It was her not-so-subtle way of sayingYou look like shit.
And I did.
I showered, but it wasn’t for me. Or him. I did it for her.
This was a big step for Kacey, I could feel it. Every emotion bouncing around her mind was so bright and vibrant that they kept chipping at my shield until, eventually, I gave up trying to block them.
Kacey always feels so much, so loudly, that I have to let them in.
When I came to her room, sopping-wet hair dripping down to my ribs, she beamed. When I asked to borrow some clothes, because I refused to wear anything they might’ve sent, she lit up. Then she launched into a flurry of motion, muttering while searching through her disorganised wardrobe, rummaging through drawers, reopening the same ones, pausing over something pink before catching my expression and dropping it.
We settled on overalls.
I’ve never worn them before. They’re a dark, worn denim, legs a little long so I rolled them up at the ankles. They’re comfortable but completely unlike me. The black long-sleeve underneath was more my style, even if a little too loose.
I hadn’t looked in a mirror before we left, avoided it honestly. But now, in the reflection of the atrium’s glass walls, I can’t stop staring.
It isn’t a true mirror; the glass is slightly warped, the light doesn’t hit quite right, but it’s enough.
I’ve lost weight. Muscle. My skin is pale, colourless. My face is too thin. My half-dried hair sits in a loose, uneven bun, with fallen pieces clinging to my cheeks like maroon shadows.
I’ve never looked like this before.
We flitted here using Kacey’s magic rock, landing straight in Ezekial’s office. I tensed at first, maybe in remembrance of the last time I was there, but it was empty.
Then we flitted again to the atrium, and the second we stepped inside, something changed in Kacey. Because here, Kacey has agency, control. This is her space, her domain.
I’m simply a guest in her world.
I’m perched on one of the planting tables now, and when I’m not studying the stranger in the glass, I’m watching Kacey bounce joyfully around, re-organising plants, muttering softly, scribbling notes, tugging on her gloves.
We didn’t set a time for her meeting; we just knew it was today. And since it was arranged yesterday, Kacey hasn’t said a word to me about the dragon, so I haven’t said a word to her.
And now, I know should be helping, doing something other than sitting here, watching, staring, but I’m just so… tired.
I glance at my hands resting in my lap, staring at how translucent my skin has become, how prominent my veins are now, how blue... I wince.
Blue.
Piercing eyes, intricate markings, that smirk—
I clutch my chest through the denim, but it doesn’t stop the ache. The pain spikes, dragging like a knife through bark, slashing and carving over and over—
Kacey’s scuffed boots appear before me.
“You need some of the mixture? I—” She pats her pockets. “Oh, you stupid idiot, Kacey! Er… I… I can make it! Just give me two seconds, well, I’ll need more than two, because I need to grind it and then—”
“K—” I croak, rubbing the bruised spot on my chest, pressing hard against the raw ache that begins to thaw. “It’s going.” I inhale shakily. “It’s fine, it’s—”
“It’snotfine, I should’ve brought it! But I’ve been so busy thinking about myself I—”
I raise my other hand to stop her. “If I took any more, it’d knock me out.”
Her face drains of colour. “I thought… but it’s in my room—how did you… You’ve had to take it that much?” Her soft question is filled with guilt, it’s a thick, clogging emotion that oozes into me.
“You’re not ready for this.” She shakes her head, eyes wide. “You’re not ready.” She turns away, pacing. “I’m so selfish. I’m such a bad friend. How could I not know that you’d been taking it?”
Then she spins back to me, eyes now glassy. “We need to leave, right now. We’re not doing this. I’m not letting you—I can’t—I—” She chokes on the words, a soft sob cutting them.
