A/N: So, this was a strange one. I originally left this one to write last because I actually thought it'd be a simple concept at first. I was going to make it a wholesome and fluffy but no. I decided... no...

enjoy...

Chapter Summary: Sometimes things bear more meaning than we think. Through some heartfelt tears, Rayla learns what that means.

Word Count: 2,226

Scars Within the Scarves

"Why do ya wear that scarf all the time?" Rayla suddenly asked.

Callum raised a brow as he turned over in the bed, directing his confusion toward the elf. "What?" his time had come out a bit cold, but he amended himself by softly saying, "What brought that on?"

The room was dimly lit, with only a dying lamp rested on the nightstand. Zym was rested on the foot of the bed, sleeping soundly. The room wasn't chilly in the slightest and even if that were a factor, they had a blanket. The motel they were staying at was in a region close to the border, a generally fairly warm area. So with all these facts in mind, Rayla furrowed her brows in confusion as she noticed Callum going to bed with her whilst still donning on his red scarf. It was her turn to be big spoon for the night, and as she cuddled close to the Mage she noticed the red scarf flapped down in front of her face. It was then that she realized he had been wearing it every single second of every day since they met.

So she couldn't help but wonder about it.

"I mean, we're in bed," Rayla addressed, "I just thought it'd be uncomfortable or somethin'." She shrugged. "Like, don't ya get hot in that?"

Callum shrugged back, fighting back a frown. "No, not at all."

"So, ya get cold easily then?" she inquired.

"No," Callum denied, "I just, I'm fine!" He nestled around in his spot and smirked at Rayla. "See? I'm practically like Zym," he said confidently. "It makes me feel…" a sudden crestfallen look overcame him and worry quickly dropped within Rayla, "comfortable." His voice soft spoken, hesitant and quiet.

She knew that tone. He had the exact same tone when he talked about his dad's death. This concept of vulnerability and fear all laced within a small voice. A small boy who looked too afraid to let out all his emotions at the cost of staying strong for his little brother. The look of anguish and sadness that had briefly swept him told Rayla the main idea of the story that was buried behind his history. That scarf meant something to him. Deeply in every way.

Rayla managed a smile. "That's good," she nodded, bringing her hand down to his, "Feelin' comfortable is nice."

Callum smiled at her. Of course she understood. He tightened his hold on her hand and brought it up between their chests. "Thanks," he quietly muttered.

Rayla winked. "No problem," she whispered. "Now c'mon, we need to hit the hay and I need a big spoon." She released her hand from Callum's as she turned around, scooting back into him. She curled her legs up and adjusted herself comfortably. He knew it wasn't his turn, but he owed her.

Callum smirked. "I got you." He wrapped his arm around Rayla's stomach and pulled her close to his chest. He made sure to tuck his head down low to avoid Rayla's horns, then kissed the back of her neck. With a simultaneous sigh, the two closed their eyes and allowed the slumber to take them.

A solemn silence suppressed the room for a few mere moments. Callum's eyes were wide open. He was still holding Rayla, tightly, closely, to his chest. He looked up from her head and smirked at her horns. Though they were a hassle for nights when he wanted to cuddle, he didn't hate them. In fact, he found them to be downright adorable. Still, being the little spoon was really enjoyable. But he quickly realized the issue within their relationship was that both of them wanted to be the little spoon.

He loved that reached a compromise though. Rayla first offered switching after the first half of every week, and she allowed Callum to have the extra four day. He of course denied the offer and suggested they just switch every night. Things like that made him notice how kind and understanding Rayla was. Nights where he wanted to stay up because he had a sketch he wanted to finish before turning in, Rayla would reluctantly allow him but also would stay up with him, keeping watch over him just in case. Whenever Callum was feeling parched or snackish, Rayla would eagerly pass him a bottle of her moonberry juice or rush off to get some berries.

Callum appreciated that she was always willing to help him in anyway. He made sure to exert the same effort in return. He always made sketches of her to show off and make her feel happy and warm inside, because he knew that it had that effect on her. He always made sure to carry everything and Zym, just so she was ready for anything. Also because he had to do something with himself. He tried to do anything to help. Whenever they had time to stay at motels in towns, Callum would don on his cloak and try to rent a room for the night, acting like an elf. They even attempted a date once in a shop, which was awkward, but very much sweet, to say the least.

Rayla would obviously comment later that his impersonation was downright atrocious, but she appreciated him making an attempt to blend in. In every regard though, Callum knew Rayla was equally appreciative of the efforts he made. But Callum knew that wasn't enough.

Honesty was the biggest thing in their relationship right now.

So, he owed her that much. "Rayla?" he whispered. "You awake?"

"Aye," she softly replied.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "My mom knitted it," he explained. Instantly, Rayla turned around, eyes locked on the boy as her hand returned to his. He managed a small smile. "It was going to be my birthday present for that year…" his voice cracked and his vision suddenly overcome with blurriness. "But… I… we… she—"

"It's okay," Rayla whispered, bringing her free hand up to his cheek, cupping it softly. "It's okay, I get it," she nodded. "Ya don't have to say it."

Callum shook his head. "No, I can, it's… it's behind me," he nodded. Taking a big gulp, he tightened his grip on Rayla's hand. "After we… lost her, my dad talked to me in private. I was young at the time so he tried to explain it as gently as possible. He said he wanted to talk about life… and how that sometimes, there's changes that happen that we just don't expect…" Callum's small smile fell. "I… I remember when he told me, I-I first just felt… confused." He let out a chuckle. "It set in very quickly afterward. There was just… an emptiness all of a sudden. Like… all the warmth inside me just suddenly went cold and I couldn't even feel anything. I felt cold, I felt empty, I-I didn't even understand what I was feeling at the time."

He took another deep breath. "The amount of cold I felt, I just… I was in pain. Everyday from then on I was just wallowing in darkness, sadness, just…" he swallowed hard, "empty." Shaking his head, Callum closed his eyes. Tears began to swell up within them. He remembered that time all too well. "I avoided Ezran for a while, my dad, everyone. I didn't eat much and I couldn't even bring myself to sleep because I cried all the time. I was just… exhausted. Physically and mentally. It hurt to even walk down the halls because I'd always see her. Everyone thought I was too young to understand but I was old enough to know how emptiness felt like."

Rayla pouted as she brought Callum's hand up to her lips, pecking it softly as she thumbed over it. With her other hand, she wiped away a tear as it streamed down his cheek. "It's okay…" she whispered. "It's okay…"

Callum shook his head and smiled at Rayla. "It was bad for awhile… until my dad told me he was cleaning out some of my mom's things." He cleared his throat. "At first, I was mad, like, how could he just get rid of it all so quickly? But… he explained that he was only moving it into storage. He thought it'd be a good idea if I helped. At the time, I didn't get it… at least until we dug through her wardrobe."

::::

"Hey! Callum, look at this!" Harrow called out. Callum looked over his shoulder and found the King to be holding a small sky blue blanket. "Your mother told me she held you in this when you were a baby!" A laugh escaped him as he shook the blanket. "Ahh, I wish I had seen that."

Callum stared at it with a confused look. "Why does she still have that?"

Harrow's smile slightly fell. "Well, because she liked it," he walked over to the young boy, folding up the blanket in his arms. "And because she liked it so much she wanted to keep it." He knelt down before his stepson and gestured the blanket toward him. "Some things are just worth keeping sometimes… because they can bear a great deal of meaning behind it."

Callum looked down at the blanket and frowned. It was nothing. Just a blue, baby blanket. Ezran already had a blanket. It wasn't his mom. This was useless to Callum. It was just something that used to be useful to him. He shook his head and turned around. "I'm going to go through the bottom drawer," he pointed over to her wardrobe as he wandered over.

Harrow sighed as he dropped his shoulders. His gaze flew over to the small portrait painting he had on above the fireplace, it was rested on the mantle. He sadly smiled at the picture and muttered under his breath, "I'm trying, Sarai." He looked back at Callum and watched as he sorted through the drawer. He hoped there weren't any unmentionables lying there, as he was not prepared for any conversations of that regard at the moment.

"King Harrow?" Callum's small voice called out.

Harrow immediately raised his head and looked at Callum. "Yes, Callum?"

"Why does Mom have this?" he turned around, and thankfully, he had a red scarf in his hands.

A sigh of relief escaped the King as he approached the boy. "Oh uh…" His gaze fell down as a smile formed on his lips, the realization had set in. "She made it…" he whispered, "of course she did."

Callum's brows raised. "What? What is this?"

King Harrow chuckled as he knelt down, placing his hand on his shoulder he said, "That, my boy, was going to be your birthday present this year."

Callum's eyes went wide. "Really?"

Harrow grinned. "Really."

His stepson gasped as he began feeling the material. It was soft, like a plush toy. He hesitantly unravelled the cloth, and stare at it in awe. Proportionally, it looked big. Like it could cover his entire face. He moved to wrap it around his neck but stopped, and looked up at the King. "C-Can I?"

Harrow happily nodded. "Of course."

Eagerly, Callum began wrapping the scarf around his neck, looping around him as many times as he could. Eventually, he found himself with a massive pile up of cloth bunched up against his face. Harrow chuckled at the display whilst Callum struggled to find himself a gap to breathe. It… it was warm. He breathed in the scent and his eyes began to water within an instant. Harrow's enjoyment ceased as worry sunk in.

"Wh-What's wrong! Callum?"

Callum looked up at Harrow, leaving the scarf to fall down to his neck. With big emerald eyes he blinked up at his stepdad, fighting back his tears as his lip quivered. "Can I… keep this…" he softly mumbled.

Harrow stared at his boy with wide eyes as he slowly raised a brow in confusion. "Wh-why? I-I mean, you can. Of course you can!" he quickly answered, nodding his head. "You… you like it?" he hopefully smiled.

Callum nodded. In a quiet, small voice, he whispered, "It smells like Mom…"

::::

Rayla began sniffling, with a shaky laugh, she wiped a few tears from her eyes. "Wow… that's… that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard." She smirked. "And ya've said some pretty sweet things to me so far."

Callum chuckled, wiping a tear from his eyes with a grin. "Heh, yeah… I suppose I got it from her."

Rayla nodded. "I bet ya did."

He smirked as he adjusted his scarf, bringing it up to his chin. "It still smells like her… or at least, I think it does."

"Good, 'cause if it still did I think that means ya don't wash it," Rayla joked, laughing.

Callum laughed. "Naah… it's more like, it feels like it's her. Like I always have her with me. It makes me feel safe." His gaze softly widened at Rayla's violet eyes. "Well, safer than I already feel with you."

"I'm glad I can make ya extra safe then," Rayla cooed. She moved up to Callum's forehead and pressed her lips against it softly.

He sighed. "She would've loved you."

The Moonshadow Elf's eyes brightened as her cheeks flushed as red as Callum's scarf. "R-Really?"

Callum nodded.

"I'd swear it on my scarf."

A/N: How was it? I hope it was sad, but also fun. I wasn't gunning for angst but more so just light sadness and fluff. Because I think Rayllum is such a good relationship that they would be open with things like these so easily.

Whelp, tomorrow's Dragon. What it gonna be?

Until next time,

- Bleh