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He had messed up. He let his emotions run a muck and explode out all over Berwald. Now as he watched the back of the tall man walk away from him… the man he loved. He knew he could no longer be called his wife. It stung him in the heart like a wasp. He tried to scream out for him to let him explain and apologize but no words, not a sound came out of his open mouth. He shouldn’t have done that… but the Swede just kept pushing him and pushing him. He felt the hot tears come to his eyes and flow down his cheeks like great waterfalls. How could he have been so stupid? The retreating back of his lover was getting smaller and smaller, and blurrier and blurrier. He began to sob and shake and fell to his knees in the cold snow. Oh the unforgiving snow. Maybe if he’d just lay here until the cold took him. That would be the best, the best for them both. The last thought on his lips as he succumbed to the coldness… “Berwald… I love you.”
“Hanatamago, th’re y’ ‘re.” Berwald mumbled as he scooped up the little white dog in his arms. It was beginning to snow harder. He turned around to walk back to his wife and go home but he wasn’t there. Where had he gone? He saw a heap in the snow and instantly fear crept into his spine. “T’MO!!!” He rushed over to small, frail body; picked him up and carried him like a baby close to his heart as he ran him, Hanatamago bounding in the snow behind him.
He woke up with a shiver. Death certainly was cold. And yet there was a warmth shining through. He thought he heard the voice of an angel call his name. His eyes opened with a flutter and when his eyes focused again there was his angel. His giant Swedish angel looking down at him. “T’mo, ‘m s’ gl’d!” He held the smaller man closer to him. Timo sighed and clung to the taller man. Tears came to his eyes again, relieved tears. He hadn’t messed up. He was and will forever be Sweden’s wife.