In which Berwald changes his mind

[oxenstierna_b]

WHO: Berwald & Sindre
WHEN: 4th of July, night
WHERE: Sindre's apartment
WHAT: Berwald is not feeling so great, and doesn't want Sindre to know it... tough luck.

Comments

[talks_to_nisse]

Berwald still wasn't back from work.

Sindre hadn't thought anything of it, at first. True, Berwald had been rather conscientious of letting Sindre know where he'd be at all times, but Sindre was getting better and didn't need a minder so constantly, and Berwald was an adult. He had attempted to read Män Som Hatar Kvinnor, but he only managed a chapter and a half before admitting he was too restless to read. Still, he managed to convince himself that Berwald had merely gone out, and had done the same, seeking dinner and beer out among those celebrating the United States' not-quite Independence Day

[oxenstierna_b]

Berwald shook his head. He had a feeling if he opened his mouth something awful would happen. And then something did, regardless of the fact he hadn't made a sound, because he felt his eyes grow wet and the tightness in his chest expanding into a sob. It was sudden, so sudden by the time he really understood what was happening enough to hide his face his cheeks were already wet with tears.

He shook his head again, because this was not happening, not now off all times, not in front of the one person he least wanted to show such weakness to.

[talks_to_nisse]

It took Sindre a long, long moment to process the scene in front of him. Berwald was crying. He had shown up distressed, and now he was crying. It couldn't be because Berwald had been harmed, somehow. Berwald stubbornly refused to show pain, back in school. It took Berwald hiding his face to shake Sindre out of it, but when he did he led Berwald to sit down on the couch.

Sindre opened his mouth to speak, to ask, then decided it didn't matter. Not immediately, anyway. Instead, Sindre pulled him into a hug, tucking Berwald's face into his neck so he could continue to hide it.

"It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

[oxenstierna_b]

It felt good, being held like that, as it always had, but despite that it hurt, because this was just like before, this was Sindre treating him like a brother. Berwald wanted more and felt guilty for wanting more and he didn't deserve it.

Despite all that, he couldn't scrounge up the willpower to push Sindre away, or to stop more tears from falling. The most he could do was keep them mostly silent, muffling any noises he might have made into Sindre's shoulder.

When he finally spoke, after he'd finally run out of tears, it seemed, his voice came out raw.

"I don't know why, I'm just... tired," he whispered.

[talks_to_nisse]

Sindre shook his head. "If we rest first, you won't eat until tomorrow. You can sit, though, while I heat up some of the leftover soup. Just don't fall asleep at the table."

[oxenstierna_b]

"...fine," Berwald mumbled. Despite his promise, he leaned his head on his arms almost the moment he sat down, following drowsily with his eyes as Sindre started to warm up the soup.

Funny, this was almost a reversal of the time Sindre returned from the hospital, he thought tiredly.

[talks_to_nisse]

A fond smile crossed his face as Berwald promptly did as he told him not to. Fortunately, the soup didn't take too long to heat, and Sindre was able to have decent food in front of Berwald before he fell completely asleep.

Stroking his hair to get his attention, Sindre didn't bother to try to set the bowl and spoon down quietly. "If I have to feed you, I'll ensure that photos of it get out to your parents at the very least," Sindre threatened, the gentleness in his voice contradicting the harshness of the words.

[oxenstierna_b]

Berwald raised his head with some difficulty, spooning up the soup with what remained of his supply of grim determination. He knew, on some level, that it was quite nice soup, but he couldn't really taste it. Still, it was good of Sindre to-- to... to make sure he was eating? That was important, right? To stay fuelled and all that.

Berwald tried to rub at his eyes, the glasses he'd forgotten he was still wearing bumping against his face. Annoyed, he pulled them off and dropped them on the table, nevermind that he immediately lost his remaining ability to focus on anything.

Then he looked bitterly down at his plate, and the food he knew was still there despite not really seeing it anymore. He could have cried, like he hadn't since he was four and realized crying never changed anything, certainly not for the better.