Page 57 of Oh, Sacred Dark
They felt like Drops, even though Roman knew they weren’t.
He mentioned it to Dr Li-Shun hesitantly, and she told him it was normal—nightmares were part of healing.
It didn’tfeelnormal.
“You okay?” Tyler asked, eyebrows bunched in concern. They were standing in his kitchen, food almost ready to put in the pan.
“Yeah,” Roman responded, managing a smile. He didn’t say anything about how he’d woken up outside last night, standing on his doorstep, door open behind him. Didn’t tell Tyler about how he felt like there was something terrible following him around.
Like there was something terrible inside him.
Dr Li-Shun had said it was normal. Recovery wasn’t linear. He didn’t have to tell Tyler every little thing.
Everything was fine. This was just one more thing to get over.
Roman burnt the vegetables a little, but the meal turned out fine—Roman found it hard to muster enough energy to care much about it. It was only when they moved to the couch, and Tyler tried to put his arm over his shoulders, that he snapped back into reality—flinching away from the contact.
They both froze, staring at each other.
“Ro,” Tyler started, sounding surprised. “What is it? Are you hurt, or—”
“No. No, no, I’m just…in a weird mood. I’m sorry. I don’t know what…” Roman couldn’t even think up a plausible excuse except that the thought of anybody touching him made his skin crawl.
“No—that’s okay. You’re good. We all need a little space sometimes,” Tyler reasoned.
Roman nodded, grateful for the out, guilt chewing him up inside.
They had barely touched by the time Roman left. He could tell Tyler was unsettled, but Roman couldn’t explain it either.
He just wanted to be alone.
Even when he got home, though, he could feel Tyler on him. It took him five minutes of walking around his house restlessly to realise it was the magic imbued in the furniture—Tyler’smagic.
Roman shuddered as he traced a hand over the rocking chair, flinching away. It was slimy to the touch, making his skin tighten uncomfortably.
The bed, the tables—the fucking doorways were the same.
Roman ended up curled up in the tub, pillow clutched to his chest.
He was fine. This was a temporary symptom of recovery.
He was fine.
**********
Cross’s house was almost exactly the same as Roman’s, although the inside was much more sparse. Roman didn’t know how, but he’d accumulated an excessive amount of pillows and throw blankets. Cross, however, had decorated minimally, a single abstract painting on one of the walls, a mess of different shades of white that almost looked like nothing.
“Hey,” Cross greeted, letting Roman in. Roman had texted ahead, but Cross still seemed a little puzzled. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just. Yeah, I’m good,” Roman said, eyes flitting from one thing to another.
There was a slight pause. “All right. Sit, I’ll bring you something to drink. Hot? Cold?”
Roman frowned, having lost the thread of the conversation. “Huh?”
Cross’s concerned expression deepened. “I was just asking you what kind of drink you want.”
“Oh, I’m not thirsty,” Roman said, realising a second later that his mouth was parched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank something. “Uhm, sorry. Can I have a glass of water, actually?”
