Beside

48 - authored

"I saw a rainbow today. It didn't have all the colours."

"Maybe it was tired."

"Rainbows don't get tired, Fox."

"How do you know? You ever asked one?"

ｃｈｒｉｓ

We're here again, but this time, we're the first to arrive.

The classroom's lit in the hazy sun, dusty and old. It's so beautiful. Dust motes dance in the air, caught in summer's sizzling heat. I cough a bit as we take those two same seats in the back row, always ready to hide.

Fox slumps beside me, eyes heavy-lidded, his chin holding up his tired head. His other hand rests in a loose fist on the desk. There's a new bruise on his cheek, something he said was his fault. He simply wasn't paying attention during sparring with Cam. He told me it doesn't hurt, and I guess I have to believe him. His skin has too many stories it won't let go of.

Professor Lynn arrives a few minutes later in a floral dress that drags on the ground, books in her hands. She narrows her eyes at me when I smile, waving.

Fox catches my hand and brings it back down. "We're not registered in this class. You're making us conspicuous." He sets my hand on my notebook, pulling away.

"Well, she looked over here," I defend quietly, wishing he'd keep one point of skin contact with me forever.

Soon, the twenty, thirty, forty other students amble in from the doorway, most of them five minutes after the official start of class. Professor Lynn doesn't appear surprised, just annoyed. I imagine teaching summer classes has worn her down over the years. 

"Nice of you all to join me this morning." She's as exhausted as they are.

Fox's small huff is an attempt at levity. I want to kiss his head, to press my lips to the mess of sandy hair there and tell him it's okay, that he can lean on me anytime, for as long as he needs. But I don't. We're keeping it easy, keeping it casual. I've already dared to offer hugs, which seem to chip away at my heart more and more each time. Chris, you know I care about you.

It's enough as it is.

The professor's voice pulls me back, and I realize she's asking us to write again. My hand moves to open my notebook. The first page is filled with my erotic short story from last time. I don't think I have it in me to read it, so I flip to a blank page and write the date in the top right.

New page. Fresh start. I can keep going.

But I can't stop my head from turning, from looking at him again. He looks different here, softer, the hard edges of his world temporarily blurred. And then his eyes flutter shut.

I hold my breath, frozen, as he slumps softly against my shoulder, his breathing slow and even.

There is no Little Fox, Now Fox, Dr. Fox, or Mercy. There's just him, and here he is, resting from a tired, tired world. 

"Today, we're exploring places of safety—of refuge, if you will." Prof Lynn's gaze sweeps the room before she turns to the board, writing one word in big, bold strokes:

𝗛 𝗜 𝗗 𝗘 𝗔 𝗪 𝗔 𝗬

Each letter glows on the blackboard in a different colour. The H is dark purple, the I is white, and the A is a deep red.