Never Enough Whump

society teaches people to lie and stay silent about these things. small talk sucks. whumpee gets asked "how are you?" dozens of times a day, and it feels like a sick game because they can never answer honestly. "how was your weekend?" "did you have a good holiday?" "how did you get that scar?"

(and, in theory, whumpee should be allowed to answer that one truthfully, but nooo, it's still too much to hear even though the nosy fucker asked)

so whumpee just bottles it up. and technically it's fine because it wasn't that bad, and they weren't even forced to go to therapy by their doctors so clearly no one else thinks they need to talk about it either. some days the idea of people knowing feels like the worst thing in the world.

"Please -- p-please don't hit me again."

Whumper lowers the whip, sighs like they're indulging Whumpee, and says, "Okay. I won't hit you again."

And they don't. But the feeling of the knife cutting into Whumpee's skin is somehow even worse, and when their agonized scream fills the room, Whumper is delighted.

Caretaker sees them wearing themselves out and reproaches them for being unreasonable. Instead of brushing it off and saying that they’re fine, whumpee sighs and looks up with a bitter smile.

They remind caretaker that nobody else can manage what they’re doing. They are the only one who is competent enough, and caretaker knows it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for a day of rest, whumpee says, but I can’t do it.

His hand on the nape of Whumpee's neck tightened not enough to hurt, but enough to command absolute attention. He leaned down, his face inches from Whumpee's, his eyes boring into theirs with a terrifying intensity.

outside, the bells had already rung for dawn, and the clatter of footsteps up and down the stairs and clamor of voices in the courtyard below strengthened from a trickle to a river. the sunlight snaked its way through the narrow window; Seskia buried the heels of her hands in her eye sockets, seeking the stillness and the darkness instead.

the bone-deep ache in her legs, the leaden density of her body as she rolled over in the tangled blankets, the tremor in her arms as she tried to push herself up to her elbows - she got one look at the festival garb slung over her chair and the open clothes-chest before she fell back light-headed on the pillow again, and it was no more than she expected.

she'd given them two days. two days up on the festival dais with the others, two days mixing with the crowds with a smile on her face, proving to the people that the Lord's eldest daughter did still exist somewhere after all. two days she'd paid for each night, with blank and dreamless oblivion as soon as she'd been allowed to disappear to her chambers, but now -

"my lady?"

it was Corinn. she didn't need to knock by now, her voice was enough, and her soft touch on the knob just so that the hinges didn't even creak.

Seskia felt more than heard her approach, like a shadow on her awareness, and forced an eye open to see her maid standing over her bed with quietly narrowed lips.

"will you be dressing for the hall today?"

she breathed in, choking back what felt like a sob. "I - I don't think - "

with a rustle of skirts Corinn knelt down by the bedside, hands folded on her knees.

"I'll tell your father you're tired. I'll tell him - you don't have to."

"yes. yes. it's a tired day again, Corinn. I'm sorry."

"it's not a sorry thing, my lady."

it was such a sorry thing, she thought sometimes. such a sorry thing. but Corinn helping her sit up against the pillows, bringing water in a basin, lifting her achy exhaustion-weighted arms with gentle hands to help her wash away the sweat and stickiness of the night, was as ordinary as so many mornings in the last months, and Corinn had never made her ashamed of any of it.

it's hard to think of a better threat than something red hot. like THINK about it. an object that glows the color of blood. you can't take your eyes off it. it's not like a knife or a gun, only scary because you know what they can do. you can feel a red hot piece of metal before you touch it; it has an aura of unbearable heat, not enough to really damage you but enough to tell the primal part of your mind "DANGER DANGER".

hello! <3 yes!! I love scar discoveries so much! always delightful.

whumpee getting too careless in the locker room. since it was getting terribly late and no one was around, they get undressed— only for their friend or caretaker to walk out of the shower stalls. whumpee never told anyone anything beyond the basic rundown. upon hearing the horrified gasp they immediately put something on, hurrying to leave.

during their first bath after many, many days, caretaker politely asks whumpee to get ready. any sense of shame regarding their state of undress was thoroughly destroyed while they were captured. they haven't seen themself in a mirror for so long— and they have a vague idea of scarring on their back, but they don't realise how bad it is until they turn around to see caretaker's anguished expression. it is surprising. they didn't expect any... compassion. caretaker asks if they can hold them. whumpee can only nod as they are pulled into caretaker's arms.

“Hey, hey, please don't shut me out. We can just sit together in silence, yeah? I just… I really don't want to leave you alone right now.”

“Ding dong. Open up, I brought your favorite snacks.”

“Sorry about the mess. I tried to clean up, but…”      “Don't even mention it. I'm here for you, not your apartment.”

“Do you want me to stay?”      “You don’t have to.”      “Not what I asked.”      “…then yes.”

“I don’t want to dump all this on you.”      “That's bullshit. You’re not dumping anything, I'm your friend. I want to know how I can help you, even if all I can do is listen.”

“I'm fine.”      “Want me to stay anyway?”      “Yeah.”

“Sorry that I just showed up like this, but you stopped responding to my texts.”      “…Sorry. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”      “I did.”      “Yeah. You did.”

“You’re annoying when you care about me.”      “It's a pleasure.”