by Mary Dublin
"It scratched me!" Leeana's voice was muffled in Sylvia's ears, but still loud enough to make her tremble. She sounded like she wasn't sure whether to be angry or flabbergasted.
Crouched under Jon's hands, Sylvia still struggled to make sense of the situation. A part of her hoped in vain that it was all a vivid nightmare. But there was no mistaking the very real soreness in her wings from being grabbed. This was absolutely happening.
"Just calm down…" Jon clearly struggled to keep a steady voice. "What are you even doing here, Lee?"
"I just came back to give you your stuff back, a-and then I see you cuddled up with some weird tiny little thing!" There was a pause, only humans' heated breathing for a moment. "Let me see, I'm not going to hurt it."
"No." Jon's voice was firm.
Sylvia fidgeted, becoming more alert and able to think her actions through. She was lucky that Leeana hadn't squeezed tighter in response to being attacked. Her blood chilled at the thought. Looking behind her, Sylvia saw Jon's wrists weren't quite touching, creating a gap. Not wanting to be near any humans at the moment, she took a steeling breath and lunged at the gap to slip out from under Jon's hands. Her wings snapped open the moment she was free, and she darted over the humans' heads without so much as a glance at either of them. From the corner of her eye, she saw them both recoil in shock, but no hands flew up to snatch her.
She made for the ceiling fan and perched on a blade, pointing her wide eyes down at the living room. Hugging her arms to herself, Sylvia panted and tried to keep distressed tears at bay.
"That… holy shit, it's— it's flying!" Leeana shrieked, barely coherent. She looked to Jon, who was slowly sitting up, a guarded look on his face as he peered toward the ceiling. "Jon, why aren't you freaking out about this?"
"Leeana, just go." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sounding more upset by the second.
"But—"
"NOW!"
Even safely upon the blade of a ceiling fan, Sylvia flinched. She had been around Jon long enough to assess that he rarely raised his voice.
Leeana shook her head, her honey-colored waves going wild with the motion. "No. I deserve answers! You were sleeping with it like it was a friggin' teddy bear. Don't try and tell me you don't know what it is."
"Shut up," Jon snapped. "Sylvia has nothing to do with this. This is about you playing the jealousy card after you went around looking for action on the side. And then you had the nerve to try and blame me for that. So no, I don't owe you anything." His pent-up emotions were bubbling over, and Sylvia wanted nothing more than to go to him, but she simply couldn't bring herself to move.
"Sylvia?" Leeana repeated.
Jon clenched his jaw and looked away. Leeana scrutinized his face in the dark.
"You're protecting her," she realized quietly. She frowned. "Please don't tell me you have some type of sick, psycho attachment to her. She's not even a person!"
"How would you know?" he fired back, turning a scathing gaze upon Leeana.
Sylvia cringed. She had never heard such venom in his voice, never seen him look so angry. It had already occurred to her how scary he could be, but now she got a firsthand view of his temper's end.
"Oh God, you do!" Leeana jabbed an accusing finger in his face. "You are such a freak!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Lee—" Jon stood up, gathering her arms to her sides in an attempt to try and usher her toward the door. Leeana bucked against him, still stealing curious looks at the ceiling every chance she got.
Not even a person. The words rang in Sylvia's head over and over. She stood atop the fan blade, wavering at first. Then she straightened and clenched her fists at her sides. The threat of crying had disappeared, repelled by anger. She called Jon a freak, and Sylvia couldn't bear to be silent any longer.
She leaped off the fan and flew down, past Jon. She hovered a few feet away from Leeana with a purely undaunted expression. The room's temperature dropped without so much as an incantation, and the green in her eyes shone a brighter shade than usual.
"I am a person," Sylvia said forcefully, thanking every star in the sky that her voice didn't crack. "I don't need your approval on that. I guess I don't really know what you qualify as a 'person', and quite frankly, I don't care."
She ignored the increasing pain throbbing through her wing and focused on the woman in front of her.
Leeana yelped and clamped a hand over her mouth. At first, she was awed by the fairy's mere presence. But as she processed what Sylvia said, her expression hardened; a girl eyeing another girl as a threat.
"I'll be damned if I'm going to hide from you like a scared little child." Sylvia didn't back off an inch. "You wanted answers, yeah? My name is Sylvia. I'm a fairy. And I may or may be falling in love with a human. I'm still trying to figure that one out." Smiling humorlessly, she shrugged. "But you know what? Even if he decides returning my feelings is too ridiculous, you're still the one who took him for granted. You're still the one getting pushed out the door, even though you're human."
Leeana's face turned flaming pink. She had to know Sylvia was right. She forced a laugh, determined to retain the upper hand, but she sounded nervous. "You… you don't know what you're talking about."
Leeana's eyes flickered back to Jon, and Sylvia couldn't help but glance in his direction too: he was staring fixedly at Sylvia.
"You're both clearly sick in the head," Leeana snapped, drawing Sylvia's attention back to her. "And you—you shouldn't even exist!"
Before Sylvia could react, a hand flew up in front of her. Sylvia threw her hands up in self-defense, but couldn't stop Leeana from flicking her in the stomach. Wincing, Sylvia had no choice but to back off then, prepared to retaliate with magic if she needed to.
"Hey!" Jon's voice shot up to that near-deafening volume again. His strong hand gripped Leeana's wrist before she could do anything further.
"Oh sure, you'll fight for the five-inch wonder," Leeana commented under her breath.
"Stop it!" Jon pleaded.
Sylvia looked between the two humans, shocked to find remnants of love in Jon's eyes mixed with the white-hot anger.
"I could call the cops," Leeana warned. She glared up at Jon with wild eyes, like a he was some rogue fairy who'd gone and absorbed more magic than he could handle. She thought he was insane, Sylvia realized.
"You won't," Jon replied confidently. "There's nothing to tell."
He released her hand, and Sylvia watched as she pressed something into Jon's hand: a jagged piece of metal. Her key to the apartment. He turned it over in his hand before tucking it out of sight in his sweatpants pocket.
"Get out," he ordered quietly.
Determinedly staring at his feet, Jon didn't give Leeana so much as a parting glance. The blonde peered further in the dark, visibly unsettled by the buzz of wings that marked Sylvia's continued presence. Finally, the door closed and her frustrated footsteps disappeared.
"Are you okay?" Jon asked, sounding as relieved to be alone again as Sylvia felt. He raised his head and stepped closer to her.
"I'll let you know when I know," Sylvia replied. Confidence slid off her shoulders. She rubbed the area where she had been flicked; the sharp pain hadn't lasted long, but it had taken a world of self-control to not scratch the woman again.
She made eye contact with Jon for a brief moment before she looked aside hastily. The realization of what she had confessed hit her head-on, making her blush with mortification. That was cut short when she groaned in pain and dropped a few inches—the strain on her healing wing demanded her attention.
Jon cringed forward to catch her, but she fluttered the short distance to the couch and perched on top of the backrest, flexing her wings in an attempt to coax the soreness out. It was written all over his face that he was worried about her wings, but he respected her enough let her handle it on her own, and she was grateful.
There was a certain wariness in her expression when she forced a smile for him. "See? If I was sleepy could I do that?" S
he laughed feebly, rubbing her arms.
A flash of white in the dark—a small smile for her joke. But it was subdued. His thoughts were elsewhere. He stepped up to the back of the couch, his arms hanging lamely by his sides.
Pursing her lips, she gave her head a little shake when she realized she couldn't fake nonchalance. "Are you okay?" she asked. "I mean, she said some… horrible things. I couldn't… I didn't like the way she was talking to you, as if she had any clue what's going on."
"Leeana says some terrible things when she's scared. Some sort of defense mechanism." He shrugged, clearly having experienced a more volatile side of Leeana in the past. Granted, likely not to this extent.
Jon went quiet for a time, focusing on random objects in the room instead of her. She couldn't blame him, since she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes either. When he moved, she didn't look away. He leaned against the back of the couch about a foot away, slipping his hands into his sweatpants pockets.
"You were really brave," he said. "I don't mean that about the size thing. Lee is a difficult person to confront at six-foot-four. I wish I had the guts to call her out on her crap a few months ago."
"Thanks," she said, readily accepting his praise. Her hands still shook from the confrontation, an aftereffect of being overwrought with emotion. But she felt as brave as he was making her out to be.
Swallowing, she stood her ground and finally fixed her eyes on his, unwavering. She knew she wasn't going to get away so easily with what she had said to Leeana. She may have confessed her feelings to him days before, but she knew love was too strong a word to be ignored. The more she thought about it, the more she worried about how ridiculous it must have sounded to him.
Clearing her throat, she scrounged out what was left of her courage. "That's not how I wanted to tell you about—you know. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have ever brought it up on my own," she said apologetically. "I-I hope I didn't embarrass you or… or anything."
Jon's patient poker face was disrupted by a look of incredulity, and she forced herself to keep her eyes pointed at him. "You didn't. If anything, Leeana's done that three times over. I really wanted you to think more of me than what she made me out to be."
"I don't think any less of you for being with her," Sylvia assured. "I can't blame you. You never know a person can't be trusted until it's too late."
"I doubt I'd have that problem with you."
Sylvia's breath caught in her throat as Jon knelt down behind the couch.
"The thing is," he went on, "I don't feel like a freak. Being with you doesn't feel so crazy anymore. It feels… good." He reached up, sliding his hand across the back of the cushion to touch her much smaller set of fingers.
Her heartbeat promptly accelerated, but she didn't shy away from his touch. Running her hand along his warm skin, she explored his kind expression with her eyes, and as always, felt as though her insides were melting from the simple eye contact—in a good way. He was so caring, so genuine that she couldn't immediately find her voice. Before, he had questioned if they were being realistic. Clearly, something had changed.
She wavered, overwhelmed. He wanted to be with her. The insecurities plaguing her mind reasoned that he felt sorry for her, now that she had openly admitted she might love him. But even in the darkness, she could perceive the sincere honesty in those large eyes. He wasn't lying.
Her wings unfolded slowly as she stepped to the edge of the backrest. Feet lifting off the couch, she hovered for a few moments and fought hesitation. Very slowly, she flew to his face with a new confidence instilled in her. She raised her hand and slid it down his jawline until she reached his chin. Shutting her eyes, she moved up a fraction and leaned forward to kiss his lower lip. She lingered for a few seconds, and then pulled back until she could see his eyes again.
"Good?" she asked softly.
Jon's eyes fluttered open to find her hovering a few inches away. He cupped a hand under her feet, and she accepted the offered perch.
"Very," he breathed, lowering his hand and leaning in to gently press his lips to her face.
She became lightheaded as he kissed her, but she didn't feel as though she would faint like an overwhelmed schoolgirl this time. Instead of tensing, she found herself relaxed with their closer than close proximity. A serene smile came to her face when he was finished.
Wings flickering, she drank in what she could of his darkened features. She scooted close enough to lean her cheek against his thumb affectionately.
"Definitely not sleepy anymore," she teased, though her exhaustion was returning now that she was seated comfortably in his hand.
Jon smiled, chuckling quietly as the moment lightened. "Hope that won't stop you from keeping me company again." He moved his thumb back against her ever so slightly, equivalent to leaning against her, or perhaps resting his head on hers. He rose to his feet with slow care and started for the bedroom.
The storm had quieted now, and the alarm clock display flickered in and out, demanding to be reset. Sylvia frowned briefly at the unfamiliar box that occupied the foot of his bed. Though Jon never explained, the gruff manner in which he tossed it into a corner of the room was reminiscent of the way he had all but pushed Leeana out the front door. She decided it best to keep her curiosity to herself.
Jon slipped under the cool sheets of his bed, his motions rocking Sylvia in his hand like a boat adrift in a storm.
Once he was settled on his side, he lowered his hand flat to the mattress next to him. Sylvia wavered as she stepped onto the uneven surface of the bed, making her way to his pillow. She gripped the soft fabric and hoisted herself up, rolling onto her side to see his face.
After regarding him silently for a second, she gave him a sheepish smile when she realized she had made herself comfortable so near to him without a second thought.
"Is this okay?" she asked.
Jon smiled, eyes at half-mast as he drank her in. "It's great." His voice was quieter, deeper as he drew closer to sleep. He curled his arm loosely around her—giving her plenty of room, but surrounding her all the same.
"You proved me wrong 'bout that all-nighter, y'know," he mumbled.
"Sure did," she whispered, though she knew he was already far away.
For a few minutes, she simply watched him as drowsy questions swam through her mind while his warm breath caressed her. What did he dream about? Did he dream at all? Or was his mind completely shut off, contentedly buried in pitch-black slumber?
Eventually, her thoughts slowed down. She gave in and allowed herself to be pulled under, falling to sleep with the lovely feeling that someone genuinely cared for her.
Seventeen
The morning brought hazy sunlight and the smell of pavement after rain. Sylvia groaned sleepily as the brightening light hit her eyes. She rolled onto her back, the soft surface of the pillow cushioning her wings. She let out a wide yawn and peered to the side.
She was greeted by the sight of Jon staring at her, his head occupying the same pillow she lay on. There was drowsiness in his gaze that told her he hadn't been awake for much longer than she had. A pair of giant eyes gazing at her from such proximity should have at least made her flinch, but she gave him a groggy smile instead. She could trust those eyes.
"Mornin'," she murmured. She sat up with another yawn, stretching her arms over her head and letting her wings unfurl behind her. "Sleep well?"
"Mm—like a rock. Rain does that to me." He blinked a few times, and giving her a front row seat as his pupils adjusted to the newfound light of morning. "Hey, how are your wings feeling? You really pushed yourself yesterday."
"Sore," she admitted, taking a glance at her healing wing. There was a noticeable inconsistency on the intricate pattern that indicated where the bullet had torn through. "I think the inner workings need some time to heal naturally, but I don't think I can speed that up with magic. Wings are too complex for me."
Jon nodded, eyeing the injury with concern, mingled with the usual fascination he se
emed to have for her wings. "Just take it slow."
She folded her wings down and stood on the cushy surface of the pillow. She frowned at the untouched bed on the other side of the room. "Cliff hasn't shown up?"
He pushed himself up with a certain amount of care, glancing down at Sylvia as if he expected her to be sent rolling down the pillow from the slightest motion on his part.
"He must've got held up by the storm last night," Jon remarked. "He's fine, I'm sure. Not much can keep him down for long."
With another half-awake sigh, he finished throwing off the covers and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. Far more affected by that movement, Sylvia wobbled and lost her balance, falling into a crouched position. Dealing with his comparatively enormous movements was beginning to feel more second-nature than anything. She inched forward and dropped onto the firmer surface of the mattress.
"If you say so." Despite Jon's assurance, she worried. The storm had sounded brutal enough indoors.
Her thoughts strayed when Jon grunted under his breath. She looked up—a flustered smile found its way to her lips when she saw him stretching out, his biceps pulling his sleeves taut. Her first instinct was to look away to avoid being rude, but then she remembered those rules didn't necessarily apply anymore. She openly stared at his groggy features, wondering how it was possible for someone so big and daunting to look cute while half-awake.
"You look like you could use some coffee," she laughed.
"Mmph." He gave a sleepy grunt and bent down to pick her up. "You read my mind."
Sylvia knew she'd seen it all when Jon cooked her cake for breakfast. Flat cakes from a pan instead of a wood-burning stove, but cake all the same. She marveled at her own adaptability as she pushed another spongy piece of cake between her lips. Sitting here with Jon should have been awkward or bizarre beyond words. But it was easy. Natural. The events of the night before buzzed in her mind, and she had no doubt Jon was thinking about it, too. Yet neither of them brought it up, perfectly content in each other's company.