by R. Cooper
He had no idea why her green eyes were fixed so intently on him. But she finally put a frosted cinnamon roll in a box for him and shook her head as he walked out the door with it.
Chapter 4
“DID YOU forget where you’re supposed to be?” Alicia, one of the women from the warren, asked when she passed Clematis as he talked with Grant. “You’re not an instructor.”
Grant stared after her with a frown of concentration, clearly trying to catch what she’d said. But she hadn’t signed or slowed down to let him try to read her lips. It was only when Grant then turned back to Clematis that Clematis realized he’d lost his smile.
He quickly sent Grant back to the library before returning to his desk in the warren. He wasn’t there for five minutes before Mr. Harbaugh came out of his office.
“There’s not enough work up here at this stage,” Mr. Harbaugh announced without preamble, stiff and awkward at the edge of Clematis’s desk. He spoke loud enough to be heard over the sound of many people typing. “If you have time to wander the halls,” he went on pointedly, waiting, although Clematis curled his toes in his shoes and did not look at anyone else in the room, “perhaps you have time to go down to the archives. Someone should separate all the works that have been marked to be kept as hardcopies from the ones that need to be scanned and discarded or simply discarded.”
The archives were in the basement. A huge, cold room with no windows and high metal shelves that cut off light from any other source but the single lamp hanging above each row.
There were hundreds of works left in the archives—journals and old workbooks, recordings from the early days of tape, even some ancient video. Usually someone brought up whatever works were ready to be scanned or transcribed, and everyone worked on them.
“You want me to go down there?” Clematis asked, his wings so still that even Sasha couldn’t have heard them. “Today, or—”
“Until the project is done.” Mr. Harbaugh glanced down at Clematis, gaze lingering and skipping over him at the same time. “If you can handle it.”
CLEMATIS DID not take the long way home or any detours through the university campus. He stopped on the stairs to stand in the early evening sun and soak up its warmth, but knowing the guard was watching made him hurry on.
He stripped off his shirt while waiting for the crosswalk signal and left it hanging from a back pocket. A group of college girls whistled at him from a car, as if he’d done it for them and not to feel free for the first time in hours. He ignored them and pulled the last of his lunchtime candy from his other pocket—two butterscotch discs, a lollipop ring, and a candy bracelet wrapped in plastic. He put the bracelet back and quickly crunched the rest as he walked.
His lunch break had never seemed as short as it did today. Clematis stuck his trash in a city garbage bin and used his palm to wipe some of the dust from his face. His fingertips were gray with dust. Looking at them made his eyes sting, which was stupid. Dust would wash off. He would get home and shower and eat, and then he’d feel better.
He wished fairy forgetfulness extended to the bad things, but it never seemed to. So he clenched his jaw and did not think about Grant, or Sasha, or Mr. Harbaugh, or the sensation of standing at the top of the basement stairs, waiting for the few overheard lamps to stop flickering and light up the darkness. He walked and walked with his head down until he was home.
He slipped in the back entrance again and was grateful the dogs weren’t in the window. He wasn’t in the mood to smile. Maybe he should message Stephanie and see if she was free. She understood him enough to know when he wanted to feel good and didn’t want to talk. She’d exhaust him before she’d give him what he wanted, but right now that almost sounded like relief.
He pushed open his door, sighing to note he’d forgotten to lock it that morning, and then stopped dead in the doorway.
“I didn’t touch anything!” Flor said primly, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a black-eyed Susan behind one ear. His work coveralls were gone. In their place were tiny black jean shorts and a crop top that said Boss. “Except this.” He had a half-finished bottle of soda in one hand, and he was smiling as if he’d been waiting for Clematis to come home. “Okay, I got really close to those.” He gestured toward the bookshelf full of teen romances, and his smile got a little wicked. “But I didn’t touch them. Your door was unlocked and open a crack, you know.”
Clematis opened his mouth, but the breath had been stolen from his lungs.
“I waited outside, but Mrs. Galarza was giving me serious looks,” Flor explained. “Are you normally home this late?”
“You can touch them,” Clematis whispered at last, then shook his head to clear it. “My books, I mean. I don’t care.” He came inside and closed the door.
“You okay?” Flor tipped his head to one side to consider him. “Your wings are usually more still unless you’re using them. Something upsetting you?”
“No. It’s just…,” Clematis answered Flor, tripping over his words, “just work. Yes, but… no. I… had a long day. They sent me to the archives. We—the institute—has been around for over a hundred years, and all the original instructors were sort of pioneers or revolutionary for their time, and all their notebooks are in the archives. The institute wants them digitized and made available in the library as well, which is part of why I was hired, years ago. Me and the other part-time office staff. I just—” Clematis looked around his apartment again, dizzy, but Flor was still there, listening patiently. “The archives are in the basement, and normally they bring stuff up. But I was talking with Sasha”—smiling, trying to explain the MCC to him—“and Mr. Harbaugh saw and sent me to my desk. Then later I was helping a student and Mr. Harbaugh told me I’m working down there for the next few weeks.” In the artificial light, in the dust, among the cobwebs and mysterious echoes. “By myself.” Clematis heard the tremor in his voice and tried to push it away. “I’m to sort out the important stuff from the things we don’t need. By myself,” he said again. “There’s no light there. I don’t understand. My desk is small, but it has light, a window. Giving me a say in what stays doesn’t feel like an honor. Not like this.” He looked earnestly at Flor. “I wasn’t pretending to be a teacher. I know I could never be that. Or do you think Mr. Harbaugh likes Sasha? Is this a punishment for making Sasha smile? I’ve been good. I don’t understand.” Clematis swallowed. “I wasn’t harassing Sasha. I only like to be near him and to make him laugh if I can. They would have said if I was, wouldn’t they?”
Flor slowly put down his soda. “What the fuck?” He had his crusading face on. “They have to know fairies prefer light and fresh air. They can’t just do that to you without a legit reason. Telling you it’s an honor is obvious bullshit. Look at you!” Flor huffed. “You’re paler than usual, and your face is dirty, and I thought you were going to fall over when you came in. What kind of shit do they make you do there? Isn’t it a school for children? Shouldn’t they be understanding and compassionate? Maybe you should look for a new job.”
“I like it—I used to like it there.” Clematis wiped his cheek and probably smeared dust over his nose. “My old boss was nice, and the kids…. I really like the kids.” He wouldn’t see them anymore if he was downstairs all the time. Clematis took a breath and stared down at his shoes. “It’s fine. This is all temporary. I’m going to clean up and eat, and then tomorrow I will be better, and they’ll see. I got the license, after all. And I’ve been on time and fully dressed.”
“Hold up.” Flor got to his feet. “Have they been making you do all of that? Just you?” His wings snapped open. “We should sue. Get one of those beings rights lawyers and sue.”
“Sue?” Clematis raised his head in alarm. “I don’t—it’s nothing. I’ll be better—”
“Okay.” Flor cut him off with one surprisingly gentle word. He held out his hand. “Okay.” Clematis stared at him, uncertain why Flor would use that tone or watch him so carefully. Flor nodded encouragingly, although he s
till had a slight frown. “Go clean up, okay? It will make you feel better. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Clematis wasn’t upset. He was tired. So very tired all of a sudden. “Okay,” he agreed softly. “Give me a minute.” He walked over to the kitchen area and washed his shaking hands before wiping his face with a clean dish towel.
“There you go,” Flor said in approval. “No need to let them see what they’ve done to you. They think fairies are obvious and stupid because we don’t lie. They’re the ones being obvious. They keep changing the rules on you, don’t they? Offering you what seems like respect and equality but always keeping it just out of reach. Using the law to hide how hostile they are to you so if someone questions them, they can say they didn’t do anything illegal, even if it’s wrong and they know it.” Flor sighed. “Human history is full of that. They can be very good at it, even to each other. But you haven’t done anything wrong, okay? I can tell that because you actually care about this job so much that you’d let me see you like this.”
Clematis twisted to look at him. Flor looked back, several emotions flickering across his delicate face, realization and discomfort and then righteous anger again.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Flor repeated himself and then waited. “Okay?” His voice was so soft.
Clematis shivered a little and turned back to the sink. He dried his hands before sweeping his fingers through his hair. He released a long, unsteady breath and realized Flor had seen him shaking. He had no response to that. Talking about it wouldn’t do anything, even if Flor was right.
He took another calming breath before he turned around. “Did you come over just to tell me that?”
“Huh?” Flor’s tone lightened. “Oh. No. I came over to do my laundry, like you offered this morning. Only I was halfway here before I realized I’d forgotten my laundry bag, and I didn’t feel like walking back. It’s not super important, except maybe I’ll run out of towels soon. But I can air dry after my showers.”
Right. Clematis had offered that. Though he hadn’t really expected Flor to take him up on it. Flor was avoiding Tulip and David in their honeymoon phase, but he wasn’t afraid of them or anything.
“Anyway, now I’m hungry,” Flor continued.
“You’re always hungry.” Fairies and werewolves were constantly hungry. But it was easy to tease Flor and to watch Flor wrinkle his nose as if he wanted to be offended and then couldn’t be bothered.
“Oh!” Flor held up his hands and made excited spirit fingers. “Wanna go get something? I just had an idea that will definitely cheer you up!”
“You want to cheer me up?” Clematis heard himself echo in a thin, shocked voice.
If Flor heard, he gave no sign. He patted his shorts again and then scanned the couch until he found his phone. He held it up in triumph, then gestured for Clematis to follow him. “Come on! It’s not even that far!”
WHICH WAS how Clematis found himself in an arcade fifteen minutes later, with sweet coffee in one hand and a donut in the other. Flor had insisted they stop at a deli and pushed jelly donuts at him. After eating two himself, Flor spent the rest of their walk poking at his food belly and laughing at the disgusted expressions of the humans around them.
“Relax! My body is going to use up almost every little bit of it! And even if it didn’t, it’s none of your business what I eat!” he’d sung out, obnoxious and fearless, then steered Clematis into the back end of a bowling alley.
Clematis had never been inside a bowling alley and kept getting distracted by the neon carpet and then the on-again, off-again disco lights. To say nothing of the crash of the pins and the pervasive popcorn smell.
Flor barely seemed to notice any of that. He nagged and prodded Clematis toward the arcade and gestured widely at every beeping machine as if it was an empire of gold. “Right? Pick one and I’ll go get tokens.”
“Pick one?” Clematis swept a blank look over the room. “But… I won’t be good at any of them, Flor.” He had to talk louder to be heard.
“Yeah.” Flor was indifferent to his plea. “No one’s gonna see but me. Just pick something that looks fun and be prepared to die a lot before you figure it all out.”
Clematis waited, but Flor seemed very serious about this, so he looked over the room again. Humans, mostly human males in their teen years, were gathered around games with plastic guns attached to them. Some human children were in driving simulators shaped like cars or motorcycles. He watched an elf step up onto a very large platform that immediately started blasting music. Then the elf began to dance.
Clematis looked at Flor, who grinned. It was very energetic dancing. Clematis finished his last donut and licked his fingers clean before gesturing to a nearby machine. “That one?”
“Ms. Pac-Man?” Flor was surprised, then amused. “Oh man. You picked her for the bow, didn’t you? Okay! Finish your gross coffee. I’ll be right back.”
Clematis watched him go and then didn’t know what to do with himself except stand out of the way so children wouldn’t bump into his wings. He messaged Stephanie: Arcades are loud. And then he looked up as Flor returned.
Flor had a handful of tokens and a large paper cup with a straw, probably full of soda. He tumbled the tokens into a small pile on top of the console part of the machine. “So you gotta eat as much of those little glowing things as you can, while also not getting eaten by those ghost things.”
“I have seen this game played on TV and stuff, Flor,” Clematis insisted, although his stomach was suddenly fluttering with nerves. “Maybe I could just watch you play. You’re probably better at it.”
“Hey.” Flor put his cup on the machine despite the signs asking people not to do that. He looked as if making Clematis comfortable was the most important thing to him at that moment. Flor had always been good like that, even with people he didn’t like. “Hey. This is supposed to be fun. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
“I’m—” Saying he wasn’t freaked-out was impossible. “This is a lot more complicated than reading a comic.”
Flor snorted. “Yeah. Here.” He popped in two tokens and edged Clematis out of the way with his hip. “I’ll play once, okay? I haven’t done this one since I was a kid. I’ll suck too.”
He bent over the screen, hands hovering over the controls, and focused on the screen with an adorable, determined expression.
He died in about three minutes. “Those bastards!” His laugh was merry before he scooped up his cup and took a long pull from the straw. He moved to the side, although not far. When Clematis finished his coffee to wet his parched throat and then reluctantly took his place in front of the machine, Flor’s glitter tickled his hand.
Clematis sucked in a deep breath. “Okay,” he said gamely. This was stupid, but Flor was so happy. “Put in the tokens.”
Flor beamed at him before he popped in two more tokens, and it was easily the friendliest, fondest look Flor had ever given him.
Clematis tore his gaze away and looked at the animations on the screen and held his breath.
He died almost instantly.
Flor didn’t laugh. He did smile a little when it happened again, and then again. But his shout when Clematis managed to make it through the first level before dying turned about a dozen heads in their direction.
“It only took like seven dollars! Not bad!” Flor’s bright expression was nearly as blinding as the carpet.
“It’s just one level, and I still died,” Clematis pointed out, his muscles still tense. It wasn’t fair to have two ghosts gang up on him, not fair at all.
“Whatever,” Flor dismissed that. “You liked it. Your wings gave you away, dude. Now, do you want to stay here, or try another?”
“Don’t you want to play?” Clematis asked in confusion.
“I can play whenever.” Flor rolled a shoulder. “This was about cheering you up, old man.”
“I took a psych class once.” Clematis narrowed his eyes. “They would say a lot about someone focusing o
n something insignificant, like my age, and constantly bringing it up.”
Flor snickered. “Oh yeah? Did you pass that class?”
“They don’t actually give me the exams.” Clematis clucked his tongue and reached into his back pocket for the leftovers from his lunch. He peeled off the plastic and tugged the candy bracelet onto his wrist before he gnawed at his first few pieces. “It would be a waste of their time to give a fairy an exam.”
“Says the guy with the license.” Flor stared hard at the bracelet. “You eat those but complain about soda?”
Clematis shrugged. “I was in a hurry on my lunch break, and these I can eat while working. I remember them tasting better. They used to be cheaper too. I’d get them out of those machines outside the grocery store.” He licked traces from his wrist, then held out his arm. “Want some?”
Flor’s wide eyes went from the unbitten portion of candy dangling from the elastic at Clematis’s wrist, to the gleam of wet skin, to Clematis’s face.
Clematis pulled his arm back. “I wasn’t—”
“I know,” Flor said just as quickly.
Clematis put his wrist to his mouth and bit down on a mouthful of chalky candies. “I’m just hungry,” he explained. He did not flirt with Flor. Not ever. Not once in the years of knowing him. Flor already disliked him. No need to add that.
“I’ll be right back,” Flor called out over his shoulder, already halfway gone.
Clematis watched until Flor’s wings were out of sight, then stared down at the half-eaten bracelet. Stephanie had answered him, he discovered when he checked his phone.
Only a ?? Y r u in an arcade? If she was typing like that, she must be distracted.
He replied, Flor brought me. Then put his phone away.
Two humans were watching him from several machines away. They were older, possibly students at the college, judging from their clothes. And probably straight, also judging from their clothes.
