Bubble-berry.
Gross.
He pushed it away and cocked his head at Aneski, who had yet to greet him or say anything at all. “Pretty sure I asked what was up.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “You asleep or something? Sleepwalking?”
Aneski sighed and slumped back against the booth. “Why did you follow me?”
Flix frowned. “I didn’t. I get breakfast here with the guys every Sunday. If anything, I should be the one accusing you.What do you say? Want to be my stalker? The position is open.” He was joking—mostly.
In the time since he’d first met Aneski, Flix had carefully kept his distance as best he could, only allowing himself to dip his toes into the older brother role. Russ was always at school studying, partying, or working on building the Shepards, so he wasn’t home as often as he used to be. As an only child himself, Flix didn’t really understand the concept of being lonely on his own, but Berga had explained it to him once when he’d spotted Aneski alone at the library, looking forlorn and like he’d been crying.
It’d been a textbook explanation, considering Berga felt less range of emotion than Flix did, but still. It’d done the trick.
There was no real reason for it, but Flix didn’t like the idea of Aneski being sad.
“Actually, it’s good you’re here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny box, tossing it across the table so it landed with a light thump in front of Ani.
“What’s this?” His brow furrowed down at the small cream-colored box with the jade ribbon but he didn’t make any motion to touch it.
Flix tried to ignore the sharp stab of insult he felt at that. “It’s not poison, Good Light. Just open it and see for yourself.”
He hesitated but eventually did as he was told, reaching out with deft fingers to pick up the box. Aneski tilted it this way and that first, listening to the slight rattle within before curiosity finally got the best of him and he popped off the top.
“Heard you were afraid of the dark,” Flix explained as Aneski pulled out the tiny glass bottle, no bigger than his thumb. A miniature lightning bolt dangled from the bottom of the cork top, clinking lightly against the glass as he held it up. “It glows in the dark.”
“Why…Why are you giving this to me?” Ani didn’t sound upset or disappointed. The exact opposite. He sounded pleased.
Or, was Flix reading too far into things? Hearing what he wanted to hear?
“It’s your birthday,” Flix said, quirking a brow when Aneski gave him a surprised look. “What? I’ve known you for almost two years, Ani. Of course I know your birthday. I was invited to your seventeenth birthday last year, remember?”
Some of the happiness leached out of him all at once, and Flix frowned, not understanding what he’d said to cause that reaction.
“Right,” Aneski repeated, replacing the bottle in the box and closing the lid. “Thanks.” He shoved it into his jacket pocket and didn’t say anything else.
“Are you not having a party this year?” Was that it? Flix hadn’t heard anything about one. Perhaps he was upset because of that? “Russ has been pretty busy lately, but I’m sure—”
“You would know,” Aneski cut him off. “You see him more than I do.”
Flix frowned again. He didn’t think that was true since he only really spoke to Russ once or twice a week at best while Ani and his brother lived together, but he wasn’t about to argue over that. Clearly Aneski was feeling neglected, correcting him wouldn’t do any good or make him feel any better.
Flagging down the waitress to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts, Flix let the younger guy stew for a bit. When the woman came over to take their order, he ordered enough food to fill the table, as well as another one of those awful bubble-berry milkshakes.
Aneski was staring at him suspiciously afterward.
“What?” Flix asked.
“Aren’t you going back to your friends?”
“We’re not friends?”
Aneski’s brow furrowed.
“Why? Do you want me to invite them over? They can join and we can act like this is a birthday—”
“No,” he stopped him. “No, let’s…” Aneski dropped his gaze. “Just the two of us is fine.”
Flix found himself wishing that was true.
