones last night..."

Tino nodded, although his eyes were still clearly searching for an answer from his previous question.

"Then we've t'be careful."

Berwald paced towards his own bed behind Tino, immediately resigning to the comfort of its softness. He removed his glasses from his eyes, putting them on the bedside table between the two beds, and covered his eyes with an arm. "We've fruits..." he mumbled sleepily. "Just eat'f y'r hungry... or go downstairs, there's..." his voice slowly faded just as exhaustion took over. "...a small... café..."

But Tino shook his head, despite knowing Berwald was already asleep. He stood up, checked if the door was locked, closed the window and the curtains. Then lied down his own bed as well, finally doing what Berwald has been asking him to do since they got here: rest.

The sound of distant rustling woke up Berwald that night. Despite feeling bad about falling asleep, he felt refreshed and relieved. His exhaustion had gone away, and he was finally nothing but calm.

That is, until he sat up and looked around, and noticed Tino gone.

Berwald sprang up to his feet and hurried to the door after grabbing his glasses. He did not even care if he had just woken up and looked disoriented. He just had to find Tino.

Then as if a flash of light triggered his mind, he remembered telling Tino to go downstairs if he wanted to eat. Berwald instantly calmed down and went back in the room, fixed himself, before returning to the dark hallway, down to the exit of the inn, and to the adjacent door which was the small café, already calm.

From outside, the warm orange lightings can already be seen. Opening the door, Berwald slowly went inside and scanned the whole place. He did not like what greeted him.

Though the place did not drown in silence, everybody's voice tuned down. One by one, each pair of eyes turned and followed him, as if everyone in the room was a wary deer ready to flee from a possible predator anytime. They were all that anxious towards Berwald, men and women, and Berwald could feel all of it on his body.

He was already used to it, but he still hated it.

Berwald went to the counter to ask the bartender there for Tino. As he approached, the people left. It was only the bartender that stayed in place. He did not look like a welcoming person, but he surely was the only person that did not look afraid.

"We've met before, haven't we?" the bartender asked with a small humorless grin.

Berwald had to admit, the silver hair was indeed familiar, and so were those crimson eyes. But he couldn't remember.

"`ve you seen my friend?" he asked, shrugging off the familiar feeling. He then described Tino with his few words, and the bartender only looked at him with focus even as he wiped dry a few cups.

"Oh. That guy," the bartender muttered, putting the cup in a cupboard behind him and moving on with another. "He went here a while ago and ate. But he's long gone."

"Where'd he go?"

"Don't know," the bartender shrugged. It absolutely made him sarcastic. "Outside, I guess?"

Berwald nodded in thanks before silently, he turned to the door and walked away. By then, the crowd was starting to ease up, as well. But Berwald was stopped in his tracks, when the bartender spoke again. "Be careful, Berwald. And don't forget to visit again."

Berwald was probably at a loss of words that moment, so he decided to just walk on.

Berwald walked slowly outside, feeling the cold breeze of wind against his pale cheeks, and seeing the cloudy starless sky of the night with his roaming eyes.

Aside from the sound of his footsteps against stones and pebbles, the village was mostly silent for a long while. Then the calm breeze started blowing a tad harder, whistling louder against Berwald's ears. Then there came the rustling again, that same rustling that had woken Berwald up. It wasn't the rustling of bushes, or the sound of the leaves dancing with the wind. It was a disturbing rustling of movements of someone trying not to be caught. Berwald knew, because he has been in all kinds of moments. Mournings, celebrations, fightings, murders... he's experienced a lot at first hand.

He knew what kind of rustling one is, when he hears one.

Berwald slowed his pace to a careful one, trying to follow with his ears where the rustling was coming from. He found it more difficult than expected, since the silent village created an echoing effect around him. But eventually the sound became nearer and nearer, and the echoing gradually disappeared. Berwald was surprised to see, that at the back of a cold, seemingly empty house, there crouched Tino, petting a small puppy that seemed more than pleased.

"Tino?" Berwald softly called, taking note that Tino's smile did not reach his eyes. For some reason, the bartender's words forced itself to be heard again. Be careful, Berwald. But Berwald did not even see a reason to be.

Tino turned to Berwald upon hearing his name. Finding the latter standing where he stood, by the cottage-like house's wall, he stood up himself and smiled an apologetic smile. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not too long," Berwald answered. He also took note that the puppy panickingly ran away at its realization of his presence. "What're y'doing `ere?"

"I slept the whole day, too, Berwald," Tino cheerily answered, his apologetic smile not going anywhere. "I felt the need to walk around. The wind's cool so I thought it'd be nice to be outside."

Berwald slowly blinked, once, twice, thrice, seemingly unfazed. "I don't mind... walking with you. Next time, tell me f'you want to go s'mewhere," he said.

"I'm sorry, Berwald," Tino told him. "Did I make you worry?"

"No. D'you want to walk around more?"

Tino shook his head, pacing towards the other. "Let's just go back."

Tino and Berwald passed the café when they went back. The atmosphere had become quite warm and lovely, and Berwald knew he'd just destroy it if he entered.

So the two continued to walk, but was stopped when Berwald noticed a still figure in the dark. He turned his eyes to the dark alley at the other side of the road. There was a shadow, and a lighted cigarette on his mouth. The shadow moved forward, revealing itself only to be the bartender.

"Back so soon, Berwald?" he asked.

The said man didn't answer; he just stared and let the other speak.

"You probably don't remember me, do you?"

"It's been a long time," finally answered Berwald. "I recognize you. But I don't know fr'm where."

"How convenient," the bartender said bitterly, very bitterly that Berwald almost tasted it. "I should probably introduce again, then. The name's Gilbert. We used to be playmates when we were kids."

As always, Berwald's reaction was almost unnoticed. But Tino noticed it. Berwald's eyes flashed and widened the tiniest bit, in surprise, just like this morning.

As for Berwald, there was a reason why he was surprised. At hearing the bartender's name, memories from childhood suddenly flashed themselves before him, mocking him and reminding him of the things he's done, and the things he couldn't do. Gilbert was not really his friend. They were more like little children then who were too bored, did not want to play alone, and so settled with other children they did not know, both of them included in that pack of strangers. They were playmates, and eventually became rivals in many things. They hung out, but they were not friends. They just really knew one another too well.

Berwald's eyes lowered. And the looks in them were obviously that of pain... "I remember now," he softly whispered, but the whistling wind seemed to have blown his words right at the other two men's ears. "Shouldn't you be running away now, then?"

"Oi, oi..." Gilbert laughed softly as he walked towards Tino and Berwald. "We may not be friends, but I know you too well to run away," he said.

"What'd you mean?" Berwald asked, raising his sight a bit to look at the crimson eyes shining like crystals in the dark. "You almost killed me."

"Yeah," Gilbert grinned. "And then you disappeared, and then everybody else disappeared, and then I found out you didn't kill him."

"But I couldn't save him for you."

"I didn't get to save him, either."

Tino did not expect to hear someone speak of killing with Berwald. He did not expect that someone would suspect Berwald like that. But he was relieved the man named Gilbert admitted he was wrong. If not, then probably there really is a reason why everybody fears Berwald.

"Where do you plan to go?" Gilbert asked Berwald; it seemed that Tino probably lost himself for quite a while.

"Don't know. Still s'rchin'," Berwald answered, turning to Tino. "Tino,"

"Yes?"

"Let's head back. To the room."

"Oi, wait, Berwald." Gilbert blocked Berwald's way, determined to keep on talking. "Is he really... a 'friend'?" He then pointed at Tino with his eyes.

"Yes," Berwald answered, not turning his head. "So what?"

"What's your name?" Gilbert now asked Tino.

And Tino who did not understand what was happening, answered dutifully, taking note of the underlying threat in Gilbert's voice. "Tino," he said.

"'Tino' then..." For some reason, Gilbert suddenly spoke using a language Berwald did not understand...

But Tino's eyes widened.

-End of Chapter 2-