Catch Perfect

Chapter 4

CHAPTER THREE

MANIAC: A wild, reckless player.

Berwald liked his job. Working all day in the open air surrounded by greenery and gardens was the perfect antidote to the dark nights he was used to spending in dingy back-alley bars with dingy, dangerous people. Plus he was good at it, he didn't have to speak to anyone, and he actually enjoyed the long hours - they gave him plenty of time to think.

He had not slept well the night before, unwilling to leave the safety of his alcove after fleeing up the stairs after Denmark's mad rules rant. He then spent the entire night thinking about Tino, about how creepy he was being thinking about Tino, about rule number eleven, about rule number seven; he could not stop worrying about Denmark, about if he was going to fit in, about how he never fit in, about whether he wanted to fit in, oh God rule number seven. Berwald was up at the crack of dawn and out of the house before anyone woke up. But he could not stop himself from glancing down at Tino as he crept past... and from feeling guilty thinking how lovely Tino looked as he slept.

And so, Berwald was on his way to the janitor's room because, in his exhaustion, he had forgotten his key to the biology greenhouse. He had already spent an hour mowing the sports field before remembering he'd done it the day before. He did not often enter the interior of the university, and so felt completely out of place as he hurried as fast as he could through the hallway. The students threw him surprised and suspicious looks in his dirt-stained clothes. He ignored them. Berwald was good at ignoring people. Just as he neared his destination however, there came an unwelcome voice which was simply impossible to ignore.

"Heya Sweden, how goes it?"

Berwald turned to find Denmark pushing through the throng of students, grinning. Norway trailed behind, actually reading a book as he walked - Berwald caught the name 'Kierkegaard' on the cover. Berwald groaned inwardly. This was just what he did not need right now. Or ever, really, come to think of it.

Denmark stopped in front of him, still grinning inanely. Berwald stared evenly back. "Whatcha doing in here? Man, you kind of stink. And you're trailing dirt all over the floor, did you know that? Are you free? Great. Meet us in the cafeteria, we're gonna throw stuff at the Russian kids. It's gonna be awesome."

Norway muttered in a bored voice, "YOU'RE gonna throw stuff at the Russian kids. And probably get your ass kicked again."

Denmark's eyes flew wide with indignation. "Don't listen to him, Sweden, that's a lie. I've never had my ass kicked."

Norway eyed him disdainfully. "You have, I've done it myself."

Denmark lowered his head and his voice. "Yes, baby, but that was done in a caring, consensual way in a controlled environment."

Norway closed his eyes and touched his forehead. "You have no idea."

"I love you too, honey." Denmark grinned at Berwald. "So, Sweden, see you there?"

Berwald furrowed his brow, shook his head, and continued down the hall.

Denmark hollered after him. "Your loss, Sweden!"

Only a few minutes later, heading back up the hall with the key, Berwald overheard a massive commotion coming from the cafeteria. Normally he would leave it - being, of course, none of his business - but this time certain words caught his attention.

"Denmark, you are totally the biggest jerk in, like, the entire universe!" an irritated, slightly ditzy voice complained.

"Me?" Denmark sounded outraged. "That Russian is the one that started it!"

"For the fortieth time, Denmark." This voice was softer, and sounded like it was straining to stay calm. "I am NOT Russian, I am Lithuanian."

"What's the difference?"