𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻

Maven

I've noticed that Reds and Silvers don't share that many spaces and it seems unfair. My eyes always search the crowd around me for a red slash, but there just doesn't seem to be enough of them. It's odd, really. They definitely outnumber us, but I can't get enough of them. Or more accurately, of him. Every once in a while, though, our paths cross.

"Hello, Thomas."

"Oh, hey, Maven!"

I keep looking for excuses to bump into him every day. It's nice to have him talk to me, even if just for a minute since we're both busy. Although he's always with his Red friends (and I don't think they like me very much), I crave those few words exchanged between us.

We've been spending some afternoons together by the ammo buildings, and some in the clearing. I could talk to him for hours, but I mostly prefer to just listen to him. His voice is a comfort and as familiar to me now as my own reflection. I also like it when he talks because then I am completely free to look at him. Just look at him. His face. His profile. His hair. I am careful to not look at his mouth, but sometimes I steal glances when he isn't looking.

Being close to him again has stirred something in me. It's a stronger feeling than before. Surer and true. I like him. I so like him. I want to be close to him all the time. I want him to smile at me, look at me. I want to touch his hair, his face. That mole that tempts me. I only get to see it on rare occasions when he turns his head away and it shows from under the neck of his uniform.

It's a terrible thing that chokes me. A deep desire that I can't begin to understand. I have never felt this for someone. Sure I've had crushes before, but not like this. He feels real. Just within my reach.

Sometimes, he leans in close to tell me a story. So close that our heads practically bump and I can smell the scent of wood and ash that comes off him. When he does, he never looks at me though. He keeps his eyes away, looking at something between our hands or in the sky or on the ground.

And I stare at him.

I'm usually very attentive to his words, but when he gets this close it's so easy to get lost on him. Part of me wants to get closer and part of me is terrified to. A smaller part is confused about what it all means. What does it mean to want someone? For someone in my position, with my title and blood on the line, what does it lead to? Could it ever happen?

"...my brothers used to hunt them and keep them in tiny jars in our room," he's saying now. We're resting against a tree by the clearing. The sun has just begun its descent and the sky has turned a light orange. "It used to drive my mum crazy whenever any of the bugs escaped, and she would chase us all around the house."

A small laugh leaves his mouth as he tells me this and I smile back at him, even though he can't see it. Then he grabs my hand and starts playing with my fingers. I try to act unbothered and let him, but the temperature around us rises anyway. I curse in my head for this ability and wish I did a better job at controlling it. He's kind enough to pretend he doesn't notice.

"What is this ring for?" he asks, turning the piece around.

"It's from my mother's House. House Merandus."

"It's pretty," he hums. "What about this one?"

"That's from House Calore."

"The Burners," he says.

"Yes."

I love that the colour of my blood doesn't deter him anymore. Even with all the differences standing between us, he's back to his old self when he trusted me. Even better now because there are no more half-truths. We tell each other everything.

I can't begin to describe the relief it gives me.

I used to walk carefully around these topics, but after we got over the ice wall in our friendship, he began to show curiosity for this part of my life. The hatred washed away slowly and gave way to child-like awe. I patiently explained and answered all his questions. He swallowed my words eagerly and even asked me to show him my ability.

"No," I said at the time.

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"'Because' is not an answer!"

"It is to me."

He glared at me and it made me laugh. Seriousness looked silly on him.

"One day I'll get you to show it to me," he huffed.

"Yeah, keep dreaming," I replied.

He answered by throwing a bun at me.

Now he plays with the rings in my hand, studying the coloured gems to represent the two Houses I come from. And it feels completely natural. I feel so at ease with him like this. Here and now. He may be the only person I can be this free with.

"It's real pretty," he says and before I can answer he looks up at me.

Something in me stops. He's never looked at me when we're this close and my breath catches. His eyes are a honey-brown that glows golden under the sunlight. There are scattered specks of darker brown in them too. He's looking straight at me.

What does this mean?

Just when I think I understand, he looks away and at the sky.

"We should head back to camp before it gets dark," he says.

And just like that, whatever spell was on us, is gone.

"Right," I say, shaking off the feeling. Maybe it was all just in my head.

I dust myself off and get to my feet, careful to keep my eyes away from him. We walk side by side back to camp with our hands in our pockets, his voice filling the night with stories while I listen quietly.