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Guqqie can tell there’s something on Aimee’s mind.
And, yeah, there’s always something on Aimee’s mind - he’s not really the kind of person who can keep his emotions quiet, as much as he wants to be - but this time it feels different. Ever since Scott got here, Aimee’s been twitchy, and panicky, and he’s been talking to Guqqie a lot less than he used to.
That’s upsetting, obviously; she wants him to talk to her about it, of course she does. More than that, though, it’s concerning. Guqqie doesn’t really care if Aimee never talks to her again, if she’s honest, as long as he’s feeling okay.
She’s got to pick her moment to ask about it, but that’s hard when every time they do manage to get some time together, Scott keeps showing up. And whenever that happens, Aimee goes straight back to his colder, distant, twitchy self that seems to be insistent that he’s actually never met Guqqie in his life.
More than anything else, this whole business is frustrating. Guqqie doesn’t know, and she doesn’t like not knowing.
Their salvation comes in the middle of the night.
Guqqie can’t sleep. That’s unusual for her - more often than not, she’s waking up after a long nap, but tonight it just won’t come to her. She ends up pulling out the brewing stand, fiddling around with a potion that’s probably going to come out completely useless from the way she’s throwing in ingredients on vibes alone instead of following a real recipe. You’ve gotta innovate when you’ve got a rival business, right? And there’s no better time for that than the middle of the night, where nobody’s gonna catch you if you set your house on fire and have to rebuild it in a rush while you’ve only got your PJs on. (Not that the house is particularly susceptible to fire, being largely nether wood and sculk, but the sentiment’s there.)
She’s only just finished powdering some dried nether wart with a mortar and pestle when she hears a heavy knock on the door.
“Hm?”
It comes again - more like somebody throwing themself against the door than any normal knocking, really. That’s why she rushes upstairs to answer it; it sounds like something’s really wrong. Maybe someone’s injured.
And there’s Aimee, biting at their hoodie sleeve balled in a fist, looking for all the world like the house actually is on fire and they’re not sure whether Guqqie’s going to make it out alive.
“Aimee,” she begins -
and Aimee surges forward, wraps his arms around them, clings to the back of their shirt with nails that are a bit too sharp for comfort.
“Hey, hey, what is it, what’s going on?”
“Fuck,” says Aimee, muffled in their shirt, “I wasn’t gonna - I didn’t -” he pulls back, and they can see in that moment that he’s been crying “- I’m so sorry.”
“What? No, you don’t - what are you sorry for? Did you do something?”
“No, because I just -” he gestures frantically to the space between them, the space that he’s just made by stepping back “- I should’ve asked.”
“To hug me?” Guqqie frowns. They don’t know why they wouldn’t be okay with that; Aimee’s their good friend, and any comfort they can offer him is gladly given. “I - you can do that, I don’t mind.”
“Let me get - I mean - um. Please can I come in.”
“Of course,” she nods, and guides Aimee through the doorway, pushing it closed behind him. Visible tension floods out of his shoulders as she does. Okay, so he’s probably come from something distressing, and he’s chosen Guqqie as the friend to seek comfort from because… well, she’s not sure. But she’s not going to turn down the opportunity to make Aimee feel better about whatever it is, and so she… “Erm,” she says. “I don’t exactly have anywhere to sit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
“I guess we can sit on my bed?”
“Okay,” says Aimee, something hard in his tone, but still seeming willing to commit to whatever it is he’s come here for.
Guqqie takes their hand and pulls them down the stairs towards the main body of her house. Their fingers are ice cold from the night air, their grip loose and still. It almost feels like holding hands with a zombie - but that’s not quite what Aimsey is, is it?
Demons should be warm, thinks Guqqie. The fact that he’s not…
“Okay,” she starts, once she’s got Aimee sitting comfortably on her bed, shoes off and slid underneath it, “what’s up?”
“Erm,” says Aimee. “I feel awkward now.”
Guqqie blinks. “What?”
“It’s - like, it’s not - you don’t need to - it’s nothing, don’t worry about it, I’ll just -”
“You can’t be serious.”
Aimee eyes her silently.
“You cannot show up at my door in the middle of the night, crying, let me let you in, and then tell me that it’s nothing.”
“I just -”
“Honestly, Aimee, if you’re going to pretend there’s nothing happening, then I don’t want to -”
“Look,” and she falls quiet expectantly, “it’s - had a fucking nightmare, alright?”
“A nightmare.”
“Yes, a nightmare! And I just wanted a bit of - of, I don’t know, I guess comfort, but I shouldn’t have assumed that you were -”
“Aimee.”
He’s silent again, eyes huge and dark against grey-bright skin. His inhumanity is easy to forget like this; he’s just so small, so wary and worried. Vulnerable.
“Please don’t ever assume I won’t want to be there for you. You’re my friend. I want you to feel okay.”
He swallows, audible, heavy, throat bobbing.
“Now,” Guqqie shifts back just a little on the bed, inviting them to get more central, “what happened in your nightmare?”
Aimee doesn’t take the bait of moving. “It was - um. I, uh. I had this near-death experience when I was younger?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” They grit their teeth. “Nearly drowned. Wasn’t good.”
“So you dreamed about that?”
“Kind of. I dreamed I, uh. Saw it happening to. Someone else.”
“Oh,” she says again. “That sounds awful.”
“Yeah, it was, and I had to make - to - to make sure… I mean… freaked me out, is all.”
... Okay, so there's definitely something they're not telling her.
Doesn't matter, though, Guqqie decides. She can still be a gracious host and a good friend to Aimee even when they're being evasive and secretive as usual.
"Well, you're here now," she tells them. "Nobody's drowning, nobody's in danger - least, not that I'm aware of. Would you like another hug?"
"... Yeah. Yes please."
So that's exactly what she gives them. As much as Aimee doesn't seem to like showing it, they will certainly melt into a hug when one's offered to them. Guqqie rubs a circle into their back with her hand, guides them over physically if they won't do it of their own accord and gets them towards the middle of the mattress. It almost sounds like they might let out a little noise at one point - Guqqie's not sure if that's distress or comfort, but she's also not sure that it matters. If Aimee isn't feeling better yet, then she will simply have to sit here until they are.
After who knows how long, they move to pull away; Guqqie relaxes her hand and meets them eye to eye. His voice is thick and flat. “You don’t talk to Scott, yeah? Promise?”
“No. No, I don’t, I promise.” Not like she really gets the chance - it’s happened, like, once, and nothing bad even happened. Honestly, if Aimee weren’t so weird about it, she wouldn’t even particularly want to.
“Good. That’s - good.”
He looks down at the bed, wringing his hands in the hem of his shirt. Guqqie’s arm is still around his shoulder; at least he feels a little less freezing cold than he did before. The insulation in here’s doing him some good, then.
Guqqie clears their throat.
“Do you want to stay the night?”
Aimee’s head shoots up, a prey animal, eyes staring.
“I mean - it’s okay to say no, if you don’t, I just thought it might make you feel better if you had some-”
“Yeah,” he interrupts, “yeah, yes, I’m - I’d like that.”
“Cool.”
“Good.”
They wait. Aimee doesn’t move.
“Um -”
“Yeah?”
“... Where?”
Guqqie blinks. “Here,” they say, gesturing right where Aimee’s sitting.
And - look, they don’t know if demons can blush, if they even have blood like other creatures do, but the way that Aimee’s face darkens in the dim light of Guqqie’s bedroom is a pretty clear signifier that he’s, if nothing else, been caught off guard. “Here here? Like, your bed here?”
“Yeah,” says Guqqie, “I don’t have another bed, it’s -”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to have to sleep on the floor or anything, I’m -”
“No, no, I wasn’t - with me.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s alright,” they tell him, “just - is it still okay?”
“No, yeah, no, I don’t mind, I’ll sleep with you.”
His blush gets even deeper when they both realise what he’s said.
“I mean -”
“Don’t,” says Guqqie, “even worry about it. I get it.”
“Okay.”
“Good!”
“Cool.”
Guqqie hoists themself up towards the headboard. “Alright, come on then, settle in.”
Aimee doesn’t move.
“Aimee?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, “yeah, let me just… do that. Okay. Cool.”
And, thank goodness for the end of the awkwardness, he does - settle in, that is. Guqqie manages to get comfortable as well, although there’s not quite so much room to spread out as they’d normally be used to. They find that warmth that they’d been imagining radiating out of Aimee once he sequesters himself to the very edge of the bed and lands with his head facing directly into the wall. Maybe that’s so he won’t make Guqqie uncomfortable; maybe he just prefers sleeping like this; she’s really not sure. Whatever it is, she doesn’t stress herself too much about it. She has offered Aimee all the comfort she can give, and it’s up to him to take as much as he needs.
Quiet falls, calm, peaceful. Aimee doesn’t need to breathe, but he’s doing it anyway, a gentle rise and fall of his chest that shifts the blankets over them just a little every couple of seconds. Guqqie lets the rhythmic motion of it lull her into drowsing.
She has no idea if he’ll still be here in the morning; if he’ll wake up and walk-of-shame himself back up the stairs before she has the chance to say goodbye, or if she’ll get to share breakfast with him, or if she’ll enter one of those overlong naps of hers and he’ll be the one waiting for her when she resurfaces.
She doesn’t think it matters, though. Right now, she’s helping Aimee feel better, and that’s all that really matters in her books.