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Deep breath in, deep breath out. Just like Theo taught me.
“That’s enough! Let him breathe for the love of the Gods.” Edith shoulders her way through the crowd, her voice breaking through the chorus, until she is directly in front of me. The air shimmers around her, her magic unrestrained.
“Well, this feels familiar doesn’t it?” Her big violet eyes meet mine. There is a joking tinge to her voice, but it’s fragile, like the grasp we all have on our sanity right now. Her nose twitches like she is holding back a sniff, daring the tears to fall. I can only reply with a tight smile and a shrug, Theo’s limp body rising with my movements, causing his arm to flop from where it was resting across his chest.
A choked gasp, followed by a whimper escapes from Tor, hovering at my elbow.
“He’s not-” The words are watery—he can’t even finish his sentence. Caelan tugs his mate tighter under his arm. There aretears on his face, too, as he pulls Tor’s head into the crook of his neck.
“No.” I manage to choke the words out around the emotion clawing at my tongue. “No, he’s breathing.”
While I reassure everyone, Edith runs her hands lightly in the space just above Theo’s body, her eyes closed, once again assessing his body. She flinches and then does it again.
I desperately want to shake her, scream at her to tell me what she sees, but I don’t. Instead I watch Mauvy, working in the background as always, rounding up the rescue party with Tarook to send them back to the tavern. She catches my eye and signals that she’s going to leave with the others, and I nod briefly, mouthing my thank you across the clearing, but she only waves me off with her usual smile. Doing for each other is what we do.
“What’s the verdict, doc?” Seldon has stuck behind with us. His fingers are knotted tight in Seff’s fur and they are leaning together, wolf-Seff whining softly.
“Our boy’s okay. He’s distressed but resting.” Edith gently trails a bony white finger over Theo’s cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, leaving a smudge of red lipstick behind. Behind his closed eyelids, Theo’s eyes flicker under her touch, a soft whimper breathing from him before he resettles. My heart lurches once again at the sound.
“Come on, why don’t we head back to the tavern?” Caelan’s calm voice breaks through the moment, and I nod, shifting Theo so he is more secure in my arms.
“Right, let’s head home.”
***
We only made it as far as my house. I didn’t want to take Theo back to his room in the Black Stump. I don’t want him waking up in that bed, falling back into the same depression. Hiding fromthe world in his cocoon again. Instead, Theo is settled on my bed, wrapped up in my old quilt and a hand knitted blanket my grandmother gave to me as a kid.
He looks odd in my space, maybe because I’ve never really thought of it as my space? It’s just the place that I sleep sometimes. The tavern is my real home. And Inigo’s cottage, or, well, Theo’s house now. I guess it really is ours now if he still wants it to be. I tear my eyes from his resting form on my bed and scrub my hand over my face, turning to the surplus of people in my home.
There are really only two rooms in the place. The door opens to an open plan, with an L-shaped room, the tiny kitchenette and dining area in the immediate entry. A small living area, really just a couple of small couches and a bookcase, separates the “kitchen” from the bedroom area and has the door to the bathroom.
My bed is on a raised floor, giving it the illusion of being its own separate space. The bed is nothing special, just a mattress on an ensemble base and a couple of wardrobes I picked up at the big box store a few towns over.
Considering most of my hook ups either happen when I’m in town or in the tavern, I’ve rarely brought anyone back here, certainly notthismany people. I’ve never really considered how little effort I’ve put into this space. Especially with how much effort we, Mauvy and I, have put into the tavern.
The walls are white, the couches barely comfortable, the cabinets generic fake wood from the hardware superstore. There are some framed photos on the bookcase, my parents, my uncle, Mauvy, and me over the years, moments from the Black Stump. It’s probably the only noticeable stamp of my specific existence in this space.
Edith is currently inspecting every single one of the photos, smiling softly at the younger faces of Mauvy and me out atfestivals or on holidays. Tor and Caelan are cuddled together on the couch facing Theo. Despite the heat of the day, I made everyone tea just for something to keep my hands busy. Tor has his mug grasped tightly in his hands, staring at his brother like he can will him awake. Caelan is next to him, rubbing his back, staring off like he isn’t really here.
Seff and Seldon are on my only two dining chairs, Seldon awkwardly watching everyone like he desperately wants to say something but isn’t sure what. I sympathise because what can we say?
Seff, poor Seff, is obviously struggling, leg bouncing under the table, knocking it every so often, sending tea all over the table.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, sopping up the mess with a tea towel I’d thrown him the first time it happened. But I wave him off. It’s fine. Well, nothing’s fine right now, but the spilled tea is fine.
“I have food,” Mauvy announces as she swings open the door. The bang as it hits the wall makes everyone startle. Mauvy watches us all with a raised eyebrow, carefully placing her basket on the bench and digging out the sandwiches she’s brought over.
Mauvy, like all fauns, is a big believer in food solving all ills. Shifters might be touchers—they need it to feel connection to themselves and others. Fauns show their love, for each other and for life, with food and wine.
One by one, Mauvy hands everyone their sandwiches, each one made specifically with our favourites. She even puts a plate of brownies out too. Only murmurs of thank you ripple through the room. I take a large bite of the roast beef with relish and lettuce on rye and nudge her with my hip when she settles next to me at the kitchen counter. She leans in close, resting her head on my elbow.
“I should have known.” Tor is the first to cave, breaking the silence as we eat. I look up at the tears streaming down his face, then look back to Mauvy and my mostly eaten sandwich. Did sheenchant them to make us talk? She one hundred-percent knows what I’m thinking, scoffing and hitting my stomach with the back of her hand.
“You’re an idiot.” She mumbles at me on her way to join Edith and Caelan in wrapping Tor in a firm hug.
“How were you meant to know?” Caelan rocks him gently in the group hug.
“If I was a better brother, if I had just talked to him-” Tor hiccups and sobs his way around the words.
