“I’m capable of defending myself, Luca. I don’t need someone to fight for me,” he said, glancing from Luca to the frosted window.
“Everyone needs someone to fight for them. Give yourself enough time and you’ll fight for him, too.” The floor flexed under Luca’s shifting weight. “I’m stealing leftover dessert,” Luca sang, tapping their fingers on the wall. “Interested?”
“Thank you, but I’ll pass. I should probably try to get some sleep, anyway.”
“Suit yourself. Goodnight, little battle bird,” they said. Their footsteps faded as they crossed the bottom of the staircase and made for the kitchen. Another quip drifted over their shoulder before they disappeared around the corner. “You are, indeed, allowed tolikehim. Shocking, I know.”
“Shocking,” Briar parroted, laughing under his breath.
He sipped his tea and sat precariously on the edge of the windowsill, balancing on his rounded heels. Before he lost his nerve, he opened his text messages, squinting at the harsh, bright screen.
Briar:Are you awake?
Aster (Bat Emoji):I might be
Briar:Do you want company?
Aster (Bat Emoji):What kind of company?
Briar huffed. He read the text three times.
Briar:The kind who brings you tea
Aster (Bat Emoji):Extra honey
Briar snorted but made sure to spoon extra Manuka honey into Aster’s mug. He crept down the hall in the east wing, following textured, floral wallpaper, and artwork hung between unlit candleholders. He recognizedThe Witches’ Sabbathby Francisco Goya. Closer to Aster’s door, a winding compilation of snake bones were pinned to the wall in the shape of an ouroboros. He knocked. The door floated open, already unlocked and ajar.
Aster’s lair was as dramatic as the rest of the house. The white walls were accented with framed artwork and bleached animal skulls, and a set of French doors opened to a simple balcony covered in heaping piles of fresh snow. Claw-shaped hooks held back thick maroon curtains, exposing paneled windows. Across from his surprisingly simple bed, an aquarium stretched from floor to ceiling, built into the wall and filled with driftwood, ferns, and exotic plants.
“You have a snake,” Briar said, dumbly.
A reticulated python—no, agiganticreticulated python—flicked its tongue, curled comfortably around a branch beneath a heat lamp.
“Chastity, meet Briar, Briar, meet Chastity,” Aster said. He propped his hip against a sleek, wooden dresser. A paper-thin TV hung above it.
“Is she friendly?”
“Sometimes.”
Briar shot him a quizzical look. How could a reptile that size live in your house and not be friendlyallthe time? He held his tongue and kicked off his house-shoes. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Had a late call. Couldn’t settle after,” he said. He grabbed the mug, pinching the circular top with his fingers. “You?”
The only light in the room came from Chastity’s aquarium, pouring over the floor and Aster’s feet, casting a yellow glow on his clavicles and the line of his shoulders. Joggers hung low on his hips. Gray, simple. Probably (stupidly) designer. His beauty glinted the same way a blade would, finely sharpened and expertly crafted.
Briar almost forgot to answer. “Clippings,” he blurted, which was a quarter of the truth. The rest stood before him. “Sometimes they’re uncomfortable.”
“They’ll be easier to deal with once they’ve healed. I’d usually say you’ll start seeing regrowth in the next year or two, but with the removal being what it was, it might take longer.”
“Have you ever seen clippings like mine before?” He sipped his tea, toeing the bedroom door shut.
“Not in a long while.”
“But you have?”
“I have, yes.”
“And the ones who were clipped—they deserved it?”