20. Scratching vulnerability with humor
SCRATCHING VULNERABILITY WITH HUMOR
Lor
I leave for the club the next evening right when it opens. It’s been another long day of pointless research trying to find impact sites that I haven’t already scoured. It feels hopeless, and after the big boss man upped his threat level, the pressure is oppressive.
At least I get to see Ro today.
Or… maybe I shouldn’t. He’s relentlessly smiled his way under my skin, and started to convince me that maybe I can have some good things, even if they’re only temporary. But everyone leaves in the end, so is it worth it to put him in danger for my own short-term desires?
My head splinters with indecision, my steps faltering as I turn the corner toward Tempo. Before I can make up my mind, my feet do it for me while my hand pulls open the door.
Ro is bent over the bar, resting his elbows on it while his eyes stare off into space. I pause on the threshold, tilting my head to observe him. He looks more distant than usual, less joyful. My brows pinch with concern as I take in his strange mood.
I slide onto a stool and rest my cheek on my fist, fine with waiting until he comes back to himself.
It gives me a few moments to take him in.
The lines between his eyebrows and around the corners of his lips.
The darker clothing than he usually goes for: navy pants with a tight, blood red t-shirt.
Silver rings cover his fingers as usual, but he wears no other jewelry on his wrists or around his neck.
Perhaps most strange of all—his stillness. It’s bizarre, and none of my business, but I assume something must have him twisted up inside to be so out of it. I’ve never seen that on him before, but of course, we all have our demons.
I internally snort; some of us more literally than others.
Finally, Ro’s unfocused gaze turns my way. His eyes take me in, blink once, and then he jumps, a tiny ball of flame rising from his hand and fizzling out in the air.
“Lor!”
“Hey,” I say, my lips quirking up on one side. Has he always been this cute?
“Hi,” he says, flustered.
A grin finally stretches across his handsome face, and it settles a piece of me that I didn’t realize until now needed settling.
“Gay purple drink?” he asks, raising his eyebrows with exaggerated hopefulness.
I roll my eyes, but nod. “Sure.”
He springs into action, no hint of the vacant, disconcerted mood I sensed when I first sat down.
“So, what brings you in today, my lovely little Starfire?”
I shrug, glancing around at the empty bar and club.
I suppose that’s to be expected, as it’s fairly early on a weekday.
My fears are still hounding me, intruding thoughts reminding me how dangerous it is to be seen with him, that I’m going to get him hurt or worse.
I take a gulp of the shimmering drink and immediately regret it; whatever is in this is more suited to sipping than chugging.
“Can I get a shot?” I ask.
Ro eyes me, then nods once. He reaches beneath the bar and fills a shot glass without breaking eye contact. Why is that so hot?
I look down at the tiny glass, willing my heart to steady, then throw it back. Ro’s eyes are still on me. I can feel them, but I’m avoiding meeting his gaze. I guess I’ve got some demons of my own I’m battling with.
“What’s going on, Lor?”
I shake my head as my throat closes. I’m unable to get a single word out as my emotions surge and—to my horror—my eyes prickle as my sight turns blurry.
“Sweetheart,” Ro murmurs, quickly rounding the bar to my side. He takes my hand and pulls me from the stool, gesturing at someone with his other arm. I fix my gaze on my feet as I let him lead me to a back room.
As soon as the door shuts, he envelopes me in his arms. I try to turn away, but he easily tucks my head under his chin and sways us side to side. My body slowly relaxes into his as his steady pulse thumps beside my ear.
I don’t know the last time I was held and comforted like this, if I ever was. Did my mom ever care enough to? Did she even notice when I needed it?
“You can tell me anything,” Ro says, his voice soft as he lays his cheek on the top of my head.
It’s hard to swallow, hard to breathe, but I force myself to do both. I have no idea where it comes from, but at some point, part of me must have decided to trust this demon.
“I’m afraid,” I whisper.
Ro tenses for half a second, then his muscles relax against me again.
“Afraid of what?” His voice is careful, perfectly neutral.
“Being a star-chaser… It means I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t know when. I don’t know how fast. But it’s the one thing I know to be true. All star-chasers go mad, or well, I don’t think that’s the right way to say it—going mad—whatever you want to call it.”
I chance a glance up at him, seeing his brows furrowed in confusion. Like he was expecting something else. I look away to give myself the courage to continue.
“My life is dangerous, but even if it wasn’t, it still wouldn’t be fair to make you part of it. You’d have to deal with my madness, and there’d be nothing you could do about it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Ro. It would be awful for us both.”
My voice trails off into a dejected whisper, but he replies immediately. “That’s not true at all.”
I stiffen. How could he say it’s not true? It’s the only thing I have no doubt of. One of two truths I’ve been told my entire life. The only thing I’ve fully accepted—all star-chasers go mad.
“You might lose your mind, go insane, whatever. I don’t know what the right thing to call it is either. But you don’t get to tell me what’s fair. You don’t get to decide for me what I want, or what’s best for me.”
I jerk back to stare at him as my thoughts spin. His face is open, raw with determination and so much passion it almost makes me take a step away.
“You think I can’t handle what you might someday be like?” He scoffs, a wry tilt to his lips. “Lor, have you met me? I’m the literal definition of crazy. Wild. Weird. Wacky. Out of control demon, right here.”
He points his thumb at his chest with the last sentence and I blink, trying to catch up.
“If anything,” he continues, “that makes us a better match.”
He finally pauses—boy has some lungs on him—and gives my head a chance to process everything he just said.
“A… What?”
I’m still processing, obviously.
Ro nods decisively, tugging me back to his chest, and bracketing a hand on the back of my head to cradle it under his chin again.
“Yep, the more I think about it, the more I know I’m right.” His voice is arrogant, and far more assured than he has any right to be.
I scoff into his shirt, and his chest hitches with a suppressed chuckle. I hate to admit his strategy is working.
“After all, I’ll need a partner who can match my level of crazy,” he says.
That gets a short laugh out of me, and I turn my face up to his. “Your level of crazy, huh? What, like stalking me?”
Ro turns sheepish, his eyes darting to the side before meeting mine again.
“Yes, well, that… among other things.”
He shifts me into his side, still hugging me with one arm while rummaging around in his pocket with the other. When he finds what he’s looking for, he holds his hand up between us with something dangling from his fingers. It takes a moment for the sight to register.
“Is that my bracelet?”
I reach out, but before my fingers make contact, he jerks his arm away with a literal, godsdamned hiss.
I gape at him, my mouth falling open as I stare in shock.
Ro cringes and pulls away, cradling the bracelet protectively to his chest with an apologetic look in his eyes.
“Shit, sorry.” He fights with his instincts as his fingers clench, and he forces himself to move his hand toward me, as though to give the bracelet back.
With gentle fingers, I take the silver strand from his hand.
“No,” I whisper, clasping the bracelet around his wrist instead of my own. “It’s okay. You can keep it.”
Ro freezes, his eyes leaping to mine as I gaze up at him. I see myself in his eyes. My heart is thundering in my chest as I wonder what this means, what’s happening, if I’m already losing my mind.
I clear my throat, a scratchy jolt of sound jarring us both back into the present.
“Is this what you meant by ‘among other things’ then?” I ask.
“Yeah, so uh, I kinda have some other issues besides just …stalking you.”
He stumbles over the word stalking, and it shouldn’t be nearly as cute as it is. He runs a hand through his already messy hair, avoiding eye contact with the admission.
My emotions are going haywire, and I feel like I could sleep for a week from this conversation alone. At the same time, I’m lighter, more energized with every moment. I want to soak up each of his words and lock them in a box to keep them safe with me forever.
“I have some klepto tendencies, and… Um… Pyromania is a thing I struggle with too.”
Ro shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but I know him too well for that now. Tension lines his eyes, and his fingers are fidgeting with the bracelet.
“I’ve already got issues, so I know what it’s like. You don’t have to try to protect me from you, Lor.”
His eyes meet mine, dark with emotion, and I suck in a breath. Then his skin starts to flicker like it’s lit from below, prompting me to look down. There’s a flame cradled in his palm.
My eyes widen and I take a step back.
“It won’t hurt you,” he whispers. “I would never let that happen.”
“I…” My fingers itch to reach for it, an urge I’ve never experienced before. Surely this must be the star-chaser curse eroding my mind already. “Can I touch it?”
Ro nods and his gaze lightens, a tenuous smile touching his lips. I dip my fingers into the flame and feel only a slight warmth, like sun rays through a window.
“Fire is the hardest,” he murmurs. “My demon always wants me to set things on fire, but I can control what I allow it to harm. Most of the time, anyway.”
He closes his fist, dousing the flame, and his expression shutters. I don’t know what to make of it, other than the fact no one has treated me the way he does. Like I’m special, like I’m trustworthy, like I matter and deserve… goodness.
It’s baffling and confusing, and the only way I know how to repay it is by sharing more of myself in return.
“Maybe…” I whisper, unsure what I’m trying to put into words. “Maybe.”
Ro nods, perhaps understanding better than I do.
He steps back, then walks over to some stacked boxes a few feet away.
I look around, realizing we must be in a storage room.
It’s lined with metal shelving units, boxes and supplies stacked on the shelves and along the back wall.
He sits on a box and pats the one next to him until I sink down on it.
Then he dances a small flame across his knuckles and between his fingers.
“What’s it like?” Ro asks, eyes on his flame. “Your call to the stars?”
“It’s a curse,” I reply without hesitation, my voice bitter.
Ro frowns, and the flame stills on the back of his hand before he rolls it into his palm. Then his eyes meet mine as he tilts his head in question.
“This undeniable compulsion. I have no control, no power. It’s something beyond my physical body.
I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. Like my soul itself needs to be close to the stars, but I can’t manage that, so the best I can do is find the ones that fall.
Rescue the stardust from the earth and treasure it, at least until…
” My voice trails off, and I hope he didn’t catch the grief that started to seep into my tone.
When I glance at him from the corner of my eye, he looks thoughtful.
“That sounds remarkably similar to my demon urges.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “My therapist is treating it similar to OCD, since I have obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors, even though it’s not the same. But it feels deeper than that. Like you said, something in my soul. A need that isn’t being met.”
He shakes his head with a self-deprecating smile before continuing.
“Although, it’s been better since I started following you. Stalking you, I mean,” he chuckles. “I was trying to be politically correct.”
I roll my lips between my teeth and bite down on them. “I don’t think that’s a thing,” I say dryly.
Ro huffs a soft laugh. “Even using the word ‘stalking’ settles my demon side, which is frustrating. I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t like how it feels like I have no control over myself.”
I contemplate that, empathizing with him far more than I expected to.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice soft. “Yeah, I get that.”
Ro’s flame blinks out, and he moves his hand closer to me, right next to my leg, then flips it up.
I eye it for a long moment, glance at him, then turn my eyes back to the far wall as I place my palm in his.
He twines our fingers together, palm to palm, sending a tingling warmth up my arm.
Then he looks straight at me and grins. I can see it from the corner of my eye.
“Stop it or I’ll take it back,” I say.
“Too late, you already gave it to me,” he says, tightening his grip. “This is my hand now.”
My lips twitch, but I’m saved from admitting anything when there’s a shout from the hallway.
“Ro! Customers!”
“Ah, that’s Finn. Gotta get back out there.”
Ro sweeps his thumb across the back of my hand, then squeezes it once. I reluctantly let go, and he slaps his palms against the boxes as he stands. Then he spins around with the most manic grin I’ve seen yet.
My eyes widen as my heart skips a beat. My defenses are ready to shoot up again.
“Ro…” I say, wary. “What’s that grin for?”
He saunters backward to the door as he replies.
“Just imagining what it’ll be like when we’re both happily mad together in our old age.”