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"Why won't you allow yourself to be happy?" She doesn't follow me, forcing me to stop.
"Eris, he's happy in there!" My tone is biting, more so than I mean it to be, but if I trust her like I claim I do, then I need to start being open and honest. "If I go in there, I will draw that scowl of his. That is his sanctuary, his place to be fully at peace. Don't you think if he wanted me to know about this part of his life, he would have told me about it himself?"
She takes a minute to gather her thoughts before sweetly asking, "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe he is giving you the space and time you need and want to adjust to Tronovia? That he isn't trying to force you to be a part of his life? Maybe he wants you to take that first step."
"It doesn't matter, Eris," my voice cracks and I hate that my lower lip trembles. "Even if I did open up to him, allowed myself to fall for him, truly fall for him, it would end the same way."
"Oh really, and how is it supposed to end?"
"With me leaving." I say as if it's obvious.
She steps toward me, a brokenhearted gleam in her eyes. "Why do you have to leave at all?"
"You know I can't stay here forever." I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes and groan. "He's too good for someone like me."
"Explain," she says with more force than I'm used to from her.
"He fights to protect his people, he teaches wielders to use their magic, and somehow manages to teach art on the side. Sure, he's still a pain in my ass, but I'm realizing how badly I misjudged him. I'm remembering all the terrible things I called him – " I suck in a deep breath to keep the tears stinging my eyes at bay. "I have nothing to offer him, Eris."
She lunges for me and wraps her arms around me, tugging me close. "I love you, Shaye," she whispers, "but you're being an idiot."
"Eris!" I scoff, but she won't release me from her hold.
She pulls back just enough to meet my enraged gaze. "I've known Atlas for a couple of years now and I can tell you with absolute surety that I have never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. He's more open with you than anyone else I know, including his brothers. And even if it's just your hand that you extend in friendship, you always have something to offer."
I slither out of her grip and retreat a step. "Nothing you say will – "
"You're punishing yourself." Not a question, an accusation.
"What? Why would I – "
"I did it, too." Her confession silences me. "After Finn helped me escape Hydra, I spent the first few months punishing myself for being happy, for feeling at peace. I kept reminding myself that I abandoned my family, my home, my people. Worse, I killed my husband. It didn't matter that they all harmed me, that they abused me. I shouldered that guilt and denied myself pleasure. I didn't pursue friendships or potential romance with anyone. Anytime the Harlands invited me to go to Prue's or to a family event, I would turn them down. I spent months in the rowhouse, away from everyone, thinking it was better that way."
"What changed?"
"I did," she smiles. "I realized I didn't need to live with guilt or shame shrouding me. I survived and deserved to live. I deserved to be happy. And Finn never stopped reaching out to me. Just like Atlas won't stop reaching out to you. Just like I won't stop reaching out. You don't have to punish yourself because you are happy, Shaye."
Deep down in the depths of my broken and crushed soul, I know she's right, but the thought of living with the mindset of I deserve to be happy is something I need to learn how to do.
Eris extends her hand, "Would you like to go inside?"
Everything within me screams to take her hand, to slip inside the studio and make the effort to show Atlas that I want to be included in his world. But I can't. Call it fear, insecurity, self-loathing – I can't and won't walk through that door and lay my burdens at his feet. He deserves better than me.
I shake my head and even though her smile falters, she doesn't press me, nor does she question me. She snakes her arm around mine again and leads me down the street.
"Maybe next time," she whispers, and I nod.
"Maybe next time."
Twelve
Shaye
Nyx is sick and everyone knows it. Between the constant fidgeting to find a comfortable spot in his bed, to him refusing food and drink even though he's so cranky he needs it, Nyx Harland is easily the most annoying invalid. I fluff his pillows and bring him a second blanket when he complains about being chilled. Finn brews him a cup of tea and brings him some medicine that I secretly hope will knock him out and force him to sleep the rest of the day.
When it comes time for me to get ready to go to school, Nyx attempts to drag himself out of bed so he can accompany me. I protest, insisting he should stay in bed and rest. Quite honestly, I don't want him whining all day when I have things to do, and I certainly don't think he will be able to effectively protect me should I need help. His eyes are hooded and hazy and his cheeks are rosy, but the moment he smears snot across his face with the back of his hand like an ailing child, I muster the willpower not to retch. Calmly, without staring at the gross trail marring his cheek, I hand him some tissue, so he can clean his face.
"If I can't go with you," Nyx fusses between nose-blows, "then you can't go either."
