I would have insisted he stay in bed, but I could no longer focus as I hurried to the bathroom, jumping over the puddles of water that remained on the floor from my feeble attempts to douse the fire last night.
Graysen and I met back in the hallway at the same time, he was buttoning up a new shirt to cover the alluring softness of his chest. Strands of twisting black hair hung in his eyes as he looked down to where his fingers worked.
“You could have stayed in bed,” I offered now that I was no longer panicking at the thought of pissing myself. “Or at the very least, kept your comfortable flannel on.”
He grinned up at me. “My new morning routine has been bringing me comfort. It’s bad enough that I wasn’t up before you to begin tasks for the day. I’m behind on my self-imposed schedule.”
The kitchen counter was a wasteland of glasses, sticky spills, and discarded tools. Despite Graysen’s insistence that he would take care of it, I began sorting things into their expected destinations: Dirty dishes in the sink, alcohol in the glass-fronted liquor cabinet above the stove, spices on the designated wall-mounted rack, and unused ingredients left out overnightin the waste bin. I used it as an opportunity to remind myself of what each liquor was called, and the composition of each drink. Graysen listened and nodded approvingly, occasionally contributing his own reminders or corrections. Once the surface had been wiped clean, I conceded by taking my usual seat at the counter.
“What should I wear on the job?” I asked, picturing my wardrobe in my head. Nothing felt appropriate for the environment. Not that I knew whatwasappropriate.
“Whatever you’d like.” He looked up from the counter where he was deftly chopping vegetables. “I understand I haven’t provided you many options.”
“Do you think the stores would have more variety for me?” Why had I spent the last week pouting around the house when I could have been preparing for my eventual employment? It wasn’t like I was going to let myself lose that argument.
He frowned. “The closest clothing market is half a day’s round trip. I could go for you, but I wouldn’t make it back in time for your first shift.”
I hummed, tapping my blunt fingernails on the counter. “Do you think Mykie has anything appropriate?” If I’d only seen her summer wardrobe, I wouldn’t bother asking, but a handful of her winter outfits had… potential. She certainly had more fashion sense than I’d been able to form yet.
“She might,” he reflected, his eyes briefly drifting in thought. “If you’d like, I can drop you off with her to prepare for your first day. Her house isn’t far.”
“Yes please,” I smiled. He was being surprisingly supportive given his initial reluctance to entertain the idea of me working. His current attitude felt healthy—normal, even. What had been the issue in the first place? I suspected it had nothingto do with me; Graysen’s trauma was deeply rooted in all areas of his life. What mattered to me now was his willingness to face those anxieties so I could be more than a domesticated house pet. Becausethatrole was out of the question.
Following breakfast, I tugged on some boots and slipped Graysen’s heavy tweed jacket over my shoulders. Graysen wore a brown leather hide tunic with a thick olive-green scarf wrapped around his neck. Knowing the cold wouldn’t be affecting him, I smiled. His choices were purely for fashion alone. The way he maintained his preferred aesthetic was endearing.
We strolled in a comfortable silence while I took in the snowy village. I was captivated by howstillthings were. There were a couple of Lychan and a Quadmos already up, I could see them collecting newspapers and shoveling their sidewalks, but for the most part, there weren’t many signs of life yet. The fresh snow was yet to be sullied by dirty boot prints and streaks from wheels. Faint starlight peered through the low mauve-gray clouds above us, a clear indication that this world hadn’t been awoken just yet.
We couldn’t have walked much more than a mile before we reached a row of connected tin-sided houses. Each section was a different color, with the panes of metal overlapping to form jagged edges where one home met the other. Smoke puffed out of pipes on the sloping, snow-covered rooftops. The quality of housing seemed lower than what I saw around town, but the smell of savory food and the sight of carefully arranged decorations created a feeling of comfort and community. The residents of this neighborhood clearly cherished their homes.
I followed Graysen to the aged metal door of a blue unit. It was the sole home on the strip without a touch of individuality; nobody had bothered to make it their own. Theblack mailbox bolted to the siding was overflowing with letters, adding to the feeling of abandonment.
Graysen knocked. “Mykie, it’s me!”
Nobody answered. I was preparing mentally to return home and select an outfit from what I had available when he reached into his pocket and removed a rusty brown key. It took some finagling to wiggle into the lock, but it clicked smoothly once settled. He pulled the door open and gestured for me to step under his arm through the doorway.
The townhouse was dim and dusty. Cloudy streaks of light escaped through the cracks of its shuttered windows. Although reluctant to have any rude thoughts about the home of someone I was about to ask a favor from, the space felt oppressive. The suffocating energy in the air could be sliced with a knife. The front door let into a combination kitchen-dining area. There was hardly a cleared surface in sight, with scattered newspapers and writing utensils creating the impression of madness. I had never seen Mykie lost in her own head, but this was the home of somebody who never left it.
Graysen frowned. “I apologize. It was… managed the last time I was here,” he whispered. “I’ve been a bad friend in not stopping by.” His brows furrowed with concern as he less than subtly examined the carnage while continuing forward.
I watched my feet carefully in the dim lighting to avoid tripping on discarded debris. One of the many papers littering the ground stuck to the sole of my boot. I peeled it off, reading its title, “The Science of Energy: Dr. Gable Discusses Innovation Efforts”.
We turned the corner into a seemingly unused sitting area. This furniture didn’t have the same layer of clutter, I was surprised by its luxury. Her curved couch was large and covered in white fur pelts. The coffee table was a frosted glasswith golden rims. Against the wall was a stand-alone fireplace constructed from stone and a brown metallic alloy. The only consistency from the dining area to this living space was the remains of her vices.
“Fucking hell, Graysen.” The raspy voice caught me off guard. Mykie’s exclamation violently severed the still silence of the room. “Maybe announce yourself next time.”
I spun around to find Mykie standing only a few paces behind us. Her gait was usually so commanding, but clearly she could be quiet when she wanted.
“We knocked,” Graysen said carefully.
She switched a lamp on in the corner, filling the space with artificial yellow light. “Is everything okay?” The voids of her eyes bore into us, seeking the answer before we could respond.
Graysen rested a hand on my back. “Faeryn starts her job today. She’s not sure she has the right clothing.”
“I need something bartender-y,” I confirmed, smiling awkwardly.
“Damn, Theo didn’t hesitate,” she grumbled, rubbing a stilettoed finger in circles on her flat temple. “Take a seat. I’ll throw together some options.” Her hand loosely waved at the elegant couch.
“Can you walk her to work?” Graysen rubbed his hand on my shoulders, as if to assure me this would be fine. “I need to go to the Southwest Market today to purchase some new bedding.” My cheeks flushed at his confession. I wasn’t sure what Mykie would assume, but I still felt exposed.