Seven
Elon squinted at the crumpled piece of paper in front of her. It was almost impossible to read the dark, eloquent handwriting with how violently the hand that held the note trembled. Frustrated, she snatched it out of Thomas’s fingers and inspected it herself. She squinted at it and furrowed her brow.
​
I have returned, brother.
​
The girl looked up at her friend. Thomas, pale and visibly shaken, was standing in her bedroom doorway. He fidgeted restlessly with his hair. Elon’s eyebrow perked upwards.
​
“Is this a prank?” she wondered. “ I didn’t know you had a brother.”
​
“I don’t!” Thomas shot back, his eyes wild.
​
Elon hummed. “Then why are you so freaked out?”
​
The question caused Thomas to let out a humorless laugh. He pressed past her and wandered into her bedroom with his usual boldness. Elon watched as he fell backwards onto her bed, his legs dangling off from the knee down. He folded his hands over his chest and stared at her ceiling.
​
Following suit, Elon shut the door and crept onto her bed alongside him. She sat upright with her legs crossed and looked down at Thomas’s face. She could not recall a time that he had looked so distressed.
​
“It was that rabbit guy,” he groaned.
​
The girl pointed to his neck and winced, noticing the dark teeth marks circling his skin. “Are you sure it’s not a vampire? What happened to you?”
​
“That’s unrelated!” he protested, lightly swatting at Elon’s hand. “I have intel that it is not, in fact, a vampire.”
​
“Wait-- are you dating a vampire?” she pined.
​
“Dating?” Thomas laughed. “Elon, you are too pure. I’m just messing around with one, it’s fine.”
​
Elon raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
​
“It’s fine!” he repeated. “She’s one of Isaac’s friends, so if she kills me it’s his fault.” He rolled his eyes at the interrogation.
​
There was a starry look in her eyes. “Is it Eden? Or does Isaac have different vampire friends?”
​
Thomas was amazed. “When did you two meet?”
​
“Whenever Isaac got attacked by those vampires. She helped me get him into my car and told me she’d take care of the ones that got away.”
​
“You met a hot vampire girl and didn’t immediately introduce her to me?!” Thomas asked, putting on his best Elon impression as he mimicked her verbiage from the night in question. “Unbelievable. I thought we were besties.”
​
While the bit was clearly entertaining Elon, Thomas suddenly remembered the paper he was holding and snapped back to reality.
​
“How did we get this off topic?” he stressed, flapping the sheet in the air. “Can we talk about my creepy stalker note?!”
​
Elon apologized and plucked the paper from his hands. She inspected it carefully, mulling over the theory in her head. “What do you think he wants? More importantly, do you think he has you mistaken for someone else?”
​
The faerie snorted. “I am unmistakable, Elon.”
​
Thomas rolled over and finished leaping onto the bed, folding his legs underneath him as he knelt on the bed. His hands busied themselves by prodding at the soft pink comforter.
​
“Besides,” he began. “Did you see the hole on the note?”
​
Elon glanced back at the page. There was a thin tear near the top of it that was wider in the middle. She nodded.
​
“Paper sure is fragile,” she observed.
​
“And knives are sharp,” added Thomas. “That’s what was holding it in place, by the way.”
​
“Yes, I pieced that together.” Elon smirked at him, but looked away nervously once she realized that Thomas was not joking. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a gift?”
​
Thomas’s face darkened. “It would be a rotten gift,” he mumbled. “It’s iron. I can’t touch it.” His seriousness faded for just an instant as he said, “Which reminds me! I need you to remove it from my door for me. Whenever you’re free.”
​
Ignoring what she perceived as a joke, Elon’s eyes widened. “So they know you’re a faerie?”
​
He nodded gravely, watching Elon putting the pieces together. The puzzle in her head solved, all amusement left her face entirely. Her eyes were full of fear and sadness as they carefully observed him.
​
“They know you’re a changeling, too.”
​
When she acknowledged Thomas’s fear, he hunched over and buried his face in one of her pillows. After making a loud, muffled moan into the pillow, he turned his head so that Elon would be able to hear him.
​
“Based on the iron, I’m assuming there’s some faerie hunter around here that’s targeting me,” Thomas noted. “Whoever it is is probably trying to scare me with the whole brother thing. Obviously, even if my birth family didn’t come back for me because they hated me, they wouldn’t have an iron weapon with them.”
​
Something wasn’t adding up in Elon’s mind. She pondered on the topic in silence, all the while with Thomas looking to her eagerly for answers. She couldn’t help but shrug at him.
​
“This guy knows a lot about you, then, to know that you got left behind.” Perhaps she could have worded it better. “Moreover, if it is just a random faerie hunter, why are you their first target? I haven’t heard of any of the fey going missing or winding up dead.”
​
Thomas shook his head. “I can only guess,” he admitted, “that it’s because changelings are some of the most hated faeries by humans.”
​
Elon’s eyes floated over to the wall. “I guess that makes sense. Either way, I won’t let anyone hurt you, obviously.” She looked back at Thomas and smiled warmly. “I’ll be nearby, okay?”
​
Thomas closed his eyes and relaxed. The affirmations were apparently the ones he needed to hear. His usual coyness was beginning to work its way back into his features.
​
“I have one more request for you, my absolute hero,” he said. His eyes were still shut, his head softly cradled by the pillow below.
Elon perked up and leaned towards him and agreed. His breathing was slowing down, growing heavier. She waited for his appeal, but quickly recognized that he was fast asleep. She sighed, then carefully made her way off of the bed and stood up. Observing him in his slumber, Elon smiled softly.
​
“Yeah, yeah,” she said quietly, “get some rest.”
​
​
--
​
​
Mornings were always pleasant to Isaac. He enjoyed their quiet peacefulness, their fresh energy. Thomas, however, was notorious for his refusal to wake up before noon. Despite this knowledge, Iris, Ifrit, and Isaac were all waiting for him to arrive. The witches were meeting with an important faerie, and with an inside joke that Isaac was excluded from, they were adamant about introducing her to him. Thomas had also shown interest, according to Iris, and heavily insisted that he join them on their venture into the woods. Yet, despite her vouching for him, her brother was growing impatient.
​
“I don’t feel like waiting for him much longer,” Ifrit admitted. “It’s not like he doesn’t know where we’re going, anyway.”
​
His sister flashed him pleading eyes. “Just a little longer?” she asked.
​
As usual, her request was begrudgingly granted with a glare. She smiled, thankful, and then turned back towards Isaac.
​
“You grew up around here, didn’t you?” she asked.
​
He nodded.
​
“I’m surprised you haven’t been in the woods much, then!” Iris commented. “Ifrit and I practically grew up in them.”
​
“Rissy, normal kids aren’t usually encouraged to go hang out in the woods.”
​
This was shocking information to Iris, who stared back at her brother in disbelief. When she realized he was looking elsewhere, both she and Isaac followed his gaze to find Thomas coming into view. He waved with both hands. When he was close enough to greet them, however, Isaac frowned.
​
Irksome, half-lidded eyes stared at his neck. “Are you serious.” It was not a question.
​
Though he tried to fight it, Thomas cracked a wide grin. Isaac waved a hand at him, utterly miffed, but intent on ignoring whatever mischief he had been planning. Iris and Ifrit took the bait, and Isaac tuned out the brief conversation they had about his encounter with Eden. Iris was the only one who seemed to notice his discomfort-- or rather, she was the only one to not take pleasure in it-- and changed the topic.
​
“We can leave now, right?” she asked.
​
Ifrit nodded and the two of them led the way, following subtle markers that had been placed throughout the branches. Isaac tried to note them, but kept getting distracted whenever Thomas was in his view. The only thing he discerned about their trek was that they were being led deliberately away from the blighted plants that had been attracting demons, which was a small relief.
​
As they approached the clearing, two figures came into view; a tall, thin female with a vintage-looking dress and a shorter blue-haired boy hiding in an oversized hooded sweatshirt. He was visibly younger than the rest of them. They had been happily chatting to each other, both grinning and occasionally laughing, but stopped when they noticed they had company. While the girl kept her friendly visage, the boy’s expression hardened and he looked off to the side, tilting his face away from the intruders as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Nevertheless, the taller of the two greeted them as they drew closer. Iris and Thomas eagerly waved back.
​
“Good evening, how wonderful!” she exclaimed. To her side there was a grumble.
​
“This is Vivianna,” Ifrit explained.
​
“Ifrit, dear! You are so formal,” she responded.
​
“Is that a joke?”
​
“Perhaps,” she mused. “But if I am amongst good company, you may call me Viv.”
​
“Is she a faerie?” asked Isaac, noticing her pointed ears. Thomas snickered.
​
The last word he said caused Viv to flinch slightly. “How rude,” she reflected, though she did not look all that offended. The boy next to her shuffled uncomfortably, though he still seemed to be averting his gaze.
​
Iris chimed in quietly from his side, tugging on his sleeve. “They prefer you call them fair folk, you know.”
​
Feeling out of his element, Isaac quickly grew flustered. “But Thomas doesn’t seem to mind--”
​
“Thomas is the exception, not the rule,” Ifrit groaned. The changeling nodded.
​
“It’s true, I am exceptional.”
​
Viv snickered. “I suppose you must be Isaac, then?” she narrowed her golden eyes at him.
​
He swallowed nervously and nodded.
​
“Celestial entities are always caught up in their own isolated world, are they not?” she looked over towards the blue-haired boy as she spoke. He did not move.
​
Ifrit had been watching him carefully since they approached. “You’ve brought your friend, I see?”
​
Viv nodded, regarding the boy as though he were a pet. She lovingly placed her hand on his head and ruffled his hair, turning his face beet red. “This is my darling, Kit.”
​
Upon being formally introduced, Kit finally turned his face towards the small group of newcomers, though he was still not looking at any of them in particular. The angle change was enough, though, for Isaac to catch a glimpse of why he was turned away from them.
While the right eye was a normal, human-looking green eye, his left was so unnaturally bright that it looked radioactive. To top it off, the pupil was a vertical slit, as though it belonged to a cat.
​
Or rather, thought Isaac, as though it belonged to a demon.
​
“Are you wearing Halloween contacts or something?” asked Isaac, beginning to tense.
​
“What do you think?” retorted Kit, his words sharp. He was staring Isaac in his eyes now, making it clear that the horrible eye was, in fact, real.
​
Viv’s face lit up and she shot a knowing look towards Thomas, who shuffled to stand beside her.
​
“You’re a demon, then?” Isaac inquired, his face scrunching up with genuine disgust. For a moment, he forgot there were more people around them, though Iris was the only one who looked uncomfortable.
​
“I’ve got a bit of demon blood in me, yes,” Kit spat back, stepping closer to Isaac. The younger boy was a fair bit shorter, a fact that was more apparent the closer he got. “Is that a problem?”
​
“Clearly,” scoffed the taller boy. “Look at you, it’s like your corrupted blood isn’t even integrating with the rest! You’d be better off plucking that cursed eye out of your head and hoping that it doesn’t spread anywhere else.”
​
The vitriol in Isaac’s voice was shocking. Iris opened her mouth to interject, and began to step towards the two, but Ifrit put a firm hand on her shoulder. When the siblings made eye contact, she relaxed. Viv and Thomas were whispering among themselves about something, intrigued by the confrontation.
​
To Isaac’s surprise, Kit smirked at him, though his eyes were blazing.
​
“You think so?” asked the blue-haired boy, his feet separating from each other as he balled his hands into fists.
​
“Yes.” Isaac met the challenge as he glared down at Kit. “In fact, I’ll pluck it out for you.”
​
“Clever,” mocked Kit.
​
Though he had been anticipating some kind of altercation, Kit somehow still caught Isaac entirely off guard when he slammed his forehead into the taller boy’s face, an alarming crunch preceding the warm burst of pain that forced his hands up to grasp at his injured nose. Without wasting any time, Kit had already dipped low, and with one swift sweeping kick, successfully toppled Isaac as he lost his balance and fell harshly onto the grass below, unable to brace himself with his preoccupied hands.
​
Back to the ground, Isaac gasped in pain, his eyes reopening just in time to see Kit crouch next to him and firmly press his boot into his neck. He choked at the sudden pressure on his throat. His vision felt blurry. All he could focus on was the demonic left eye that was staring down at him, glimmering and half shut, silently laughing at him. He moved his hands from their spot on his face to grip the boot, but found it unmovable, despite Kit’s smaller size.
​
“Holy shit,” murmured Thomas.
​
Overflowing with embarrassment at being so unprepared, Isaac decided he was allowed to kill the boy. He was, after all, a demon, and a dangerous one at that. He felt his eyes burn, now illuminated under the shadow Kit was casting.
​
Above him, Kit cocked his head, looking pleased. “There we go.”
​
A spear of light sprung from his hand and shot up towards Kit, but he expertly dodged it. Still, it was enough to move most of his body weight off of the foot that was pinning Isaac down, and he was able to wriggle free and awkwardly scramble back up.
​
Regaining his footing, Isaac felt his confidence returning as he jabbed and slashed with his spear. Kit was bobbing and weaving out of the way, but Isaac kept on him, keeping the distance short between them. Frustrated at the fact that none of his hits were connecting, Isaac lunged with his empty hand, grasping for Kit’s collar to hold him still. Instead, Kit sidestepped the hand and pivoted, pressing his body close to Isaac’s as he faced away from him. Both of his hands tightly gripped Isaac’s outstretched arm and pulled forward, continuing the momentum and flipping him over Kit’s shoulder, landing back on the ground with a familiar thud. The crashing pain broke Isaac’s concentration as his spear disintegrated.
​
Though he was aching and back on the ground, the corner of Isaac’s mouth twitched upward as he noticed Kit standing in front of him rather than pinning him down this time. Isaac sat up weakly to see Kit disapprovingly inspect a slash that cut the fabric of his oversized sleeve. He tugged off the sweatshirt, revealing a T-shirt underneath and bandages spiraling up both arms. He gripped his right bicep with his opposite hand.
​
Isaac got back to his feet, once again, feeling the job was almost complete. He let out a victorious laugh. While the cut might not be serious enough to kill Kit, it would definitely be working to rot away at his flesh, likely leaving his right arm immobilized.
​
“Ah, shit,” Kit grumbled, “you got me.”
​
Without even acknowledging that Isaac was back on his feet, threateningly posed, Kit pulled away his left hand. As expected, it came away with a dark stain, but what was underneath it made Isaac freeze in his tracks.
​
There was, in fact, a cut on Kit’s arm; blood visibly pooled and dripped for it. Nevertheless, it looked minor, as though a normal blade had simply grazed it. The skin surrounding the wound looked entirely undisturbed. Isaac shivered in disbelief. The boy was clearly a demon. His awful eye, impressive strength, and discolored blood proved it. His celestial weapon should have burned him. It should have festered the skin it touched.
​
Angry and puzzled at the situation, Isaac furrowed his brow and lowered his stance. Seeing the shocked look on his face made Kit perk up.
​
“You’re not catching on, are you?” he asked.
​
Figuring it must have been some kind of fluke, Isaac sprung back towards him, concentrating purely on trying to grab the boy. Unexpectedly, Kit shot out his left palm, the one covered in his own blood, towards Isaac’s. When their hands connected, both boys gripped tightly. Instantly, Isaac realized that his outstretched hand was beginning to itch and burn.
​
With a short cry, Isaac aggressively pried his hand free from Kit, who had a smug look on his face. The action was thankfully enough to throw Kit off his balance, at least for a moment. Knowing he didn’t have time to baby his burnt hand, or even to question what had happened, Isaac managed to get close enough to ball both of his fists tightly into the collar of Kit’s shirt, swiveling him and shoving him against one of the many thick tree trunks around them.
​
Isaac let go with his right hand as he materialized a shorter dagger, its shimmering brilliance reflecting in Kit’s concentrating eyes. The shorter boy grabbed the remaining arm that pinned him to the tree, clawing at it to free himself, the left one burning Isaac’s fabric and skin as he did so, but it was too late. Isaac thrusted the dagger upwards towards Kit’s chest.
​
From there, all Isaac knew was he saw a flash of blinding white, and his dagger stopped short, as though it had hit a wall between them. Blinking and scanning what was in front of him, Isaac desperately struggled to piece together what had just happened when the white blur flexed and flung him backwards.
​
Stumbling away from whatever had interfered, Isaac was able to see from a distance what had occurred. In front of him, Kit was standing proudly, his arms crossed over his chest, as three narrow seraphim wings protruded from the right side of his body, partially obscuring him from view. Isaac’s eyes widened as he found his shaky feet stepping further away from the boy, even as the wings faded into the air.
​
“You’ve never fought a Nephilim before, have you?” Kit asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
​
Though he felt lost as to what he was supposed to do, Isaac remembered the fact that he had successfully pierced his skin before and frantically tried to slash at Kit with the dagger he still held in his hand. With all of his tricks revealed, Kit wasn’t holding back anymore, and was manifesting wings expertly between the dagger and his body, flicking them outward to find new openings to strike.
​
After several punches and kicks landed on his body, Isaac was feeling weary and drew back, visibly shaking from exhaustion. Yet, looking at Kit from more of a distance, seeing his mismatched traits of both angelic and demonic blood, Isaac felt his stomach turn and his blood boil.
​
“You’re corrupted,” he spat, “an abomination!”
​
With what was left of his strength, Isaac jumped back in and thrust the small blade forward, towards Kit’s core once again. Instead of meeting another wing, Kit sidestepped the boy and grabbed his offending arm, twisting it as he moved behind him. He grabbed the other arm from where he stood and tackled Isaac from behind, toppling on top of him as he sent Isaac to the ground for a third and final time. Now he was face down, tasting blood and grass, with both of his arms restrained behind him. He felt Kit’s knee digging into his back.
​
Powerless as he was, he couldn’t help struggling again when he heard what sounded like metal being unsheathed. Kit was holding a small pocket knife against Isaac’s neck, the blade kissing his skin as he strained to move away. Knowing he couldn’t get any further, Isaac froze and squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating what was coming next.
​
“Just remember,” came Kit’s voice, so quietly and so close to Isaac’s ear that he was sure nobody else would be able to hear him. “You were trying to kill me, and I’m letting you live. Tell me,” his grip loosened a bit, but Isaac sunk further into the ground. “Which one of us is really corrupted?”
​
Kit’s weight was lifted off of Isaac. He drew his hands close to his chest and propped himself up slightly, but remained on the ground for a moment longer. Only when he remembered that they had an audience did he stir, his face burning with shame. He refused to look at any of them, but knew they were staring at him, and could hear them prattling amongst themselves. Thomas was groaning about what sounded like a lost bet, Viv was congratulating Kit, Ifrit seemed to be murmuring something incoherent to himself, and Iris, in her delicate and concerned voice, was calling Isaac’s name with the inflection of a question.
​
Ignoring them all, Isaac got to his feet, and skulked off in the opposite direction, assuring them he’d find his own way back home.
​
--
​
Elon had been buzzing about a double date for ages, it seemed. As much as Sam hated the idea, she was still eager to see Elon more, and thus compromised. Now, here they were, waiting for Elon’s friends to arrive, at the dimly-lit table of a nearby bar.
​
Given how much Elon loved surprises, she refused to tell Sam who was invited. She had been anxiously watching the door for the discovery, and once it opened, she cringed. In walked Thomas -- who was already bad enough -- with a slender brown-haired girl. Distant memories crept back to Sam and she jolted at the sight. Elon waved at both of them warmly.
​
“Where do you two know Eden from?” Sam asked, keeping her voice low. “She gives me the creeps.”
​
“What! She’s so sweet though!” As passionate as she was, Elon was still keeping her voice down, too. “She really helped out a friend of mine. It’s a long story.”
​
Sam narrowed her eyes, remembering a distressed Isaac. “She really hurt a friend of mine, I think," she said. "I had a weird and uncomfortable introduction to her.”
​
The two were headed their way now, and Elon was staring at Sam with her large, brown puppy eyes. With immediate butterflies, Sam sighed and looked away.
​
“Look,” she said, “she can come out with us, but maybe keep an eye on her. As much as Thomas annoys the fuck out of me, I’d rather not see him get hurt.”
​
Elon beamed. “Aw, Sammy! That’s really sweet of you. Maybe you two should talk or something!” She leaned in, smirking. “I mean, if you know something--”
​
With a hand in the air, Sam cut her off.
​
“It’s not gonna work, Elon,” she said. “That ship has sailed. I’m sure he’ll let you know if anything fishy happens, anyway.”
​
As Eden and Thomas approached the table, Elon leapt up to hug them each warmly. Conversely, Sam remained seated as she lifted her glass to drink from it. Her eyes bored into Thomas the entire time, and when he noticed, he gave a knowing smile. He sat down across from her and they both watched as their dates fawned over each other.
​
“Eden! It’s a pleasant surprise to see you!” Elon said, holding both of the other girl’s hands in her own.
​
“Oh my god, Elon!” she responded. “Small world, huh? Makes sense, though, Thomas totally reminds me of you. You two have such similar mannerisms, it’s alarming.”
​
Sam stifled a groan.
​
“We’ve been friends for a long time!” Elon said, giggling to herself.
​
Eden winked. “Believe me, I can tell.”
​
The blonde turned towards Sam. “What do you think?” she asked. “Are we really that similar?”
​
Though Sam smiled, her eyes were still half-shut. “I hope not,” she said.
​
Eden piped up before Elon could protest. “Hey, the chocolate shop across the street is closing soon. Wanna grab some strawberries before they throw them out?”
​
In response, Elon gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Why are you me?!”
​
With pleading eyes, Elon looked towards Sam. She smiled at her, giving her the permission she was apparently seeking. After promising to return shortly, the two girls rushed out of the bar and disappeared behind the closing door. Sam and Thomas were left behind, staring at each other from across the table. Thomas looked smug, as usual, and Sam wondered if Elon had left them alone on purpose. She leaned back in the booth and crossed her arms.
​
“What’s up with your scary new girlfriend?” she asked.
​
“What, are you jealous or something?” Thomas asked with an infuriating smirk, his eyes narrowing. He leaned over the table, propped up on his elbows. “You missed your chance, Sammy, let it go.”
​
Sam didn’t budge. “I will beat the shit out of you right here and now, Thomas. Don’t tempt me.”
​
Despite the scarf Thomas was wearing, Sam caught sight of new bruises and marks on his skin. She stared at him, something clicking in her mind. He was caught off guard by her relaxing and softening her tone.
​
“Are you poking a bear with a stick again?” she asked.
​
“So you know she’s trouble, too?” Thomas’s eyes slid sideways, away from Sam. There was still a smile on his face, but it had lost its sincerity.
​
“Elon’s the only one who doesn’t. And frankly, you have a horrible track record with your dates.”
​
Putting the glass to her mouth, Sam took another drink. It proved to be poor timing.
​
“You would know, huh?” Thomas asked.
​
Choking at the implication, it took a while for Sam to regain her composure. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scream at him. Instead, she opted for apathy.
​
“God, you’re annoying,” she murmured.
​
This pushed Thomas to lean back against his seat, the distance growing between them. “And you’re boring now. It’s a tragedy.”
The boy crooked his neck to look at the door behind him. When he looked back at Sam, the humor had returned to his expression.
“But yeah, it would be kind of horrifying if they actually became friends,” he suggested. “It’s incredibly unlikely, though, I think Elon’s just a little infatuated with her.”
​
Unsure as to whether or not Thomas was trying to hurt her, Sam flinched at his suggestion. She dropped her eyes and her posture followed suit. Immediately, Thomas backtracked.
​
“I didn’t--” he stammered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
​
Sam sighed. “I know.”
​
“She really likes you, Sam.” Thomas was sounding far too sincere for her liking.
​
Both of them perked up when the front door opened again, followed by the familiar giggles of their dates. Elon wasted no time bouncing back over to the table and taking a seat next to Sam. She gave her a small peck on the cheek, making Sam blush.
​
“Eden is amazing!! They just gave these to us for free!”
​
Elon held out a box of chocolate covered strawberries and set it on the table in front of them. She quickly flipped off the lid and eyed them thoughtfully.
​
“I know the owner,” Eden said, “he’s cool.”
​
“I brought you some!” Elon made her selection and plucked one of the darker strawberries out from the box. “You like dark chocolate, right?”
​
Sam accepted it, feeling flustered. “Oh, yeah. How did you know?”
​
“You mentioned it when we first met!” Elon said.
​
“You remembered?”
​
“Of course!” she giggled. "That stuff is important. You can tell a lot about someone based on their chocolate preferences.”
​
Eden chimed in and agreed, and soon, she and Elon were bantering back and forth. Thomas leaned over the table, his hand next to his mouth.
​
“Hey, I’ll take one for the team, all right?” he said to Sam, as quietly as he could manage in the noisy atmosphere.
​
Sam smiled back and mimicked his posture. “You’re so brave.”
​
Within no time, Thomas had recaptured Eden’s attention and was whispering to her. Her expression shifted, a darkness now more visible underneath the pleasant façade. She looked more familiar to Sam this way. When the two of them got up to leave, Sam wondered if she should have protested Thomas’s martyrdom.
​
​
--
​
​
The previous night, Eden had grown bored of Thomas rather quickly, and he found himself strangely relieved at her early departure. Now, on a typical lazy day, he sat on the floor, alone in his room, with a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth and a guitar in his hands. He didn’t often find the urge to write down music, but there was one melody that was stuck repeating in his head and he felt he needed to exorcise it somehow.
​
The faerie closed his eyes, played a few cords, and then opened them again, looking up and around the room for answers he wouldn’t find. He repeated this action, altering the notes accordingly, and then jotted something illegible down in the notebook before him. He smiled and continued going on in a similar fashion until a loud sound broke him from his concentration. It sounded like someone had slammed the door shut, but it hadn’t been open.
​
Vexed, Thomas set his instrument down and stood. He only took a step before the door busted open, making a similar sound to the one he had heard before as it closed behind Elon. Though he initially assumed she was breaking in to check on him, she proceeded to walk up to his bed and threw herself onto it, face down. She screamed into his pillow. He raised an eyebrow.
​
Immediately, Elon sat upright and looked at Thomas.
​
“How was that?” she asked.
​
Thomas held out one hand and tilted it from side-to-side as he held the lollipop in the other.
​
“Eh,” he admitted, “it was okay. Seven out of ten. A nice scream, but severe lack of originality.” He glanced towards the front door as if he could see through the walls of his room. “I will give you a ten for lockpicking, though. I don’t know how you got past that whole mess.”
​
“What, you mean the runes?” Elon asked, her eyes darting to the side.
​
“No, those are just to keep unwanted visitors away, and you’re always welcome here,” he said, watching her smile as a reaction. “But that lock is ancient. My key hardly works in it and I certainly haven’t been able to successfully pick it.”
​
Elon shrugged and looked down. Her eyes looked sad, even if she was trying to hide it.
​
“Is something bothering you?” he asked.
​
“I guess.”
​
“Tell me.”
​
She sighed, long and overdrawn, and then explained. “It’s not a big deal. I asked Sam out and it didn’t go well.”
​
“You came in here and screamed into my bed because she upset you?” he clarified. “That's it-- I’m taking her kneecaps.”
​
Thomas pulled a long blade from under his shirt. Elon quickly reached out and pulled it away from him.
​
“No knives! And she didn’t upset me. She didn’t do anything. That was the problem.” Elon drooped, setting the blade on the side of her body furthest from Thomas.
​
“She rejected you?” He pulled out a similar knife from behind his back. She snatched it away in a similar fashion.
​
“Stop that!” she exclaimed. “And, I mean, kind of, she—”
​
Another knife appeared in his hand after he reached down towards his foot. It was smaller and had been kept in a hidden compartment near the bottom of his pant leg. Elon smacked his hand and it fell to the floor with a clatter.
​
“Why do you have so many knives on you?!” she inquired, gesturing wildly.
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“You never know,” he said slyly, pointing a new utility knife at her that he pulled from his front pocket. She snatched it and threw it across the room.
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“Do you have any more?” she asked.
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Thomas shook his head. She held out her hand knowingly. He sighed, pulled a similarly folded knife out of his other front pocket, and handed it over. She threw it across the room to join the other one, not breaking eye contact with him the whole time.
​
“Can I finish talking now?”
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Thomas nodded sullenly.
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“Last night, when you guys left, I told her I wanted to, like, be official,” she explained, clearly flustered as she idly ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. “I think she got mad at the idea because she turned red and left!”
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Thomas stifled a laugh and Elon shot him a confused look.
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“Look,” she continued, her voice wavering slightly as she got defensive. “I know you two don’t get along but I really like her and—”
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“Shut up, dork,” Thomas snorted. “She turned red because she likes you. Sam is way more awkward than you think. She probably didn’t know how to respond coolly and just decided to leave you hanging. I bet you anything she’s going to text or call when she gets her courage back.”
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“I highly doubt that.”
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Elon’s phone dinged a soft notification sound. She pulled out her phone to check the screen, then stared at Thomas with wide eyes. He put the lollipop back in his mouth and crossed his arms smugly. He saw her open the message and, while he wasn’t sure what it said, knew it must have been exactly what he had predicted.
​
“You were right!” she exclaimed. “She apologized and said she gets nervous around me—” Elon hesitated, thinking about the words she had just said as her eyes shone. “I make her nervous!”
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Thomas, his arms still crossed, shut his eyes and nodded. He extended an arm towards her, palm up, and she high-fived him eagerly before falling backwards into the bed, blinking in wonder at the ceiling.