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The air was moist with the nature of a warm summer night. A thunderstorm had formed far away from Dirtmouth, and everyone hoped that it wouldn’t come in the town’s direction. For now, however, everything was peaceful, and the storm was quite the spectacle.
Quirrel was seated at the bench within the center of town, Hollow’s head in his lap. The latter was at first rather tense but had now eased into a state of relaxation with the help of the rhythmic stroking of their horns. Even after he was sure they were calm again, Quirrel refused to cease the petting, for his love had been through so much abuse and horror in the past decades. Someone so sweet and kind, so beautiful and perfect, never deserved to endure such terrible things.
The bug in front of him… he was so lucky to have them in his life. No other entity in all of Hallownest, aside from Monomon herself, had enjoyed hearing his ramblings. Even when he’d talk for minutes on end or flap his claws in excitement, a habit he repressed for so many years, they would still listen, still love him. They had said one day that it was adorable and made them feel safe. He felt like he could melt on the spot when he first heard that, and it took him over a week to stop gushing about that moment. Simply thinking about it once again made him swoon. He hoped they never doubted their worth ever again. They were so divine, so precious and–
Flustered, Quirrel turned his attention back to the storm. It hadn’t moved much from when he was previously observing it. How long had it been, really?
A flash of lightning struck the ground, followed by the rumbling of thunder softened by the distance. That phenomenon always fascinated him. Had he told Hollow about why it occurred?
“Flower,” he began, still stroking their horns. A purr from the vessel confirmed that they were listening intently. “Did you know that you can tell how far away a thunderstorm is just by listening to it? Even though both the lightning and the thunder occur at the same time, you will always see lightning before you hear thunder because light is faster than sound. Thunder takes about five seconds to travel about one pale unit, so if you divide the time in seconds it takes for you to hear it by five, it tells you how far away it is. Allow me to demonstrate…”
It didn’t take long for lightning to strike again, which gave cue for Quirrel to start counting. Eventually, he counted to about fifty seconds until he heard thunder once more, this time a little quieter. “So the storm’s about ten pale units away,” he said.
Suddenly, Hollow let out a trilling noise, a sign of humor. “What’s so funny?” the pillbug giggled back.
Nothing at all, they signed, their arm raised in the air. I simply love you so much.
They were adorable.
A brief moment passed until Hollow raised their hand to sign again. May I try?
And to that Quirrel couldn’t say no. “Of course, dearest.”
Once lightning flashed again, they began to count just as was demonstrated until thunder rumbled. Still about ten pale units, they signed.
Quirrel had calculated the same number. “Very good!” he praised.
And so the two spent the next few minutes counting the time between the flash of lightning and the rumbles of thunder that followed. The number seemed to increase with each round, the thunder becoming softer each time. The storm must have been going in the opposite direction.
Hollow’s sudden change in posture and shifting of their head startled Quirrel out of his thoughts. Was something wrong? Eventually, he stammered out an “A-are you okay?”
The vessel turned to face him. Yes, they signed. I think I just want to go home.
“That can be arranged, my flower,” he said, standing up off the bench. “I can leave–”
Quirrel was interrupted by Hollow quickly but gently pulling him into a hug. They slowly eased themself and their lover to the ground. “You’re not going home?” he asked, surprised.
You are my home, Quirrel, they tapped on his shell in Hallownestian code. Please stay.
“I will. For as long as you need, dearest.”
And stay he did. The two continued counting as they did before they moved off the bench. The storm was even further away now, and Hollow began resting their head on Quirrel’s shoulder. “Tired, hm?” he teased playfully, planting a kiss on their right horn.
As time passed throughout the night, he too began to drift off. The rhythmic rise and fall of Hollow’s chest, their soft layer of fuzz, and the now-barely-audible storm far away all eased his eyes closed.
Quirrel murmured a “G’night, sweetheart” as he joined his love in sleep.