[ When Onni cries harder, Reynir feels that change, and he worries that he's said something wrong, set his foot on a sore place without even knowing it. This is a new kind of helplessness, for Reynir. Back in his village, he'd had a reputation as someone who could cheer just about anybody up. The grouchiest elders, the most sulky preteens - Reynir could usually coax a smile from them no matter how dire the circumstance.

But it isn't that easy, with Onni. Partly because Reynir's too invested, cares about him too much. And partly because Onni's hurt runs so deep and has gone unaddressed for so long... ]

No. [ He says it simply, quietly, with conviction. ] I'm not. You've just been so starved for kindness, a little feels like a lot.

[ Reynir rubs a hand up and down Onni's back, rocking them both slightly. At another time he might feel self-conscious or silly about it, but his gut is telling him it'll help, that it's the right thing to do.

Quietly, he goes on: ]

I'm not just saying that stuff in the abstract, you know? I mean it, for me. You're easy for me to care about. I like being around you.

[ Onni is still tense and miserable and Reynir can just feel it. He knows that his words haven't sunk all the way in, that Onni's mind is doubtless coming up with a thousand contradictions and excuses and reasons not to hear them. Because that self-hatred is there, blinding him, covering his eyes and ears, shutting out anything that might convince Onni of his own worth. ]

I really wish... there were something I could do to help you try to forgive yourself.