by Noah Harris
“—So you can figure out a damn smartphone on your first try, but give you a microwave and you’ll set the house on fire?”
“Only the microwave caught fire,” the dragon said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, okay, okay, sorry,” Barry rolled his eyes and snarled. “You clearly know what the hell you’re doing.”
Xanathen sat on the edge of the bed in silence while his aura began to flare again. He crossed his arms, his fin lowered and he growled under his breath, letting the bed rumble just a bit.
“I’m not as dumb as you apparently think I am.”
Barry let out a frustrated sigh as he flung his arms to his sides with exasperation. “Then why? Why do you do this shit?”
“Avoiding your mother wasn’t going to achieve anything. She invited herself over. You needed to talk to her, anyways. Why didn’t you just tell her about us?”
“Oh, you’re right. You’re always right. Let me tell my parents all about how I’m not only gay, but in a loving relationship with a dragon. I’m sure they’ll just love that.”
“It might not be ideal, but it’s honest,” Xanathen said. “Why would you want to clip your own wings just to fit in here? When we first met, you didn’t take any guff from anyone. Not even me. You stood up to an ocean and even an elder dragon to get what you wanted. Now? You’re someone else completely. That fire’s gone. You’re okay with living by other people’s rules just to fit comfortably in this strange world!”
Xanathen’s words cut deep in places Barry didn’t think he even had. He grew heavier with each word, feeling ready to collapse onto the ground under their weight. He shook them off and glowered. He cracked the joints in his body and let out all of his energy:
“Okay, no. The fire’s not gone. You know what it’s doing? It’s what keeps me doing stuff I have to do. It’s what keeps me going to work, flying around, teaching you the things you need to get by here, so you can actually do whatever the hell you want without needing me here all the time! It may not be as sexy as wanting to ride you all the damn time, but it’s stuff I gotta do. Someone’s gotta do it, and it may as well be me!”
“I don’t need to learn to fit in. I shouldn’t have to: I’m a dragon. If I wanted, I could transform and claim this land for myself!” Xanathen shouted. “If this place is mine, I make all the rules. Then you don’t need to worry about doing the pointless things and you can just be Barry.”
“Fine. Go ahead. Do it! Go be a dragon! Take over the world, I’m waiting,” Barry snarled, crossed his arms and tapped his foot.
They stood completely still in their positions. Xanathen sunk onto the bed, staring a hole in the wall behind Barry’s head, while Barry’s arms flopped down to his side. They couldn’t even find it in themselves to look at each other. Xanathen’s knuckles turned white as he gripped a pillow until it seemed ready to burst. Barry scowled and turned on his heel, excusing himself to go to the bathroom.
He shed his clothes and stood naked in the stark-white bathroom. The AC felt refreshing on his sweat-caked body and face, which was flushed red with boiling blood from the argument. He turned the faucet in the shower and stepped in to the cold water. It pierced his skin, but calmed him, giving him a level of peace. The consistent, gentle sound of the water hitting both his skin and the tub was soothing. It let Barry take his mind off the heat of the moment. While some people found zen from meditation, he found his in either a good workout or a cold shower. It was even better when he had both!
He let his mind wander as the water ran through his blond hair and down his smooth body. Since returning home he’d had to trim his hair. While Xanathen missed his long, curly locks he was mildly pleased not to have to deal with all the tangles and knots anymore. Cleaning up didn’t take as long which was always a plus for him.
Xanathen’s opinions of him meant all the more to him now. Even if that bull-headed dragon was in the wrong, what he said stung badly. Barry looked up to the roaring shower faucet and wondered ‘Was Xanathen right?’ He focused on the water that dripped down his muscles and down the drain, spiraling away with precision.
Maybe there was some truth to what Xanathen had said. He could be such a stubborn man sometimes, with his mind always focused on sex. Barry’s face twisted angrily as he thought about it. He was probably just upset that Barry wasn’t always in the mood for sex anymore, like he once was. Barry couldn’t help it. He was out earning a living and came home tired. Sometimes a man just wants to cuddle and relax, is that so monstrous? He felt sure that he could act the exact same way he had done, while giving in to every sexual demand Xanathen had, and his draconic boyfriend would be singing a different tune. He would probably be okay with staying in that apartment forever if it meant Barry couldn’t say no.
Barry looked at the tiles on the wall and shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. It felt like it sometimes, but he couldn’t let a brief feeling of anger overshadow the entire relationship. Xanathen was never forceful and he never ever guilted Barry for saying no. He brought it up a lot, but it was always in the form of a question, not an answer. He was just as content with curling up in bed and doing nothing with him as Barry was, even if there was a bit of disappointment.
After his shower he looked into the mirror, speckled with stray drips of water, and focused.
He did have less energy than usual. His job was driving him into the ground and leaving him with nothing, but that was no reason for his defeatist attitude. There was some wisdom to Xanathen’s words, even if they were frank and not very poetic. Yes, Barry did feel Xanathen should stay home just a little longer, until he got more of a grasp of the world outside. At the same time, however, it wasn’t easy moving to a whole new place and learning a lot of basics all over again. Xanathen wasn’t going to learn anything by putting him down, and he wouldn’t learn from hiding all the time. He gave a peaceful sigh as he wrapped the towel around his waist and went back to the bedroom.
Xanathen lay across the bed from corner to corner with a surly demeanor. The sheets were covered in torn up bits of pillowcase and what appeared to be the pillow itself. He seemed to have let out some of his frustration.
Barry swiped away at the pillow sheddings, laid down and wrapped an arm around Xanathen’s waist.
“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered, resting his face near his dragon’s. “I’m just scared. What if my parents…”
He let the rest of his mumbled words fall into the mattress. Xanathen’s thick arm embraced Barry back. He cupped Barry’s face lovingly as he pressed his nose to his. A small smile peeked its way through.
“Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”
Barry gave out a small laugh and kissed Xanathen deeply as the two curled up into each other on the bed. The pillows lay in tattered shreds all around them, but it didn’t matter. They were content lying against each other until the calm of sleep rushed over them.
They could take on whatever came their way.
Xanathen was barely doing much better than Barry was when it came to stress. The walls seemed to taunt him. Just looking at them was putting him in a bad mood. Even when he ventured outside to stretch his legs and enjoy the sunlight, there was still something that made him feel confined. Each little thing around him reminded him how he was a stranger to not only this land, but the human race in general. There were so many nuances of things that he should, shouldn’t, could, or couldn’t do in certain situations but in other things, it was as bad as death.
His body trembled with the urge to drop this form and let his wings spring out and take in the light. He wanted to feel the sun’s warmth shine on his scales again and to soar above the clouds at his own leisure. It seemed like he could fly out into infinity if he just let his human form fall to the wayside. He thought about how liberating it would be to say goodbye to the ground and shoot through the sky as fast as he could.
What sort of dragon have I become? A dragon taking orders from a mortal man. My ancestors would be humiliated, Xanathen thought to himself as he l
ooked into the clear blue skies.
He shook his head. That wasn’t right. Barry brought up good arguments and asked for a lot of things, but he never flat out told Xanathen what he could and couldn’t do. If he did, there would’ve been a Barry-shaped hole in the wall somewhere a long time ago.
He didn’t fear what threats this world had to offer. There was nothing he couldn’t take on. He had defeated his greatest foe, the Elder Dragon that terrorized the seas, one of the most powerful beings he had ever come to face. Let them fling these “missiles” or whatever they’re called at him. He could certainly take it.
It was Barry’s worrying he couldn’t take. Those blue eyes of his got even bigger and rounder when he got so uptight about these things. Something about the way Barry fretted just made Xanathen less willing to spread his wings and fling caution to the wind. If this meant that much to Barry, he would try to do his best to listen, no matter how frustratingly binding it was. For now the best he felt he could do was wander the sidewalk, avoiding people that came near, and stare longingly into cloudy skies.
I’ll be with you again, he thought to himself as he watched the clouds roll by.
Each day went by slower as the day of Barry’s parents’ impending arrival neared. Even with Xanathen’s reassurance, Barry couldn’t find it in himself to look forward to it.
It was a Friday evening when there was a knock on the door. The apartment fell silent as the rapping continued, followed by muffled calls for Barry from behind the door. Barry instantly recognized the sound of his parents’ voices as he gripped Xanathen’s hand tightly. Xanathen, while impressed with just how tightly Barry managed to squeeze, nodded reassuringly and pushed Barry to the door. Holding his breath, Barry opened the door and managed to squeeze out an awkwardly cheery “Hi there!”
There was a great flurry of squealing, greetings and footsteps, followed by the family walking through the door with their arms full of groceries. The dead air that had been hanging over the apartment had been broken and replaced with a lively, near-manic energy.
Barry feigned enthusiasm. Seeing his parents nearly brought him to tears. He could barely remember when he had last seen them, and for a long time he thought he would never see them again. Letting his mother wrap her arms around his neck and squeeze him was almost refreshing to him. The old familiar feeling of quickly embracing his father and slapping him on the back was as if he had never left home at all. There was only one thing that seemed to be in the way of making it completely normal.
“Barry! Good t’see ya!” Barry’s dad, Gerald, said with a strained smile. The wrinkles in his face seemed stressed by smiling at all.
“Good to see you too, Dad. I thought I’d never see you again,” Barry said softly, his own voice cracking just a bit.
“Don’t cry, come on. You made it,” his Dad said with a disgusted wriggle to his voice, like he was trying to shrug off the discomfort without having to touch it.
“Yeah, I know, I just…I don’t know what to say,”
“Gerald, don’t be like that—” his mother, Carol, said, holding Barry close with her plump arms. “He’s been stranded on an island. He almost died. Give your son a damn hug.”
Father and son looked at each other with an uncomfortable shrug and laughed it off, dismissing her. She was having none of it and pushed the two together until she was satisfied with their long-armed hug. Then the parents were off investigating the apartment, no invitation needed, looking it over with a curious eye and wandering footsteps.
“This looks almost the same as your last place,” Gerald, said gruffly.
“I see being away from home still hasn’t taught you to dust, has it?” Carol asked.
“Too busy to dust, I…” Barry started as Xanathen was quietly bringing himself closer to the trio, eventually getting close enough to look over their shoulders. Carol turned around and gave a quick shriek at the incredibly tall man looming over her, then snorted out a laugh. Barry sighed and gestured to Xanathen. “Mom, Dad, this is—”
Xanathen looked down at his parents with a condescending look. His muscular arms were crossed and flexing just enough to display all of his strength. Barry still wasn’t sure if he did this to intentionally establish dominance or if he was just physically created to show off his muscles at all times. Even when wearing a basic t-shirt and jeans he just seemed to naturally show off his toned physique.
Gerald and Carol looked at Xanathen in awe of his height, both engulfed by his shadow. His face softened as he extended his hand to each of them with a hearty smile as he introduced himself with a deep bravado.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hodgeson! Welcome! It’s great to finally meet you!”
“Oh, you’re Nathan! Snuck up on me there—” Carol shook his hand eagerly. She gave Barry a side glance. “Wow, you didn’t tell me he was so tall. And a cutie, too! Barry, you shoulda told me, I would’ve worn something nicer!”
“Nice t’meetcha, Nathan,” Gerald said as Carol cackled.
Barry groaned, turning away from it all. Xanathen however seemed all too pleased by this flood of attention. He shook hands, squeezing hard and sending the couple into fits of laughter, out of pure surprise. Barry wasn’t quite sure why they were so surprised— they could clearly see him, right?
“Boy, you boys grow big on that island of yours, don’t ya?” Gerald asked. “Damn. Got quite the grip there.”
Xanathen’s eyes lit up and his mouth opened but Barry quickly intervened.
“Oh yeah, super strong. And so polite,” Barry said. There was so much emphasis on the word “polite” that Xanathen understood that whatever crude joke he was going to make were not acceptable.
Carol and Barry made their way around the kitchen, opening boxes and stuffing things into the pantry and fridge. There was so much food that wasn’t even on the intended menu for dinner, but nonetheless was bought with the intent of filling the fridge anyway. There was nothing nicer than a fridge filled to the brim with food. Just the sight of it all made Barry’s mouth water.
There was just no place for Barry in that kitchen, though, not with Carol on the warpath. It didn’t matter whose kitchen it was. If she had a recipe and ingredients, you were her guest. Despite Barry pleading with her to sit down and take it easy, she was having none of it. All he could do was dumbly stand nearby and make forced conversation. Xanathen was sitting on the couch with Gerald, with plenty of space between them and a lively conversation was in progress. Good. Let’s keep it this way. Please, Barry thought to himself as he continued to move to try and stay out of his mother’s way.
The TV filled the vacant space in Xanathen and Gerald’s conversation. Gerald seemed content to nestle into the couch and grab the remote for himself.
“Y’like sports?” Gerald grunted.
“Baseball,” Xanathen replied simply.
“Good man.” He nodded, mildly impressed. “Surprised they got it out there in…Where’d you say you were from?”
Xanathen was puzzled for a moment, having never named his island before then gave the answer Barry had been giving everyone else: “Bermuda.”
“Ah. Anything else?”
“I haven’t seen any other sports, only baseball. Though if I saw them, I’m sure I would be great at them.”
Gerald snorted. “Right. Here. This is called football.”
The two sat quietly again, eyes glued to the screen. Xanathen was in a complete state of wonder as he watched the colorfully clad people run back and forth across the astroturf. The intensity of it and the movement brought a smile to his face. The rules meant very little to him, though he managed to pick up a few, just from listening to the occasional comment from Gerald or the announcers. He would join in and cheer when Gerald did, and was sure to shout in protest at the same time as him as well.
The table was set with the lonely, mismatched crockery set of the common twenty-something bachelor, dull-faded plates that Barry had found in a thrift store. The chips and scratches on them were covered by the steami
ng hot food.
The four sat around the table. Barry was amused that it fit that many people so comfortably. Gerald and Carol sat next to each other while he and Xanathen sat across from each other. As his mother passed the food around and made conversation, Barry internally sighed with relief.
Xanathen seemed to be on his best behavior. To be fair, his “best behavior” was a completely subjective statement. Xanathen certainly wasn’t the shining example of good manners when he grabbed the platters and began scooping everything onto his plate and letting out loud belches of approval after inhaling whatever was in front of him. However, he was a trooper when the two guests lectured, as politely as they could, about waiting his turn and saying “Excuse me.” He didn’t growl or toss the table, he simply let that dark purple aura simmer around him as he belittled them mentally for being mere mortals in his presence. He smiled his big, toothy smile and chuckled it all off.
His parents of all people really seemed to be enjoying this! Barry noticed how much his parents guffawed and grinned throughout dinner. The way they behaved towards Xanathen, trying to “teach” him how things were done in America—they seemed to find it all wildly amusing.
They were tourists in Barry’s everyday life.
“Nathan,” Carol chuckled, “your English is very good for someone who’s lived here for only a few months.”
“Thank you, I’ve known it for centuries,” Xanathen replied, beaming with pride.
Barry winced.
“Really? They speak English down there?” Gerald swallowed a chunk of meatloaf, his brows raising in surprise.
“Dad, they speak English in a lot of places now—” Barry started.
“I learned it from my parents,” Xanathen said, “My people learned it from settlers long ago—” He ran a hand through his fin-like tuft of hair. “I hadn’t had a chance to really use it until I met Barry.”
Carol gave Barry a look. “Y’know, Barry, you didn’t really tell us how you two met!”
“It’s not really that important,” Barry said.
