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Sometimes on a hunt, one of the dogs will give pause, lingering behind the others. She is frozen, her eyes riveted on one spot in the distance. I have known my dogs for a long time, and I trust their judgment, yet, sometimes I don’t understand. I see nothing, only the wind as it blows on its eternal course. Yet she still stares out. I do concede that she may be able to see things I cannot see. But alas, I do not hunt for ghostly things. I search for what I can see before me. So I snap my fingers and she returns to my heel.
It had been bothering me all this time, but I knew it was impolite to ask. Father always praised my inquisitive nature, but warned me that I cannot cross the boundaries of others. Still, it hurt me that Kaeya had never shown me all of his face, and it grew more unbearable as time passed. I hated that there was a part of him I could not see. Was it that he didn’t trust me? We shared everything else, or, at least I knew I did. For any other person, the exposure would wither me, but with Kaeya, I could trust that it was in good hands. All I wanted, all I hoped for, was that he could feel the same.
There was no moon that night, and I walked silently over to the edge of Kaeya’s bed. First, I had to check if he was awake.
“Kaeya.”
He did not stir, lying on his back. He was so still, he could’ve been a corpse.
My heart began to race. “Kaeya?”
Still nothing. Some part of me hoped he would awaken and I would be free of my temptation.
Now I was too far. I had no choice but to commit the sin. Gently, I lifted the edge of the bandage that was covering his eye.
You knock twice. You knock three times. I glance up at the door. Why do you bother to knock? We will perform our perpetual dance of your request, my refusal, and your entry regardless. So this time I do not answer. When you enter, I look back down at the polished wood. Though I’m not looking at you, you’re a bright light shining through my eyelids, impossible to ignore. You have always been something much larger than yourself, a great, beautiful, formless energy, even through my attempts to convince myself you are just another person.
I saw what I least expected. An eyelid, shut for sleeping, identical to his other eye. His skin was smooth like the rest of his face.
I blinked several times, then I let the bandage fall back over it. I did not understand. As far as I could tell, there was nothing wrong with it.
I would have been wracked with guilt for my transgression, but instead, confusion began to boil in my chest as I slipped back into my bed.
I expected something twisted and ugly. Why? Why would he conceal it like this?
There had to be a reason. Maybe….maybe his eye was clouded over, or it could not move. But I could not think of something so extreme that he couldn’t show me. We compared scars all the time.
I had worsened my curse. My curiosity began to mix with doubt. I did my best to push it away. I know there are always things I cannot see, but that answer never satisfied me. Chasing shadows quells no fires.
After a moment of your scrutiny, you approach. One eye is enough. It is sharp and cold, but more like the ice that rattles in a glass than the harsh hand of winter. “Why are you doing that?” I can feel your hand gesture at me. I wipe the sweat from my temple with the back of my hand. My nails are stained with varnish.
I know you won’t, so I acquiesce. “What?” I feel as if I haven’t spoken for days, though I had only just closed the doors.
“Any number of people could be doing that for you.” You step up to the counter, leaning on it with your elbow. I decide not to remind you that it may still be wet. Your presence is deafening, echoing louder and louder in my head.
“I don’t mind.” I don’t look at you. I only see your fingers as they tap on the wood. Your nails are clean, but I can see the fray where you hold your sword. Some adornment on your glove glints in the light.
“You don’t want to have workers’ hands, now, don’t you?” I can feel you tilt your head to the side, smiling. “That would be a shame.” You reach over to catch one of my hands before I could move away. Your thumb brushes across my palm. I shiver.
I rip my hand away and shut my eyes for a long moment. “Why would anyone care about that?” I refuse to raise my voice. Why do you always insist on returning here? You’d already spent my patience when the bar was open. Anyway, you could clearly see my gloves across from you on the counter. “Anything wrong with my hands would have been caused by you.”
I failed at striking a nerve. “Hm.” You tilt your head further to the side, humming, and your hair spills over your shoulder. You are emboldened by my frustration. “Ahaha, well. I can’t argue with that.”
I discard the rag in my hand. “You’re drunk. Go home, unless you want me to lock you in here alone.” But I knew the order was futile.