Taking Oliver’s hands in his, Felipe tried to hold his clouding gaze. “Oliver?”
Oliver opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a hiccupped cry. Felipe pulled him close and wrapped his arms tightly around him as Oliver finally shattered. Burying his head in Felipe’s shoulder, Oliver let his feelings pour out in a torrent of sobs and snot. Everything hurt and nothing made sense but the protective warmth of Felipe’s arms and the steady beat of his heart beneath his ear. He didn’t know how long he had been crying when his brain finally spat out what he had been feeling: overwhelmed. Learning that Mr. Turpin wasn’t just a curmudgeonly old man but something a quasi-immortal had been bad enough. He could have coped with that if Turpin hadn’t shown how little he truly knew him despite how close Oliver thought they had been or how little he truly cared for Felipe. Anger and hurt flared anew in his breast as Felipe whispered soothing nothings into his hair and hugged him close.
The feelings burned hot and fast until they finally guttered and snuffed out. As Oliver quieted, he sniffed and winced at the aching pains in his ribs. His head felt as if it had been squeezed in a vice and scraped hollow after crying for so long, yet he felt better. Peeling his face off Felipe’s jacket collar, Oliver grimaced at the wet splotch he left behind. There had to be a better way to vent his feelings than crying, but he conceded it was better than screaming or the perpetual numbness that sometimes stole over him for days. No, he would take an hour of tears over apathy any day.
As Oliver wiped at his eyes and finally evened out his breathing, Felipe merely watched him with his arms still wrapped loosely around him. The tether tightened beneathOliver’s heart as he gave Felipe a watery smile. Felipe pressed his handkerchief into his hand and swept away the sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead. His hand lingered on Oliver’s tear-hot cheek as he felt along the tether, and Oliver hoped Felipe could feel how much he appreciated him.
“You all right?”
“Ugh, yeah.”
A small smile crossed Felipe’s lips as he hugged Oliver before he carefully untangled his legs from his. “Stay put. I’ll get you some water and a cool cloth.”
Oliver wiped at his eyes and blew his nose, already missing the solid warmth of Felipe’s body against his. Words and thoughts still came slowly, but at least the fog seemed to be lifting. When Felipe returned with a glass of soda water, Oliver took it gratefully with a shaking hand. Each sip of the fizzy liquid made him burp, but at least it cooled his nerves and throat as he watched Felipe step into the hall. He had barely finished his drink when Felipe slipped back inside with a damp washcloth.
When Oliver croaked his thanks and reached for the cloth, Felipe said, “Here, let me.”
Oliver sat very still as Felipe wiped the dried tears from his cheeks with a shaking hand. Felipe was good at being gentle and comforting in a way that Oliver could never quite manage. He was a good listener, but he often leapt to problem-solving when others wanted comfort; somehow, Felipe always knew how to keep him calm and make him feel safe. He loosened Oliver’s tie and collar and ran the wet cloth down the length of his neck before swiping it over his forehead. With every swipe against his hot skin, the knot in Oliver’s chest loosened.I love you. I love you. I love you,Oliver thought a second before Felipe’s warm brown eyes flicked up to meet his in time with a wave of concern. Felipe took such good care of him. He just hoped he knew Oliver didn’t take it for granted.
“I’m sorry for worrying you, Felipe,” Oliver said hoarsely, forcing the words from his throat. “I’m sure all of that didn’t help.”
“It was a little worrying seeing you like that; I’m not going to lie. You’re sure you aren’t hurt?”
Oliver nodded. “I would have pulled the tether three times if I was. This is,” Oliver tried to think of how to put it, “an emotional hurt. But not by you, to be clear. Mr. Turpin, he—”
Oliver hesitated. It sounded outlandish in his own head, but Felipe had been at his side to see things that others wouldn’t believe existed. After all they had watched his mother become the Lady of the Dysterwood, braved the horrors of the desecrated cathedral together, and their souls and bodies had been tethered together until death did they part. Felipe would believe him even if no one else did. When Felipe laid his hand on Oliver’s thigh, Oliver threaded his fingers with his and let out a long breath.
“Mr. Turpin isn’t what he seems,” Oliver began. The story poured out of him as smoothly as the tears had. Oliver told Felipe every detail, reciting his conversation with Mr. Turpin as closely as he could. He explained how the story they had been told about the founding of the Paranormal Society had left out one important detail: the need for an anchorite. Even as he spoke, Oliver still wasn’t certain he fully understood what an anchorite did, apart from stabilizing the magic, but Felipe didn’t press him. When he told him about how Mr. Turpin and Mrs. Van Husen had become the successors to the original anchorite over a century ago, Oliver thought he felt a twinge of something from Felipe’s end of the tether, but it washed away before he could catch it. Oliver debated stopping there, but he had to tell him that Mr. Turpin wanted him and Gwen to become the new anchorites. He recounted exactly what Turpin had said, even about what might happen to Felipe if Oliver took on the magicpowering the society. He had expected—no,hoped—that Felipe would react, that he would be as angry at Mr. Turpin as he was, but Felipe’s expression and his side of the tether never wavered in their neutrality.
“And what did you say to him?” Felipe asked when Oliver fell silent.
“I told him no,” Oliver said, wiping away a crust of dried tears from the corner of his eye. While he had expected Felipe to have a bigger reaction, he was relieved that the story was out of him. He had feared he might start crying again, but with every back and forth of the conversation he relayed to Felipe, the more certain he was that he had done the right thing. When Oliver looked up from his lap, he found Felipe watching his expression closely with his brows furrowed. He quickly checked the tether, yet Felipe’s side was as impassive as air.
Oliver swallowed hard. “Do… do you believe me?”
“Of course, I do. You know I’ve often said that I think Turpin isn’t what he seems. Him being near immortal is actually less weird than what I had suspected. I’m just surprised you told him no.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Felipe blinked at him. “I can think of many reasons, but for one, it seems to have upset you greatly.”
“I’m not upset because I feel I can’t accept. I’m upset because I thought Turpin knew me better than that. That he would dare ask such a thing of me when the cost is so great is— is insulting. He acted like it would cost me nothing to agree. Do you not see how horrid that is?” Oliver snapped but caught himself. He needed to calm down. Felipe hadn’t started all this; Turpin had. “On top of everything, I didn’t like how he spoke about you. I made a vow with you that I wouldn’t go where you couldn’t follow, and I intend to keep it.”
A sluice of something bleak and cold slipped across the tether, drawing a shudder from Oliver, but Felipe still only looked thoughtful. Sitting back on the rug, Felipe gave Oliver’s hand a squeeze.
“I just don’t want you to miss out on something you might want because of me.”
“I’m not,” Oliver said, holding Felipe’s gaze. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that doesn’t involve you. Besides, while I understand why the society needs anchorites to channel the magic, I have ethical concerns about anyone having an extended lifespan like that. There’s always the risk of abuse or someone becoming one for their own gain.”
Felipe looked like he didn’t buy his explanation, but when he opened his mouth to say something, he stopped himself. Instead, he asked, “How did Turpin react when you told him no?”
“He told me to think about it, that important decisions shouldn’t be made in anger or haste.” Oliver released a bitter laugh. “I don’t know why he doesn’t understand that the answer will still be no, no matter when he asks. I figured I would wait until Monday evening, and then, send him a note confirming that my feelings haven’t changed. Do you think that’s enough time?”
Felipe’s fingers tightened around Oliver’s as he said quietly, “I think you should talk to Gwen about this.”
No. The word sat poised on the tip of Oliver’s tongue, and it made him sick. For the first time in ten years of friendship, Oliver dreaded speaking to Gwen. He couldn’t bear for her to tell him that it would be good for him or that, statistically, he was unlikely to lose Felipe when he became an anchorite. More than anything, he feared that she would somehow talk him into it as she had so many times when he had gotten in his own way. The worst part was that he trusted Gwen. He trusted her more thanhe trusted himself, and a small part of him wanted to be the one to shape the Paranormal Society to make it better for the people the world rarely thought about.
Gwen had asked him if he ever thought about the future. He had, many times, with hope and with the fear that everything he loved would go wrong, but no vision of the future looked like losing Felipe or having his relationship with Gwen forever altered. A little voice in the back of Oliver’s mind whispered that maybe she had thought about saying no to Turpin too, but Oliver didn’t want her to. Gwen was smart, thoughtful, and kind while not being a doormat. She would be able to tell what people needed and do right by them. If she asked him if she should be the anchorite, he hoped he could keep his feelings from showing on his face because he wanted her to have that sort of influence, even if it came at the expense of their closeness. No, Oliver would do the best he could to support her and not make her feel guilty if that’s what she chose. Still, he dreaded telling her how he felt.
