The first morning after their deal, Dorian awoke with a strange sense of purpose. The usual dread that clung to him was replaced by a quiet determination. The world outside his window was bathed in the soft glow of dawn, and for once, he felt an urge to greet the day instead of hiding from it.
Caius was there, of course, lingering in the shadows like a ghostly guardian. His presence was both a comfort and a challenge, a constant reminder of the pact they'd made. As Dorian dressed, Caius watched with an amused curiosity, his crimson eyes following Dorian's every move.
"So, what's the plan for today?" Caius asked, his tone light but laced with that ever-present edge of mockery.
Dorian paused, considering the question. The idea of a "plan" was foreign to him. He'd spent so long drifting aimlessly, letting life happen to him, that the concept of taking control felt almost alien. But today was different. Today, he had a month—just one month—to live without fear.
"I don't know," Dorian admitted, pulling on a worn jacket. "I guess... I'll start with breakfast."
Caius raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Breakfast? That's your big plan?"
Dorian shot him a look. "I have to start somewhere, don't I?"
With a shrug, Caius faded into the background, his presence still palpable but less intrusive. "As you wish, Dorian. Lead the way."
The first stop was a small café downtown, a place Dorian had passed by countless times but never dared to enter. It was one of those quaint, cozy spots that seemed to radiate warmth, with mismatched chairs and local art on the walls. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods greeted them as they walked in, a scent that was both comforting and unfamiliar.
Dorian ordered the most decadent breakfast on the menu—a stack of fluffy pancakes drenched in syrup, topped with fresh berries and whipped cream. It was the kind of meal he would have denied himself before, too conscious of calories and too lost in his own self-loathing. But today, he ate with abandon, savoring every bite as if it were a revelation.
Caius watched him with mild interest, occasionally making snarky comments but mostly just observing. Dorian could feel the demon's eyes on him, a constant reminder of the wager they'd made. But instead of feeling pressured, he found himself oddly comforted by Caius's presence. It was like having a silent companion, someone who expected nothing and judged even less.
After breakfast, Dorian wandered the city aimlessly, indulging in small pleasures he'd long denied himself. He bought a sketchpad and some pencils, something he hadn't done in years. Art had been a passion of his in childhood, a way to express the emotions he couldn't put into words. But as he grew older, it had become just another source of frustration, a reminder of his perceived failures. Now, though, with Caius's silent encouragement, he found himself sketching again, the lines flowing from his pencil with an ease he hadn't felt in years.
They spent the afternoon in a park, Dorian seated on a bench with his sketchpad while Caius lounged nearby, pretending to be disinterested but clearly intrigued. Children played on the swings and ran through the grass, their laughter filling the air. Dorian sketched them, capturing their carefree joy in quick, sure strokes. It felt good to create again, to lose himself in something other than his own despair.
