Coniferous | dreamnotnap

10. Simple Sorrow

Sapnap jumped to attention when he heard laughter. He'd been dozing on the couch, having to wait longer than expected for his hosts to show up.

They didn't immediately notice him when they walked in.

"Love, we can have sandwiches for lunch tomorrow, okay? I already have a dinner planned."

"I still want one now, though."

George sighed.

"You are so stubborn." He laughed, tipping his head back as he did so. He met gazes with Clay and they shared a little kiss before George seemed to have noticed Sapnap out of his peripheral vision. He jumped a little, turning his head when Clay tried to kiss him again.

"Sapnap! I forgot you were here."

Sapnap let his face show how unimpressed he was, both at them being gone for at least an hour and a half and the fact that they kissed in front of him. Okay, well, he didn't mind it that much, he just wanted to be mad for the sake of being mad.

He didn't notice the flowers at first either, just as they hadn't noticed him, too wrapped up in making his face look mean. Not until Clay gently pried the ones George held out of his hands. Clay held a large bundle then, only taking quick little glances between the man on the couch and the floor. He seemed timid.

"You were gone for a long time." Sapnap said. His hair had dried. It fluffed up and made small brown waves atop his head.

George nodded, pointing at the flowers. "We went to the meadow."

"I thought you guys were mad at each other?"

"It's been resolved."

Clay just barely narrowed his eyes in George's direction. He said nothing. George met eyes with him, then made a small gesture with his hand.

Clay glanced at Sapnap and cleared his throat, "um, thEse," he paused as his voice cracked, "these are for you."

Sapnap furrowed his brows. "What are?"

"The- the flowers." Clay looked down at the plants tucked into his chest and back to Sapnap. George nodded in confirmation.

"For me? Why?"

"Take it as an apology." George said, taking a purple, lilac-like flower from Clays bundle and extending it toward Sapnap. "And an asking for forgiveness."

Sapnap recognized the flower instantly. Hyacinth. Inedible. He didn't reach for it.

In the stillness, as neither George nor Sapnap made a move, Clay cleared his throat and stepped foreword. With his eyes glued to the bouquet, he let them all fall to the couch beside Sapnap. Then he took the purple hyacinth from George's outstretched hand, and cautiously held it out to Sapnap. His shoulders were nearly to his ears.

"Purple hyacinths mean sorrow... asking for forgiveness." Clay muttered. He shuffled his feet. "Do... do you accept it?"

Sapnap gazed at the vibrant violet petals, reminiscent of George's famed cloak. He felt a twitch of his finger, aching to grab the flowers' stem, to bring it to his nose and see what scent it carried. Would it smell like sorrow?

He reached out.

He held the green stem just above Clays hand, grazing his skin with his little finger. Clay let go like it burned him; Sapnap drew the flower in close. Just below his chin, an overwhelmingly sweet scent snuck into his nose.

"I'll try my best..." he said.

———

Sapnap had completely forgotten about wanting to leave, until hours later, around 5 PM, when George asked why his backpack was by the front door. He wasn't sure how to respond. After the sweet gift of flowers, after he was no longer left alone to his own overanalyzed thoughts, he felt his welcome extended beyond one night. Although he was anxious for whatever the sleeping arrangements would be, knowing what happens at night, he still didn't feel like leaving just yet. He couldn't figure out why, exactly.

"I prefer having it out here." He lied.

When dinner time came, George made some sort of vegetable filled omelette. Sapnap learned that George was vegetarian; not because he didn't like eating meat, but because he liked the forest animals too much to even think of killing them. He said he'd made many rabbit friends, and was well acquainted with a deer family that roamed the area. Sapnap found it odd at first, but then remembered that George was a witch, and the witches he'd heard of in fairy tales were fond animals.

"Don't witches have, like, what's it called? A familiar? That animal companion thing?" Sapnap asked, continuing his thought process out loud. He was finished with his food, fork settled languidly in his hand. Clay sat crisscrossed on the kitchen counter quietly, with his plate in his lap, as no chairs were left available at the table.

"Some do. I don't," George laughed lightly as he glanced at his lover, "unless you count a half monster as a familiar."

Sapnap found himself smiling as well, after watching Clay throw a tiny bit of egg at George. It hit his cheek and fell onto the floor. George wiped his face in disgust.

Sapnap felt weird. He'd smiled. At the monster.

It was only that morning that he'd freaked out, absolutely terrified of him, not wanting to be anywhere near him. To be fair, apart from the phrase that brought him back to the dreadful nightmare, Clay wasn't that bad. His human qualities were easy to see, once the elephant of his being was forgotten.

Even so, his anxiety wouldn't be shaken so easily; the light from the windows dimmed.

George lit a candle.

The moods of the other two did not shift, even as the sky went from orange to purple to blue. Sapnap had never been more tense in his life, his shoulders locked, neck stiff. Not even that morning, beside Clay on the couch was he as rigid as he was in that dining chair. He took little glances at Clay every few seconds, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Clay and George just chatted quietly, until the aforementioned stared directly at Sapnap during one of his anxious looks.

"George..." Clay muttered, head falling.

George turned his head.

He seemed to understand the situation as soon as he set eyes on the paled man across from him. He sighed, using a low, comforting tone, "it's okay, Sapnap. There's still an hour left."

He visibly relaxed, but the pit in his stomach was not filled.

"What- how will it happen?" He asked slowly.

"He can feel when it's going to happen long before it does. He'll leave and shift after he's a ways away from the house. Just as he does every- well, almost every night."

"Almost?" Sapnap squeaked.

"Don't worry about it. He'll be gone tonight, for sure."

Sapnap felt like he was going to throw up. His stomach churned.