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Storm

829 words | No Warrior (sequel to Warmth, references Fireside)

Prompt | @whump-until-wretched

Content | Referenced past trauma, mostly comfort really

Notes | Surprise! This was such a perfect prompt for them, I had to do something for it.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpadump1939 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpzone @angel-stars @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen @rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping @nine-tailed-whump @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass @whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba @fabled-whump @painwithoutplot

The weather was awful, the wind howling around the hut with blinding flurries of snow. Runar, like, he was sure, the entire rest of the village, hadn’t set a foot out the door all day. It wasn’t unusual weather, and like every winter he was prepared to wait it out for days if necessary, firewood and food stocked up.

But for Yves, it appeared to be new. He’d given Runar anxious glances when he’d announced they’d have to stay in, then sat by the window, peering through the cracks of the shutters until they were covered in darkness — snow or night, it could have been either one. His trembling hands fidgeted in his lap. Runar was glad when he came to sit by the fire instead. It seemed to calm him a little, too. He was no longer trembling, at least, but that might have been the warmth.

Now he sat and stared into the flames of the hearth, just like that other night, when-

Yves didn’t flinch when Runar sat down next to him, which was heartening.

»Are you alright, sweetheart?«

Yves glimpsed down at him. His eyes were wide, but he didn’t look immediately terrified. He turned back towards the flames before he replied, quietly, »I’m okay.«

Runar nodded, steeling himself. He wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say, but when could he ever be sure? »I was wondering…«

Yves turned back towards him, now distinctly wary. Runar wasn’t blind to the anxiety he apparently caused with every little attempt at change, but then, their day had already been overthrown by the storm, so maybe now was a good time.

If nothing else, they had all the time in the world.

»Do you want to talk?« Runar offered softly.

Yves watched him, his brows knitting into a frown. When he turned away again, his lips were pressed together.

Runar suspected he knew exactly what he meant, and the fact he asked for no clarification confirmed it. Although that might be just his usual timidness.

»You don’t have to, obviously.« At least he hoped it was obvious. »But, uh. You… chose to tell me something the other day and I was wondering… if maybe it would help. Sometimes it does.«

Yves’ lips twitched, and Runar pulled back a little, worried he’d put too much pressure on, despite the care he’d tried to take.

But Yves’ eyes flicked up and followed him. »Why?«

»I want to help you,« Runar explained patiently, for the hundreth time.

»If you knew…« Yves shook his head, his eyes back to the fire, shrinking in between his bony shoulders.

What do you think would happen if I knew? Runar wanted to ask. Instead, he said, »You don’t have to… let me know. You can speak in your language, if you want. This is for you, not for me.«

Yves stared at him, then quickly cast his eyes down, then a dry, uncertain chuckle wrested free from his throat.

Then he stared into the fire again. Runar recognized the faraway look that crept into his eyes. It was all he could do not to hold his breath.

The fire crackled. The wind howled, quieter now there was so little of the hut left to catch against outside the snow.

Finally, Yves started to talk.

At first, the words came haltingly, what Runar guessed were barely fragments of sentences staggering into the empty space of long pauses. Then brief, quick rushes alternating with even deeper silences. Yves’ arms were wrapped around himself, his body curled in protectively against a long-gone threat.

By the time the tears came, he wouldn’t stop talking, his voice rising in sobs and anger, then falling to a whisper. His hands curled before his mouth so Runar could barely hear him.

But by the end of it, he sat straight. Grabbing on to his own arms, sure, but staring defiantly into the fire mirrored in his eyes.

* Yves felt raw, as if he’d scraped his heart open. His cheeks were wet, his vision bright with amplified fire. He wiped them dry until the hearth before him was clear again.

Runar’s eyes were still on him, he could feel it. He’d sat in silence all this time, listening. Yves still didn’t know what he was doing this for; he’d gained nothing out of it.

This is for you, not for me.

His heart was rushing in his chest. It had been a lot. He felt a little ill, like a fever had just broken. He was strangely hungry, as if he’d done hard work.

He sat in silence, waiting for Runar to say or do anything. Then he realized he had no way of knowing he was done.

He felt like he couldn’t talk any more. He just slid off his chair and towards Runar and… he could only stand there awkwardly, until-

»Would you like a hug again?« Runar offered, very quietly.

Yves nodded, and buried himself in his arms.

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