At that, Tino moved away from the counter and sat across from Berwald. His hands- very smooth, not riddled with paper cuts and writing blisters- reached over the neglected muffin to slide over Berwald’s. His soft pink lips curled into a quiet smile, and he allowed fingertips to glide over knuckles a bit before finally speaking.
“I understand. I don’t want your dad, his new wife, or any of them to come. I know. But.” He turned Berwald’s hand over, opened his palm, and started tracing the cracks. Tickled. “I think that what’s going on between you and your brother can be fixed. He never lied, cheated, left. Never did anything wrong. You both had a bad childhood, and nobody understands that better than he does. So maybe you guys should just...talk things out. He’s a grown man.”
“Doesn’t act like one.”
Tino smirked. “You don’t know that. So just consider it.” Consider Berwald’s ass, Tino had hooked him and he absolutely knew it. Why must he always be so right?
“Fine. But yer payin’ for damage.”
Tino laughed shortly before snatching up the muffin. “My family sits naked in saunas and whack themselves with birch branches. You’ll be the one standing out.” -- Normally, Mathias didn’t hear from many people in a month.
Clearly, this was extra special.
Or it would be if he was hearing from people he actually desired to talk to. His mother, for one. Unlike Berwald and his access to LexisNexis and a zillion news resources, all Mathias had to go on were Internet search engines and local obits. The name Astrid Oxenstierna yielded few results, one of which being a fraudulent interior decorator. Mathias had sent her a letter, feeling a bit like the ugly duckling. Always searching, never finding. Turns out she was not his mother, but a brief rapport had been struck up nonetheless. Oh, what Berwald would say of his fraternizing with criminals.
Lukas, too. He certainly wouldn’t mind hearing from Lukas. His mother appeared to have been cured of whatever ailment, since he wasn’t being recruited for pickup duty as of late. Shame. His days since had been wiled away with Sadiq blowing smoke rings in his face whilst reciting his litany of woes. Or dragging himself home from the evening bar excursions, since Gilbert insisted that if Mathias didn’t mind, he and Arthur had their duty as friends-with-benefits to fulfill and it’s just awkward with a third party. Unless he wants to join.
Maybe he’d just die of second-hand smoke and be done with this.
So clicking open his inbox the nineteenth day after the dinner was shocking to say the least.
Berwald.
Mom’s dead. Dad’s dead. Berwald’s dead and he set up his email to automatically send this postpartum missive.
“My wedding is July tenth, three o’clock. You can come if you want. You have to wear a tux, and it is not BYOB. If you come you may end up being my best man.”
Oh. Worse.
Mathias ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair, exhaling all the while. So Berwald finally decided to invite him. Tiny must have convinced him- those big violet eyes and beatific smile could get Mister Paint-Peeling-Death-Glare out of his own ass if nothing else could.
Well, if Berwald could be dismissive.
“See you then, bro.”
Mathias was versatile.
The ugly duckling did eventually find his swans. Berwald certainly did.
Funny how Lukas should pop back into his mind right then. And the telephone. What an afternoon. Clearly, the die had fallen in his favour today.
Re: Untitled, Part 4/? B
“I understand. I don’t want your dad, his new wife, or any of them to come. I know. But.” He turned Berwald’s hand over, opened his palm, and started tracing the cracks. Tickled. “I think that what’s going on between you and your brother can be fixed. He never lied, cheated, left. Never did anything wrong. You both had a bad childhood, and nobody understands that better than he does. So maybe you guys should just...talk things out. He’s a grown man.”
“Doesn’t act like one.”
Tino smirked. “You don’t know that. So just consider it.”
Consider Berwald’s ass, Tino had hooked him and he absolutely knew it. Why must he always be so right?
“Fine. But yer payin’ for damage.”
Tino laughed shortly before snatching up the muffin. “My family sits naked in saunas and whack themselves with birch branches.
You’ll be the one standing out.”
--
Normally, Mathias didn’t hear from many people in a month.
Clearly, this was extra special.
Or it would be if he was hearing from people he actually desired to talk to. His mother, for one. Unlike Berwald and his access to LexisNexis and a zillion news resources, all Mathias had to go on were Internet search engines and local obits. The name Astrid Oxenstierna yielded few results, one of which being a fraudulent interior decorator. Mathias had sent her a letter, feeling a bit like the ugly duckling. Always searching, never finding. Turns out she was not his mother, but a brief rapport had been struck up nonetheless. Oh, what Berwald would say of his fraternizing with criminals.
Lukas, too. He certainly wouldn’t mind hearing from Lukas. His mother appeared to have been cured of whatever ailment, since he wasn’t being recruited for pickup duty as of late. Shame. His days since had been wiled away with Sadiq blowing smoke rings in his face whilst reciting his litany of woes. Or dragging himself home from the evening bar excursions, since Gilbert insisted that if Mathias didn’t mind, he and Arthur had their duty as friends-with-benefits to fulfill and it’s just awkward with a third party.
Unless he wants to join.
Maybe he’d just die of second-hand smoke and be done with this.
So clicking open his inbox the nineteenth day after the dinner was shocking to say the least.
Berwald.
Mom’s dead. Dad’s dead. Berwald’s dead and he set up his email to automatically send this postpartum missive.
“My wedding is July tenth, three o’clock. You can come if you want. You have to wear a tux, and it is not BYOB. If you come you may end up being my best man.”
Oh. Worse.
Mathias ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair, exhaling all the while. So Berwald finally decided to invite him. Tiny must have convinced him- those big violet eyes and beatific smile could get Mister Paint-Peeling-Death-Glare out of his own ass if nothing else could.
Well, if Berwald could be dismissive.
“See you then, bro.”
Mathias was versatile.
The ugly duckling did eventually find his swans. Berwald certainly did.
Funny how Lukas should pop back into his mind right then. And the telephone. What an afternoon. Clearly, the die had fallen in his favour today.