#runar

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.