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Since the day Lyney joined the House of the Hearth, he had been taught never to cry over meaningless things. Especially not something as small as a perfume bottle.
But the perfume bottle had been a gift, it was brand new, and now it was broken into a thousand tiny sharp glass shards all over his bedroom floor. Not to mention the intense flowery-alcoholic smell that was melting his nose from the inside out. He was sure he had the justification to cry a little bit.
With trembling hands, blurry vision, and a sudden lack of common sense, he tried to scoop up the pieces of glass, which cut tiny wounds into his palms. And if that wasn't enough, the perfume seeped into the cuts, causing them to sting.
"Ah- ow!" Lyney dropped the glass, trying desperately to wipe his hands on his pants. Crimson streaks appeared on the fabric as he wiped, and the pain wasn't going away. He flapped his hands around in the air, maybe shaking them off would help-
Bang.
It did not help. His right hand hit his vanity, quite hard. And he promptly burst into frustrated sobs. Usually, he would have opted to cry into his pillows, his hands, or even Rosseland's belly to muffle the noise, but he just couldn't. To cry into his pillows, he would have to get up and walk across his room to his bed, which he did not have the energy to do. To cry into his hands would mean irritating the wounds even more. To cry into Rosseland's belly, well, that required Rosseland to be in the room.
So Lyney settled for simply crying into the air in front of him, trying his best to keep the volume down; gods forbid anyone caught him being this pathetic.
It was rather unfortunate for him that his ears missed the soft click, click, click of a pair of heels approaching his door.
When he heard his doorknob begin to turn, it was too late even to wipe his face. And when he looked up and made direct eye contact with Father, he knew he was about to be in serious trouble.
"Oh, Father! Um- I- I was just... Um..." he trailed off, unable to come up with a good excuse to explain the state he was in right now.
Father's dark eyes narrowed at him, her sharp nose wrinkled from the smell of the perfume. "What happened?"
Lyney forced a smile, beginning to wipe his face. "I was just... practicing my acting skills! Y'know, every good actor can cry on cue!"
Her tone sharpened. "For an actor, you are doing a horrible job of lying to me."
Lyney flinched. "Sorry, Father..."
Father's expression softened, her tone matching. "What troubles you, child?"
He blinked. She wasn't telling him he was weak? Or that she was disappointed? How unexpected.
"I dropped my new perfume."
"You dropped your new perfume," she echoed. "And that explains the smell, I suppose."
Lyney nodded. "The... The glass broke, and..." he held up his bloodied hands.
Father's eyes flashed a look of concern for a brief moment. "Is there any glass in the wounds?"
"N-no, but..." he sniffled. "It... Hurts."
Her heels clicked as she stepped closer. She knelt down and took his hands in hers, examining the injuries on his palms.
"They're not deep," she murmured, running a thumb over one of them, rubbing the torn skin in exactly the wrong way.
Lyney hissed in pain, yanking his hands away from hers. "Ow!"
Father's expression did not change. "I'm sorry." She turned her attention to the remains of the perfume bottle. She picked up a rather large piece, holding it between her black fingertips. "Oh. This is the one your partner gifted you, no?"
"Yes."
Father nodded. "I... I see why you're so upset about it." She sighed. "Would you like me to help you clean the perfume?" she asked.
"P-please?"
She nodded, standing up and leaving the bedroom. When she came back with a garbage bag, a roll of paper towels, and a stack of old hand towels, Lyney stood up, intent on taking them from her.
"No. Just hold the garbage bag open for me."
With the paper towels, she scooped up the glass, dumping it into the garbage bag Lyney held open. With the hand towels, she dried up the puddle of perfume, and then took everything out of the room once again.
The intense smell was finally beginning to subside. Lyney sighed in relief.
When Father returned, she held out a hand, silently asking to see his again.
How unusually gentle of her.
Lyney held out his hands, and she took them again, continuing her examination in a way that didn't involve touching the wounds.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I should have cleaned it up."
"No need to apologize. I'll go get a first aid kit." She stood up.
Lyney pointed to his nightstand. "Bottom drawer."
Father nodded, and knelt to open said drawer. She took out his first aid kit, popping the lid and taking a moment to examine the contents before kneeling in front of him again.
Father instructed him to hold out his palms, and he did, allowing her to rub antiseptic cream into the cuts with a gentle touch.
The way Father was treating him... It felt like he was small again, before his parents died. He barely remembered them, since he was still so young when they passed. But one of the few memories he had of his mother, whose face he did not remember, tending his knees after he'd scraped them doing... He couldn't recall.
"All better!" Mama announced, kissing his little cheek.
"All better," Father announced, finishing the bandages.
Lyney burst into tears.
A look of surprise crossed Father's face. "Does... does it still hurt?"
Lyney shook his head, trying desperately to stop the tears from flowing.
"Then what's the problem?"
"I- I don't-" he stammered. "I don't know!"
Father let out a long sigh. Not a sigh of disappointment. A sigh of preparation.
She reached out, wrapping a firm arm around his back, and pulling him close. Father's arm held him tight to her chest, and her other hand guided his head to her shoulder.
"There... there..." Father's words were tentative and uncertain, unsure if she was even helping, but the intent was clear, and that was enough for Lyney.
With a sob, Lyney wrapped his arms tight around her neck, burying his face in her shoulder.
When was the last time anyone had allowed him to cry like this?
Father held her son close, gently rocking him as he wept into her shoulder. The hand on his back remained firm, the hand on his head relaxed, stroking through his blond hair like she worried she would hurt him if she were any firmer.
When his tears finally subsided, Father stood up, keeping him tightly in her arms. She placed him on his bed, using a tissue from his nightstand to wipe his face.
"Wh-why are you helping me?"
She took a moment to answer. "I don't like to see my children upset."
Lyney reached out for her, pulling her back into a hug.
"Does this help?" she asked, holding him tight.
Lyney nodded into her shoulder. "Yeah... It does... Thank you, Father."
Father held him tighter. "Good."
"Can we lay down?"
Father hummed softly in approval, having possibly misheard him. "If you're tired you should lay down."
Lyney slowly pulled away from her, lying down on his blankets.
"You look like you're expecting something."
Lyney hesitated. "Can you lay down, too? And like..." He held his arms out in front of him, wrapping them around an invisible person.
Father blinked in surprise. "Hug you again?"
"Please?"
She bent down to take her heels off, before laying down next to her son.
"Ah, let me get my weighted blanket," he mumbled, sitting up and reaching for the gray lump at the foot of his bed.
"A weighted blanket?" she questioned.
Lyney pulled the heavy blanket over them. "Helps me sleep."
As he shifted to rest his head on her chest, he paid attention to how it appeared she felt. She didn't look tense. Or uncomfortable. She rested a gentle hand on the back of his head, letting him listen to her heartbeat.
"A weighted blanket," she mumbled. "Hmm. How interesting."
"I can remove it?" Lyney moved a hand to the hem of the blanket.
She grabbed his hand. "No, don't, it's fine."
Lyney laughed, snuggling closer.
"Close your eyes and rest, child."
He nodded, a slight purr escaping him as his head moved. He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and Father. While Lyney relaxed, he could tell exactly when Father had drifted off. The hand on his head slipped off to rest behind him, and the heartbeat against his ear slowed.
Lyney purred softly, snuggling even closer.
"Sleep well, Father."