[catch-all] this is way beyond my remote concern of being condescending

[scowlish]

Who: Onni Hotakainen and whoever.
What: catch-all for assorted threads
When: late december, january
Where: around anchor
Warnings: none likely, tba in subject lines if needed

[Starters in comments.]

Comments

[scowlish]

[The moment Reynir mentions that he's brought some of the strawberry plants, Onni perks up a little, and when the Icelander points out the plants, he picks up one of the pots they'd brought - a long rectangular one - and picks out the plants. Eyes down on the pot, he layers in some soil and then starts carefully lifting them and planting them in a row, with enough space between them to grow.

Glancing up at Reynir, he sees the redhead smiling at him, bright and happy. Honestly, Onni isn't entirely sure why. He knows he's depressing to be around, that he's been miserable and lost in thought lately, morose and going over the multitude of things he's learned about himself and Lalli and his life to date.

Though he hasn't been too lost in thought to notice that Reynir has been making a point of doing the chores Onni likes least. He's noticed that Reynir has been doing it without complaint, without pointing out his generosity. It isn't difficult to work out that he's been doing it because Onni has been struggling with his mood and his energy, and Onni isn't sure whether to be grateful or embarrassed about it.]

Mm, I'm not sure if I'm any better at decorating than you are, but I'll give it a try.

[For a moment, he keeps his head down, and then he glances up at Reynir again.]

You've been doing the dishes for me.

[braidmage]

Trust me, you couldn't possibly be worse.

[ Okay, so maybe Reynir is exaggerating a little in his enthusiasm, but all the same - arranging things artfully, if they aren't lines within a rune, really isn't his strong suit. And it is something he's trying to do more, lately. Coax Onni into seeing just how many things he is good at and capable of. Reynir knows that helping Onni's self-esteem is a battle to be fought on many fronts at once, and this is only one of them.

He plucks up another plant - one with long and trailing vines - and starts the process of repotting it, even as they are talking. When Onni points out he's been doing the dishes, Reynir doesn't play dumb or try to deny it. He gives a rolling sort of a shrug, settling the vine into its new home and patting down the soil. ]

I like doing the dishes.

[ Which is the truth, no exaggeration: Reynir can think of a few dozen chores he had dreaded more around his parents's farm, but dishes were such a small way of making order out of chaos, of feeling useful in a way that was easy.

But that's not the only reason, and so he goes on: ]

And I know you hate them. And I like doing things for you.

[ He's not sure he ought to be admitting that, but it's the truth, and there's no shame in his voice as he says it. ]

[scowlish]

[Onni snorts at that assumption but doesn't really say anything else about it, just focuses on carefully planting the strawberries and then watering them a little before setting the pot aside and picking out the next one. It's some kind of small succulent plant they'd found growing under some trees in a dry part of the agricultural area, and he's interested in seeing how they grow when potted and cared for.

When Reynir says he likes doing the dishes, Onni glances up at him again, makes a little 'hm' in his throat. It's a touch disbelieving, though he doesn't necessarily think Reynir is lying about it. He just can't really comprehend how someone could like washing dishes. It's a foreign concept he can't grasp, and he's been quite relieved that Reynir has been doing them for him.

The more important part of the answer comes a moment later, when Reynir says he knows he hates doing them and likes doing things for him. There's a strange little twist in his belly at that, and he looks back down at the plant, gently pressing a thumb into the soil around the bottom-most leaves to lightly pack it down.]

I thought that might be the case.

[For a moment, he holds himself back from asking if he really seems like he's that bad off, mentally. It's not really worth saying, since he knows that he probably does come across as that badly off...and maybe he actually is.]

It's considerate of you.

[That much is genuine, and for some reason Onni finds himself remembering how it had felt when Reynir tickled him just to hear him laugh, while they'd been high on those brownies. He isn't sure if that had been considerate or not, but there was something nice about Reynir saying he likes to hear him laugh.]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir glances over at Onni. He is speaking in such a careful way, like there is more to say but he isn't saying it. Reynir can't guess at what he's holding back. All he can do is be patient and try to coax it out, and hope for the best. By now he knows that communicating doesn't come easily to Onni. He doesn't mind, if it is a little extra work. It's well worth it in the end. ]

Considerate just sounds so... I don't know.

[ He wrinkles his nose, giving a little shake of his head, rejecting that particular word and suggesting: ]

That makes me sound all dutiful and mature, when really... the truth is it just makes me happy, when I can make things a little nicer for you.

[ Reynir presents this correction like it is an important one - and he believes it is. Onni shouldn't think for a moment that Reynir is just performing some obligation he has set for himself. It isn't like that to him.

He sets aside that repotted vine, draping it carefully. It is going to thrive, he thinks. He has a good feeling about that one.

Reynir raises his bright green eyes, meeting Onni's gaze and saying: ]

You don't mind, do you? I know... sometimes I try to help too much. I can get annoying. I know that.

[scowlish]

[Communicating had never really come easy for Onni, even as a child. He's always struggled with finding words for the things that are going on in his mind, the things he's feeling. Even if he could, finding the wherewithal to actually do so would probably be just as difficult. In this case, though, he isn't even entirely sure what conclusion his mind is trying to draw from the combination of recent experiences and things he's been feeling, let alone how to talk about it. He isn't even entirely sure why he's asking Reynir about the chores he's been doing to spare Onni.

When Reynir says that the word considerate makes him sound dutiful and mature, but that the truth is that it makes him happy to make things easier for him, Onni makes a soft 'hm' in his throat, puts the pot he's holding aside. He lifts his gaze just in time for his eyes to catch Reynir's, and finds himself mildly uncomfortable, to hold eye contact in this mindset, but he doesn't look away.]

That isn't what I meant by it. Just that it seemed like you were going out of your way to make things easier for me.

[When Reynir asks if he minds, Onni shakes his head.]

No. I appreciated it.

[It's a bit of an understatement. Onni really can't remember the last time someone took on extra chores to make his life easier, or even noticed when he was struggling enough to need such a thing. For a moment, he's quiet, idly picking bits of soil off the knee of his pants, mouth pursed.]

Do I seem like I'm doing poorly enough to need that?

[braidmage]

[ Reynir doesn't answer him right away. It would be easy to just say no, that Onni seems like he's doing great and he's awesome and needs no help from anybody. Reynir is good at that kind of encouraging and cheering-up. But he is sure, in an instinctive but profound way, that that isn't what Onni needs right now. He needs more truth, less bolstering. So Reynir thinks a moment and then shrugs: ]

Sort of yes, sort of no.

[ Reynir selects not another pot, but a tall, cylindrical glass vase, and starts to fill the bottom with small stones, to sit under the soil for some bulbs that he had brought back, that will bloom soon, give a bit of color during the cold. He speaks as his hands work: ]

Me liking helping you out and trying to do nice things for you isn't because I think you aren't keeping up or whatever. I would still love it, no matter how you were doing, because - it's not about making up for some lack, it's just- it's just because I want to make you happy.

[ He feels a little self-conscious, admitting that. Admitting how much it means to him, to be a part of Onni's life, something giving him joy. Put in plain language like that, Reynir can't help worrying that it is pathetic or clingy or who knows what. But it's the truth. And he doesn't want Onni having the mistaken impression that him helping out is some kind of commentary on his failings. ]

But... I can tell. That things aren't so great, lately. I - haven't brought it up much because I was worried I would sound like I was criticizing, but. I just want you to know that I know. And. It matters to me. A lot. You matter to me a lot, Onni.

[ Reynir looks up, then, meeting Onni's eyes again before he asks, softly: ]

You know that, right?

[scowlish]

[The hesitation is almost palpable, and Onni continues to fidget a little bit. He's never been good at talking about his feelings this way, and he's not used to hearing about other people's either, particularly not in relation to him. When Reynir says 'sort of yes, sort of no' like that, his mouth tightens a little. It isn't quite a flinch, but it feels like it, and he sighs deeply, nods a bit to acknowledge it.

He understands that the way he's been struggling lately is obvious, that he's been sleeping twice as much as he had when they first arrived and he'd been running on fear, before his fights with Lalli. He knows that he's been slower to wake up and get moving in the mornings, that he's been quieter than usual. But it's difficult, to hear it from someone else, to have it put plainly like that.

But Reynir asserts that he isn't helping because he thinks Onni isn't capable, but that he wants to make him happy. That he was worried about bringing up Onni's struggles because he was worried it would sound like criticism - that catches Onni off-guard, and his chin lifts, his eyes widening a little as he looks over at Reynir. But before he can say anything, Reynir is continuing on, saying that it matters to him that Onni is struggling. That Onni matters a lot to him, asks him if he knows it.

For a moment, Onni is quiet, and then he leans down to pick up a larger pot so he can start moving a massive plant that looks like it's sprouting spiders on long strings into it, his head down and his mouth set in a straight line.]

I'm a little surprised you thought I'd take your concern for criticism. We've been here together a long time now, and I feel like we've come to know each other. You've seen me...

[He trails off for a moment, digging his fingers into the soil he's placed in the bottom of the big pot, trying to think of how to word what he's about to say.]

You've seen me at my worst, but you still care. I feel like we're...closer. You can talk to me about that kind of thing, it doesn't bother me anymore, even if I'm...awkward about it.

[Lifting his head, he meets Reynir's eyes and holds contact while he speaks again.]

I think...if you hadn't been here and done what you did, I don't know what would have happened to me.

[Vaguely, he gestures at himself with a hand, vaguely in the area of his chest, the fingertips dark with soil.]

Inside me. You know?

[It's a lot to say, and Onni feels a sort of warm churning in his chest as he says it. Fondness. Trust. Closeness. Suddenly he remembers Reynir's mouth against his, his lips parted and his tongue darting out against his lips. Reynir's face tucked into his neck, his lips pressing against the line of tendon. Thinking about it feels uncomfortable and exciting and good all at once.]

[braidmage]

We are closer. And I know I can talk to you, I just... I know how hard you are on yourself, also.

[ He pronounces it gently, but without softening the meaning at all. Onni's recent depression isn't the only thing that Reynir has noticed after all. He has come to know Onni better, and part of that is realizing the absurdly high standard he holds himself to. Besides, Reynir knows that Onni has a complicated relationship with the idea of his own weakness, or vulnerability. Poking at that had felt... risky.

So he doesn't underestimate the hugeness of it, when Onni admits he doesn't know what would've happened if he'd gone through what he's been through lately without Reynir. He feels his cheeks growing hot, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For once, Reynir is struck silent, but his happiness at what Onni said is unmistakable.

And so he shifts closer, scooting near to where Onni is sitting on the floor. His hands are still busy with the repotting, and Onni's are, too. But for a moment Reynir leans over and just... rests his head against Onni's shoulder. It is an impulsive, wordless gesture of affection, almost cat-like in a way, and then Reynir is sitting up straight once more.

But he doesn't move away. ]

I'm glad. That you... that you've trusted me, and let me help you. That makes me happy, too.

[ Then, because he had told Onni so clearly how important it is to tell people how much they mean to you, even when it's difficult, even when you're worried what they will say or uncertain what words to use, Reynir adds: ]

I'm closer to you than I am to anybody else. Not just in this place, either. You're... you're my best friend, Onni.

[scowlish]

[While Reynir talks, Onni keeps his eyes on the pot of soil in front of him, digging fingers into it to make a basin for the thick dirt-clumped roots of the plant they'd brought down for this pot. Reynir says that he knows how hard on himself Onni is, familiar and gentle but without dancing around the point, and Onni appreciates that, appreciates the directness of it.

When he admits that he'd needed Reynir over the past while, he can practically feel the way Reynir beams at it, and glances over at him to see it. The redhead is trying not to smile, his cheeks red, looking impossibly pleased with himself. For a moment, Onni feels awkward about it, unused to admitting that kind of thing, making himself so vulnerable and open, and seeing that kind of reaction. But then Reynir scoots closer to him, presses his head into Onni's shoulder, and Onni finds himself pressing his cheek against the crown of Reynir's head, feels the slight pull of thick red hair against the hint of stubble that's growing in. Feels a strange dropping feeling in his stomach that he tries to ignore as Reynir sits back up and then says he's glad that Onni has trusted him and let him help him. That it makes him happy.

This is completely unfamiliar ground, for Onni. He can't remember the last time someone wanted him to be vulnerable, rather than strong and composed, something solid to anchor against. It feels uncomfortable and awkward and good at the same time, to have someone be happy about providing Onni help, and he can feel that this, combined with the times that Reynir has pushed him to express what he's feeling, the times Reynir has walked him through things he's been feeling, the times that he's chosen to seek Reynir out when something was upsetting him, is opening something up in him. It's small, and fragile, but it's unfurling like the petals of a brand new flower under the spring sun, and he's both relieved and terrified of that feeling.]

It's...different, for me. To be able to talk to someone about this kind of thing. About what bothers me, or what's hurting.

[A pause, and Reynir is telling him he's closer to Onni than he is to anyone else, not just in this place, but at home too. Onni keeps his eyes on the soil in the pot, his heart beating hard for a few moments, until Reynir says that Onni is his best friend.

For a moment, everything in his mind is silent, and he keeps his eyes on the soil and his fingers in it while he processes that.

Onni would expect, upon being told that he's Reynir's best friend, one of two reactions. Either he would be annoyed, like it was too familiar, presumptuous, a little uncomfortable at not reciprocating that kind of attachment and feeling put out about the assumption that he might feel the same way. Or he would be pleased, because that is how he feels about Reynir as well, and it's good to feel the same way about another person as they feel about you. But he's not feeling either of those things. He's never really given much thought to what Reynir might be to him, beyond acknowledging that he's a friend and that they've gotten closer, that he feels more comfortable talking to Reynir about what he's thinking and feeling than anyone else. That Reynir makes it easy to talk to him, easy to care about him, easy to be around. That he enjoys spending time with him, talking about whatever. That Reynir makes him smile more than he's smiled in the past decade, that Reynir is considerate to him in a way he can't remember anyone being considerate before.

But he doesn't feel either irritated or happy. He just feels sort of disappointed. 'Best friend' is the wrong term for how he feels about Reynir, but not in the way he anticipated. It isn't too much. It's not quite enough.

Brows furrowing, he stares at his fingers in the soil for a few long moments as the thought slowly crystallizes into something coherent, as the dots connect. Disappointed about being called Reynir's best friend, thinking more often than he should about the way it had felt when Reynir tickled him and lay on top of him and kissed him under the glow of those stupid nanites. He realizes, very abruptly and uncomfortably, what it is he's feeling.

Oh.

Tilting his head, he looks at Reynir for a moment, with his easy smiles and his soft hair and his green eyes and his freckles, and swallows all of that down. It won't do, to introduce that kind of confusion into his life right now, let alone Reynir's, after all the kindness Reynir has shown him. It wouldn't be good for either of them. Best avoided.]

Ah.

[That gives entirely the wrong impression, so he clears his throat and speaks carefully, making sure to keep his tone even.]

I feel the same way. Closer to you than anyone else, even back home. I had friends, but you're more than that.

[braidmage]

[ Reynir, for his part, has no idea what's going on inside Onni, behind those icy blue eyes of his. But that's not an unusual position to find himself in. He likes that Onni has hidden depths. It is a part of his indescribable Onni-ness. He can tell, that Onni is thinking something deeply, something he isn't sharing, as he looks at Reynir. That much is clear to him. He just has no idea how deeply those thoughts relate to himself, to how Onni feels about him.

Onni's initial response to Reynir's characteristic gushing about how much Onni means to him is... restrained, to say the least. Reynir takes it well, though his stomach sinks with disappointment and sadness. Still, he hadn't expected any different. Reynir is used to caring about people more than they care about him. He can live with it, without too much pain.

Except then Onni clears his throat and clarifies. Says Reynir is more than just a friend, that he feels the same.

Reynir cannot help it, then. The relief and happiness douse him like a tidal wave. He lights up with it, beaming and flinging his long arms around Onni, pulling him into an impulsive, tight, awkwardly sideways hug. It comes back to him in a rush, then. Lying on top of Onni when they were both stoned. The way he'd said that should do that much more often. Reynir thinks he must be a bit starved for touch, in this place. Sure there is Kisa, but as cuddly as she is, she's no substitute for closeness with another human.

But Reynir doesn't connect the dots, the same way Onni has, for a number of reasons. He is much more used to a feeling of closeness with others. He is less inclined towards self-analysis; he doesn't really think about the reason for that glowing warmth in his chest or why it is Onni he wants so badly to be close to. He just stays scooted close to Onni and shifts in a way that he can stay near enough that their knees are pressed together, even when he stops hugging Onni so he can go back to repotting plants. ]

[scowlish]

[This is, he realizes, one of the things he likes about Reynir - how he gives Onni time to process his thoughts and feelings before demanding answers. It makes Onni feel more comfortable actually telling him those things. It makes it easy to talk to him and actually say what he's feeling and thinking. And so, because he was given the time to express himself properly, that reaction from Reynir is more affecting. Onni says 'mm' quietly, and looks back down at the pot while Reynir flings himself against him, wraps his long arms around Onni's shoulders and hugs him sideways in a genuine, excited, impulsive sort of way.

It feels good. Better than it has any right to, and Onni lets out a slow, contented sigh, lifts a hand to squeeze idly at Reynir's bicep where it's wrapped around his shoulders, leaving a couple little smudges of soil on the fabric of his shirt. When Reynir settles down next to him, close enough to touch, Onni only hesitates for a few moments before scooting just slightly closer so their thighs are also touching, as he pots the big plant he's been preparing the pot for.

For a while, there's just a companionable silence while they work together, and then Onni speaks again, carefully, because it's been on his mind lately.]

Lalli told me that Tuuri asked all of you not to tell me she'd been injured. Why didn't you tell me that, when I was so angry at you?

[braidmage]

[ During that stretch of silence, Reynir's mind had wandered far far away, and he is not expecting it at all, when Onni brings up Tuuri out of the blue. Not just Tuuri, but how Reynir had lied about her being possibly infected. It feels like some ice has slipped into his stomach. Reynir goes very still, looking down at the little mound of soil held between his hands.

Some distant part of his mind is glad that Lalli and Onni had been speaking about Tuuri. That the both of them are at least attempting to process her loss.

He is so startled by the change in topic that it takes him a moment to answer. For some reason, the guilt and grief have a particularly sharp edge, today. Reynir swallows a couple times, staring down at the damp dirt in front of him. It's not particularly enjoyable, trying to recall what had been in his mind back then.

Reynir can't remember anymore whether he'd planned on telling Onni that Tuuri didn't want him to know. Maybe? He had gone looking for Onni thinking he was going to break the news of her death. That was the terrible discussion he'd planned for. Not making justifications for his own lie. And then Onni had been so towering in his fury, and moments later, so vacant and broken by his grief. Reynit can't remember anything other than being heartbroken for him, and that awful, paralyzing guilt, tingling through his limbs. Guilt for not telling Onni, guilt for not saving Tuuri, guilt for being alive at all. ]

I... don't know. She was gone either way, and I had to tell you Lalli had gone missing, and I wasn't going to - whine and say she told me to do it, like you ought to be blaming her, instead. She asked, but I still chose to lie. I deserved that anger.

[ Reynir looks up at Onni, then, green eyes round and full of hurt. For some reason, it's harder today, than most days, to believe that it wasn't his fault. That he couldn't have thrown himself in front of Tuuri and saved her, and she could be here with Onni instead. ]

I was so worried about you. I didn't care if you blamed me, if it made you feel better. It wasn't like you could - kill the troll that did it, or do anything to the Illness itself. So if it helped for you to hate me for a while or hit me or shout, I didn't mind, because - at least it might be something...

[ He shrugs, trailing off. ]

[scowlish]

[It's immediately obvious how the question affects Reynir, the way it hits him. For a moment he stares silently and then he looks down at the soil, obviously thinking. Obviously hurting because of the question. For a moment, Onni is silent, he feels a bit guilty bringing it up. It's obviously something that weighs heavily on Reynir, and he's making him going through it again.

But part of him really needs to know that answer. To understand why Reynir had held back that detail. Why he hadn't excused himself with that when he'd come to confess, if he'd seemed to want to stay in Onni's good graces by lying in the first place. For a moment, he returns the favour Reynir had given him earlier, and lets the younger man have the space to work out his answer to the question, to work through his feelings before he has to say something in response. It's a difficult question, he knows it. It's only fair to give him time.

And after a while, Reynir speaks again, his voice quiet, and hinted with what Onni recognizes now as guilt. Explains that she was gone anyhow, that he'd had to tell Onni about Lalli being missing, that he hadn't wanted to whine and try to excuse himself. That he hadn't wanted to blame it on her, to make it seem like it was her fault, when he was the one who chose to lie.

Onni's eyes are wet, as he looks at Reynir, watching the way he struggles with his hurt, the way his face changes when he says he was worried about Onni because there was nothing Onni could do, he was helpless, and maybe being angry and hitting Reynir and hating him might have made him feel better. There's something in his chest and belly - warmth, fondness, affection, respect, but there is also burning shame there.]

I want you to know, I respect you for not trying to put the blame on her.

[His voice is a little tight, and he exhales shakily.]

I also appreciate how worried you were about me. I'm sorry for shutting you out, then, but I wouldn't have been able to talk about it to anyone.

[For another few moments, he's quiet, processing his thoughts, and then swallowing hard, lifting his chin and looking over at Reynir and trying to meet his eyes, holding contact. Reynir's eyes are beautiful, and he looks so sad.]

I understand why you thought it would be alright to let me take out what I was feeling on you, but I don't want you to ever do that again. Don't let me take things out on you. I'll do my best not to do it again, but don't let me get away with it if I do. I don't want to hurt you.

[Exhaling softly, he shakes his head.]

You don't have to feel bad anymore, about it.

[braidmage]

[ When Onni explains he wouldn't have been able to talk to anyone at the time, Reynir gives a small nod, biting at his bottom lip. It is easier for him to accept that, now that a little more time has passed, and he and Onni are closer, and Onni does talk to him now. Confide in him and come to him when everything gets to be too much. Reynir doesn't regret telling him to talk to somebody, back then. But he gets it now that the grief had been too fresh and too terrible for Onni to listen.

He is not expecting what Onni says after, however. Onni's face has gone grave and Reynir's stomach twists up in worry. Had he made things worse? Is Onni angry? He looks so serious... Reynir meets his eyes and listens, tense, as Onni tells him not to let that happen again. Not to let him 'take things out' on Reynir. He opens his mouth, wanting to protest - to say that Onni hadn't hurt him, it hadn't been like that at all, that wasn't what he'd meant to imply. Reynir remembers, all too vividly, how distraught Onni had been at the mere suggestion that a stranger had thought he mistreated Lalli. The last thing Reynir wanted to do was make Onni feel like he hurts people.

But he stops before he has said anything out loud. The words die in his throat, because he can't say Onni hadn't scared him for a moment there, or hurt him in the most basic sense of the word. Reynir just... can't bring himself to think that he hadn't deserved it. It had been a justifiable, understandable reaction. He still doesn't blame Onni, at all.

He can see, though, how it would scare Onni. How he might want to take measures to make sure it didn't become a pattern that would repeat. Reynir's mouth closes, and wordlessly, he nods his agreement. He would do his best not to let him get away with it, if things ever got like that again. He doesn't think that will ever happen, but... if it does, he will try.

Sighing rather shakily, Reynir sets down the plant that he had been repotting. All this big talk he gives Onni, about how it's alright to be vulnerable, to need things, to want to be close to others. Now is a moment when he has the choice to be a hypocrite, or to practice what he preaches. So, softly, he asks: ]

Can I - have a hug, please?

[ It's stupid, and he feels stupid the moment the words leave his lips. But this isn't like those times when Onni was the one distraught and Reynir would pull him into a hug without waiting for permission. This is different. He is the one needing comfort, now. And asking is... hard. But he does it.

He knows that Onni is right. He should forgive himself and not feel bad about this anymore. On a different day, he might be more able to. But for today, he's just... a little less able to keep the sadness down. ]

[scowlish]

[Whether or not Reynir had protested his behaviour, there wouldn't have been any convincing to be done - Onni knows that he had behaved badly when Reynir came to apologize. He knows that he shouldn't have hit him, knows that he shouldn't have threatened him. It hadn't been his fault, even if he hadn't known about Tuuri's wish to keep her situation a secret from him. Onni had been angry that she'd died, angry that she'd left him, angry that he hadn't gotten to say good-bye outside of a few seconds in the dream realm, that he hadn't gotten to say the things he needed to say to her because he was too busy begging her not to leave him. He was angry at her for leaving him, and angry at himself for letting her go.

It wasn't fair of him to take that out on Reynir. Reynir had earned a certain amount of anger, of course...but not that much, and not that violently.

So it's a relief when Reynir looks at him and nods a little, doesn't protest, just lets Onni accept the responsibility for his bad behaviour and promise not to do it again. Promise to let himself be called out if he even tries to. Reynir has become someone Onni can't allow himself to hurt, he's too important, he means too much to him.

And Reynir is looking at him with that quiet, sad, vulnerable expression on his face and asking if he can have a hug. Onni blinks, for a moment, and then pushes away the pot he's working on, shifts closer and wordlessly reaches for the younger man, pulls him close against himself. Folds him into his arms and lifts a hand to curl his fingers into the thick hair at the back of Reynir's head, just above his braid. Closing his eyes, he presses his face against Reynir's shoulder and sighs softly while his other hand rubs gentle circles against Reynir's back.]

Thank you, for not blaming it on her. I mean that. And I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. There was nothing else that you could have done differently to make any of it better, you understand?

[braidmage]

[ Reynir doesn't just hug Onni back - he sinks into the hug, clinging tightly, gripping Onni like he's afraid that he will be ripped away from him at any second. He hadn't expected this, this sudden surge of grief and guilt and complicated feelings. But he is so grateful Onni was here when it happened. And he lets himself seek comfort in those strong arms.

Burying his face against the curve of Onni's neck, Reynir's gives a brief nod in response to Onni's kind words. He is not crying, but his emotions are raw and close to the surface, his voice throaty with them as he says: ]

Okay. I understand.

[ And though his fierce grip loosens somewhat, Reynir doesn't move out of Onni's arms. He stays there, pressed in close to the warmth of him. The hurt doesn't go away - not all of it. Thinking about those awful days is still painful. But it's good, that they talked. Good that they understand one another a bit better. And good that Onni is here for him, supporting him, forgiving him. ]