Choir of Moths

Chapter 3

As his fingers wrapped around the doorknob of his aunt's apartment, a storm raged in Malik's head. He viciously scraped for the best story to explain the scratches and pavement burns that dotted parts of his body. There were a dozen that would probably work, at least on paper. The issue came from his aunt's flawless ability to decipher his lies from the truth. She didn't even have to look at him, it was like whatever he said came out as subtitles with the lies being colored red. For those proficient with magic, aether circulated through their bodies faster causing them to heal at an accelerated rate. Almost all of the scratches on his face had completely healed during his carriage ride home, but his ribs and the large patch of pavement burn on his arm were a different story. Any deep breath caused a sharp pain to shoot from his side and across his chest. He wasn't a teenager sneaking into his house past curfew to avoid being grounded, but he hated causing his aunt to worry.

He took a deep breath and settled on the plan of making a quick dash to the bathroom. One quick 'Hi.' and he'd keep moving. He unlocked the door with his key and opened it.

"Hey, aunt.." As he stepped inside he stopped and realized the apartment was silent. He called out for his aunt only for the quiet to answer back. A piece of paper stuck on the fridge flapped in the air as he closed the door. He ripped off the tape holding the paper and gazed over the letters on it. It was written in his aunt's unmistakable cursive. Handwriting he struggled to read as a kid and still struggled with all these years later.

" Over at Dhana's for tea and TV." While he was happy he didn't have to confront his aunt it was admittedly annoying having all that planning and back and forth go to waste.

He threw his cat piss-soaked robe on the washing machine, making a mental note to wash it later, and trudged into the bathroom. With a quick turn of the shower handle, water began to spray from its head. He was sure to turn the shower handle all the way to the left, cranking the water's temperature as high as it would go. As steam slowly filled the space he leaned over the sink breathing it in. Malik looked into the fogging mirror at himself and grimaced.

"Boring." He said quietly as he wiped the steadily gathering fog from the mirror. He'd never loved the sight of himself and honestly thought he was below average in the looks department. He drug a hand over the deep mahogany skin that covered his face, using his other hand to push some of the wild curls that dangled in front of his eyes out of his vision. He picked and pulled at the dark brown mass of tight curls and coils that sat on his head. Weeks ago he'd lied to himself that he was growing his hair out but he admittedly could use a haircut. His way of coping with the fact he needed a haircut but was too lazy to get one. His hair had gotten to the point that he'd lost sight of his ears and had to resort to using a hair band to keep the wild growth out of his eyes. He stared down at his reflection, brown eyes locked on each other before his eyes drifted down to his body. He gripped his stomach before giving it a few shakes. While he wouldn't fully describe himself as fat, he had always been a bigger guy, far from his dream body of a six-pack. Anytime his aunt had seen him moping about his stature, she'd always bring up his father, who she swore he was a clone of.

"He was as wide as a bear and your grandmother use to have to sow two pairs of pants together just so he could cover his ass." She used to tell him. Still, he wouldn't mind getting something remotely close to a beach body, for the next time he went on vacation in Oleander. He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts, moving his gaze back up to his face and stopping on the scar beneath his eye. A mark that looked halfway between a brand and a bizarre wound. He felt a small knot form somewhere in his stomach as he rubbed his fingers over it.

He felt a heat rising in his chest, but unlike before, this time he let it grow. He jumped slightly as a sudden loud zap, rang out in the bathroom. The initial zap was followed by several others as arcs of scarlet electricity jumped between his fingertips. The steam around him stopped its free floating and begin to spin around him just fast enough for him to notice. He'd grown so used to ignoring the magic within him, even still, when he was able to cut loose, no matter how slight, it felt like he had found a way to swim to the surface of the ocean for air. Lately, he'd found the time or place to be able to cut loose at all. His aunt was always home and she'd have launched into a panic attack at the slightest sign of red lightning or the black winds it brought with it. Malik cupped his hands in front of him, closed his eyes, and imagined himself rolling some dough into a ball.He took a deep breath and spoke.