These Cages We Build for Ourselves

Chapter 12

Time slips away faster than Aster expects, so he knows he must have slept, but it's hard to be sure. Dark dreams blend with darker memories, his thoughts caught in an endless loop. Even when he's certain he's been asleep, there's no momentary confusion upon waking. His mind picks up exactly where it left off.

Maybe this whole thing would be easier to process if he could just figure out who to blame. Thoma's pushing, his carelessness, was bad enough that Aster feels justified in his anger, but it's more complicated than that. Aster played a part in cultivating that carelessness by having no genuine feelings of any kind throughout their relationship. He almost feels like he conditioned Thoma not to worry about hurting him because he gave the impression of someone who could not be hurt. He essentially date rape drugged himself for their entire relationship, so maybe shit getting fucked up when it came to consent was inevitable. Perhaps the real surprise should be that they hadn't run into problems sooner.

And the girl... Well, maybe she should have realised his consent wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but he barely knew her. It doesn't feel worth dwelling on.

The one certainty is that none of this will ever happen again. He's done with Quell, and without it, he's more than ornery enough to stand up for himself. He feels like this should be enough, like his trauma should recognise it's served its purpose and fade away. But unfortunately, it doesn't work like that, and everything still fucking hurts.

At least it feels less panicked and immediate now. It's sinking into exhausted, depressive feelings. He's always a little bit depressed, so it's more familiar at least.

He can hear Nash puttering around downstairs, and a while later, the sound of him coming up the stairs. He's not much of a stomper, but he's too big to move around unheard.

Aster stares up at the ceiling, waiting for Nash to come in and awkwardly hint that it's time for him to leave. He's still not sure what he's going to do. He wants to face these feelings head-on, to finally process everything properly, but he knows he's a powder keg even on good days. He can't risk hurting someone.

There's a soft knock on the door. Aster ignores it. The door creaks open slightly, then all the way when Nash sees Aster's awake.

"Hey," he says, forcing an awkward smile. But he's not here to kick Aster out—unless that comes after breakfast. He's carrying a tray with a plate with eggs and toast on it. "You hungry?"

A minute ago, Aster would have said no, but the aroma wafting from the tray has his stomach telling him otherwise. Aster makes a vague, non-committal sound that Nash mercifully interprets as a 'yes.'

"You know," Nash says, carefully setting the tray across Aster's lap, "I don't think I actually thanked you. For, you know, saving my life."

Aster keeps his eyes fixed on the food. He saved far more than just Nash's life, but it's probably better Nash doesn't know the full details of what being sacrificed to a demon entails. "Well, don't make a habit of it. I'm not sure I can do that again."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nash nod. "Yeah. The clinic staff wanted your contact info to use you as a consultant if something similar happens, but I figured that'd be a bad idea. I mean, if you had to sacrifice something important to save me, you can't just make a career out of that, right? You can't keep giving until you have nothing left."

Aster wants to say that he already has nothing left, but that sounds melodramatic and probably isn't exactly true. There's bound to be some value in sacrificing the spells that keep his parents from tracking him down. Instead, he offers a noncommittal hum around a mouthful of egg and toast.

"I guess I don't really know what you can and can't do, huh?" Nash continues. "But I didn't tell them where you live. Or, like, give them your gaming handle, which is the only way I have of contacting you other than showing up at your door."

"Good. I don't need any more gaming friends," Aster mutters.

Nash's lips press down on a smile. "Not looking to replace me after all this?"

"No. You owe me now. It makes sense to keep you around."

"Is that why you disappeared for a week after I helped you? Because you felt like you owed me and you didn't like that?"

"No," Aster says, but he offers no further elaboration. He's not sure what his explanation would be even if he did feel like giving one.

"Well, if there's anything I can ever do for you..." Nash says, his voice going a little lower like maybe he's being suggestive, but Aster isn't sure there's much intention behind it. A moment later, Nash scrubs a hand through his already tousled brown hair, his posture relaxing. Whatever weird energy had been there is gone.

"Anyway," Nash says, standing. "I'll leave you alone now. If you need anything, just give me a shout. I'll be home all day."

"Mm," is all Aster offers in response. He's made it this far without manners.

There's just something so weirdly intimate and unnatural about thanking someone. He saved the guy's soul—that should say everything he doesn't want to. Words mean nothing. Only actions matter.

After Nash leaves, Aster finishes his food and then paces the room in restless circles. It's a bit bigger than his space at the boarding house. When he works up a sweat, he ducks across the hall for a shower. He's trying hard to keep it together, but even the clamminess of his skin threatens to send him spiralling again.

His feelings come in waves. For stretches, he'll feel nothing but a miserable malaise, then suddenly he's hit with a rush of something savage that sends his heart racing and leaves him desperate to escape.

Amidst it all, a crushing loneliness settles in. He knows Nash is just down the hall, and he'd probably love nothing more than to be a shoulder to cry on, but the whole thing requires way too much explanation to share with another person. Aster isn't even sure it would help anyway. At this point, the loneliness feels less like a void to be filled and more like an intrinsic part of him. Maybe he's just not wired to connect with others in a way that brings comfort. Or maybe he's too cynical and distrusting to even try.

Mid-way through the day, Nash appears with a sandwich, then quickly retreats. His guilt is palpable, and for a moment Aster feels annoyed at the useless emotion before realising it's anything but useless. It's what's keeping him fed and providing a safe haven to sort through the chaos in his head. He might not appreciate Nash's puppy-dog eyes, but the emotion behind them is serving a vital purpose.

The funny thing is that he was a much warmer person when he was on Quell. At least on the surface. If he'd kept using it indefinitely, Thoma might have eventually noticed his lack of emotional depth, but mostly he just came across as super chill. Without Quell, he's just a prickly asshole exhausted by both his own emotions and everyone else's.

For dinner, Aster gets steamed vegetables and sausages, pre-cut into bite-sized pieces. Nash is clearly no chef, and the food is a bit bland, but Aster has a talent for harnessing the power of sentiment. It's the hook the magic in the jewellery he wears relies on. Maybe there is a little inherent, restorative magic in a lovingly prepared meal.