Rather than point that out, I say, “This is more your home than it is mine.”
“Let’s fix that.”
I want to say that I don’twantto fix that, that I want him to have a home, but he tugs me back toward the kitchen before releasing his hand.
“It may take me a long time to evolve emotionally, but I can wash a dish faster than you can imagine,” Zan tells me, then pauses. “...That will seem more impressive once you’ve ever washed a dish.”
“Will it?” I echo dryly.
He nods seriously. “There are many things you weren’t able to do before, but there were also many things that were done for you and you probably don’t really understand the labor that goes into them yet. Many people find the endless nature of it frustrating.”
An echo of my earlier thoughts. “Do you?” I ask.
“Some days. But I am always aware of what the alternative would look like for me. Dragon society has its own form of rules and limitations, and I would not be able to make the same kinds of choices if I returned to it. What shape do you want your home to be?”
He gestures around us at the living area.
Now that I’ve seen the inside of Nomi and Teren’s home, I can see that the cottage is very spare; functional but neutral, lacking the same imprint that feels like a specific person lives here.
How do you even begin with that?
“I don’t know,” I say softly.
Zan just nods. “And that’s fine. Butwhenyou want to choose, everything here can change. It’s your space.”
“Andyours,” I tell him forcefully. He is willfully missing the point on this. “It’s your house too, just as much as it is mine. More, even. I am absolutely not throwing you out, and if I want more space from you or a different space, the temple is right there—I can always stay there until I find one.”
“You arenotgoing back to your prison,” Zan bursts out.
I wave my hands. “I’m not trying to! I’m just saying you need to stop behaving like I have the right to evict you from this house. It is also yours. And I don’t have any idea how to decorateor keep furniture from getting sticky oranythingso ifyouwantyour houseto be different,youshould choose. Or just get used to the idea that I will either not make decisions about this forever or will just ask you what you’d be happy with anyway.”
He growls, “I’m trying not to trap you with me when you’ve barely gotten started—”
Aaand my eyes are glowing again. “You’re not atrap,Zan! Who was it that wanted me to trust my instincts and gut choices earlier today? Convenient if the only exception to that is where you’re concerned.”
Zan glares at me.
“And you may not be young anymore, but if you think I’m going to change my mind, you’re apparently still foolish,” I tell him coolly.
Zan snorts, and some of his tension dissipates. “We’ll see.”
“Yeah, we fuckingwill.”
“Do you have favorite colors?” His gaze is oddly intent.
I blink at the abrupt topic change. “No? But...” I glance around. “Maybe just—I like color, I think?”
Zan nods thoughtfully.
Yeah, that probably doesn’t take a genius to work out that I maybe don’t want to spend another lifetime in a stark gray box.
It also occurs to me that for all Zan appears to know about arranging a house, despite the existence of the Guardians, he’s never had one he considered his own before. For me, all the choices to make a home seems like an overwhelming chore, but for him...
I wonder if he’s secretly been preparing to make a home for hundreds of years and has never let himself actually do it.
“Fine.” His tone is trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite managing it, which compounds my theory—this matters to him more than he wants me, or possibly himself, to know. “I’ll picksome out the next time we go to Crystal Hollow, and you can approve or not.”
Oh.
