I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and ducked my head to catch her eye. Alex had cycled throughout the week—hour to hour, minute to minute. She had moments where she seemed relieved, almost hopeful. Times where she got excited, like when they tested her ability usage, and she came out at fifty-six percent. It was her all-time high, apparently. The new implants were a game changer.
But then she would dip. At first, she wouldn’t talk to me, but day by day she opened up more, and I drank up whatever she had to say. Sometimes, it was about Joon. How pumped he would have been to see her new scores, or how being in a hospital bed brought back memories of him. I still wasn’t good at talking, but Alex only needed someone to listen.
I could do that, at least.
This energy, though, meant that she was fixated on her damn horns. When she kept her head low so that her hair hung in her face, or when she turned away from me, as if that would hide them. I had no idea how to navigate it. They weren’t bad at all. Sure, they were a bit bigger.
Okay, alotbigger. The ones she had before only poked out of her head by a couple of inches; in passing, they could have passed as a headband. These stuck out about five inches from her head, and were a little thicker in width. They were still that shining blue, with small rings wrapping around them that would glow when she used her ability, rather than sparking up.
“They look fine, Alex,” I said.
She sighed. “I know.”
What would Joon say?
He always had a way of cheering her up or making her see the bright side. I didn’t know how to channel that, when I’d never been able to do it myself. Bright sides and optimism weren’t my expertise; I was the ‘burn-it-all-down’ type. Navigating Alex was my hardest mission yet.
“Hey, look at me.” I reached out and tapped beneath her chin. “Let’s talk it out.”
You talk, and I’ll listen, I mean.
She let out a groan as she threw her head back, and the tips of her new horns hit the back of her hospital bed. A small yelp made me jump, and Alex clutched at her head as I held my hands in the air around her, like an idiot. What was I gonna do, some energy healing?
Dumbass.
“They’re freakin obnoxious!” she growled, and I froze. “Yeah, I look like a fucking dragon, or whatever. I can’t blend in anymore, fine. Kids are gonna wanna touch them more, fine. People are going to stare more, fine. It’s the Variant condition, fine. But this? It’s driving menuts. Do you know how many times I snag these things on the pillowcase at night?! A stupid amount! Anunreasonableamount of times! And it hurts!”
After a moment of shock from her outburst, I nodded along. “I can see how that can be frustrating.”
Thank you, Minnie.
She’d given me the best advice—listen, and confirm. Unless Alex was completely going off the deep end. Minnie put her number on my phone on speed dial, just in case. The phone that I had just burned and tossed, unfortunately.
Do hospitals have therapists on hand?
“I just…” She turned to me with those big blue eyes, as if she was pleading for me to help. “I was finally finding myself again, things wereactuallygetting better, instead of sitting just above crisis mode, you know?”
No, I abandoned crisis mode a while ago. Give-up mode is similar though, right?
“Yeah,” I swallowed. “I think.”
“How am I supposed to feel like myself again if I don’tlooklikemyself?”
I wasn’t sure if she was actually expecting an answer or not. Sometimes, she’d throw out a question, and when I replied, her face would go blank. Other times, I’d avoid the inquiry, and she’d follow up with another one. It didn’t feel like she hated me anymore, and I thought that’s all I needed. But she gave me an inch, and now I wanted a mile.
Alex was someone I wanted to understand. I wanted to talk to her, or hear her talk. Instead of being rivals or past-acquaintances, we were growing into something more. Friends, maybe? Was this classified as friends, even though she was still under VIA orders to work with me?
Probably not.
Being agreeable wasn’t working anymore. I let the words fly, and hoped that they would stick.
“Your eyes are still blue. Not sky blue, or ocean blue—they’re kind of… you know those butterflies? The blue ones, I think they live in the rainforests or something.” I was babbling; a big babbling idiot.
The corners of her mouth turned up. “Morphos.”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sure, those. Your eyes remind me of the color of their wings, so that hasn’t changed. And your tattoos — those are still there. They’re permanent.”
This is NOT channeling Joon. This is channeling my inner demons; the dumb ones that talk too much.
