Chapter Text
I met you in a gloomy winter day.
Just like any other day of that nightmare winter, when I wandered deep deep inside the abele forests. Drowned in thousands layers of snow. And suffocated by millions of cries kept screaming by my ears.
Do you remember? Do you? Do you?
I met you when the winter nearly met its end. April came, tear poured down in sorrow and snow melted. Men returned to their ruined hometowns, where black smoke and requiem filled the peaceful golden days in miseries.
White color. Covered the sky. Grey and sour. Bitter and hurtful. Everything was shattered.
I met you, my beloved angel, in the middle of chaos. In the middle of life and death. Of tear and blood. Of thousands regret always sighing.
In the middle of winter. Of one hundred and five never ended nights. Where men fell down, one by one, to build up an enormous tombstone.
Do you remember? Do you? Do you?
I keep asking. But why, you never answer?
...
I, Berwald Oxenstierna, was a medic worked at the Swedish Red Cross hospital volunteered to help in Finland during the Winter War. My job was to help with taking care of the patients.
And you, Tino Väinämöinen, were my patient. You were a soldier got injured in war, a grenaded exploded right next to you, blinded your eyes, teared off half of your face, and sent you away from the battlefield for the rest of your life.
Well, when I met you the very first time, you were just a normal patient like every other poor man in this hospital. You guys came to the war, fullfilled with determination and warm blood. Then got sent back here, half dead, buried in fear and hurt and thousands open wounds.
Blood. Red blood. That fishy smell. Oh my, it haunted me! Forever and ever. Blood everywhere. Slashed onto the white dresses of the nurses, poured down into pools. Painted everyday in that hopeless color. The color of death.
I never, never could run away.
Why? Just why? I was dragged in this woe and never could escape.
On my kneels, I begged for a savior.
...
Out of nowhere, like a blessing, you was sent here to be my salvation.
Warm and gentle, your smile was like the far far away summer days.
You were my angel, to bring me out of this darkness.
But why, in the end, you was drowned. In this inferno?
Instead of me?
Why you left me? In such a hurry?
Why? Just why? I keep screaming. But you, once again. Never answer.
...
Silence. Remains.
...
It was a long day. Many new patients came in on the stretches, half dead. They were crying, screaming and trembling in damnation. Writhing. Groaning. Oh those poor souls, who will save them from their endless nightmare. Gunshots and explosions. Tanks and planes. They kept coming. Like thousands waves in the thunderstorm. The ocean was in deep fury. And we were just poor fishermen kept praying in hopelessness. No one heard. No one saved our pathetic lives.
The operation was a lost. Many men sacrificed. And many were severe injured. The hospital was so busy taking care of them, as well as sending them onto their final journeys.
I helped taking care of the patients with the lottas. Helped them clean themselves, write their letters, have their meals, change the bandages or even sing them farewell songs, these were our daily missions.
That day, I was strolling around the wing, helped the patients with their daily basis. Some asked me to helped them write letters for their families, some asked me to read papers, some wanted me to help take them outside for a walk. Those men asked me quite naturally since they were a bit awkward to ask the girls to do men's jobs.
But I noticed one patient who always tried to do everything by himself, although he couldn't see anything with bandages buried almost all of his head and his torso.
He tried to get himself a glass of water, hardly. His trembling hand almost got the glass broken. But he still stubbornly did it himself, never asked anyone else to help.
Quickly, I came by and poured him a glass of water. I even helped him drink it since I saw his snitched mouth. Carefully.
That guy was stunned in shock. But he smiled at me, gratefully, and thanked me in a pure voice like thousands ringing bells.
I almost left right when I had done my job helping him. But his gentle voice woke up my curiousness. I sat on the chair beside and asked if he had needed anything else. But he just shook his head, smiled in relief. In spite of his fully bandaged face, he still got a bit handsome look left. A young man in his 20s.
"Why you never ask me to help? I will always do my best taking care of you patients, you know."
I asked, curiously.
He shooked his head, grinned sheepishly.
"Niin, I don't want to bother you. You have enough work helping other patients. And I can manage myself after all. But anyways, thank you for caring about me."
He politely answered.
"Nah, just ask me whenever and whatever you want. I will come to help you immediately. Cuz you deserve that after giving all of yours fighting for your country."
I held his hand and stroked it gently. A hand with many open wounds and scars, half bandaged. But was still beautiful in its own way.
"Yeah, I will. That's so nice of you. And your Finnish is good too."
He smiled, more naturally. His smile was warm and shiny like the summer days.
All of sudden, I felt heat burned on my cheeks.
I couldn't say anything. Just murmured.
"By the way, my name is Tino Väinämöinen. I have served in Karelia for two months before getting injured by an exploded grenade and sent here in this pathetic state. Nice to make acquaintance with you ~"
"I'm Berwald Oxenstierna, from Sweden. 've been working here for a month."
I fell in an awkward silence.
But he laughed. Out loud.
...
Your lovely voice. I love it since then.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I love you so much. Do you know it?
But why? You never answer my feeling?