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That afternoon, Wing sat differently than usual. Instead of his place by Firebreak’s bar, he settled by a table right next to a window. Not very good for conversation. When asked, he noted something about having to catch up on studying with an awkward smile.
Though once it started raining, that intent seemed to have gone out of the window. Perhaps literally, considering Wing was too busy staring out of it to notice he was absentmindedly drumming his fingers on a page he hadn’t turned in at least half an hour. Grillby passed by several times when taking orders and it still didn’t look like it was going to change anytime soon. It took a bit, but finally, Brunn wouldn’t need anything for a few minutes.
So he was free to sit down at the end of the bench. “Hey.”
The tapping abruptly stopped and Wing turned to him, wide-eyed.
“You seem awful worried about the weather. Maybe even more than I am, curiously,” Grillby crackled to lighten up the mood. It seemed to work. The skeleton relaxed. “You okay.”
“Of course,” he replied, a little too quickly, before his eye lights ended up somewhere on the floor.
Grillby raised an eyebrow.
“D-don’t give me that look,” Wing frowned as he caught it and a hint of purple appeared on his face.
Still not a satisfying response. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have some experience with folk being afraid of rain and thunderstorms. It’s not something you should be—”
“That’s— That’s not what I— I’m not—” The color was now in full force and he shook his hands vigorously as he tried to think of something. “I’m not scared of the rain, I’m just— It’s—” Wing huffed and stilled himself. And tried it again, calmer. “It’s…” He exhaled deeply and started fidgeting with his sleeves. “It’s stupid.”
“Well… Maybe. Or maybe it isn’t. It still has you pretty anxious, whatever it is.”
The skeleton went back to drumming his fingers on the table as he, as discreetly as he could manage, looked around. “Promise— promise you won’t laugh. And that you won’t tell anyone.”
“Alright.”
“It’s,” he seemed to wonder whether or not he should back out at the last second, “…It’s the snails.”
Grillby blinked. “Snails?”
Wing put his face into his palms and nodded. “Snails. They’re— It’s not—” He threw out his hands in frustration. “They didn’t sign up for this!”
“For— for what?” To be honest, he probably couldn’t have less of an idea where this was going.
“The roads! The rain! The— The—”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“They— they—” He had to calm himself down again. “I— I guess I barely noticed it back— There were barely and paved roads back… But ever since I came here, I’ve been noticing it more and more. They come out after rain and then others just— It’s not fair! They’re only trying to exist, and we built death traps around them they can’t avoid. It’s not their fault, they’re just trying to get somewhere, and we… I guess it makes me sad? I do my best to not step on them and put them on grass when I can, but I’m just one monster. And I kind of can’t go running around in the rain moving snails.” Wing deflated significantly, the purple seeping away. “Go on, you can laugh now.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because it’s stupid. Because I’m naïve and overly sensitive. Childish.” Wing kicked one of the table legs, frowning ever so slightly.
He sighed with a crackle. “No. No, I think it’s…” The look he was getting was distrustful at best. He didn’t appreciate it being thrown his way. “…Thoughtful and kind. Have you considered picking them up with blue? I’m pretty sure you’re gentle enough with it to avoid hurting them. You could do that from here, without even stepping outside.”
There was a rather long moment when Wing stared at him in disbelief. “You— you don’t think it’s stupid.”
That was better. “No, I don’t,” he crackled with a grin, and meant it. Sure, it was little different than what he expected or was used to, but. Something wrong with it? “I really think it’s—”
Firebreak’s door creaked open and Grillby got dragged back to the reality of having a job. “Oh shoot, I have to— before stuff starts being late, sorry.”
He didn’t want to leave the wide-eyed skeleton in such a hurry, but what could he do. And it turned out to not be a problem, thankfully.
The next time he walked past him, Wing was practically glued to the window, book closed, subtle flashes of blue betraying what he was doing instead.
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