Matthias Franke has never smiled quite so much. And he is aware of this because the mirror hasn't reminded him of his colorlessness this past week. Because Matthias's face hurts now. Because people are noticing and telling him about it; Amelie commented, "smile makes you shine," and the jolly man who collects deliveries for the florist of Eurothermenresort in Bad Ischl asked, "you win a big lottery or something, buddy?" 

This morning, the first of the summer rains starts as a drizzle, then rhapsodizes into a cloudburst. Matthias providentially prepared for it in advance, when telltale humidity began to thicken the air. His saplings are safe inside the glasshouse, the mudbanks will direct waterflow out of his backyard and prevent flooding, tarp covers will protect the plants that prefer dryer soils. Laura Franke had taught him all this – in fact, everything Matthias knows on the subject of gardening comes from tailing behind his mother in the garden, and asking to help, or asking for reasons to everything she did with the plants and the earth.

Everyone in his family enjoyed rainfall differently. Elias, as soon as he was old enough to walk, used to take his brothers by their hands and drag them out to play in the downpour; Markus jumped into puddles to douse his brothers; Laura curled up and read a book on the sofa next to the window; Hans – having towels ready for when the children came back in – occupied the sofa opposite Laura, drank tea, and kept a wary eye on his three boys. As Matthias grew, he became more and more of a homebody – choosing to stay indoors and sit with Hans instead of playing outside like Markus and Elias.

The memories add to the smile he has been sporting since last week, since his dinner with Emerynne Kaufmann at Rayne's Bistro, specifically since the moment her lips landed on his cheek in that sweet, soulful goodnight kiss.

Neck-deep in recollections of past both near and far, Matthias brews himself some lemon tea and takes his place on late Hans Franke's sofa by the backyard window. He doesn't have time to get cozy, however, as his doorbell rings. He sighs, sets his duvet and mug down, then moves to answer the front door.

He opens it to, "Matthias... I didn't know where else to go."

It's Emerynne, but she looks different. Her tresses are slick from the rain, her red-rimmed eyes are teary, her expression stony, and although she wears all colors as she typically does, she appears less bright somehow... smudgy, fragile. Yet, even underneath all that, she is still unfairly lovely. Still a fairy.

He asks her if she's alright.

And thereon, everything happens all at once.

Her aplomb mask falls and her shoulders shake as sobs break free. From her string of disjointed words, Matthias discerns that Emerynne's mother's husband is an alcoholic addicted to gambling, who has anger issues and is abusive. She also reveals – with such agony in her quavering voice, it hurts him – that Annika is easily manipulated. Her fear, her anger, her sadness, all crash into him. A broken dam, a flood, a drowning.

Emerynne is pacing, rambling, cussing, and it alarms Matthias. Not because there's a girl having a breakdown on his porch, but because something about her grief is acute – known, and felt, and intimate. It is a familiarity that comes from every little breakdown he's had, the memories of which now fester like a rot in the crevasses of his brain. It is agonizing, demanding.

Matthias panics because he himself has never been able to deal with it, therefore how is he to help someone else do that?

"There is magic in hugs."

Those are Sonja's words from an evening when Amelie cried upon being rejected for every single job post she applied to. Sonja had wrapped her arms around her wife, and like magic, Amelie's weeping waned.

Hugs make things like love and support tangible. This is what Matthias understands. While it may be an oversimplified understanding of something a lot complex, it is enough. Thus, somewhere amidst his apprehension, there grows an urge to protect and console Emerynne. She has come to him, him of all the people in her life, seeking solace. He can't – he won't – fail her.

There is magic in hugs, he asserts mentally, squashing his doubts and his inhibitions to inexistence. In a couple of steps, Matthias is next to her, and in a couple of seconds, he is pulling her shaking form into his embrace. She is soaked, the rainwater leaches through his clean sweatshirt, and she smells like a wet dog. Yet he doesn't care.

Matthias simply cares about two things at the moment. The first is that Emerynne doesn't object to being hugged by him, and the second being that the magic works.

Questions, dreams of a distant possibility, come to his mind – unbidden, but not unwanted. What will being hugged by her feel like? What will baring his secrets to her feel like? What will waking up to her feel like? What will having an insight into all of her be like? What will being loved by her feel like? What will loving her feel like?

Deep inside, Matthias almost believes that he has the answer to the last question. In an incomplete, incomprehensible way, he knows he feels ardently towards her. He knows it is love in some strange form – perhaps it is a crush, or a great admiration for her, or a desire to be the recipient of her affections, or maybe it's a combination of them all. Loving her feels like being breathless and breathing in a gust of fresh air simultaneously. 

Slow and gradual, the minutes pass and the magic works wondrously; Emerynne's sobs diminish. Still, he releases his grasp only when her sniffling ceases altogether.

"I'm sorry," says Emerynne, a weak rasp. "And... thank you for tolerating me."

Don't be, signs Matthias.

"But... I just... dumped an emotional load on top of you. I can't imagine how awkward you must've felt." She hugs herself and looks away from him, gaze roaming the frontyard. A little shiver sets her teeth chattering. "You must have been working, and doing something important, and I barged in, oversharing—"

Lifting a hand, Matthias silences her. He has heard enough. Gently taking her by the elbow, he guides her into the house and seats her on his sofa, proceeding to blanket her in the duvet. Get you fresh clothes, he signs. At her nod, he rushes to his room, changing his own soaked clothes before ransacking his cupboard in search of something Emerynne will be comfortable in. He gathers cotton trackpants, a tee, a towel, and a pair of socks into a pile, and returns. Giving them to her, he gestures into the house. The washroom is there. In the passage, on the right. Go ahead.

Matthias takes his now cold drink and heads to the kitchen, leaving Emerynne to change. He puts his mug into the microwave to reheat and brews a new batch of lemon tea for her. By the time he has served the hot beverage alongside a plate of Amelie's cinnamon rolls, Emerynne is already waiting for him on the sofa. Matthias brings a small coffee-table over and sits on the empty sofa facing her.

"Again, I'm sorry," says Emerynne, shaking her head, "I'll be out of your hair as soon as it stops raining."

Please stay as long as you like, Matthias asserts. This is what friends are for.

Emerynne's tone is quiet, though it is giving of her intense gratitude. "I can't thank you enough for this. Shit has been—" she swallows, curling and uncurling her fists in her lap "—everything, everything is fucked. I thought life was getting better, but mama will upend it in one fell swoop, one stupid fucking decision, and I—I can't... I can't..." In a shaky exhale, her new collectedness divests once again.

This time, Matthias doesn't need to deliberate prior to acting. He kneels in front of her, prying her hands off her face, and in hesitant fractions, he draws her arms around his neck. She yields easily, tucking her forehead on his shoulder and tightening her hold on him. She is warm and soft against him, her breath tickles his nape, the odor of detergent and naphthalene inoffensive compared to that of rain-drenched clothes. Granted his position is incommodious, nevertheless, there's no other place that he'd rather be. They stay this way, Emerynne weeping and Matthias rubbing her back, until she grows silent and pulls away.

Sniffing, she wipes her face clear of tears, and miserably maunders, "I don't wanna think about this anymore. I don't want—we'll talk about something else... we'll—what do you want to talk about?"

Empathizing with her need for a distraction, Matthias indulges her. He thinks for an instant, scratching at his chin, then gestures: I considered your business proposal.

A lie.

"Oh? And?"

And I agree to it.

Another lie. Love makes people lie, after all.

Her visage brightens, her worried frown melts into a smile. "Really?"

Matthias nods, also grinning.

"I'm really glad you agreed," she confesses, letting out a buoyant laugh. "This is awesome! Do you have any name ideas?"

I haven't thought of names, he tells her. Because all he thought of that week was the kiss from her, is what he doesn't tell her. An idea is quick to form though; Matthias snaps his fingers and conveys: The Heartsease Effect.

Gasping, Emerynne throws her hands in the air, exclaiming, "that's perfect! Did you just come up with it?"

Yes.

"You're perfect!"

His face and ears burning, Matthias quickly stands to hide the evidence of his diffidence, and hurries to the dining room. He grabs his red diary from the table and goes back to Emerynne's side. Keeping 'The Heartsease Effect' as the title of the page, the pair write up an ambitious blueprint. Over the zesty beverage and sapid pastry, they plan the layout of their website, the pros and cons of various e-commerce platforms, types of listings feasible for them to launch, till at long last, Matthias definitively puts his pen down. Cracking his knuckles, he motions: enough for now. I'm hungry.

"Sure. It's already past noon... hours fly when you're having fun, huh?"

Before Emerynne can suggest anything along the lines of leaving, he signs: would you like to share lunch? Amelie made me hakka noodles. One of her best dishes.

"Gosh, you're honestly so nice," Emerynne says, smiling, "thank you."

You say thank you too much, Matthias responds, making her laugh. He loves her laugh; he has loved it ever since he first heard it on that picnic they went to together. In a bid to spend some more time with her, to make her laugh some more, he queries: what are you doing after lunch?

Emerynne appears contemplative, twisting a thin lock of her still damp hair around her forefinger. She then answers, "I want to dye my hair a different color... do you know any good hairdressers here?"

Nodding, Matthias imparts: I'll drive you there.

Thank you, Emerynne signs, then aloud, she argues, "I didn't say it!"

He chuckles. He has never smiled quite so much.