Chapter 7 Reyes
Reyes
Seated cross-legged on a stretch of rock, Nyx nibbled his way into that first bite of muffin like a bird.
He pecked off a piece so tiny I wasn’t even sure he’d be able to taste it.
But then his face lit up. Those pale sage eyes went wide as he licked his lips, a flash of rose-pink tongue scooping up the dusting of crumbs left behind.
A sweet little groan of pleasure built in his throat, but it was muffled by the absolutely enormous mouthful he took next.
His eyes closed, and his cheeks pushed out like a squirrel storing its food for the winter, and I was giddy.
A lifetime of hard work was wiped clean by that moment, and suddenly, that damn muffin was my greatest accomplishment.
The highlight of my life. His face smoothed, unburdened by its usual heaviness, and I wondered if someday it might always be that way.
He insisted on sharing, so I agreed to take a muffin from the box and treated it as a precious thing even though I baked it.
It was special because it was a gift without strings or expectations.
Something that gave him joy when there’s been so little of it to be found in his life, and he shared it with me.
We didn’t talk as we ate, just were. We watched the leaves sway in the evening breeze, and listened to the sounds of the forest, and neither of us tried to fill the silence.
Nyx was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and I was fascinated when he scattered crumbs along the rock behind him.
Birds that normally wouldn’t come within a hundred feet of us landed on the rocks.
They bounced on their funny little feet and scooped up the treats he left for them, and I taught him the species I knew.
Cardinal and Robin, and yes, they’re capitalized because those are their names, and he was thrilled to use them.
They seemed thrilled too.
In the week since that first time, we’ve eaten together twice.
Nyx hasn’t initiated, but when I show up at his door with food, he doesn’t hide his excitement.
His eyes ignite, something akin to a smile lifting the sides of his lips.
I collect those tiny gestures, those nearly invisible signs of his happiness, and cherish every one.
Tuck them away safely in my memories, where I can play them on repeat.
On those nights, we trek through the forest to our spot.
Our spot, alone in the woods where no one can burst our private bubble.
I fight the whispering voice in my head that wants to beg him for more, and plead for any scraps of himself he might give me.
That wasn’t part of our deal, and it isn’t fair of me to demand anything of him when he has so little to offer.
So, I wait, and I enjoy our quiet evenings together, gorging myself on those tiny lip twitches and the honeysuckle scent of his hair. I get drunk on the pleasure he takes from the food I bring him. We spend time together until he gets restless, and then we say goodbye.
Both nights, I’ve found another rock waiting outside my doorstep. They feel like a message he can’t find the words to say—a way for him to say thanks. Smooth-edged and shimmering, they rest in my windowsill along with the first, and I cherish those, too.
But now I have another excuse to seek him out, and a better reason to ask for his company.
Sweat slicks my palms as I fist one and swing it towards his door, hesitating for a moment before his near-silent footsteps approach.
His face appears in the crack as he opens it, and he immediately looks at my hands.
There are no snacks this time, and his obvious disappointment makes me grin.
His eyes lift to mine once more. They’re still heavy with the weight of every hidden thing from his past, but they are lighter now than I’ve ever seen them. His cheeks are fuller, and the harsh lines that scored his forehead have softened.
Nyx peeks around my side as if I might be hiding a snack behind my back, and I can’t help it as a laugh slips free. He flinches like he always does at a loud, unexpected noise, but he’s unafraid when he looks up at me, if a little sheepish.
“Hi,” he breathes, and I snap myself out of my stupor as I realize I’m staring.
“Today is harvest day,” I blurt, and his brows pinch like they do when I’ve said something he doesn’t understand. “Most of the plants are ready to pick, and I thought you might like helping.”
“The food plants?” A flicker of budding excitement shines in his eyes, and gods, he’s so fucking sweet. I want to tuck him into a blanket fort and feed him treats until he’s content. My lips press together as I try to hold back my laughter, and I succeed, if barely.
“Yes, the food plants. I gather the ripe vegetables when I spot them, but right now, there are a lot ready to be picked. Cameron and August are setting up a station for canning.”
“Canning?” His head tilts, and I nod excitedly.
Harvest has always been one of my favorite times of the year.
It’s the reward for those endless hours of hard work.
Sore muscles and dirty fingernails, sun on the back of my neck, and baskets of colorful bounty serving as a prize.
The sense of accomplishment that comes from the contribution.
It’s my way of protecting our people.
“Canning is where we store the food in glass jars,” I explain. “When we heat the jars, it preserves what’s inside them… keeps it fresh for a long time. That way, even when the plants aren’t growing, we have vegetables to eat.”
“And you want… my help?”
“Only if you want to help.” My smile is soft as he bites his lip, but then he nods. He takes a step closer, out of the shadows of his cottage and into the morning sun.
“I do,” he insists, but his gaze drops to the ground, and I follow his eyes to his bare feet.
They’re as green as the grass that reaches onto the path, and his toes curl against the dirt.
“It is time I…” He pauses, like he does when he’s trying to remember a word. “Contribute,” he finally settles on.
“That’s a good word,” I say, and he lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “You shouldn’t worry about that. No one expects anything from you, you know.”
“They should. I always take.”
“Maybe that’s what you deserve,” I say, and his eyes flick up to mine. “So much has been taken from you. It’s your turn to be selfish. Grow your flowers and eat your snacks and just… just be, Nyx. Learn what makes you happy and make that your focus.”
“What makes me… happy?” He blinks thoughtfully, tilting his head and looking down the path. “The garden makes me happy.”
My smile breaks through at the admission, and I nod encouragingly. “That’s really good, sweetheart.” His eyes blow wide at the same time mine do at the slip, and he swallows roughly as my lips settle into a nervous line.
“And...” He trails off, glancing away.
“And?” I hedge, wanting to hear more of his joy, but he only shakes his head and shuffles between his feet. Recognizing the signs of an impending shutdown, I shift the conversation back to where we started. “Do you want to harvest the garden with me?”
“Yes, I want to help,” he says with a nod.
My mouth opens, ready to tell him how happy I am to spend the day with him, or maybe how proud of him I am for stepping out of his comfort zone, but he speaks before I can give the words life.
“Do I…” He gestures at the ground between us, and I furrow my brows as I try to interpret.
“Do you what?” I finally ask.
“Need shoes?” Fuck, my heart cracks again at his uncertainty.
“Do you want to wear shoes, Nyx?”
“No.”
“Then don’t wear shoes.”
His body language has shifted to wringing hands and slumped shoulders, shuffling and screaming his insecurities with every tiny movement.
“Do you not think I am strange? Barefoot and quiet and, and…” His fingers move to his hair and push through the long strands as he shakes his head. “And damaged.”
“We’re all a little damaged, Nyx,” I say carefully, fighting my urge to reach for him. “But if it makes you feel less alone, I have a simple solution.” He takes a series of deep breaths, hands still in his hair as I kick my shoes aside and peel off my socks.
“What are you…”
I crinkle my nose at the tickle of the grass touching my soles, and I flex my toes against the ground.
They’re not the prettiest feet, not like his, and an annoying patch of black fuzz grows sporadically on my big toe…
but right now, that doesn’t matter. “If you’re worried about being strange, then we’ll be strange together. ”
“To-together?” Crystal droplets build in his eyes as they land on mine and stick, staring at me for longer than he’s ever maintained eye contact.
“Yeah, fuck it,” I say with a shaky grin that feigns nonchalance, pretending that my heart isn’t trying to beat its way straight out of my chest to fall at his sweet bare feet. “Let’s be weird together.”
It happens then.
Nyx smiles at me.
Fragile, uncertain, and paper-thin, but it’s there.
It’s there, and, gods, if it isn’t mine.
Barely more than a lift of the corner of his lips, it crinkles his eyes and plumps his cheeks.
Even the teardrop leaving an emerald trail along his skin doesn’t take away from the radiance that lights his face.
“Okay,” he says in his quiet, breathy way.
“Yeah?” I ask, my own smile spreading until my cheeks ache.
“I think… I would like to be… weird with you.”
“Alright then.” I give him room to secure his door, and the top of his head barely comes above my shoulder as he steps close to my side. An idea hits me as he glances up at me. “Stay here for just a second, okay? I have something for you.”
He nods, and I dart into my house to unearth a few forgotten bags of things stuffed underneath my bed.
The yellow-gold color snags my eye, and I grin, pulling it from the bag before jogging outside again.
Nyx stands where I left him, watching me closely.
Curious little thing. It makes me stifle another smile as I approach.
His eyes dart to my hand before bouncing back to mine in silent question.
The floppy straw hat is smashed from its travels in my bag, and I push the dents into place as best I can.
“Can’t have you getting too much sun today, can we?
” He watches me intently, and I almost fold under the weight of the trust in his stare. “May I?”
He dips his chin for me to place it, and the brim is so wide, it sags until it nearly touches his narrow shoulders.
His head tilts further than normal to peek at me from underneath.
Dark shadows cover his face, but those eyes…
those damn eyes sparkle in the darkness like they have their own light source.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, and a shuttering breath pushes from his nose.
“I have never been beautiful.”
“You can’t possibly believe that.” I throw all my conviction into my voice as I shake my head. His hands tremble as they tuck his hair behind his ear, exposing that pointed tip. It’s so long it brushes the woven straw brim.
“Beauty did not matter there,” he says, and I try not to be overwhelmed by his mention of that place. His hell on earth.
“Of course it did,” I argue, and he blinks at me, once again silently asking the question. “Not the sort of beauty that comes from pretty faces and flowing hair. Some people are beautiful inside, where they do the best they can to make this awful world better.”
He considers this with a conceding nod. “Like you,” he says, then ducks his head to shield himself behind the hat. I’m second-guessing my decision to give it to him, since it makes it easier for him to hide. But I don’t have to see his face to know how his cheeks burn.
“Like you, too,” I finally say, before my lips pull up in a slight grin. “Though you’re cute on the outside too.” His head whips up with his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open, and his adorable surprise makes me chuckle. “Come on, Nyx. The plants are waiting for us.”
Another hint of those tiny smiles flickers on his lips, and we set off towards the gardens side-by-side and barefoot.