chapter five

"So we're all definitely on for tonight?" Mathias felt the need to clarify for the third time that day. "We're all going back to my place?"

"If I changed my answer now, would your head explode?" Lukas asked dryly, making a point of flicking through a textbook so as to look deliberately disinterested. The four of them were in the lunch hall, wasting away the last free period of the day, though Berwald and Lukas had books out as if they were studying, to keep watchful teachers away.

"You know, I was actually just invited out tonight," Tino said, a little shyly. "The hockey team wants me to go to the pub with them." At that, all heads snapped round.

"No!" Mathias practically cried. "They can't steal you like that! You were our friend first! Those hockey heads should –"

"Don't worry, I told them I was busy," came the reassuring chuckle. "Gosh, you're very territorial, aren't you?" he teased.

"He's been that way since he could grab toys off me in our prams," Lukas told him. "Do you even drink, Tino?"

Berwald was watching the whole situation silently, all of his worries silent. Yes, he had startled a little when Tino had mentioned going out with the hockey team and seemed to say that he was bailing on their afternoon at Mathias', but now that that was all settled, he could sit back and watch his friends.

He was proud that he had brought them together. Mathias and Tino got on well, and Lukas seemed to tolerate him without getting more than mildly annoyed with the Finn's constant cheerfulness – but Lukas was generally mildly annoyed at everyone, so that was quite an achievement.

The only problem was that now Berwald felt like he was losing Tino to the other two.

"Well, I don't just drink," Tino was saying, "but I can drink. I am Finnish, after all! I could drink Ivan under the table if I really wanted."

"Ivan is a hilarious drunk!" Mathias laughed. "The lot of them go out celebrating wins whenever they get them, and Ivan is always the one you can hear down the street, chattering away in that high-pitched voice of his! I've been out with him a few times as well, he's a laugh!"

"Why is he so friendly all the time?" Tino had to ask. "He's always going up to people and putting his arms around them, is there a reason for that?"

"He was a victim of the primary school gossip mill," Lukas remarked. "People said he was a scary bully, when he was only a bit strange. As a result he's always been desperate for friends and being in people's good books. He's a bit over-the-top about it, though."

"I've seen that picture in Berwald's room of you three on your first day of school!" Tino remembered, as the bell sounded and they started to pack their stuff up. "Mathias, you looked like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards!"

While the four of them walked together, leaving the school and heading for the Dane's house, Berwald kept mainly quiet. He preferred listening to talking, they all knew that. He would have been brooding about how Tino obviously preferred Lukas and Mathias to him, but luckily, Tino seemed to sense his anxiety, and kept asking his opinions, or gently touching his arm so that he didn't fall behind.

Berwald had had a crush on Tino before; now it was full-blown head-over-heels.

Truth or Dare with this group never ended well – after two hours they decided it was time to stop before someone actually got hurt. Berwald was sweeping up the remains of a vase that had been broken in the process of the game, while the others talked.

"My first girlfriend…" Mathias nodded mock-wisely, as if imparting great knowledge, "made the best cookies I have ever known a six-year-old to make."

"You sound like a pervert," Lukas told him, sounding bored – after all, he had been there for the primary school romance.

"I've never had a girlfriend!" Tino laughed, looking around at Berwald. He seemed a little confused as to why Berwald was clearing up a mess that he and Mathias had made, not realising that it was just Berwald's way.

"Of course you haven't!" Mathias seemed to be pointing out the obvious. "You're gay!"

"What?" Tino had never seriously considered that before. Was this strange friendship he had with Berwald… a crush? Of course he felt close to the Swede, and would do anything to help him, but he had assumed it was the natural progression of friendship.

"You're almost as gay as Berwald himself." Mathias seemed sure of it. Lukas didn't say anything, but he certainly wasn't disagreeing. Tino looked at both of them, then over at Berwald, who seemed to be in his own world.

"You shouldn't talk about him as if he's not here… Berwald?" Why wasn't he reacting to this?

"Hmm?" Seeming to snap out of his reverie, the Swede looked around, as if nothing had happened. But Tino could see it on his face – the pallid tone to his face, now with almost-hollow cheeks and dull eyes.

"Did something happen?" he asked worriedly. Berwald hadn't collapsed so it hadn't been a serious vision, but maybe something else? Tino was always on guard now, ever since Berwald had confided in him.

"Sve, you look sick," Lukas said, the first hints of emotion colouring his tone, a slight frown on his face.

"'m fine. It's nothin'… jus' a bit'f a headache."

"Are you sure?" Tino pressed. "You know you can tell us!" He didn't want Berwald to lie for Mathias and Lukas' sake!

"Honest," Berwald nodded, before closing his eyes briefly. All he had was a faint pounding headache, and a sick feeling that something bad was going to happen. But he always had that when another person was going to be killed. He didn't know how to stop it, and he felt so powerless. "Maybe I'll go home."

"Aw! It's only just gotten dark, Sve!" Mathias tried to cajole him into staying but Berwald was firm in his decision.

"If'm getting sick, better t'go home now."

"Would you like me to walk you home?" Tino asked sadly. He would miss Berwald's company. But again, a shake of the head was his reply.

"It's not far."

Still, Tino followed Berwald into the hallway, watching as he got his jacket and shoes. He did like Berwald; he knew that. He liked him a lot. He was still staring at him, trying to work out his feeling just by fixing his eyes on Berwald's face, as Berwald made to open the door.

"See y'tomorrow?"

"Oh! Oh, yes…" If Tino stood on tiptoe, he could easily give Berwald a quick kiss from this angle. Just a short one, even just on the cheek…

… but he didn't.

"I'll call when I get home. Ten minutes, max." And then Berwald was gone, and Tino felt a cold shiver run down his spine. When Mathias asked him what was wrong a few minutes later, he brushed it off with nothing more than, "It's nothing... someone walked over my grave, that's all."

The walk home was dark and cold. Berwald shoved his hands into his coat pockets and buried the lower half of his face into his scarf, but there was only so much of the bitter wind that he could avoid. He reached The Elk in less than five minutes, and to get from there to his house all he needed to do was head into the underpass – it cut his journey time in half.

Every step echoed as he walked down, down into the chilly stone subway. It was a short and dimly-lit walk to the other side. As he started, he could hear the sound of a group of people – people his age, or thereabouts, boys – singing raucously up on the street, the sound of a team song drifting closer. They would probably get into the underpass soon as well.

Berwald was walking close to the side of the wall, head down. His head was throbbing again. With each pulse of blood, his hearing got a little dimmer, sounds fading in and out of focus.

Pulse. There were other people in the underpass now – a group, (was that the hockey team?) and someone else, someone with their hood up and hands buried in deep pockets.

Pulse. Berwald passed the first person, the hooded man. Their shoulders brushed.

Pulse. Suddenly, the man whipped around and grabbed Berwald, hand coming out of his pocket and revealing, glaring in the faint yellow light, a knife. Berwald's fist wasn't fast enough and he felt the knife sink into him –

pulse –

- there was a shout from the other end of the underpass, the sound of a bottle being dropped, as Berwald sunk against the frozen wall, choking on air and gripping his attacker tightly, for want of something to hold onto –

pulse –

- all he could hear was his own rushing blood, feeling it soaking into his shirt, and the sound of running feet, heavy slaps on the stone –

pulse –

- then the sound of shattering glass, and the realisation that the hands pushing him against the wall were slackening.

Pulse.

Pulse.

He heard the sound of more footsteps, but the lights were dimming, and his head lolled to the side. Berwald's last thought was that he hoped he would dream as much in this deep sleep as he had all those years ago, when his sick, five-year-old body had sunk into the darkness in the very same way.

A/N: Back from Hungary and back to school in two days... hopefully I'll finish this before then, though I'm not making any promises! Leave a review with your feedback, and stay tuned for one more chapter!