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I try to will myself to stand up, but I seem to have no agency over my body. On the other side of the door I can hear whispers. They sound angry. Harsh. And I glare at them, the people I cannot see, the people disturbing my rest.
I definitely need rest. Rest is a good idea.
Weariness washes over me, and I slide back between the still warm sheets of the bed. It’s better this way. I squeeze my eyes shut against the world, against the black thoughts swirling in my subconscious, burrowing myself into the blankets like a child afraid of the dark.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll get up and face them. Face it all.
***
I do not, in fact, get up tomorrow. Or the next day. According to the group of people huddled around my bed whispering incredibly rudely, I have been in my cocoon for three days.
Well, not continuously.
I’ve left it to go to the bathroom. And pick at the food Seldon has been leaving, like a little mouse stealing crumbs in the night. He has come the past couple of days, fussing and tutting while he tidied the room. Today he is joined bythem.
All of them.
Edith is crouched next to me, her crazed violet eyes sad as she pokes and prods in my head. I can feel her there, but have no energy to push her out. Or even the magic to do so.
Let her look, it’s just a swirling black mass anyway.
My brother, Tor, sits on the bed, his face tight withconcern,and I don’t think he realises he is actually sitting on my foot. He’s heavy, and he’s squashing the ball of my foot, but I don’t move it. The pressure feels nice.
His bonded mate, Caelan stands by his side, leaning against him, and I can see him rubbing Tor’s shoulder. Comforting him. I’m glad they have each other. Tor deserves that kind of love and happiness.
Seff is behind me. I can feel the heat of him, even through the layers. When they invaded my room, he’d dive bombed the bed with his giant body, almost crushing me in my tight nest. He’d caught himself just before he’d done any actual damage, and now his big body is pressed against me, his heavy arm over my body like a weighted blanket.
And, finally, Roan. I can see him, just out the corner of my eye, half obscured by the quilt I have refused to take off my head. Roan hangs back silently by the corner of the bed opposite me, his arms crossed across his chest, making the sleeves of his white shirt bulge and protest, his chin angled down while he frowns intensely at me.
I think I’ve made him mad.
“What’s going on, Theo?” Tor pats my calf through the mound of blankets. I can’t really feel it, but he does realise he’s on my foot and shifts so he’s no longer crushing it. I don’t flinch though, just blink at him once and continue staring off into the room. Because I don’t know how to answer the question. I don’tknowwhat’s going on. I’m just… hollow.
“I don’t get it, he was okay on the way home? I thought he was, well, not okay, but you know…” Seff whispers, like he isn’t right next to my ear. He quickly realises his mistake, and his arm tightens around my middle in a quick hug.
There is a grunt from somewhere off to the side, and I know it’s Roan doing that weird grumpy thing he does. I just keep ignoring them. Edith reaches out and strokes my face with one milky white, bony hand, her vibrant red lips twisting into a sad smile.
“Sometimes these things can be delayed. Like shock. The high of being rescued probably got him home, and now he’s here…” There is another voice, I can’t hear what they say but I recognise it from his time fussing in my room, talking to himself, talking to me.
Seldon is in here too. Great, everyone’s here for the intervention. Amazing.
“We shouldn’t have left him alone that first night.” Somewhere in the deep dark depths of my pity party the guilt in Tor’s voice pierces something inside me. But it’s still not enough to make me haul myself out of my bed. Instead, my body seems to sink further into the soft mattress.
It really is a nice mattress.
I can see Caelan rubbing Tor’s shoulder, and he leans down to press a kiss to my brother's head, before he crouches down so he is eye level with me. His green eyes are filled with concern, just like everyone else's. But there is something else, less like pity. More like understanding.
“Theo, I don’t know what you’re going through, but I’d like to understand,” his voice is deep and rumbly. I try to hold his eye contact but my tears make my vision all fuzzy. Caelan’s mouth tries to smile, but it is more like a straight line, his lips turning in on themselves. “We’re here for you. If you want to come back to the farm with us, you can.”
There is a sharp intake of breath, almost a growl, from somewhere in the room. Then a cough.
I don’t want to go to the farm though. Tor and Caelan deserve their privacy. Their chance to figure stuff out, without me weighing them down. And, even though I’m not acting like itright now, I meant what I said when Caelan made the offer a few days ago on our trek home. I want to do things on my own.
“We have clothes for you,” Seldon pipes up again. “They are old as fuck, and definitely not my style anymore. I knew I’d kept them for a reason. Anyway, I brought some that you can borrow until you get yourself sorted.” He waves at the pile of jeans, tee shirts and sweaters stacked on one of the dining chairs.
My nod is barely imperceptible, but he must notice because he winks his bright yellow eyes at me in that breezy way he has.
Shameful gratitude burns my throat like acid. He really didn’t have to do that, I mean, I hadn’t spoken a word to Seldon in all the times he’d come into my room. I hadn’t even acknowledged his existence, just ignored him like a sparkling, pretty bird flitting around my room.
