Notto
There’s no such thing as a beautiful storm. Not when they have the power to resurrect a past that shouldn’t have happened. Storms need to be avoided at all times. No discussion.
We barely make it into the library before the storm settles overhead. I’m practically carrying Drystan as he falls into a panic. Nothing triggers his trauma like a thunderstorm. I’m not sure if it’s the lights, the electricity in the air, or the thunder.
The more violent the storm, the deeper he falls into the horrors of his past.
His eyes are almost entirely white as he collapses on the floor with his hands over his ears.
His horns have been replaced by a massive rack of antlers.
Spikes appear down his back, shredding his shirt.
His skin is like muddy water, somehow both murky and transparent at the same time. There’s a fog that hangs around him.
I shove the doors closed, securing them so they won’t be blown open by the wind.
Another burst of lightning, then a thunderous BOOM fills the room before the lightning has completely died down.
Drystan screams again, curling further in on himself.
His body becomes more transparent as his antlers grow.
The spines on his back glint with a threat in the hints of light.
I wrap around him, careful to avoid his poisonous spikes. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “Just a storm. Nothing else. I promise.”
Keary’s there in the next second. Together, we sandwich Drystan between us. Together, we assure him over and over again that there’s no one else here. No one will ever hurt him again. He’s safe. It’s only a storm.
The storm rages on while Drystan continues to break down. His body becomes more and more defensive as he tries to fight off the abuse that’s just a memory.
But with a soul, the past and present can live together. They can move around you like one solid timeline. Everything happens together.
In moments like these, I know that Keary loves him.
I can hear it in his voice. I can see it in the way he tries to protect Drystan from reliving his past. I can feel it in how tightly he holds Drystan.
It’s careful, so he doesn’t hurt our sweet soul, but secure, making sure that Drystan feels him and knows he’s there.
If I didn’t see moments like this when Keary dropped his stubborn act, I’d have left him a long time ago. If he could actually convince me that he doesn’t want us, I’d do as he keeps saying and leave him alone.
But it’s all a lie, and the longer he drags it out, the deeper the fracture between us grows. Our monsters want to bond. They want to mate. I know full well that Keary feels it. There’s no way he doesn’t.
What I don’t know is why he insists on being a pain in the fucking ass about it. I don’t understand why he refuses to accept his damn mating. It’s not a lack of attraction. It’s not a lack of emotional attachment. I know everything it’s not. I just don’t know what it is.
I’m left more confused and frustrated each day because he’s willing to mate with this new human fucking pet. He’s willing to give this human everything he’s refusing to give us, and it’s driving me absolutely insane.
Why?!
If I were a different monster, I’d blame the human, but I’m old enough to know that matings aren’t a choice. You love who you love. That’s what a mate is. It’s love. Instant, consuming, infinite.
My frustration with Keary was so damn loud that it distracted me from feeling the same draw toward the human pet. I still don’t feel it to the fullest extent because I’m fucking frustrated with Keary’s goddamn stubborness and refusal to accept this.
I can’t give my attention to the pull toward the human pet right now, especially since any attention or interest either Drystan or I show him only sets Keary off. I’m jealous of his possessiveness for the human pet. I want that on me!
The storm is slow to move away. Drystan is slower still to come out of horrors that his mind has conjured around him.
It breaks my heart that there’s nothing we can do to prevent this except avoid storms—which we typically are much better at.
Our fucking fighting is what led to this moment.
We’ve been so distracted with this boiling pot around us that we missed reading the atmosphere.
“I’m sorry,” Drystan whispers. His hands cover his face. He’s crying so hard that his tears drip from between his fingers.
“Don’t ever apologize,” Keary murmurs, gently massaging Drystan’s skull. “Everything is alright. You’re safe. We will never let someone hurt you again. I promise.”
Drystan sniffs. His breathing is hitched as he struggles to make a full inhale. His entire body shakes.
“I hate storms,” he whispers.
“I know,” I tell him. “We should have been paying better attention to keep ahead of the storm. That’s our fault.”
Keary nods, resting his forehead against the side of Drystan’s head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to ignore the weather. I didn’t mean to let a storm catch us off guard. I’m so sorry.”
Drystan nods as his shoulders rise a little in a shrug. “Not your fault.”
“It is my fault,” Keary says. “I’ve been so damn angry at you both that I didn’t do the one thing I promised I would, and that was to keep us out of storms. I didn’t mean to break that promise.”
It’s not entirely Keary’s fault. Drystan and I haven’t stopped poking at him for the past couple weeks, continuing with our plan to keep him well-orgasmed at night as a means to seduce him into accepting us.
Maybe a little morally gray, but fuck, I’m tired. I’m tired of aching. I’m tired of pining. I’m just so fucking tired of hanging in limbo because Keary is being an asshole.
“Is the storm gone?” Drystan asks.
Keary kisses the side of his head then lets him go. “I’ll check. Hold on.”
He stands and unbars the door, poking his head out to study the sky. I realize that Rainer and Kaida are sitting on the floor in front of us, their faces holding strangely similar expressions. Deep concern.
When it gets really bad, when we’re in the middle of a hurricane or too close to a tornado, Drystan’s mind will drudge up his memories so vividly that we can actually see them move around us. We can see the same horrors he does. The torture he lived through.
There’s nothing worse than that. For any of us. I’m glad this wasn’t one of those times.
Keary comes back. “It’s a break in the storm,” he says. “Come on. We’re going to find you somewhere better to keep out of it.”
Drystan whimpers. I help Keary get him to his feet. Drystan stops short when he sees Rainer there, and a new kind of horror fills his face.
“What can I do?” Rainer asks.
“Is there a basement here?” Keary asks.
Rainer looks around and shrugs. “I can look.” He turns away then disappears around the corner with the lut at his side.
“He saw me like that,” Drystan complains. “He probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”
“He doesn’t,” I reassure him.
“Rainer wants to help,” Keary says. “He’s worried about you.”
Drystan doesn’t believe us. He has this constant fear that everyone who witnesses his breakdowns think he’s pathetic. Weak. Disgusting.
I have a feeling these are words that were often repeated to him when he failed to do as he was told. They’re the cruelest words that can ever be said to him now. He has such a deep fear of hearing one of them directed at him. It’s his biggest insecurity.
Keary and I struggle to get him to move, but he’s rooted to the spot.
Fear of the storm and fear of what Rainer thinks of him are preventing him from moving.
Without physically picking him up, we have no choice but to wait until he is either propelled forward on his own or is at least marginally convinced that his fears aren’t true.
Our human pet returns. “No basement, but there’s a room without windows. I can barely hear the rain in there. It might dull the noise of the storm, if that’ll help.”
“It will,” I say.
“Tell Drystan what you feel right now,” Keary says when Drystan still refuses to move.
Keary’s words make him tense, and his breathing becomes stuttered again.
Rainer isn’t sure what Keary’s asking, but I know Keary worded the request that way so as not to lead him into saying exactly what Drystan needs to hear. Drystan is never convinced if we point someone in the direction that’s needed.
A beat passes, and I want to hurry Rainer along. I’m sure he’s beyond confused by this entire situation, so I try to keep my patience with him as he reads the room. Eventually, finally, he steps forward and places his hands on either side of Drystan’s face, gently coaxing Drystan’s eyes up.
“I’m scared for you,” Rainer says. “I feel a little helpless because I don’t know what I can do to help you when it’s clear you’re in pain and terrified.
I feel… restless because I need to do something, and finding a room that isn’t quite what you need feels like a failure. I don’t know how to fix that.”
Drystan takes a breath, and his eyes squeeze shut for a second. He practically lurches forward when a distant rumble of thunder gives warning that a second wave of the storm is well on its way.
“Where’s the room?” I ask.
Rainer turns around, and we follow him. Drystan practically runs, his entire body humming with nervous energy. I can practically feel his stress turning into fear again.
The room Rainer brings us to is an archival room. It’s designed to protect the contents from everything—fire, weather, human destruction. Strange that such a small library in an equally small town would have a room of this quality, but right now, I’m simply thankful for it.
Rainer’s right. The sound of the rain hammering on the room has dulled. As soon as we shut the door, the room is plunged into darkness except the constant flickering of the light breaking through my skin and Keary’s sunny eye shine.
“Come here, Rainer,” Keary says.
There’s shuffling around, then Keary’s hold on Drystan is replaced by Rainer’s.
“Where are you going?” I demand.
“I’m going to find a book,” Keary says. “And a flashlight. Maybe if I read a story, combined with the room hampering the noise, it’ll be enough to keep Drystan in the present.”
“Hurry up,” I tell him.
“Yes, commander,” Keary mutters as he leaves the room again.
“So insolent,” I mutter.
Rainer snorts. “You guys are exhausting,” he says. “I don’t understand how you have the energy to constantly fight all the time.”
Ah. That’s why he left the house.
“Because he’s being a pain in the ass,” Drystan says, sighing. His weight leans heavily on us. I can feel it in both directions, which is kind of impressive.
“No offense, but neither of you help the situation. Every time the fighting stops, one of you—mostly Notto—can’t just let it rest. You have to say something to piss him off again. Why?”
Drystan doesn’t answer. Why? That’s a good question.
“I’m sorry,” Drystan says. “I guess I didn’t realize… I bet it is exhausting for you.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Rainer says. “Most of the time, I don’t care, but I really don’t want to be involved in whatever this is. When the storm is over and Drystan feels safe again, I’m leaving.”
“You don’t dare say that to Keary, do you?” I muse.
“No. I have a feeling he’ll just follow me.”
“He’s going to follow you anyway,” Notto says.
“Don’t have any delusions that you’ll be able to lose him for long.
He’s a monster, pet. He’s a damn god that gets his magic from the sun.
The sun that reaches every single place on this Earth.
He will find you, and it likely won’t take more than a day to do so. ”
Rainer sighs. “You’re fucking exhausting,” he repeats, resigned.
“I know,” I admit. “We’ll… figure this out. I’m sorry too.”
“Good. Now that you’ve all apologized to me, maybe you ought to try these conversational skills in a civilized tone with each other and talk about it.”
Drystan snorts. “Right. Did you know gods are hot heads?”
Rainer doesn’t get a chance to answer. The door opens, and Keary returns with a flashlight and a book.
“I brought a fairy tale, an epic fantasy, a monster romance that promises tentacle fun, a dystopian adventure, though I think that might feel too real at this point, and… a dirty romance. What’s your fancy, Drys? ”
Drystan gives his weight entirely into my side, sighing. Rainer huddles in close. His lut settles her long body into our laps, offering Drystan her comfort.
“Is it an original fairy tale or a child-friendly retelling?” Drystan asks.
Keary examines the back of the book. “I actually think I managed to pick up my favorite kind of fairy tale—a gay retelling. I think we can all agree that succulent women-holes are lovely, but there’s nothing hotter than two swords crossing.”
“Two. Three. Four. More,” Drystan agrees. “Notto has all the holes we need anyway.”
“You can have holes when we need more, too,” Keary says. “You’re the best of everything.”
I kiss the top of Drystan’s head, trying to hide my smile in his hair. Neither of us point out that he lets his walls down when Drystan has a panic attack. We see his truth loud and clear.
I’m sure even Rainer does right this second too.
Keary settles in sitting across the room with his back propped against the wall and begins to read. I’m not sure if it’s his voice, the story, or the fact that for right this very second there’s no arguing, but something has us all feeling at peace with each other.
This is how we’re supposed to be every single day. I simply don’t understand why Keary insists on fighting it.
I study him in the contorted light of the flashlight and try to puzzle out the answer. You can’t tell me that he prefers fighting. I know for a fact that he would rather we be here with him than actually give him what he says he wants and leave.
We’ve done that before, and he was even angrier with us when we eventually caught up again.
Rainer’s hand lands on mine, and in the dark of the room, I link our fingers together. One thing’s for sure. If Keary doesn’t want to lose our human pet, we need to work this out as soon as possible.
If Rainer thinks Keary is exhausting now, just wait until he sees a monster-level tantrum.