Hearts do break. A Berwald Oxenstierna fanfiction

Wow, fuck you, pen

"Great. Just fucking great." I threw the pen as hard I could onto the sepia wooden floor. Good thing no one could hear me, nor the pen harshly clicking onto the wood floor, hitting so hard that it bounced a few times. The the last bumps not as loud as the others, but audible none the less.

I live alone. Eerily alone, in dead silence. It's just silence all the time. Silence, silence, silence. Although, silence is not so bad. I have had it my whole life. This broken down little silence. It's a bit sad I suppose if you were to look at it from the outside, but it's quite quaint if you could imagine.

All the time in this world, nothing to do it with. How much better can it get? No one to bother you. Not having to keep up with the flow of the outside world, of course, interactions were always nice, as long as it didn't involve touching or talking or- never mind, I'm alright with no interactions.

Let's just say, in the past, I hadn't had that good of luck interacting about the world. I got pushed around. I got bullied. It's not fun, not at all. Although, it may be a bit funny on the other end.

Hm so let's see the list of the gross tragedies that are completely useless to you, but you probably should know them anyway. Ah yes, here is one. The only interesting one for that matter. Well... to you anyway.

So in this cute little sad story about myself, my high school lover boy, Onit, dies of Leukemia. Hah, yes tragic and typical. All stories need a plot you know. Plus, I would rather not talk much about that, but oh, the times we spent together were amazing. The peak of my life actually if I do say so myself. Onit was about a 5'7 I believe. A little above my shoulder? I don't really remember since I try not to think about such useless fantasies; they'll just bring me down and whatever else daydreaming does.

Insert me dreamily sighing, hands under my chin, fluttering eyelashes. Aha, sadly I would never do that. Yes, back on track, Onit, my love and boyfriend of 4 years. There was never any official break-up. I couldn't stand to break his heart while he was dying in a hospital bed, not that I had any intentions of breaking up with him. We were happily in love, but what a shame he had to die....

Ah yes his feathery white hair that layed on his head, which felt more like silk, and his settling magenta eyes, cool and crisp like a night in autumn. Hm..

Anyway, God fUCking damn it. Of course my last, and favorite pen had run out of ink, and so I slipped on a jacket, gently over my shoulders, which I realized had shrunk. My jacket was a little tight. The brown leather didn't help, though it was silky and smooth, it did not stretch as I had hoped for it to; I had grown out of it.

I simply took the jacket off and threw it at my chair I had been sitting at. Hahah fuck you jacket. I didn't need that jacket anyway. It's not like Onit gave it to me or something (which he did).

It wasn't that cold probably. It was spring at the time and oH!! Hello I forgot to mention my name.

I am Berwald Oxenstierna.

Anyway, spring can still be unusually bitter but it was nearing towards summer.

Ah, it was actually somewhat pleasant outside. I had lived in this Swedish town my whole life and I had grown into this treacherous and ivory white cold, which freezes your fingertips a little if you stayed out too long and it would feel like terrible pinching and stabbing if you didn't wear gloves. I suppose I could buy a jacket as well while I'm out.

Achoo.

What the hell that was so cute. Too cute for a fucking 6'2 man. What the fuck am I doing.

Alright, so you're probably wondering where I get this money from anyhow. Well, if I didn't mention it before, I am a full time writer, hence why I don't get out often. I usually just mail all my writing to the editors and really only go out to pick up microwaveable meals and ramen and shit like macaroni.

God that sounds really distasteful.

Anyway I walked into a general store.

Hmm. Fountain Pens... Nice. HMHMM. YEAH. OH YES PENS MY CHILDREN. MY BABIES I LOVE YOU SO. I WILL TAKE YOU AWAY ON-e day. Oh I'm so sorry about that uh. Yeah. I'll just pick up this nice fancy Bic fountain pen now because Bic pens look radical as radical can get but the good kind of radical, you know? hMNn I can feel these pen vibes in my kokoro. I mean my heart. I swear to god I'm not a weeaboo help me.

So I paid for my pen and opened it immediately. LET ME JUST TELL YOU, PLEASE DONT JUDGE ME IM REALLY FRICKIN SENSETIvE, OK? I WILL CRY AHG. Also about the jacket, I doubted they had any good ones so now I will go to a nice little store where they sell a lot of coats that are home made.

Ah the smell of fresh linens and leather and wool. so warm and inviting. I licked my lip which was more of a nervous bite but licking lips sounds a whole lot sexier. So I did that and then proceeded to walk in. I debated on what kind of jacket to buy, but alas, I cannot pass up a leather jacket when I see one. This one happened to be black and I didn't really care to be mistaken as someone on a boy band, whICH IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FAN FICTION AND I DEFINITELY SUPPORT IT. UHm sorry that wasn't me, I don't know where that came from. I honestly didn't care if it was brown blue or pink and it looked good so I got it. I can look sexy if I want to mwahahahah.

And so I decided I would make a dinner tonight, going to a market I bought some mackerel and some lingonberry sauce and some seasonings. I don't know how to make a fish so I would probably just look it up when I got home.

Many cuts from my knife and videos later I had successfully pulled my fishy friend from the oven. It had been topped with all the fucking seasonings because why the hell not and blah blah blah because you really don't want to hear about this food did you, you just want to get into the fucking juicy part.

Thought so.

Lingon berry is frickin delicious and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It's tart, but also really tart. I DON't exPect CoMmON FoLK LIKE YOU TO UNdErStanD ITS ALRIGHT. It's like woOwo. NOICE. Like I can't describe it; it's cool.

So now I promptly throw my brown jacket out my chair, but not before kissing and apologizing to it and I laid my new holy fountain pen down on my sturdy desk, which smelt like citrus since I had recently cleaned it. I could have sworn that angels were singing to me and sweet, sweet harmony was restored into the kingdom.

So me, playing victim to thinking about Onit, which I had sworn to never do, but had because inevitable due to today's events, decided to write about Onit on paper. So what should his name be? Of course I can't use the same name, that would be plagerism! Hah no I just don't want to be disrespectful.

Haha that's it! I'll just spell Onit backwards.

How about Tino?

Hm I don't really like it, but I want to keep it somewhat related to Onit at the least. At the top on the page I started to write

Tino.
A precious boy at the age of 25 as of December 6th of last year.
My love.
My prince.
My everything.
The one that keeps me happy.
The one who keeps me alive.
His blond hair, as soft
as his silky milky skin.
and eyes as purple
as the fading sunset.
One of a kind.
A true, true master piece.
And a true true love.
Someone to trust.
And someone to count on.
The sun shining on a rainy day.
And the stars when the moon is out.
Tino.

I could feel a tear slip from my eye onto the paper. lol I'm not actually crying; I'm a man, my eyes were sweating lol. I pushed the thin piece away. It was late already, though I usually slept during the day and it was night, I was too tired and I wanted time to daydream or perhaps just night dream. Wait isn't that just regular dreaming? Whatever.
I went to bed.