Quiet Burn (Discordia University #2)

This Is Not An Apology

Kit/Kat

S ince the crown revelation, I decided I’m not speaking to any of them until I can calm down. I mean, what’s the fucking point of all this ‘we don’t want to draw more attention shit’ they keep spouting when they have to parade me around as their shared date with a fucking crown on my head? No one in the seven fucking rings of this damn place is going to miss that shit. It would be bad enough with the dudes in Discordia around, but there will be girls at this damn thing.

I’ll admit I don’t have a lot of experience with them, but that’s because we suck ass at this age.

Obviously, I’m being fair by including myself in that statement, though I know I’ve tried like heck to figure out what the secret code is to getting them to leave me alone in the past. I didn’t try to make friends or to beef with the requisite shitty female groups at any of my schools—which included both ‘popular’ girls and the more ‘indie’ girl groups. None of them wanted me, which was fine, but even the misfits used their evil powers to make sure I was miserable.

The psychology of the disenfranchised bullying the more disenfranchised is fascinating and horrible at the same time.

“I’ve never understood it, Dottie,” I say absently as I lie on my bed reading my Intro to Supernaturals texts. “Why the fuck do the non-conformists want to form their own conforming group to shit on people? I mean, I guess it’s because humans are pretty caste-oriented, and everyone wants to belong, but it’s such hypocritical crap to pretend you accept everyone then actively work to keep people from your cool kids’ table.”

Dottie’s mouth draws in and I almost think she’s wrinkling her nose in distaste, but that can’t be. Kinkajous can’t do that, right? I don’t think so, but then, Dottie’s a pretty unique animal. Luckily for me, she hasn’t gone bonkers about being cooped up in our room, though I did crack the window so she could scramble onto an outcropping on the dorm building to use the potty. If it hadn’t worked, I would have had to find a way to keep my room from getting stinky, but Fate smiled on me for once.

The tiny rodent chitters a response that I take as agreement, and I sigh. “Discordia has assholes, but at least they’re pretty obvious about it. More violent, sure, and that’s fucking scary, but it’s not like my old school. I’m not fending off both guys being dicks and the passive-aggressive shit from the girls. Though, I probably didn’t help myself by not seeking out people who didn’t fit those molds because of my own shit…”

I’m not being fair, and it’s just as crappy as the idiots I’m grumbling about.

A loud knock on my door makes me narrow my eyes and stop flogging myself over my inability to reach out to others in the past. “What? I said to leave me alone!”

“You will eat.” There’s a huff and a grunt, then the sound of something being placed on the ground in front of my door. “Do not make me violate your space.”

“Great,” I mutter as I run my fingers over Dottie’s head. “Guess that’s the big guy asserting his boundaries.”

Dottie shakes her small hand at me and I think she’s trying to scold me this time. She’s not wrong; I am overreacting a little, but the mixed signals are making it hard for me to know what to do. I have enough trouble reading shit as it is, but with the extreme amount of intrigue in Hell, I’m being ping-ponged back and forth every time something new and freaky happens. There’s no way to predict when these things will happen, and I can’t even control my reactions to them. Adding new dimensions—girls from other schools, fancy demons, adults—is making my entire body petrify.

It would help if they’d all quit leaving shit out—intentional or not.

Setting my companion aside, I roll to my feet and trudge over to my door. I put my ear against the wood, listening for a clever demon waiting outside. When I don’t hear anything, I open the door a crack, then enough to take the tray full of food from the floor. It’s covered by a metal catering lid and I smile a little as I close the door. There’s a black feather in the small flower bundle tied with a cord that has bells on it. Shiny and full of random objects? That’s definitely Oriel.

I walk over to the bed and remove the lid, chuckling at the odd colored eggs and bacon-like strips shaped in a smiley face. That’s Salem, and I have to remind myself that no matter how cute these morons are, I’m annoyed. Taking the plastic off the small fruit and crunchies bowl that is obviously for Dottie, I set it on the bed for her to dig in. Her happy chitters and squeaks make me smile as I examine the rest of the shit on my tray.

A small QR code… Zavida. The silverware is tied together with a sparkly edged blue plaid fabric… X. Then the cloth napkin folded into an impossible looking building… Anton.

“They’re not going to give up, huh, girl?” I asked Dottie. She looks at me wide-eyed, her small hands shoving fruit into her mouth until her cheeks puff out. Laughing, I wag my finger at her this time. “Chew, woman. I don’t know if Dr. D knows rodent CPR. I can’t have you choking to death.”

Dottie obviously has no problem with the guys, and that makes me want to reconsider my demand for space. She wouldn’t let them get away with shit if they were pulling a fast one. So I’m probably overreacting, just like I thought earlier.

“Crap.”

I need to eat this food, then find the guys and apologize for being such a spazz. The tension from X having to measure me, the fight earlier, and my deep seated fear of this dance becoming some Carrie-esque nightmare pushed me to accuse them of hiding something they probably forgot about.

Well, except Oriel, but I think he was… trying to help?

Damn it, I’m going to have to tell that hulking prick I’m sorry, too.

This sucks.

I was hungry as fuck, and I’ll have to thank Slash for his gruff mother-henning, too. That makes me even grumpier about this whole damn thing, but I’m not a hypocrite. I’ve demanded the guys behave like they had a modicum of emotional intelligence multiple times. There’s no universe where I’m going to allow myself to act differently simply because it sucks. That’s not who I am, nor who I want to be.

Gathering up Dottie’s stuff and mine, I grab the tray and cock my head at her so she follows along, I trudge to the door with a sigh.

Time to face the music.

When I open the door, I’m surprised to see every damn one of them positioned in spots around the room. Someone switched the fucking caliphate furniture from Jasper’s room to ours, making the space a bit more crowded, but leaving the chair I adore open. They look at me with expressions ranging from trepidation to concern as I march over to the kitchen, disposing of garbage then putting the dishes in the washer. No one speaks when I make my way to my chair, standing in front of it with my hands clasped nervously as Dottie climbs up to perch on the arm.

“Ahem. I…” I lick my lips and square my shoulders, looking each of them in the eye before I continue. “I’m sorry I overreacted to the stupid crown thing. Shutting you out for an honest mistake wasn’t very mature of me, and that deserves an apology, especially as no one even tried to call me out on it. There were reasons—an overwhelming day, lots of new information, internalized fear of the unknown, and my issues—but those are not an excuse for behaving as poorly as I’ve lambasted some of you for.”

Salem and Oriel grin slightly, their eyes glittering with approval, and it makes the tension seep out of my frame. When no one interrupts, I go on, “Slash, thank you for helping keep me from bad habits with food, especially with my new… requirements. I’m grumpy about it because I have trouble allowing people to help because I’ve been abandoned in the past. X, you’re being so accommodating about my shit and taking time out to give me the right things, and I appreciate it. Zav, you’re trying very hard to make up for your bullshit and I see that. Anton, you often provide rational balance during emotional times, and it’s very helpful.”

The guys I mentioned all dip their heads in acknowledgement and I swallow hard as I turn to Prince Fuckwit. He’s definitely struggling not to smirk, which I guess is another point in his favor. “Jasper… you’re a raging dick most of the time, but I sort of get why. I’m not forgiving you for the bulk of your crap because you don’t deserve it, but I am sorry I was rash with this decision. And I appreciate you not making it worse when I did.”

His lips curve a bit, and he stays silent for a moment, then finally says, “Apology accepted, shrimp.”

I sigh, a weight lifted off of my shoulders as I collapse into my chair. “Fuck. Being an adult sucks ass, for the record.”

“Ah, but you’re quite skilled at it, Kit Kat,” X says fondly. “I doubt any of us have ever had such a direct and heartfelt apology in our long lives. It’s not really a demon thing to admit wrongdoing.”

“Makes you weak,” Jasper grunts as he looks at his tablet.

That explains a lot, but it doesn’t let him off the hook.

Dottie stands taller, waving her fist at them as if to challenge that claim and I chuckle. She’s not a wilting flower, even if she isn’t a hulking predator. I pat her on the head before I respond to X, “Thanks. That was years of therapy speaking and as you said, demons aren’t into that.”

Slash shifts in his chair, looking at me closely. “How are the injuries from yesterday?”

Of course he’s not going to say anything back in front of the rest of them.

“Doing better. Overnight, most of it seems to have healed. Is that… normal?”

The big guy nods. “It is, as far as I am aware.”

“Definitely,” Oriel says as he stands up and stretches. “Want a drink, KK? I’m up.”

Something tells me he wasn’t planning to be, but I just admitted I don’t take help well and I probably will want one soon enough. Hell is fucking dehydrating, and I didn’t notice until I didn’t have Slash poking me every time he saw me with a water. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“He can learn,” Salem says playfully and I glare at him. “Don’t be salty, Kit Kat. I’m teasing you because you’re one of us.”

My chest constricts and I’m left with my mouth hanging open as the most intense ache pulses within me. I’ve never really belonged and with one simple, throw-away remark, the panda demon just put a huge band-aid over my pain. It doesn’t heal me, obviously, because that takes time, but… the balm his words put on my foster kid ‘Fisher King’ wound is palpable.

“Um, thanks,” I mumble as I tuck myself into the chair to let that realization flow through me without a big show. “That’s… cool… of you to say.”

Oriel comes over, handing me both my books from my room and the drink with a smirk. “Thought you’d want these, too, since we’re all studying and shit.”

Damn him for being able to read my fucking mind somehow.

“Double thanks?” I say in a gravelly tone. I’m still recovering from the brick to the face from Salem’s acceptance and the lack of protest, even from Prince Pissypants so I’m not very verbose.

“You should probably wear the crown while we work this weekend. You know, to get used to it.”

My eyes whip to the damn dragon, shooting daggers his way and regretting my appreciation from earlier. “I certainly will not.”

A chorus of agreement with him, followed by explanations of why it makes sense wear me down without a fight. I promised to be an adult, and I guess dumbass royal cosplay is part of that.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.