These Cages We Build for Ourselves

Chapter 19

Rough, calloused fingers brush Aster's forehead, press against his neck, dragging him from the depths of unconsciousness. The touch should trigger his defences, but exhaustion has drained him of even that basic instinct. He manages a weak grumble, batting at the intrusion with heavy limbs.

A murmur of a voice reaches him through the fog, and though he can't make sense of the words, he recognises its timbre. Sable.

"'m fine," Aster manages, but it must not be very convincing, because Sable doesn't go away. The world tilts as hands haul him upright, and then cool plastic presses against his lips—a water bottle. He inhales the first few swallows before his body remembers how drinking works.

He hopes that's the end of it, but then Sable drags him to his feet, slinging Aster's arm over broad shoulders as he guides him to the bathroom. Aster really does need to pee, so maybe he should be grateful. He might have ended up pissing the bed otherwise.

Despite the fog of exhaustion clouding his mind, Aster remembers to wait until Sable turns away before tugging down his boxers and dropping onto the toilet. He mostly trusts Sable, but the secret tattoo above his cock needs to stay exactly that—secret. He does let Sable help him back to his bed, though, because he can't actually walk.

Sable disappears after that, though he returns what feels like hours later for another round of forced caretaking. Aster's more cooperative this time, his thoughts less scattered. When he insists again that he's fine, the words come out clear, and Sable's sceptical frown is only half as deep.

The next time Aster wakes, it's without assistance. His elbow bumps something solid as he stretches, and he cracks his eyes open to find he's sharing his bed with a jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers.

Sweet.

He wobbles to the bathroom under his own power and gulps down tepid tap water. His mouth tastes like something died in it, so he brushes his teeth.

The necklace pulses against his collarbone like a second heartbeat, Nash's tooth unnaturally warm against his skin. The magic thrumming through it is the most powerful he's ever attempted, but the peace of mind is worth the cost. Maybe it won't ever get any use, and if so, good. But this thing with Nash is escalating, and Aster can see the path it's going to sear through both their lives clearer than even Nash himself probably can. If Aster doesn't want to yank the emergency brakes and bail on this whole situation, he needs certain assurances in place.

By the time he scrapes the last of the peanut butter from the jar and inhales the final cracker, the world feels more solid beneath him. His laptop screen tells him he's only lost a day and a half. He would have survived without Sable's help, though probably not with dry sheets. He owes him thanks he has no intention of giving.

As if summoned by the thought, the distinctive clop of hooves echoes down the hall, followed by a gentle tap that could only come from one of Sable's big, meaty hands. Aster weighs his options before hauling himself up to open the door.

"Oh, good, you're up," Sable says. His hairy goat legs don't bend in a way that allows for pants, so he's wearing a tunic. Curved horns sweep back from his temples, and rectangular pupils study Aster from eyes set unnaturally wide. "I have work waiting for you, but the room is shielded, so it's not urgent."

Aster sighs. And here is how he expresses his gratitude, since it's less annoying than trying to force himself to emote appropriately. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

Once he's thrown on clothes appropriate for the outside world, they head down to Sable's car. Aster claims his usual spot in the back seat, settling in to glare out the window. Sable knows better than to attempt conversation. Aster does this work as a kindness, carefully budgeted out of the amount of bullshit he can put up with before he inevitably snaps and spontaneously combusts or whatever the fuck would happen if he ever truly lost control. Their silent agreement is simple: he shows up, does the job, and owes nothing more. Not even basic human decency.