Page 11 of To Fall for a Dragon

“Great, great. Tea’s good. Can you tell me about your—this building? You said it was a house of industry?”

“Yeah, the house of industry or to the laymen, the poorhouse. It was where people went when no one wanted them. If they were not the perfect citizen or they were considered old and out to pasture, they came here,” Poe explained with no inflection in his voice. “Sometimes kind people ran the household. A lot of times, they weren’t so good. And there’s a reason why the cemetery has so many unmarked graves.”

“Is that how the building became haunted?” Hakko’s heart clenched in sympathy. The pain and despair in Poe’s voice were harsh and sharp.

“Yes, in a way? The walls have emotions and retained memories. This place was a wretched home, but it was a roof over our heads when the storms came. We had some happy moments too. I’m not saying otherwise, but there’s enough darkness to hide the light.”

Hakko scrutinized his favourite place with new eyes. Poe’s stark tale of the building’s past hurt, and he couldn’t deny the shivers of apprehension that tickled down his spine as he remembered walking the dim halls. “Is that why you suggested a witch?”

“Yeah.” The word was a sigh as Poe leaned back and studied the ceiling. “They can help the building create a better future than its past. I’m not that person. I don’t have the talent or the right skills to do a thorough cleanse.”

“I would never ask you for that. I—” Hakko stopped talking. “I know a friend of a friend who could help.”

“You should contact them soon if your building is starting to misbehave,” Poe said quietly.

The conversation died, and Hakko struggled to start another topic that was safe or didn’t have any hidden mines. He liked having Poe in his space, and he planned to keep him here as long as possible. Hakko was afraid that if they ran out of information to share, Poe would hightail it out of there and disappear.

“You mentioned you saw an ad that caught your attention?” Hakko circled back to the letter conversation and was surprised to see a dash of pink cross Poe’s cheeks, which were gaining some colour. He wasn’t as washed out as he had been.

The kettle whistled, and Hakko moved to the counter to make tea. He hoped it’d give time for Poe to sort out what he wanted to say.

“There was a thing in a newspaper in a different county, and one of the pictures was a letter that looked familiar. The words were blurred out, but… it spoke to me,” Poe mumbled. Hakko cocked his ear to fully listen. He'd remain silent if it meant Poe would continue.

“Right, I think Ethan did that. He sent out something to neighbouring counties to draw people in. We have letters going back centuries and from different parts of the province. It was quite the endeavour,” Hakko said as he set the steaming mug of herbal tea in front of Poe.

Hakko disappeared into his office to grab his propaganda for the letter exhibit. Passing over the flyer, he waited for Poe to read it.

“Oh, this is a nice letter. It’s very sweet.” Poe traced the picture of Hakko’s favourite line. “You said you got a lot of these? Not just ones from here?”

“People are very sentimental, it turns out. And you were right. The letters speak of a time when communication happened just through missives. I apologize again for saying otherwise.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Poe dismissed Hakko’s words, which concerned Hakko a tiny bit. “It’s just some of the letters you have on display are mine.”

ChapterSeven

Poe didn’t mean to blurt out the truth of his return. He still planned on going in and grabbing his letters before buggering off to his bolthole. Hakko’s earnestness and honest empathy almost destroyed Poe’s will to follow through.

Hakko’s golden eyes widened in shock. The dragon was bursting with excitement, and Poe was tempted to fly off. Somehow Hakko managed to contain himself, and he sat straight like a good boy and waited for Poe to continue. His intensity was wild and possibly arousing?

“It was stupid of me. I was a boy who… honestly, I’m shocked the letters still exist. I could have sworn Jonathan’s father would have burnt them.” Poe rubbed the back of his head as he spoke.

“Jonathan?”

Poe pressed his lips together. He wasn’t ready to speak about his ill-fated crush with this man sitting across from him.

“Poe, I promise, I won’t say anything. Tell me your story.” Hakko crossed his heart and smiled. Poe thought for the millionth time that maybe Hakko was the person to open up to. In the day and a half he had known the dragon, Hakko had done nothing but be kind and considerate to Poe’s prickliness. “Some of the sentiments in those letters are still relevant today. It’s amazing how much is different and yet remains the same. Paper might change, styles and words might change, but they feel the same love and longing toward another person. It’s epic.”

“Have you read all the letters you received?” Poe asked, shocked. “How many did you get?”

“Ethan, my assistant, and I curated every one of them. We skimmed through a majority, but they each deserved a chance to be discovered. I hope this will help someone,” Hakko said.

“How did you find my letters?” Poe asked as he gazed into the tea. The pale colour hid a sweet flavour.

“They were here in the museum in a box. Someone had donated them many years ago,” Hakko said. “Some of those letters were so beautiful. They gave me chills. Was Jonathan a… good friend?”

Poe thought about his own box of letters in the mausoleum. How could Poe explain that Jonathan was a man of the times and that the expectations of his father weighed heavily on him? “He went to war and then…”

“Ahh.” Hakko placed his hand on Poe’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Whomever Jonathan was, he was a lucky person. Not everyone deserves or receives such devotion.”

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