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It’s only when Akali gets up to do the dishes that she notices the cuts on her hands.
They’re small. Little seams opening along the lines in her skin, where it stretches over her knuckles. They look less like cuts and more like a faint red rash, and she only knows they’re there because they’re stinging from the running water and soap. It doesn’t hurt much. It’s just an oh moment, like, oh yeah, it’s winter, and winter is cold. Like, it’s a bit hard to miss, the fact that it’s cold outside, with the snow and the wind cutting through her clothes every time she steps out, but every year it’s the same: Akali only really registers how fucking cold it is when she sticks her hands under the tap and they start stinging from a dozen little cuts she didn’t even know were there. And, like, moisturising would help, but Akali never really remembers that sort of thing. So. She kind of asked for this.
She washes up. The stinging fades, her body learning to ignore the little pinpricks of pain the same way it learned to ignore bigger, worse ones. When the dishes are done and the kitchen counter is clean and dry, Akali heads back to the common area and crashes on the couch, nestles further into her hoodie, slips her hands into the front pocket, kicks her legs up over the arm, and closes her eyes.
When she opens them again, it’s darker, there’s the smell of marshmallows in the air for some reason, and Evelynn is there, leaning over her. She’s wearing an oversized black sweater, her hair is slipping out of its loose braid, and she looks soft in a way she normally isn’t. Akali blinks sleepily up at her, already shifting onto her side and further into the back of the couch. Evelynn slips into the space she makes for her, by her waist.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Akali brings her hands out of hiding to scrub at her face. “When did you guys get back? What time is it?”
“Just after eight. We got back maybe thirty minutes ago. Ahri and Kai’sa are trying to make s’mores in the kitchen because Kai’sa’s never had one before and Ahri wants to set shit on fire. Anyway, we ordered pizza for dinner.” Akali makes a noise. “Yes, I ordered Hawaiian for you.” Akali makes another noise, softer.
(Evelynn doesn’t fight the smile. It’s not often that Akali lets her guard down like this, and the way she is when she doesn’t really want to be awake is—it’s kind of cute. Besides, nobody’s here to see, and with her eyes scrunched up like this, Akali won’t know, either.)
“Thanks, Evelynn,” Akali says, voice rough from sleep and muffled by her hands. Then the sofa dips as Evelynn shifts, and then cool hands are on her own, pulling them away from her face. Akali doesn’t have the bandwidth to process what’s going on, stares at Evelynn a bit, confused, and then she registers that Evelynn’s looking at her hands, the reddened knuckles and the tiny cuts, and she can’t make out what that expression on Evelynn’s face is, only that her brow is furrowed.
“It’s just the cold,” Akali finds herself saying. “Wasn’t a fight or anything. I just forget that, um,” she waves a hand, “that winter is cold.”
Evelynn huffs a laugh. “I noticed,” she says, and leans back against Akali, gentle pressure. “You walked out in the snow yesterday in just leggings, a loose shirt, and a hoodie.”
Well, put that way, it just sounds stupid. “The store’s just across the street. And I get—”
“—overheated easily, I know.” Akali just stares at her. Evelynn rolls her eyes, elaborates. “Last week Ahri made you wear thermals and you ducked out of the building after twenty minutes to stand in the freezing cold because you were getting dizzy.”
She’d been about to pass out, actually. After a good ten minutes of just breathing in the cold, Akali had ducked back inside, gone to the washroom to change out of the thermals. When she’d come out again Evelynn had been there, leaning against the wall, even though the meeting was still ongoing. She’d started filling Akali in on what she’d missed, voice sharp but the cutting edge directed at the corporate assholes Ahri was fielding upstairs, and somewhere along the line she’d pressed a water bottle into Akali’s hand with no explanation. Akali hadn’t really questioned it at the time. That’s the thing about Evelynn; Akali doesn’t ask, doesn’t need to.
I know, Evelynn says, like it’s nothing. It’s not. Akali is a quiet person. It’s not just that she doesn’t talk much; she does everything quietly, handles everything on her own, doesn’t broadcast, isn’t loud that way. She doesn’t expect anyone to notice. But Evelynn did; Evelynn does. Akali doesn’t really know what to say, but Evelynn doesn’t seem to expect a response.
(That’s another thing about Evelynn—she’s comfortable with silence. It happens a lot, pauses and breaks in the conversation whenever Akali’s involved. But with Evelynn she doesn’t feel the pressure to fill the quiet. She can just be.)
Evelynn shifts her grip on Akali’s hands. She doesn’t pull on them, doesn’t do anything that might tug the cuts wider; it’s more of a firm suggestion, a come with me. Akali is moving with her before she knows she is.
“Where are we going?”
“To take care of your hands.” The moment Akali is upright, Evelynn’s grip loosens, until one of Akali’s hands slips free of the hold. The other stays. Akali doesn’t move to disengage. As they move down the hallway, the smell of marshmallows grows stronger. “And then we’re going to make sure Ahri hasn’t burned down the kitchen.”
“I’ll burn down the kitchen if I want to,” Ahri shouts. In the background, Kai’sa is laughing. Then: “Oh, shit, waterwaterwater—”
Kai’sa starts laughing harder. Evelynn smirks, and keeps going. She doesn’t let go of Akali’s hand, and she doesn’t say anything. Akali doesn’t say anything either, and just follows.