I finish getting dressed and glance at the time, only to groan in frustration. I’m still way too early. Great. Just great. I hate waiting like this. Something about knowing I have to be somewhere later completely derails my entire day. If I have plans at four in the afternoon, then my brain seems to think that means I’m unavailable from dawn until then. I know it’s ridiculous. Logically, I know I have hours of free time. I could do anything. I could read, watch TV, scroll through my phone, literally just relax, but no. My brain refuses to function like a normal person’s. Instead, I just end up in this weird, restless limbo, bouncing between getting ready way too early and hovering around waiting for time to pass. The only reason I even managed to do my hair today was because it technically counted as part of getting ready. My brain is a ridiculous place. I try to think of something else, something vaguely productive that still falls under the umbrella of ‘getting ready.’ Then it hits me. I can call Wren. That counts, right? It’s checking in, making sure he’s okay, definitely relevant to our overall plan. And, more importantly, it gives me something to do. Feeling slightly less useless, I grab my phone and dial his number. He picks up almost instantly.
“Hi, Clare!” Wren’s voice is bright, almost cheerful. I blink.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Wren?” I joke, genuinely caught off guard. I mean, I knew he’d been settling in, but this, this outgoing, casual, confident version of him? This is new. Usually, he’s hesitant, reserved, like he’s bracing for something terrible at all times. This almost feels like I called the wrong person. He’s only been there a day! Wren laughs, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes.
“I’m still me.” He assures me.
“It’s just… Nice having good people to talk to. Friends, you know? And it’s just… Really good to have people looking out for me. Adults, even. I always thought I was so mature and grown up, and I’ve recently decided that is completely overrated. I hate being responsible for myself.” he declares. That statement makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. It’s so… Painfully relatable. It’s good that he’s appreciating the support, that he’s finally feeling safe enough to relax. But it also hurts that he had to learn such a harsh lesson in the first place. He’s so young, he should be focused on stupid teenage things, sneaking out, arguing about curfews, complaining about homework. Instead, he’s been stuck in survival mode, making impossible choices that no kid should have to make. I push that thought aside and focus on the moment.
“So, you’re doing okay there then?” I ask.
“Lukas and I are going to start looking into more long term solutions tonight. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but we’re going to do our best.” I rush to reassure him.
“I’m fine… Well…” Wren hesitates.
“I tried to run away, like, three times. Basically, every time someone opened the back door of the bar. I didn’t really want to though. Did you know they have magic on it that literally stops anyone other than Rina and Torin from opening it? That’s so cool! Laura did the spell. I’m so jealous. Why do other people get awesome, useful magic and I’m stuck with this necromancy stuff?” He complains with an unhappy groan. I sigh. Yeah, I really get that feeling. Growing up, I was always the one whose magic wasn’t quite right, the one who couldn’t do things the way my family did. It took me years to figure out the strengths in what I could do, and even now, I still have moments where I feel like I don’t quite measure up. More than moments really. I still feel that way fairly often, but I’m working on it. I could try to give him the whole ‘your magic is special and valuable’ speech, but I know from personal experience that would just make him roll his eyes. Instead, I tell him the truth.
“You’re right. It does kind of suck being different sometimes.” I agree. There’s a pause. Wren wasn’t expecting that. He probably expected me to argue or give him a bunch of platitudes.
“There ARE people who have these incredible, powerful abilities, and it’s frustrating when you feel like yours isn’t as impressive. I totally understand that. But I can also think of plenty of reasons why I think your magic is amazing. I could tell you all about them, but it might be better for you to find your own reasons. It might take time, especially right now, when it’s causing you so much trouble, but just… Don’t give up on it entirely. Okay? Give it a bit of time.” I suggest gently. Wren is quiet for a long moment.
“Okay, I’ll try.” He says eventually.
“Or at least… I’ll work on getting to a point where I can try.” He exhales, and his voice softens.
“Um… Tthanks. For listening. For understanding.” He says awkwardly. I smile, even though he can’t see it.
“I’m always happy to listen.” I assure him. Someone calls Wren’s name in the background, saying that dinner is ready. He thanks me again, says goodbye, and hangs up. I think he was a little overwhelmed and was ready to be done with the conversation, but that’s fine because honestly, I had no idea what else to say anyway.
That was really nice of you… What you said to him.” Lukas’s voice comes from behind me, and I whirl around so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. My heart is racing. I didn’t even hear him come in. He’s standing in the doorway, a neatly folded pile of black clothing in his arms, presumably what he’s about to change into. His expression is unreadable, his gaze steady, like he’s been watching me for a while.
“You scared me!” I accuse, pressing a hand to my chest like that’ll help slow my pulse.
Lukas just shrugs, completely unbothered.
“You’re a beautiful person, you know.” He suddenly remarks. I freeze. Not because I don’t hear compliments, people say nice things all the time. But it’s the way he says it. The quiet certainty in his tone, like it’s not even up for debate. I swallow, suddenly hyper aware of my dress, of the way I’ve been fidgeting with the fabric. I tug at the hem, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle, just for something to do.
“What do you think of this dress?” I ask quickly, deflecting.
“You were right earlier. I did need an excuse to wear it.” I confess. He chuckles, the sound warm and amused.
“It’s lovely…” He starts. For a second, I think that’s it. But then he shakes his head.
“But I wasn’t talking about how you look.” He adds. Lukas steps closer, eyes locked onto mine. There’s no teasing smirk, no playful edge to his voice this time. Just honesty.
“Just… You. Who you are. You’re beautiful.” He repeats the compliment. I go bright red. My first instinct is to brush it off. Because that’s what people do, right? Say things that sound nice, things they think you want to hear, things that might be true but could just as easily be politeness, or obligation, or a passing observation they don’t actually mean.
How do you really know if someone is kind? If they’re genuinely good? Even I don’t always trust my own intentions—how many times have I done something ‘nice’ just because it was the right thing to do, or because it felt good to be helpful? But Lukas? Lukas knows. He’s been inside my head. He’s seen the worst of me, the real me, the thoughts I don’t even say out loud. And he still thinks this. That realization settles over me all at once, warm and terrifying. He tilts his head, watching me with that quiet, knowing expression.
“You’re overthinking things again.” He comments. And then, before I can spiral any further, he moves. One arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close. The warmth of him is immediate, overwhelming. And then he leans down, pressing the softest kiss to my forehead.
My thoughts short circuit. Mhy thoughts are gone. Just… Gone. For a second, he lingers there, his breath warm against my hair, his grip firm but not demanding. Like he’s giving me the choice to pull away, to step back if I want to. I don’t. But then, just as quickly, he lets go. Steps back like nothing happened. What the hell. I blink at him, dazed.
“Where are you going? Aren’t you getting dressed?” I ask. Lukas pauses in the doorway, nodding. “Yeah, I am. But I need to grab something.” He says firmly. frown, watching as he disappears into the living room. A few moments later, he returns, and this time, there’s a stripe of soft pink sitting neatly on top of his all black clothing