being a Lightkeeper, flins didn’t usually have much to complain about.

nor did he prefer to, most of the times. he was content with what he had, with what he did, tending to the graves in silence that had become more of a companion than a bother over time. he’d almost say he preferred the silence.

of course, there was still you.

bright, sunny, cheerful you, that for some reason found him interesting enough to keep visiting the graveyard every other day. you never came empty handed, always having an offering–candles, flowers, company–for both the gravestones and him. he’d almost go as far as to say he was fond of it.

tonight, though, was a different matter.

the graveyard was still, whispers of long gone souls quiet for now. the harsh, ever present chill of nod krai almost felt heavier today, especially with his.. predicament.

periods really were a headache, weren’t they?

he sat resting against a gravestone, a comrade long gone, but somehow, sitting next to the tomb gave him some comfort. the usual cramps had him wanting to almost contort into whatever position would bring relief, but he held back–barely.

the flicker of his lantern smeared the ground with blue, resting by his side as it usually did. another wave of pain made him nearly wince, his hand coming up to rest over his stomach in a vain attempt to soothe the pain.

the gate to the graveyard opened with its familiar groan, a set of footsteps approaching him. he didn’t bother to get up, knowing it was you. you took one look at him, near slumped over the gravestone, and immediately pieced together the situation. without a word, you settled down on the ground next to him.

he finally looked up at you, his refined composure stilted in its appearance, his eyes shadowed, jaw tight.

“you’re earlier than usual,” he murmured, voice quieter than the night. “you’ve found me in quite the undignified state. forgive me. the day is unkind.”

you hummed, setting down the flowers you brought as offering again, head tilting back against the gravestone to look at the night sky. it was clear today, the stars prickling in their intensity. you didn’t have to ask to know what was wrong. you’d gone through it plenty yourself. the sheer disagreement of your body against your mind, the cramping waves that made you want to curl up under blankets and not move till it ended. he was still taking it with grace, you thought absently.

you didn’t ask him about the dysphoria. you didn’t need to. you knew how it was from experience.

instead, you leaned back, letting the silence stretch for a moment. then, you talked. about nothing in particular–how the sky over nod krai always seemed to wear heavier stars, the absurdity of the lighthouse’s squeaky stairwell, the strange way the seabirds squawked as if laughing at some secret joke.

flins listened quietly, breaths slow, his shoulders gradually easing. your presence wasn’t a cure, but knowing that he wasn’t alone, that you went through this particular brand of pain too–it dulled the edge a little. his usual reserve softened, eyes still closed, but his voice carried more warmth now.

“you make it sound as though the world isn’t so heavy,” he admitted quietly.

you glanced at him, lips quirking. “that’s the trick. distract yourself long enough, and the heaviness forgets it has you.”

for a while, neither of you spoke. the waves crashed faintly in the distance, gravestones standing tall around them. finally, flins opened one eye, watching you with something softer than gratitude but not yet daring to name it.

“..stay until the wind picks up again?” he asked.

you smiled, tugging your cloak tighter and nudging his shoulder tightly. “I was planning to stay ‘til you kicked me out.”

this time, he smiled, weary but genuine. and in the quiet graveyard, surrounded by silence and stone, the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder, holding each other through the weight of belonging in a body that never felt quite yours.