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My Borrowed Son | 26 | Walls Tumble Down

Chapter Twenty-Six | Walls Tumble Down

The night was a completely restless one. Between the nightmare and the girl Parker was sure he saw, no sleep dared to disturb him. He lay there completely awake as his eyes darted to the trim on the ceiling and the bedside table he used to sleep on.

Nothing happened all night.

It was maddening.

Parker wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen, but something to confirm or deny what he witnessed would have been nice. Instead, the rhythmic breathing of his mom and the warmth of her nearby hand was all he registered all night long.

When the sunrise finally came around, Parker felt like he had already put in a full day. As soon as his mom opened her eyes, Parker was on his feet and nudging her.

“Mom? Mom? Are you up?” Parker repeated himself until his mom was fully upright. Parker was determined to search through anything and everything he could, and he hoped his mom would help.

Both awake, the search began. Parker and his mom combed over the different parts of the house trying to find anything that would hint at this mysterious dream girl.

Sadly, to no avail.

No marks on the trim or electric covers. No wires or items out of place. The two of them scoured the house and found nothing.

It wasn’t until Parker suggested going into the walls that his mom raised an objection.

“Parker, I don’t think that’s a good idea. There could be anything in there and I don’t want you getting hurt,” Amanda insisted. They had been at this for a few hours now and it was making Amanda nervous, and for more than one reason.

The creeping thought that she had before that there were people Parker’s size living in the walls felt more like a possibility by the minute. She hoped and prayed it was all a dream, but Parker’s insistence filled her with dread.

She needed a minute to compose herself for the conversation she knew they needed to have today, and her being rattled and sleep deprived like Parker would lead down a negative path. The adoptive mother wanted to say the right things to her son, and her overtiredness wasn’t helping. Everything felt hazy in her mind.

She just needed a minute to collect herself.

Just one minute.

And Parker wasn’t giving it to her.

“Mom, just hear me out! I’ll be back and I’ll be careful. Look! You could even tie a rope like a harness and use it to…”

I said no, Parker!” Amanda had never snapped at her son, nor raised her voice at him, and this was precisely what she did now. The fear and worry were consuming her. She just needed a moment, and her words came out before she could stop herself.

Parker, stunned that his mom adopted such a tone now of all times, felt himself tense before the emotion swelled up to choke out any other suggestion he could make.

Didn’t she know how important this was to him?

Didn’t she know what this could mean?

There might be someone his size out there! She could need help.

Parker always thought he had tough skin, but something about the exhaustion and obsession to find the truth whittled him down to raw emotion.

Dejected and confused, Parker’s shoulders sagged as he walked back to his room. He heard his mom call after him, but it wasn’t until her hand physically stopped him that he turned to face her. Vision blurred from tears threatening to crest over the edges of his eyes, Parker barely noticed his mom had the same look on her face.

“I’m so sorry, Parker. I’m… I think I’m just a bit tired. Let’s… let’s just lie down for a few minutes and reconvene for lunch. Yeah? Get back to the search then? Maybe we missed something,” Amanda suggested.

Parker sniffled and nodded. With that, his mom watched him walk back to him room down the hall. The small teen boy barely registered that he was walking. His mind was numb and he felt foggy. Something just felt off about his mom’s reaction, and he wanted to know why.

He also knew he didn’t want to take a nap.

He wanted to find the girl.

The moment he was in his space and climbing the stairs to his room that his curiosity and drive got the better of him. The more he thought, the more he was convinced what he needed to do.

He needed to search in the one place his mom couldn’t reach.

Despite what she said, he was going to go anyway.

He was going into the walls.

When he was sure his mom had stepped away and wasn’t going to walk in to check on him, he pulled on his pack like he did the first time he went into the walls and climbed down the line to the electrical cover in his room. Nerves made his hands shake as he unscrewed the panel and pulled.

Just like the one at home, it came free easily. Disbelief tugged at Parker as he looked at the screw. It looked like the other one – like it was filed down or purposefully shorter.

Parker’s ribs could barely contain his pounding heart. He forced two nervous breaths into his lungs slowly as he hoisted himself up and into the wall.

Immediately, he could see it was dark, but not as dark as the walls at home. Perhaps it was because it was daylight instead of in the dead of night, but something inside Parker told him it might very well be something completely different.

He placed one foot in front of the other carefully, like he was walking on slick ice. Something made him want to stop, but that same thing compelled him forward. It was the sensation of experiencing the unknown. It was the need to discover the truth.

Was what he saw real? Or not?

Parker wasn’t even sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Did he really want to think a girl his size was living in the walls like some weird rodent or pest? Was that the truth? Or just his imagination? Did she have his rare genetic condition? If so, why had her family abandoned her? Or had she run away?

On the other hand, was it just a part of his nightmare? His dreams felt so real. Those nightmares felt tangible. Would something that was “just a dream” make him wake sweaty and shouting for those figures being dragged away by the currents?

He was like Neo from The Matrix, torn between two choices. He hadn’t even realized he had stopped walking forward as the thought hit him.

Did he turn back and believe whatever he wanted to believe?

Or did he want to see how far down the rabbit hole went?

The teen swallowed dryly, already knowing what he wanted and yet afraid to take it.

One step.

Then another.

Parker chose to move forward toward the curve of the hallway that led further into the walls.

~~~^*^*^~~~

He hadn’t been walking long. Five minutes maybe?

As he delved further into the walls, Parker noticed the same things he did at his old home. The walls were void of debris and random chunks of fallen drywall and dust piles. There was something familiar about the walls. It was like a comforting blanket on a winter night.

Then, he saw it. As he rounded the next corner down some cords and across one beam, he saw light.

It was a soft, warm glow that would come from Christmas lights. He even turned off his own lamp to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

They weren’t.

His quiet, careful steps broke into a bold run. His heart was tearing him apart from the inside. Every thought felt like white noise humming in his skull. Parker pursued the light and whipped around the corner to see the shocking sight he couldn’t have expected.

The moment he rounded the corner, he saw what he could only describe as a mud room or supply closet.

He saw fishing hooks attached to knotted rope on the walls. There were bags in a pile in the corner of the room. Thumb tacks, razor blade with rubber on the ends, and toothpicks were in the wall at the far corner. Shoes lined the other wall, and there were quite a few with what Parker could only describe as different designs.

A roll of double sided tape hung on the walls beside a post-it note with scribbles all over it. Parker’s insides clenched as he spotted one symbol he recognized which looked like a poorly drawn house with a check mark in the middle.

I’m really through the looking glass now. Parker thought as he surveyed his surroundings. No specific emotion rose to the surface, but panic was starting to be one of them.

“Wha-… You!”

Parker nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun on his heel and saw none other than the girl with raven eyes. Time held still as he had a full minute to look at this new stranger.

“You… y-you… you’re real…” Parker couldn’t even stop the words from coming out as he exhaled in awe. The girl, on the other hand, looked tense and offended. She spun around quickly and started to sprint away, forcing Parker into a reactive panic.

“Wait! Please! Don’t go! I’m sorry!” he shouted, daring to chase after her a few steps before his legs gave out. His limbs refusing to respond as some form of shock overtook him. Parker heaved in a few deep breaths and listened desperately for the girl but heard nothing but the thunderous beating of his heart.

Was this happening? He was giving out now?

The teen simply sat there crumpled on his knees as he could do nothing else for a minute or two before something caught his attention.

“Hey! Hey! You going to start shouting for that human again?”

Parker blinked and saw the girl had returned and was peering around the corner at him.

That human? Is she talking about my mom?

“N-no… no, I… I don’t shout. Just… don’t go,” Parker replied. His desperation to talk to this girl and keep her in place overrode the girl’s insult of calling his mom “that woman.”

The girl huffed nice and loud once in a kind of scoff before stepping back into the room. She folded her arms indignantly and stared expectantly at him. The teen wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was in a world of trouble. Parker had always imagined what it would be like to meet someone else like him, but never did he imagine this kind of scenario.

Parker took in everything about her. From the way she was dressed to the way she held herself. She held herself with a certain amount of confidence that was certainly admirable. She also looked like she could verbally rip Parker a new one if he angered her more than what she already was.

Her clothes were a mismatch of blues and blacks, a severely patched poncho covering her shoulders and most of her torso. Her dark brown hair was in a ponytail held up by a piece of black yarn. There was a hook on her hip as well as what looked like a climbing rope and a lamp. She also had on a backpack, but Parker could only venture a guess as to what was inside of it.

Overall, she looked like some kind of wall bound adventurer.

“Well?” she said after Parker had stared at her for a considerable few minutes. Parker sputtered for a second, not sure what to do. She rolled her eyes and kept her arms folded. “Aren’t you going to apologize for kicking me? You left quite the bruise.”

Right! Parker recalled their tussle earlier this morning.

“Umm… yeah.. right. I’m sorry. I’m Parker. What’s your name?” asked Parker.

“Sorry for what? Be specific when you apologize,” stated the girl curtly. Parker’s mind scrambled for the words, which finally came to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to kick you. Well… I mean I did… but I thought you were trying to hurt me and that it was just a dream,” stammered Parker. The girl heaved a hefty sigh and kept her arms folded.

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” she said sarcastically. “And I’m Kit. Well, Sprokit technically, but I prefer Kit.”

“Kit, right. I like that,” grinned Parker. His heart fluttered as he took in a few calming breaths, grinning as he continued to look at this strange new girl. “I just can’t believe it. You… you’re here. You’re real. I never thought I’d meet someone else like me.”

Kit’s raven eyes narrowed.

“Someone else like you? What? Did you think you were the only one?” she asked disbelievingly. “Rude.”

“I… I’m sorry. No. I mean, of course no. I knew others had to be out there. It’s such a rare condition though. Can you blame me?” Parker had a million questions coming to his mind. The awe of finding someone else with his genetic condition was astounding.

“Condition?” asked Kit. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Confused, Parker pushed himself up and stood shakily, his entire body vibrating with excitement and nervousness as he said, “You know? Condition? Oh… wait… do you not know?”

“Know what? You’re the one talking crazy,” scoffed Kit.

Parker felt a wrenching in his gut.

This girl doesn’t know she has Parvi Homunculi Syndrome. Poor thing. Her parents probably didn’t know when they had her. She probably ran away.

“You don’t know? You must, right? Your pediatrician would have diagnosed you when you were little,” stated Parker, every thought pinging in his mind and bouncing around like a tiny rubber ball. Each thought was one he tried to stitch together to better explain to this girl her condition.

“Pedia-what? What on earth is that?” Kit asked.

“Pediatrician. It’s a doctor for kids. They give you your shots and make sure you’re well and don’t get sick and all that. You have check-ups and everything every year. Have you never been taken to one?” The notion someone had never been to the doctor was absurd to Parker.

At this, Kit bristled, and her face scrunched. Parker figured he had offended her again based on the look she gave him. “I’m not some pet to be take to the doctor, especially a human one.”

Parker was completely baffled. What was she talking about? She kept talking about “human” this and “human” that.

“But… why? I mean, you are human, just a little smaller than normal,” stated Parker.

Kit’s eyes widened. It was like she just realized something which made her stoic features unhinge. Her jaw slackened as she just stared at Parker.

The next words out of her mouth made Parker’s blood run cold.

“Good night… you really don’t know, do you…” muttered Kit in a tone of awe. Her arms went slack by her side as the pretentious air around her changed to curious tension.

“Don’t know?” asked Parker. He felt like they were both from completely different worlds. How could she not know that she was human? “Don’t know what?”

“That you’re a Borrower.”

That word.

It sounded so familiar.

It sounded like something Parker had heard before. It stirred something in the back of his mind. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch in the depths of his brain, but it was there all the same.

Borrower.

Borrower.

Borrower.

Why did that sound like he should know what it meant?

No.

No that’s not right.

This has to be a mistake.

“That’s… impossible,” muttered Parker aloud. His head swirled. To keep from losing his balance, Parker staggered backward and leaned against the nearby wall under some of the shelves. “No. You… you’re wrong. I’m… I’m a human, and so are you.” He looked up and locked eyes with Kit, but there was no play of smile on her face indicating she was just messing with him.

“Parker, I’m being serious. I’m a Borrower. You’re a Borrower. We’re not some weird small human,” asserted Kit. Parker felt completely and utterly sick. His head was throbbing. Every beat of his heart felt like it would bring the house down.

“No… No! I’m not! It’s a genetic condition. I have a genetic condition. Parvi Homunculi Syndrome. It’s a rare condition. It makes me just like a human, but smaller. Yo-.”

“Parker, don’t lie to yourself,” Kit stated firmly as she stepped forward and gripped Parker’s shoulders, forcing him to look into her coal black eyes. “You’re a Borrower and you have been all your life. That human took you and has been keeping you like some kind of sick pet.

“She’s been lying to you. That human down there has been lying to you. You’re not human. You’re a Borrower. You belong with other Borrowers, not down there in the human world! That’s why I went down last night. I was trying to rescue you. I didn’t think that you wer-.”

“No!” Parker couldn’t take it anymore. He reached up and shoved out as hard as he could, which sent Kit flying across the room, which was spinning violently. “I… I don’t believe you. I…”

Suddenly, his vision started to darken into little pinpoints. He started breathing harder and faster, but it did him no good. Every breath felt completely absent. It was like his lungs were paper bags with holes cut in them.

Nothing was sticking.

No thought.

No air.

No way to stabilize this swirling room.

Parker fell to his knees and felt the thrum of his pulse in every part of his body.

It couldn’t be helped. Though breakfast was scarce, everything on the inside was suddenly bubbling up his throat and exploding out of his mouth. The acid burned his throat and mouth, making breathing impossible.

The ringing in his ears blocked all sound. Parker’s shaking was uncontrollable.

It wasn’t until he felt something around his shoulders that he finally started to see again. Though the ringing in his ears didn’t stop, Parker blinked away his daze to see something had been draped over his shoulders. What confused him was that it was brown, and nothing either of them had on was brown in any stretch of the imagination.

Warily, Parker glanced over and saw not one but two new sets of boots standing directly to his right. He swallowed roughly and blinked his eyes tight and reopened them.

No.

It wasn’t his imagination.

They were real.

A string of acid tasting drool slipped from his laxed mouth, but he didn’t care. The teenager, crouched on all fours, dared to look up and, to his mortified astonishment, saw two new faces. One face had the same charcoal black eyes and blond hair. He looked older than Parker, but not by much. His features reminded Parker of some of his classmates, who were all two or three years older than him.

The other was a man who, for all Parker knew, could have been about the age of his mom. He was obviously athletically built, muscles noticeably tone and sharp. His clothes were also in tatters, just like Kit’s clothes made of patches and odd pieces, and there was a thumbtack and stay pin on his hips.

The man had these keen blue eyes built for assessing and survival. Parker couldn’t discern how he knew, but he just did. The man’s hair was a dark and shaggy brown, and it had been tied up into a weird kind of bun. He was crouched by Parker’s side, and he looked worn out and irritated, but the young teen could sense it wasn’t with him.

“You okay, kid?” asked the man as he scanned Parker’s face and his crouched body. Parker felt his eyes burning and realized only now that his face was wet.

“I…” Parker’s head swirled again. His chest spasmed and he coughed up a few more chunks that had been lodged in his throat. The man rested his hand on Parker’s back reassuringly and patted him a few times.

“Yeah, you’re alright. As alright as you can be I guess,” said the man. He sounded tired and resigned. Parker barely registered the man turning his head up toward the other pair of boots that were nearby. “So, you two decided to take it upon yourselves then, hmm?”

“She did,” grumbled the other teen.

“What? You’re pinning this on me?” demanded Kit. “We all talked about it. I’m just the only one who decided to do something about it. I didn’t think you were serious about this kid not knowing he was a Borrower.”

“Kit!” scolded the other guy, this “Borrower” thing they kept throwing around, as he stepped up to her. Parker wondered if they were related because of their shared eyes. The other one, however, didn’t look like he was related to the two teens his age.

Parker was so distracted that it took another gentle nudge from the older stranger to get his attention. He was holding up something that looked like part of a plastic bag with some clear liquid in it.

“Don’t worry. It’s water. Swish and spit, okay?” he offered. Parker tried swallowing again, but his throat felt like sandpaper. Without a word, the man stood, snagged Parker by his armpits, and helped him to sit with his back against the wall as he offered the clear bag again.

The simple command of reaching up and grabbing the bag was almost too much for Parker’s muscles to endure, but he somehow found the strength to reach out and take the bag. The water felt cool and refreshing and getting that nasty bile out of his mouth made Parker feel a sense of clarity.

While Parker swished the water, the two other teens continued to argue.

“I told you that if you didn’t tell mom and dad that I would tell them,” said the one.

“Finnick! You traitor! I was going to tell them. I just wanted to check and see if we had to run for our freaking lives because of this one and the human downstairs. I didn’t think you meant waking mom and dad up first thing and telling them,” Kit spat.

They went round and round with this as the older man stayed crouched by Parker’s side. With a hefty sigh, he didn’t even glance at Parker when he said, “So, they told you?”

It wasn’t hard to guess what the stranger was referring to, so Parker dared to nod his head.

“T-they told me that my… that I’m… not… that I’m…” Words were hard. Any coherent thought Parker had was completely fried. Everything hurt. The man nodded slowly and smiled sympathetically as he rested his hand on Parker’s shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry, Parker. You should’ve been told sooner, but it never seemed to be the right time,” sighed the stranger. This sparked a million new branching thoughts, each leading to nowhere specifically. Parker, now partially in control of his faculties, turned his head to look the stranger in the eye. One thought managed to manifest itself, and Parker wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“H-how… how do you know m-my name?” he stammered. The man’s shoulder’s slumped. He looked defeated yet resigned to his fate.

“I’ve known you for a while now, you just didn’t know it since I was hidden. I’ve been watching over you for a little while now, Parker. You and your mom both,” he said. Parker felt his head swirl again as his insides threatened to once again turn inside out.

This guy has been watching me? Watching my mom? Is he a stalker? Who does stuff like that? Who just watches people? Has he been living in the walls?

Parker’s memory flashed of that fateful night when he saw a shadow outside of his space and went into the walls after finding that mark on the electrical cover wood panel.

“Y-you. You! It was your shadow I saw that night?” asked Parker. The man sighed and nodded slowly.

“I thought you were in the other room and wanted to check on your space to make sure you were doing alright. I didn’t think you were nearby but ran for it the moment I realized you were close,” said the man.

At this point, the siblings’ argument was so loud that it was hurting Parker’s head. The strange man obviously had had enough and stood abruptly, taking a step toward the two fighting teens.

“You always do stuff like this! You’re always going off on your own because you think you know what’s best. Now, we’ll have to leave because you were careless an-”

“Oh sure! Blame me! I’m little Mr. Perfect over here and never break any of the Borrower rules! You would never think about accidentally revealing yourself or leaving something out of place because you wanted to help the human girl because you thought she was cute!”

“That’s enough!” the man roared over the two squabbling siblings. It was so loud it made all of the teens jump a little, Parker especially because it reminded him of his mom’s tone earlier this morning. The silence that followed was tense. Discomfort filled the small room.

Parker saw the two other teens bristle, but their argument stopped thankfully.

“Fighting like this is doing us no good. Finnick, you went and got me because you wanted us all to be present to discuss what we thought Parker did and didn’t know. Kit, you know you had a hand in all of this. Finnick wouldn’t have gotten me unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Your parents made sure to know how they felt about me yesterday when I warned you about Parker’s situation. Now, we need to stop fighting amongst ourselves and focus on the task at hand, which is helping Parker readjust to everything that was just dumped on him,” said the man. “Now, if you two don’t mind, you should lead the way. Finnick, based on what you said, your parents are waiting for all three of us. I’m sure our fourth will be welcome as well.”

Parker knew they were talking about him, but all he could do was stare at the clear liquid in the bag in his hands. He felt like that liquid, contained in a perfect little container that had now shattered into a million pieces that had no hope of reassembling.

“Parker?” The teen glanced up and stared into the strange man’s face for several seconds, only now noticing the scar on his cheek that had long since healed.

“Y-yes?” said Parker as he fumbled over this one word.

“If you want some answers, you can come with us. I know all of this is strange. It probably feels like nothing is real right now, but I can tell you it is. I can help take you back or you can come with us. We’ll answer your questions and then take you back when you’re ready,” said the man.

Parker’s mind was a blurry haze. Nothing made sense, and yet it did at the same time. There were so many questions lingering in his mind that he couldn’t reach. It was like whisps of smoke. Every time one was nearly visible, it vanished into thin air never to be seen again.

It was the offer of some truth that gave Parker the strength to stand shakily to his feet and nod.

“Oh… o-okay,” he said weakly.

“Need help walking?” offered the man. Parker shook his head and pulled what he could now see was some kind of brown cloak further over his shoulders. Based on the way it dragged the ground, it probably belonged to the man rather than one of the two teens Parker’s age.

Staggered step after staggered step, Parker followed behind the teens and beside the strange man.

Parker’s heightened senses for danger and other such things weren’t going off, which was either good for him or bad for him. Stranger danger was a thing, but the situation he was in was beyond worrying about strangers.

This was something earth shattering, and all at once Parker felt like his world was collapsing in on itself.

The thing he knew for certain was that there was no going back, and he might as well hear these peoples’ answers before going back to talk to his mom.

His mom…

Parker hoped and prayed that this was some kind of elaborate prank and that these people just didn’t realize they had Parvi Homunculi Syndrome.

Sadly, as he followed them through the labyrinth of walls and climbed cables and exposed nails, he slowly began to realize that his hopes were just a pipe dream. Parker climbed, hand over fist, up a makeshift ladder and found himself face to face with what looked like a ragtag house. There were windows and a door and a mix of Christmas and fairy lights all going inside of the structure.

It was official.

This was a home.

A home within a home.

It made Parker ask the gut-wrenching question he had been dreading.

If these people had, Parvi Homunculi Syndrome, would they be living up in this crawl space hiding away from the world?

Which thing is true? Am I a human? Or am I this other thing? A Borrower?  

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

Beginning

[selastheblue]

Fairy’s Best Friend

And here comes the puppy! I love when stories have a giant, friendly pet involved and I knew I wanted to add that here!

2K words

The next morning, Sage found herself sitting by the entrance to the box on the table watching Arthur bustle around the kitchen. He hummed quietly to himself while he pulled out various items from cabinets and a large steel box. As he began organizing the ingredients in front of him, Arthur glanced over at her temporary box home.

He smiled at the tiny face poking out of the doorway. "Good morning Sage. How'd you sleep?"

Sage slightly flinched but managed to stop herself from disappearing back into the box. She knew it was unlikely the human would hurt her, but prey instincts were a difficult thing to overcome. Being in sight of something big enough to eat her in a single bite is considered suicide back in her forest home.

It took a couple tries, but Sage managed to find her voice. "I slept well." She replied simply.

Arthur had to lean in to hear the soft voice. "That's good," he said,"I know how hard it can be sleeping away from home." He reached over and cracked some eggs on the side of a bowl, letting the contents plop into the center and began to stir. He then poured it into a pan and set it over a blue flame on the stove.

The tiny woman wished she could see what Arthur was doing, but her spot on the table was far to short to see over the counter. Heights have never been a problem for her and her wings instinctively began to flutter only to immediately stop as pain shot through her back. Her body spasmed a little and she stifled a cry, but she forced herself to remain seated as if nothing happened. Sage was still struggling to get used to being grounded.

Either Arthur didn't notice Sage's mishap or chose to ignore it as he ripped open a package of bacon. "So," he continued,"how do you feel about bacon and eggs for breakfast? We also have some more fruit if you would rather have that." He said as he laid out strips of bacon onto a second pan.

Sage stayed silent as she thought over the question. Of course she knew what eggs were, but had never tried to eat one due to the protective nature of the mama bird. One time on patrol, Sage dove into a tree trunk to avoid the talons of a hawk only to meet the wrath of a soon-to-be-mom Robin that had nested inside of the same tree. She barely made it out with her life because of an airmen's distraction. From what she's seen, bird eggs were pretty small and definitely didn't provide a sufficient meal for humans. That's probably where the 'bacon' came in (whatever that was).

Although she was curious about these new foods, especially with the delicious smell forming in the air, she decided to play it safe. "I'll just have some fruit," Sage answered.

"Sounds good!" Arthur answered enthusiastically as he turned off the burner under the now scrambled eggs. He hummed a cheery tune while avoiding the hot bacon grease popping out of the pan.

Sage observed Arthur energetically dancing to the song he was humming despite it being too early for that amount of liveliness. She smiled at the reminder of Rod, the most obnoxious morning person she ever met. Those two would get along perfectly, she couldn't help but think.

A wave of sadness struck her at the thought of her best friend back at The Hollow. He must be terrified right now. Frantically pulling together plans to find Sage out in the storm knowing he would never find her among the ever-falling snow. She couldn't wait for the moment she got to return to Rod and pretend the whole ordeal was just a bad dream.

The table shaking underneath her seat signaled the arrival of the second human. Her heart began to pick up its pace. Not because of Cade, who managed to gain some of her trust, but the other set of footsteps that were very quickly approaching the kitchen. They were lighter and resembled the steps of an animal.

An energetic ball of grey and white fur trotted into the kitchen. The animal's light blue eyes immediately locked onto the fairy on the table and the dog began to make a beeline for her.

Sage cried in alarm and frantically back peddled into the box to get away from the giant animal. Her leg stung from the frantic movement but it wasn't nearly as painful as yesterday, she might even be able to run on it if she needed to escape the dog. Except the only exit was the door with the dog right outside and Sage was not in the condition to test fate anymore. She'll have to talk to Arthur about that. For now, all she could do was wait and hope the box would hold up against the ginormous beast.

The ground quaked underneath her seat accompanied by a loud thud. Claws could be heard scraping against the wooden floor almost drowning out the string of curses coming from a human. A large blue eye suddenly blocked the doorway and zeroed in on Sage huddled on the far side of the box.

"Are you okay Sage?" Arthur asked quietly.

Her heart was beating frantically against her chest but she still gave him a small nod. "I didn't know you had an animal here," she commented. If Sage had known, she would have asked to move her temporary home someplace higher.

"Yeah sorry for the rude wake up call," Arthur apologized sheepishly. "After everything that happened yesterday, we kinda forgot about the dog greeting you."

"But everything's fine now if you want to come out and meet him." He said and the eye vanished from the door.

Sage slowly made her way to the door but hesitated right before she stepped outside. The dog was out of sight from her spot on the table but she could still hear its cries and occasional struggles coming from nearby. She exchanged a glance with Arthur, who was crouched next to the table, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

Her wings quivered nervously despite their pain as Sage walked to the edge of the table to see what happened to the animal. Both the dog and Cade were on the floor, the dog squirming under the human's firm hold. With the way Cade was sprawled out on the floor, it was clear he tackled the dog before it reached the table. All to protect her.

The older human looked up and gave her a strained smile as he continued to struggle with keeping the dog still. "Sorry 'bout this Sage, he slipped past me when I opened the door."

The dog noticed Sage up on the table and let out a pitiful cry. The small woman took a few steps back from the edge of the table as the dog attempted to lunge forward again. Cade cursed under his breath when the animal managed to drag him a couple feet across the floor, only stopping when Arthur placed himself between the dog and the table.

When Cade readjusted his hold on the dog and seemed to have everything back under control, Arthur looked back at Sage. With him crouched and her on the table they were near eye level with each other, much to Sage's relief. She hated how much humans loomed over her.

"This is Tukka," He said, gesturing to the dog in Cade's arms. "He may look scary but he's really a gentle fluff ball. We just don't want him near you while you're recovering, he can be a lot to handle."

"Tukka is actually the one that found you in the snow." Cade chimed in with some pride in his voice.

She gave the brother's a skeptical look. It was hard to believe an animal chose to save her life rather than eat her, but Sage did vaguely remember the dog looking down at her before she passed out in the snow. She mistakenly identified it as a wolf at the time but it was now easy to spot the difference between Tukka and the wild wolves roaming the forest.

She stepped closer to the edge again and Arthur scooted to the side so Sage could see the dog. Right when Tukka spotted her on the table he began to whine. It wasn't a "You're not letting me eat the fairy" type of cry, it was more of a "I want to become friends with you" cry. She found herself wondering if the dog was as soft and fluffy as he looked. If Tukka really saved her life, then surely she could finally pet a huge animal without worrying about being its next snack.

"Can-can I pet him?" She hesitantly asked.

The brothers looked at each other for a moment, seemingly having a silent conversation. Then Cade readjusted his grip to the dog's collar and got off the floor. Tukka immediately started yanking on his collar and dragged Cade the last foot to the table. Arthur stayed crouched near Sage just in case. Both brothers knew Tukka wouldn't try to hurt the fairy, but they weren't sure how gentle the husky would be being as excited as he currently was.

They watched nervously as Tukka raised his nose towards Sage. The dog was the size of a building compared to her, but Sage bravely held her ground and slowly reached out her hand for the dog to sniff. Her brown hair blew as if she were standing in a breeze instead of a dog's breathing as he sniffed her tiny hand. Then he inched slightly forward and gently nuzzled her chest with his nose. She giggled and leaned over to pat Tukka's snout with a huge smile on her face.

Arthur grinned at how happy Sage looked. Even Cade, who was annoyed at having to tackle his dog and getting dragged across the floor first thing in the morning, had a tired smile on his face. It was relieving to see the timid fairy finally getting a little comfortable in his home, even if it was just because of Tukka.

When Cade determined that Tukka was going to behave himself, he let go of the collar and made his way to the coffee maker. Arthur, on the other hand, stayed put and curiously watched the three-inch woman interact with the giant dog. He was surprised at how well Tukka was doing. The dog kept his head completely still so Sage could scratch his nose, but his tail was wagging a mile per minute.

Tukka then lifted his head slightly off the table causing Sage to back up. Before she could even react, Tukka gave her a big, wet kiss. Sage quickly backed up and sputtered in shock from getting licked by the dog, something she had no idea dogs did. Her black jumpsuit was soaked in slobber and she had to wipe her face dry with her hands.

She looked over to Arthur who had his head turned and his hand covering his mouth. Sage clearly noticed his shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to hold in his laughter. She cursed under her breath and glanced back at Tukka whose head still rested on the table, smiling innocently. She sighed and patted the large nose, unable to stay mad at such a cute animal.

Cade returned to the table with his hot coffee in hand and curiously glanced between Arthur dying of laughter on the floor and Sage's bedraggled state. He chose not to say anything and sat himself at the table near Sage. He tore off a corner of the napkin he brought over and handed it to the fairy. She still warily watched his hand but gratefully took the napkin from his fingers.

As she tried to clean the dog slobber off, Arthur began to gather his composure. "You should have seen the look on your face!" He chuckled as he pretended to wipe tears from his eyes.

Sage slightly flinched from the human's booming voice before sending him a glare,"Well let's see your face when a giant animal licks you" she shot back.

"Have you had breakfast yet Sage?" Cade changed the subject before the two got too riled up for him to handle.

Sage turned to look up at him and shook her head. Cade simply nodded at his younger brother who got up to retrieve the berries she requested earlier, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. Arthur came back with a small saucer plate with some berries and nuts along with a bottle cap of water, placing it beside her spot on the table.

Arthur then went back and retrieved two plates of eggs and bacon for him and Cade. He sat down in a chair next to his brother as Sage settled on the table with a berry in hand. Realizing Sage was no longer paying attention to him, Tukka let out a small whine before begrudgingly lying underneath the table.

[selastheblue]

A Journey Shared

Part 29 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here. Just guys being dudes, getting naked in the woods. You know how it is.

“Y’know… if you ever run out of places to go, there’s always a tin can with your name on it.” Captain Calloway said.

Joe paused in the middle of sipping his spills, then set the glass down and tried to decode the bartender’s meaning. His eyes followed the rag the captain was wiping back and forth along the countertop as alarm bells went off in his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“Oh y’know, just thinking if things ever get bad…” the captain didn’t look up from his cleaning and lock eyes with Joe until he uttered the rest of the phrase, “…you’ve still got options.”

The cans. Perennially dark, dank, and dismal, they were part of the network of burrows that the Calloway Kids – back when employing Calloway Kids was more financially viable – had lived in. Each chamber held a tin can, and not much else. Joe had long since abandoned them for greener floorboards, so why the captain was bringing them up now of all times left him equal parts puzzled and unsettled. He leaned over the counter and chose his words very carefully.

“Things aren’t bad, Captain. Things are very, very good. You know that!” He said.

The captain’s one eye darted around the bar in conspiratorial fashion, and, when he decided the coast was clear, he beckoned Joe closer.

“I’ve been hearing rumours – and I’m not saying they’re true, mind you.” Joe felt the blood drain from his face - he already knew where this was going. “Some people have been saying you’ve had it a little too good lately. I disagree, ‘cause what do they know? Just sayin’ you might wanna keep an eye out.”

“You talking about Gutters?”

“And the people stupid enough to listen to him. They’re out there.”

Joe felt his skin prickle as he leaned back and scanned the room, wondering exactly who those people were. His mind wandered back to the marking at Tiny Town, and how quickly one man's mere act of leaving had spiraled into a witch hunt. For weeks he had been avoiding the issue and distracting himself with anything else he could find, but as Calloway’s words sank in, a sinking feeling came along with them. Joe wondered how much longer he would have until he ended up a marked man himself.

His mind wandered back to Lorraine. Lucky she had called him. Didn’t everyone’s luck run out eventually?

His hand began to quiver, and the glass shook along with it. This time Joe wasn't shaking with fear, but with rage, and the same question he had blurted out to Mr. Dawson months ago escaped him once again.

“Why does that even matter? Who cares what I do, Captain? So what if some people like giants?”

As Joe spoke he felt the gaze of a thousand imaginary eyes burning into his back. He couldn’t tell how many of the other patrons overheard him, or how many more were looking. He was too afraid to turn his head and check, so his own anxiety filled in the blanks.

“They’re just lookin’ out for each other.” Calloway said, as though he were explaining the behaviours of wild animals and not people. “That’s all we got in this world. Each other. The giants are dangerous, everybody knows that. Some people don’t take it seriously, and that’s how entire towns get snatched.”

“Sure, we only have each other until you wind up in trouble and it’s your own damn fault.” Joe wanted to say.

Instead, he simply nodded as he seethed in front of the counter. If tinies and giants were practically the same species as Lorraine had insisted, why did the world do everything in its power to prevent them from relating to one another as equals?

“What if someone loved a giant? Or a giant loved a tiny? What if a giant wasn’t dangerous?”

As the questions poured out of Joe one by one he felt those eyes burn even hotter. It was the equivalent of handing the captain a knife and asking him not to stab him with it. Each question hid another question underneath: Are you on my side? Can I trust you? Will I really be safe around you?

Captain Calloway heaved a patronizing sigh in response.

“Some things in life just go against nature.” He said.

The unwitting captain had gone straight for the jugular.

“That’s how it is.” Calloway continued. “If something like that happened, of course people would be hostile to it. And if some mixed-size couple went and flaunted it around, well, serves ‘em right if someone loses an ear if you ask me. We gotta draw the line somewhere.”

A shiver started at the base of Joe’s neck and ran like icy fingers down his back, all the way to his tailbone. Harry’s episode last week had sent all the tenderness bleeding out of him. Joe knew Harry now. He trusted him implicitly after seeing him in such a fragile state, but he still lived in a world where certain things were sacred and certain things were profane, so Calloway’s words pulled him down like lead weights. He did not want a tin can with his name on it. He did not want to associate with other tinies at all. Now the most he could do was get the advice he had come for and leave with the irreversible knowledge that his de-facto father was not someone he could fully trust.

“Right… yeah, you’re right about that.” Joe lied. “Just been thinking a lot lately. About love. That’s all.”

“Oh, have you?”

Once again the captain raised an eyebrow in that obnoxious way of his, though there was a hint of joy in Captain Calloway’s voice, one that put Joe at ease. His anxiety cooled at the sound of it and the eyes momentarily averted their gaze.

Joe braced himself as he uttered his next question.

“…how do you know when you’re in love, Captain?”

Rusty laughter was the captain’s answer, followed by,

“Kid, if you’re asking yourself that question you’re already screwed. The question is how screwed, and that’s up to you to find out.”

It wasn’t the answer Joe was hoping for. He wanted something more concrete than that, something reproducible, a litmus test or a meter or a gauge that could precisely diagnose how screwed he was. Though what Joe wanted even more than that was for the test to come up negative. That way he could sleep easy at night knowing whatever he felt for Harry was just a passing fancy.

Captain Calloway seemed to sense Joe’s unease when he folded his arms over the counter and added,

“…what I can say is this: lasting love is like a cockroach. Unsightly, invasive, a nuisance to everyone involved, and most importantly, impossible to kill no matter how hard anyone tries. You know you’re in love by being in love. That’s the only way.”

Those words offered little comfort to Joe, who was now wishing he could time travel back to March and do the last three months over again.

“Right. Thanks Cap’n.” He said.

Joe immediately reached into his pockets, but the captain stopped him.

“That advice is on me.” Calloway advised him.

And so, Joe left the bar thinking about Harry as he always did.

How screwed he was indeed.

-

“So what are you gonna do now that you got your arm back?” Asked Joe.

“With any luck I’ll fix my bike.” Said Harry, who was finally free of his sling.

Joe nodded as he stared into the blank canvas in front of him while Harry meandered about in the background. He had fashioned a makeshift easel out of the remains of a clothes pin and set it up on the far end of the dining room table. Harry had even gifted him a magnificent set of paints in colours and shades he had never heard of before, but in spite of that, Joe’s artistic journey wasn’t going well. The emptiness of the canvas threatened to swallow him whole.

Harry seemed to pick up on the problem as he leaned in to have a look.

“How’s it coming?” He asked.

“A painting will happen eventually… I hope.” Joe said.

In truth, he didn’t know if it would happen or not. Usually Joe would run into something that he found interesting enough to draw, start sketching and be on his merry way. The problem was that lately he had lost all passion for drawing. The marking at Tiny Town had weighed on him, as had his trip to the gallery and his growing estrangement from O'Grady. He was starting to hate himself for it, to feel as though he ought to be producing more than he was.

Surely, Joe reasoned, he was the only artist in the world who had this problem, so he didn’t say a word of it to Harry.

“Well if you need me I’ll be out front,” Harry said, and added a chipper, “good luck!”

It was Joe versus the page now. He thought back to Castle Hill, what a potentially interesting subject it would be given its colour and scale. For a single second he motioned to start sketching it, until he remembered he had only ever painted people and things, not places. His enthusiasm fizzled out before it had a chance to glow. For a moment Joe toyed with the idea of painting Harry, but he wondered at the thought whether or not he would he be telling on himself if he did so. That was the sort of thing a person in love did, and Joe Piccoli was not in love with Harry, he told himself. He simply wanted to love him. To live in a world where it was okay to love him. To lie in bed with him, and listen to his heartbeat, and have that be considered a normal thing that people were allowed to do.

Even if he was in love, he couldn’t flaunt it.

Even if he did love Harry, he couldn’t paint him.

He kept on gazing into that blank page, and the blank page gazed into him in accusatory fashion. The longer he sat there the more anger and sadness churned inside of him. He wasn’t thinking of Calloway now. He wasn’t even thinking about Harry. He was thinking of his father, and all the things they never got to do or say. For years art had been an invisible thread that stretched across the limits of space and time and bound him to an abstract concept that existed in place of a parent. To lose art was to lose that abstract concept, and a part of himself along with it.

When midday rolled around he couldn’t take it anymore. He threw the charcoal down in defeat and leapt from the table, making a beeline for the front door. Harry had graciously left it open for him, and when he traversed the porch and clambered up the vines to the railing, he was greeted with a scene that may as well have been from another dimension.

Harry was lying flat on his stomach, dressed in the blue jeans he usually wore whenever he wasn’t being a doctor. Laid out beside him was a series of strange silver tools, not unlike the surgical ones Harry had shown him once, though these tools were bigger and bulkier. He appeared to be using them to perform some esoteric operation on his two-wheeled death machine to make it run again the way Joe would repair a watch. His hands were coated in grease up to his forearms and the rest of him was coated in sweat. His shirt had been pulled off and thrown aside and Joe, red-blooded as he was and giddy as a schoolgirl, sat down on the railing to enjoy the view.

Mesmerized, Joe watched as Harry got up and twisted at the left handlebar, then kicked at something on the far side of the contraption to start it up. To Harry’s obvious delight the engine crackled and puttered to life. Once it was running he then adjusted a lever at the motorcycle’s right-hand side – the one that faced Joe – then kicked away the bar that had been holding up the rear wheel and rolled out. The giant rode slowly at first, then picked up speed as he ran a lap around the lot in a blur. So fast was the machine that, when it zipped past Joe on its return to the starting point, the gust of wind nearly blew him clean off his spot on the railing. He fell back, caught the vines, and clambered back up again, disgruntled yet nonetheless impressed.

How Joe envied Harry! He wished that art could be as practical as the fixing of a machine; maybe then he could find out what inside of him was so broken. He watched as Harry wiped his filthy hands on his shirt, put the filthy shirt back on, and put the motorcycle up on the stand again. With that the show was over. Joe was only somewhat disappointed that he didn’t get to see Harry bench the entire motorbike – by the looks of the giant he should be able to, he reasoned.

He whistled for Harry as he headed inside.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna ride that thing again!” He nagged as Harry lumbered closer.

“Joe, I’m not gonna stop riding that thing until I’m dead.” Harry replied.

He reached out his still-somewhat-filthy mitts to Joe, who immediately recoiled.

“No way, do not touch me, you’re not touching me!” Joe said over the sound of the giant’s sadistic laughter. He fled down the vines and scurried along the porch steps as Harry followed in his wake, remaining ever watchful of Harry’s greasy hands.

-

“You can’t draw anything? Not even a thumbnail sketch?”

Joe nervously chewed on his lunch after confessing his problems to Harry. The man knew how to fix a motorbike. Maybe he could fix Joe – that was the idea of it, anyways. The blank canvas sat across from him at the dining room table, judging him all the while.

“Nothing, Harry. I don’t know what it is. I don’t have any ideas, I can’t start anything, the stuff I do have in the works is all stuff I’m bored of. Every day I get up, and I think about what I’m gonna paint, but then I can’t sit down and do it.”

“Hmmmm.” Harry hummed through a bite of his tuna sandwich.

“I like the paints you bought me.” Joe added quickly, for fear the giant may think that was the cause of the problem. “I just can’t use ‘em. Not yet, anyways.”

Joe took another bite of his own tuna flake as he awaited Harry’s words of wisdom.

“So you think about painting all the time?” Asked Harry.

“Constantly.”

“Well no wonder you’re bored of it if it’s all you think about!” Harry said. “Maybe you need to relax a little. Let off some steam and don't even worry about it at all."

There were other things Joe was worrying about besides art, but he wasn’t about to let Harry know that. The giant had a point, after all. Harry continued.

“I got that bike fixed up. Why don’t we go somewhere else for a while? Look at some nature like that group of seven did.”

Joe raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nature? Aren’t you worried a hawk’s gonna get me or something?” He said.

“Can’t be worse than the snapping turtle.” Harry countered.

Joe rolled his eyes. There was no way the snapping turtle had actually happened!

“Well…” He looked over to the looming canvas, then up at Harry. “I guess there’s worse things I could be doing this afternoon.”

-

One dizzying motorcycle ride later, Joe was once again collecting himself by the side of a country road, this time next to the entrance to a forest trail. He was immediately thankful he had worn his borrowing gear when he saw how remote the area was. Harry, who had changed into cleaner farmer’s clothes, carefully walked the motorbike into the bushes and hid it.

“You sure it’ll be all right in there?”

Harry shrugged.

“I doubt anyone who tries to run this thing will live long enough to ride off with it.” He said.

The giant motioned to pick Joe up and, noting that Harry’s hands were clean, he accepted.

Now on Harry’s shoulder, the trail appeared deceptively simple at first. The trees were sparse enough and small enough that Joe was not immediately stricken with awe. It was only as Harry trekked deeper into the woods, stepping over fallen logs and sinkholes, that Joe began to feel as though he had been spirited away into an alien world. As the path wound around them, and the forest grew bigger and denser than any forest Joe had seen before, he was now greeted with a nature divorced of its implicit danger. A nature magnificent and beautiful and bigger than him. The treetops became so tightly knit that neither man could see the sun, though light streamed in and glimmered as it dappled the forest path below. The whisperings of running water grew louder as Harry climbed up a steep goat path and then down the other side. There was no sign of civilization in this area, only the earthy smell of wet wood and the song of birds above them.

Joe still did not like the group of seven, but he was beginning to understand what Harry meant when he said nature made the giants feel small.

Thicker the forest grew until they came to a stream that divided the woods in two. This obstacle would take Joe half a day to traverse, but Harry effortlessly crossed it and reached the other side of the muddy bank in three steps, and continued walking until the stream widened and spilled into a pond. It was covered in a thick film of algae, and curving into it on the far side of the bank was a large tree with slender branches that drooped down into the water, as though the tree itself were weeping.

“Look at that, Harry! A salix tree! You should take some bark from it.” Joe said.

Harry stopped as they neared the base of the tree.

“You mean the weeping willow?” He asked, utterly baffled.

“I have no idea what that is.” Joe replied. “This tree here, though, if you boil the bark it works as a painkiller. I learned it at Usine.”

Joe watched as Harry took out a pocket knife. Then another thought came to him, and he tugged frantically at Harry’s earlobe to stop him from making the cut.

“Wait a sec, I forgot – you have to leave something first.” He said.

“Leave something?” Harry repeated.

“Yeah. Some food or a coin or… something. It’s bad luck if you don’t do that.”

“Isn’t that just superstition?”

“Yeah, but if you don’t do it every wild tiny in the world will disown me, Harry.” Joe explained. “Just leave something, all right?”

Harry chuckled as he rifled through his pockets and left a penny at the base of the tree. Then he carved a decently sized chunk of willow bark from the trunk, enough to tide Joe over for the next ten years at least.

“How’s this?” Asked Harry. “…Joe? Where’d you go?”

Joe had leapt from Harry’s shoulder into the bank of the pond, though he immediately regretted his decision now that he was knee deep in mud. Halfway across the water, a pair of bulbous eyes poked out from the algae. Joe turned around, spotted them, and raced back to where Harry stood. A frog was no snapper, and it was rare for them to snack on miniatures, but that didn’t change the fact that Joe could easily fit into this one’s mouth.

Harry knelt down next to him.

“Bet I could catch one.” He said.

Joe’s stomach sank.

“Catch one? Harry, what does that mean?” Joe said, even though he knew damn well what it meant.

“Hold on.”

Harry’s voice bubbled with excitement and all decency seemed to leave him. Out of respect for Harry’s morals, Joe covered his eyes as the giant once again removed his shirt, and his jeans, and his undergarments, and his socks and shoes for good measure.

"Harry, what does that... mean?"

Joe's voice was cut off by the sound of Harry diving into the pond. He waited in titillated suspense as the naked giant did god-knows-what beneath the water until finally his upper half emerged coated in pond scum, but victorious. Harry waded over to the edge of the pond clutching a frog triumphantly and beaming from ear to ear.

“That’s disgusting, Harry.” Joe said.

Joe uncovered his eyes and peered at the frog through his fingertips as it studied him, its throat ballooning in and out. His face contorted in displeasure at the sight of its slimy skin glistening in the afternoon sunlight, and he drew back as Harry brought it closer and closer to where he stood. Harry had thoughtfully pinched the frog’s mouth shut with his fingers, but Joe wasn’t about to trust it.

“Keep that thing away from me!” He exclaimed.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of-”

Harry didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before he reflexively threw the frog back into the water and scrambled onto the bank, drenching Joe in the process as he splashed about.

“Harry, what the hell!?” Joe shouted.

The giant stood naked and afraid on the river bank for a moment until he remembered where his clothes were and haphazardly began to throw them back on.

“Something brushed up against my leg.” He said as he forced his muddy foot through his pant leg. “Something big.”

“Guess I’m not the one who’s afraid, huh?” Joe laughed.

He strolled around the riverbank as Harry fumbled with his clothes and came to a hollowed out stump on the edge of the thicket that bordered the pond. It was surrounded by toadstools, and as he stepped inside of it, he found to his surprise that the stump was fully furnished. There was a counter on the inside with an assortment of tools, a sleeping bag on the floor, mouse pelts hung on the walls, and even the remains of a fire in the center of the room. Looking upwards Joe could see that the tapered shape of the stump served as a chimney.

A bad feeling came over him.

“Hey, Harry? We should get moving. I think someone lives here.”

“What? Let me see.”

Harry, fully dressed and a little less slimy, tramped through the mud until he reached the solid earth by the stump.

“See? In here. There’s a tiny living in here. We should probably leave, just outta respect. Don’t wanna go scaring people.” Joe said.

“I see… I didn’t know miniatures lived out in the wilderness.” Said Harry.

“Yeah, some of us do. It depends on the tiny. Some of ‘em are wild tinies. Some of ‘em are—something else. They don’t like to be called wild tinies.” Joe did his best to explain what little he knew of outdoor tinies that weren’t giardino like his father. “I hear about ‘em at Calloway’s and run into some once in a blue moon. Tinies live everywhere just like you do, Harry.”

“I don’t think we giants live in the woods. Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It can be, but they do it anyways. That’s just how they like to live.”

Joe waited patiently as Harry peered into the stump in wonder. Smiling, he pointed out a set of tiny footprints that weren’t his, then motioned for Harry to pick him up.

“Just wipe your hands first.” Joe said, and Harry obeyed.

Joe tried not to track mud on Harry’s shoulder when he was sat there – not that Harry wasn’t filthy enough already.

“Here I was thinking the sunset spot was the most interesting thing about this place.” Harry said.

“What’s the sunset spot?”

Harry cut through another goat path that wound around the pond. Soon he was climbing up a steep hill.

“It’s just up this way.”

He took a stick and whacked away a spider web. The path grew narrower and narrower and steeper and steeper until it finally evened out again. As the trees became thinner, Joe was able to see that they were now hiking along a ridge that overlooked the pond. A fallen log lay in front of them, serving as a makeshift bridge between two points. Harry took Joe from his shoulder and clutched him in his hand as he carefully traversed it.

“We’re almost there.” He said to Joe.

A series of tree roots on the other side of the log mimicked an uneven set of stairs. Harry climbed up them on his last leg of the ridge, and there they were at the fabled sunset spot.

Joe was looking around and trying to discern what was so special about this place besides the view when his eyes fell on something most out of the ordinary.

There at the top of the ridge was a wooden bench that overlooked the pond, surrounded by forest growth. No city council had approved this fixture, for it was so far outside of city limits it was of no planning board’s concern. As the two drew near Joe could see from the roughness of the beams that the entire thing was lovingly handmade. In spite of its unevenness it was still a work of beauty, warmly stained and brightly lacquered, it welcomed all who approached it to stay a while and enjoy the view.

At the very top beam on the back of the bench a message was burnt into the wood.

She did her best for me, and I did the best I could for her. Best friends always. We fell in love with each other along the way. What more could you ask for in life?

When Harry stopped short, Joe could tell that the giant was just as enchanted by the sight of it as he was.

“Here’s the sunset spot. I found this thing on accident.” Harry said.

The giant slumped down onto the bench and sighed in relief after the long climb. Joe, meanwhile, was rendered speechless. This simple bench, this work of art lovingly handcrafted and gifted to the wilderness, had struck him to his very core the way no other artwork had before. The simplicity of it, the generosity of it, the fact that it existed in a place so hard to find yet served as a beacon of repose for the lucky few who did. He wondered who this couple was as he took in the beauty of the approaching sunset over the weeping willow. Surely this place must have been special to them. Perhaps he and Harry were sitting at the site of a first kiss, or a first date, or a proposal.

Was this what it meant to be in love? To labour away, hammering together heavy slats of wood in the middle of the wilderness just to have some tangible proof that the love had been there with you? The bench was humbly made, it rocked and creaked in places under Harry’s weight, yet there it stayed, imperfect yet impossible for the elements to kill.

A strange boldness came over Joe as the sky turned gold, and finally he asked Harry the question he had been trying not to ask for weeks.

“...hey, Harry? How do you know when you’re in love?”

Joe’s heart hammered in his chest as he awaited the giant’s answer. Asking it of him felt a step away from confessing a crime.

“When you’re afraid, I guess.” Harry answered.

“Afraid?”

Harry nodded.

“When I was in love with Georgie I was… afraid.” He said. “Things are different for us giants when it’s two men. People say it’s a sin against nature.”

“That’s what tinies say about me-uh, about mixed sized couples.” Joe replied.

“Mixed size couples?”

Joe scanned Harry’s voice for the slightest hint of disgust, but found it impossible to read.

“Yeah. Sometimes giants and tinies fall in love. There’s pet tinies out there who take it to the extreme. I mean, it’s rare, but… y’know.”

Now Joe was on the verge of a heart attack and regretted every waking moment of his life up until that exact minute. His brain went into overdrive, the gears turning so fast he could barely think in words, and once again he was left shaking. Tense. Afraid.

“They must be very brave to do that in a world like this.” Harry said.

“They are. Yeah… they are.” Joe stammered.

“Are you one of them?” Harry asked.

The gears between Joe’s ears came to a screeching halt. Though it was the middle of June and the sun was brightly burning, his blood still ran ice cold. He thought back to Calloway. To the sin he would be committing if he answered honestly. He wasn’t ready to confess such a thing, so instead he said,

“Would it matter if I was?”

He kept his eyes locked on the tree-line as he stared ahead and awaited Harry’s verdict.

“No.” Harry said. “You just uh…”

“…what?”

“When you were drunk a while back you called me a big, sexy giant.” Said the big, sexy giant.

The squeal Joe emitted began deep in his chest and flowed out of his mouth. It was a sound he had never made before, and would never make again. He clapped his hands over his mouth and then buried his face in them. For a moment he was as much angry as he was embarrassed. Harry had known the whole time, and now, only now, on a romantic bench before a beautiful sunset, did the man bother to tell him about it.

Harry wouldn’t last five minutes in one of Joe’s romance novels, he thought. He shouldn’t be a romantic lead at all!

“Harry, look, I say a lot of things when I’m drunk all right?” He mumbled through his fingers.

“Okay, I’m not trying to make any accusations.” Harry assured him. “If you’re not gonna get up in arms about Georgie, I won’t get up in arms about that. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Uh-huh…” Joe sighed.

Joe’s hands slid from his face and wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Although he was still afraid, when the adrenaline wore off, and when the sky lit up a beautiful red-orange, and when Harry’s thumb caressed the back of his head as affectionately as it always had, he began to feel a peace he had never known before.

“…thanks for bringing me out here.” Joe said when he could form coherent phrases again. “Really. This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”

The willow branches swayed and the treetops rustled as the whole forest seemed to breathe in the evening air. Meanwhile, Joe struggled to scrub the inscription from his mind. It was only then, as the haunting cry of a loon announced the coming of dusk, that Joe understood what it meant to be in love.

The bench creaked as Harry stood up from it.

“We should get going, unless you wanna spend a night in the woods.” Said Harry. “You thought of something to paint?”

Joe took one last look at the bench as Harry returned him to his shoulder.

“I have, but it’s gonna take a while.” He said.

Joe thought about the builder’s words for the rest of the night. Maybe whoever made that bench had simply done their best, and the love had filled in all the spaces between. Maybe Joe just had to do his best at painting, too. Maybe love, like art, was nothing more than a journey shared between people.

To fall in love with each other along the way. What more could you ask for in life?

[selastheblue]

My Borrowed Son | 23 | Terse Table Talk

Chapter Twenty-Three | Terse Table Talk

Kers heard the voices extinguish like a snuffed candle as soon as the call of, “hello?” left his lips. There was a slight shuffle of light souled shoes. A few hushed whispers Kers couldn’t make out but guessed it had something to do with protection and curiosity.

He decided to call out again.

This was one thing he hated about meeting new Borrowers – the apprehension and fear of whether they were kind or evil. Too many times his encounters ended up with the later rather than the former.

Images flashed in front of Kers’ eyes of memories long passed. It was quick, but just enough to set Kers on edge as he spoke up again.

“Hello? Listen, I don’t mean to intrude. My name is Kers. I just moved here with the human. If you don’t want me around, I’ll go somewhere else. You won’t even know I’m here. I just wanted to explore the walls and set up a good place to stay. From one Borrower to another, any help is appreciated.”

The words he spoke were words Kers heard his brothers say countless times when they moved around as kids. Just saying it made his throat constrict, but he would muddle through that later.

The silence that followed was deafening and thick with unease. It put the Borrower on edge to the point he reached for the pin on his side. The only hesitation came when a masculine voice, smooth and aged, answered.

“You alone?”

Kers breathed a relative sigh of relief, but he was far from being in the clear yet. It was a start though.

“Yes, I am,” he replied as he thought of Parker, a topic he decided was not good to bring up right at this moment.

Another pause.

Then, emerging from the corner, was who Kers assumed was the father. He had thick facial hair but a thinning hair line, both speckled with blond and silver hair. The Borrower had fierce eyes that absorbed the light coming from the light that was on the end of his walking stick. He had his staff light held out defensively and quickly evaluated Kers. Whatever this Borrower had seen in his life, he obviously was a quick reader when it came to character.

It took a few moments before he retracted his staff.

“New arrival, you say?” he asked gruffly. Kers nodded.

“Yeah. Haven’t even been here twenty minutes,” replied Kers.

“From where?”

“Electrical outlet in the living room. Don’t worry. I put it back.”

“And the human? Does she know about you?”

Kers had to think about the Borrower’s question for a moment. The truthful answer was yes and no, seeing that Amanda knew about Parker; but, that wasn’t the question.

“No, she doesn’t know about me. I’ve been around her for four years. I can share what I know. Patterns. Organization. Schedule,” offered Kers.

The Borrower’s eyes narrowed as he evaluated Kers’ offer. He actually reached up and stroked at his silver streaked beard as he considered the possibilities in front of him.

“In exchange for?” he asked after several more tense seconds.

“Nothing. Just one Borrower being friendly to another,” stated Kers. “Though if you have an idea of where would be good for me to set up camp to not be in your way or space, I’d appreciate it.”

The offer of nothing obviously raised the Borrower’s suspicions, but followed up with a suggestion of where to live seemed to, at the very least, amuse him. He nodded and, after a moment, extended his hand for Kers to shake, which he did gladly.

“Well, I think we can agree to those terms. I can tell a liar when I hear one, and that’s not you, but don’t try anything. Got it?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” agreed Kers. With a stiff nod, the Borrower stepped to the side and gave a little gesture for Kers to follow along. It took everything in him for Kers to keep from resting his hand on his stay pin sword and his thumbtack dagger as he followed the other Borrower. He also didn’t dare ask anything too personal. This guy seemed like the type to provide essential information when the time was right.

They rounded the corner and Kers instantly spotted three other Borrowers in varying ages. The oldest was obviously late teens and shared many features with his father including those light absorbing eyes and blonde hair. The middle child was a girl who looked, to Kers, to be just a little younger or about the same age as Parker. She had dark brown hair and the same coal black eyes as her older brother. Then there was the youngest boy among them, a dark haired blue-eyed boy who was maybe eight or nine years old.

“Kids, this is Kers. My oldest, Finnick, my daughter, Sprokit, and my youngest son, Reed,” introduced the Borrower. “I’m Toulouse.”

“Nice to meet all of you,” Kers said. His insides churned nervously as he glanced at the piercing eyes of Toulouse’s children. All of them seemed to have the same ability their father had in seeing straight through someone. Perhaps it was just the color of the two eldest children’s eyes, but Kers felt like the secret of Parker would not remain so for long.

“Well, our plan was to go out and show Reed the ropes of running outside the walls, but gathering intel on this new human might be better,” pointed out Finnick, whose hand was also resting on what looked like a razor blade dagger at his hip.

“My thoughts exactly,” replied Toulouse. Reed was obviously crushed. His shoulders slumped and his features fell, but he didn’t say anything in objection. Kers didn’t know if it was because Reed wanted to behave himself and be rewarded with time outside of the walls or if he was a bit shy around strangers.

Whatever the case, Finnick gestured for Kers to follow, and so he did.

The five of them trekked through the walls, Reed stomping up the stairs from time to time to demonstrate his frustration in getting his wall trip cut short, while Toulouse followed behind. Kers almost felt like he was surrounded and being escorted to some kind of holding facility like how they did in the movies.

Kers had that privilege of watching a few movies from front to finish without Amanda and Parker noticing, and this felt like one of those movie scenes.

Up the walls. Across beams. Down some wires and then back up again.

Eventually, they made it to a section of wall that was very clearly part of the attic crawl space. It was a spot that was either segmented off from the main house or in a space that could never be reached by the residents of the house. Whatever the case, the house was made of sturdy cardboard and wood.

The windows were aglow with warm light, most likely from more fairy lights, and there was a smell of something in the air coming from the kitchen. Inside, Kers could hear someone singing softly along with coos and young giggles.

“Don’t forget to take off your shoes when you go in. Mom hates dirt in the house,” said the girl.

“Oh, right. Thanks. Sprokit, was it?” asked Kers. The girl huffed slightly as she pried off her borrowing boots and began unstrapping her gear.

“I go by Kit, actually. Dad just prefers full names for introductions,” replied Kit.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I’ll remember that,” apologized Kers.

“Don’t be rude, sis,” mumbled Reed.

“You mind your business,” Kit shot back.

One look from their father silenced their bickering as they retreated into the house. Kers noticed that none of them removed their various blades and pins as they went into the house.

Smart. They don’t trust me and are staying safe. Guess I’ll do the same.

Kers removed his shoes and walked further into the house as he heard who he presumed was the mother and wife to Toulouse address the kids. Her voice was as sweet as her singing.

“Hey there. Back so soon? Did something happen? Or did you all find what you were looking for that quick?” she asked.

“We have a guest,” Kers heard Kit say. There was a distinct inhalation before the conversation continued.

“Ah. I see. Well… I guess I need to set another bowl on the table,” she replied.

Kers glanced around the living area and caught a glimpse of the kitchen.

The place was pristine. The crochet blankets were neatly piled in the corner of the room. There was a table made of what looked like glued together playing cards and shelves made of popsicle sticks. It made where Kers used to live look like a hovel.

Still, they probably never had to move in their lives. Or, at least, they haven’t had the need to move in a while.

Lucky.

“Hi!” Kers snapped too when he felt a tug at his hip from another little Borrower child. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that stretched as wide as a jumbo rubber band. “Hi!” She must’ve been four or five years old by Kers’ estimates.

Stunned, Kers could barely manage his own, “Hello,” before spotting the baby girl’s mother. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes that were pale like glacier ice. She was wearing a skirt that fell just below her knees and an apron of sorts with various tools and threads spilling off of it.

What really caught Kers’ eyes, however, was what he noticed when she walked over to snag the Borrower child. She walked with a severe limp and the leg that poked out from under the skirt wasn’t real. It was fake.

A prosthetic – and it looked well made.

“Dove! So sorry about that,” she smiled. Kers shook his head and smiled as he looked into the woman’s features. There was so much life in her eyes, like she couldn’t be deterred from anything she set her mind to.

“No. Don’t worry about it. No harm or anything,” said Kers. “I’m Kers. Just moved in when I met the rest of your family.”

“Barely arrived,” said Toulouse as he entered the kitchen and leaned over to kiss his wife and take the baby, Dove, from her arms. “His pack is by the door.”

“Wow! So, you must’ve arrived with the new human. Yeah? The other family was here yesterday moving things around and then they were gone. Now we have a new human.

“I didn’t think humans could move so quickly. Then again, they have all of those tools and everything. Good for us. There won’t be any gap in borrowing,” she smiled. A thought must’ve dawned on her because she immediately wiped her hands on her apron and held out her hand for Kers. “Sorry. I’m Mira.”

“Nice to meet you.” The two of them shook hands before her husband cleared his throat.

“What do you need to finish lunch?” asked Toulouse. Mira gestured to the table and the stove, which looked like part of a heating element that was hooked up to electricity.

“Just your bums in the chairs and the pot on the table. I hope you don’t mind potato soup. I thought we were going to have to start rationing, so I went ahead and made a big batch to start storing,” Mira replied. “Here. I’ll get-”

“I’ve got it, mom,” said Finnick as he hoisted the pot off of the stove and set it onto the table, making sure to put it on the cloth fragment to keep from burning the table. Mira smiled and nodded as she maneuvered the youngest from one hip to the next with the smallest wince before carrying her over to the table, the rhythm of her walk showing she had experience walking with a child on her hip.

Before he knew it, Kers was sitting down at the table across from the oldest boy and beside the youngest with Toulouse immediately to his left. There was a warm bowl of soup in front of him and conversation all around.

Never before had he experienced anything like this.

A lump formed somewhere in his throat. More images flashed in front of his mind of days gone by.

Had he really been alone for so long?

“So, Kers,” said Mira as she wiped up her daughter’s face once again. “Tell us a bit about your travels. Have you always lived around this new human downstairs? Or was this a recent development?”

Just as if someone had snapped their fingers, Kers was out of his trance and in the moment once again.

“Um… I… well… I mostly moved around except for the past four years, which is when I started living in Amanda’s building. That’s the name of the human woman downstairs,” said Kers. “As for my travels… well… there’s nothing really to tell. Lived as an Outie for most of it, but lived as an Innie when I could.”

“An Outie? You mean you lived outside in the elements with the wild animals and everything?” asked the youngest, Reed. His eyes were bright with curiosity and also filled with the innocence of never being truly afraid in his life. Kers didn’t want to scare the kid but nodded simply to be polite.

Already, this was more words than he would say in a year, and he was feeling burned out from conversation. Still, he endured the further onslaught as all of the children as well as their parents asked question after question.

How long had he lived on his own?

What were his skills?

Would he be interested in helping ward off some animals trying to get into the baseboards?

Where was he thinking about setting up?

What kind of things did he need to get started?

What really started to make Kers nervous was when they began to ask about the human and her habits.

He told them everything. He told them she worked from home a lot but slept soundly through the night and generally kept to herself when she was home. The Borrower went into all of the details he could when it came to how she liked to put things into drawers and the things she would notice going missing.

“This is really good, dad,” Finnick said as he helped clear away the dishes. “We’ll be able to get everything timed to the second. It’s even better because she doesn’t have any kids.”

Kers felt his insides twist, making acid build in the back of his throat. It was like walking on pins and needles. Kers knew he needed to discuss this as soon as possible, but it didn’t stop the impending dread. Before things went any further, Kers decided to speak up.

With no real plan of attack, he took a breath and dared to begin the impossible conversation.

“Actually… she does have a kid.”

The family glanced around at him curiously before continuing their dinner clean-up.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” muttered Toulouse. “Thought we’d get a break after the last family left. No matter. We’ll be no worse for wear. We’ll just…”

“Actually,” interrupted Kers. “There’s… something about the kid that… is going to be a bit hard for you to hear.”

The room quieted as all eyes fell on Kers. It made him feel like bugs were crawling all over his skin. He hated attention, even as a child, and this was his ultimate nightmare. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he continued.

“The kid’s name is Parker. He’s a really sweet kid, but he’s a little different; especially from Amanda.” This was it. The moment of truth. “Because he’s a Borrower.”

It felt like someone set electricity into the air, charging it and making everyone’s hair stand on end. Everyone’s eyes widened to the size of human dinner plates. Expressions varied from confusion to disturbed horror and anger. It was a scene of complete and utter mortification, and Kers knew the bombardment from earlier would be nothing compared to what was in store for him.

Toulouse was on his feet in the blink of an eye as the kids retreated several steps away from the table.

“What do you mean? She… captured him?” asked Mira. Kers shook his head and took a visible breath in hopes it would deescalate the situation.

“No, I don’t think so. I honestly think that she found him and has been taking care of him for all of his life,” replied Kers. “I want to tell y-”

“You mean to tell me a human has been keeping a Borrower hostage and you’ve just watched for four years?” growled Toulouse.

“Dad… do you think he’s her pet too?” hissed Finnick as his hand now rested obviously on his hip dagger, ready to draw in an instant. The afternoon had turned from a pleasant one to one of utter chaos in a matter of seconds.

This was bad.

Kers knew he had to rise to his own defense and provide some kind of explanation. He cursed himself for not being as eloquent as his eldest brother. He continued to sit and shook his head as he said, “I’m no pet, boy. You would do well to remember that. And I can tell you I’ve wrestled with this from the first day I found them together. I’ll tell you if you’re willing to hear me out.”

The family exchanged wary glances, so Kers continued in a rapid word vomit that put teenage gossipers to shame.  

“I was moving in the middle of winter from the home I was previously in. I thought I might’ve been seen and kept to the Borrower code of staying on the move. I saw them playing in the snow outside and began planning a rescue mission immediately.

“When I made it to their home, I saw them sitting together watching a movie just like any other parent and child I had seen in previous homes. She made sure he had food and they even read together that night. I had no supplies and no way to take care of him, and Parker didn’t seem like he was in any danger.

“I decided to get enough supplies to survive and then I would rescue him, but the more I watched the more I realized this kid had no idea that he was a Borrower and was happy living with his adopted mother. I’ve been watching ever since to make sure he was alright, keeping to the shadows and being ready if anything should happen.”

Kers realized how difficult it must be to hear and understand everything he was saying. He wasn’t even sure half of his words made sense. It wasn’t until he paused to take a breath that his brain registered the changing expressions on everyone’s faces.

“So… you don’t think… he knows he’s a Borrower?” asked Mira. “You don’t think that this human took him from his parents, do you?”

“No, I… I don’t think so. I hope not. She doesn’t seem like the type to…”

“To what?” interjected Finnick. “Abduct Borrower children? Keep them like pets? Pampering and feeding and taking them out for walks?”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Kit spat as she boldly pulled her blade from her side. Both parents shot their daughter a warning glance before turning back to Kers.

“Well?”

“I didn’t have to tell you any of this, but I did,” concluded Kers. “I’m telling you because I have a plan in place to talk to the kid and to Amanda.”

“You plan on telling the human about us!” roared Finnick, also drawing his blade. Kers’ heart was in his throat. He knew this wasn’t going to go well no matter what he did, and now he had disturbed this family’s peace. Guilt ridden, Kers shook his head and let his shoulders slump.

“No, I’m not; and Amanda already knows, she just doesn’t know much. All she understands is that there was a small boy no bigger than his fingers that needed her help and she gave it. She doesn’t know about Borrowers; and, if she did, Parker might’ve gone venturing into the walls to find more Borrowers – to find me. He would be asking questions,” insisted Kers.

“So, you do plan on talking to the human?” asked Mira. Kers bit his lip and nodded mechanically.

“Trust me. I’m not looking forward to it, but it needs to be done. The only one she’s going to know about is me, and it’s only for Parker’s benefit,” insisted Kers. “I swear I will not tell Amanda about any of you or your family. The only one at risk here is me.”

No one in the family looked reassured.

“What if we don’t believe you?” asked Toulouse. Kers sighed and shook his head.

“I’m not asking you to. What I am asking for is time. I plan on talking to Amanda once they’ve moved in,” said Kers. “I swear I will keep your family safe. If I had known there were going to be others living here, I would’ve talked to them long ago. That was my mistake.”

Toulouse looked to Kers and then to the rest of his family. With a wary eye and a threatening stare, Toulouse gestured to the door. It made Kers’ heart sink into his shoes.

“I think you’d better leave; and I swear if you put my family in danger, you will live to regret it.” The oath of a father’s protection was a strong one, and Kers knew it.

“I won’t put any of you in danger, you have my word. I’ll keep to the floorboards beneath the kitchen if that’s alright,” said Kers.

“It is fine,” said Toulouse.

Kers knew the time for words was gone. He stood and carefully walked back toward the door, snagging his belongings on his way out.

It was far from how he wanted his first introduction to go, but it was necessary he talk to them about this right off the bat. Kers couldn’t imagine what their reaction would have been if they found Parker all on their own.

Defeat was only one of many words expressing Kers’ emotions as he hoisted his bag onto his shoulders once more and headed out of the front door. If there was more evidence needed for him to have an honest conversation with Amanda, now would be the time. Heart heavy, he headed for the space beneath the kitchen to set down his things and, hopefully, find the words he needed to use to talk to Amanda.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Meanwhile, in the home, the Borrower family was a flurry of emotions. None of them knew whether Kers was being truthful or if they were in danger. Immediately, their father ordered them to prepare a few go bags with essentials.

While they knew running here and now would be the best option for them, they also were reluctant to leave their home so readily when Kers could have been telling the truth.

They would be ready.

They were prepared.

Nothing was going to happen; at least they hoped.

Kit, however, was very vocal about her thoughts on the matter.

“Dad, we can’t just leave him! He’s one of us! He’s a Borrower, and he’s been taken. We need to rescue him!” insisted the teen.

“Kit, we can’t risk going down there now. If Kers has a trap planned with the human and it involves that boy, we need to stay as far away from both of them as possible.” Toulouse sighed and leaned heavily against the char at the kitchen table. “I was such a fool to invite in a stranger so quickly.”

Mira stepped up beside her husband and rubbed his back with sympathetic affection.

“You didn’t know, love,” she said.

“Mom! We can’t just leave him,” argued Kit.

“We have to wait and see what’s going to happen. I know it’s hard, but we can’t go down there without a plan,” Mira said. Frustrated, Kit stormed off to her room. Finnick and Reed, who were nearby, looked at their parents anxiously.

“So, we’re just going to leave him? If we need to run?” asked Finnick. Both parent shook their head.

“No, we won’t leave him if it can be helped. We just need time to figure this thing out first. We can’t act rashly. We need to find out if Kers is telling the truth and whether this boy is in danger or not,” replied Toulouse.

Silently, he hoped his certainty came of as confidence despite how he actually felt. Both Borrower parents couldn’t imagine having any of their children taken by a human. They also couldn’t imagine what it was like for Parker growing up with a human, if that was what really had happened.

In all reality, they were unsure of whether they could help the Borrower boy Kers spoke of and doubted they would be able to stay in their home in the days to come.

Still, they held out hope.

And little did they know that their plans weren’t the only ones in affect.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

Beginning

[selastheblue]

helping a big ol lizard guy with his wounds~ 🩹

this is ambrose!! still writing him but hes a woodland hunter-scout type character- very soft & attentive <3 he thinks daisy is very cute also which is why he's embarrassed ehehe >:3c

[selastheblue]

Sterling Household-Sick Giant

"I'm going to help Sterling." Cassia declared at the table in their tiny kitchen, hidden within the walls of the human’s home.

Milton jerked back in surprise, choking on his tea. “Wh…what do you mean?”

“He’s been sick for the past day. Throwing up and bedridden. I think it would be good for us to help somehow.” Cassia explained. “He already knows about us and has saved Emma and our kids. I think this would be good for our relations.”

“Relations?! There are no relations with a human!” Milton looked shocked and confused.

“It can’t be helped. We have relations with him now. We either make them good, or we move. What if he gets annoyed with us? Hmmm?” Cassia challenged her husband.

Milton sighed. Cassia grinned, knowing she had won.

“See? Relations can’t be helped now. We might as well take advantage of a tame bean.”

“What do we suggest we do?” Milton asked.

***** “This is insane!” Emma grumbled as she helped Cassia gather supplies- a thimble for carrying water, thread for rope, an upturned metal cap for a pot, and other gear that would be useful for their task.

“Well, we don’t want to seem ungrateful; he did help you, after all.” Cassia pointed out.

“I know, I know. But I don’t have to like it.”

“Did you get what I asked for?” Cassia asked her friend.

“Of course! It was easy, I’m a pro at fishing, I know all the best spots.” Emma said with pride. She pulled off her backpack and opened it showing three big fish. Or big fish compared to the borrowers, to a human the fish would be more like small guppies.

“Perfect! Milton’s gonna use those to lure Whiskers out of the way!”

Cassia took a deep breath and stepped out from the walls, exposed on the giant's countertop.

Milton stood at the bottom with their children. He threw a grappling hook to the counter, which Cassia helped latch. Then, they worked together to get their children to climb up. Next, Cassia lowered the fish down.

“Why can’t I stay with Papa? I can help!” Agnes protested with a pout.

“You stay with your mother; I don’t want you near his cat! It’s better if I do this alone. Now you be good for her. She’ll need all the help she can get for this,” Milton shouted up to his family and disgruntled daughter.

Cassia shot her husband a grateful smile. "It'll be alright, dear. We'll look out for each other," she said gently. “Now, you be careful!”

Milton nodded. Leaving to find the giant feline.

"Here, kitty-kitty..." Milton called in a sing-song voice, watching Whiskers' ears perk up from her dozing spot by the hearth. With a flick of her tail, she rose, her movements graceful and silent—a stark contrast to the frantic beating of Milton's heart. Milton had tied the fish together to a string. He broke out in a run, pulling the treat with him.

Leading her through the open back door, Milton danced just beyond her reach, the string pulling a fat, yummy fish, enticing the cat. Whiskers pounced, playful yet deadly. He darted left, then right, his small size an advantage in the game of cat and mouse they played. He spun around as Whiskers took hold of the fish. Whiskers started purring up a storm as she ate the treat. Giving Milton time to move around her and push the door closed, using all his might.

On top of the counter, the borrowers paused to catch their breath, the vast kitchen spreading out before them. Cassia took charge, pointing out the locations of knives, cutting boards, and ingredients.

"We'll need to work together to manage these giant tools," she said. Emma and her children voiced their agreement.

They slowly dragged the knife across the counter to a potato, then worked in unison to slice off chunks of the hearty vegetable. Their tiny arms strained from the effort.

Emma and Cassia worked together to push one of the pots still on the stovetop onto the burner. They then turned on the stove and filled the pot with water, using their buckets. This took a long time, and they only managed to fill it about ¼ of the way.

Soon, aromatic steam rose from their pot as the broth simmered. Cassia gave an approving nod, heart swelling with pride for her family and friends. By working together, they could achieve the impossible.

Emma turned off the giant stove, the dial clicking loudly in the silence of the kitchen. The rich scent of herbs permeated the air as the borrowers peered into the steaming pot.

"It's ready," Emma declared. "Let's fill up our containers and get this to Sterling."

The group worked efficiently, ladling the fragrant broth into thimble-sized buckets. The tiny containers looked almost comical next to the giant pot, but the borrowers knew every drop could aid in Sterling's recovery. Or, at the very least, Sterling would be flattered they went to all this work for him.

The borrowers entered Sterling's room. The giant bed loomed before them, its great expanse of fabric forming rolling hills and valleys from their minuscule perspective.

Cassia secured her rope and began scaling the bedspread, gripping the fibers like climbing holds. Emma followed close behind until they reached the summit.

Carefully, Cassia slid the bucket off her back and gazed at Sterling. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, face flushed with fever. She felt a pang of sympathy for the ailing man.

Cassia looked over the edge of the bed; she sighed in relief to see that her husband Milton had returned. Cassia tugged on the rope, helping Milton haul up the soaked cloth they had prepared. Though thin as gauze to Sterling, it took all their strength to shift the giant fabric.

Soon, the other borrowers joined them on the bed. Together, they took up positions around the cloth and heaved, maneuvering it towards Sterling's head. Their tiny hands strained against the weight, muscles burning with effort.

Finally, they aligned the cloth over Sterling's forehead. The man sighed, his body relaxing subtly as the cool fabric soothed him. The borrowers released their grip, allowing themselves a moment of rest before moving to administer the broth.

Cassia took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she approached Sterling's head, a thimble of broth in hand. She was struck by how vulnerable the human looked in repose, his usually lively features now slackened by fever. Gingerly, she climbed onto his pillow, boots denting the fabric. At this proximity, she was dwarfed by his enormous size, barely the length of his ear. Still, she felt no malice from the gentle man.

Joining Cassia, the other borrowers followed suit, tiny feet padding over Sterling's blanketed form. Their movements were cautious but purposeful as they positioned themselves around the giant's head.

Lila bounced excitedly.

Pippin looked nervous but determined.

Finn was clinging onto his father’s back in a piggyback ride. He was too small to carry the thimbles by himself. But he was happy to watch from the safety of his papa’s back as they fed the giant.

Agnes stood by Emma with her own thimble. She shifted with nervousness. While Sterling had been gentle with her when he had caught her, she was still scared of his massive presence.

Emma nodded at Cassia, signaling they were ready. Cassia tipped the thimble to Sterling's parted lips with great care, letting the broth trickle in. His throat bobbed reflexively. They continued taking turns, administering the medicine thimble by tiny thimbleful.

Suddenly, Sterling stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. The borrowers froze as his gaze found them, crowded on his pillow. Confusion clouded his expression. Then, awareness lit his eyes.

Cassia met his look unflinchingly. To her surprise, his lips curved into a tired smile.

"Wha….What are you doing?" he rasped, voice hoarse and confused.

Sterling's deep voice rumbled around the tiny borrowers gathered on his pillow.

Cassia steadied herself, pushing down her instinctive fear. This was the first time she had revealed herself to a human, but her family owed him a debt for protecting her children.

"We made you broth with medicine and herbs, so you're welcome," she said, her voice clear and strong. "I'm Cassia. My family and I want to help you get well."

Sterling's gaze shifted to her. Though she barely reached the height of his chin, the look in his eyes was one of respect.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cassia," he replied. "I wish I wasn’t sick to meet you. You didn’t have to do this; I don’t want you guys to get sick.”

"You've kept my children from harm. I wanted to say Thank you." She smiled up at him. "Now rest. You need your strength back."

Sterling's eyes crinkled happily. He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to drink in the tiny people gathered around him. He tried not to shift too much, noticing how his movements caused the little people to stumble on his pillow to catch their balance. His eyes were alight with awe and affection. He found it cute to see them with their tiny thimbles, trying to nurse him back to health. He ponders on how this must have taken so much of their time. Sterling’s heart fills with a warm feeling at the thought.

Sterling froze when a tiny hand patted him on his cheek. He shifted his gaze and landed on the tiny woman, Cassia. She smiled at him. He could only really see her from the corner of his eye. “You need to rest; we can talk more when you’re better.” Sterling was fixated on the feel of such a tiny, delicate hand resting on his cheekbone. Each finger was so tiny. He could hardly see them, and certainly not at this angle, but he could feel the tiny twitches of the tiny hand.

Sterling’s smile softened, his features relaxing into lines of gentle amusement. "I'm glad you feel safe enough to speak to me." With that, Sterling closed his eyes and let sleep take him. 

[selastheblue]

[Inspired by a scene from Chapter 28 of The Art of Love and War, by the talented @fireflywritesgt. 💖]

[selastheblue]

Happy Birthday, Georgie Marshall

Part 28 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here. A character deals with grief and has an emotional flashback in this chapter.

Two universes also stretched out before Harry Avery that night. There was the universe where he shyly told Joe about the quiet love he harboured for his now dead childhood friend, a love forbidden and unmentionable in the land of the giants. It was a universe where the weight of his guilt would gently be lifted from him, one where each man would grow closer by seeing himself reflected in the other. In this universe, Georgie’s upcoming birthday would be a sad but bearable day.

That was not the universe Harry chose to live in. He considered it with painstaking depth as Joe trembled in his hand. Oh, he could do it; he could confess to Joe the one secret he swore he would take to the grave after Georgie. But as he sat and thought, he realized there was one very important difference between him and Joe: Joe had nothing wrong with him, and Harry did. How odd it was for Joe to hate himself so much for enjoying the company of giants. With the way the world treated them, what self-respecting miniature wouldn’t want some form of protection? Joe’s desire to live in the Stinson House had harmed no one, and Harry’s love had harmed Georgie. For all he knew it could harm Joe too.

So as Joe silently wept in his palm, Harry’s focus shifted towards lightening the mood instead.

“Joe, there’s only one thing that’s odd about you and it’s not that.” He said.

“Then what is it?”

Joe looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, and Harry couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he said what came next.

“I got a question for you: is Lorraine… tall for a miniature, or are you just…”

Joe puffed up with indignation faster than a blowfish.

“…am I what, Harry?”

“Are you… extra miniature?”

Those words were enough to get Joe to leap to his feet.

“Are you saying I’m short!?” He shouted up at Harry with curled fists.

Harry just smiled. His heart was all but melting with affection. Their time at professor Hill’s had been the first time he had seen Joe next to another miniature, and he simply couldn’t let his curiosity go.

“I’m not saying you’re short, I’m just saying she’s half a head taller than you… and giant women tend to be shorter than giant men so I just figured if you’re shorter than her…”

He watched Joe pace around in his palm. Joe grasped at his head as he did so, seemingly in search of hair to pull that was no longer there.

“I can’t believe this. I spill my guts out to you and you turn around and call me short.”

“Being short isn’t a bad thing! It’s… cute, actually.” Harry admitted.

Joe stopped suddenly and stared up at him with his hand on his chest. Harry couldn’t tell if the poor bastard was red with anger or embarrassment at this point. Either way, he was distracted, and Harry’s mission was accomplished.

“Never call me that again, Harry.” He ordered.

“What? Cute, or short?”

“Both.”

Joe, who was both cute and short, stood on his tiptoes as he jabbed a finger at Harry, and for the first time since meeting he was a smidgen taller than Harry’s thumb.

Joe was right. He wasn’t cute.

He was adorable.

-

Distance was how Harry's trauma manifested itself first and foremost. It was glass walls and mirror lakes, a discreet absence of emotion rather than the incontrovertible presence of it. Harry hid. He was a man half-made, steeped in rumination and self-blame, the sort of person who gingerly crept through life for fear that he might disturb the tender emotional core he so dutifully protected. It was a core that threatened to go critical, to collapse like a dying star and unleash incomprehensible terror in the process. This was not a part of himself he wanted Joe to see in any capacity. The war had been bigger than him. Fiercer than a hurricane, louder than thunder, a great, rolling force formed by man's collective folly. How on earth could Harry articulate it to someone as small as Joe?

It had been two days since the visit to professor Hill’s, though Harry didn’t need to look at the paper to know that. One byproduct of the trauma was the counting of days; his body remembered them differently than his mind did, and the creeping depression and lethargy that led up to particular dates were surer than clockwork. October was the worst month, but June was difficult too. For nearly every year of Harry’s young life, the third of the month had marked Georgie’s birthday, until Harry had turned twenty and Georgie had no more birthdays.

The mud made the day even worse. It had been raining at night for the last four days, and the ground was perennially damp in the morning. There were times when the mere sight of mud against a slate-grey sky was enough to take him back across the ocean.

“Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness” was what Georgie’s book had recommended to him, and Harry decided he would do just that - he would be very subtle, and very normal, for Joe’s sake as well as his. He was focusing so hard on being normal that Joe’s voice from the half-open door caused him to jump.

“Are you all right out there Harry? You’ve been out there for a while.”

Only now did Harry realize that his cigarette had burnt to a nub in his fingers. He tossed it aside and turned to Joe with the calmest, least miserable smile he could muster.

“Just getting the paper.” He assured him.

He grabbed that day’s copy of the Star and followed Joe inside with it. Setting it down on the dining room table, he scooped Joe up and put him on top of it.

“What’s that story there? On the back?” The miniature asked of it.

Curious, Harry flipped the page over and read from the headline.

“Canadian-born tiny tapper embroiled in cross-country court case…”

“What’s that mean?”

“Hmm. Looks like a miniature dancer is getting sued by Hollywood because he failed to follow through on a contract.” Harry explained. “However, in order for the contract to hold water, the judge will have to rule that the miniature has legal personhood, which under American law he doesn’t, and under Canada’s common law he… dubiously does.”

Joe looked at him in disbelief.

“So he either performs the contract and gets ruled a person, or he gets outta the contract and isn’t a person…?”

“Oh, it gets better. Even if he does get ruled a person under Canadian law, he’s maintaining the defence that since the contract was signed for work in America, where he is not a legal person, the contract is still invalid and he’s under no obligation to carry it out. I think he has Hollywood backed into a corner here.”

“Bet he only signed that thing to humour them.” Joe said. “He probably knew he could get out of it. Whoever drafted that thing was sloppy if you ask me.”

Harry studied the little man fondly. Joe was equal parts naïve and savvy, it seemed, but if protection was what he was after in seeking life among the giants, then protection was what Harry would give to him, up to and including protection from himself. After ten years of learning what worked and what didn’t, he would be able to cope with the day well enough, he reasoned.

The date, June 3, 1926, sat at the top corner of the paper like a portent of certain doom. What Harry did not realize as he glanced over it was how futile his quest for normalcy would soon become.

-

It was supposed to be a normal house call on the edge of the city, one he handled like all other house calls to date. To be a doctor, Harry had learned long ago, was synonymous with being a machine. For years he had reprogrammed his capacity for horror and leaned into what the war had left him with in the name of saving lives, so when Harry put on his suit and went out to play doctor, he saw himself less as a person and more as a thing that provided a vital function to those who needed it most.

This had left Harry on his worst days with the mistaken belief that he was, in fact, a machine, something truly invincible and not merely a human masquerading as such.

True to his programming, Harry had entered the house, greeted the family, and went to the couch in the living room to assess the patient. When he got there, a sharp-eyed boy with light hair and high cheekbones was lying with his eyes rolled up into his head and blood running from his temples.

Just like that, instead of being a doctor on a house call Harry was alone in a world abstracted, thrown off his axis like a satellite flung out of orbit. When all the horror that had been sleeping inside of him for the last ten years awakened and jammed his machinery, he both did and did not know what was happening. His conscious mind clawed and fought against the creeping dissociation, and he floated above himself as if his soul had been cleaved from his body. The part of himself he had been training for the last ten years with zero oversight or guidance to handle this trauma kicked in and told Harry's ghost what to do.

He had to call his mother.

The protestations of the family he was visiting melted into raw sound as he turned from the distressing scene. His distress rose when he couldn’t find a phone, and soon his runaway terror suffocated him and then spouted out of his mouth.

“A phone! Get me a phone, will you!?” He snapped at no one in particular.

He was pointed to a corner down the strange house and phased into the kitchen with no recollection of the hallway between the rooms. A brown box on the wall bled into Harry's field of vision, and he held onto the receiver like it was the last thing in the world he had left to hold onto.

He asked for the Avery Farm. A voice he could half understand said there was no Avery Farm, but there was an Avery residence, and that was good enough for Harry.

"Doctor Avery's office, this is Joe Piccoli speaking, how may I help you?" Said the little voice in the phone that Harry didn't fully recognize.

Georgie was still dead. That was all Harry was thinking about when he said,

"I killed him."

"Harry...? What are you talking about?" Said the man in the phone.

Harry did not know who Harry was. He couldn't even control his own mouth. He kept talking nevertheless.

"Georgie Marshall. I killed him. He’s dead and it’s my fault." Harry hissed into the receiver.

"Georgie? Your friend Georgie? Harry, I... I think you're having a bad day." The voice said. "Do you need to come home? I don’t think you should be doing doctor stuff today."

Harry had forgotten the fact that he was a doctor, and like the purging of a submarine’s ballast tank, the voice in the phone kept his head above water. Now he remembered whose voice it was, and how much he had come to trust that voice. Joe was right - though it was more than just a bad day. It was terror, and guilt, and death-rage, all of which were things Harry lacked the tools to put into words.

“…I don’t think I should be doing it either.” Was all Harry could articulate. “I don’t want to go back in there. I don’t want to see him like that. He looks so much like Georgie.”

Harry’s hand was ghostly white around the receiver.

“But he’s not Georgie, Harry. It’s the Carter residence, remember? Did they say what happened?” Joe said.

“...he fell out of a tree.” Harry remembered.

“So he probably just hit his head and passed out. He’s not dead. Just needs some first aid. Can you do that?”

Harry shifted uneasily.

“I can try.” He said.

“’cause I can call up one of your colleagues if you-”

“No! I’ll do it. I can do it.”

Harry could sense Joe’s skepticism from all the way across the phone line. He was feeling better now, more grounded in the present, to the point he could remember where he had left his bag and what inside it he would need to help the patient. He just needed to find the courage to face the grisly sight, all the courage he had not had during the war.

“Okay, Harry. I trust you. Call me if you have any more trouble all right?” Joe said.

“I will.” He promised.

Left on his own after hanging up the receiver, he felt the curious eyes of the family members on him as he re-entered the living room. It was as though Joe had brought his systems back online. He still had to fight with his own brain, but he could think more clearly now, and he held onto Joe’s words like a lifeline as he began to assess the patient.

The boy who was not Georgie was not dead, and under Harry’s care, he began to wake up.

-

If the trauma had not sunk its teeth into Harry, he would have returned to Joe grateful and relieved, thanked him profusely the moment he walked through the door and called it a day. That was not what the aftermath of an episode was like for Harry Avery. He barely thought of Joe as he stumbled through the hallway in a daze, for he was no different than a startled animal at this point. Rather than saying a single word, he trudged up the stairs and went straight to his room.

Georgie was still on the table, and Georgie was still dead. He set the picture frame face down on his way past it. Tired of being a machine, he escaped his sling and his suit the way Houdini would escape a strait jacket and sat there pathetically in his underclothes, staring ahead in a catatonic state. He could not bear to turn the light on. The dugout had taught him that darkness meant safety.

Time folded into itself, the way time does for those who have lost it. Sensing something was amiss, his unconscious stalled and then jumpstarted itself, and then came the rumination - the obsessive, half-formed thoughts, the memories of a vast grave of mud and corpses that doubled as a battlefield. He had crossed it, and there in his hand was the gun. Halfway he had fallen, and there in his hand was another hand, paper-white and swollen. He had pulled at it in the vain hope its owner might still be alive, and there in his hand was-

“Harry? What’s going on?”

…there in his hand was Joe Piccoli, covered head to toe in dust and sweat. The tickling sensation of the tiny man clambering into his palm led him back to the present once again. He remembered Joe, and his new name, and the date. He remembered what he had told himself that morning and took a moment to reflect on just how grievously he had failed.

“It’s Georgie’s birthday today.” He croaked, and into the painful silence he added, “I loved him, Joe.”

“I know you did. You wouldn’t be sad if you didn’t.” Joe studied him with a look that he couldn’t stand – one somewhere between concern and pity – then sighed and rubbed his face in exasperation. “If today was a bad day, you coulda told me, y’know? You didn’t have to go out today. You’ve been looking like a damn ghost ever since you woke up, you know that?”

Harry held Joe like a precious candle in the dark and ached with shame. He didn't feel good enough for him in some odd way. He didn't feel good enough to be loved by anyone, for any reason, and yet there was Joe Piccoli, who had climbed an entire storey through the dust bunnies in the walls just to see him. How disappointing it must be for Harry, the giant, to be acting the way he was. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go! He was supposed to be stronger than this, Joe was not supposed to see him like this, and the breaking of Harry’s mask seared worse than any mustard gas.

“I know I failed you.” He said, more to the ghosts of Georgie and his mother than to Joe. “I keep failing everyone, don’t I?”

Joe shook his head in bewilderment without taking his eyes off of him.

“You didn’t fail anyone. You didn’t kill anyone either, you…” Joe paused and hopped into his lap, then started climbing up his undershirt all the way to his shoulder. Still in a daze, Harry helped him along when he could process what was happening. “…you’re having a bad day.”

The haunted man nodded along to what Joe was saying.

There was an uneasy pause, then Joe added, “…I know about the war, Harry. I know you were in it. You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but you shouldn’t hide this shit from me.”

Harry was not built like Joe. He did not cry easily. Still, Joe’s words brought him the closest he had been to tears in years, and he half-listened as he concentrated on keeping them from falling.

“Just... try and go to sleep." Joe continued. "I called everyone coming in today and rescheduled the appointments. There's nothing left to do. Just go to sleep."

Harry, still beyond words, clutched his little friend to his still-beating heart and sank down into the bed. Whether physically or intellectually, he had always prided himself on his prowess, but now in the aftermath of this flashback he had neither. All he could do was lie there in desperation after the episode, exhausted as a wounded animal, as his head throbbed and his spirit kept trying to leave his body.

“You did good today.” Joe said.   

Even though Georgie was still dead Harry felt more alive at those words, and Joe curled up in his hand and was alive with him. The safety of Joe’s presence cut through the terror, and Harry accepted, albeit begrudgingly, that Joe had never needed protecting in the first place.

Sometimes, giant or not, it was the other way around.

-

Harry passed through dreamless sleep and waking nightmares as he always did this time of year, until finally he awoke to find the soap dish empty and Joe nowhere to be found. This was when a new terror struck him. Joe, he vaguely remembered, had been on his chest when he had fallen asleep, and Harry had since rolled all the way onto his front with his injured, un-slung arm at his side. He got up with a start in a panic, causing a twinge of pain to run through the healing arm as he did so. As he searched desperately for Joe, his skin prickled at the thought of finding the corpse of yet another friend on this day of all days.

He sat up and saw no sign of Joe. Tore the sheets off and shook them; still no Joe. Even removing the pillows revealed nothing, though nothing was still better than something, and Harry dragged himself to his feet and trudged downstairs without taking his eyes off the ground. He was concentrating so hard on not stepping on Joe that, when he got downstairs, it took him a moment before he was brave enough to look for where the tiny artist had gone. The sound of rustling leaves drew him to the kitchen, and when he reached its source the sight before him quickly replaced his sense of impending doom with fascination.

Somewhere beneath the pile of pink lilacs, purple phlox, and forget-me-nots, Joe was bustling about with a length of twine. Harry watched as one hand emerged from the budding bouquet, then another, until Joe wrapped the stems of the flowers together. Once they were tied, he clumsily hoisted them up, laid them out in front of himself to examine his handiwork, decided they were unsatisfactory, and began to re-tie them again. Harry’s voice stopped him.

“Joe…? What are you doing?”

Joe, who looked as though he had been caught stealing, slowly turned around to face Harry. His eyes shifted as he searched for an explanation.

“I was trying to surprise you, but now I gotta think of something else.” He finally said.

“No you don’t! This is very…” Harry trailed off as he reached out and delicately plucked the bouquet from Joe’s arms to examine it.

“Don’t say it.”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling at the tiny bouquet, and he also couldn’t keep himself from saying it.

“It’s cute. Dare I say adorable. …I’m sorry, Joe.”

Joe crossed his arms and sank down against the glass of the window, but he was smiling too now from ear to ear.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll put up with it coming from you.” He said.

The sweet scent of the flowers anchored Harry firmly in this less-than-stellar universe he had chosen. It was the universe where he had faced his trauma the lonely way, opened up the ugly way, and learned to trust Joe the hard way.

Yet, in spite of all the day’s hardship, there was no place Harry would rather be than that.

[selastheblue]

pepper & felix

part thirteen

:))))))) cw: excessive alcohol consumption word count: 4.1k

Pepper did not understand alcohol.

He was aware that humans drank it, but he was appalled as to why. In the last few years he had run into his fair share of humans that seemed to be overcome by the effects of alcohol, pink-faced and dizzy and loud, and he had always avoided them. Why would humans do this to themselves?

He and Basil had grown up in a bakery, surrounded by warmth and sugar, so Pepper hadn’t been exposed to alcohol until he moved out at the age of nineteen. After two weeks of traveling, he had found his first home– a small house occupied by a middle-aged human couple. It had been frightening to live somewhere entirely new, but it had turned out to be a comfortable home for him.

For two years, he had observed the human couple, and had been confused by their occasional consumption of alcohol. Once, after running across some leftover liquor in a glass, he had even tried a sip. His curiosity had left him choking and spluttering and absolutely revolted by the humans’ drink. His confusion had only increased.

After the humans had noticed their things going missing and had begun to set out mouse traps, Pepper had been forced to leave their house and search for a new home. He had made his way into an apartment complex around the time he turned twenty-one years old, and had built a new home within the walls of an introverted, blonde human, who Pepper pleasantly noticed very rarely drank alcohol.

Now, he stood on the arm of the human’s couch, staring up at said human in front of him. 

“I thought you didn’t like parties,” he pointed out, brow furrowing. 

Felix sighed, features soft. “I don’t, not really,” he admitted, leaning down to see Pepper better. “But I kind of have to go to this one.”

“Why?” Pepper asked incredulously.

“I dunno… it’s a cast party, so it would be a little rude for me not to show up, I guess. I already told everyone I would go.”

Pepper shook his head, astounded. He couldn’t imagine attending any kind of party, especially one he didn’t want to go to. As far as he knew, human parties consisted of large groups of humans getting together to be incredibly loud and take up space. It sounded awful.

“I’m only gonna go for a little bit,” Felix continued, gaze dancing over Pepper’s uneasy form. It was hard to tell why Pepper was so uncomfortable with this. 

To be honest, Pepper wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, either. Looking up at Felix, taking in the entirety of the human’s tall and imposing form, his stomach fluttered. Felix, surely, would be able to take care of himself in the presence of so many other humans. Pepper shouldn’t worry.

Pepper nodded slowly, crossing his arms. “Alright.”

“It’ll be okay,” Felix promised, straightening up. He wore a baggy graphic tee and blue jeans, reminding Pepper that this was a comfortable, casual event for the human. The borrower forced himself to take a deep breath and nodded again.

“Right,” he agreed unhappily. “I’ll see you later.”

However, as listened to the sound of the front door closing moments later, he couldn’t fight the feeling that something awful was bound to happen.

–

Forty people was a lot to fit into Ricky’s small apartment.

Felix weaved his way through the crowd in the kitchen, gaze searching, feeling incredibly out of place. Every so often someone would stop him to say hi, only to abandon the conversation a moment later, making Felix wonder how useless his social skills could be. Relief filled his chest when he spotted Breanna and Owen, chatting by the wall, and he gratefully walked over to them. “Hey.”

“Felix!” Breanna lit up instantly. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Felix checked his phone, sheepishly observing the fact that he was over an hour late. He had stalled by talking to Pepper for far too long. “Is Alice here?”

Owen took a sip of his drink, because unlike Felix and Breanna, he was happy to have a few drinks when they went to parties. “Yeah, somewhere.”

“What are you doing here?”

Owen grinned. “I like parties.”

Felix let out a breathy laugh. Despite the fact that Owen wasn’t in the cast, it was nice to see a familiar face. Owen had accompanied his three friends to so many theater events that he might as well be considered an honorary theater member at this point.

The next twenty minutes were bearable, as Felix lingered by the wall with his friends. Music filled the air, blasting from a speaker, so Felix was forced to lean in close to his friends to even hear them properly. 

When Alice approached them, Felix almost forgot the weird situation the two of them were currently in, more relieved to have another face he recognized as a friend. Her black hair had been pulled into a slicked-back ponytail, revealing the sharpness of her expression as she glanced over Felix. A red solo cup was held in her hand. “Hey, Felix.”

“Hey.” Felix opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words, hesitantly turning away from Alice to listen in on Breanna and Owen’s conversation. The tension in the air suddenly filled his lungs.

The past week of rehearsals had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Felix and Alice didn’t say much to each other, both of them gravitating towards Breanna as their closest friend. Felix didn’t know what to do, or how to repair his relationship with Alice.

Were they fighting? He thought that they had cleared things up, but Alice’s lingering frowns and cold eyes made him feel like they weren’t past the borrower situation. He wanted to bring it up to her, but he was terrified of somehow betraying the borrowers, or rubbing salt into the freshly opened wound of his and Alice’s relationship. He didn’t know what to do.

“Rehearsals have been crazy, huh?” Alice remarked suddenly.

Felix met her gaze, peering intently. “Yeah,” he agreed after a moment, grateful that Alice had broken the tension first. “Yeah, how have you been holding up?”

Alice laughed, then took a long sip of her drink. Felix vaguely noticed the pink twinge in her cheeks. “If Mrs. Shelton makes us run the ballroom dance one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

Felix let out a laugh at that. In rehearsal yesterday, he and Alice had spent hours working on one singular dance scene between Ariel and Eric. It had become exhausting after a while, especially considering the fact that the two of them were barely on speaking terms and had to act like they were madly in love. Being able to laugh about it brought a warm feeling into Felix’s chest. 

After a few minutes, Breanna and Owen tuned into Felix and Alice’s conversation. The four of them together, laughing and comfortable, was something Felix had missed greatly. He hoped that Alice felt the same.

An hour into the party Ricky organized karaoke, which the cast grew ecstatic for. The majority of them crammed into the large space of the living room, and Felix and Alice watched in amusement as Breanna dragged Owen towards a microphone and insisted that he sing a duet with her. 

“Owen should sing more,” Alice commented as the redhead reluctantly began a few rocky notes, grinning at Breanna. “He’s got a good voice.”

Felix hummed in agreement, arms crossing. The pair of them lingered by the door to the kitchen, and after a moment Alice peered into her empty cup. “I’m going to the kitchen,” she decided. “Do you want anything?”

“I don’t really drink.”

“Forgot. Sorry.” Alice shrugged and slipped away.

Felix turned back to Breanna and Owen, who were now belting enthusiastically into their mics. An uncomfortable feeling fixed around Felix’s chest, and he turned and followed Alice into the kitchen.

Alice stood alone by the counter, filling her solo cup from a bowl of spiked punch. She glanced up as Felix approached. “Changed your mind?”

“No, I just… wanted to talk to you,” Felix admitted, leaning against the counter. Alice eyed him, bringing her cup to her lips, expectant. Felix hesitantly continued. “Is everything… okay with us?”

Alice took a few extra seconds to set her cup down, stalling. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Felix kept his voice light, raising his eyebrows. Alice’s lips twitched into a smile, then dropped, and she lowered her gaze. “I mean, you’re my closest friend, Alice. I don’t want things to get weird between us just because of one little mistake.”

Alice nodded slowly, continuing to avoid Felix’s gaze. Her fingers drummed over her cup. “I don’t know.”

Felix’s heart fell. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Alice repeated, blue gaze flickering. There was no malice or anger in her quiet voice. At Felix’s startled silence, she continued, turning her body towards him. “I mean, are those… people still in your apartment?”

Felix flushed, glancing away. “Uh… no, no, they’re not.”

Silence stretched between them for a bit too long. Alice’s eyebrows raised pointedly. “They are, aren’t they?”

“No,” Felix insisted lamely. 

Alice remained quiet, taking a sip of her drink, and Felix’s stomach twisted. When she finally spoke, it was to say, “I just… I feel hurt.”

“You… what?”

“I’m hurt. I get it, I made a mistake, but you treated me— you’ve been treating me— like I’m this awful person.” Alice’s voice rose suddenly, the redness of her cheeks growing. “You won’t even look at me in rehearsal.”

A cold, heavy feeling settled into Felix’s chest, and he took a step back. Realization hit him like a truck. “Wait, you…”

All this time, he thought that Alice had been intentionally avoiding him. Had he really been ignoring her so pointedly?

“That’s not true,” Felix began quickly, suddenly desperate to explain himself. “I’m just worried for the borrowers.”

Alice’s lips thinned. “Borrowers?”

Shit. 

“Alice—”

“What are you worried about?” Alice continued, aghast. “What, that I might take them again? Do you think I haven’t learned my lesson?”

The anger in her face fell away as two more people entered the room. Felix and Alice turned sharply towards Breanna and Owen, who immediately pounced on them.

“Did you hear our song?” Breanna pressed excitedly, not catching onto the tension in the air. “Owen fucked up that high note, did you hear that?”

“I did,” Owen insisted, uncharacteristically proud of his singing voice. 

Felix and Alice must have hesitated for a bit too long, because their two friends’ faces immediately dropped, glancing between them.

“Did something happen?” Breanna asked in alarm.

Alice met Felix’s gaze, a glint in her eye. “Why don’t you tell them?” She grumbled, her flush deepening.

The three others jerked back at her hostility. Owen’s eyebrows raised. “Holy shit. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Felix insisted, heart racing. 

“It’s not nothing,” Alice snapped.

“How much have you had to drink?” Breanna interrupted, dark eyes wide with concern as she glanced over Alice. Her nervous gaze turned to Felix, as if he might answer her question. “Is she okay?”

Alice sucked in a sharp breath, voice tense. “I’m fine. Felix, for the love of god, just tell them.”

“Tell us what?”

“I’m not gonna— Alice, I’m not supposed to tell—”

“What, you don’t trust them, either?” 

Alice’s words made Felix freeze. He blinked rapidly, glancing between his three friends, one of which was glaring menacingly and the other two were uneasily watching. His mouth was dry when he said, “Of course I trust you guys. It’s just… it’s not my secret to tell.”

“Oh, why not?” Alice said exasperatedly, leaning closer. “What do you think is gonna happen?”

For a moment, the only noise in the room was the distant sound of someone singing karaoke, comically juxtaposed to the tension in the kitchen. 

Breanna’s voice was quiet. “Guys, maybe you should get some water, sit down—”

“Felix doesn’t trust us,” Alice decided suddenly, jerking away. “He thinks we might hurt his little friends.”

Panic jumped up into Felix’s throat. “Alice.”

“And I did, but barely, and I said sorry, but he still acts like I—”

“Alice!” Felix interjected, chest tight. “Please.”

Alice stared at him for a moment, face flushed, before she tore away from their group and stormed out the door. Breanna stared at Felix, stunned and unsure, before following after Alice.

Felix and Owen were left alone. Owen’s gaze flickered over Felix, curious, silent.

“Owen,” Felix began weakly. “I…”

His friend only lifted his eyebrows, and Felix faltered, leaning back against the counter and bringing a hand to his forehead. The cold feeling had spread from chest throughout his whole body, leaving him feeling numb and unwell. 

Felix’s hand knocked into a glass bottle. 

Suddenly emboldened by the misery in his chest, Felix turned his head defeatedly. “Let’s do some shots.”

–

The quiet whirr of the AC filled the room as the only background noise. Pepper sat on the back of the couch, absentmindedly stitching up a rip in his jacket, draped over his lap.

After Felix had left, Pepper had chosen to remain seated on the couch, waiting for his friend to return. He didn’t have much to do at his home, and he didn’t see the point of walking all the way back there just yet, since Basil wasn’t there. Yesterday she had expressed her guilt to Pepper that she had been “overstaying her welcome” and “third-wheeling,” and since then she had been exploring the expanse of the apartment building, searching for a nearby place to build a home. 

Pepper was worried for her, but he was confident in her abilities to survive on her own. There was no telling when she might return, considering that she might travel all the way back to her original house to explain everything to the borrower family she lived with. He felt guilty that she had gotten caught up in his strange situation with Felix, leaving her feeling like she needed to give them space but also wanting to stick around and provide emotional support to her brother. Moving into her own place in the apartment building seemed like the best solution for the time being.

A sigh let Pepper’s body, and he dropped back, resting his head on the thick surface of the couch. The ceiling stretched high above him, reminding him just how out of place he was in this massive apartment. He had hoped that by spending time in Felix’s apartment by himself, he would grow more comfortable being in such an open space, but his heart still continued to twist every time he remembered how vulnerable he was, out in the open. 

The sound of the front door opening made Pepper instinctively sit up, clutching his jacket. The panic that shot through his body flickered away as he registered that it could only be Felix, and he relaxed. He busied himself by finishing up the stitching of his jacket as he waited for Felix to enter the living room.

It took a surprisingly long time. Footsteps filled the kitchen, followed by the occasional bump or clatter. Something in the back of Pepper’s mind hummed concerning, but he barely acknowledged it, turning his head as a tall figure finally appeared in the doorway.

Almost immediately, Pepper sensed that something was wrong.

Felix, at his enormous height, appeared to have lost his ability to stand properly. A large hand grasped the door frame in order to hold himself up, and despite this Felix still managed to sway back and forth, body unsteady. Pepper’s skin prickled uneasily. The blonde hair atop Felix’s head was slightly disheveled, as if he had just rolled out of bed, and even from across the room Pepper could see the glassiness of his half-lidded eyes as they searched the room.

Pepper’s breath hitched, coldness swarming his chest. He suddenly found that he was frozen, completely isolated on top of the couch. Vulnerability struck him like lightning, and with a dry mouth he shoved his jacket aside, pulling himself to his feet. 

That turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Felix’s gaze was tugged towards Pepper’s movement, and when the human’s eyes finally landed on him Pepper’s instincts all but screamed in his mind.

He didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with Felix, but he didn’t want to stick around and find out.

Felix didn’t seem to notice the way Pepper’s face had gone pale. The human positively lit up at the sight of the borrower, standing frozen on the back of the couch. “Pepper.”

The borrower’s jaw tightened, unable to pull his gaze away from the unsettling sight of his friend. His breath hitched when Felix suddenly approached, stumbling but still much too fast for comfort, and the borrower backed up as much as he could without tumbling off the couch.

“Felix, wha—!” Alarms shrieked in Pepper’s mind at the sight of two massive, foreboding hands reaching for him, and before he could even think to run he was being swept up into a grip far more powerful than he could ever hope to be. “Hey!”

His heart raced in panic. Felix’s unusually clumsy fingers somehow managed to be both too tight and not tight enough, and Pepper gasped, latching onto the fingers around him lest he fall through. The sudden terror that gripped his throat was suffocating.

For the first time since their first meeting, Felix had picked Pepper up without warning. 

“Look at you,” Felix cooed, words slurring. The pink of his cheeks was much more visible from so close, rosy and warm. “You’re so cute.”

Pepper’s breath shuddered, gray eyes wide and startled. Felix was holding him close to his face, closer than he ever had before, allowing the scent of alcohol to hit the borrower and bring the realization crashing down that Felix was drunk.

Hot panic filled Pepper’s chest as he searched Felix’s soft, glassy blue eyes. His lack of experience with alcohol had not prepared him for anything like this. He barely even understood its purpose or effects, let alone how to deal with a giant who was so incredibly drunk he had forgotten how to hold a borrower properly.

Pepper swallowed thickly, heels sliding on Felix’s palm. Felix’s forefinger and thumb were tight around Pepper’s torso, bunching the borrower’s shirt up uncomfortably. His gaze wandered Felix’s face, at an absolute loss of what to do.

“Felix,” Pepper said slowly, carefully. Fear crept up into his throat. “Felix, put me down.”

He couldn’t tell if Felix was listening, or if he could even understand him. He was answered by a sudden punch of vertigo, the air rushing up around him, drawing an exclamation from his chest. “Ah!”

Felix had collapsed onto the couch, knocking the wind out of Pepper’s lungs. The borrower gasped for breath, squirming in Felix’s grip, gaze dancing as he searched for some sort of escape route.

“I missed you,” Felix announced, haphazardly ruffling Pepper’s hair with a finger. The borrower jerked away, startled. “The party— the party wasn’t good.”

Felix spoke as if the words weren’t fitting properly in his mouth, unusual and misshapen. 

“Felix,” Pepper said again, breaths quick and uneven. How long did it take for alcohol to wear off? He had no idea. “You should— put— put me down.”

“I don’t want to,” Felix responded, warm and bright. The words made Pepper’s blood run cold. “You’re— I want… you’re my soulmate.”

“I— I know—” Pepper shivered, pushing anxiously at the fingers around him. He couldn’t handle such close proximity to Felix’s face and his large, warm fingers overwhelming him. They usually were so gentle. 

Felix wasn’t hurting him, but there was a distinct lack of care in the way he was handling Pepper, clumsily and oppressive. Pepper didn’t think that Felix would hurt him intentionally, but the idea that he might accidentally be harmed was very, very prominent in his mind.

“You’re my soulmate and you’re tiny,” Felix suddenly giggled, poking at Pepper’s trembling chest. 

Before Pepper could process what was happening, Felix lost his balance and fell to the side. Pepper yelped, tumbling onto the soft cushion of the couch, catching his breath only when Felix had propped himself up on his elbows, gaze bleary.

The realization that Felix was now hovering over Pepper, shoulders large and towering, sent Pepper’s panic skyrocketing all over again. The borrower scrambled back until he bumped into the arm of the couch.

“Oh,” Felix said, as if he only just realized that he had collapsed. His forearms trapped Pepper into a box, and he blinked several times as he processed the borrower standing only a few inches in front of his face. “Be careful.”

With the massive hands next to him, and the arm of the couch behind him, Pepper had nowhere to go. His lips tightened, processing Felix’s words. “Felix?”

“You’re… little,” Felix hiccuped, moving his hands to cradle Pepper from behind. “You could get hurt.”

Pepper took a moment to steady his breathing, glancing at the hands behind him. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Felix, just don’t—”

In one quick movement, Felix swept Pepper into his palm. He leaned forward, and suddenly he was pressing his soft lips into Pepper’s chest in a big, clumsy kiss.

Shock exploded into Pepper’s heart. The heat that radiated from Felix was overwhelming, enveloping the borrower in fire. The lips against Pepper’s body were soft but so underlyingly powerful, and all he could think about was how close he was to a giant’s mouth and how easily said giant could trap him between his teeth without a second’s thought.

The light pressure vanished as Felix pulled away, then erupted into a fit of giggles, so uncharacteristic for him. Pepper blinked up at him, face scarlet.

“I kissed you,” Felix whispered teasingly, as if he was sharing a secret.

Embarrassment crept into Pepper’s face, growing even hotter. He slowly straightened up, examining Felix’s face. “You— you should go to bed,” he forced out, voice wobbling. 

Thankfully, Felix actually seemed to register what he was saying, and he nodded. His large, clumsy hands tightened around Pepper, securing him as he pulled himself to his feet, leaving the borrower gasping for a few seconds.

Pepper only realized what was happening when Felix made his way over to his bedroom, the borrower held against his chest. “Hang on,” he called, heart racing. “Wait. You don’t need to take me with you.”

Pepper rarely ever entered Felix’s bedroom. Not only was there nothing of use in here that he couldn't find in the living room, but it just felt like an invasion of privacy, even before he had become friends with Felix. He felt guilty being in here while Felix was under the influence and clearly not entirely aware of what was happening.

“Oh— wait, waitwaitwait—”

Felix unceremoniously flopped down onto his bed, cradling Pepper against him and knocking the wind out of the borrower. The world spun for a moment, and Pepper took a deep breath, blinking up at the ceiling. The ground below him was soft and warm. 

“Goodnight, Pepper,” Felix said with a yawn.

His voice had floated from somewhere above Pepper’s head, making the borrower freeze and register exactly where he was.

The soft fabric of Felix’s shirt. The distant heartbeat. The gentle sway of enormous breaths.

Pepper was sprawled out on Felix’s chest, enveloped by a hand larger than himself. The panic that had spiked in Pepper’s body slowly subsided into uneasy breathing, and the borrower attempted to sit up.

“Felix,” Pepper said weakly, squirming. The hand atop of him was heavy, pinning him down effortlessly by its weight alone. “I don’t sleep here.”

“Hmm,” Felix responded noncommittally, the noise rumbling deep in his chest. Pepper’s breath caught in his throat, face warm.

“Felix,” he demanded, trying to twist so that he could look up at the human. He was met by silence, and the slow movement of sleeping lungs below him.

Pepper’s heart continued to pound, much louder than the heart thudding away below him. Felix’s hand wasn’t hurting him, just very slightly pinning him down, cradling him against the warm chest below him. This was the closest he had ever been to Felix in his life.

It wasn’t exactly… uncomfortable.

He tentatively shoved at the hand one more time, then promptly gave up, flopping down with a huff. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the idle sounds of the air conditioning and Felix’s breathing, before taking a deep breath and slumping his shoulders. Forcing himself to shift into a more comfortable position, he closed his eyes, sank into the heat surrounding him, and prayed that Felix wasn’t the type to move in his sleep.

-------

YAAAYYYYYY DRUNK GIANTS :DDDDD

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had fun writing it :))

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm @clumsiergiantess @vee-normous @fee-hunter @torakan

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hey MTV, I’m Spaci the tiny, and welcome to my crib

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My Borrowed Son | 21 | Lyn-ding A Hand

Chapter Twenty-One | Lyn-ding A Hand

The summer came and went and, before he knew it, Parker was a sophomore in high school as a thirteen year old boy.

The fallout with Selina had almost no affect on the overall friend group except for Spencer, who decided to stay with the friend group despite his twin sister’s pouting. Spencer said that his sister was just trying to be nosey and that while she did have a massive crush on Parker, he knew because she wouldn’t shut up about it, it was only part of her motivation to ask Parker to be her boyfriend.

Her curiosity got the better of her and it divided some of the friends for a short time while their versions of the event circulated.

Regardless, summer made for some great movie nights for the group of childhood friends and all of them managed to find time to see Parker virtually. There were large gaps of time where Parker wouldn’t hear from anyone, but that was okay.

The incident with Selina made Parker feel a bit more reserved and protective of himself, specifically about his condition. More time was dedicated to writing and studying late in the evenings because of it. The fallout initially left a bit of a hole in Parker’s chest, but it was something Parker felt himself getting over quickly.

Selina always had a flare for the dramatic and now was no exception.

Parker also knew that the frustration of people not knowing about his condition and keeping it a secret would take its toll on him. It made him feel lonely and guarded, which combined during the new school year as Parker being a lot more quiet than he was in his previous grades.

Some of his friends did ask why he was reluctant and if he felt comfortable with sharing more, but Parker quickly shut all of it down and retracted into himself.

That is… until it came time to partner up in one of his English literature classes.

Parker had hoped that he might be left to his own devices and write a story on his own, but there was an even number of students in the class which dashed his hopes. Parker sighed and leaned back in his chair. If he knew the general pattern, he would be writing the entire story alone along with the report and someone else would get a piece of the grade he earned.

As his teacher read off the names of his fellow classmates, Parker heard his name called along with the name of a girl he had become acquainted with last year because of her writing. They had actually been at the same middle school as well and even shared a few classes now that Parker thought about it. They had never officially met, but that didn’t stop him from knowing her name.

Lyndsie Sullivan.

She was a bit of a quiet, pensive girl, but her poetry was absolutely flawless. It reflected a spunky, upbeat kind of girl who was mature far beyond her years. Parker didn’t need to be an adult to tell that Lyndsie was well spoken and knew exactly what she wanted and was willing to wait or do whatever was necessary to have it.

She also had a subtle boldness about her. During a few instances where one of the other students was being picked on, it was Lyndsie who helped come to that student’s aid. There was a subtle intimidation that loomed behind her bright green eyes, and she knew it.

So, when Parker heard his name paired with hers, Parker felt a mild sense of unease settle over him. There was something about her that, when they had class discussion together, that made Parker feel like Lyndsie could see right through the camera.

Still, this was just for class. He wasn’t going to talk to her outside of class. They were meant to talk for assignments and that was all.

Lyndsie came over to her new desk in front of Parker’s camera that was set up in class and smiled politely as she organized all of her books and notes on the desk.

“Hey, Parker. It’s nice to meet you finally,” smiled Lyndsie. “I think we’ve had a few classes together last year and in middle school, but we’ve just been ships passing in the night.” Parker looked into her eyes and saw a bright spark of creativity blooming in those green eyes of hers.

He smiled back politely, readjusting his tie and nodded. “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. It’s nice to meet you too Lyndsie.”

“Lyn, please,” emphasized Lyndsie as she began tying her thick brown hair into a low bun. “Don’t get me wrong. I like my name, but I let my friends go by my nickname.” Parker snorted in amusement.

“Are we friends?” he asked. Lyn smiled and leaned forward on the desk, resting her chin onto the palm of her propped up hand.

“I think so. We have each other’s names and we’ve had a few classes together. We just need to find out our favorite colors and we’re basically besties,” grinned Lyn. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that and prefer to be strictly professional; but where’s the fun in that?”

Parker felt his cheeks getting a bit warm. Something about her features and her easygoing personality suddenly made him remember those nervous butterflies he felt when he and Selina talked all those months ago and, instantly, he felt himself wanting to retract. The last time he was asked his favorite color was when Selina went into that random rant about how boyfriends and girlfriends told each other things, and Parker didn’t want a repeat performance.

“Um… well… we’re at school and it’s supposed to be more professional,” stated Parker. Lyn sighed before shrugging her shoulders and snagging what looked like a fountain pen from her desk.

“Fair enough, Mr. Silverstein. Now, onto the assignment. We don’t have a lot of time in class to finish discussing what our story is going to be about, and I don’t want to have to work extra after school on something we could’ve knocked out right here and now,” stated Lyn as she began making notes at the top of the page.

Her go get em attitude was something Parker wasn’t familiar with from his fellow students. Many of them took their education seriously, yes; however, it was usually Parker who had to bring the conversation back on track. Rarely did they delve immediately into the assignment.

It was also odd that Lyn didn’t ask anything about his condition. Parker’s experience was that ninety-nine percent of people, when one-on-one, would ask him at least something about why he was behind the camera at home and not in class.

Not her.

It was, in a word, refreshing, and soon Parker found himself enthralled in their conversation about what kind of story they were going to create for their literature course.

“So, part of the rubric says that we have to do extensive research in the area of our choosing. It must be ‘historically accurate’ within reason for a fantasy novel. So, to me, this could mean a lot of things, and I can send an email regarding it, but I’m thinking that we need to find something we’re both interested in that could potentially involve a lot of research.

“We also need to cite our sources for whatever we choose, which will be fun. So, what do you want to do some research on? What do we want our story to be about?” asked Lyn as she tore her eyes away from the screen and onto Parker.

Parker, whose eyes were mostly scanning the rubric, glanced over to catch her eyes again. A shiver crawled down his spine as he glanced back at the digital checklist their story needed to achieve.

“Well, I know what I would want to do, but it’s not for everyone,” muttered Parker as an idea was already formulating in his mind.

“Oh? Let’s hear it. No bad ideas, relatively speaking,” stated Lyn.

Parker bit his lip and glimpsed his space poster in the corner of his study room. He sighed and thought there was no harm in suggesting it. It was an idea he had already, but he planned on this being part of an independent series he would publish on his own.

“Well… okay… hear me out…” started Parker before taking a breath before the plunge. “I’m really into space and satellites and everything. Could we do some kind of space adventure?” Lyn hummed contemplatively before nodding slowly.

“I… think we could do something with that. I don’t know much about space. Would this be about some kind of technology AI thing that finds a civilization? Or is it like Star Trek where you’ve got a captain of a ship and they go exploring around?”

“Um… maybe a mix of the two? I was just thinking about topics in general,” said Parker, surprised that Lyn was so easily convinced. Lyn hummed again and scribbled something into her notebook.

Passively, she remarked, “Personally, I’m kind of into pirates and all of that. Hey! If you’re not totally sold on a futuristic era, do you want to do a little combination of the two ideas? We have precedence with that one show ‘Firefly.’ Have you ever seen it?”

Parker had actually seen the show recently, but he didn’t see the very end of it because he had just started it.

“You want to do space pirate cowboys?” asked Parker, finding the idea amusing and alluring at the same time.

“Something like that. ‘Firefly’ mixed with a touch of ‘Treasure Planet’ and all of a sudden we have a hit. What do you think? Originality points and all that. Plus, we can each do research and break up the work if we want. I don’t know. What are your thoughts?” asked Lyn.

Parker thought about her proposition and already his mind was coming up with a bunch of fun ideas. He could see a crew of space pirates going around breaking all of the rules on different planets but also helping everyone. A kind of Robin Hood like character came to mind, and Parker found himself not opposed to the concept.

“Alright,” he said finally, noticing that Lyn had torn her eyes away from her writing to look up at him. “Sure. Let’s try it out.”

A beaming smile from Lyn suddenly made Parker’s cheeks very warm all of a sudden, making him look away from the camera as he quickly tapped away on his keyboard and shared his screen as a document.

It took only ten minutes for the two of them to come up with a solid concept for a story.

Together, they decided that the Galactic Federation, the overall ruling governmental body of the Interstellar Collective, had been corrupted by career politicians who had forgotten what it was like to scrape up a living. As a result, piracy and black markets blossomed in the oddest places – and space was no exception.

Captain Orion Zane, a charismatic leader with a true heart of gold, decided he wouldn’t stand for the injustice. He and a group of eleven others ran a ship that they collectively named “Karma” to intercept convoy ships and break up blockades of oppressive spaceships.

The announcement of class ended their creative flow, but Lyn offered her number and Discord username if Parker wanted to add her as a friend and talk more about the story later. In the meantime, she would start investigating the definition of “pirate,” marine laws that would apply in international waters as well as space, and weapons that traditional pirates used to see what they could futurize.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll talk to you later Parker. I mean… Mr. Silverstein,” said Lyn.

“Bye, Lyn. Oh… sorry… Ms. Sullivan,” said Parker before exiting to the lobby and preparing for his next class.

For whatever reason, Parker suddenly found himself completely distracted for the rest of the day. He was researching space during math and history, and when he wasn’t doing that he was thinking about the way Lyn looked at him over the screen.

Every time he thought about her, everything in him tingled and made him almost uncomfortably warm. What was almost alarming was that Parker liked this feeling. Just thinking about her dark green eyes flicking up from her paper made him shiver.

Class continued as normal, and Parker found himself eagerly awaiting his English class just to talk to Lyn again. He even dared to add her on Discord so the two of them could talk after school ended. Their conversation were primarily about their collective story, but the conversation would often drift to other topics by the end of the evening when they had to go finish work or eat dinner.

Parker liked talking to Lyn. There was something about her that drew him in regardless of topic. What made it better was that they were similarly aligned in how they thought class should be conducted, what they thought about different elements of life, and even their favorite activities which were numerous and all over the place.

She was a fascinating person to talk to, and Parker realized later that his face would ache from how much he was smiling.

It wasn’t until dinner nearly four weeks later that Parker found himself snapped out of his stupor when his mom asked how he was feeling and if there was anything wrong.

“Your cheeks are so pink. You’re not running a fever, are you?” she noticed as she dished out a bit of fish, greens, and rice into a small dish for Parker.

“Oh um… well… I was just thinking,” said Parker.

“Thinking? About what?” asked his mom. Parker took the dish and sat down at his place on the table while his mom fixed herself a plate.

“Well… we got new partners today for English class and… well… she’s… really nice…” said Parker. The gleam in his mom’s eyes was undeniable as she sat down at the table and smiled knowingly.

“Oh? She?” prompted his mom. Parker felt his cheeks blushing harder than ever. He knew he must look as red as a cherry tomato as he quickly blessed his food and began eating.

“Y-yeah,” he said as he shoveled a part of rice into his mouth.

“Really? What’s her name?” asked his mom. Parker knew he was busted at this point. It wasn’t like he was keeping a lot of secrets from his mom, but he also didn’t mention his adventure into the walls or the breakup with Selina.

He licked his lips and kept his eyes averted ever so slightly, wondering why he was feeling suddenly shy about talking to his mom, as he said, “Lyn. Technically, it’s Lyndsie Sullivan, but she likes her friends to call her Lyn.”

Amanda smiled as she brought her cup up to her lips and took a drink. Parker unknowingly had been talking a lot about Lyn recently, but the context was usually class and how good she was at pretty much everything. Amanda suspected Parker might be developing his first real crush, but actually hearing it was both exciting and worrisome.

Amanda worried about when this day would happen. She wanted her son to develop feelings for someone in his own time, but she also knew the complications of his size when talking to someone who was much bigger than he was. There were so many factors when developing a crush and getting into a relationship, and Parker’s size was one of those factors; though he didn’t really know it yet.

It wasn’t something that would come up in normal conversation. Plus, there were complications when it came to how tall Parker was.

It pained Amanda to no end, but a worry she had was that Parker wouldn’t find someone his size who he would like.

Now wasn’t the time to talk about that – or maybe it was.

She would have to read some of her parenting books later to see how to talk about these topics with Parker later tonight.

In the meantime, she decided to celebrate his feelings and encourage him. These feelings were natural after all.

“Well, Lyn sounds like a wonderful girl,” remarked Amanda. At this, Parker’s eyes changed. His mom swore she saw what she could only describe as “dream eyes” as Parker thought about his friend.

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s into photography and showed me some of her stuff. It’s really awesome. She does these cool perspective shots of flowers and all sorts of other things. I need to show you some of the things she sent over Discord,” said Parker, a bit too eagerly as he suddenly realized and went back to eating, cheeks bright scarlet.

“Yeah?” asked Amanda, hoping to prompt further reaction from her son. Sadly, Parker only elaborated a little as they finished their meal together. Parker was in a bit of a hurry because, according to him, he had an important assignment he needed to finish before the end of the night, but Amanda suspected that Parker simply wanted to get online and see if Lyn was online and available to chat.

He excused himself from the table hurriedly and vanished back to his room, jogging to cross the floor and taking the stairs two at a time to make it back to his space.

Amanda cleaned up after dinner, conflicting emotions swirling inside her. It was only a matter of time before Parker started asking the hard questions about why he couldn’t go see Lyn in person.

Drying her hands on a crumpled dish towel, Amanda retreated to her own room to do some research about talking to your children about difficult topics such as puberty, romance, and, most crushing of all, adoption.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“Well, I think we’ve got the chapters outlined well enough. How did your research go by the way? Did you find the original case about space being international waters?” asked Lyn. She was laying on her stomach with her laptop propped up on some pillows and a lap desk as she scribbled and wrote in her notebook. Their conversation had been going on for three hours after dinner, and both of them were obviously starting to droop. Still, neither wanted to be the first to relent and hang up first.

“Yeah, I did actually. It’s actually kind of a combination between two or three different laws if I’m reading everything correctly. One of them is the Outer Space Treaty, the Accords, and the Moon Treaty. There are a bunch of laws and rules to go along with it which I have in the shared document I shared with you,” replied Parker as he stifled a yawn.

“Oh, perfect! I love it when nerds to their work,” teased Lyn as she made a goofy face at the camera.

“Ha ha. I could say the same to you. How much did you have written about pirates in your math class when you were supposed to be paying attention? I know because I checked the document and saw you typing away as soon as we left English,” Parker said, flipping the tables on Lyn.

“Oh! You hush! I passed my test with flying colors, didn’t I?” she shot back. Parker chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah. Like you said. Nerd.”

Lyn rolled her eyes and vanished from view as she stretched before popping back up to the camera. They stared at one another for a minute in silence, each holding the other’s gaze, before bashfully glancing away simultaneously.

It took another minute before Lyn looked back at Parker and cleared her throat, obviously preparing to ask a question. “Um… Parker? Do you… mind if I ask you something?”

The tiredness banished instantly from Parker’s eyes as the question sank in. This was something he usually asked his mom, and she usually replied with “you can ask me anything,” but only now did Parker realize how nerve wracking that question could actually be.

He bit his lip, feeling himself bristle and those precious walls he had slowly lowered begin to raise once more.

“Um… yeah? I mean, I guess. What’s up?” asked Parker. In the back of his mind, a flashback of Selina’s conversation ran right through him. Was Lyn about to ask him if he liked her? Was she going to ask if they wanted to be boyfriend girlfriend only to immediately turn it on him? Was she going to ask about his condition? Would she ask why he wasn’t ever at school? What if she wanted to meet up to write together in person or study together?

His nerves started to make him squirm and sweat. Parker honestly didn’t think it was that noticeable until he saw Lyn’s curious expression.

“You okay?” she asked. “I mean that’s not my question, but you’re acting a bit weird all of a sudden. You can say no, ya goof.”

Parker squirmed again and tried to shake his nerves away.

“Um… no. I mean, I’m okay. It’s just that the question could mean anything, so I’m just preparing for whatever,” mumbled Parker. Lyn eyed him again but shrugged and continued.

“Well, you can always say no or abstain from answering. I hope you know that,” stated Lyn in her usual matter-of-fact tone. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

Parker held his breath as Lyn eyed the camera and watched Parker’s reaction to her question.

“Are you the author of ‘Welcome to My Little Life’?”

The question threw him so off guard that his expression was obviously a dead giveaway. Relief. Curiosity. Excitement. Nervousness.

“Um… yeah. I mean, of course. It’s just a bit of a side project and everything, but I like posting there. It’s a good space for exposure and everything,” Parker replied. The tenseness in his body dissipated and the young teen could once again relax with his friend.

The look on Lyn’s face mirrored his own as she propped herself up closer to the camera, saying, “I knew it! I mean, I thought it was you, but didn’t want to make things weird or bring it up. Dude! I totally follow you for your story about your Dungeons and Dragons character. Tal’el, right?”

Parker had never really met someone who knew about his blog. He’d chatted with his followers like Karl, Zel, and so many others, but never someone he was already friends with.

“No kidding?” asked Parker in a bit of disbelief. “You like it?”

“Dude! Of course! And you’ve liked some of my stuff too. I posted some pictures and you liked them. That’s why I wanted to ask – to see if you knew,” said Lyn. “I’m Lyn_see Photography.”

Parker felt his eyes go wide as he remembered the exact posts Lyn was talking about. The perspectives Lyn took was from the edge of a television stand that showed the depth and vastness of the living room while keeping everything in focus.

“That’s you? Dude! No way! I thought the style looked like yours, but I didn’t know that was you!”

The two of them laughed at the strange coincidence.

“How’d you even manage that perspective?” asked Parker.

“HDR mode. Basically had to take two identical pictures and blend them together,” said Lyn. “I could show you one of these days on my camera. I also had to blend it in Procreate, but it didn’t require a lot of editing which was nice.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” agreed Parker, the last of his tension leaving his body.

“Definitely,” grinned Lyn. “If you don’t mind my follow-up question, but you looked tense earlier? What was that all about?”

Parker squirmed again and tried to shrug it off as he contemplated his reply. Bringing it up might pick at the scab that was over the sensitive spot surrounding his whole interaction with Selina and not telling her more about his condition. He didn’t want to lose Lyn as a friend and he wanted to keep his condition close to his chest, but he also wanted to trust Lyn. She was someone who he cared about.

Selina was right about one thing – you tell people you trust.

And Parker felt like he could trust Lyn; at least, he thought he could trust her enough to talk about it a little.

“Well, I mean… I thought you were going to ask about my… condition,” said Parker. He braced himself for whatever Lyn was going to say next and hoped he hadn’t accidentally ruined something good.

“Oh, that makes sense. I mean, I’m sure it’s a sensitive thing for you and everything,” replied Lyn. “Did… someone try and pry?”

Parker felt himself nodding before he even realized he was responding.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry that happened. I mean, I can’t say that I’m not curious, but I wouldn’t go asking questions unless you wanted to talk about something about it. I hope you’d be comfortable enough to talk about it with me if you needed to,” stated Lyn.

Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Was it that easy?

An announcement of curiosity accompanied with an invitation to refuse.

The smile that spread onto Parker’s face stretched from ear to ear as another wave of genuine relief filled him. This was exactly what he hoped Selina would say, and now he was hearing it from Lyn – someone who he cared about very much despite knowing her for such a short time.

“I… yeah… I would feel comfortable with that… you know… if I needed to talk about it and everything,” muttered Parker. Was it warm in the room? Or was it just him? There was a moment where the two of them made eye-contact through the lens of the camera and, for a moment, Parker could have sworn she was right there looking at him.

His entire body felt tingly and excited. It felt like electricity was filling his body, pouring itself over him and making his heart race and pound.

Another minute passed before Lyn cleared her throat and continued their conversation.

“Good. Now, you have to tell me more about your story and where it’s going to go. I swear your updates are so chaotic that it drives me crazy. What’s going to happen with that princess? And is he going to cure the plague going through the community? I have to know!”

Parker laughed and shook his head.

“You know I can’t spoil anything,” Parker teased.

“Oh! Spoil sport! You’re either saying it because you’re cruel and want to torture me or because you don’t know the answer!” accused Lyn, obviously playing in a tone that made Parker’s heart race.

The two of them continued talking for the next hour where, reluctantly, Parker revealed a few details of his story to appease Lyn before the two of them signed off simultaneously, accidentally falling asleep for a moment before startling awake and saying goodnight. Parker crawled into his bed, face hurting from smiling so much, and drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

Beginning

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she’s just borrowing some sugar!!!

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Did you know...? Professor Hill's house in the latest chapter was inspired by the real life Casa Loma in Toronto! It was also the abode of an eccentric rich person for a time before being opened to the public.

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From an RP with @drinkme-gt ft. her OC Glen! He’s having a hard time of it being sick

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House on a Hill

Part 27 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here.

"Look for the big house on a hill. Castle Hill, they call it. You can't miss it." Were the directions the professor had given to Joe.

The directions had hardly been necessary. As the two reached the base of the great hill, Joe could immediately smell the scent of the tulips and marigolds that carpeted it. Soon, from where he hung out of Harry's pocket, he saw the garden come into view. Thousands of delicate flowers nodded sleepily in the late spring breeze, shuddering and swaying in the sunlight. Then as Harry climbed upwards one tower shyly emerged from the sea of flowers, and another, like the mast of an approaching ship. As if making a grand entrance in its own right, the entirety of Castle Hill finally revealed itself to the guests when they reached the top, and Joe was greeted with a sight that hardly seemed real. When professor Hill had said the word house, he had imagined a regular house much like his and Harry’s, not something nearly so bizarre as this: high upon the hill it sat, a mass of stone parapets and arches, incomprehensible in its scale and immensity to poor Joe, for whom even the Stinson House was unthinkably vast.

He wished he had brought some charcoal and paper.

When their journey up the sweet-smelling hill was complete, Harry stopped short at a stone wall with a wrought-iron gate fused into it.

“This looks like Castle Hill all right.” Said Harry.

“So how are you supposed to get in? Is it locked?” Asked Joe.

On the wall next to the gate sat a box sleek and modern, one that reminded Joe of the telephone at home. He kicked his legs backwards and jabbed Harry in the chest.

“Try picking up the phone.” He added.

“I will, I will.” Harry assured him. “Just… give me a minute.” Harry said.

“To do what?”

“…I’ve never been to a castle before.”

Joe tossed his head back in frustration.

“You think I’m any different? Think I got some secret hideout you don’t know about? Come on, Harry, hurry up!” He said.

Joe felt Harry shift uneasily, then finally he picked up the mouthpiece.

“Hill residence.” Said a starchy voice from the box.

“This is doctor Avery for professor Hi-”

Harry hadn’t even finished speaking when the electric gate began to open.

“Welcome, doctor. I will be down with the papers in a moment.” Said the voice from the box.

“Papers…?” Said Harry.

The man behind the box hung up abruptly, and Harry and Joe were left with nothing to do besides cross the gate and speculate.

“Maybe you should hide.” Harry whispered.

Joe, one step ahead of him, had already slid into Harry’s front pocket out of view. Within seconds it grew stuffy – Joe had decided to give his nice suit a break, and opted for wearing his good borrowing gear to the occasion, a notable miscalculation in the rising heat.

Harry made it ten steps in when the starchy voice returned.

“Not another step until you sign the agreement, doctor, if you please.” It ordered.

Joe braced himself as Harry lurched to a stop.

“Agreement?” Harry said.

“Professor Hill requires all visitors to the grounds to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement.” The stranger explained.

Joe heard the shuffling of papers from where he was hiding.

“Right… my apologies. I’ll have a look.” Harry said.

“And Mr. Piccoli, too, if you will.” Said the strange voice.

Joe couldn’t resist the urge to poke his head out from Harry’s pocket at the mention of his name. He was greeted with the sight of a sullen, dark-haired man in an even darker suit. His face contorted in confusion as the man in the suit, in cool and businesslike fashion, handed him a stack of papers that were more or less his size. He stared at them in wonder as Harry motioned for him to crawl out of his pocket. Sitting on Harry’s hand, he shuffled through the agreement intensively.

“You have a pen?” Harry asked the strange assistant.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Joe barked. “Don’t sign a thing until you’ve read it all the way through.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Joe...” Said Harry.

“Miniatures love to do this, don't they?” The man in black mused.

Joe suppressed a scowl as he scanned the boilerplate and contemplated the agreement’s definition of the word “disclosure.” So intently did he read that the voice of professor Hill behind them came as a surprise.

“Geoffrey, Geoffrey, please! There’s no need for that today. Save it for the media.” Professor Hill said the last word with no small amount of disdain.

Joe watched as the professor politely confiscated the agreement from Harry. Cautiously he turned in his as well, and professor Hill handed them back to Geoffrey and sent him on his way.

“Go set the tables, will you?” Joe heard the professor mumble to the sullen assistant.

Joe’s ears pricked up. He had been dreading coming to Castle Hill to discuss Tiny Town, for he had imagined it would be a depressing occasion. The prospect of free food certainly lightened his mood.

With his sleeves rolled up and his jacket tossed over his shoulder, the ebullient professor led the two up the hill to the main entrance. Joe, now perched on Harry’s shoulder, was treated with a bird’s eye view of the garden and the street below.

“This was my father’s estate.” Professor Hill explained. “He struck it rich selling greeting cards of all things... before getting lost in Antarctica, that is.”

Harry and Joe were both much too in awe to speak as the professor led them through the tall, wooden doors and into the main foyer. A seemingly endless wooden floor stretched ahead while an elegant archway towered above, and mere feet away from that a chandelier hung from the ceiling. A strange, wooden trim jutted out several inches from the walls at what was slightly below the height of Harry's shoulder, though that was not the strangest thing about the Hill residence. Already Joe could see a number of odd giant artifacts, namely the skull of a large beast with two very long, pointed tusks that sat casually on the hallway table. Next to it more mounted animals guarded the area – what Joe could recognize as an upright bear, and another large, striped creature on all fours he had never encountered before. Before he had a chance to ask about any of the oddities that greeted them, Harry gently took him down from his shoulder and placed him next to the skull on the table. The coolness of the interior came as no small relief to Joe. Meanwhile a maid heckled Harry into giving her his jacket, though Joe wouldn’t let her anywhere near him when she approached. To Joe's surprise, when he backed away she let him alone without question.

With the crisis averted, he craned his neck up and admired teeth on the skull that were several times as long as he was.

“That is a Smilodon.” The professor said to Joe.

 “Makes sense. It’s sure got plenty of teeth to smile with.” Joe said as his skin crawled.

When he was done being badgered by the staff, Harry began to extend a hand to Joe to pick him back up again, before the professor rapped on something that protruded from the wall.

“You can take the walkway if you like, Mr. Piccoli.” The professor said.

“Walkway…?” Joe mouthed.

Turning around, Joe could see that what he had initially dismissed as a trim along the walls was actually a platform with a guardrail. As he scanned the room, he spied a number of ladders and steps leading up and down from them, allowing him to move about without fear of being stepped on.

“Oh, I am definitely taking the walkway.” Joe said, leaving a dejected Harry in his wake as he climbed up onto it.

“Are there miniatures here, professor?” Harry asked hesitantly.

The professor simply chuckled.

“We get all kinds of guests, I’ll put it to you that way.” He said. “And please, call me Billy! My ah, colleague will whether I like it or not, so may as well get used to it.” He grumbled.

“Okay professo-er, Billy.” Harry said.

“I must apologize for my wife’s absence, too.” Said Billy as he spun the wedding ring around his finger. “She’s been very ill lately. Out in Nova Scotia taking in that good sea air.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Wish her well for me.” Harry responded.

Joe was so preoccupied with the novelty of seeing the giants at eye level that he was only half-listening. He didn’t speak up until they turned down a long hallway and something amusing caught his eye.

“Watch out, Harry! There’s a naked lady!” He crowed.

Before them in the corner stood a sight that delighted and perplexed Joe in equal measure: a marble statue of a nude woman.

“Joe, mind your manners!” Harry scolded him.

Joe, who was minding his manners perfectly well as far as he was concerned, kept on going.

“Hey professor Billy, why are you giants so afraid of naked people?” He asked. "And if you're so afraid of 'em, why do you have statues of 'em?"

“It's artistic nudity, Joe! And you can’t just ask him that!” Harry hissed, bringing Joe to a dead stop for a moment – it was one thing for Harry to scowl at him from high above or from across the room, but quite another for him to do it while making direct eye contact.

Billy simply chuckled.

“Why are you miniatures not afraid of naked people?” He countered.

Joe thought long and hard for a moment, then answered honestly.

“I don’t know.” He said.

“That’s culture, my friend. We all have it. If we were fish, it would be the water we all swim in.” Billy replied.

“Culture?” Joe repeated.

“The values we share. The things we have in common. The things we consider to be right or wrong. Our traditions… here’s one of mine.” He said, leading the two of them into a large parlour half-filled with cardboard boxes.

Billy Hill gestured to a portrait above the mantle. It was of a man dressed entirely in a light brown uniform of sorts on a grassy knoll. He wore a funny hat that was egg-shaped at the top, with a wide brim at the bottom. He knelt down with a gun in hand, holding the limp body of another strange animal by the scruff of its neck. Standing beside him was a wiry young boy dressed identically to his father, who gazed solemnly ahead.

“My father wanted me to be a big game hunter just like he was. Took me on my first safari when I was nine.” Joe could sense disdain in the professor’s voice as he told the story. “…but culture changes, Mr. Piccoli. We are the ones who determine the culture, culture does not rule us.”

Joe leaned against the walkway rail and nodded. Something about the professor’s words rang true, spoke to the sight in Tiny Town that had so disturbed him. He was contemplating this newfound concept of culture and how one could possibly change it when Harry bumped into one of the cardboard boxes and jumped, causing him to lose his train of thought.

Harry let out a string of apologies then asked,

“…what are these for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The family collection.” The professor said. “My father brought back a lot of ah, souvenirs from our trips. I’ve decided to return them... if I can find out where on Earth they were taken from.”

“Why would you do that?” Harry studied a wooden mask that jutted out from the box. “These look very rare. They must be quite expensive.”

“Good anthropology has a way of changing one’s point of view for the better.” Billy declared. “Bad anthropology… well, there’s plenty of that in the world. I’d rather not add more of it… though I’m hardly an anthropologist myself.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry laughed. “You’re a professor of anthropology, aren’t you?”

“Oh, we’ll get to that.” Hill assured him.

Joe scurried along as Hill took Harry by the shoulder and led him down another turn. As they neared the end of this hallway, something caught Joe’s attention. A peculiar sound that chortled and wavered, but one he recognized instantly. It was the sound of voices. Not the hearty trumpeting of exuberant giants, but the more muted, yet no less boisterous tone of his fellow tinies in high spirits. 

“So there is miniatures in here!” Joe exclaimed.

"Joe!? Joe!" The professor called from behind him.

Joe took no heed as he raced further down the walkway in search of the miniatures. The professor, now unsettled, chased after him and as the three approached the rear of the house, where the hallway they were traveling down merged with another, they reached a door that read: AVIARY.

“No no no!” The professor stammered. “Those aren’t miniatures, Joe, those are just… birds. Endangered birds that mimic the sound of human speech.” Joe stopped where the walkway ended and tilted his head at the door as the professor continued. “They scare very easily. Come along, this way now!”

Harry, meanwhile, crossed his arms and shot him a glare that was even icier than the last one.

"Don't be rude." He ordered.

Joe looked from Harry to the professor to the door then back again, plainly skeptical, but at Harry's bidding he ultimately followed the two over to the doorway across from the Aviary. Billy stood before this door with one hand on the doorknob, and right as he was about to open it he turned around to face Harry and Joe.

“...I have a confession to make.” Hill said. “I’m not the real professor Hill, and we aren’t really meeting my colleague. It’s the other way around. I’m her colleague.” Joe exchanged a puzzled glance with Harry as Billy continued. “Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to the real professor Hill.”

Joe climbed the ladder from the walkway down to the floor and crossed the threshold onto marble tile that was so well polished he could see his own face in it. The room below, palatial in appearance, was set deeper into the ground, and he scurried over to another small staircase built just for him and climbed down the curved steps to the meeting place below. Looking up, he could see the room was lined with shelves upon shelves of books, though not giant-sized ones. In the center of the white-walled study sat two giant-sized chairs, and a circular table, on which another, much smaller set of chairs and tables had been set out. As Joe raced down the staircase he could see that the centerpiece of the table was a vase of firey orange flowers, and leaning against that vase was a fellow miniature.

He couldn’t get a good look at her at ground-level when he reached the bottom of the staircase, so he whistled for Harry to pick him up. True to his training, the giant did so, and from where he crouched in Harry’s palm he eyed the woman with no small amount of suspicion. If ever there was an archetypal hotshot borrower, this woman was it: she was stocky and muscular in build, farmer-tanned and decked out in the best borrowing gear money could buy. Enviously he counted the pockets on her cherry red jacket, as all career borrowers did when sizing one another up, and noted that hers had precisely two more pockets than his did. Normally this would have been a non-issue, he would have paid her proper respect and went on his merry way, but there was one glaring problem Joe had with this woman: her auburn hair was twisted back into a braid and tossed over her shoulder, revealing a missing left ear.

As Harry carried him closer and closer to her, Joe wanted nothing more than to scurry away. Her mere presence felt like a threat somehow, an indirect admission of something on Joe's part by proximity. Joe had not feared marking at Calloway’s, and the incident outside of Tiny Town was one he could swiftly put out of sight and out of mind, but here, now, seeing a real marked tiny in the flesh and being expected to commit the unforgivable sin of fraternizing with her? It threw everything inside of Joe off-kilter.

She only smiled at him as he wore his unease all over his face.

“Welcome to my study.” She said with open arms. "Ain't it grand?"

Something about the smile on her face told Joe that she was expecting a showdown, and Joe was reluctant to give her one.

“Harry, don’t put me down there.” He begged under his breath.

“Why not?” Asked the oblivious giant.

“I can’t talk to her! She’s a pet tiny!” He spat.

“Be a good guest, will you!?” Harry chided.

The woman on the table threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, kiddo! I don’t bite. I’m very well trained.” She sneered.

As Joe fought with Harry to get away, he saw the real professor Hill beckon to the fake professor Hill. They launched into a cryptic whisper-fight for a passing moment until Joe was finally overwhelmed by Harry and deposited onto the table. Billy backed off, and the woman closed in on Joe like a cat to a mouse as he drew back in fear.

“Well well, look at you.” She said. “You look different than I expected. From what Billy told me I was picturing a dockie.”

“I’m not a damn dockie!” Joe said, swearing at a woman the way a damn dockie would.

“What’s a dockie?” Harry whispered.

“It’s miniature slang for a criminal.” Billy explained.

When Joe backed into the edge of the table and teetered over it, the lady in red snatched his left ear and wrenched him forwards, causing Harry to flinch as Joe let out a squeal.

“You don’t like pet tinies, huh?” She growled into his ear, then released him. “Tell me, who’s that over there, huh? Who brought you here?” She gestured over to Harry while Joe fumed at her, then, feeling betrayed by the giant, he turned his scowl to Harry as he rubbed his sore ear, who quickly averted his gaze.

“Lorraine… easy now. He’s still new to this.” Billy coaxed her.

The pet tiny, Lorraine, looked Joe up and down with an expression equal parts smugness and scorn. Then she reached out a hand to him.

“You better start liking pet tinies real fast at the rate you’re goin’.” She said. “Name’s Lorraine. Lorraine…”

Before she could finish her greeting, Billy erupted into a flurry of more esoteric gestures. She mouthed what Joe guessed were the words I won’t at Billy, before casting him an exasperated glance and turning her attention back to Joe.

“…Burroton.” She concluded as Joe reluctantly reached out and shook her hand, nearly losing it to her death grip in the process. “Lorraine Burroton.” Joe massaged his sore hand once she freed him. “And you, what’s your name big guy? Come here.” She beckoned to Harry who tensed up, then offered her his pinkie.

“Harry Avery.” He said.

He too gripped his pinkie once it was shaken and freed.

“Pleasure. All right. Joe, Harry, I understand you guys have some questions about Tiny Town, which is great because I’m the one who invented Tiny Town. Ask away.”

Lorraine pulled out her miniature chair and sat at her miniature table with chin in hand as the waitstaff tended to the giants, seemingly relishing in Joe’s discomfort. As Joe sat down, he barely noticed the pitcher of lemonade before him or the impeccably made little cakes. All he could focus on was Lorraine’s missing ear.

“You're the one who invented Tiny Town?” Harry’s voice was incredulous.

“I did. I could tell you the whole story.” She said as she poured herself a glass of lemonade.

“Please do.” Harry said.

Joe then watched in sickened fascination as Lorraine did the most giantlike thing he ever saw a fellow tiny do: she reached into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a hand-rolled cigarette. She lit it and puffed away as she launched into her tale.

“So here’s the story.” Lorraine began. “Long, long ago, about ten years ago now, Billy and I got talking philanthropy one day and I thought, gee, wouldn’t it be nice if us tinies could have homes of our own? A happy place to be where we don’t have to live rough and worry about all the thousands of things out to kill us?”

Joe looked over to Billy, who was nodding along and smiling at Lorraine as her story continued. Something about the fondness in the man’s smile made Joe all the more uneasy. He knew what a smile like that meant in a giant. He had daydreamed about a giant smiling at him that way as a boy. Some part of him deep down knew what this miniature woman and this giant man really were, but he was too afraid to articulate it even to himself in the privacy of his own head.

It was real now. There were others like him. Rather than being elated or relieved, all Joe felt in their presence was his own internalized shame.

“…so I started drafting up the plans for this place called Marigold Acres.” She gestured up to the vase of flowers on the table. “It’s my favourite flower, in case you were wondering. Anyways – Billy manages to pitch it to the university as an experimental housing project and drums up enough support. The only problem is securing the land. Nobody wanted a bunch of miniatures in their back yard. They all thought we’d come into their houses and steal things… never mind the whole idea was for us to have houses of our own, but anyways…”

She flicked her cigarette and took a sip of her lemonade as Joe and Harry took in the tale with fascination.

“…the only place the city will let us build it is in the park, by the zoo, on land we’re renting from them. They won’t let us buy a plot for it. Originally they wanted to make it an extension of the zoo, but the owner of the zoo wasn’t having that and we weren’t either. So Marigold Acres gets built, close-to-but-not-part-of the zoo. Nobody actually calls it Marigold Acres, because giants are assholes. It gets de-facto renamed to Tiny Town, which is so pejorative. …still with me?”

Lorraine eyed Joe and Harry as they nodded, then launched back into her lecture.

“Okay, so the thing about this first Tiny Town, Tiny Town One, is it had no security. Nada. Zilch. We kept bugging the city over and over to at least post some guards around it – something. Tinies were getting snatched left and right! According to the original agreement we signed with them, it was up to them to keep Tiny Town secure, but they weren’t living up to their end of the bargain, and can you guess what happened?”

Joe sat up straight in his chair.

“Some giant kicked all the buildings in?” Was his educated guess.

“No, but close! Some drunken asshole sped right through the park and drove a motor-car into the entire thing. Killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people in a split second. Finally after all that bad press we’re able to convince them to beef up the security, but they’ll only agree to it if we renegotiate the agreement and put Tiny Town completely under their control. …and people were dying, and everyone blamed me for the incident to the point that they… y’know.”

To the point that they marked her, Joe presumed, as he watched Lorraine’s hand hover around her left ear. Something softened in Joe as she appeared distraught at the memory when it hit her, then steeled herself again.

“…so we renegotiated.” She said. “After that, they rebuilt it into the fire hazard it is today, and that’s how Tiny Town Two was made.”

“The city set up a new board of directors to oversee the second Tiny Town after we gave up control.” Billy added. “Now it consists of a number of chairmen for right-wing public interest groups who are paying the city good money under the table to stay on the board, each of them with a keen interest in shaping how the public behaves and thinks. Lately they’ve been using Tiny Town as a testing grounds, a social experiment if you will, to see which tactics work best for spreading certain unsavoury ideas. Meanwhile, as part of the new agreement, I’m forbidden from speaking ill of the Tiny Town project whenever our students ask me about it. I have to sit in my office and preach the good word of Tiny Town to them while knowing damn well what’s going on underneath.”

“Unsavoury ideas? But why here? Why miniatures? Why would they want to teach anyone such a thing?” Harry asked.

“Why not miniatures?” Lorraine cut in. “Think about it: they have little frame of reference for how the giant world works. If these groups find something that works to divide tinies at a small scale, they can start using those tactics on giants at a large scale. Hell, if they used the same tricks on schoolchildren they could raise a whole generation that’s falling over itself to march off to war.”

“War… I see now.” Said Harry. “They’re trying to avoid another conscription crisis.”

“Bingo.” Lorraine replied as she snuffed out her cigarette on the tabletop. “The government was none too impressed with that fiasco. The next time a world war comes around – and another world war will come around – they wanna be ready. They want to raise a generation who’ll hop right into their uniforms with no fuss about it. Now, I dunno what conclusions they’ve reached since kicking us outta the project, but if you want my educated guess: they’re cooking up a bunch of tactics to get one group of people to hate another group of people. From what I’ve heard, they’ve already done a fine job of recreating the Irish-Italian mob wars going on in the states.”

Harry looked utterly stunned. As Joe sat there with near uncontrollable energy coursing through him he couldn’t help but envy Harry, and Lorraine and Billy as well. They all seemed to know what they were talking about. Joe had no idea what “mob wars” were and he had little interest in finding out.

“A social experiment like that, here in Canada? With all due respect, professor Burroton, that sounds like something the Americans would do, not us.” Harry said.

Billy eyed him and gave a sad smile.

“Well, it is true that many of these interest groups at the helm are based in the states.” He said. “...but let’s not kid ourselves, doctor. Plenty of them are Canadian too.”

Harry appeared downright scandalized for a moment, then fell into deep thought. Joe was so full of nervous energy now that he nearly launched out of his seat. Nobody was asking the real questions as far as he was concerned.

“So why isn’t anyone doing anything about this? You can’t just let it go on like that! You’re the ones who made it, aren’t you?” Joe said.

“We are doing something about it. We’re fighting it in court. That’s where these battles happen, I’m afraid.” Billy explained.

“Well, why not go there and talk to them in the meantime?” Joe insisted. “Tell them they’re part of some experiment! Maybe if they know they’ll go somewhere else.”

“Tried that too.” Lorraine remarked. “They don’t believe us. Even if they did, most of ‘em don’t care enough to leave. Some of them benefit from it too much to change… others just wanna punish anyone who they see as inferior to them, and Tiny Town gives them an easy way to do that. Either way their minds are made up, there’s no reasoning with these people.”

Joe didn’t want to believe what Lorraine was saying. He wanted to live in a world where things were simple, where people were reasonable, where the evils of the world would fall away when confronted with good, keen sense. He made a mental note to swing by Tiny Town later to find out for himself whether or not what she was saying was true.

“Where do I go, then? Where does anyone go?” Joe asked. “Tiny Town is bad, colonies are hit and miss, the wild life is brutal… do I just hop into a gilded cage and sacrifice my dignity at the altar of petdom or something?”

“What’s so bad about living with me?” Harry murmured.

Lorraine rolled her eyes at Joe. Billy, meanwhile, leaned in and mouthed something to her that resembled the words tell him. She scowled at him once again, shook her head, then looked Joe up and down as though she were sizing him up. For a hot second she and Billy appeared to be on the verge of another whisper fight, but instead he leaned away and looked on expectantly.

“…what was that about?” Asked Joe.

Lorraine sighed and locked eyes with him. Joe could see the mistrust written all over her face, so he was surprised by what she did next. He watched curiously as she tossed her braid, bent down in her chair, and rolled up her right pant leg. Harry immediately looked away as she undid her boot for good measure, but Joe, who was not afraid of naked ankles or the people attached to them, craned his neck to see a scar not unlike like the one that had been around Totsy the elephant’s leg.

“I know a thing or two about escaping cages.” She said dryly, not taking her eyes off of Joe. “What you’ve got going on with your giant ain’t it.”

“You were…” Joe began, though he didn’t know how to phrase the rest of his question.

Lorraine simply nodded, did her boot back up and sat up straight as Joe gazed into the center of the table with a sinking feeling. Now he felt deeply sorry for this pet tiny he had initially spurned, though he was unnerved in no small part by the fact that everything about this woman was an unwelcome reminder. It was as if she were the physical manifestation of everything Joe was afraid of becoming, and he didn’t like that. He wanted to live with Harry without all the baggage and social stigma it came with. To have his giant and his left ear, too.

“Yeah, well… some giants are nice, sure, but we’re still so different. He’s always gonna have power I don’t. Even he was saying that, weren’t you Harry?” Joe said.

“I was…” Harry admitted.

“Having power isn’t the same as abusing it.” Lorraine said. “Hell, we’re not even that different when you get down to it. Look over there.”

Lorraine pointed to a diagram on the far wall. On it Joe could see drawings of what appeared to be three skeletons of primitive humans in varying degrees of upright posture. In front of them was a fully upright modern skeleton, and leading the procession in front of it, so small Joe could barely make it out from where he sat, was the skeleton of a modern miniature.

“Don’tcha think it’s a little messed up how, whenever people talk about us and them, they call the big people the humans and the tiny people the tinies?” Lorraine asked him, and Joe nodded in agreement. “Well here’s a little secret: the only thing that really separates us and them is a chemical here and a lump of cells there. Aside from that, we’re the same damn species when you get down to it.”

Billy lit up at the reminder.

“Ahh, yes, I was meaning to ask you about that, doctor. I was wondering if you had encountered any recent discoveries in your journals about the mac-”

Joe’s mind immediately tuned out the medical jargon he had no hope of understanding. Meanwhile, as Harry launched into a doctorly diatribe about strange chemicals, Joe struggled to pick up what Lorraine was putting down. What did species have to do with it? Lorraine seemed to sense what was going through his head as the doctor and the professor chattered away. She leaned across the table, clapped him on the shoulder and in a voice so low neither the professor nor Harry could hope to hear she said,

“Tell me something: is your giant nice to you?”

Joe nodded. Of course Harry was nice to him! He had been nice from the very start.

“Does he listen to you?” She continued.

Though that battle had been hard won, Joe nodded again.

“Here’s the most important question: when you say no, does he respect that?”

Joe thought long and hard about the last question. His mind wandered back to the trinket box, to sleeping in the kitchen, to the way Harry fretted when Joe had said no after he had said yes. How Harry worried so much about Joe’s capacity to say no that the man shot himself in the foot sometimes. Taking all that into consideration, Joe nodded again and added,

“I think he listens a little too well sometimes.”

“Then cherish that!” Lorraine said, shaking him as she spoke as if to shake the words themselves into his brain. She released him and sipped on her lemonade. “It’s not every day you find that in a giant. You’re not a pet, Joe. I’m not either, not really. We’re just lucky.” 

In the background, Harry was laughing at something Billy said to him, a laugh deep and lovely.

As Joe stared into space, he accepted it was a sound worth being mutilated for.

-

Joe scoured the grass along the grounds of Tiny Town for the hole he had crawled through only days before. As he ran his foot along the inner fence, what surprised him was not a sudden dip in the ground, but the hardness of pure concrete. Bending down to look closer, he could see what he swore were the remains of the hole, clearly filled in after he had left.

Of course lightning wouldn’t strike twice. He got up and tried his best to peer through the gaps in the wooden slats as evening grew near, trying to devise some other way to get in, or at the very least catch O’Grady’s attention. He was about to give up when a whistle blew, and the deafening sounds of hundreds of footsteps filled the streets. Shadow after shadow passed through the gaps in the fence. Maybe if he was lucky one of them would be O’Grady’s, Joe reasoned, and he whistled as loudly as he could then started shouting for good measure.

“O’GRADY! OH-GRAY-DEE! YOU IN THERE, PAL!?”

Soon enough an irritable brogue could be heard through the mass of marching feet.

“Joe!? What are you doing here? I gotta get home.” O’Grady complained. “Let’s walk and talk.”

Now he could see O’Grady’s green eyes through the fence. Like a little dog he trotted along as O’Grady made his evening commute. 

“O’Grady, you gotta leave Tiny Town. It’s not safe. It’s an experiment! The whole thing is – it’s evil, Tim!” Joe jogged along the fence, trying to keep tabs on where O’Grady was – he couldn’t tell if he was too far back or too far ahead.

“Experiment? What are you talking about!? This the latest borrower rumor going around?”

“No, it’s not a rumor! I heard it from the lady who made Tiny Town herself! A buncha giants took it over and now they’re doing all this weird stuff to-”

“Psssssh, there’s no lady who made Tiny Town! It was Dawson’s idea, everyone knows that!” O’Grady said, stopping dead in his tracks. “I’m not leaving, either. Ye can’t do that! Dirty bastard got marked the other day trying something like that, digging holes all over the bloody place. Pet behaviour, that is.”

You mean you marked him. He didn’t get marked, Tim. You marked him. I saw it happen. Joe thought, but wouldn’t dare say it.

Joe broke into a cold sweat at the mere mention of the incident. Growing up, Joe had been taught that you never, ever accused someone of being a pet without good reason. A marking could ruin a person’s entire life, so there had to be solid proof and evidence before reaching for the knife. The idea that someone could be marked for a crime as insignificant as leaving someplace they didn’t want to be was unthinkable to Joe. As he processed O’Grady’s words, more questions began to plague him: was Joe himself the reason that man had been marked? Had he drawn attention to the holes by sneaking in? He tried not to think about that as he pleaded with O’Grady through the fence.

“C’mon, Tim! You gotta believe me! We’re Calloway kids! We stick together, don’t we?”

Joe was hoping this would be O’Grady’s secret weak spot. Captain Calloway had been less of a proper father to the both of them and more of an employer. As a result, there were many times in the boys’ lives when they had only had each other to rely on. The notion that O’Grady could abandon him completely in favour of Tiny Town was just as unthinkable as marking someone without evidence was.

“I was a Calloway kid.” O’Grady corrected him. “Now I’m a Tiny Town tiny. Look, I gotta get to dinner. It’s been a long day! Worry about getting that shiny thing, not these stories, will you?”

Just like that, O’Grady disappeared from the side of the fence and into the sea of moving shadows, leaving Joe alone with his deepening sense of unease.

-

“So how’d it go?”

“Guess Lorraine was right. There’s no reasoning with them.” Back at the Stinson House, Joe buried his hands in his pockets and strolled from the windowsill into Harry’s palm. He sat down for good measure.

“So Tiny Town really is a no-go…” Harry trailed off.

Joe sighed as he looked up at Harry, studying him. He sensed a glumness in the giant’s voice, but couldn’t place the reason why. It wasn’t until Harry spoke that Joe pieced it all together.

“Joe… do you like living here with me?” Harry asked.

The fact that Harry even raised the question was enough to break Joe’s heart. The sad look in Harry’s eyes was even worse. Joe scrambled to his feet in Harry’s still-moving hand, wishing he could see the giant eye to eye again as he had at Castle Hill.

“Of course I do! I never said I didn’t like living here. What makes you say that?” Joe blustered as panic brewed within him.

Admitting that he enjoyed life at the Stinson House was something Joe never would have dreamed of saying to Harry months earlier. Now he said it frantically, as though his life depended on it.

“Well, from the way you were talking, you seemed eager to find someplace else to go, and I know you don’t want to get marked… you were awfully rude to Lorraine about that, you know.” Harry said.

"...I know. I'm sorry." Joe said.

"Say that to her the next time you see her."

Suddenly Joe was furious with himself. Once again, he had been so intent on preserving his own dignity that he had forgotten all about the possibility of it rubbing Harry the wrong way. What a gentle creature Harry was! What a sin it was to hurt him! As Joe shifted uncomfortably in Harry’s moving palm, he realized that there was something he wanted even more than dignity.

"Harry, it's not that I don't wanna be here..." He began.

"Then what is it?" Said Harry.

“I want you.” Joe blurted out, and it was only when the words were spoken that he realized just how forward they sounded.

Harry stopped halfway through his climb up the stairs.

“…run that by me again?” The stunned giant said.

“…I wanna live with you, I mean. More than I don’t wanna be marked. See how that evens out?” Joe’s voice wavered as he sank back down into Harry’s palm and shook with embarrassment.

“Mmm…” Was Harry’s response.

The giant started climbing again.

“Really the whole thing wasn’t because of any problem with you, Harry!” Joe sputtered, digging his grave further no doubt. “It’s just… it’s hard. When the world doesn’t give you a lot of options and you have to make the best of it. Tiny Town ain’t an option, colonies ain’t an option, and you… Lorraine says I’m lucky to have you, if that means anything.”

Harry gently set Joe down on the nightstand.

“Why ain’t colonies an option?”

Joe grew feverish with fear at his question. In order to answer it, he would have to tell Harry the truth, the real truth, to reveal to the giant the secret that had cost him his family and his old community. He swallowed and took a deep breath as Harry turned away from him and slackened his tie, treating Joe to a lovely view of his broad shoulders. He admired them and hated himself for admiring them in equal measure.

“There’s something wrong with me, Harry. My old colony didn’t want me when they found out. My mom took me somewhere to make me better, but it didn’t work.” He said to those shoulders.

Their owner looked back at him, sweet and concerned as he always was.

“What’s so wrong with you that your family would abandon you like that?” Harry asked, in the delicate voice one used when someone was crying.

It seemed he had noticed the tears in Joe’s eyes even before Joe had. Harry sat back down on the edge of the bed and studied him.

"You... you wouldn't get it." Joe said.

It was the best non-answer he could muster.

The giant leaned in.

"Try me." Was all he said in response.

Harry's voice was gentle but firm. Now it was as if Joe were sitting in a portal to two universes. There was the one where he revealed his secret to Harry, and the one where he didn’t. He couldn’t tell which of the two would bring the two of them closer, but he knew which of the two was the most honest one to live in. As he weighed his options he decided that, even if what he said next ruined everything with Harry, he could at least look back at himself with the knowledge that he had told the whole truth.

“…I wanna be a pet.” Joe said out loud.

“You do?” Harry responded, and now Joe couldn’t take what he had said back.

Joe just nodded, curled into a ball in the soap dish, taking the moment in. Harry waited patiently as Joe processed what he had just said.

“Not the way a cat or a dog is a pet. I don’t mean like that.” He clarified, when the words finally came to him. “I wanna live with you giants. The way the pet tinies do. Always have. Tinies… I care about ‘em, sure, but if they all disappeared tomorrow it’d take me a minute to notice. I wanna live with you giants, and it scares me, so that’s why I was giving Lorraine so much shit. It's why I've lived alone all this time. ‘cause there’s something wrong with me, Harry.”

Joe buried his face in his hands and shook. Meanwhile, Harry said nothing. It was a silence that devastated Joe. He needed to hear something, whether it was praise or condemnation Joe did not care; the uncertainty alone bored into him like a drill press. It was paralyzing. Sickening. Maddening. All he could do was hide his head in shame and feel dirty.

Then Harry’s fingers curled around him and swept the feeling away like the waters of the Jordan. He was too afraid to open his eyes and look up as the giant gently held him in his palm. Harry’s touch filled the spaces words could not until finally he spoke.

“I don’t think that’s being a pet, Joe. We all have ways we like to live. I think that’s just being human.”

Human. Now Joe understood the point Lorraine had been trying to make with the skeletons. Whether it was with giants or tinies, Joe wanted the same thing everybody else on the planet wanted.

Joe wanted to be human.

Next part coming soon!

[selastheblue]

i wont be able to do digital art for a while because CLIP STUDIO HATES ME AND WONT LET ME RENEW MY SUBSCRIPTION!!! I HAVE THE MONEY!!!! RAGHHHHHHH