Berwald felt like he'd hardly slept the previous night...discounting the nightmare, which had left him neither rested nor willing to risk anymore sleep. He'd laid in bed for a while, before getting up and going down to his workshop in the cellar, where he'd mostly been sitting and staring at the grain of his workbench, the chair leg he'd meant to work on clutched uselessly in his hand. It was cold in there, but he hardly noticed. It kept him awake, at least
( ... )
When the Swede entered the kitchen, Tino stared at him for moment with visible wariness, holding onto his cup a bit more tightly as if he was protecting it, and he was almost sure that Berwald would turn around and leave until he's gone when the Swede suddenly opened his mouth, and the question made him blink.
"...Sure," he finally said, putting his cup down and reaching to take Berwald's favourite cup that he hadn't used in days, pouring him a cup in silcence before he walked to him, offering the cup and looking up at him. "...I thought you had quit."
He couldn't completely erase the blaming tone from his voice, but he didn't want to fight about it so he quickly rushed to continue, "But I see you haven't."
Rubbing the back of his head, he stared up at the other man, noticing dark circles around his eyes and seeing how tense his shoulders were. And suddenly he felt sorry for him. Obviously he wasn't angry, he was ashamed. And that was good enough for Tino, he didn't need him to explain himself, even though he knew Berwald would
( ... )
Despite his resolve to talk to Tino, Berwald still couldn't quite meet his eyes, his gaze glued to the floor. He sighed at Tino's question, willing himself not to wince physically at the accusing tone.
"...no," Berwald mumbled, "J'st...didn't seem right t'..." he choked. None of it had seemed right, but he'd done it anyway, hadn't he?
Numbly, he took the cup and slumped into one of the chairs around the kitchen table. The mug was warm, almost hot enough to burn his hands as he curled them around the ceramic cup. It was only then that Berwald realized just how cold he was too, that his fingers were stiff with it.
He glanced up at Tino quickly, just to see if his expression would fit the tone of his voice earlier. He couldn't see it right away. Indeed, Tino's expression was more...neutral? Perhaps still a bit wary, and Berwald wouldn't blame him for that at all.
He sighed again, shoulders slumping tiredly.
"...'m sorry," Berwald said quietly. "'ve been..." horrible. But the words stuck in his throat, as they so often did.
Shaking his head before the Swede could finish, Tino sat across him and put his mug down. "You don't need to apologize to me." Sighing, he leaned to his elbows and rubbed his forehead. "...It's not like I haven't done some things that... yeah
( ... )
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"...Sure," he finally said, putting his cup down and reaching to take Berwald's favourite cup that he hadn't used in days, pouring him a cup in silcence before he walked to him, offering the cup and looking up at him. "...I thought you had quit."
He couldn't completely erase the blaming tone from his voice, but he didn't want to fight about it so he quickly rushed to continue, "But I see you haven't."
Rubbing the back of his head, he stared up at the other man, noticing dark circles around his eyes and seeing how tense his shoulders were. And suddenly he felt sorry for him. Obviously he wasn't angry, he was ashamed. And that was good enough for Tino, he didn't need him to explain himself, even though he knew Berwald would ( ... )
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"...no," Berwald mumbled, "J'st...didn't seem right t'..." he choked. None of it had seemed right, but he'd done it anyway, hadn't he?
Numbly, he took the cup and slumped into one of the chairs around the kitchen table. The mug was warm, almost hot enough to burn his hands as he curled them around the ceramic cup. It was only then that Berwald realized just how cold he was too, that his fingers were stiff with it.
He glanced up at Tino quickly, just to see if his expression would fit the tone of his voice earlier. He couldn't see it right away. Indeed, Tino's expression was more...neutral? Perhaps still a bit wary, and Berwald wouldn't blame him for that at all.
He sighed again, shoulders slumping tiredly.
"...'m sorry," Berwald said quietly. "'ve been..." horrible. But the words stuck in his throat, as they so often did.
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