As Rahil approached the shed, Mercer didn’t move from his place leaning against the entrance, his arms crossed and his face a mask again. “I’ve arranged for the unholy gold to be collected in the morning.”
All the turmoil Rahil had felt watching Natalie’s eyes light up at the sight of that mystical metal tried to wash back over him, but he had agreed to this. Despite everything in him protesting the idea of it now, he’d known what he was signing up for. Mercer was counting on him. So, with his better judgement screaming at him, he said only, “Yes. Right.”
At least it wasn’t until tomorrow.
When Mercer didn’t respond, Rahil crept closer to the shed, not sure why he was so nervous suddenly. The damage to their relationship had already been done, hadn’t it? And it wasn’t like Mercer was going to do anything more to him. There was little worse hecoulddo.
Rahil pointed awkwardly behind Mercer, still holding the cursed notebook in one arm. “There’s just a couple pieces of Leah’s I still need.”
Mercer nodded twice.
“It’s coming along well,” Rahil added, slipping through the door. He felt like he was walking too fast and too slow all at once. Where did arms normally go? Whatever, he was at the shelves. He grabbed what he needed—and the spare motherboard for good measure—and set the notebook down in their place. Mercer didn’t even seem to question it.
Good, then. That was good. Whether he found it someday would be up to fate then, and to him. It was better if Rahil didn’t make this choice for him, especially if they weren’t going to mean anything to each other going forward. That was good. It was fine. It was… well, it justwas, now, Rahil walking away from those shelves for the last time, and it seemed too late to change his mind.
“I’ll keep working on this when I get home.” He balanced the new pieces against his chest as he made his way back out of the shed. “It should be done soon.”
Mercer didn’t even nod this time, his throat bobbing instead. It made Rahil think, stupidly, of the taste of his blood, even fuller and richer than the incredible bready, earthen scent that always surrounded him. Rahil wanted to cry.
He took one step back, then another. He almost turned. Almost, then stopped. The heavy thing in his heart paused its aching as he cleared his throat. “Mercer?” He could still bail. He could save himself the heartbreak—but that was a lie. His heart had already broken. Now was his chance to save Merc’s heart instead. “I’ve never used that term of endearment for anyone I’ve been with since Shefali. I just—I thought you should know. It would have been yours alone, if you’d wanted it.”
There, he’d said it.
He couldn’t see Mercer’s reaction with the light streaming out behind him, enshrouding his face in shadow, only the stiffness of his posture and the stillness of his limbs. But Rahil had done his part, made the world a little better, despite what it had cost him, and now—now—he could go. So he did. He went.
Just before he reached the side yard, Mercer called after him. “I don’t think you should be working on that.” His voice sounded gruff, deeper than normal and a little strained.
Rahil cringed. The pieces felt heavy in his hands, and he understood why Mercer would want them back, why he wouldn’t want to risk Rahil carrying them off—but then again, he didn’t. He didn’t get this—didn’t get why, after how well they’d worked together, when Mercer had known the whole time what Rahil had wanted from him, why they couldn’t at least just keep doing what they’d been doing. “I’ll work quickly. You’ll have all of it back in a day at the most,” he lied, having no idea how long it would actually take him.
“No—no.” Mercer shook his head and stepped forward. The closer he came, transitioning from the harsh backlight of the shed to Rahil’s crystalline night vision, the more his stiffness looked not severe and foreboding, but awkward and scared. Where his stony mask had crumbled around the edges, Rahil could seeshame. “I mean you should take a break tonight,” he clarified, giving Rahil a grimaced half-smile. “Let’s get food or drinks or something, instead.” He swallowed, and Rahil could feel the motion of his throat from there. “Come out with me.”
Food.
Drinks.
Come out with me.
“Like…” Rahil didn’t know how to finish the question. If he did, he was afraid he’d make a run for it.
Mercer had been right to push him away. That had been the best move for both of them, Rahil knew. Yet his heart still pounded,please, please, please, as his whole world tunneled to this single moment, where Mercer was almost his, where their future could be any number of amazing things. He was young again, catching Shefali’s eye across the lecture hall as he failed Intro to Philosophy for the second time just so he could go to her TA sessions all over again, and he was ancient, staring across a humble backyard into the eyes of the beautiful fae man who’d denied him every step of the way.
He could almost feel Mercer’s fingers around his heart. The pressure of his nails. The ghosting of his breath.
Mercer swallowed again. “I’m not sure, yet.” He closed most of the space between them—not quite as much as Rahil craved, but enough to feel like Rahil could reach out and touch him if he wanted. “But I like you. I like… being with you.”
It was the most awkward announcement Rahil had ever heard, and it bloomed flowers through his ribcage and set butterflies loose in his belly. He grinned, nearly dropping the pieces in his arms from the sheer mass of exhilaration that cascaded inside him. “Youlikebeing with this useless people pleaser?” Rahil snorted. “So, you enjoy being gratified in the most frustrating and unhelpful way possible? Because I can do that—with two different holes, in fact.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Mercer grumbled.
“Identifying the endgame is the first step to achieving it, or so I’m told,” Rahil teased, but he forced himself to pull back, even if he would never have dreamed of pullingout. “I, uh, am not asking for anything more than you feel like giving, you know.”
“And I’m not promising anything more than that.” Mercer gave Rahil a stern look that made him want to giggle despite the gravity of the statement. “I just want to have a night that’s all mine, and when you’re here, I feel the world is meant for me again.”
That made Rahil so happy, he almost couldn’t focus on the why of it. To be the thing in all the world that made someone else feel like it belonged to them? It sounded too much like a second whale. Rahil tried to suppress the panicked joy. “What about Lydia?”
“She’s at a sleepover,” Mercer said, his inflection strangely lacking.
It wasn’t the best sign, Rahil figured, but he also didn’t know what to do about it, so he simply made a sound, hoping that spurred the conversation on. “Oh?”
