It’s raining outside, the air is crisp and cold. Arina has made sure that her restaurant is always comfortably warm. She’s glad for that now. Hopefully, it’s making Lin more comfortable.
He’s in her restaurant right now, she had taken him to her room after he had shown up soaked to the bone. He was sobbing at her door so she rushed him inside. They’ve been sitting in her room for a while attempting to calm him down.
“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” She keeps her voice low and calm, a mere whisper against the wind and rain.
Lin curls into her and mumbles something unintelligible. She hums and asks him to repeat himself.
“I just don’t understand. Why is this, this?” Even if she hears him clearly she still doesn’t quite understand what he’s saying.
“I don’t know what you mean, talk to me. I want to help.” She aches for him. He shouldn’t have to feel like he does, she wants to help him so badly.
“I just don’t understand why this is so perfect. Why couldn't it have been like this before?” He sounds so broken, like he’s been beat down one too many times. He probably has been.
She doesn’t know how to respond but she tries her best. “I don’t know, I’m sorry dear. But things are perfect now, isn’t that what it’s about? Being here is like this for everyone.” She doesn’t know if that was entirely coherent, but hopefully it’s helping.
He brings in a shaky breath trying to speak. He fails and sobs instead. She doesn’t know what else she can do so she just tightens her arms around him.
The hour he has already spent crying shows its effects in the way his throat protests every sob, his breathing sounding asthmatic. She doesn’t even register his shaking anymore, it’s been bad since he showed up.
She sits for another hour waiting for him to calm down again. Occasionally she coos at him or hums, it calms him down more when he gets himself worked up again. It’s sad.
Nobody else gets to see this. He’s always sequestered up in his barn, alone. He pretends he’s fine until he breaks down completely. And she was the first place he went. It would almost be flattering if she didn’t know how other people made him ache sometimes.
He gets snappy with other people, he’s always homesick for a place he’s never been. Every person here and every word that comes out of their mouth just reminds him of it. It hurts him to see people and be hit with the realization that he’ll never be home.
And she’ll never be home, but she likes to think that she’s close enough to soothe him. Just a little bit of tension off of his shoulders, just a few tears down his face.
Just a little bit of a nap.
She gently slides him onto the bed when his breathing slows. She tucks him into the blankets and runs her hand through his hair. She looks at him and sees how tired he is, like he’s never truly rested.
With this in mind, she slides herself down to the floor and slips her hand into his. She settles into her spot up against the bed and resigns herself to a night of sitting in an awkward position.
The odd angle she has to hold her arm in, halfway above her head and behind her, is worth it. She just has to be kind.
She has no problem with that.