Page 41 of Nyx
“Nyx,” I choke, jostling his shoulders. “Nyx, sweetheart, you have to get up now. You have to wake up, and we have to take you home. We have to get you out of this rain. Please, wake up,” I beg, the words catching in my throat and splintering.
He shivers again but doesn’t rouse, and a strangled sob rips from my chest. He’s so small. So helpless. A whimper drags my attention to Boomerang sitting beside him. Her fur is soaked and spiky as she paws at the vines that cover Nyx’s feet, and another sob shakes my torso.
“Good girl,” I whisper, and as she stares at me with those wide, sad eyes, I know she never left his side.
Not like I did.
Choking on my regret, I reach for the plants that hold him there, ready to cut him free. But they recede as if they understand my intention, exposing his legs sticking out from his soaked shorts. His bare feet are drawn up as tightly as his body, curled up like they’re trying to disappear. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and fragile, breaks my heart straight down its center.
“Gods, I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have left… I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry,” I ramble helplessly as I hook one arm under the crook of his knees and wedge the other underneath his back. His body is too light, like he weighs nothing at all, as I stand and hug him against me. He’s shivering, clothes plastered against his icy skin.
His eyes dart beneath his lids, faster and faster until they flutter open and meet mine, but I can tell he isn’t present. He whispers in their language, something beautiful I don’t understand, then goes limp in my arms. The storm hasn’t let up, still pouring around us in sheets as I trek back down the path. I move slower, stepping carefully with Boomerang by my side.
When we get closer to the village, she shoots ahead with a mournful howl. By the time the houses come into view, Elas is there waiting with rain dripping down his braids. “Everyone went out to look for you,” he says, his eyes growing wide when they land on the bundle in my arms.
“I’m taking him home,” I snarl, hugging him against my chest.
“Hey, Reyes. Easy, okay? No one is trying to take him from you.” He speaks in soothing tones, like he’s calming a spooked animal. My grip on Nyx tightens further. “Is he alright?”
“I don’t know.” Elas must catch the fear in my tone, because he nods and takes a half step back, clearing my path.
“I understand you don’t want others around, but you need help. You don’t have to do this alone. Why don’t I send Xeni?”
“August,” I insist as I pass him, but Elas catches my shoulder.
“Xeni knows what’s been done to him,” he says softly. “He’s the better choice.” A surge of rage crashes over meas I think about what Nyx has been through, but I push myself to hear the logic in Elas’s words.
“Fine,” I manage, then continue towards Nyx’s cottage without waiting for a response. I hesitate for a moment at his door.
I’ve never been inside, and inviting myself in feels like an invasion of privacy. My gaze moves across the path to my house, but he’s never come inside, either. He would wake up disoriented and scared, in a place where everything is unfamiliar. That alternative hurts worse.
The door creaks as I push it open, and my eyes sweep his nearly empty home. Confused, suffocating emotion builds in my throat as I stare at the only furniture here. A tiny bed is in the corner, wrapped in a holey blanket like someone’s dirty little secret. A tinier table sits beside it, with a glass of water in the center.
There’s nothing else in the room.
No books or rugs, not even a pillow. There aren’t any plants aside from the vines that curtain his windows.
“Gods, Nyx,” I croak as I carry him over to the bed. Rainwater leaves a trail behind us, and I frown at the dripping fabric that covers his shivering form.
I make a quick decision and place him on top of his mattress before dashing over to my house to collect dry clothes for us both. My eyes snag on a few things, and by the time I run back to his cottage, my arms are loaded with sheets, a pillow, a towel, and a thick crocheted blanket. The distance is small enough that nothing gets wet, and as I step inside, Nyx hasn’t moved.
“I’m sorry… I have to get you dry, sweetheart,” I tell him as I work the shirt over his head, exposing his narrow chest underneath. I replace it with my own clean t-shirt before I slide his shorts down, careful to keep him covered. His hair is a mess, soaked and dirty with thick tangles knotting the strands, but for now, I settle for drying it.
He’s still shivering as I balance him in one arm and strip the sheets with the other. Mine are too big for this small bed, but I tuck the corners as best I can and place my pillow on top. Once he’s wrapped in my warm, dry blanket, I lay him down and kneel at his bedside.
He shivers from inside his cloth cocoon, but after a few minutes, color replaces the grayness of his cheeks. His shaking fades to occasional tremors, and eventually the scrunched lines on his forehead smooth. I don’t look away, don’t even think I’ve blinked, when a soft knock taps on the door. Nyx doesn’t stir, so I pry myself from his side. Xeni stands outside with a bag slung over his shoulder.
His apprehension is palpable, his solid white eye darting over my face before dropping to my wet clothes. “You need to dry off,” he finally says.
“And you need to fuck off. I’m not worried about myself,” I snap. Any other time, I’d feel guilty for being so rude, but I don’t have room for anything else in my emotional bank at the moment. Xeni doesn’t react to my temper, only nods his head at the door.
“He’s inside?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping back to let him in. The rain has calmed to a drizzle. Instead of being sopping wet like me, Xeni’s clothes are coated in a fine mist and his hair is damp, the white strands frizzier than usual. He freezes as he steps inside, his eyes moving across the room.
“What?” I demand, guilt forming a ball in my gut at the invasion of Nyx’s privacy. Maybe I should’ve taken him to my house instead.
“Nothing,” Xeni says, too quickly, and tries to offer me a reassuring smile.
