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He could honestly run the place in his sleep, so I leave him to it. Mauvy heads out back to check on her kitchen hands, while the others just sit….
Patrons come and go from the table to visit and have a chat and, on the outside, things seem normal. But inside, we are all freaking out, every single one of us reliving the fear from Theo’s rescue.
When Seldon hurries back into the tavern, the kitchen door thuds against the wall as he slams it open in a hurry. A strange sense of calm settles over the table, conversations cease, the answer clear well before Seldon, hands wringing, voice strained, confirms our worst fears.
Theo is missing.
Theo
Darius keeps talking, butI’m having trouble keeping track of the words coming out of his mouth, my brain too busy scrambling to catch up.
Why is he here?
What does he want?
Why does he keep touching me?
Sure, I might have the answers to those questions if I listened, but his hand is on my kneeagain, and my senses are at panic stations. I just want to run upstairs to my room, lock the door, and wrap myself up like a burrito until the thundering screaming in my head stops.
Shit.
Darius is looking at me like I’m meant to be answering. My lip has found its way between my teeth, and I can taste the blood where I have chewed on it too hard.
How had I ever thought his face was handsome? It is good looking, yeah, but devoid of personality, oflife. There is nothing in his eyes. Like affection is just a mask slipped on his face, a role he is playing.
How have I never seen this before? Was I always so blind?
Well, yes.
To fight the overwhelming urge to flee, I focus on my breathing, cycling my breath in and out, until it steadies again. Darius takes both my hands in his, leaning forward to do so as I’d somehow shuffled my chair back while I’d been zoned out.
“Theo, are you okay, my love?” Man, it seems like I’ve missed a lot, what the fuck?
I try to pull my hands out of his grasp, but he holds tight, squeezing my fingers with punishing strength. His thumbs stroke my hands in a way that emulates soothing to the observer, but his grip doesn’t loosen until I quit resisting.
“How overwhelmed you must be, here, in this… place.” I’ve never been a violent man, but the snobbish sneer on his face when he casts his eye over the Black Stump Tavern helps replace some of my anxiety with rage. My palms itch to smack the look off his face.
“But never mind that, Theo. I’m here for you now. There was talk, back at the University, about what happened. I spoke to the Dean, and he confirmed that you weren’t returning and that you…” A passably believable look of empathy moves over his face, and he leans even closer, hinting at my lost gifts.
A shudder ripples up my spine, but I don’t pull back. This was the plan, wasn’t it? The one I made with Dr. Brordieu? To talk, clear the air. Another deep breath. This is a good thing. Even if it feels incredibly, cosmically wrong.
Darius sighs, that sigh he always did when I had disappointed him or failed to live up to his expectations. “I want you to know that I forgive you Theo. That it doesn’t matter tomethat you lost your gifts or that you ran away. Or that you didn’t answer my calls when I needed you. There is no need to be ashamed, I am still here for you.”
His voice is soft still, wrapping around me like a ribbon. Unbidden, those old feelings stir deep in my gut, throwing my world as I know it off its axis, clouding my judgement until it settles around me like a fog.
“I-I-” I shake myself, trying to clear my head of the shame and guilt, to remember the points that I had gone over with Dr Brordieu, but for the life of me I can’t seem to remember them. “What about Mathilde? You’re going to marry her. You said-”
He squeezes my hands again, eyes flicking cautiously around the tavern when I hiss loud enough to draw the attention of others. “My darling Theo, that was nothing. I swear it. Why don’t we go somewhere more private? The beings here, they are so…unseemly. I can explaineverything.”
In the very distant back of my mind there is a fuzzy voice yelling a warning, cursing a storm that he was talking shit about myfriends. But it is quickly snuffed out. Darius would never hurt me, the more logical, reasonable voice reassures me. He’s safe—he cares about me. The first flicker of real emotion flashes in his eyes as I nod, satisfied that I have agreed.
Leading Darius to the table filled with my brother and my friends and most importantly, Roan, is a surreal feeling. He keeps trying to touch me, to lead me, with a hand on the back or the arm, but each time a fiery spark warns me of his touch, and I jump from his reach.
It’s a stark contrast to the safety I feel when Roan does the same thing. Everything about this interaction feels vaguely wrong, like it is happening beside me, not to me. But I can’t seem to stop it all from happening.
The adrenaline of the moment is making me feel like I’m watching the scene from outside my body as I reassure them, play-acting normalcy, even maintaining my newfound sass like a puppet. My mouth aches as I mouth “I love you” across the tavern to Roan.
Darius keeps close as I lead him down the path to the house, and I can feel the judgement rolling off him. The knowledge feels exterior to me, outside of my body.
