The courtyard was thick with silence. Dew still clung to blades of grass and the air was still chilled; it caused some goose bumps to rise up on the Swedish male's bare fore-arms. He breathed in and ended up choking on the smoke from the rebel-kids that were probably out here smoking only minutes earlier. He hated smoke. It was fairly disgusting, and he wasn't sure what the bad-ass trio or bad-touch trio or whatever they were calling themselves these days insisted on taking a drag every morning. Really though, it wasn't his problem; let their lungs rot. There would be a few less dumb-fucks in the world to put up with.
Struggling to choke back a yawn, Berwald rubbed his eyes sleepily. Vice principal Gerhard* had been thinking about making the day start later- it was with good reason. The Swede struggled to think of one person at the school that actually enjoyed hauling their ass out of bed at five thirty. Though getting off at one was nice, it wasn't worth the agony of prying one's self from a warm bed to take a luke-warm shower and sit at a cold desk.
Eventually two students that may have been able to stand the brutal schedule came to mind. One was Mathias. Berwald doubted that the Dane slept much. He probably stayed up most of the night molesting his poor, sleeping boyfriend. The Swedish male wondered why in the world Nikolai stayed with that maniac. He was loud, brash, annoying, felt Nikolai up every two seconds in public and did way more in private (it wasn't hard for Berwald to see the limp in the Norwegian's steps). The only things that he could think of were one, Nikolai was a saint or something akin to one, or two, the boy was somehow attracted to the way Mathias was. Or maybe he was a masochist. Maybe Mathias was actually good at sex. Maybe it was a strange combination of all of the above, and Berwald was just thinking way too hard now.
Stopping before any more disturbing images came to mind, he thought of a certain Ivan Braginski next. That boy probably rarely ever slept. Ivan was a violent, maniacal psychopath (or maybe a sociopath, Berwald could never tell) that happened to be the star of the school hockey team. Ivan was an exchange student directly from Moscow, Russia. When he first arrived at the school Berwald knew right off the bat that there was something wrong with him, it was in his smile. Apparently though, other's first impressions of him were that he was a charming, strong, attractive young man. He may have even been called promising. So Berwald stayed silent, through every brutally hard check in those hockey games (those kids usually ended up with concussions) and even when he finally attacked another student. That kid ended up in the ER. And so, after those incidents, all of Ivan's so-called promise had left him, only leaving behind that same, twisted and strange smile.
Berwald did call it.
Back to the earlier topic of sleep, he highly doubted that Ivan slept much. He probably spent his night stalking- visiting, as he said- his dear friends, aka the three unluckiest students in the school. Berwald wouldn't put it past him to touch them in their sleep. Well, all of them except for that Lorinaitus boy. That boyfriend of his would probably scratch Ivan's eyes out with those perfectly manicured nails of his.
Continuing his walk away from the smoke now, Berwald thought about his bond with his classmates. He didn't have friends, and he couldn't say he was really even acquaintances with any of them. Hell, Mathias was probably the closest thing he had to a companion and he hated that boy with a passion. Still though, Berwald wasn't oblivious to his peers. He was just the observer, and that was all and that was that. But sometimes he wished he could do more than just observe Tino Vainamoinen.
Okay, that was a lie. He always wished he could do more than just observe the Finnish boy. He wanted to touch him, or kiss him, or even just talk to him- anything to get just a little bit closer. As much as he berated himself for how pathetic it all sounded, it didn't feel pathetic. It just hurt. He would jump at anything to relieve that hurt, that emptiness.
Anything was about to slap him in the face. He first realized he was no longer the only one in the courtyard when he heard a soft giggling from up ahead where the benches were. Startled, he turned quickly to see who had joined him- and he got the surprise of his life when he saw it was exactly who he had been wishing to see face to face since he got here.
Tino.
Tino was sitting right in front of where he stood.
It seemed to take the Finn a moment to realize that Berwald was there, and when he did he sat up a little, slowly and wobbly, looking up at the other boy. The collar of his shirt was falling off one shoulder and a thick, black, choker drew his attention to the perfectly shaped collar-bones below.
"Moi~." He almost sang, slowly and dragged out, swinging his legs back and forth. He held a bottle of vodka in one hand and used the other to steady himself, smiling at the other. Berwald realized that the silence was because the other was waiting for him to respond.
"Hej." Berwald responded. It was a struggle to get his mouth to open and produce the sound. His speech felt slow and labored, as though he hadn't spoken in a very long time. Come to think of it, he probably hadn't.
Tino just giggled. "Mm, I've seen you before. Berwald, right?"
"Ja." He responded, then quickly corrected himself and changed back to english "Y's. 'M B'rwald." Dammit English was harder than Swedish.
"Hn… It's nice to finally meet you." Tino almost cooed (probably from the alcohol), eyes glazed over. "I've seen you around for a long time…"
"Th't so?" Berwald inquired, trying to keep this conversation flowing. He wanted it to last as long as it could.
"Mmhm~ Yep I have. And you've seen me, too. Haven't you?"
"Ah, y's…"
"I know you have~ Don't try and lie to me, you're always looking at me…"
Shit. He wasn't as discrete as he had thought he was. Berwald mentally slapped himself, feeling a little nauseous. Tino, however, just giggled a little. "You're cute when you're nervous."
Berwald swallowed. How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that? Tino just smiled and took another long swig of vodka, scooting over on the bench a little and patting the now open spot for Berwald to come and sit. Who was he to refuse?
"Hn… so Berwald. Do you like me?"
Berwald's heart stopped.
Fuck. FUCK. What was he supposed to do with this? No, Tino, actually I am obsessed with you so you should just let me take you and ravage you; don't worry I promise I'll be good to you it's not like I'm a sadist or anything, just a horrible pervert. Yeah. That would go over well.
"You do don't you?"
Berwald just nodded weakly. There wasn't much else he could think to do. Another smile from his companion. "Well, that's good. Because then… Maybe you could do me a favor."
Fuck off, maybe? Berwald wouldn't be shocked if that was the favor.
"I don't like being alone, Berwald. So maybe you could keep me company." Tino said, words sounding syrupy.
The Swede's first thought was to wonder if he was hearing this right. His second was that this sounded like a really bad porno. His third was that Tino was drunk off of his ass, and Berwald should be the better man here and do something to help him. That meant not taking advantage of this, even if he kind of wanted to.
"I'd make it worth your while… Just, you know, be with me…"
"T'no… Ya' should r'lly g't s'me rest." He suggested gently. Tino grabbed his arm quickly now.
"Don't-" He hiccupped and swayed a little. How much had he drank? "Don't brush me off like this… I know you're always alone- and so am I… We don't have to do this. We- we could fix this…" He swayed more now, and he would have fallen if Berwald hadn't caught him.
"Come on…" He murmured more weakly now, limp in the Swede's grip.
"'M takin' ya' t' th' n'rse's 'ffice." Berwald explained almost gently, scooping the smaller male into his arms and cradling him. He could feel him breathe, shake. It really reminded him how fragile people could be. How fragile they were. How fragile he was.
"But Berwald. Listen to me. Come on, you need someone and so do I. We can work something out…" Maybe it was the vodka speaking for the flushed and disheveled Finn, but Berwald just wasn't a good enough person to say no.
"…'Kay." He finally complied, staring down at the other, resolve broken.
Tino smiled a little before he slumped a little more, about halfway to the nurse's suite, and it occurred to Berwald that he had fainted.
Really, how much alcohol could Tino have drank, and what had Berwald just gotten himself into?
*My name for Germania
Author's note: Hei~! Quick Update. Thank you for the reviews and adds, I really appreciate it / I'm easily pleased. Anyway, a word on this chapter:
Yes, Tino is drunk. Very, very, drunk. He won't be acting like a cheap whore forever, I promise. I hear that Finns drink a lot of vodka, but they are usually violent drunk. I took some creative liberties, here. Sorry 'bout that one, it was needed though.