The Law of Polarity

16. It Takes Courage

Trigger Warning:
Themes involving familial death and grieving

Feel free to completely skip this chapter, or if you'd like a brief summary I'll include one at the very end of this chapter—only what's necessary for character background/motivation but without the details. 💚

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The air returns to an easy quiet as we watch tv, but I keep my attention split between it and my current task. I send more heat into his footbed under my fingers, putting some heavier pressure on his heel and defrosting his toes one by one. When they don't feel frozen anymore I fish the sock back from the ground and slide it on before taking the other one off to start on his next foot.

As I glance down to check my work, I notice a small dark mark near his inner ankle, so I examine a little closer and sure enough, there's a small tattoo there.

"A butterfly? That's cute."

He flinches at my voice, but he recovers quickly with a soft smile. "It's a moth actually, but thanks."

"Is that the one tattoo you were talking about? You made it sound so secretive, I thought maybe it was in a weird place."

"Oh, yeah... Nah, it's just that nobody ever sees it since it's usually covered by my socks and I don't talk about it much. If someone does happen to see it I just say it was a drunk dare."

I tilt my head at him while trying to understand the subtle shift in his demeanor. His tones changed and while he's not exactly watching the background television, he's also looking everywhere except at me. Why did he shift so suddenly after I mentioned the tattoo?

"...And was it? A dare, I mean." I try to match his forced humor but fail. I'm pretty sure he noticed, too, his small smile now completely gone from his face. He opens and closes his mouth like he can't decide what to say.

"Um, no. It was for my sister."

He goes still and quiet. He's obviously uncomfortable talking about it and it makes me curious, of course, but if he goes out of his way to hide and avoid it, then it's definitely something personal and probably not my business. So instead of prying, I go back to massaging.

A few moments later he speaks up. "You're not gonna ask?"

He's still looking to the side of me, picking at the corner of the pillow.

Did he purposefully give me a vague answer so that I would ask? "No. I'm definitely interested, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

His eyes finally meet mine then— and the fierce vulnerability shining there stabs me right in the center of my chest.

"I-I do... want to tell you. It's just hard to talk about. I don't really talk about her much. To anyone actually, besides my therapist, but... I do want to. If that's ok with you, of course, it can wait." He's gone ice still, only his eyes continue to survey me.

"Kal, I would love to hear about your sister. If you want to talk, I'm here. About anything."

A tentative, soft smile graces his face as that quiet anxiousness melts away. "Thanks."

He looks shyly downward again and I can just barely make out his cheeks lightly flaming in the low light. I follow his line of vision to his feet, where I realize my hands had paused their movement. I pick back up where I left off, pressing my thumb into the pad under his toes.