Page 22 of To Fall for a Dragon

“You don’t have to make it sound like that. It’s not creepy or anything,” Hakko grumbled. He sipped his wine once more before leading Poe to the work area of the museum in the basement. Poe pressed close to him as they wound their way through the narrow hallways. It was unnerving not to feel heat coming from the person so close.

The spirits Caden tamed were an ominous presence Hakko could feel. They stayed in their spaces, but watchful eyes burned holes in the back of Hakko. He discreetly glanced at Poe and winced. A sheen of blood-coloured sweat glistened across his face, and his pale skin had a grey cast to it. His eyes were never still as they traced the spirits watching.

Hakko gave Poe’s hand a comforting squeeze. The ghosts wouldn’t dare attack Poe while he was in the room. “This is where I work on fibrous materials, like paper and cross-stitches. It’s climate-controlled and clean. I have gloves and tweezers if you need them.”

“It’s not necessary to be that careful. It’s not like we’re going to save this,” Poe said as they set the precious cargo on the stainless-steel table. Hakko rolled his eyes as he searched for the required tools to examine the book and letter. Poe continued to speak. “That letter you’re obsessed with isn’t what you think. It’s not a love note. It’s not a goodbye. It’s an explanation, a purging if you will.”

“Your feelings written down are still beautiful. You have a way with words, Poe. They were heartbreaking in their simplicity. Show me your bundle.” Hakko made a come-hither motion, and Poe slid the journal across the steel table. The leather binding left behind flakes, and Hakko winced. “The poor book.”

“It’s dumb and stupid. I wrote useless things.” Poe gave him a dead-eyed glare as he opened to a middle page. The binding cracked, and some of the papers fell apart. Hakko sucked in air at the lack of care, but this was how Poe needed to behave. “Writing allowed me to be free. And I did it every day. Sometimes to my friend, sometimes in this book. And on other days to the wind. It was cathartic.”

Hakko twitched at the mention of wind. The letter that he found was one he had lost so many years ago. He had a memory of receiving the note and responding to it, hoping the author would know someone cared. They had a back and forth for a season until the letters stopped, and his disappeared.

“The wind needed to confirm their friend was safe,” Hakko said around the lump in his throat.

Poe shrugged carelessly. “It was around that time that Sawyer showed up.”

Hakko went around the table and hugged Poe close. He had to show Poe he wasn’t alone anymore, and that Sawyer had no power over him.

“It was a dark day; Jonathan had joined the cause to protect Upper Canada from America. I was drowning in my cups, and Sawyer came over and flirted with me, which was dangerous, but you know him. He had his target in mind, and nothing was going to stop him.”

“That’s when you gave your life to the land?” Hakko asked delicately. The story was gripping, and Hakko had to know more.

“I guess. Sawyer ripped my throat out and left me in the cemetery. Said I wasn’t worth it. Said I was tainted. I didn’t understand what he meant.” Poe shrugged. “I dragged myself out of the trees and up to the mausoleum where I hid my mementos. I didn’t want anyone to see them. They were ugly and filled with?—”

“They’re beautiful, Poe. I can see why you think they’re bad. They’re very dark, and the words are worrisome, but they’re you. I don’t have to put your letters on display if you feel they’re not… if they hurt you. I have a whole treasure trove from across the province.”

“Maybe not what I wrote to the wind? Jonathan’s were safe-ish,” Poe offered. Hakko brought him in close for another hug. Poe was starting to look done, and Hakko was ready to take away any pain.

“I can do that, for sure. How about we pause here? It’s getting late, and I have a lot to do tomorrow in order to prepare for the gala.” Hakko faked a large yawn and watched as Poe did the same. Yawning was contagious.

“I can help?” Poe offered as Hakko placed the letters and the notebook under lock and key. Hakko was relieved that Poe didn’t fight him about locking up the exhibit.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Poe. Just relax and take a moment to breathe. Consider something different for yourself.” Hakko rolled his shoulders.

He hoped Poe would think about him and where his future lay.

ChapterThirteen

Poe nodded. He kept silent and let the world continue on without his input. He was tired. Vocalizing his problems might solve some problems because Hakko understood Poe’s considerable urge to hide. Going back to Northern Ontario was starting to sound like a very good idea. Sleeping under his moss-covered slab of granite with snow so thick and deep it took until May to melt. Poe was safe there, safe from feelings and safe from Sawyer.

“What’s wrong? Why are you so nervous? Is it the ghosts?” Hakko reached for Poe’s hand and squeezed it. His fiery eyes were calm, the flames dampened to warm embers, and it soothed Poe. Which was fucking ridiculous.

“Why are you doing this for me, Hakko? You listen, and you make decisions, and everything is designed for me when you’re the one whose livelihood is at stake. You have your gala to worry about, a monstrous mayor to contend with. You must focus on yourself, not this fucking dung heap of a failed?—”

Hakko’s face tightened, and his eyes darkened as he breathed in. The room was deadly silent as he released the air. Poe recognized in that moment that every time he said something derogatory about himself, it translated into deep hurt for Hakko.

Poe backtracked on the words. “I’m going to grab that glass of wine now.”

Hakko smiled as he slid back into the world of protector of vulnerable pieces of paper. Poe slipped around the table and paused behind Hakko. He awkwardly hugged Hakko and received a gentle pat in return. The absent touch did wonders for Poe’s self-esteem. A burning at the back of Poe’s eyes warned him of impending emotions. Dissolving into a spat of tears in front of this gentle dragon was the worst thing Poe could do as it meant he was a weak man, and only weaklings cried.

Poe girded his loins and travelled through the multitude of passageways to return to Hakko’s apartment. The ghosts tickled the back of his neck as he slunk through the halls, but nothing happened. He wavered as he stood alone in Hakko’s space. Poe tried to imagine a future where he stayed by Hakko’s side in Granite. They’d protect the cemetery from whomever was attempting to destroy the land. Hakko would cuddle Poe in his big, strong arms and reassure him of everything positive. Was he actually going to do this? Was Poe changing his mind? Did he want to be with people on a continual basis again?

“Poe?” Hakko’s voice disrupted his internal thoughts, making Poe jump. “Are you alright?”

Poe whipped around and found Hakko hovering in the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room, Poe’s wine goblet in his hand. His brow was furrowed with concern as he waited for Poe.

“Fine. Just pondering shit.”

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