[Mature] Rest Like You Belong Here

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 29 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aurelie had let him finish, and Aremu didn’t know if he was grateful or sorry. He had known she would; he couldn’t have imagined her interrupting. She had asked, and she had waited, wide-eyed and patient, as he spilled out his absurd, painful thoughts about the children’s story she’d told Efere. His breath was uneven still, flickering, and he couldn’t manage to open his eyes.

It wasn’t as if he never cried. Perhaps he’d have liked to be able to say so, but Aremu knew better. He’d wept like a child when Uzoji had told him Tom was dead, and the other man had held him tightly. He’d wept nearly as much when he’d found Tom again, and not exactly from relief. He’d cried since – thinking about it, Aremu thought grimly, was not helping.

It was the headache, he told himself. Perhaps he’d’ve had these thoughts regardless, but it was just because his head hurt that they seemed to ache so much inside him, that they seemed to threaten at every moment to stream down his cheeks.

He didn’t think he could bear Aurelie touching him just then, and yet at the same time he ached rather desperately for her to put her arms around him. He thought he’d have broken down if she had; he felt ashamed just thinking of it, mostly for how badly he wanted to. This was absurd; she was the one who had escaped from Brunnhold not a week earlier, who was calmly and cheerfully telling Efere a story, and he felt as if he was coming apart at the seams, battered apart by the waves and washed off into the distance.

Aremu hadn’t wanted to look; he did, when he heard her voice, turning to glance at her. Moisture gleamed in his eyes; he closed them, and blinked it away, his hand settled on his lap, and looked at her once more. I loved that story, she said, thoughtfully.

It’s for children, I know, Aremu wanted to say. I know, I know – I’m sorry to have – I shouldn’t have – lying, he thought, or the sort of truth which brushed up against it, would have been better. He felt desperately ashamed; he thought it could only get worse as she went on, but he didn’t dare interrupt, no more than she had.

Real to everyone, Aurelie said. Aremu nodded, mute. Of course, he thought to say. Yes, you’re right, and we’re not. It’s a foolish – it was just the way it struck me, that’s all. She didn’t keep on; she wasn’t sure, she told him, what it was about.

Aremu nodded again, mute; his head pounded, and he closed his eyes another moment, taking a deep breath and tracing his fingers along his temple, pressing them in just a bit.

“No, ah,” Aremu took a deep breath, when Aurelie left off after saying she ought to have picked something different. “Efere liked it. I liked it too. Too much, I, um," his face twitched, "I suppose."

I should go, Aremu wanted to say; I’m tired. I think I should lie down, before I embarrass myself more. He looked at her, instead; his voice cracked a little when he went on. “What do you think it's about?” Aremu asked.

He didn’t know if she’d want to answer; he didn’t know if he’d had any right to ask. He thought if he went now, however badly he wanted to – some door he wasn’t sure was open would close, and he’d lose his chance. His chance at what, he asked himself, and he couldn’t quite answer; he was busy looking at the small, intent frown on Aurelie’s face, the tight grip of her fingers on the arm of the chair.

Come here, he wanted to say; Aremu shifted, as if to make space for her, looking down at the edge of his chair, and then back at her. It’s all right, he wanted to say, here in the light – we don’t have to only be together in the darkness of the cave, or beneath the blankets when it’s dark outside.

Carefully, a little ashamed and a little unsure, Aremu extended his hand, palm up and fingers a little curled; carefully, more frightened than anything, Aremu would do his best to pull Aurelie a little closer, inviting but never forceful.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

29 Hamis, 2720 - Morning | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

In all of her rambling, the brightness in Aremu's eyes hadn't escaped her notice. No part of his face escaped her notice if she was in a position to see any of it, she thought to herself with a touch of embarrassment. This wasn't that kind of looking, but it was looking none the less. She just didn't know what to say to it, if anything at all.

She just kept talking, and he nodded along. She wasn't sure, quite, what that meant. She had seen enough to figure out some things, but not all. It had only been a week, she reminded herself again. Just a week, for all that it felt like it had been longer than that. He let her finish her meandering non-point, at least. Aurelie couldn't decide if that was for the best, but it was nice of him at least.

She was surprised to hear him say he liked it, after all of that. Her eyebrows went up before she could think to hold them down. "You did? I'm, ah... I'm glad." Glad wasn't the right word, but Aurelie could think of no better for the complicated mass of things she felt hearing him say so. "I don't think it's, ah. Too much." Her mouth twitched into something that might have been a smile if she weren't so otherwise concerned.

Aurelie hesitated, her fingers still curled on the arm of the chair. There was something she should do or say here, she thought. She could feel the shape of it, but not well enough to figure out what it was. It might have been the question Aremu asked, but she thought it was actually the way he held out his hand after. She took that with no hesitation at all; it came close to answering a question she hadn't quite been able to ask.

"Well," she said as she came to stand closer, curling her fingers in Aremu's. She was momentarily distracted, thinking about his hand on her back, the shape of each knuckle. "I, er. I think my answer has, ah, changed. Depending on—" She frowned, thoughtful, and looked towards the kitchen before she sat again gingerly.

Somehow looking into his face made it harder for her to say what she'd been thinking about the most lately. It felt very silly, picturing herself saying it out loud. What did she know of it, anyway? Nothing at all. But he had asked, and she wanted to answer. It seemed only fair, even if nothing she had to say was particularly interesting.

"Lately," she began, "I... Er, well, I keep coming back to thinking it's a-about, ah. Love. I suppose that's, er, rather obvious, but. The pain of... of the process of bit by bit, coming apart as you... become known. And loved. And how it changes you even if... if it ends. Ah. I suppose."

That all felt stupid even as she said it. But she kept hold of his hand, and if he wanted her any closer she would. Hard as it was for her to believe it would be of any use or comfort at all, she wanted to.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 29 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aurelie took his hand. Aremu found he hadn’t quite doubted she would, though he had been scared she wouldn’t all the same. Up until the moment of it, some small part of him whispered he had overreached, and he didn’t know if it was her whom he thought should hesitate, or himself.

She rose, and she came closer and sat again, in the chair just next to him. No, Aremu wanted to say, his eyes searching her face, don’t - not so far away. Their legs just barely brushed, left a hairs breadth apart with them turning to face each other. It seemed like the length of the Tincta Basta, just then; oddly, it almost hurt to have her so close and yet not closer.

Aremu listened; he breathed in each word as she exhaled them, following her along it. His face twitched at a smile, then grew solemn, and his eyes never left her.

It was, he thought, a harsh and painful view of love, pragmatic and real. It was very Aurelie, and he ached a little bit to know it. It wasn’t that he thought love should have been easy for her, but he was sorry, all the same, to know she knew the ache of it, even if it didn’t surprise him. Even if it ends, he thought, and he was sorrier still.

Aremu thought again of the toy’s description of it, of becoming real. Being loved, being known, like the taking apart of one’s joints, the shabby wearing down of one’s skin. No one fragile or with sharp edges, he thought, aching so badly he almost thought he would come to tears again. He didn’t, not this time; it didn’t get so far.

“Do you think it changes you so?” He asked, quietly. “Being loved - and loving too? - that it makes you what the story calls real?”

His thumb stroked softly over her hand. Come here, he wanted to say, even conscious of distant shouting in the fields, of Ahura and Efere in the kitchen. He could hear the clatter of bowls and silverware on trays; he didn’t think they had much longer. He didn’t want to embarrass her, and he thought she would be embarrassed, to be caught so; he could almost picture the blush, and the anxious worry on her face.

With all he had asked of her so far - he couldn’t ask this too, Aremu thought, aching, not quite. It would be selfish to embarrass her for the sake of his comfort, to take the comfort of her in his arms at her own expense. Even if she would agree, he knew it selfish; he knew himself selfish to even think of it.

She deserves better, Aremu told himself. You can at least try.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

29 Hamis, 2720 - Morning | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aurelie didn't think she was explaining herself very well. No, she knew she wasn't, because he looked so serious listening to her talk. Almost, she thought she'd seen the beginning of some kind of smile—it dropped away almost as soon as she had seen it. Aurelie was torn between being oddly pleased he should listen to her nonsense so intently, and sorry that he was.

Don't take it seriously, she wanted to beg. What do I know? Surely you can tell. Surely it was written on her face, in the alignment of all of her features and the way she held herself, that she knew very little indeed. Aurelie looked down at their hands, embarrassed to have said so much and communicated nothing at all. She didn't even know why she'd started; all she wanted was for Aremu to feel better. Rambling on this way was having no such effect.

She looked up again though, surprised, when he asked that quiet question. She shifted her weight, feeling absurd about the tiny bit of space she'd left. She didn't even know why she'd done so. Just some silly lingering feeling, she supposed. The shadow of a red wall falling across her face, filling the space between them on the chair.

Reasonably, Aurelie thought being rid of it all in a week was expecting too much of herself. Reason held very little sway over her, it seemed. The idea of being seen (she tried not to think "caught") even this close filled her with a twisting kind of dread; that, in turn, made her ashamed for thinking so. She couldn't even seem to resolve which was stronger.

"Do you not?" Aurelie swallowed, her attention focused on Aremu's solemn face, close but not close enough. She tried—she tried very hard—not to think about the voices from outside or the clattering of dishes in the kitchen. Aurelie chewed on her lip, thoughtful. "I-if you're left just as you were before... w-was it even...? It's the only thing that can, isn't it? Love, I mean. I, ah. Well. I supposed I don't really... hmm."

Whichever feeling was stronger, the shame or the dread, neither were ones she wanted and neither had to be indulged. Not completely. There wasn't really all that much extra space in the chair, anyway. She could close at least that much distance. She wanted to. Wanted very badly for that to feel easier than it did, too. Carefully, she leaned just a little closer. Her weight settled more against him.

"I suppose my expertise on the subject is, ah, lacking anyway. But that's what I, er. That's what I think." She smiled, a crooked little thing. Her fingers pressed gently against Aremu's hand. Aurelie remembered telling him more than once that if you couldn't eat it, she didn't know much about it. Well, here was further evidence, if he had ever doubted that was true before.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 29 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Do you not? Auelie asked him.

Yes, Aremu wanted to say, I do. He didn’t; he had again the feeling that it would be a mistake to interrupt her. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand; he was learning the shape of it now, the slim bones, the scars and all the places that were Aurelie’s and Aurelie’s alone, that made the hand uniquely hers.

She went straight to the heart of it, and then pulled back away. Aremu grimaced; he felt it all across his face, and he nodded almost without thinking of it. “You sound like you know to me,” Aremu said; another frown twitched across his face, and he looked down at their hands as she pressed her fingers to his. She came a little closer, just a little, just close enough that he felt the brush of her thigh against his, and he held still, holding he hand close, scared that to move too quickly would be to frighten her off.

“I think you’re right,” Aremu went on, more directly. “About, um, love, at least. It’s uh… it’s the root of so much of what we feel, isn’t it? Hatred, shame, guilt, fear, sorrow,” his face twitched, a faint attempt at a smile, “joy. They don’t only come out of love but they’re made so much stronger by it.” He swallowed, his throat moving just a little.

“It’s the opening up that hurts, I think,” Aremu said, softly. “It’s the accepting that you’ll be changed, and the letting go of how.” He looked back down at their intertwined hands once more. He didn’t feel on the verge of tears any longer, but he felt the heaviness of it aching in his chest, and all through him.

There was the sound of footsteps from the kitchen.

Aremu took their hands up to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to Aurelie’s knuckles. He didn’t know what he wanted to say by it; he couldn’t have put into words just then. Thank you, perhaps, at least in part; I’m sorry, too, he thought, at least a tinge of it.

He didn’t want to let go of her hand, but he did anyway as Ahura and Efere came in, looking at her almost longingly a last moment.

“I make uqikedisiq,” Ahura said firmly. Efere, trailing behind her, was carrying his own tray. He set it down at one of the chairs. “Rice and milk,” she told Aurelie, smiling at her. “With,” she added a few words in Mugrobi.

“Cashew,” Aremu said, in Estuan first and then, with a little smile for Aurelie, in Mugrobi.

Ahura was setting the bowls out, and small cups of kofi as well, with just a pinch of menda stirred in.

“Peppercorns,” Aremu translated next, smiling, again in Estuan first and Mugrobi as well. He touched the edge of a dark green leaf, still firm, with his fingertip, showing Aurelie. “Curry leaf.”

Small bowls of Ahura’s chutneys were laid alongside it, tomato, mint and coconut; today, Aremu noticed, he didn’t have slender red chilis floating in his either. He supposed Ahura judged him too ill for spice; it was, he thought, rather a damning condemnation of his overall state. They each had tamoqap too, thick with tomatoes and herbs, with small pearl onions amidst the broth.

“This much sugar,” Ahura was telling Aurelie, the tips of her fingers pinched close together. “Next time you make,” she grinned at her.

Efere tucked in hungrily to his food, eating with his hand; he ate with his usual enthusiasm, not in the least quiet about it. Aremu turned his uqikedisiq over as well, spooning the tamoqap and chutneys on to it, and beginning to mix. Aurelie, rather ostentatiously, had a small spoon laid beside her plate. Ahura was lingering, watching Aremu with an intent look, although she spared a smile and a waiting glance for Aurelie as well.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

29 Hamis, 2720 - Morning | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

That I sound so is just a very good imitation then, she thought but didn't say. She didn't want to talk about that, now, in this sunny room with his headache and her having already rambled on about so much. There was simply no point; it was true, and that it was true didn't matter.

How could she possibly be right? And what had made her think she should say any of it? She supposed Aremu had asked. There was something heavy about being told so, a stone in her pocket. She smiled anyway, for lack of anything better to do with her face, and she nodded. Again, she couldn't seem to interrupt. No matter that she didn't think she knew how to have this conversation here, now.

"It's one thing that does." That hurts, she didn't bother to clarify. She'd not even meant to say it at all, it just slipped out quietly when she'd thought of stones, and of the way his thumb traced over the back of her hand, over and over.

She was almost grateful to hear footsteps from the kitchen. Only almost; she knew she'd ease away and let go, and she didn't really want to. She couldn't seem to stop herself, not even when a flustered smile broke out over her face. She was standing again by the time Ahura came in, Efere not far behind.

Food would settle them both, Aurelie thought. Food and kofi both; they hadn't yet had either, and Aurelie didn't think that was helping matters much. She should have picked a brighter story to tell before breakfast. Next time—well. If there were a next time, she supposed she knew better now. She didn't regret telling it, precisely, nor the sort of strange conversation after. Just... she hadn't meant for it, either.

Aurelie looked over at Aremu when he translated for her, and smiled back without even meaning to. "Cashew," she repeated the word in what she knew to be a rather terrible approximation of the word in Mugrobi. She felt a little flustered, hearing herself mangle the word, but it was nice too. She did want to know, and she didn't think there was any way around the mangling stage. Her face warmed underneath her freckles, but she repeated each one rather dutifully.

None of it looked as if it were as spicy as usual; that seemed rather wise. She was adjusting to it herself, and even finding she liked it, but... Well, Aremu had been rather ill. More than once. Ahura hadn't been there, but Aurelie had no doubt she knew anyway.

"Thank you. I would be happy to," she said, warmly and sincerely. It was actually quite remarkably similar to what they made for the sick at home—if without the other additions, and a bit thinner. Mostly she had just had and made quite a lot of broth and toast. There was something pleasant about the overlap, like she wasn't so out of place after all. Even though she was. The stew, she thought as she turned to watch Aremu, wasn't quite the same as mutton broth and a bit of toast.

She did hope Aremu would be all right; she thought so, but she couldn't have said why. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to eat herself right away. Not until she was certain, no matter how hungry she was herself. She watched expectantly, a trace of concern in her brow. Once she was satisfied Aremu was eating, she would turn back to her own food with the same diligent enthusiasm she always applied. If a bit quieter than Efere, at least.

Food, she thought to herself firmly, solved a great majority of problems. Even when she turned back, she kept part of her attention on Aremu. Just in case.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 29 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aremu found he was hungry, at first; the first few bites were a joy, and the kofi eased his headache a bit. He thought he could have eaten the whole bowl, and he set to it.

Then – he couldn’t have quite said when – his stomach began to ache, and nausea crept up through him, and the pounding in his head was worse once more. He had finished the kofi, at least, and the water that Ahura had brought out for him, but the bowl of uqikedisiq sat before him, and Aremu sat looking down at it for a long moment, and then slowly set it off to the side.

Aremu looked up, and found Ahura’s gaze sharp on him. “It’s too much for me just now,” he said in Mugrobi.

Ahura nodded, and did not look in the least reassured.

The one thing that hurts, Aremu wanted to say, looking across the room at Aurelie. She was eating hungrily. He didn’t know what to say beyond that; there hadn’t been time to answer her when she was sitting beside him, her hand in his, speaking of love. You asked, Aremu told himself. He didn’t know – he couldn’t imagine – whom she was thinking of. Her parents, he thought, her sister. And?

Maybe all the rest of the pain was rooted in the opening, Aremu thought. If you didn’t open – if you held yourself closed – you wouldn’t be hurt, and at the same time there was nothing else to feel. He wished he knew the knack of it all the same; he had learned to keep himself apart, physically, and so to avoid it that way, such as he could. It hadn’t always worked and he couldn’t be sorry for it; all the pain he’d felt at thinking Tom dead, and all the strangeness since, and he couldn’t be sorry for any of it.

And now –

Aremu thought if he got up he would be sick, and so he stayed sitting a little while. Ahura took the bowl and all the rest from him, leaving only the ginger-flavored water. Aremu sipped at that, at least, although slowly.

He didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until he woke up once more, to Aurelie looking at him very intently. The next thing he knew, Aremu had agreed to go and sleep in her room for a little bit, and he was climbing the stairs carefully, one step at a time.

Ahura – he didn’t know when – had fetched down his tooth cleaning supplies, for which he was grateful. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom near Aurelie’s room, and then made his way back to her bed, still unmade. He wouldn’t have called it lying down so much as crumpling back into the sheets.

He hadn’t thought he would sleep, but he did; he had nothing to remember of his cheek touching the pillow, and nothing to remember of what would come afterwards.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

29 Hamis, 2720 - Morning | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

The problem with food as a solution to problems was that sometimes the problem was that one couldn't actually eat much of anything. Aurelie had relaxed when Aremu started to eat, at least a fraction. Things couldn't be so poorly off if he was, after all. She didn't turn to look directly when he stopped, but she did frown into her own breakfast. She didn't want to make too much of a spectacle of it in front of Efere. It would only frighten him, and to no purpose.

Besides, Ahura was there as well, and her sharp look seemed sufficient to Aurelie. Whatever Aremu said to her in Mugrobi that Aurelie couldn't follow seemed not to have been particularly reassuring. Aurelie had the strong sense that it likely boiled down to "I'm fine". Perhaps a few more words than that, but she was almost certain that was the sentiment. It had been over a week now that she'd been here; there was, again, no version of the word "fine" she was familiar with that also corresponded to Aremu Ediwo eating less than what was put before him.

Aurelie finished her own food, and collected her dishes to bring to the kitchen and wash. She decided to keep her concern to herself; she certainly didn't think she did a very good job, the way she looked back over her shoulder more than once. The expression on Ahura's face when she glanced away from her washing up rather confirmed it.

By the time she got back, Aremu had fallen asleep again. The sound of her approach must have woken him, or else he felt her eyes on his face. She was, admittedly, frowning rather intensely. She had meant to sit nearby and just keep an eye on him, but now that he was awake...

"Perhaps you should go back upstairs and sleep more...? I can't imagine that's very comfortable." The suggestion was gentle, accompanied by the lightest brush of her hand against his shoulder. Likely he hadn't even noticed she had done it; he seemed completely exhausted. "You can—my room is closer." And perhaps cooler, she thought, reflecting on the heat of the attic and his bedroom below it, even at this time of day. To her surprised he agreed. If there had been any protest, she hadn't been able to understand it through his drowsiness and she wouldn't have listened anyway.

As he climbed the steps, she stood a little distance away and watched. Each step was taken slowly and carefully, but he didn't stumble or fall. Good. That was good enough, for now. What she wanted to do most of all was follow him all the way upstairs and stay nearby, just in case something happened. But even she knew that was neither necessary nor helpful, when what he likely needed most of all right now was more sleep.

Now, she needed to keep herself distracted. So she wasn't tempted to go check on him, over and over again. There was still all the tidying up from yesterday to do; that seemed a ready enough distraction. Somehow, she didn't think reading could keep her attention right now, nor embroidery either. What she needed was work. Aurelie had been prepared to do it all on her own, considering she was the only one awake who had made the mess in the first place. Ahura helped her anyway, and Aurelie was glad. The chatter was distracting too, in a different way from the work that occupied her hands.

Some time after that, the room had been set to rights again—sand swept out, fabrics either shaken out or stripped for washing and replaced with some other cover. By then Efere was restless, and Aurelie was only too happy to entertain him while Ahura went about her other work.

They sat on the floor and he explained to her a game played with jacks and a rather large marble of his own invention. The rules seemed rather convoluted to her, but she did her best to absorb them all. They played so many rounds of it Aurelie lost track; whatever the rules might have been, they always seemed to result in him winning. She might have suspected him of cheating, but considering she didn't actually know how one won the game at all, she couldn't be sure. He seemed not the kind to cheat, anyway. And she might have thrown a game or two, as best she could figure out how. All of it seemed to her worth it for the pleased look on his small dark face, all chubby-cheeked with baby fat, every time he declared his victory.

He followed her into the kitchen to sit at the table while she and Ahura made lunch together. His legs dangled off the side of the chair as he carried on in his bright voice about—fish, Aurelie thought. The story took some twists and turns, but most of it was about seeing various kinds of fish.

Volunteering to take a tray upstairs to Aremu, to see if he would eat something more now, earned her both another look and a pat on the arm from Ahura that turned her absolutely scarlet. That helped matters not at all. She did it anyway; the problem with just being Looked at, with no additional commentary, was that she had nothing to protest. And, Aurelie reflected sheepishly, she didn't think anything said would be far off the mark anyway. Subtlety was not her strongest of qualities.

"Aremu?" Aurelie called softly, knocking gently on the door. Just in case he was already awake; she would hate to startle him or walk in when she shouldn't. Hearing no reply, she judged him still asleep and opened the door. If she couldn't wake him, she would take the tray back downstairs and bring it up again later.

She had made some egg wine, in case... Well, it just seemed to be the thing to do. There was ginger in addition to the nutmeg, and a bit of pepper too—all Ahura's additions. She wasn't sure it was going to be quite the same, but then again, it was a restorative. So all of these things were likely good, and with the broth and idlis that Ahura had prepared, it seemed to her a good sort of spread for an invalid.

When she entered, not only was Aremu still asleep, he was sprawled out on the bed. Rather like he had just fallen over and not bothered to move much after that. Which, she reflected, she wouldn't be surprised to hear was the case. For a moment she stood in the doorway, a mix of fondness and worry washing over her. Foolish girl, she thought to herself, and knew there was nothing to be done for it.

Aremu stirred when she set the tray down on the bedside table. She smiled at him, despite the crease between her eyebrows. Her hand reached out and ran over his brow seemingly without her asking it to. "Aremu? I brought, ah, lunch. If you're up for it." She let her hand linger there a moment longer, Aurelie bent over him on the bed. Hovering, she thought grimly, just as she had promised herself she wouldn't do.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Lunch time, 29 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aremu woke to a tapping sound. For a moment he didn’t know where he was; for the briefest half second he thought himself shipside, awoken by the noises of the pipes or some other sudden movement. For a moment, he thought to find two hands tangled in his sheets in the Eqe Aqawe, to hear Uzoji’s voice raised in the hallway outside.

Then he knew better.

He didn’t think he had dreamt. He didn’t know; he didn’t want to remember it, if he had.

It was Aurelie’s room, he realized, a little groggily. He didn’t remember deciding to sleep here; he scarcely remembered climbing the stairs. She was looking at him worriedly, but not angry or fearful, and so he hoped it had been at her suggestion. He thought so; it seemed the sort of thing she would suggest. He felt guilty for it, for taking her room; he hoped he had argued, at least. Somehow, looking at her small set face, he wasn’t sure he had.

Her fingers skimmed over his brow, as if she were checking him for fever, and lingered just a little. Aremu smiled, the slightest flicker of it. His head still ached, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. He eased himself upright against the headboard with a grunt, breathing in deeply and settling back.

Is it lunch time already, Aremu wanted to ask. He rubbed his face with his hand, tired, his throat dry and aching. Glancing at the window and he knew it was; he had slept every bit of the morning, and he felt as if he could have had more. He took a deep breath, still orienting himself a little, feeling half as if he were still asleep.

He looked done at the tray; there was a cup of something, there, and idlis and broth. His stomach felt oddly unsettled still, and he was not, really, very hungry at all.

“Sit with me?” Aremu asked quietly. The lingering dregs of sorrow ached in him, and though he knew he should banish them alone, he was so very tired. He smiled at her, softly.

“You look so worried,” Aremu reached up and cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb tracing already familiar strokes over it, settling easily into the motion. As if, he thought, pretending to comfort her instead of himself made it all right. He knew better, and yet he had done it anyway; he knew better, and yet he didn’t stop.

“Do I look so bad as that?” Aremu asked, almost playful, smiling a little and looking at her. His voice was scratchy and dry in his throat; he had cleared it, as best as he could, but it hadn’t made the difference he had hoped.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 29, 2720 - Lunchtime | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aurelie withdrew her hand when Aremu moved to sit upright, back against the headboard. She felt a bit guilty for waking him, though she thought he needed to eat, too. He'd had so little earlier, she wasn't sure... Most of this was, at least, liquid. The egg wine she knew was a bit better on the stomach when cool, but deeply unpleasant to drink.

"Of course," she smiled, the worry clinging to the corners of her mouth. She sat next to him on the bed, closer than she had been downstairs. It was easier here; Aurelie felt sorry that it was so, but it was. Maybe someday—but no, she shouldn't think that way. She couldn't... play house here forever, surely. The idea wasn't in the least unpleasant, but she knew better.

"I am worried." Her voice was quiet, in deference to his headache, but her tone matter-of-fact. She was very worried, actually. She raised her eyebrows, tilting her cheek a little into his hand. She thought of saying yes, he did look "so bad as that". Well, more accurately he looked as if he were quite unwell. She knew what he meant, and she could even appreciate the attempt at a joke. "Bad" was, perhaps, the wrong word entirely. "Not bad. I mean, ah."

Aurelie cleared her own throat, now. "You look as if you were hit rather hard on the head, lost a concerning quantity of blood, and then had to swim back to shore and walk up to the house with me. All of this just yesterday." The words were scolding, but she smiled at him and put her hand over the back of his. "And you sound like it, too. Of course I'm worried about you."

She didn't bother to point out that he had slept through to the afternoon, and likely would have carried on sleeping if she hadn't come in. Her worry was probably too much. She simply couldn't stop herself, any more than she could stop herself from taking his hand every time it was offered to her. Or from making everything worse by telling the wrong sort of story. She still felt sorry for that; she hadn't meant it to upset him so much. The selfish part of her was glad it had struck him enough to be upsetting, that also found it as sad and painful as she found it wonderful; she did her best to ignore it.

"I made egg wine," she offered hopefully. "If you'll have it. It's, ah, best when it's still warm." It was the only thing she could think of to make. There was no making toast here, of course. Egg wine, at least, was something she could do. She thought it was nice, when she was sick. Aurelie was sick enough to need careful treatment only very rarely, so she had only had it a few times, but she did like it. It was a little strange, but she liked it.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say, and she didn't know what part of it she would be apologizing for. For telling the story of the Velveteen Rabbit, again? For being so stiff after? For rambling on about subjects that she really knew nothing about? All of them, and none of them. She sat back on the bed next to him, leaning lightly into his side. Selfish—but she felt better doing so.