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“No, well,yes. But I don’t have the space in my life for a mate. I have the tavern. I haveyou…”
Mauvy rolls her eyes, carrying too many bowls into the small basement that acts as a cool room for the tavern. There is silence for a moment until she reappears, looking exasperated with me.
“Yes, that does sound like a very full life there, Roan. Absolutely no space for a partner or someone to stand by your side or warm your bed. Absolutely chock-a-block full.” The sarcasm drips from her like honey.
“I’m too old for him, Mauvy. He’s got his whole life ahead of him; he has been through all of this shit and lost his gift. He is going through this massive traumatic life event where everything he’s ever known has been ripped from him all at once; he has infinite possibilities ahead of him. It’snotthe time for me to go all domineering berserker weirdo on him.”
Mauvy lays both hands wide on the table, fixing me in place with a knowing look over the rim of her glasses. “You’re making excuses, Roan. And shit ones at that. I get it, you’re scared of hurting him more than he has been. Maybe he doesn’t need everything right now,Roan. But hedoesneed a friend. And if you can keep your berserker instincts in check—like I know you can—and your dick in your pants, that might get to be you.”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat.Friend. The feral voice in my head rebels at the idea, pushing me to do something irrevocably stupid, like pick up that idea that Mauvy had a moment ago about just throwing him over my shoulder and locking us in my little house until we were too drunk on cum to think.
But I think I can do friendship. It’s what I’d been trying for until he snuck up on me while I was resting and traced those delicate fingers all over my tattoos, right the way up to my cock. I nod resolutely at Mauvy, who gives me a tight mouthed smile in return, eyes full of sympathy.
Friends it is, then.
***
To my great disappointment Theo doesn’t come down to join me at the bar later that evening. He’d snuck in while I was serving, arms loaded down with an insane amount of bags, the happiest smile I’d ever seen plastered on his face.
Jealousy churned in my gut thatIhadn’t been the one to put that smile on his face, but whenever it rises, I just continue the constant litany of “just friends” in my head. It hasn’t sunk in yet, but I am hoping. Instead, I work my shift, resolutely keeping my temper in check, one eye constantly on the stairs, the other firmly closed against the sympathetic looks thrown my way by the staff and patrons until I finally close the bar in the dark hours of the morning.
***
It's well into the afternoon when I make my way to the cottage. One of the only real drags of running the tavern is the strange work hours. The place basically consumes my life, Mauvy’s too, especially since we live on the property. We’re often up all night and sleep away the mornings.
Since Mauvy had moved mainly to the kitchens, she managed to wrangle a more normal sleeping schedule, but mine was still subject to the whims of closing time. I try to not roster the others on close too often, even though we’re probably at the point of needing more staff and giving some of the regulars more responsibilities. Maybe we could free up more time for ourselves?
The door is unlocked, the knob surprising me as it twists easily in my hand, swinging open to reveal the loud grunts and thudscoming from upstairs. I cautiously approach the stairs, but they creak under my heavy frame - the boards in need of replacing - warning whoever is there of my presence.
I don’t know who I was expecting, considering there is little chance of it being anyone but him or Seff, but I’m startled when Theo’s head pops out the second bedroom doorway, stubbing my toe on the stairs when I stumble. The sharp stabbing pain in my big toe immediately lessens when he smiles brightly at me, highlighting the dark smudges under his eyes.
Theo only pauses for a quick hello before ducking back into the second bedroom where he is working on stripping back the carpets. The musty grey rolls are all stacked neatly in the corner where he’d cut them into manageable rolls to be hauled downstairs, so I silently grab the first one and started carrying them down.
We work in silence for the rest of the afternoon, pulling the room apart until I have to go get myself cleaned up for work. I don’t want to leave him and linger pathetically in the door as we say our goodbyes.
He seems completely unbothered by my leaving, waving at me and calling “seeyalater!” over his shoulder before pulling at a loose skirting board to inspect the damage.
At least he’s not upset with me anymore. He’s happy, that’s what matters. I try to convince myself that I am perfectly fine with his apparent moving on. It’s a good thing, right? My feet thundering down the stairs is just because I’m in a rush, so is that tight feeling in my chest. Not because of what might be the cause of him being so happy with our totally platonic working relationship.
By the time I get myself cleaned up and behind my bar, I still haven’t been able to successfully gaslight myself into being okay with him being okay. But I do manage to wrangle my emotionsinto lockdown enough to be able to play the friendly barkeeper role.
I only catch a flash of him, late in the evening, covered head to toe in dust and dirt. He smiles at me briefly, the same one he gives Seldon or any of the others, not the pretty, flirty smile I’d gotten so used to, waving across the tavern on his way up the stairs.
I keep an eye on the stairs for the rest of the night, enduring the constant ribbing of the regulars who were more like friends. My attention hasn’t escaped their notice, and they all like Theo, trying to include him and make him welcome wherever they can. Whether or not Theo knows it, he is a being of the Whisper Woods now, and the other beings here have his back.
Theo doesn’t make his way back down. I finish closing the place out and lock the doors to make my lonely way back to my cottage, keeping an eye out for the light in his window. But his curtains are drawn, the lights seemingly off for the night.
The week continues in the same pattern. I try to make it to the cottage by midday, bringing the lunch Mauvy has waiting. We eat quickly, and I help out with whatever project he’s already started until I have to leave to shower and get ready for my evenings in the tavern.
At least, as the week progresses, the uneasy silence slowly disappears until we are back to chatting and laughing easily as we work side by side, peeling the ugly, aged wallpaper from the walls, sanding down the window sills, patching holes and what feels like constantly cleaning.
Despite the conversation flowing freely between us again, there are obvious boundaries we’re both wary to cross. And you never seem to know when you’re stepping on a landmine.
I tell him stories about growing up here with Mauvy. He still doesn’t believe me that Mauvy and I used to love to party back in the “olden days” as he likes to call them. He certainly didn’tbelieve me when I told him that Mauvy used to be a known rave queen until I managed to dig out an old photo from one of our many nights out.
I don’t miss the sliver of envy that sneaks into his voice when I tell him the stories of our old partying days. It only hardens my resolve not to tie him down. Tie him tome.
Theo, I’ve noticed, is an expert at sharing a lot without sharing absolutely anything. Even after the stories of growing up in his castle-like mansion with his nannies, and all his studies at the university, it still feels like I know nothing about him other than the things I’ve learnt since we met.
