Author's Notes: I saw one of those head-cannon images on Google and thought I'd agree with that head-cannon. Also, subtle Catch Perfect reference! If you don't want to read about massages then skip to the end Author's Notes and I shall tell you what plot-things you have missed out on.
"I've decided to stop being so passive. I'm going to tell Berwald how I feel. If he doesn't feel the same then… Well…"
"…You'll have to get over it." Matthias answered on the other end of the phone. Tino sighed and nodded.
"But I have this gut feeling that he does! Why would he stay with me otherwise?"
"Be careful, kid. The world is not as adorable as you think it is."
Tino felt something stab into his stomach. Matthias was right. What was Tino to do if Berwald turned around and said he did not feel the same? Worse still, what if Berwald freaked out and never grunted to him ever again?
"Thanks for the warning Den!"
"Don't, Fin. I wish the world was what you wanted."
The line went dead. Tino stared at the phone emptily. The world went in slow motion as he heard heavy footsteps towards the room. He could feel Berwald's presence loiter behind him. Exhaling a little too dramatically, he forced himself to smile and turned around to face him.
"Berwald, I have something to tell you."
Berwald shrugged, staring at him intently. Tino gulped and played with his fingers. He stared at them as if they had the answers, as if they knew what Tino should say.
"So Berwald…"
The Finn looked up to see the Swede only a few inches away from him. The other's eyes were so severe, his manner so strict, his face so… Intense. Tino felt the perspiration begin to gather, feel his heart slowly crawl up his throat and yet sink into his stomach at the same time. Was he the Doctor from Arthur's favourite show? Oh wait, now he was getting distracted.
"…Ja?"
"I-I…"
Tino began to lose patience with himself. He had killed men quicker than this… Destroyed nations with more energy than this… Won wars with less anxiety than this. Why was saying how he felt so hard? Where was that hope and optimism he had beamed out to everyone else? Maybe Tino knew the answer: his sunny exterior was nothing but a mask he could hide under. Maybe that was why he adored Berwald. Berwald's face was an accidental mask; not created out of years of deception and smiling like Tino had done. So Tino looked into those eyes that could never do any wrong, those eyes that never fit into a certain label of colour, and gave into the despair inside of himself.
"I like your new glasses."
Berwald stroked his glasses with his right index finger, staring down at Tino. For a moment Tino saw a flicker of emotion in those bewitching eyes. An emotion akin to disappointment but also, if this is completely possible, pleased. Tino felt his mouth dry up, his eyes on the verge of leaking. He smiled up at his beloved friend and walked away quickly.
.
.
Tino felt a numbing daze wash over him as he interacted with the rest of the world. This numbness was mostly due to confusion as those around him changed dramatically. Eduard grew cold and quiet, his only choice of topic to discuss being the cat festival. Lukas kept weeping whenever Tino rung up, never on for too long, mumbling something about Emil being ill. Banter battles between himself and Mathias abruptly ceased. In a world full of people and nations, Tino had never felt so isolated. The only refuge from this sinking feeling was his perfect Berwald.
Eduard did, despite his current mood, sent him a list of suggestions for Tino to try out. Tino then rated the list and allocated certain situations in which he could act out these suggestions. Tino waited until Berwald had gone out to then roll a dice over which suggestion on the list he would choose. Unfortunately for Tino, one of the less conventional situations cropped up, so he enacted his least favourite suggestion.
.
Tino felt his heart leap in his chest as his eyes met with the sight of an exhausted Berwald, collapsing on to the bed with gratitude. Internally Tino knew this was the ideal time to enact plan "Large Hint" but he was still cautious. This plan relied on so many external factors; only one had to play against him and Tino's strategy would fail, maybe even hinder his war for Berwald. A sudden heat of determination sprung up- he was doing this no matter what.
"You've been working so hard, would you like a massage?" Tino asked casually. Berwald looked up and raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"O-Oh! It's okay if y-you don't want-"
"What? I can't hear you when you mumble."
"Would you like a massage?" The Finn, out of desperation and anxiety, shouted far louder than he had aimed for and even accompanied the question with a pathetic gesture supposedly resembling a massage. Blankly Berwald nodded. Tino almost felt dizzy- he did not expect his plan to get this far. He ran to the bathroom, worried Berwald would change his mind, and sighed as he found himself picking up the tub of Vaseline- Berwald really needed to stop collecting Vaseline products.
Entering the room only to be met with the sight of a topless Berwald, Tino turned into a blushing and trembling mess. How longingly he wanted to change his current plan. It was obvious that this was an idiotic plan. It was not guaranteed that Berwald would assume Tino's romantic feelings towards him just by giving a massage. Tino began to wonder if Eduard had thrown this suggestion in for a joke.
"Massage." Berwald said with a tinge of excitement, lying down on the bed. Courage filled Tino up to the brim. Berwald wanted a massage. By Thor, Berwald was getting a massage.
Cautiously Tino positioned himself on the bed so he was hovering over the other man's back, his legs on either side Berwald's thighs. Immediately Tino wanted to flee with embarrassment but he stayed put. He noticed that Berwald had took his glasses off and was watching Tino from the corner of his eye as he turned his head. How unnerving.
"I've never done this before so I may not be very good. I'll try though!" Tino chuckled nervously, poking Berwald's back. Berwald grunted.
"Try your best, that's all that matters."
Encouraged, Tino rubbed Berwald's back softly, forgetting the Vaseline. Berwald's back seemed to go on forever; Tino felt embarrassed about how small and little his own back was in comparison. The Swede's skin was quite rough and his muscles were so tense. Tino remembered the Vaseline and dipped the whole of his hand into the tub.
"Your skin is rough. You should look after yourself better." Tino stated. A smile tugged softly at the corner of Berwald's lips as he grunted again.
At first Tino was quite timid with his hands, poking here and there with the moisturiser. Gradually he became braver, rubbing the substance in lightly along the Swede's spine. Berwald grunted and continued to watch Tino out of the corner of his left eye. Tino smirked once he remembered that he need not worry about Berwald watching him- Berwald was hopeless without his glasses on. Tino grew even more daring and kneaded Berwald's body with the Vaseline, starting from the bottom of his spine all the way to his broad shoulder blades, untangling knots and tenses expertly. Berwald grunted more frequently and his breathing faltered. His back leaned into Tino's hands. Tino grinned to himself, feeling more confident in his hands suddenly. He decided to massage from the Swedish man's shoulders back down the bottom of his spine to make sure that the Finn did not miss any knots. Once satisfied, Tino scooted upwards so he could reach the back of Berwald's arms. However Berwald turned over, pinning poor Tino onto the bed.
The world stopped in its motions as Tino's eyes widened. The dust particles paused their drifting in the silvery light, the dog downstairs halted her barking. It was Berwald's turn to hover over Tino, his chest only an inch away from Tino's shirt. Those ambiguous eyes flickered, making Tino squirm a little and fidget nervously. Those eyes held the same look they had the other day when Tino hid himself behind a pillow, except the look was now amplified. Berwald's hands were resting just above Tino's shoulder, acting like bars for a cage.
"So! Wasn't that fun? Was I good? I thought I did okay seeing it was my first time. Maybe I should do your feet next time? Oh! Did you want me to do your arms?" Tino rambled aimlessly, desperate for Berwald to stop staring at him. His vision leapt to the tub of moisturiser. The larger man snatched it from the edge of the bed and placed it on the pillow, just above Tino's head.
"No. My Tino's turn now."
Threatening to rip out of his chest onto Berwald's face, Tino's heart pumped his blood too quickly for it not to show on Tino's cheeks. Berwald's fingers stroked the fabric of Tino's shirt, searching for the buttons. Thinking ahead, Tino grabbed Berwald's glasses and artfully slipped them on to Berwald's face, pushing them up the other's nose with his index finger. He blinked a few times now that he could see again. His face edged closer to Tino's as his eyes fixed on something. Instead Tino's eyes followed Berwald's fingers which now moved away from his buttons and to the shorter's lips.
"Your lips are dry."
"Oh! Yes they are! How silly, I forgot to—"
Every sense of Tino's being melted when he saw Berwald take out some lip balm from his back pocket. He wanted Ber to stop and get off him: he wanted Ber to never leave. Why could he not be strong and courageous like Mathias or Lukas? Why did he have to be so anxious all the time?
Tino's heart flipped over when he saw the lip balm edge away from his face tauntingly and instead landed on Berwald's lips. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh. His lips glinted slightly under the low light. His face was too close to the Finnish man. His eyes were too lidded for any good. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh. Instantly the smaller man screwed up his eyes so tight that his head felt light. He inhaled sharply through his nose. This was it, he internally screamed, the moment; please may he not blow it.
Something wonderful happened, I guess. Tino got his moment; that cliché in every movie ever seen, every book ever read, every song ever listened to. They all make such sweeping statements, not unlike the aforementioned sentence. They all generalised. They all seemed so perfect. Lips on lips, warmth meeting skin, and nose pressed awkwardly together or expertly on the other's cheek. Tino noted that Berwald's nose was far too big to be squished against Tino's. Nether the less, he got his moment in the warm bliss. If his mind was a colour it would have been the brilliant pastel pink that people dreamed that sunsets were made of. If his mind was a picture it would have been pastel blue stars that sparkled under a green picnic. How quaint, how blissful, how tragic.
"Su-san…"
And suddenly the heat evaporated to leave Tino with a sudden chill. Tino's eyes flicked open to see no ambiguous blue stare back at him. He saw no grumpy frown or messy blond hair. Berwald had vanished. Tino's mind turned to a suffocating navy. Teasingly Silence sat in the corner of his eye, grinning in the sheer agony of it all.
How fun.
.
.
Author's Notes: Righteo, for those of you who skipped: Tino gave Berwald a massage, Berwald kissed Tino, Tino called him Su-san, Berwald left.