13.5 Fic: New Rules

“What can I say,” Cypher laughed, just a little out of breath from jumping and reaching after his very generously offered coin which Mirage still held unfairly out of reach - only because you can hover – “You’re...”   His tongue was arched at the back of his mouth, all set for the consonant, it was a breath away. Cute.   No, nonono.   “-funny,” he said, forcing the switch and suppressing any sign of original intent from his features with equal urgency, “when you’re mad.”   She stuck her tongue out at him, turning on her heel. Flipped his coin over her shoulder at him, paying for her letter with Cri’s loan. He barely caught it.   Just as well he had a second with no eyes on him to breathe. Or try to.   What in all the hells was that, you absolute fucking moron?   Cri and Mirage were turning toward the door.   A slip. It’s fine. It happens. Not even a slip. An almost-slip. With Mirage. Jesus fucking christ. No. Absolutely fucking not, no.   He followed them outside, face studiousy neutral.   Mirage adjusted her pace, falling in beside him. She was still smiling. It glittered across her freckles and spread, contagious, to the playful currents of air eddying through her hair. ‘Cute’ had to be the world’s biggest understatement. He started sorting through alterntatives before he realized what he was doing. Dazzling? A star on earth? Breathtaking?   Not allowed. Nope. Shut that shit down.   ....   ...why, again?   “So, am I allowed to ask what sorts of things you're reading about in this library of yours?"   “Wild Amirs and How to Liquefy Them,” he stated, selecting one of the more fit-for-public-mention options he had in mind for her abductor. Sub-optimal one, though, as it wouldn’t leave much mass for her to have the pleasure of crushing beneath her heel.   "Ooo liquefy, love that. Feels right, given what a douche he is."   He snorted. Her foul mouth, fit to cuss with Midnight’s rowdiest, might never cease to crack his poker face. Or his resolve.   ‘You’re cute when you’re mad’ is such a lame line anyway. It sounded like something some star-struck villager would drawl at her instead of taking a fucking hint. He could do better.   He was too distracted to snark back. She didn’t seem to mind. They walked in companionable silence. His mind drifted back to that spring evening*, tugging at the strings of her composure until her indigo cheeks were flushed violet and mirth colored every giggled syllable.   Coulda kept going. There was so much more to say. Still is.   Jesus, get a hold of yourself. Nothing’s changed.   He frowned.   Hasn’t it, though?   His secrets count was at an all-time low, and much of what remained felt like it was a question’s breath from flying off. And yet here he walked, in pleasant company. Among people whose chief frustration with him seemed to be their limited ability to help.   He would not explain the crawling, insidious chaos barricaded behind an ever widening doorway in his mind, but everything else? It felt like it mattered less every day. Not compared to the risk of losing everyone again.   Arms’ length, it turned out, were the worst place to keep your friends. He’d been so sure the more they knew, the less anyone would want him around. That’s how it had happened before. His powers were useful until their cost became apparent. Then he was a liability. He had to be watched. Get him before he gets us.   But somehow they’d gotten the opposite read.   “I protect my team,” Ta’lok had said, somehow a warning that doubled as a reassurance. He guessed after what happened in that tower, Ta’lok was probably the person who most understood his fear of losing control. Whether the danger came from him or for him, no one was running.   There was still so much they didn’t know. But at this point, was it likely to make any difference? And what had keeping everything buttoned up gotten him? A gag and a knife and a long fall to rock bottom that only breathtaking mercy had pulled him back up from.   ‘I want you to know that I do. Trust you, I mean.’   The words were a chord, a gentle thrill running through his chest to his shoulders, straightening his back. He played it again and again, creating a harmony, feeling each syllable. She told him she knew there were things he’d never explain. She let him go, back there in the woods. She didn’t even ask, though she’d plainly wanted to. He told her flat-out that he would never tell her everything, and she accepted it.   He was still fighting the feeling there had to be a catch.   "Did Ta'lok say whether or not we're heading out to the Fort tonight and making camp, or first thing in the morning?"   The question brought him back into the present. It was directed at himself and Cri both, but Cri only tilted her head, looking at him.   Cypher skimmed through the morning’s strategy meeting in his mind, just in case. No, no mention of staying here overnight. It didn’t even come up – it felt assumed they wouldn’t be going back there. They’d both paced enough holes in those floorboards.   "I don't think he did. But I know I've had enough of the inn here."   "Ah, of course.”   Shit, no, I didn’t mean-   He reached for the words to cram them back down his throat. Choked on them while looking for some way to explain the rough scramble of fears and defensiveness and dark certainty born of old resentments that didn’t even have anything to do with her that he’d saturated that place with. Too late.   Mirage continued without breaking stride, but her smile had dimmed. “And Cri, I assume you'd prefer to sleep under the stars. They were beautiful from your tower, by the way. You must miss it."   He wasn’t sure whether the topic change was a dodge or a mercy, but he took the worth of the latter and gladly let the soft-spoken Aaracokra take the reins of conversation, slowing his step to trail a pace behind them.   Real smooth, genius. Real nice of you, bringing that up. Still feel like you want to tell her she’s cute?   He scowled at his shoes, willing the shamed flush from his cheeks.   Fortunately, she didn’t seem to want to dwell on the topic of those weeks any more than he did. Her redirection was smooth, effortless, and cleared the air within moments as Cri told her about the meteor shower she’d seen last time she was home.   This kindness makes me dizzy.   He was coming up with fewer and fewer reasons to have shifted gears before. Other than phrasing.   I shouldn’t have told her she’s cute. I should have told her she’s paralyzingly, painfully, heartbreakingly gorgeous.   As if she needed anyone to tell her that. Perhaps he should inform her water was somewhat damp at the same time. He’d occupied an adjacent stool at enough pubs after enough fights and listened to enough lame come-on lines to know he wasn’t the only one aware that she could cause cardiac arrest with a wink if she wanted to.   A sound like windchimes brought him out of his thoughts. He glanced up. She was laughing over something Cri’d said. He’d missed it.   No, he thought, catching a contagious smile as she watched her listen, focused, kind, effortlessly restoring ease in the wake of his blunder while he could only look on in awe.   Maybe I want to tell her if offering to cover her postage was all it took to get her to dance with me, I’d have done it ages ago.   “Cypher?”   She was walking backwards, not losing a single step.   “Yeah?”   “I said, you hungry?”   “Starving.”   “Good, then let’s hit the market square. I need to replace some gear, anyway.” She twirled a turn and led them toward an open space crowded with carters and storefronts.   She probably actually knows how to dance, he realized, startled. Steps and everything.   Her aristocracy was not something he found easy to remember. She never acted like she came of anything better than anyone else. But still, money was never a problem for her. Her idea of a party probably involved ballrooms.   The comparison brought him no shame. Even if some power were to give him a choice over his origins, he figured he’d still pick being a half-Chult runt from Flint street every single time. No one he cared to associate with had ever judged him harshly for it. But all the same it came over him like a cold wave that his idea of a nice time and hers were probably very different.   He guessed there was a lot he didn’t know about her.   He guessed it cut both ways.   Don’t suppose I could interest you in a bit of late-night kitchen swing anyway?   Conjuring an image of Mirage whirling on light feet like a vision of sunset was trivial. The idea of her clasped hand in his, a breathless smile across extended arms, drawing her twirl back to catch her backward into his arms should have felt ludicrous. Instead, it was disturbingly easy. Kind of hard to dismiss, actually.   He shook his head to dislodge it. No love without trust. No trust with secrets. That was still true.   But she trusts me. She let me cast on her.   Yes. Because you’re Friends. Quit while you’re ahead, for gods sake.   The thought sobered him. Her friendship was one of the most valuable things he could currently lay claim to. Was he seriously toying with the idea of jeopardizing it?   If she’d even be interested. ‘Oh no, you’ve found my weakness; scrawny book nerds who aren’t even playing with a full deck.’   Gods, he could see it already, the way her eyes would slide away, avoiding his face. The tension of a cringe in her cheek, the stilted edge of forced chuckles replacing her easy, rambunctious, wild, laughter. The fucking pity.   Arm’s length suddenly didn’t sound so bad.   On the other hand. If hope was no longer a four-letter word, maybe the other option was worth entertaining.   That if he reached for her hand, she might let him have it. That if he quit joking and told her for real, how she left him awestruck every single day, that her laughter was the only music he needed to meet eternity dancing, that he was starting to collapse under the weight of all the moments he’d wasted. That it was a crime he’d spent even a single second of his time on anything other than explaining that she was the only star in the entire sky worth looking at, that he was the luckiest man in the world to be allowed to stand by her side, and also the world’s biggest fool for not realizing sooner that she was the reason his world still had any colour in it, for finding folly in a single truth.   What better thing in the world, than to be in love with your best friend?