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The first low rumble felt like a warning.
Tassita tensed, eyes flicking up from his book. For a moment, he considered that it was the roar of the diesel engines showing off. There hadn't been any weather forecast, right? Had he checked today? He looked down at his book, closing it with a nervous sigh, before reaching up to adjust his earbuds. Volume up.
Another rumble in the distance, drowned out by his music, but the flash that preceded it was unmistakably lightning, confirming his suspicions. A storm. Rain started to fall in the yard, slow at first but picking up speed.
He shook himself off, standing. He should get back before it got too bad. The storm was rolling quick, and he'd feel much better if he was in his room. The soundproofing would help with most of the sound, and he could ride it out.
He didn't get far though, before another strike cut through the air, this time closer. The following rumble was loud, hitting him like a wall, and he flinched. The music playing in his ears was useless now, swallowed by the growl of the storm.
Another crack, sharp and bright.
His hands moved instinctively, pressing over the buds, trying to seal the sound out. The action distorted the music, panic sharpening his senses until even the usual comfort felt tinny and painful. There was no pattern, no rhythm, his thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and anxiety.
'Too loud, too much. I can't think.'
He backed away from the open track, wheels catching on the gravel, and ducked between two empty freight containers by the nearby siding. It was darker there, cramped. It did nothing to cut off the endless rumbles, but at least it wasn't open to the skies.
He sank down, curling in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest. His breath was too fast. Too shallow. He couldn't breath, he felt dizzy, and the thunder surrounded him like the storm was laughing at his distress.
'One, two, three, four- I need to breathe. Just breathe. You've done this before, you can do this. It's fine, it's fine, it's—'
Another crack, this time hitting a tree in the distance.
He shrieked, chest tightening, and ears ringing. He couldn't stop shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pressed down on his ears until it hurt. The storm was getting closer. Louder, more insistent. Each roll of thunder felt like a knife in his chest, digging into his nerves, and he couldn't block it out.
He squeezed his eyes shut, every breathing technique failing him.
Another bang, closer still.
He let out a strangled sound that was half whimper, half scream, and buried his face in his arms. Somewhere in the panic, his earbuds fell out, skittering across the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to find them. His thoughts were scattered static now, and he felt frozen in place. It needed to stop, please make it stop, please—
A voice cut through the static, low and familiar, but he struggled to place it.
"Tassita?"
He didn't move. Couldn't. His body stayed curled in tight, muscles locked. He couldn't register the words being spoken, just that the voice was close. Too close. Voice meant noise, new sounds to deal with. His breath hitched again, as a sob tore its way from his chest.
Something heavy stepped closer. Slow. Cautious.
"-kay. You're okay, you're safe." The voice said, close enough for him to hear through the rumbling. "Tassita, it's me, Lumber. I'm here."
Lumber. He knew that name. He knew who that was, but it wasn't reaching him right. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting, unable to focus on the familiarity.
He tried to reassure himself, to remind himself that he knew Lumber, but he couldn't stop. The thunder cracked again, and Tassita flinched so hard his teeth clacked together. His body wouldn't respond, and he just wrapped his arms tighter around his head, pressing harder, harder. It didn't block it out. Nothing blocked it out.
Footsteps again, lighter now. Softer.
"Tassita," Lumber said, quieter, and there was the crunch of gravel as he sat down. "Can I touch you? Just your arm. It might help."
He shook his head violently, eyes still squeezed tight. He didn't want to be touched. He didn't want to be seen. Didn't want to exist. He whimpered, curling in tighter.
"Okay, okay. No touching. Got it," Lumber said, not moving closer. "You're okay. I'm here, you're not alone. I've got you, alright? You're not alone." The words were repetitive, as he mumbled more reassurances, cutting through the discordant racket in his head. It was steady, and Tassita latched onto it.
His arms twitched, fingers trembling. His breathing was ragged, catching in his throat. The sound of the rain on the metal containers around them felt like it was inside of his skull, every droplet sounding like an uneven drumbeat.
Another thunderclap, the closest it's been, and Tassita screamed, rocking forward to curl up tighter. He was sobbing louder now, messy and shaking, and so embarrassed he could barely stand it.
"It's alright," Lumber said gently, like the sound hadn't even made him flinch. "I'm still here. I'm staying here." He shifted, getting closer, and Tassita reached out with one shaking hand, grasping the fabric of Lumber's vest, clinging to the piping.
"Do you wanna come back with me?" Lumber asked after a few seconds, voice low and quiet. "Back to the freight yard? It's warm there. And dry. And… the others are out, so it's quiet?"
Tassita didn't respond. Couldn't.
His throat was too tight, too raw. But he heard the words. Thought about the safety being inside could bring. Maybe there'd be blankets. Shelter from the noise.
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to move.
But the next roar of thunder stilled him. He whimpered, fresh tears falling, and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, letting go of Lumber's pipes.
The storm filled the air, wind hissing, rain drumming on metal, thunder growling in the distance.
But then, over the sound of that, came a quiet humming. It was steady, a quiet melody that cut through the din.
Tassita's fingers tightened in the fabric of his sleeves, still curled up. He was shaking, unbearably cold and wet. But he couldn't move. But… something about the humming helped, and he angled his head a little to show he was listening. It wasn't a tune he recognised, but it didn't matter. It wasn't sharp or fast. It didn't jolt his nerves. Instead, it was warm. Safe.
He curled up a little more, breath hitching when another rumble cut through, but it didn't spike into a sob this time. He managed to loosen his grip on his sleeves a little, but he couldn't do much more than that.
Still, Lumber didn't waver. He continued to hum, slow and patient, like he could go on forever if he needed to. He didn't speak, didn't add anymore discord and unpredictability to the noise. He didn't try to force Tassita to move.
He just stayed.
Tassita's breath came a little easier now. Still shallow, still trembling, but his chest didn't feel as much like it was a vice anymore. The storm was still there, loud and wild and too much, but there was something else now. Something soft and comforting that cut through the chaos like a hand offered in the dark.
He clenched his jaw, eyes still squeezed tight. Another clap of thunder made him flinch, dragging a whimper from him. His heart was pounding, as he tried to unfurl himself. The rain pressed in around him, wind howling through the air.
But the humming went on.
A shiver ran through him, as he clung to the tune, and he blinked his eyes open a sliver, looking at Lumber, his figure blurry and partially obscured by rain.
"I…" he tried, the word caught in his throat. He swallowed, jaw tight, staring helplessly at Lumber. "…can't stand, I-"
"You don't have to do this alone," Lumber soothed, patiently. "I'll help you, okay?" He didn't move, speaking softly instead. "Can I help you stand? Or do you want to stay a little longer?"
Tassita blinked slowly, eyes burning, vision still rimmed with static. The words reached him clearly, but he couldn't bring himself to move. His whole body was aching, oversensitive, adrenaline making everything heavier, limbs heavy like wet cement.
He wanted to answer. He really did. But his tongue wouldn't work, and his throat was raw. He tried to nod instead, managing a jerky motion. But that was enough.
Lumber moved with care, one large hand rising slowly. He didn't move fast, giving Tassita time. "Okay, I'm gonna touch you, alright? Just a hand on your arm. You can push me away if it's too much."
Tassita didn't push him away, letting out a broken sound as the weight settled gently on his arm. It wasn't overwhelming like he'd expect, the contact grounding, devoid of any demand or expectation.
With slow, practised patience, Lumber adjusted, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and holding it. "Can I put this around you? It's waterproof, and warm, and it might block some of the sound." He waited patiently, only moving again when Tassita nodded, carefully settling the jacket around his shoulders.
When another thunderclap sounded, Lumber didn't falter as he tucked it close, pulling the collar up around his ears to buffer some of the noise.
It was far too big, hanging off him like a blanket, but it smelled of wood and earth and something sweet. It helped, and he clung to the comfort the fabric offered.
"I've got you," Lumber murmured. "We'll go slow. Just lean on me, alright?"
Tassita nodded again, barely. His hand, still trembling, reached for Lumber's arm, settling on the thermal under suit shakily. Lumber rose then, standing slowly, gradually pulling Tassita to his feet, guiding him up rather than tugging him up.
He stumbled once, knees nearly giving out, but Lumber was there, calm against the storm still raging around them.
They didn't talk. The thunder hadn't gone, and every crash made Tassita flinch, but he was able to cling to Lumber instead, someone stronger than the fear gripping him.
Lumber looked down at him. "I'm going to wrap my arm around you, you can stop me if you don't want me to."
Tassita let him.
His arm wasn't tight, Lumber didn't squeeze him. Instead, he used the touch to help guide Tassita forward, away from the hiding place he'd found, and back towards the yard.
The journey back was slow, and Tassita felt guilty every time the thunder made him falter, every time they needed to stop and take a break. Exhaustion weighed him down, the jacket heavy around him. But Lumber didn't complain once. He continued to hum as they walked, soft slow notes that Tassita could listen to.
By the time the reached the freight shed, Tassita's legs were shaking worse than before, stumbling and relying on Lumber to keep him upright. Cold had sunk deep into his joints, but his tears had stopped by now. There was a pounding in his skull, a dull thudding ache that added to the overwhelm. But Lumber's presence kept him from outright panicking.
Lumber reached out with one hand, opening the door, before guiding him inside with steady patience. The space was warm, dimly lit. It smelled like coal, and wood shavings, and grease. A small wood hearth crackled in the corner of the room, and Tassita let out a shaky breath.
The thunder was still audible, but it was more muffled now, the walls dulling the worst of it.
Tassita's legs gave out just inside the doorway.
Lumber caught him with ease, half-carrying him over to the sofa, before picking up a thick blue blanket. He pulled the living space door shut with a gentle click, muffling the sound further, before easing the jacket from around his shoulders, holding out the blanket.
"It's soft," he murmured, voice quieter now that he didn't need to compete with the storm. "Do you want to feel first? We have other blankets if you prefer a different texture."
Tassita blinked, shakily reaching out to brush his fingers over the blanket, nodding when he realised it wasn't scratchy. He mouthed a wordless 'thank you', but no sound came out, as Lumber leaned over to settle it around him.
It smelled much like the jacket, and Tassita found himself burrowing into it with an unsteady sigh, curling up and watching the fire crackle low in the hearth.
"You're safe here," Lumber spoke again, softly. "Nobody coming back tonight, and this place keeps out sound really well."
Tassita nodded faintly, pale still. His eyes still burned, but he could focus a little more.
"Do you want anything to drink? Or snacks?"
Tassita shook his head. Not yet, he wanted to say. But that seemed to be enough for Lumber, who nodded, stepping over to the bookshelf, reaching for something leaning about it.
Tassita didn't have the strength to figure out what, before Lumber returned, holding a guitar.
It wasn't anything fancy. It was well worn, scratched up, and clearly well loved. Lumber ran a hand down the strings softly, before sitting down on the couch next to Tassita, cross legged. "Can I play you something?" he asked gently. "Nothing loud, something soft, gentle."
Tassita hesitated, then nodded.
Lumber gave him a soft smile. "Alright."
He began to play.
It wasn't flashy, like the kind of music he heard when the freights were having bonfires or whatever else they did here. But it was warm. A low, meandering melody, like something old and familiar, even though Tassita had never heard it.
The sound wrapped around the space, pushing back against the thunder like a barrier. It didn't fully drown the sound out, but it added context to the noise, softening the sharper edges.
Tassita leaned slightly towards the music, body slowly unwinding. The tension faded away, pulling the blanket closer around himself, eyes fluttering shut as the music washed over him. He could still hear the rain, but for the first time that night, he could ignore it.
Lumber kept playing.
The melody shifted subtly, soft chords rippling through the quiet space like waves lapping at the sharp edges of Tassita's frayed nerves. His fingers, still curled in the blankets, twitched before settling. His breaths came shallower now, his trembling easing. The rain against the roof sounded almost beautiful in combination, the thunder muted in the face of Lumber's guitar.
It was enough. Tassita didn't notice the exact moment when he tilted to the side, shoulder brushing against Lumber's arm. It just seemed to happen. He didn't flinch at the contact, didn't pull away. He was aware of Lumber looking down at him, fingers moving expertly over the strings.
He shifted slightly, giving Tassita space to rest, and Tassita accepted the wordless invitation, head laying against Lumber's shoulder, eyes shutting.
The tune softened further, notes drawn out like a lullaby. Tassita let out a faint breath through parted lips, feeling too heavy to move. The exhaustion finally caught up to him, but he didn't resist it.
The fire crackled softly in the heart, and he was vaguely aware of Lumber leaning against him. The thunder rolled again, more distant, but Tassita didn't even flinch.
The music continued, even as the tension drained from his body and he fell asleep. The last sensation he felt was lips pressing against the top of his head, before his awareness drifted away.
Tassita stirred slowly, head nestled in the crook of Lumber's shoulder. The blanket was still wrapped snugly around him, and the orange glow of early sunlight filtered through the windows of the freight shred, catching the dust in the air like flecks of gold. The rain had stopped, and the silence was rich, welcoming.
He blinked slowly, disoriented. Everything ached, and his chest felt sore. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion still, and it took a moment to piece things together.
The storm. The music. The fire. Lumber.
He looked up slightly, heart thudding with embarrassment as he realised Lumber had dozed off, head tilted to one side. One arm was looped around Tassita's back, and his mouth was open, soft breaths filling the space. It couldn't have been a comfortable position, but he'd stayed the whole night?
Tassita lingered for a moment, before slowly pulling away, careful to not wake Lumber. He sat up, tidying up his hair a little, guilt pressing into his ribs. The shed was still and comforting, but the memory of the night before, of how badly he'd fallen apart, made his throat feel tight.
He didn't hear Lumber stir until a quiet voice - still sleep thick and gravelly - said, "Hey."
Tassita looked over, startled. Lumber was sitting up straighter now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a yawn.
"How're you feeling?" He asked after stretching.
Tassita hesitated. "…better." He sighed. "Aching though."
Lumber nodded, but he didn't push for more information, instead setting to work folding up the discarded blanket.
"I'm sorry," Tassita said quietly after a moment. "For last night. I-I didn't mean to fall apart like that. You didn't have to…" His voice cracked, and he looked away, shame cinching his chest. "You shouldn't have had to take care of me…"
Lumber didn't respond right away. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
"Tass," he said quietly, brow furrowed slightly. "You don't have anything to apologise for."
Tassita shook his head faintly, opening his mouth to protest, but Lumber was already speaking again.
"You're not a burden," he affirmed. "Not last night. Not ever. You were scared and overwhelmed, and you deserved someone being there for you. That's all I did. I wanted to be there for you."
Tassita's throat felt too tight to speak.
"You don't have to be embarrassed, or feel guilty. You're allowed to need help," Lumber offered him a crooked smile. "And I'd sit through a thousand storms with you if it meant you'd be okay."
Tears gathered in Tassita's eyes, a strangled sound coming from him, relief filling him. He sat down next to Lumber, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Lumber didn't pull away.
"Thank you," Tassita whispered, unsure of how to show enough gratitude.
Lumber laughed softly, tucking Tassita against his side, smiling. "Anytime."
Tassita stayed close after that, fingers still curled in Lumber's sleeve, the quiet between them steady and welcomed. The fire had burned out to embers now, and sunlight tricked in through the windows as the sun rose higher in the sky.
Neither of them spoke much. They didn't need to.
After a few minutes, Lumber looked down at him, still smiling faintly. "You doing okay now?"
Tassita nodded. "Yeah. Still a mess, but… Better now."
"I'm glad."
Their eyes met, and something in the air shifted. Lumber didn't look away. He didn't move either. They both just waited.
Tassita's heart thudded. He could've pulled back, could've let the moment pass unspoken. But right now, he didn't want to.
So he leaned forward.
Their heads bumped as he moved too fast, and they both laughed under their breath. But then, quietly, Tassita tilted his head and kissed Lumber. It was gentle, soft. A slow, small press of his lips. Enough to say thank you. Enough to say more.
When he pulled back, he risked meeting Lumber's eyes.
The freight looked surprised, lips parted in surprise. And then he melted, gently cupping Tassita's jaw. And then he leaned in and returned the kiss, all warmth and gentleness.
It wasn't rushed or dramatic. It didn't need to be. And when they pulled apart, both of them were blushing. Tassita, head ducked and heart fluttering, and Lumber with a grin that he couldn't suppress.
The sun kept rising outside, painting them both in soft light. And they stayed there, shoulders touching, resting in the quiet.
Together.