Mathias opened his mouth, closed it, and stood. He kicked his chair over and left, cursing loudly. Berwald took the opportunity to pour most of his soup back into the pot, and sat back down. He ate what little was left in his bowl, knowing that as much as he didn’t want to, he needed to eat at least a little.
Berwald started to feel suspicious when Mathias hadn’t returned for several minutes. He usually didn’t take long to cool down; by now he should have come back, given Berwald a snarky response, and put his chair back up. Frowning, Berwald stood, and headed to the living room to find him.
Mathias was standing next to the couch, arms crossed, staring at his travel bag. He looked conflicted.
“Mathias.”
The Dane turned to look at him. “What the hell was that?”
“Usually ya insult me back.”
Mathias shook his head and scowled. “Usually ya keep your insults to my language and my taste in music. That wasn’t banter ya were throwin’ at me.” He uncrossed his arms. “I’m not as much of an idiot as ya think I am, yanno. I can tell when somethin’ is wrong. You punch me, have a breakdown, and then insult me. I’m not gonna let that go.” Mathias took a few steps forward until he was right in front of Berwald. “I’m givin’ ya three choices. One, I stay, and ya tell me exactly what’s goin’ on, and stop bein’ such a god damn asshole. Two, I leave, and I call Tino, tell him everythin’, and let him handle it. Three, I do the same thing, except I call Lukas instead.”
“Yer overreactin’ t’this.” Berwald didn’t like any of the options; he wouldn’t mind any of the three being there with him, but he wasn’t going to tell Mathias what happened, and he didn’t want to deal with Tino’s nagging or Lukas’s unrelenting observation.
“Oh, to hell I am! Like I was sayin’ earlier, you think ya wouldn’t react the same damn way if Lukas was actin’ like this? Or Tino? Count yerself lucky I haven’t told ‘em both already!”
“Ya wouldn’t dare,” Berwald snapped. He was getting angry, more than he’d been in a very long time. It felt strangely good.
“Try me.” Mathias pulled out his phone. “Ya’ve got ten seconds to give me a good reason not to call.”
“Don’t.” Berwald’s hand twitched.
Mathias looked him in the eye for a few seconds, then started tapping at his phone screen.
Berwald closed his mouth, reached forward, and clamped his hand around Mathias’s wrist tightly, jerking it towards him. The phone fell to the ground between them.
Several seconds passed, neither person moving. “Berwald,” Mathias finally said. “Let me go.” No response. “Berwald, this fuckin’ hurts, and if ya don’t let me go, I’ll hit you until you do.”
Berwald finally let go, and his hands started shaking. He hadn’t meant to do that; he wanted to make Mathias stop, but he hadn’t wanted to actually hurt him. He turned and left, quickly, to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Shame consumed him.
A!A: I made up for taking until Saturday to post by making it longer! Well, it wasn't intentionally longer, but it still counts, right? Anyway, thank you for the comments again, they really do help.
A few clarifications (sorry for all of these, but there's a lot of background details that I can't easily insert into the fic.) I promise the friendship with Mathias and Elise and Roderich makes sense; it comes from discussion with friends that I've had, and there's a backstory to it, but like I said, it's not really insertable for the fic itself, especially since it's such a small detail.
Also I forgot to list these at the top, my apologies: Tim is The Netherlands, Gilbert is Prussia, Arthur is England, Elise is Liechtenstein, and Roderich is Austria.
Í'm honestly a bit baffled that Elise is Liech, I thought it would be Belgium, but outside of that
just started reading this, and I'm liking it lots and lots! I'm not good at commenting but just wanted to say that I really like how you handle the whole topic and your characterization of especially Denmark.
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Salve 7c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-09 09:09 am (UTC)(link)Berwald started to feel suspicious when Mathias hadn’t returned for several minutes. He usually didn’t take long to cool down; by now he should have come back, given Berwald a snarky response, and put his chair back up. Frowning, Berwald stood, and headed to the living room to find him.
Mathias was standing next to the couch, arms crossed, staring at his travel bag. He looked conflicted.
“Mathias.”
The Dane turned to look at him. “What the hell was that?”
“Usually ya insult me back.”
Mathias shook his head and scowled. “Usually ya keep your insults to my language and my taste in music. That wasn’t banter ya were throwin’ at me.” He uncrossed his arms. “I’m not as much of an idiot as ya think I am, yanno. I can tell when somethin’ is wrong. You punch me, have a breakdown, and then insult me. I’m not gonna let that go.” Mathias took a few steps forward until he was right in front of Berwald. “I’m givin’ ya three choices. One, I stay, and ya tell me exactly what’s goin’ on, and stop bein’ such a god damn asshole. Two, I leave, and I call Tino, tell him everythin’, and let him handle it. Three, I do the same thing, except I call Lukas instead.”
“Yer overreactin’ t’this.” Berwald didn’t like any of the options; he wouldn’t mind any of the three being there with him, but he wasn’t going to tell Mathias what happened, and he didn’t want to deal with Tino’s nagging or Lukas’s unrelenting observation.
“Oh, to hell I am! Like I was sayin’ earlier, you think ya wouldn’t react the same damn way if Lukas was actin’ like this? Or Tino? Count yerself lucky I haven’t told ‘em both already!”
“Ya wouldn’t dare,” Berwald snapped. He was getting angry, more than he’d been in a very long time. It felt strangely good.
“Try me.” Mathias pulled out his phone. “Ya’ve got ten seconds to give me a good reason not to call.”
“Don’t.” Berwald’s hand twitched.
Mathias looked him in the eye for a few seconds, then started tapping at his phone screen.
Berwald closed his mouth, reached forward, and clamped his hand around Mathias’s wrist tightly, jerking it towards him. The phone fell to the ground between them.
Several seconds passed, neither person moving. “Berwald,” Mathias finally said. “Let me go.” No response. “Berwald, this fuckin’ hurts, and if ya don’t let me go, I’ll hit you until you do.”
Berwald finally let go, and his hands started shaking. He hadn’t meant to do that; he wanted to make Mathias stop, but he hadn’t wanted to actually hurt him. He turned and left, quickly, to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Shame consumed him.
A!A: I made up for taking until Saturday to post by making it longer! Well, it wasn't intentionally longer, but it still counts, right? Anyway, thank you for the comments again, they really do help.
A few clarifications (sorry for all of these, but there's a lot of background details that I can't easily insert into the fic.) I promise the friendship with Mathias and Elise and Roderich makes sense; it comes from discussion with friends that I've had, and there's a backstory to it, but like I said, it's not really insertable for the fic itself, especially since it's such a small detail.
Also I forgot to list these at the top, my apologies: Tim is The Netherlands, Gilbert is Prussia, Arthur is England, Elise is Liechtenstein, and Roderich is Austria.
Re: Salve 7c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-09 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)just started reading this, and I'm liking it lots and lots! I'm not good at commenting but just wanted to say that I really like how you handle the whole topic and your characterization of especially Denmark.
Re: Salve 7c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-09 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)