Chapter Text
Berwald sat in his bed with blankets layered atop his legs, a bowl of soup cradled in his shivering hands. It had been made by the baker's wife in town. Nice lady. It was good soup, but he had no appetite for it. It wasn't the same as Tino used to make it. He glanced over to the book that he kept on his bed side table. Berwald had found it open and abandoned on the window bench. It was Tino's favourite, and no doubt the boy had left it in a hurry.
The blue eyed man had blamed everyone and everything for his misfortunes, from the Gods to Hevo to himself. Poor Tino was trapped in the beast's manor, or worse. And the beast had told him that if he should attempt to come back for his charge, Tino would be killed. Maybe he had already been killed. Berwald coughed and some of the soup spilled on the upper most quilt. Hanatamago whined from beside him, curled up under the man's arm. Berwald knew that she missed Tino too.
What was he to do though?
Groaning, the man placed the untouched soup on the small table to his right and slid further under the covers. The doctor of their little village couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, and it was proving to be worse than the cold that he had initially thought it to be. He felt weak, his head was fuzzy, his ears wouldn't stop ringing and his limbs were heavy as stones. And no amount of bed rest was making him better.
Seeing Tino would make him feel better. But that was never going to happen. His chest tightened at the thought, and his coughing fit started anew. He blew out the candlestick on his bedside table once he was able to catch his breath, eager to try and get some sleep.
Just as his eyes began to close there was knocking at the door, and it pounded through his head unpleasantly. Hanatamago jumped up, yelping and yapping and running to the entrance to welcome whomever it was. It was probably just the baker's wife again, coming to check on him. She had just been there the previous evening, but Berwald knew she worried too much. It was kind if nice to have someone to fuss over him.
The sickly man struggled to get up to greet the visitor, and he blindly reached out to find his glasses that were lying somewhere beside him. He had just started to get comfortable too. Oh well. The blanket trailed behind him, a cocoon to keep in the warmth that he had finally accumulated. Another loud series of knocks made him groan.
"Comin'." He was sure that his voice hadn't carried past the door. He'd be there soon enough. Yet before he could walk another foot, the front door slammed open. Well, that was rude. People were so impatient these days. Berwald frowned and turned the corner.
The sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Berwald allowed the blanket to fall from his shoulders.
His fever must have spiked, that was the only explanation. This was all some vivid dream or hallucination, because there was a familiar mop of blond hair on the small figure curled around Hanatamago. The soft voice coming from the little blond sounded as if the person was crying into the dog's fluffy white fur.
Berwald hardly felt the hot tears that dripped down his own face, and they rolled off his chin.
"Tino?"
The small blond's head whipped around as the hesitant voice called his name. Yup, Berwald had known it. Tino was crying too. The older man couldn't help but smile through his own tears. He felt his strength returning to him, and suddenly the boy was in his arms. He never wanted to let go again.
That night was spent on their small couch by their stone fireplace, and Tino recounted all of what had happened to him. Berwald asked very little, and hid well his surprise and dread as Tino spoke fondly of the beast. When Tino finally finished his tale by telling his guardian that he would return to the manor in a week (as he had promised Ivan), Berwald sent him to bed, stating that he must be exhausted from such a long trip home in as few words as possible.
Berwald spent the remainder of the night lying in his own bed thinking, unable to sleep.
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Tino and Berwald fell back into their routine easily. It had taken a few days for the boy to nurse his guardian back to complete health. Once he had, it was back to helping Berwald in the workshop, the familiarity of sanding and the constant comforting scent of wood shavings surrounding him. It was home.
During his downtime, Tino would run to the bookstore to fetch books he had read a million times before. His chest ached every time he entered the small, dusty shop. It's tiny, cramped interior reminded him of the vastness of the library that had been gifted to him, hours upon hours spent pouring over books that he had never even heard of. He found himself putting down the borrowed novels from the village store, bored of the monotonous rehashing of stories. It was far more pleasant to stare out the window into the forest instead, imagining the path back to the manor with perfect clarity. Closing his eyes, he could picture Ivan clearly, waiting at the front door for him, all broad shoulders and horns and piercing violet eyes. Tino couldn't help the smile that came to his face, though when he opened his eyes and the vision vanished, so did his momentary elation.
Having Hanatamago curl up against his chest at night was something he had missed dearly. But even that made Tino think back to nights spent curled up against Ivan's side in their sitting room, after a day spent doing whatever they pleased. He longed for the swaying music of the gramophone and the dedicated nature of their evenings in the lounge.
The mirror that he kept by his bed side was a constant reminder of the manor shrouded by the deep woods, and the lonely beast that he had left behind.
A week passed by quickly and it surprised Tino just how much he wanted to return to the manor, how much he had missed Ivan while he had been tending to Berwald. Even though he was more than ready to see Ivan again, Tino could feel his heart being torn between the village and people he had grown up around, and the manor (and its occupant) that he had come to adore. The few items that he was taking back with him were packed by the door, the promise of returning to visit upon his lips. Tino felt a certain amount of excitement and relief at the idea of returning to Ivan's side.
Berwald, however, was not happy with how fast the week had gone by. Seeing Tino's possessions by the front door made him feel cold with familiar dread. He didn't want to let Tino go again. He wouldn't let him go back to that horrid manor and terrible beast who had kept him captive for so long. The brightness that Tino had brought back to their little cottage and his life within that short week was testimony to the fact that he belonged here. The small Finn belonged with Berwald and Hanatamago.
Berwald begged him to stay just one day longer “T' help with that chair I've been workin' on.”.
How could Tino say no.
Just one more day couldn't hurt.
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Ivan sat on his chair, knee bouncing up and down with energetic anticipation. Today was the day that Tino came back! His dear little Tino. Then they could drink and talk and dine together and maybe he would be able to finally return the departing kiss that Tino had given him.
As sad as he had felt when watching his Tino leave, Tino had promised that he'd be back today. And these newfound feelings of excitement and longing were strangely thrilling. He pushed himself up from the ornate fabric, standing and pacing the lounge. All the curtains around the manor had been pulled back, and bright sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the manor's interior. Ivan hadn't felt so energetic and light hearted for a long, long time. He had put on his best clothes and he had even trimmed his hair and...oh, he was just so happy that Tino was coming back!
But... Блядь! He hadn't given Tino a specific time to be back by, and it was already mid afternoon. And what if his little blond didn't come back until it was pitch black outside. Ivan wouldn't be able to sleep until he came back. The beast chewed at one of his fingernails with nervousness that had temporarily overcome his giddiness.
But, Tino would be back, he reasoned with himself and smiled once more.
Ivan waited in the lounge, their favourite room, until the sun went down. He ate a small amount of the feast that had been prepared and then made his way back to sit in front of the fireplace in his chair. He waited up until the old gramophone and crackling fireplace made his eyelids heavy with sleep.
When he awoke the next morning Tino had still not returned.
Maybe he had just gotten the dates mixed up! Yes, that was it!
Ivan waited three more days for his beloved Finn to return to him before he simply gave up. He closed up all the curtains, locked the doors, and sealed his heart once more. He was a beast, a monster. And no one would ever love him.
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Just one more day really couldn't hurt. It couldn't!
Tino told himself the same thing each and every day that his guardian asked for one more, giving any excuse he could to keep his charge by his side.
“Mrs. Jokinen needs help in her garden t'day. She said she'll give us some soup f'r dinner.”
The boy couldn't say no. The entire time that he was plucking weeds and unwanted saplings, Tino couldn't help but wonder how the grounds of the manor were faring with the warming weather. Would the trees be starting to bloom? Maybe the fountains were turned on once it got warm enough! He could picture the family of deer wandering into the grounds and drinking from the water features. Maybe he and Ivan could feed them.
The next day it was “I need some help fixing th' Eskola's staircase in town. It's a big job.”. Which ended up taking two days to finish. But Tino figured he could use the knowledge to fix up the stairs to the West wing when he got back.
Tino didn't want to leave his home, but the manor had become just as much a home to him in the short amount of time that he had spent there. Despite Berwald's best attempts at trying to keep Tino's spirit's up, it was clear that the boy felt the guilt of his promise weigh down upon him more with each passing day.
The mirror lay tucked in his bags that remained by the door, ready to leave when Tino was. It lay there forgotten, waiting for Tino.
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Flowers began to bloom in abundance as the cool spring rains and warming sun nurtured both the carefully tended gardens and the abundantly wild flora around the village. Tino would pass through a plethora of beautiful flowers each day that he went back and forth to and from the village to run the constant stream of errands being given to him. Each day, more flowers bloomed and grew, and each day they looked more beautiful than the last. Those flowers, so full of life and colour, made Tino happy, and he would pluck a variety of wildflowers each day to keep in little jars and jugs in every room of their small house. By his bed though, he kept only a single golden sunflower.
While the other flowers had to be replaced every few days, Tino's sunflower remained strong, its head lifted and its colour brilliant. He would wake up and fall asleep with the precious flower in his sights, cherishing its beauty until he could make himself return to Ivan.
The morning that he woke up to see his sunflower wilted, its petals scattered across his night table, Tino knew that something was terribly wrong. Dread settled in his gut as he threw back his quilt and bolted to the front door. The mirror was in his bag. He hadn't used it since he arrived here, and he had packed it so long ago with the intent of leaving, of keeping his promise to Ivan. He gripped the cool metal, and there by his front door he concentrated on the milky swirls upon the mirror's surface, thinking of the dead sunflower, thinking of Ivan.
Tino almost dropped the mirror as the surface cleared to reveal Ivan. It frightened him how different his beast looked. Tired, worn thin, his beautiful platinum hair bleak and limp. Ivan looked like he was in pain, and Tino could see that he was crouched over on the floor with sunflower petals scattered around him. Had he caused Ivan to hurt this much? Of course he had. He hadn't kept his promise! He was a damn fool and-
And...he had done this to his beast.
He had to get back to Ivan. Right now.
Berwald had told Tino that he would be in town this morning, but Tino couldn't wait around or take a detour. Tino scribbled a quick, slightly hysterical note and tacked it to the wall in front of the door. Berwald would understand. He had to. He didn't have a choice.
Tino ran, the mirror clutched in his hands. He ran out the door in his sleeping tunic, only taking the time to put on his shoes and forgetting his bags in his haste. He ran to Hevo because he knew, even in his state of distress, that she was faster than he would ever be on foot. Tino clambered on to the mare and urged her "Faster, faster!", even though he could tell that she couldn't push herself more than she already was. And when Hevo finally stopped inside of those glorious black gates, Tino all but jumped off of her and ran to the manor doors. He banged on the heavy wood once he realized they were locked. There was no response. Nothing.
He was feeling all to desperate and terrified of the implications behind the locked doors. And desperate times called for desperate measures. The windows on either side of the doors were just large enough for him to fit through. Tino picked up a fair sized rock from one of the front garden beds and tossed it with all of his might. The glass shattered and he continued to break the hole until it was large enough for him to shimmy inside the manor. The heavy black curtains that had been drawn over the windows were torn, casting highly contrasting spots of light in the otherwise pitch black halls. Furniture had been turned over and broken. There was no merry crackling of the fireplace in the distance. The manor gave off almost the same feeling as the bedroom in the West wing. Tino felt sick. He couldn't focus on the destruction around him though when he needed to find Ivan.
The last place that the mirror had shown Ivan to be was by the bewitched sunflower. The West wing of the manor. His mind recalled the path with hazy accuracy. Through the winding halls he rushed, his legs screaming at him from the hours of non stop riding. But Tino pushed himself to continue running through the dusk lit hallways until he had reached that dusty, decrepit staircase.
Throwing abandon to the wind, he tore up the neglected stairs, paying little attention to the furniture that grabbed and ripped at his clothes and skin. It was as if the mess of obstacles that lined the hall were mocking him, teasing him as they slowed him down. His goal was so close at hand. Ivan was right there, right behind that door.
Tino clambered over a pile of shredded, wooden floor boards, feeling as each splinter licked his skin. Choking back a sob, he tore through the detritus and threw his shoulder against the door.
The soft glimmer of fading sunlight streamed in through the balcony windows, illuminating the room with a sickly serene finality.
The beast lay on the floor next to the white pedestal, looking terribly small for someone so powerful and large. It scared Tino to no end and he ran to Ivan's side, sliding to his knees.
"Ivan, Ivan..." Those beautifully cold eyes were closed, and the sunflower that had once glowed vibrantly behind its glass cage was in the beast's hands. It now barely shimmered with the golden luminescence it had once had. Tino brushed a soft, trembling hand to Ivan's forehead and brushed back soft platinum hair.
"Please don't leave me Ivan. I'm sorry I stayed away for so long. Berwald needed me. I'm so sorry. Please don't die." His words were choked by tears, sobs wracking his chest as he felt at Ivan's neck for his pulse point. It was terribly faint, just like the flower's glow.
"What do I need to do to make this better? Just tell me what I need to do Ivan. Please. Talk to me." He yearned to hear that too cheerful voice telling him that this was all just a joke, just a cruel prank because Tino hadn't kept his promise. But there was no response whatsoever.
"Please Ivan..." Tino gripped broad shoulders shaking the beast gently. But Ivan remained still, pale like the white marble of the pedestal. Tino felt large tears roll down his cheeks, his lips trembling with the effort of withheld cries. They splashed on to the beautifully torn clothing that Ivan wore, and he watched as they soaked in, leaving dark spots in their place.
Of all the regrets he had ever had, this was the one that tore at his heart and he choked on the pain. He had never told Ivan how he felt before he left. Though maybe it was only after he had been away from the manor that he had come to realize it. Somewhere along the line, he had fallen in love. He smiled sadly at the revelation.
"You can't leave me, Ivan. Rakastan sinua."
I love you.
Tino whispered the words softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of cold lips. He dragged his fingers along Ivan's cheek, stroking softly, pressing his lips to the beast's face over and over again in silent prayer. He wished for the warmth to return, accompanied by that shy blush and smile that Ivan liked to wear.
But here he was, too late to help Ivan, too late for his sincere feelings to reach his beloved beast. Tino broke down once more, leaning his forehead to Ivan's chest, his hands curled tightly into torn fabric as ugly sobs escaped his lips.
Something warm and tingling touched against Tino's cheek as he continued to cry and he shot up from where he had been hunched over Ivan's body. Ivan's now glowing body. Tino shuffled back rapidly as the sunflower in Ivan's hands dissolved into golden dust, and the small blond watched in fascination and hope as whatever magical force was at play lifted Ivan's body a few feet from the ground. The horns that had grown from the man's head vanished in much the same way as the sunflower had, and the golden dust floated down upon Tino. All the tears in Ivan's clothes seemed to be mended by the soft glow around him, and his scarf looked brand new. The glow spread outwards to all parts of the bedroom, and what Tino assumed to be the rest of the manor as well. It fixed and cured as it went. When the magic had finally run its course, it gently lowered Ivan back to the ground.
Tino was at his side again in an instant, all wide puffy eyes and hopeful, bated breath. “Ivan?”
The man groaned, his eyes fluttering open in response and Tino threw himself against Ivan, more tears flowing down his face. He felt arms wrap tightly around his middle, pulling him closer as warmth enveloped him.
“You came back.” Ivan's voice was laced with confusion and fatigue and Tino just laughed through his gurgling tears.
“Of course I came back.” Tino tilted his head down and caught Ivan's lips with his own. Ivan pulled back to catch his breath after a few moments of stilled shock, and smoothed his thumb across Tino's mouth. Ivan smiled brightly at his little lover, having no need to hide behind his scarf any longer. He dragged Tino's face back down to his and kissed him once again.
And they lived happily ever after.