9. The Journal #3
“Come on,” Mrs. Fray said after some time, beckoning her husband and son.
“We’re off to bed.” Mrs. Fray bestowed her blanket upon Noec and passively implied that her daughter would be a piece of human garbage if she didn’t find him a real pillow.
As she left, Noec glanced at the throw pillow beside him, confused.
“Fake pillow,” Davy explained as he hopped up.
“Night,” Flora said as he stretched and walked out of room.
“Night,” Davy called back. “Try not to get murdered. Or pregnant.”
“Thanks,” Flora muttered.
“So, I’ll just... leave you, then,” Mr. Fray said, his feet still planted.
“I’ll be there to keep her safe,” Noec assured him.
Flora rolled her eyes. “He’ll be gone in the morning, Dad.”
“Okay, okay,” Mr. Fray grumbled, following the others out. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” they replied as he shut off the rest of the lights and ascended the stairs.
Flora sighed deeply. Noec did, too.
“You did good,” she said to him.
“You did good too, Pixie.” Noec remained seated with his hand next to hers, close enough to feel but not touch. “I know today hasn’t been easy.”
Flora stared forward at a little blinking red light, stuck ruminating in the dark. She didn’t position herself to sleep. She couldn’t sleep, not in this state of mind.
“So…” Noec whispered after a while.
“So?”
“What is it? What are you thinking?”
So much. She was thinking so much all at once.
“Perri,” Flora said after a moment. She closed her eyes and sighed, not ready to hear the answer to her question. “Did you… kill Perri?”
Noec was silent for a moment. “I... I don’t know,” he said, almost fearful, as though the memory were too fresh in his mind. “I fought back until... until he wasn’t fighting anymore. Then, all I cared about was getting you home.”
Flora swallowed at the sore realization.
“Did it seem,” she began to ask, “like he almost wasn’t there?”
“Maybe,” he said, catching his breath in a sniffle. “Maybe that’s just something we’re telling ourselves.”
She felt her eyes well up as she thought of Perri, and she felt a single tear fall as she thought of his older sister. Flora felt for the journal on the armrest, haunted by what she had read on page 258. She had so much to ask Sona.
Sona is dead.
Flora furrowed her brow and reached desperately for the hand at her side, but Noec had already slipped away. Flora closed her eyes tight, trying to relax, trying to calm down.
There was a loud thunk like he had hit his shin on the coffee table.
“Lunara blind me,” he strained, his shadow continuing to drag the ottoman over to her. “Just when I thought I’d survived today,” he chuckled. “Legs up,” he commanded quietly, and she propped her legs up.
She wanted to thank him, but she feared what the sound of her voice might give away. As Noec settled at the edge of the couch, he paused, catching the sad glimmer of her eyes in the dark.
“Here,” he said, tucking his blanket around Flora like a child. “I’ve got a fake blanket and a few fake pillows for you, too.”
That made her chuckle. There was a sweet sadness in his own eyes, one that made her heart both melt and break at the same time. He hovered above her for just a moment, watching her with a soft smile. For a moment, she thought…
“Thank you,” he said. “For letting me into your life.” Noec sighed lightly and began to settle at her side, adding, “Even if it was under the worst of circumstances… I’m happy to have been here.”
Flora’s eyes fluttered, but her chest still felt all warped inside. He rested his legs next to hers, and together, they stared up at the ceiling in the dark, waiting for the silence in their minds to match the silence above. But, the blessing of numbness never seemed to come.
“Noec?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m... scared to go home.”
“What do you mean?” he replied. “You are home.”
Flora paused and corrected herself, “I’m scared to go to the village. What if they believe I killed her?” With a deep, aching fear, she asked, “What if they don’t want me there?”
“I’ll still want you there,” he assured her gently. “And nobody would ever believe that you’d hurt Sona.”
Perri did, she thought, blinking up at the ceiling.
“Noec,” Flora murmured, a pained sound that threatened tears.
“Come here,” he whispered in response, scooting in closer. As Flora rested her head on his sleeve, a tear trickled onto his shirt. “I’ve got you,” he promised.
Carefully, his fingers unearthed her hand from the blanket.
He slowly turned it over, tracing the lines of her palm as though he were learning her by feel, reading her like a map.
Pressing gently, he massaged her palm in little circles, slower with each touch until Flora’s unsteady breathing slowed along with him.
Noec paused suddenly. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” Flora begged, digging her head further into his shoulder.
“Okay,” he whispered softly, and his voice felt like a warm caress in her hair.
What he offered was a simple touch, and never before had she known a man’s touch to demand nothing in return.
It was just thoughtful—reverent, even—as he kneaded the tension from each of her fingers.
It wasn’t a confession, and it was far from a promise.
But tonight, Noec’s touch was her only serenity.
“Goodnight, Pixie,” he murmured peacefully, and the noises of the room seemed to soften as his touch slowed to a stop.