The Blind Dragon

by Noah Harris

  “I got lunch,” came Fiona’s voice from the other side of the apartment, the front door. “I hope you two are decent.” Konrad got up, trying to remember the path Shaeffer had led him through, counting his steps. “What happened in here? All the furniture is moved around.”

  “Shaeffer made me a path,” he said aloud, in her general direction, and he heard her put some bags of food down on the counter. He reached the kitchen without incident, and Fiona was silent. He could have sworn he could feel her watching him.

  “How are you doing?” She seemed suspicious, or maybe just curious.

  “I’m fine. I’m good,” Konrad said, casually, and she moved some things around for a minute.

  “Okay, that’s good to hear,” she said, and Konrad smiled when he heard how relieved she sounded.

  “Also, don’t go in the bathroom.”

  Two Weeks Later

  Shaeffer Gipson

  “Well, Shaeffer, I’m really glad you’ve decided to work with us. Your other agent called and had some…choice words. But Akihiko has been basically demanding you walk at his show in Tokyo, no matter who’s representing you, so we’re glad to be the ones who snapped you up.” Shaeffer thought about his new agent, Iris, black-haired and nearly black-eyed, with short, neat, manicured black nails. It seemed black was her color. Despite that unsettling darkness about her, she seemed nice enough, if business-minded and willing to hold Shaeffer’s track record over his head. He’d met with her this morning before picking up Konrad’s laundry and some lunch on the way back to his loft.

  “We’re very excited to work with you on this project,” she’d said, that glint in her black eyes making him uneasy. “But we need you to keep in touch with us, alright? No disappearing, no fucking around, no fucking off. I’m sure you understand. We won’t tolerate behavior that other agents have warned us about. We’ll fire you and blacklist you, like that.” She’d finished with a big, pearly smile, and a snap of her fingers, and he’d returned it nervously, verbal contract signed.

  He hadn’t been expecting much better, although the way she’d talked to him, like a petulant, irresponsible child, which Shaeffer was beginning to realize he wasn’t, had left a bad taste in his mouth. The agent hadn’t specifically mentioned his missed shows over the past two weeks while he’d been taking care of Konrad, even though his old agent had left probably twenty voicemails a day screaming nonsense and expletives. Then he’d dropped him, and Shaeffer had realized that taking care of Konrad with no income probably wasn’t the smartest move, even though it had been extremely rewarding over the past two weeks.

  Konrad respected him. Konrad thought he was smart. Konrad always complimented him on his competence, how he always thought ahead, thought of everything, that he was responsible. Shaeffer was starting to believe him. He’d tolerated his old agent berating him, abusing him, but now that he had Konrad telling him he deserved better, well…maybe Konrad was right. This agent was a slight step-up if anything. And he was still, somehow, getting this opportunity to do the Tokyo show for Akihiko’s new line, three months from now.

  He wasn’t sure who’d been more excited at the time, Iris or himself, when they’d discussed the Tokyo show. But now, as he walked down Drake Street toting Konrad’s expensive shirts and some Indian food, he was positive it was him. Akihiko’s new fashion line was exclusive; everyone wanted into the show and into the clothes themselves. And Shaeffer wouldn’t just be another model they’d hired; they wanted him for the menswear centerpiece, the grand finale of the show. Iris had said it was magical, something anyone would die or kill for. The show would be a huge honor, the fact that they even considered him was already mind-boggling. It would change his life, give him enough money to live for at least a year on Drake Street, give him the publicity a model could only dream of. This wasn’t his profession of choice, but if he was going to excel at it, he may as well embrace it.

  But then there was Konrad to think about, during his week-long trip to Tokyo. Before, it would’ve been a no-brainer. But now…

  He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket and transferred the takeout to his other arm before fishing it out. Fiona’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Fiona, hey. Everything okay?” She rarely called him this early unless something was wrong, her usual three or four calls would occur later in the day when she had some free time to check in. Her early calls usually tended to be when Fiona had stopped by in his absence, if he was grocery shopping or picking up a new audiobook or album for Konrad to listen to, his new hobby in his blindness. When she called, it was because of Konrad doing something reckless, he wasn’t very good at following the recommendations of the doctor Clara had sent over to do a home-visit for him. He was supposed to rest, recuperate, let his body heal.

  Instead, he was always pushing himself. Fiona would call Shaeffer, and he’d be able to hear the wind whipping past her over the phone. She’d be up on the roof with Konrad, who’d found his way up there to see if he could see the sun. He never could.

  Or she’d call and ask if he’d seen Konrad, if he took him somewhere, which Shaeffer never did. It wasn’t good for him to strain himself by going out. Shaeffer would rush home and find Konrad halfway down the adjacent street, trying to look casual with one hand in his pocket and the other feeling its way along the brick buildings. The stressful grimace on his face always gave him away, though. After the last time Konrad had disappeared, Fiona had stopped showing up at the loft.

  Shaeffer hoped this phone call was a roof phone call, if anything, and not a runaway call. Those were harder to handle. At least in the first case, they knew where he was. It was exasperating, but Shaeffer couldn’t blame him for trying, for not just quitting. In fact, and he’d never tell Fiona this, it was one of the things Shaeffer loved about Konrad. His trying, his effort, the fact that he didn’t quit.

  “Well, I’m just calling to check in. I know you had that meeting with your agent this morning, so Konrad was alone. And you know he never answers the phone.” Shaeffer knew she was leaving out the fact that Konrad never answered the phone when she called.

  “Yeah, he’s doing okay, he’s only been alone for about,” he checked his watch. “Two and a half hours.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “He’s fine, Fiona,” he said, trying not to show his irritation. He knew Fiona had known Konrad for longer, but sometimes it felt like she didn’t trust him to take care of him.

  “How’s he doing? Do his eyes look better?”

  “He’s doing a little better every day, Fiona,” he said vaguely, turning the corner, the Burgundy Gallery coming into view. There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then Fiona grunted.

  “Right,” she said coldly, and he winced. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to betray Konrad’s trust. Konrad had insisted, nearly begged, for Shaeffer not to give anyone any detailed information, even Fiona, even Clara, until he was sure, absolutely sure, his vision wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t a difficult task, generally, to keep it a secret. No one else knew about his relationship with Konrad except Fiona, and she usually got frustrated enough that she’d just hang up.

  “Right, well, I’m about to head up,” he said awkwardly.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me how your meeting with your agent went?” she sounded expectant, and he rolled his shoulders, finally deciding to just put the heavy bag of food on the ground beside his feet for a moment. She wasn’t going to let him off the phone until he told her, but he wasn’t even sure where he stood on the Tokyo deal. Maybe talking to Fiona would help, for once. She wasn’t the same person he’d enjoyed seeking out at parties, that had all changed. But she was still responsible and kind, even if she seemed too frazzled to care most of the time.

  “Well, they’ve offered me, more demanded, that I do this show in Tokyo. It’s super exclusive and they, uh, want me to basically be the menswear centerpiece. I’d do the final showing in the designer’s headline piece.”


  “That’s amazing, Shaeffer,” she said, sounding more excited than he’d expected. “Wow, you know, that’s so great. I’m really proud of you!”

  “Wow, thanks, Fiona, thank you. I just don’t know if I’m…” he hesitated. “I don’t know if I’m going to do it. Konrad.” He heard her breathe in on the other end of the call, and he waited.

  “Well, when is it?”

  “Three months. Do you…maybe he’ll be recovered by that time? Three months is a long time, he could come with me. It might be good for him.”

  “I don’t know, Shaeffer,” she said quietly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Well, what? Do you think he’d be able to stay home, by himself? I’m there with him almost all day, every day. I’m only gone for a few hours at a time. If I was in Tokyo, you’d have to go by every day, and I know you’re busy with work.”

  “I’m not that busy,” she said uncertainly, and he pursed his lips, staring at the crimson paint on the bricks of the building. “I could do it, so you could go. I know you want to go. This would be so good for your career, you know?”

  “I know. And, you know, I’m having a hard time making a decision because I’m worried about Konrad, of course,” he said, and he lowered his voice suddenly as if Konrad might hear him somehow. Or maybe it was because this was the secret, the doubt, that he’d been hiding from himself, too. “I just wonder if I should do it anyway. I mean, everything between Konrad and me is so…new. I don’t know if I’m just his caretaker or…”

  “You know Konrad cares about you,” Fiona said, but she didn’t sound sure. Shaeffer stared at the side of the building, letting his fingers explore divots in the bricks and mortar. He thought about Konrad, about coming home after leaving for a few hours to get some air and space and still feeling like he hadn’t gotten enough. Like he’d only been gone for a few minutes. Walking into the building and half-expecting Konrad to be there, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, with a broken neck. Realizing, with horror, that he hadn’t been that devastated by the imagined sight.

  “I’m just worried. I’m excited, but it’s like whatever excitement I had has been dragged down by my anxiety about how Konrad’s going to react.”

  “He’ll be excited for you, Shaeffer,” Fiona said, and Shaeffer felt himself beginning to get tired of talking to her. He’d been looking, at first, for the kind, reassuring Fiona he’d always known. But now she was here, he wanted the realistic Fiona back, the one who’d lay out the facts for him and tell him the truth.

  “Well, you know Konrad eventually heard about that bad review,” Shaeffer said, quieter still. “One of his artist friends…”

  “Kusov?”

  “I don’t know,” Shaeffer said, and Fiona grumbled something inaudible.

  “But some guy called to like, basically say he’d heard about the review and that the critic was an idiot and quoted parts of it. He was trying to make Konrad feel better, but Konrad didn’t even know about it, obviously.”

  “What a moron. Who does that?” Fiona snapped, and he nearly grinned. Realistic, snarky Fiona was back.

  “I know. He was pissed off for days, skulking around the apartment, not eating, drinking bottles of wine by himself. The only way I could make him feel better was acting like I hate my job, too. We, like, bonded over it. Talking shit makes him feel better,” Shaeffer said, laughing slightly.

  “I think that’s how it works for all of us,” Fiona said with a chuckle, and he smiled, but it felt more like a wince.

  “But, with this new offer…I don’t really hate my job anymore,” he said. Konrad, after the review and his downward spiral, had started making comments about retiring, about his career being over. He had the loft. They’d have enough money to get by for a while, Clara would help if they needed her to. There were the comments, small and in passing. If they retired together, Shaeffer knew Konrad would feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, like he’d dropped ten years of stress and resentment.

  “Well, Shaeffer, I mean, it’s three months away. It’s still early. You have time to make a decision, to talk to Konrad, to see if he recovers enough to either come with or stay home. I’ll be here.” Shaeffer nodded, picking a piece of mortar out of the wall and rolling it between his fingers. She was right, it was early. Too early to be thinking about the Tokyo show, and also too early to be making assumptions about where he and Konrad would be in three months. As much as Shaeffer was beginning to love him, Konrad was volatile, intense, hard to be around sometimes. What if they weren’t even together by the time the show came around?

  He didn’t want to think about it and squeezed his eyes shut. They were so comfortable around one another, finding solace in each other’s company when Konrad wasn’t sulking about his condition. And Shaeffer trusted Konrad, truly. No matter how he wondered where he stood with him, sometimes, he knew, deep down, he could trust him. That they trusted each other.

  But there was that doubt again, deep-seated, that Konrad only trusted him, was comfortable around him, because he needed Shaeffer. Because he was dependent on someone to take care of him. If this hadn’t happened, if Konrad had never gone blind…if he’d been the same confident alpha-male he’d met at the show, the one who’d seduced him and dragged him up the stairs to take him to bed, would they be together at all? He wondered, if he’d come back to find a sighted Konrad, if he’d shown up at his apartment the next day and opened the door to Konrad looking down at him with those intense eyes, the ones from the night before…would he have slammed the door in Shaeffer’s face, told him to get lost?

  And what would happen if his vision came back? Surely that old Konrad would come back, and what would happen then? To Shaeffer, to them?

  “Hey, listen, Shaeffer, you there?”

  “Yeah,” he choked, and she sighed.

  “I’ll call you back, okay? Don’t worry so much. Everything’s going to be fine. I have a meeting,” she said, and he nodded even though he knew she couldn’t see him.

  “Yeah, right, okay, I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and she sighed again, in relief this time.

  “Great.” Then she hung up. Shaeffer held his phone in his hand for a moment, feeling frozen, like his brain wouldn’t work. He took a deep breath and let his mantra slide through his mind, into his stomach, settling his anxiety.

  A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases…

  He repeated it in his mind, over and over, leaning down to pick up the takeout which was beginning to grease through the paper bag. He hoisted the laundry higher over his shoulder and then eased the door open with his elbow, heading inside and up the stairs. He needed to calm down, it was like Konrad could smell the stress on him, and whenever he came home stressed, it freaked Konrad out, making him react with his own anxious irritability.

  Shaeffer needed to be a source of comfort for Konrad, a smooth, cool river that he could glide down any time he needed to relax and be at peace. He wanted to be that for him, a joy forever, a reassuring force. Comfort, compassion, silent companionship when Konrad needed to stop hearing everything so loudly. If Konrad was worried because he was worried, it always made things worse. Which was why he stood outside the door to Konrad’s loft, repeating his mantra, breathing deeply, counting each intake of oxygen.

  Suddenly, though, he heard something inside, then he felt it. The floor shook, the whole building shook. He shoved the takeout into his other arm and fished around urgently for his key, cramming it into the lock and turning the handle. He nearly fell inside, slamming it behind him and then turning around.

  Then he screamed. Loud, shrill, pure fear. Before him stood…what was it, it couldn’t be…a beast, a dragon. It had to be a dragon, it looked like a dragon. Huge, its horned head crammed against the skylight’s nearly shattering them. Its scales were like rubies in the sunlight, glittering like fire. The whole apartment felt like it was consumed in that fire, heat wavering in the air between them. Shaeffer dropped the takeout on the floor,
its contents splattering, scattering across the floor. The laundry drifted to the floor behind him.

  The beast raised its hands, its claws long and cruel, nearly as long as its forearms. The teeth in its monstrous, snarling jaw were just as long, yellowed at the base, glistening with saliva at the dangerous points. It hissed, and Shaeffer skittered backward, his back hitting the door. Then it inhaled, its nostrils flaring.

  Fire? Was it going to breathe fire at him? He needed to run. His feet were blocks of concrete.

  Then it blinked, lowering its horrifying clawed hands, its horned head. It looked down at him, calm, seeming to breathe deeply, its chest rumbling with each breath. Shaeffer’s knees gave out, and he slid to the ground.

  Its eyes were silver, sightless, just like Konrad’s. Blind. And then the dragon was gone, shrinking into nothingness, into the man he loved, and Shaeffer screamed again.

  Confessions

  Konrad Fontaine

  “You’re…but I don’t understand, where did…”

  “It was me, Shaeffer,” Konrad said again, for what felt like the tenth time. He didn’t mind repeating it, though, he’d sit there for hours, reassuring Shaeffer over and over of the truth, that he wasn’t hallucinating. Anything to calm him down. He hated hearing Shaeffer’s rattling breaths, his wheezing, shaken sobs. His face was wet to the touch with tears.

  “But you’re here,” he whined, his chest heaving. “You’re…what are you?”

  “I’m…well, we’re called shifters. I am a dragon.” Explaining it in that sterile way made him feel strange, as if he was making himself up, fictionalizing himself. A dragon shifter, saying it out loud, not experiencing it but trying to explain it to someone, saying it out loud…he empathized with Shaeffer. It sounded insane. Shaeffer burrowed his head in Konrad’s shoulder, and he could feel the tears rolling from Shaeffer’s face onto his skin, warm and wet.