#sufruk

    “Berwald.” Someone’s shaking him. He doesn’t want to wake up. Whatever nightmare he’s currently having has to be much better than existing in the world. “Berwald, please. We have a date today. You don’t want to make Francis sad, do you?” The name makes happiness swell in his chest. Francis. One of the two men he’s dating. The other is Arthur, who must be trying to wake him up. His eyes open, and his suspicions are confirmed. “What were you dreaming about, love? You were frowning awfully hard.” He runs a thumb over Berwald’s lips. It sends a shiver down his spine.

    “I d’n’t r’m’mb’r.” He scrunches his face up slightly at his morning voice. Arthur laughs at his expression, and presses a gentle kiss between his brows.

    “Well, whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t something too serious. You would have remembered it if it were.” He pulls on a shirt, which makes Berwald register that he’s only wearing a towel around his waist. “Francis is taking a shower now, but he shouldn’t be much longer. Do you think you can wait for him before you get ready?”

    “Ja. C’ffee.” Arthur laughs, and hands him a mug.

    “Already made. We’re getting an early start, so I thought it was the least I could do. Francis is going to make breakfast while you shower.” Why does he need a shower? He had one yesterday. He goes over the returning memories from the night before, and flushes crimson. Oh. Sweat. He sips on the coffee, staring at Arthur as he dresses the rest of the way. The voice from his dream returns.

    “Look at him. Look how perfect he is. Do you really think he gives a shit about you? You’re a pity case, at best.” He blocks out what he is at worst. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows he’ll convince himself it’s true if he does. As it is, he’s running through everything they’ve ever done as a throuple to pinpoint all the times they could have been pitying him. There’s so much, it makes him dizzy. “See? What did I tell you? Pity. So much pity. You’re so useless. You can’t even see that they’re pitying you without help? What a worthless idiot.” Berwald swallows hard.

    “Mon cher? Are you alright?” He blinks a few times, sharpening the scene in front of him. Francis is standing there, wrist on his forehead, expression worried. “Are you feeling sick? We can postpone our date. Your health is more important than that.” Berwald shakes his head quickly.

    “‘M f’ne.” He removes Francis’ hand, and gives him the brightest smile he can muster. “No need t’ postp’ne.” He grips the long fingers desperately. Over the years, he’s found holding one or both of them pauses the voice. It has no control over him when he has physical evidence that it’s wrong. Or so he thought.

    “Look at you. Gripping onto him like your life depends on it. Can’t you see he’s faking that concern? No? Wow. You’ve gotten worse than I thought. Nothing they ever do is love for you. Nothing. You’ll do good to remember that.” He can’t take it anymore!

    “Fr’ncis? Arth’r?” His voice cracks, causing him to flinch. They both look at him, giving him their undivided attention. “Do you r’lly l’ve me?” The shock that crosses their expressions makes his stomach flip, then fill with bile.

    “They’re surprised you figured it out.” The voice drowns out what they’re saying. “Look at them, trying to make excuses. Pointless excuses, because you know the truth. They don’t care about you. Not really. They just want-” Stop. No more. Please. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He feels someone take the mug from his hand, then two people hug him. “Don’t listen to what they have to say. Only I know the truth. Listen to me!” Somehow, he manages to fight it long enough to focus on Francis and Arthur’s voices.

    “How long have you been questioning?” Arthur.

    “We’re sorry for not noticing. We should have. Can you ever forgive us?” Francis.

    “Stop it! Listen to me! They’re lying!” Berwald stares dully at the two. No. They care. They care so much. He wants to apologize, wants to tell them he never should have questioned their love, wants to tell them he loves them too. But Uncertainty has another idea. “Fine. Since you won’t listen to me, I have to take matters into my own hands. I wanted to end the world, but I’ll settle for ending yours. Perhaps I can end theirs too.”

    “I d’n’t th’nk we sh’ld see each oth’r anym’re.” No no no! He doesn’t want that! He parts his lips to say something, anything, just as long as he can take it back! But only a sob comes out. Then the tears start. Despite what he’s just said, they envelope him in a hug. “M-m’ke it st-st’p,” he whispers.

    “Make what stop?” He can’t answer that. After a few seconds of silence, Francis tries again. “We can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong, Berwald. We want to help, but that’s not possible if we don’t know what we’re helping with. What we’re fighting.” Fighting. That’s the perfect description. He looks into Arthur’s eyes desperately.

    “Uncertainty,” he whispers. “I can see it in your eyes.” Berwald nods frantically. The Brit gives a bitter smile. “I’ve fought with that before. Berry, why didn’t you tell us? We would have gotten you help before it got so bad. We’ll still get you help, of course, but it’s harder to defeat at this stage. But I believe in you. I know you can beat it still.” Francis nods quickly.

    “Oui, I agree. I know you can triumph over it. I believe in you. We believe in you.” He tightens the hug. “Is our relationship part of that fight?” A nod. “Alright. Thank you for answering. I know that must have been hard. Berwald, I love you. So very much. I don’t want our relationship to end. If you truly think it should, then I won’t force you, but I want to hear from you. Not your uncertainty.”

    “I feel the same. But please, take all the time you need. Don’t feel forced to decide imme-”

    “I’m glad you asked! Berwald bought those teas for you. He didn’t know what you would like, so he got what was recommended to him. Apparently Swedes like fruity and herbal tea.” Arthur softens a bit at the explanation. Berwald bought ten different types of tea for him? How sweet.

    “Well, I suppose trying something new isn’t entirely terrible.” He grabs the raspberry and pomegranate tea, fearing trying that one the least. Blueberry, strawberry, and orange can be overwhelming in tea with other potent ingredients, otherwise he would have chosen one of those. At least Berwald has an electric kettle. Francis nudges him lightly. He ignores him, putting on some water to boil. When that’s done, he goes to open the box, but is twirled around by Francis. He places a sound kiss on his lips, smiling a bit as he does so. When he pulls away Arthur scoffs, cheeks tinted pink.

    “Can’t I give you a good morning kiss?”

    “Of course you can. Just don’t take me by surprise like that.” Francis chuckles, placing a kiss on his forehead.

    “I see. But I like seeing you blush, and the best ones happen when you’re taken off guard.” Arthur pushes him away gently, making a face at him. He takes out a tea bag, and places it in his favourite mug of Berwald’s. Francis hugs him from behind, placing his head on his shoulder. He watches the Brit pour the now-boiling water into the mug, then squeezes him lightly. “How long does it need to sit?”

    “Long enough for you to finish your coffee,” he grumbles, picking up the box to read the brew time. Francis laughs quietly, holding him closer.

    “And what if I don’t want to finish my coffee? What if I want to drink it with you?”

    “Then you have to wait four minutes.” He places the box back in the cabinet with the other teas. He’s still a bit miffed about not being able to drink black tea, but Berwald couldn’t have known that’s what he likes best. He hasn’t told him. And he’s not sure he wants to tell him now. He was considerate enough to buy plenty of tea, despite barely drinking it himself. Francis rocks them back and forth in the silence, watching the tea brew. Arthur doesn’t complain; he likes the warmth. And he might be a bit touch starved, but no one would ever get him to admit it. Berwald walks into the room as he reaches out for the sopping tea bag.

    “God morgen.” Both Francis and Arthur shiver. He has morning voice. He pours himself some coffee, quietly thanking Francis for making it. The three of them sit at the table, sipping silently at their beverages. When Berwald is halfway finished with his, he lifts his head up to look at his two lovers. He gives them a small smile, then bows his head again. Arthur is too flustered to speak, but Francis takes the opportunity to launch into a romantic narrative.

    “I love that feeling I get when you smile. No one sees it often, so it’s already special when we get graced by it so easily. But it’s more than that. Much more. It’s like flowers bloom in my stomach, releasing butterflies with them. They flutter around before landing on my heart.” Berwald buries his face in his mug, obviously embarrassed. Arthur decides to join in on making him blush.

    “Your smile makes me feel like I can fly. It’s a gift to receive one, and it makes me light headed. It makes me lighter than air.” Berwald turns his head away from them, but they can see his blush travelling down his neck. “And you,” he turns his attention to Francis, who is taken aback by the sudden change in person. “Your smile makes me warm inside. I get all flustered without any reason. And I hate that I don’t know how to respond, because you deserve to know how I feel.” The Frenchman bites his bottom lip, trying his hardest to refrain from smiling.

    “And your smile makes me feel like I’m dreaming. It’s too good to be true. But it is. Both of you are with me. It’s a dream I hope to never awaken from.” Arthur clears his throat loudly, taking a long sip of his tea. When he finishes, only his ears show a slight hint of the blush he hid. Berwald takes a hand each, and gives them another smile.