#hey liam

(Now on AO3!)

The summer heat pressed sticky against Bren’s skin. Even in the shade it was oppressive, the smell of damp earth and living things mingled with the bitter scent of bile. This morning he and Eodwulf had been lamenting the rain keeping them indoors, and now he wished it was still here. Rain would hide him better from the house, and would wash away the acrid taste of vomit from his mouth. He’d made it all the way to the poplar grove before heaving, but he didn’t fool himself in thinking the others hadn’t known where he’d gone. The sun shone brilliantly against the leaves of young trees, and Bren pushed himself back onto his heels, shame and sweat thick on his skin.

“Hier.” Silver glinted at the corner of his eye, and Bren spun to see Astrid standing behind him with a flask in her outstretched hand. He felt a blush creep up his neck, and wished desperately he’d finished that reading on invisibility. After a second in which wishing made him no less visible, he accepted the flask and took a swig. It was only cold, clear water, and he spat it out after swishing it around his mouth. He thought about it, then took another swallow to wash the burn out of his throat.

“Danke,” he said softly. He stared at her boots, unable to stand what he might see on her face.

“Bitte,” Astrid replied, just as quietly. And then she went on in Common, “You have to get better at this.”

Bren nodded jerkily, his mind caught for a moment on the memory of a man on the ground, screaming. Seperate from his arms. He stumbled to his feet, pushing the memory and the nausea back by sheer force of will.

“You have to, to, box up your feelings, Bren. You just let go, and it’s like watching something happen to someone else. You’re not there. It’s not you doing those things.”

He did look at her now, though instinct still screamed that he needed to hide, to disappear. “Is that what you do?” he asked. Slowly, he offered the flask back, and slowly she reached out to take it. There was a moment when their fingers brushed and both of them hesitated before letting go. A moment where Bren could feel his heartbeat in his fingers, where he was seen and not pitied but understood.

Astrid drew back, and it was over. He could smell his own vomit in the air, and there was dirt on his hands and knees from where he’d fallen. All of his nerves came rushing in to scream, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe for the noise.

“I could. If you wanted, I could teach you.” Her voice came from a great distance, distorted as if underwater. Bren forced air into his lungs, let it go again. Processed what Astrid was saying.

“You would do that?” he asked at last, and focused on the flash of light as Astrid put the flask back in her coat.

“Ja. Bren, you’re good at this. You just need help with the bloody parts.”

He closed his eyes. Nodded once, sharply. “I will be better next time.”