I don't care if it's cliche - I love when whumpee breaks down in someone's arms. Literally crying on someone's shoulder. The someone can be Caretaker, Leader, their Mentor - anyone - as long as they're holding whumpee close and encouraging them to let it out
YEASSSSSSS !
“So, what Whumpee did to you was wrong, okay? You understand that?”
“But— how? why? They get mad sometimes, it’s not—“
“Shh.” Caretaker gently shushes whumpee, shifting their weight on the mattress. The new, soft mattress they’d brought especially for Whumpee to sleep on. “You deserve this bed. It doesn’t matter what ‘punishment’ shit Whumper did. You are safe here, and that wasn’t normal.”
Whumpee nods, looking at the floor. What do they mean, not normal? Was it not normal to sleep on the floor? Not normal to curl on the hardwood floor, gathering as much warmth as they can? It all wasn’t normal? It wasn’t… but what is now? Caretaker says sleeping on a bed like this is normal. It’s so different, so—“
“Whumpee? You can cry, you know.” Whumpee hadn’t realised they’d been crying before, but Caretaker’s voice tells them otherwise. They notice how tight their chest feels, eyes waterg with tears.
“You can cry.” Caretaker doubles down, their eyes gentle and full of concern as they gaze at Whumpee’s face as if they can figure out what they’re thinking. Whumpee can’t hold it. ALL this wasn’t normal. It was bad, and mean— It’s all so much, too much. One sob, then another, and another— They bury their face into Caretaker’s shoulder, not caring anymore— they just need them. Need Caretaker, need the close, warmth of their body, the soft floral perfume smell.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good. You can cry. Just let yourself cry, sweet thing.”
Whumpee doesn’t need to be told twice. Their eyes are hazy and watery, hot tears streaking down their face. Their face feels hot and flushed, and everything’s just stuck in these sobs that are slowly being released. It feels so good to cry like this— they don’t think they ever have before. But each breath, every tear, eases the tension and stress and racing thought in their head.
“Just let it out, whumps. I’m right here.” Caretaker wraps their arms slowly but surely around Whumpee, one hand patting their back. They rock slightly, remembering that motion from their parent that soothed them. Whumpee keeps crying, and crying, until the sobs turn into sniffles, and the sniffles to sleep.