Beyond the Horizon

13. Storyteller

"Take your jacket off," Nezumi said.

          Shion looked over his shoulder. The buttery sunlight streaming in through the boarded-up windows glittered with dust motes, illuminating their living space well enough for Shion to see.

          Their brief time in the warehouse had already adjusted Shion's vision to the dim lighting. There were times when too much light made his eyes water, but Shion still appreciated the slivers of daylight in their hiding place. It assured him there was a world beyond, something besides the ruined crates and dusty scrap metal he'd been sleeping among.

          A cool breeze danced in through the gaps in the boards and tickled Shion's cheeks. The jacket he wore created a pleasant barrier between Shion's body and the elements, and the thought of separating himself from said barrier made a shock of aggravation twist through his stomach.

           "But it's cold," Shion protested.

           Nezumi's eyes flashed, and Shion's face prickled.

          He braced himself for the argument. He and Nezumi had been through this song and dance plenty of times before. Shion made one comment about their situation, one remark about their uncomfortable surroundings, and Nezumi lectured him about being spoiled.

          Instead of getting frustrated, however, Nezumi put on a large, fake smile. Shion recognized it immediately, because he had done it to people himself. It was a "customer-service" smile, the look a retail worker wore when a customer was being particularly unreasonable but keeping their job required them to power through it with an extra dose of pep.

          "Terribly sorry for the accommodations," Nezumi said, his voice syrupy and not-at-all apologetic. "Here are your options: You can be warm and in pain, or you can be cold for a few minutes while I fix your wrist." Nezumi folded his hands together and cocked his head. "Take your pick."

          Huh, Shion thought. Never realized how condescending that actually is. He bristled at the way Nezumi spoke down to him, but he also realized customer-service rules applied in this situation, too.

          If he let Nezumi know he was aggravated, then Nezumi won.

          Shion tapped his chin and pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm. Such a difficult decision."

          He perched on one of the empty crates.

          "Fine," he said, beginning to unbutton his jacket. "It's just a few minutes."

          "Excellent choice," Nezumi said, dropping the phony smile. He crossed the room and bent down by Shion's backpack. "Hang tight."

          Shion shrugged out of his jacket. "Yes, sir."

          Nezumi clicked his tongue. Shion draped his jacket around his shoulders like a cloak in an effort to still make use of its warmth. The insulated walls of the warehouse warded off some of the cold, but without a proper heating system―and with pretty much all the windows smashed to pieces―it wasn't much warmer than outside.

          Shion watched Nezumi as he rummaged through the backpack for the first aid kit. He was quick and deft in his task, his luminous silver eyes flickering over the contents.

          Nezumi came back, clutching the little silver box in his hands. It didn't have much to it, especially not after Shion had used some of its contents to patch Nezumi up after their escape. A bolt of terror shot through Shion's chest at the realization that he and Nezumi might need to get more supplies sooner rather than later―especially if their inevitable run-ins with the Lab would result in violence.