Accidents Can Happen [Gilbert]

Berwald was late. He had a schedule planned out for working, and he was five minutes behind. He considered these fifteen minutes very important. So, with the box of tools he didn't currently have at his workshop, he rushed out of the house, shoving his feet in shoes on the way. He thought this would be one time he could call on the lift, but decided after pummeling the button it was taking too long, and he didn't like it very much in there anyway. So instead, he started to dash down the stairs, but on the fourth step down, his left foot got on the shoelace of his right foot, and he fell. He toppled down the first set of stairs, hit the back wall at the turn, and stopped just short of the second set of stairs which lead to the floor just below his.

His toolbox which he'd been carrying had burst open at some point and tools were clattering down the stairs Berwald had avoided. The box made a loud 'clang' on each step it hit, and Berwald held out his hand, alarmed. He needed the box to stop before it hit someone or did damage to something. And funnily enough, it did stop. And the tools slid back into it, rather unarranged, but that didn't matter. Berwald's hand dropped to the floor, and the box lowered itself to the floor as well. Berwald stared at it for a few moments before slowly pushing himself up, wincing. His glasses had somehow not slipped off his face at all during that fall, and Berwald wasn't sure how.

(( Good enough. oAo ))

Gilbert had spent the last night working on the rough draft for some history-themed anthology which he had been signed up for. It was a short story on the Acadian exiles with a focus on the initial revolts, but also with a bit of subtle romance here and there. Most of the night had been used up for research and plotting, and he had spent until early morning writing up the draft. It was barely done, but Gilbert was exhausted, therefore he had called it a day and crawled into bed for some much anticipated sleep.

So he was far from delighted when he had been woken up--barely an hour into his slumber--by a very audible thud and a lot of clanging. He got up, ignoring Gilbird’s chirping for food as soon as he noticed Gilbert was awake, and stepped out of his apartment to find out what had just happened.

His apartment was the nearest to the stairs leading to the 8th floor, so it didn’t take him long to spot the cause of the earlier noise. The man with the creepy expression who Gilbert saw a lot around the building was lying at the top of the stairs, and there was a mess of what seemed like tools around him. Gilbert was about to run up and help the guy out, but stopped when the tools suddenly started moving by themselves and into a tool case farther back.

“...” Gilbert rapidly shook his head. No...no, that didn’t just happen. He was probably just hallucinating due to lack of sleep. Yeah, that was it. He tried to shake off thoughts of Cajun voodoo queens animating tools from his mind.

Noticing the man sitting up, Gilbert remembered what he was supposed to do and ran up the stairs. When he was close enough, he held out a hand to help the man up. “You alright?” he asked, giving the tool case a wary glance. “What the hell happened?”

Berwald looked up at the hand offered to him and hesitated before accepting it. He stood up and leaned on the wall. Shutting his eyes, he took a moment to feel out what hurt. His chest hurt, but not seriously. The arm he landed on was rather tender and Berwald reckoned he'd have a bruise later which he would need to look out for, but other than that, he was fine. Opening his eyes again, he gave the man a small nod. "'M fine, th'nks." Then he stepped down the last of the stairs and picked up his tool box, checking it over for damage. There was a small dent in the side, but that was it. Berwald must be lucky.

He straightened up and faced the man who had offered help, looking him up and down. He didn't recognise the man- or perhaps he was vaguely familiar. Berwald had probably seen him downstairs by the mailboxes a couple of times, or passed him on the stairs. He had come out of the door over there, hadn't he? So they lived quite close. Berwald held out his hand to the man. "Th'nk y' for y' help.'M B'rwald Oxenstierna."

(( Ew, super short ))

Gilbert took the extended hand and shook it, grinning somewhat sleepily. “No problem, uh... Brr...Berwald?” He’d rather not try to pronounce the man’s last name, whatever he had said it was. He took his hand back and stuffed it in his pajama pants, just then remembering that it was all he was wearing. Feeling a bit self-conscious now, for Berwald was a couple of inches taller and obviously better built than Gilbert was, he held back the urge to cross his arms in front of his chest. “I’m Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt.”

He sent another glance at the toolbox now in Berwald’s hand, noting that in the times he’d spotted him in the building, he was almost always carrying the thing. Was he a repair man or something similar, or maybe someone just really into building stuff, Gilbert wondered. His gaze slid down and caught on Berwald’s untied shoelaces. He blinked, and putting two and two together, he let out a noise of comprehension before looking back up at Berwald. “You sure you’re okay? No broken bones or anything? It must’ve been a pretty bad fall from what I heard back there.” He pointed towards his room.

^{(( So is this, kinda XD ))}

Berwald, after shaking the man's hand, mimicked him and shoved his own free hand into his pocket before realising what he was doing. It was best to just leave it there, though, he'd decided, and instead nodded his acknowledgement to the other man's name. "'S a pleas're t'meet y', G'lbert." He figured it was ok to call him that seeing as Gilbert had used Berwald's own first name. Berwald looked the man up and down and realised, slightly surprised, that the man was in his pyjamas for some reason. It was rather funny to see his pink toes sticking out, and Berwald wondered why he had rushed out looking like that. Perhaps some quickly slipped on shoes and a dressing gown thrown on would have been a good idea.

At the concerned question, Berwald ran a hand over his torso and arms again. His shoulder hurt when he touched it. Hurt rather like the time the couch structure he'd been working on collapsed over him. But all the same, he shook his head. "D'n't worry, 'm fine. Just a little bruised, th't's all." He pushed up his sleeves to check to see if any bruises had formed yet, but there was only red across the skin where it'd flaired up. "I didn't int'rrupt y' sleep, did I? Y' didn't have t'come out..." He shuffled his feet. Perhaps he was embarrassed, but he wasn't sure why, or of what. And it was nice to see someone caring. "I j'st had a little fall, 's m' toolbox I'm more concerned about." He patted his trusty toolbox with affection. He'd have to hammer the dent out later.

Nodding in agreement, Gilbert gave Berwald a friendly pat on the arm with his free hand. “Nice meeting you, too!” He watched as the man inspected himself once again, and Gilbert also took the opportunity to look him over. Relieved when he didn’t notice any serious external damage--he really didn’t want to be witness to a casualty this early in the day--he sighed and absentmindedly rubbed the sole of his foot on his pant leg.

“If you’re sure.” He frowned when the big red splotch on Berwald’s arm was revealed, but tried to shrug it off. It didn’t seem like it bothered the man himself, so it should be fine. “And what, did you expect me to just pretend I didn’t hear you and your stuff crashing down the stairs?” he asked with an accusing tone, but he was smiling.

Just a couple of minutes ago he had been ready to yell and complain at who or what had disrupted his sleep, but he just didn’t have the heart to do it now. Berwald did look apologetic, even though he was the one who fell and will most likely have ugly bruises later. And besides, Gilbert was glad that his concern, though not his original intention, was recognized. Not to mention that if Gilbert ignored the man’s scary expression, he was actually almost cute.

Gilbert chuckled at that thought; he must really need sleep now.

His smile grew at seeing Berwald regard his toolbox with something akin to affection. “Well, seems like it’s still in one piece, so that’s great, man!”

Berwald simply shrugged awkwardly. "Hn. Maybe." Berwald knew that he wouldn't ignore the sound of someone falling down the stairs, so he shouldn't really be telling people to do otherwise too, even if it was him falling down the stairs and he can take care of himself. Not that anyone else knew that. Berwald always had his phone on him so that he could contact an ambulance if he needed to. Still, Berwald offered a smile back, but it was quickly dropped. Instead he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

He nodded at Gilbert's next comment. "Mm. I managed to catch it when it fell." With my mind! He yelled internally, and looked down at the toolbox, glancing at the content inside. He knew that he hadn't touched the toolbox until after it fell, and he was also pretty sure that Gilbert would have seen him get up and catch it if he had, not just sit up and groan. But how was he supposed to explain to someone that he made an object stop moving without laying a finger on it? Answer: he didn't. Hopefully Gilbert wasn't too observant of what he was saying.

Realising he'd been thinking to himself a little too long, he cast his mind around for something to say, but he was drawing a blank. "Er-... Shouldn't... You go sleep?" There, that was something. And certainly Gilbert looked like he could do with a good night's sleep. Berwald wondered what he was doing to tire himself out.

Gilbert almost let out a louder chuckle. This guy is so... The thought trailed off, since he still wasn’t really sure what word would be the best to describe Berwald. His impression of the man had been “scary. possible serial killer. stay away.”, but it changed with this current encounter. Now Berwald seemed more...shy? And calm. Like a grizzly when it’s not...you know, killing other animals. An image of Berwald wearing bear ears and a bear suit popped up in his head, and Gilbert promptly turned a bit pink at the endearing picture.

When he had gotten out of that sort of daydream, it was on time to catch Berwald smiling...

...and wow, that was creepy.

He blinked, staying quiet for a few more seconds to process what Berwald had said, before raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You ‘caught’ it? That wasn’t how I saw it back there.” He wasn’t supposed to mention it, since really, he probably must’ve just imagined the whole animated tools deal, but ‘what if?’. What if he had just witnessed something incredible and suddenly he wasn’t all alone in the weird, illogical skill department? It wasn’t like he had much to lose by simply verifying, after all.

So with a quiet sigh, he began, “The tools. First I saw, they were all scattered on the steps, and I was about to go help you out, but then...” He gestured towards Berwald’s toolbox. “Then they started moving and went into the case. By themselves. While you were just lying there.” Okay, it sounded more ridiculous after being voiced out, and Gilbert probably looked like a crazy person right then with how messy he appeared and with the dark circles under his eyes, though he only became more determined to get an explanation. “And it’s no problem. I can sleep whenever I want.” Lie. “And uh...your lace’s untied,” he concluded lamely, pointing at Berwald’s right shoe.

^{(( I'm sorry I took so long for this shitty reply. *kowtows* ))}

Berwald shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I did catch th'm." So he wasn't going to get away with this one, perhaps. He doubted he'd find a way around it but maybe a distraction method...? The man seemed intent on the subject. Maybe if Berwald told him the truth, he'd be left alone. Dubbed a 'weirdo'. Isolated. That didn't sound too bad, actually. He lived on the top floor, he wouldn't have many people passing by his house, it'd work. Berwald tried to think up an explanation for his not-touching catch. Wires, maybe? The man's wild imagination?

"Hm..." Gilbert didn't need to explain what he saw. Berwald saw it too. He made it happen. "Y's. They moved. I moved th'm." Berwald didn't appreciate being described as 'Just lying there'. It sounded unmanly, and Berwald didn't like to be unmanly. He scratched his cheek. "I... Hn... I moved them by thinking." There. Own up time. He hoped it was clear and that Gilbert would simply accept it. "Y' thought right. I used m' mind. I'm..." What was he? Maybe he could come up with something ridiculous. Like. Magic.

Worth a shot.

"'M an elf. F'r Santa." Berwald kept his face completely straight and serious (Not a difficult feat). He didn't often pull these silly games. No, Berwald didn't ever do that sort of thing. Sure, he tells little white lies sometimes, but more often, he's a serious person. It was oddly... Exciting. Berwald was sure that wasn't normal.

I saw what happened! You didn’t catch them! Gilbert wanted to shout in frustration at the man. Was Berwald shitting with him? Gilbert was absolutely positive about what he had witnessed. The tools and toolbox had been scattered. Berwald had landed a little ways away and couldn’t possibly reach them. The tools had magically come to life and stuffed themselves into the toolbox. And that was it. Unless Gilbert had somehow gotten himself caught into a glitch in the matrix and missed something. Come to think of it, that would be a freakishly awesome possibility.

But back to the matter at hand. He was aware he was just repeating himself, but really, Berwald couldn’t have caught the tools with his hands! He was too--

Gilbert paused his inner tirade, and it all finally (and belatedly) pieced together in his head. The theory was verified by Berwald moments later. Though Gilbert wasn’t sure how to react now that it was out in the open. Berwald had moved the stuff with his mind. Definitely a lot cooler than Gilbert’s ‘glitch in the matrix’ theory. Well, almost. But still, Berwald had telekinesis, if that was what it was called.

It was kind of strange how he was more fascinated and inwardly freaking out over discovering another person’s ‘ability’ than when he had learned of his own ones. But this isn’t all, he thought. Certainly there was something much bigger going on around him. Maybe he should consider taking a day off or two and do some investigating...

“‘M an elf. F’r Santa.”

Gilbert was thrown off his detective-slash-conspiracy theorist mode, and he stared at Berwald, incredulous, though the man only kept his dead serious expression. Gilbert wondered if the eloquent ‘what’ he had uttered in his head could somehow manage to become audible, because he didn’t know what else he could say to that declaration.

He didn’t have to worry about it for long though, since he already began to feel an onset of laughter in his throat, and pretty soon he was full out bursting. He wasn’t sure why Berwald had said that, but the image of him wearing the widely-recognized elf costume and towering over all the other, littler elves... Man, that was just too hilarious.

“Wha--haha--wha-...what...?” was all he could manage over his laughing fit.

When Gilbert started to snicker at Berwald's own declaration as an elf, he felt his lips twitch upwards. He felt utterly ridiculous, making claims like that, but seeing other people laugh because of him made him want to do it more. He nodded. "Y' heard m'. 'M visiting here t' find out wh't toys kids want. Break into their houses 'n' such." It was hard to keep a straight face while saying all this, especially when it made him sound like some sort of creep, but Berwald managed, stopping his lips from trembling into a reluctant smile.

While Gilbert seemed occupied with his giggles, Berwald thought it an appropriate time to tie his shoe laces. He looked down at them and wondered if he could tie them with his mind, if he'd caught his tools with his mind too. It was possible... He narrowed his eyes and his shoelaces quivered before starting on the first loop. Then the second... Doing this slowly seemd to be working. In fact, it was actually pretty easy! Berwald allowed himself a mental pat on the back, but realised only a moment later, that he should have saved that for the end, because when he did, his shoelaces started tugging about in random directions. Now they were certainly tied together, but it looked like he'd have to get new laces, because there was no way he'd be able to un-pick that knot without the use of of a sharp knife or scissors.

He looked back up at Gilbert and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I should b' offend'd that y'r laughin' at m' because of m' elvish ethnicity. And job." He was starting to grow tired of this little lie and wondered if he should walk away. Maybe, maybe. He wasn't sure how much he trusted that knot though, because even as tied as it was, there were still two large strands of shoelace he could potentially step on.

Perhaps it was time to head back up the stairs, so he turned around to face them.

“O-o-oh god... You’re killing me, man!” Gilbert was laughing so hard that he had to lean back against the nearest wall to support himself. There were tears gathering in his eyes, and he tried to shakily wipe them away with a hand. This elf thing was cracking him up more than it should have been. Maybe it was because he was starting to go crazy from lack of sleep, or maybe it was because of the fact that it was this guy--Berwald--who was saying it. It was more likely a combination of both.

His stomach was starting to hurt from all the laughter, so he finally tried to will himself to stop. He had been too preoccupied with that task to witness the telekinetic shoelace-tying, but once he was done, it didn’t take him long to notice that Berwald’s laces were suddenly tied in a very unconventional way. It was easy for Gilbert to put two and two together, and he quickly sobered up. Right. Kinda got distracted back there. Now to get back on track.

“Wait a sec.” He reached out and grabbed Berwald’s arm to stop him from heading up the stairs. After that, he wasn’t sure what he should say. Though if the whole calling-himself-an-elf thing were anything to go by, Berwald didn’t seem to want to talk about the ability. And for once, Gilbert was going to respect that and not pry. So instead of grilling Berwald about the telekinesis deal, he just smiled and jokingly declared, “It’s your fault for putting the image of giant you wearing a stereotypical elf costume and hanging out with tiny elves in my head!” He paused before adding, “And what’s your job anyway?”

Berwald shrugged at the elf-image comment. He hadn't pictured himself like that but he supposed it wouldn't look too bad if it didn't show off his knees. Also green wasn't his colour. Apparently he was a more blue-and-brown combination kind of guy, at least, according to a certain flamboyant man who lived on his floor. Seeing as Gilbert didn't want to see him leave so quickly, Berwald supposed he could just slice up his shoelace right there, so he turned back around to face the other man and sat on the stairs, settling down and rooting through his toolbox for something sharp.

"'M a carp'nter. I make m' furnit're 'n' I sell it in m' shop." He jabbed his thumb in the vague direction of his shop. "'S the one j'st down th' road with th' blue arm chair in th' display." Surely Gilbert would have passed it plenty of times and would know waht he was talking about. "S'metimes I sell thr'w pill'ws made by Arth'r Kirkl'nd, wh' lives downstairs. He makes th'm and gives th'm t' me t' sell th'n we split th' profit." That was a business deal he was proud of, because the pillows made his shop look so much more friendly and warm.

While he spoke, he located his little carving knife and pulled his shoe off, taking a moment to observe the hole in his sock with mild surprise before hacking at the shoelaces, careful of his fingers. Being shoelaces, at least they were easy to cut through. As he did that, he took a few moments to look up at Gilbert, pushing his glasses up his nose as they slipped. "'N' y'? Wh't d' you do f'r a livin'?" He asked, feeling that he should continue the conversation, throwing back the same question Gilbert had asked him.