Chapter Twelve #3
Seb looks back at Thio, having another of their silent conversations, until Seb grunts and pokes me in the chest, more flushed and nervous than I’ve seen him in a while.
“Since I decided I’d like to start having kids as soon as we get married and this fool”—he shoots his thumb at Thio—“agreed for some reason, and I’d like to be a little more put together before I usher life into this world, so yeah, I read self-help books now.
” He picks at a string on my shorts. “And those self-help books all sound like you, spouting your therapizing nonsense. Only a lot of it isn’t quite as nonsensical as I used to think it was. ”
My eyes were already tearing but they heat all over again, and my throat wells with unexpected joy. “You’re going to have kids?”
“Apparently. But that’s far, far off in the future, and what’s here in the present with us is you, and the fact that no, Orok. You’re not broken. That’s where I was, right?”
“Right,” Thio says, and drops a kiss on Seb’s shoulder.
Seb blushes again.
Gods, I love them.
“Anyway.” Seb slaps my leg. “This relationship with Belzaroth—Bel? It makes a lot of sense. You have a massive hero complex. I used to time how long your hookups would last by how much they needed you.”
I scour a hand over my face and snort. “You didn’t.”
“I did. There were a few I thought you’d have more than a casual repeat with, but they always proved too independent.
You need someone who needs you. You need to save someone, like you always tried to save me; only fuck if I’d let you.
” He glares suddenly. “Like, don’t think for a second we don’t know you’re the reason our landlord suddenly redid the entire building’s plumbing and installed a new shower for us. Annual renovations my ass.”
I don’t even try to deny it. Just look down at my hands. “You said your shower was crap.”
“But it’s not your job to save me. That’s my point—you need to be needed, and I’ve always fought you tooth and nail over every little thing. For Bel to come along, this guy who clearly needs you, and he’s open to it? You didn’t stand a chance, my friend. Hook, line, and sink him.”
“Poetic.”
“Thank you. But—” He bends until I meet his gaze again.
“You’re doing fine. Really. Caring for people is not a weakness.
I think part of you believes that because of all that fuckery Urzoth’s church spews about strength in aggression only.
But it’s bullshit. You feel more than anyone I’ve ever met, and it’s your greatest strength.
And that guy in there?” Seb nods toward my room.
“He definitely needs that kind of strength right now. Stop questioning yourself.”
“But what if I’m wrong again?”
I don’t know where the question comes from. It doesn’t even sound like me. It’s brittle and trembling and small, and when I ask it, I get hit by a flash of who I was at Camp Merethyl.
That’s who asked that question.
Teenage Orok, curled up on his bunk at a camp where they’d beat my best friend if I failed.
They tortured us and called it training.
All the doctrine I spent my childhood adhering to—strength in physicality—got twisted against me, and everyone who taught me those original things, my mom and our church leaders, they all told me that if I was truly strong, I wouldn’t be in pain.
If I was truly strong, I wouldn’t let the people at Camp Merethyl hurt me.
Seb cocks his head. “Again? When were you wrong before?”
I try to stand. “I’m tired. I didn’t mean to—”
“Hell no. Sit your ass back down. What do you mean?”
Bel’s right; not being able to deflect sucks.
I drop back on the chair and stare at the coffee table, spread with components for several different protection wards. Thio’s on the couch, and Seb stays at my feet.
“Urzoth,” I whisper. Tears come again; one leaks down my cheek. “I was wrong about Urzoth. What if I’m wrong about loving someone again?”
Because I loved him.
I did.
I was so devoted to our faith. I was obsessed with him—that’s where it started.
My first obsession was Urzoth and I let it consume me, let it own me.
Mine and his in such an intermingled knot that I barely knew where I ended and Urzoth began.
I gave it my everything, gave him sweat and blood and scars and screams.
And when I needed him, when I really, deeply needed help, I got nothing.
I was wrong to trust in that obsessive love. What if I’m wrong about Bel, too?
“Do you love me?” Seb asks, a gentle nudge.
I give him a flat look, seeing where he’s going with this. “Of course.”
“Were you wrong about that, too?”
Sometimes. Yes. I followed him to university. Made him live with me. Used him as a crutch when my night terrors got bad, and he became my security blanket.
But I got two degrees that I did, actually, enjoy.
Did they help me in my career? No, but I couldn’t have foreseen playing pro rawball.
And I didn’t make him live with me; he wanted to every time, and I think he needed it, too.
If he’d been the one having night terrors?
I’d have been his blanket. I’d have done anything he needed. I tried to do anything he needed.
I love him, and I was consumed in him, but it didn’t crush me like it did with Urzoth.
“You’ve been right about loving someone before, too,” Seb whispers. “The better question is: What if you’re right again?”
Tears come ruthlessly this time and I bury my face in my hands. “Shit,” I moan.
Seb rubs my back. “Get to bed, big guy. We’ll throw up these protection wards and crash in your guestroom. If that’s all right?”
I drop my hands so they hang between my knees. “Yeah. Please stay.” It’s always better if he’s nearby.
Seb smiles. “Then we’ll stay.” He stands, groaning as he stretches, and cracks his knuckles. “You’ll want to get gone, babe. I’m gonna summon Nick.”
Seb’s fox familiar gives him magic boosts, but Nick’s invisible and used to announce his presence by biting me. The tiny hat-wearing asshole hasn’t done that in years, thankfully, but it’s still a running joke.
I shudder and undercut it with a smile as I haul myself off the chair.
“Evil fox aside, you’ll be a great dad,” I tell him. To Thio, “You both will.”
Seb beams, nearly shining with the force of his smile. “Thanks, man. And you’ll be a great Uncle Orok.”
I don’t think I’ve ever giggled. I mean, I’m huge. Huge people don’t tend to giggle.
But I do.
Because that image? Uncle Orok. Fuck, I want that.
Seb bursts out laughing, and even Thio snort-chuckles.
I leave them to their warding and head down the hall to my room.
Inside, the curtains are still wide, showing the city-washed night sky; not a star in sight, but plenty of speckled building lights, their own sort of cosmos.
A lump under my blankets is motionless.
I wash up in the bathroom and change into sleep pants before plodding quietly to the bed. The huge mattress dips as I climb in, blankets shifting around the lump to peel back and reveal Bel, wrapped in another of my too-big shirts.
He peeks up at me. His gaze holds questions, eyes reflecting the city lights, but we’ve talked enough today. Done enough today.
“I told you Seb would like you,” I whisper down to him. “Thio, too.”
The edge of Bel’s mouth flickers. “The feeling’s mutual. For both of them.”
I pull him against me and he immediately complies, adjusting until he’s burrowed under my arm, his head on my chest.
“Thank you,” he whispers. It’s massive, encompassing how very much this day has held.
The kiss I leave on his curls has him shivering and moving even closer.
“Sleep,” I tell him, and he obeys.
I wake up the next morning to find Bel in his demon form on a barstool at my kitchen island, helping Thio chop vegetables for omelets and laughing with Seb, Nick presumably curled in Bel’s lap, if the small floating bowler hat is anything to go by.
The simple domesticity of this scene hits me with a sudden certainty: he’s worth it.
All the hookups Seb talked about me having, the years of pushing people away because, yeah, I was terrified falling for anyone would hurt me again—all of that was worth it.
Bel was worth the wait, but he’s also worth the weight, the pressure of knowing this won’t be easy, from the dangers stalking him to my own baggage.
Bel’s smiling eyes lock on me in the hallway, and he lights up even more.
I smile back.