by Mary Dublin
"S-sorry." She forced a laugh to hide how shaken she was. "Wasn't expecting that."
"That… crap, I'm sorry," he muttered, a guilty look pulling at his handsome features when she looked at him in surprise. "Can't say I blame you for being jumpy." Cliff pointed the remote at the TV again, and the images flicked a few more times before settling on a strange-looking forest. When the screen showed no indication of present or future violence amongst the leafy jungles, he sat back. "There, you like plants, right?"
She avoided his gaze, wishing she could put on a braver face. It embarrassed her to expose such fear, especially on something so trivial compared to what she had been through in the last few days.
Her eyes rose to the screen, relief palpable. These moving pictures were far more welcoming, though the vegetation that panned along was unlike anything she had seen before—exotic and new, which she was more than fine with.
"Plants, yes," she said, chuckling gratefully. "Thank you."
For several minutes, Cliff munched noisily on his Cheerios. Sylvia did her best to ignore him. It wasn't that he was a sloppy eater… he just ate so much. That bowl of cereal he was chowing down on could feed three fairy families for a week. And within fifteen minutes, he had emptied the bowl down to a few crumbles floating on a sliver of white liquid. Sylvia glanced skyward in silent gratitude as Cliff quieted down at last.
He laid down on the couch with his head closer to her. Finally, the world seemed to grow still again. Sylvia ate her fill, setting aside the excess cereal on the other side of the armrest. She frowned faintly when the moving pictures of the distant, lush forest disappeared. The TV now showed something entirely unrelated. A man and woman holding up a bottle of blue liquid and swishing it around their mouths. Sylvia hiked an eyebrow high as the image changed again: a family of five humans sitting down to dinner, all passing around a container of butter like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
She glanced down to Cliff, wondering if he was messing with the channels again. Seeming to sense her movement, his huge profile tilted his head back to look at her sideways. A smirk appeared on his lips. He shifted again, so quickly for something so huge. Cliff's huge hand soared up over his head, groping around on the armrest to pull the fairy into a loose fist. The thick fingers circled around her waist and lifted her into the air.
"C'mere." His voice rumbled somewhere below her. It wasn't a question, but the gentleness in his voice softened the fact that he was just grabbing her because he felt like it.
The ride was brief, landing her in the center of his chest with his hand settled overtop like a selfish blanket. Sylvia waited for some explanation, some reason for his action, but Cliff was pointedly watching the screen like nothing had happened. Giving an exasperated sigh, she turned under his hand to find a comfortable position.
"You know, being grabbed without permission isn't as fun as you think it would be," she scolded half-heartedly. Her heart was racing with a touch of fear from the unexpected transfer. The beating in her chest felt rapid and frantic compared to the calm thuds of his heart right beneath her. "I'll let you off with a warning this time, but just you wait until I can fly out of your reach."
Her tense posture began to relax, responding to his oddly comforting warmth. She yawned, eyelids growing heavy. Settling on her side, she tucked her legs up to her stomach and rested her head on her arm. Half-lidded eyes pointed toward the screen, she allowed her breathing to even out as she tentatively nestled herself against him.
"Come on, who wants to fall asleep sitting up?" he retorted groggily, his words becoming slurred by sleep. He stifled a yawn into his pillow and adjusted his grip on her. "I'm not squishing your wing, am I?"
"Nah, I'm fine. You're being awfully considerate for… well, you. Other than grabbing me." Sylvia curled more into herself under his hand, burying the uninjured side of her face into her wrist. Her voice became soft and lethargic as the stable beat of his heart soothed her. "You can sleep," she assured him.
"Halfway there, babe."
She felt his chest rise and fall evenly beneath her and realized he had finally drifted off. Though her own eyes finally drooped shut, thoughts surfaced and raced in her mind fervently.
Something at the back of her mind scolded her for willingly being cuddled up to a giant who had shot her. Inadvertently, his action had led to her leaving the place she had called home her entire life. And yet, there she was. She smiled wryly, questioning how she could feel so protected by someone who had caused her so much grief.
Her mind quit wandering as it settled on a peaceful thought: no matter what had happened before, she was safe with him now. Both of them. With that, she fell limp and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Eleven
Sylvia's eyes fluttered, and she squinted drowsily at the faint morning light, though it was really a thudding sound that had woken her up. As her vision adjusted, she caught sight of Jon briskly exiting the living room.
"Jon?" She tried to sit up, but she found herself pinned by Cliff's lax fingers. Using more energy than she would have liked after just waking up, she squirmed and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to pull herself out from under Cliff's hand. She looked toward his head, but she could only see the underside of his jaw. Fast asleep, he hadn't even budged.
Deciding she should keep Jon company since they were both up, she crawled forward and slipped down from Cliff's shoulder to the couch cushion. Painfully reminded of how much she yearned for flight, she descended to the floor by gripping the fabric of the couch.
Trying not to be too intimidated by the apartment's cavernous size, she showed herself around. The kitchen was empty, so she made her way down the hall to reach the bedroom. As she neared the doorway, she hesitated.
"Hey, Jon?" she called out as loudly as her groggy voice would allow. "You there?"
When no answer came, she hesitantly slipped through the ajar door. There was the definite sound of a human moving about, but her voice couldn't carry to him from that far. She stopped in her tracks when the sound of running water came from behind the closed bathroom door in the bedroom. Clearly he was busy.
She lingered near the bedroom's threshold, unsure what to do with herself. It was then that she took notice that the bedroom wasn't exactly clean. Come to think of it, the rest of the apartment seemed to have this and that strewn about, from papers to clothing. Sylvia smirked and shook her head at the humans' untidiness.
After nearly half an hour, she was beginning to feel a little strange, just sitting there listening to him showering. There was little else she could do. Without her wings to carry her, she couldn't fully navigate a home meant for giants without the help of the giants in question.
Sylvia straightened up when the door to the bathroom opened at long last. She craned her neck as Jon entered the bedroom, trying to ignore the incessant fluttering of her heartbeat. At least he remembered his clothes this time.
Indeed, she suspected he'd been up for quite some time before her. Jon wore a variation of the same thing he'd worn the day before: jeans and a navy blue shirt. The only thing missing was his shoes, which he straightaway retrieved from under the bed. Without a glance toward where Sylvia stood, Jon sat down on the edge of the bed to tug at the laces of his boots.
Being overlooked couldn't hinder Sylvia's pleasant mood. Smiling brightly, she approached where he sat.
"Morning! How did you sleep—" She stopped midway between him and the door, smile fading into a concerned frown. She had failed to notice the deeply troubled expression on his face. Taking a step back, she tilted her head. "Are you alright?"
Jon nearly jumped out of his skin, his wide eyes relaxing when they honed in on her diminutive figure standing not even two feet away from him.
"You… you're awake!" he sputtered, stating the obvious. "Me? I… I'm fine." He paused, his brow pinching. "Did you climb down the couch to get here?"
"Why yes, I did," Sylvia said, crossing her arms and smirking despite her concern. "This may c
ome as a shock, but I am capable of doing a thing or two without my wings." She eyed his attire, taking a few cautious steps forward. "You didn't look fine just now. Are you going somewhere?"
"I was thinking about going for a walk. Fresh air and all that," Jon admitted with a shrug. "Saw you snuggled up in the living room. Didn't want to disturb you. You two looked pretty comfortable together."
Her eyebrows shot up at his almost-accusing tone. Compelled to explain herself, her voice came out more defensive than intended. "Well, I didn't plan on falling asleep like that. I'm pretty sure he was trying to comfort me after what happened last night. You know, the life-changing decision to leave the only home I've ever had."
Guilt flickered over Jon's face, and she regretted it. It took a surprising amount of resilience to not offer an immediate apology. He seemed disconnected, like the night before. If she had gone on sleeping, he would have simply left without a word. For some reason, that bothered her.
Backing toward the door, she attempted a more neutral expression. "So, you want to be alone?"
Jon looked up, shifting his booted feet so he could watch her retreat. "For a while, yeah. You want a lift back to the couch?"
Sylvia paused in her step, unable to bring herself to turn him down despite his strange behavior. If it were anyone else, she would have told them that she was perfectly capable of walking.
She strolled back toward him. "If you insist," she said, feigning exasperation.
He laid out a hand for her on the hardwood floor. He no longer tensed when her feet pressed down into his skin, nor when she got comfortable. Carrying her back to the living room, he lowered her to the arm of the couch and waited for her to step off.
"I won't be gone too long," Jon said. "Just half an hour or so."
She snorted. "I think I can handle it." Still wondering why he needed alone time, she sat cross-legged on the armrest and gave him a faint smile.
"Right. I'll, uh, see you soon then." Jon smiled back, though there was an ever-present unease that tainted its natural warmth.
Sylvia got one more look thrown over his shoulder at her. Then he was gone.
***
The crisp autumn air was a blessing. With every step along the minor shops that mirrored their apartment complex, the notion of having a crush on a fairy seemed more and more far-fetched. Now if he could just get Sylvia's face out of mind, maybe he'd be on the straight and narrow once more.
Jon bought himself a tall coffee and sat outside the providing cafe, dialing a familiar number on his cell. It rang a discouraging number of times before the machine took mercy on him and cut to voicemail: "This is Leeana! I'm not available to talk right now, but leave a message and I'll be happy to ring you back, ASAP."
Jon sighed. "Hey, Lee, it's me. I know you probably don't want to hear this right now, but I was just hoping to talk with you. It's been almost a month now. I'd appreciate a call."
Jon clamped the phone shut and dropped it in his pocket. He took a longer drag of the coffee than necessary, praying dearly that a generous dose of caffeine would help rid his mind of strange, wandering thoughts.
***
Sylvia hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. She stared at the TV screen without really seeing, without really listening. Even Cliff's wind-like breathing, so close, faded into mere background noise.
What a mess. Humans were so confusing. Jon, at least. But with him away, the weight of last night's decision suddenly hit her. She had abandoned her home. Her family. All familiarity in her life was lost, replaced by a couple of giants and a giant apartment that she couldn't navigate properly without flight.
Her vision suddenly blurred. Huffing, she swiped the forming tears away, only to cause more to spill over.
"Nnmm…" Cliff finally stirred at the sound of a particularly exclamatory show about fishing in Icelandic villages. Sylvia whipped her head in his direction and watched his fingers curl around empty air on his chest, alerting him to a small fairy's absence. He didn't have to look far.
"Hey," he greeted, turning onto his side to peer up at her. His groggy smile vanished in moments. Cliff swiftly sat up, leaning over her.
Sylvia flinched, reacting too late to hide the evidence of fresh tears on her face. "It's… it's nothing—"
"What happened?" Cliff demanded. "Are you hurt? Oh shit, I didn't squish you, did I?"
She turned away, adopting a firmer tone "Nothing! It's nothing. I'm fine. Just… I dunno." Everything. She laughed rigidly and dared to peer up at him, knowing her cheeks had to be pink from crying by then. "I'll be over it in a second. Don't worry about it. I'm fine."
He frowned, unconvinced. Cliff cupped a hand behind her, a wall of warmth for support. "Hey, I know what it means when you say you're okay but you don't mean it." Her folded wings flickered against skin as his hand inched closer. "I'm not saying you have to tell me, but… at least let me hold you."
She resisted the urge to brush him off, pressing her lips into a thin line. Her shoulders heaved. She leaned into his hand, curling against his open palm and burying her face in an attempt to hold back sobs that turned out to be in vain. A second hand came in and covered her from behind, gathering her between them and lifting her close to him. He didn't try to hush or silence her. He just held her and provided a sturdy, caring foundation on which to be reminded that she was no longer alone.
The tremors shaking through her body gradually died down after a few good minutes of crying. As she pulled herself together, she dried her face. To her surprise, she felt better.
Her tense shoulders drooped as she sighed and looked straight up. "Sorry," she murmured, her voice still tremulous. "Thank you. I needed that. Don't know why that hit me all the sudden."
"No worries." Cliff brushed it off as casually as if she had sneezed. "You've got one crazy life right now." He smiled kindly at her and then stood up with a slight noise of protest from his stiff muscles. "You know what you need? Some sugar."
She laughed, and it was genuine. "Definitely won't argue with that. Gimme some." The awful weight of uncertainty lifted from her chest for the time being. She was more than happy to accept Cliff's kindness, even if he was the last person she would expect it from.
Seeing as Cliff was apparently cooking-handicapped, he made them a breakfast of pop-tarts again, showing Sylvia how the thing he called a microwave worked, and by extension, how delicious they tasted heated up.
"Mm, I think I'm going to go into a sugar coma," he said under his breath as he went to retrieve something from the fridge.
"The only coma I'd like to be in," she said through a full mouth, savoring the warm fruit filling of her pop-tart. She looked up, tilting her head at the sight of the white liquid Cliff brought to the table. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "You put that in your cereal last night. What is it?"
"Milk?" He looked up sharply.
She made a face. "What, like… milk milk?"
"Boy, you got a lot of catching up to do." He introduced the white liquid to her in a shot glass. "Not sure you wanna know where it comes from, so don't ask."
"I think I've got the gist of it," she said, wrinkling her nose as she spotted a picture of a cow on the carton. She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm trusting you with this. If I vomit, it's your fault." She leaned down and sipped off the top. Straightening up, she paused thoughtfully and rolled her eyes. "Alright, you win this one."
He gave her a smug look and replaced the carton in the fridge. He glanced out to the hallway, into the open doorway of their bedroom.
"Hey, do you know if Jon's up?" he asked, taking his seat again.
Her easy expression became stony in record time. "Uh, yeah. He headed out just before you got up. Said he wanted to be alone." She looked down, crossing her arms tightly and shuffling her feet. Before she could stop herself, she asked, "Do you know if I did anything to make him mad, or something?"
Cliff raised his eyebrows at her, smiling like she wasn't in on the b
ig joke. "He's totally got the hots for you, if that's what you mean."
She raised her head and blinked up at him, shocked into dropping her arms to her sides. His tone gave her a hint at what he meant, but she couldn't be sure. He couldn't mean that. And even if he did, he had to be joking.
"Excuse me, he totally has the what for me?" She played it off cluelessly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He snorted a short burst of laughter. "It means your pretty little face gets him in a tizzy. He wants to—what would you call it—'court' you? Come on, you haven't noticed the way he stares at you sometimes?" Cliff shook his head, smiling wider.
She let out a startled laugh, though something brightened in her eyes. But denial rose to her lips. "He looks at me because I'm smaller than his hand and have wings. Not because of… that." She fought a smile. Ridiculous. "You're just seeing things."
"You think you know him so well after a few days, huh?" Cliff gave her a look, reminding her that he had known the man for years. "Trust me, he'll be back soon, and you're the first thing he's gonna go for."
Not ten minutes later, there was a rap on the door.
Cliff grinned. "Am I good or what?"
Sylvia threw him a confused look as he got up and strode away from the table. Couldn't Jon unlock the door for himself? She took a few steps back, the door barely in her line of sight. Her uncertainty became full-blown panic when he opened the door to reveal a young woman with long, honey-colored waves and soft features that seemed to have an edge of mystique to them.
Cliff's smile dropped clean away. "Leeana!"
Sylvia went even more rigid at the name. Something utterly new flared up in her. First, it was raw jealousy. And then, a fearful instinct kicked in. There was an unfamiliar human nearby, and Sylvia stood exposed. Her wings burst open, but she knew they would be no help. Every nerve told her to run and hide, but her legs locked disobediently.
