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Sylvana has never had a proper autumn, unlike Padamiya just south of it, but Saphir knows what the changing colors of the temperate foliage is supposed to look like between encyclopedias he’s read, postcards Nephry has sent when the Balfours travel, and Pea-Brain’s over-the-top stories from home. He doesn’t particularly see the appeal, but every conversation he has with his peers about the wider world just goes to remind him he’s never left Keterburg. Pea-Brain, particularly, has decided that Saphir doesn’t get to have an opinion on autumn, seeing as he’s never experienced it. That’s the reason Saphir’s been giving him the cold shoulder all day. Well, a colder shoulder than usual.
Peony, infuriatingly, does not seem to notice, or if he notices, he doesn’t care. Saphir has become the object of his harassment as Jade has not been in school for the past week, whisked away to Grand Chokmah to visit the Curtisses. Saphir doesn’t see what the point is—other than Jade being an ideal candidate for the military, and the Curtisses recognizing that he’ll excel quickly through it—and instead focuses on continuing to ignore Peony, even as he pelts Saphir with crumpled up balls of paper.
After the tenth or eleventh ball bounces off his head, Saphir decides he’s had enough. “What do you want?!”
“Mr. Gneiss,” the teacher reprimands. Saphir never bothered to learn her name, nor does he care what she’s currently teaching, seeing as he taught it to himself five years ago. Still, his face inadvertently burns red, and he turns back around to face the front of the class. “I’d thank you not to create a disturbance. Others are trying to learn.”
“But Peony—!”
“Prince Peony is not distracting the rest of the class,” the teacher says. Saphir sees how her eyes nervously flit to where Peony is sitting, then to the paper around Saphir, then finally back to Saphir himself. “Please behave yourself, Mr. Gneiss.”
Saphir seethes, hunching his shoulders.
“See, you’re supposed to open the notes to read them,” Peony whispers from behind him, though it doesn’t disguise his snark. “I thought you were supposed to be smart or something.”
“Leave me alone,” Saphir hisses back. His response is the sound of crumpling paper and a twelfth projectile hitting his head. He shoots a glare over his shoulder. Peony mimes unfolding something and mouths, “Read it.”
Always one to adamantly refuse to do something that Peony demands, Saphir turns back around and continues drawing a picture of a robot smashing Peony underfoot. He’s able to ignore the rest of the series of paper balls directed at him until one hits his glasses—a recent acquisition, though he had needed them for far longer—and they fly off his face, bouncing off the floor with an unreasonably loud crack.
The look Saphir gives Peony is murderous. Peony mouths, “Oops.”
The town bell rings twice, signaling the end of the school day, and Saphir snatches his glasses from the floor before his idiot classmates can further crush them. There’s a hairline fracture along one of the lenses. Saphir’s blood boils.
“You know, if you had just read my notes, that wouldn’t have happened,” Peony points out, appearing next to Saphir.
“It wouldn’t have happened if you had just left me alone,” Saphir growls, shoving his glasses back on. Thankfully, the crack is thin enough that he can mostly ignore it, but he knows his mother will be furious. “These were new.”
Peony makes a face. “When you’ve had something for the last four months, it’s not new anymore. Besides,” he continues, not letting Saphir get a word in edgewise, “I miss Blind Saphir!”
“I don’t,” Saphir snaps. “I had headaches all the time. I kept tripping on things.”
“I know; it was hilarious,” Peony says wistfully. “I suppose all awesome things must end. Sorry about your glasses, though. You can fix them, right?”
“No, Pea-Brain, I can’t,” Saphir says. “In case you’ve forgotten, Jade is still gone.”
“And?” Peony asks.
“And the fomicry machine is at his house,” Saphir says. Peony cocks his head to the side.
“Nephry’s still here, isn’t she?” he says. “We can just ask to go home with her.”
“But—but—” Saphir splutters. “But Jade’s not here!”
Peony gives him a strange look. “So? You can work it on your own, can’t you?”
“Yes, but—Jade and I have always used it together!” Saphir says. Peony rolls his eyes, hands on his hips.
“Um, hate to break it to you, but no, you haven’t,” Peony says. “Jade’s used it plenty without you. Why do you think he wants it at his house?”
Saphir hates that Peony knows that. “Well, he probably had a good reason to!”
“You are so…” Peony mutters, then, at full volume, “Isn’t this a good reason? Unless you want to go back to being Blind Saphir.”
Saphir clenches his fists by his side. He knows if he doesn’t fix them before going home, he’s in for a world of punishment from his mother. They really were unreasonably expensive. “Fine.”
“Great!” Peony grabs Saphir by the arm and all but drags him out of the classroom. Nephry isn’t hard to find, though she frowns when she sees Saphir flailing behind Peony.
“Peony, you weren’t making fun of Saphir again, were you?” she asks disapprovingly.
“He broke my glasses!” Saphir accuses, wrenching his arm out of Peony’s grip.
“On accident!” Peony insists. “Lorelei willed it!”
Nephry’s frown deepens. “That’s still not very nice.”
“Well, to be fair, Saphir is very annoying,” Peony says. Saphir aims a kick at his leg, but Peony expertly dodges out of the way. “Ha! Too slow, jerk!”
“You’re the jerk!”
“I think you’re both jerks,” Nephry says. After a moment of consideration, she says, “Peony’s probably a bigger one, though.”
Peony dramatically clutches at his chest. “I’m hurt! I’m positively wounded!”
Nephry giggles at that, so she can’t think he’s that much of a jerk, all things considered. Saphir glares at Peony, who isn’t looking at him.
“Miss Balfour,” Peony says grandly. “We are in need of the fomicry machine that Jade keeps within your abode so that we may repair Saphir’s spectacles, lest he be impaired for life by his subpar eyesight.”
Nephry laughs again. “You sound so dumb when you talk like that.”
Peony grins. “You should tell my tutors that. Maybe they’ll finally stop giving me court speech lessons.”
“I think I know where it is. Do you want to walk home with me?” Nephry asks.
“Perfect!” Peony exclaims. “Your help is superbly appreciated, and you have my deepest, sincerest thanks.” He dramatically bows.
“Most sincere,” Saphir snidely corrects. “‘Sincerest’ sounds childish.”
“Shut it, Saphir,” Peony says. “You’ve never even experienced autumn. You don’t get to correct my fake royal-speak.”
Saphir has half a mind to leave then and there, but he does want to create a copy of his glasses. “As if autumn’s so great.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Peony says the words flippantly, and it only enrages Saphir further. “C’mon, we’re wasting time! Rem’s already setting.”
The Balfours home isn’t terribly far from the school on foot—nothing in Keterburg is terribly far from anything else. Saphir is still somewhat convinced that Pea-Brain will hate not being waited on hand-and-foot, but he takes more delight in running around outside than Saphir, who shivers angrily the entire way there while Nephry and Peony chatter away. His breath fogs up his glasses, making him even more miserable. His two companions don’t seem to notice. Peony, at least, doesn’t take part in one of his favorite pastimes of pelting Saphir with snowballs. Perhaps he sated his urge with the plethora of notes he had thrown earlier.
Finally, they reach the Balfours home, and Nephry unlocks the door with the small key she keeps around her neck. “It’s in Jade’s room. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you two coming up.”
Saphir has been friends with Jade for a good seven years at this point, so he highly doubts that. However, Jade isn’t there, and Saphir does want to repair his glasses, so he places his principles on hold for the moment. Peony seems to take Nephry’s words at face value. “Awesome!”
Peony all but bounds up the stairs, Nephry in swift pursuit and Saphir, once again, bringing up the rear. By the time he’s reached Jade’s room, Nephry is sitting cross-legged on Jade’s bed and Peony is poking at the fomicry machine on his desk.
“Don’t touch that!” Saphir snaps, a wave of protectiveness rushing over him. He all but shoves Peony away from the machine, defensively placing himself between it and Peony.
“Lorelei, I was just looking at it,” Peony complains. “I’m not gonna break it from just looking at it.”
“If anyone could, it would be you,” Saphir says, glaring at Peony. “It’s very delicate.”
Peony rolls his eyes and turns to Nephry. Saphir focuses on operating the machine. He sets his glasses down on it, twisting the dials one way and another, calibrating it properly to extract his glasses’ replica data. Peony continues to idly chat in the background, and Saphir tries to ignore him.
“You should hang out with us after this,” he hears Peony say. “I’m going to Saphir’s house for the first time.”
Saphir whirls around as Nephry says “Really?”
“Yup,” Peony says.
“No,” Saphir says, horrified at the idea of Peony knowing where he lives. He’d never know peace again. “No, you’re not.”
Peony raises his eyebrows. “And how, pray tell, are you going to stop me, my dear, four-eyed friend?”
“Peony,” Nephry says, her voice quiet. “You shouldn’t invite yourself over if Saphir doesn’t want you there.”
“Of course he wants me there!” Peony says confidently, striding up to Saphir and swinging his arm around his shoulders. “Saphir and me are great friends!”
“Get off of me, you cretin—” Saphir says, trying to push him away, but Peony tightens his grip, essentially placing Saphir in a headlock. Saphir struggles against him, but Peony just laughs, readjusting his position to keep a grip on the flailing Saphir.
“Guys, be careful, or you’ll knock over the—!”
Nephry’s worried voice comes too late, and she’s interrupted by the sound of a crash as the fomicry machine tumbles to the floor. Saphir’s stomach drops, and Peony’s face turns ashen.
“Shit,” Peony whispers.
Saphir doesn’t know if he or Peony caused the machine to ultimately fall, but he does know who he’s going to blame. His eyes inadvertently fill with tears out of frustration and anger. Peony, horribly, takes notice.
“C’mon, Saphir, don’t be such a girl, I’m sure we can—” is as far as he gets before Saphir bites down on his arm, hard. Peony shrieks. Saphir tastes blood for a second before he’s released and shoved away from Peony, who clutches at his arm.
“What is wrong with you, you little freak—?!”
“You broke the fomicry machine! Jade’s going to be furious with you—!”
“We broke the fomicry machine, genius, if anything, he’s going to be more mad at you than me—”
“I knew this would happen, I never should have let you anywhere near it—” Saphir rants, then notices a glimmer of light among the dented fomicry machine. He bends down and picks up his glasses, a second, much more noticeable fracture running through the right lens. His hands are shaking. He’s going to kill Peony.
“You can fix it, right, Saphir?” Nephry asks nervously, interrupting his bloodlust. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
Saphir shoves his glasses back on and crouches by the machine, picking it up with some effort to investigate the damage. Nephry isn’t entirely wrong, though he knows she said it just to stop him from tackling Peony. “I’ll have to bring this home.”
“I can help,” Peony immediately offers.
“I think you’ve helped plenty,” Saphir says poisonously. Peony frowns.
“I meant with, like, carrying it and stuff,” Peony says. “You look like you’re about to fall over just holding it. If you drop it, it’s only gonna get worse.”
Saphir clutches the fomicry machine even tighter, swaying a bit on his feet from its weight. He doesn’t want Peony anywhere near it.
“And I’ll tell everyone that you bit me,” Peony adds, rubbing at his arm again. “Yulia and Daath, dude. I bet that’s a night in jail, at least.”
“Fine,” Saphir spits. He wouldn’t care if he spent the night in jail—biting Peony was more than worth it—but he wouldn’t want to explain to his mother why he didn’t come home, or (a horrifying thought occurs to him) tell Jade what he’d done. “And you have to promise to not tell Jade.”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna tell him that we broke the machine,” Peony says sarcastically.
“I meant about me biting you,” Saphir says. “You can’t tell him.”
“Oh, you don’t want him to know you’re crazy? He’s already aware,” Peony says.
“C’mon, Peony,” Nephry says softly. Peony looks at her incredulously.
“You’re taking the side of the biter? Is everyone crazy?” he asks. Nephry’s expression doesn’t change. He throws up his hands. “Fine! Whatever! It’s our little secret!”
Saphir doesn’t entirely believe Peony, but he also doesn’t have much of a choice. Even if Peony wasn’t lording Saphir’s actions over his head, Saphir doubts he would have much luck shaking him—much less while lugging the fomicry machine around with him.
“Hey,” Peony says, snapping his fingers to get Saphir’s attention, and then holds out his hands expectantly. “Let me take that. You seriously look like your arms are gonna break off any second.”
Saphir hesitates, but carefully gives him the fomicry machine, though he maintains his grip on it. Peony tries to pull it away, but Saphir holds tight. Peony groans. With one swift movement, he’s yanked it away from Saphir entirely. Saphir yelps.
“Be careful—!”
“Don’t blow a gasket, Saphir, it’s fine,” Peony huffs, holding the fomicry machine out of Saphir’s reach. He flashes a grin at Nephry. “Miss Balfour, you’ve been nothing but helpful.”
“Be nice to Saphir,” Nephry says with a frown, standing up and walking out of Jade’s room.
“When am I ever not?” Peony asks airily, then turns to Saphir. “Let’s go, freak, the sooner we get to your place, the sooner your skinny little hands can fix this thing.”
(Saphir wonders how long it would take Peony to drop the fomicry machine with Saphir’s skinny little hands wrapped around his neck.)
“Just keep up,” Saphir says with a scowl.
“Big words coming from the slowest runner in Keterburg,” Peony says with a snort.
Saphir lives some distance away from the Balfours, and he tries to not look at Peony as the houses get smaller and closer together. He doesn’t need Peony’s judgment, on top of everything else. Peony, however, seems keen to talk non-stop the entire time, regardless of Saphir’s lack of replying.
“I’ve never been to this part of town,” he chatters. “It’s cool! What’s it like having neighbors? Do you ever have to go across the street to borrow sugar, or is that something they made up for magazines? Has Jade ever been here? Woah, the forest is right there!”
Saphir grits his teeth and tries to tune Peony out. And he says that I’m annoying.
Finally, they reach Saphir’s house. Peony continues walking for a moment before he realizes that Saphir has stopped, then spins on his heel to pivot. Saphir unlocks the door and Peony lowly whistles behind him.
“Shut up,” Saphir says preemptively.
“I didn’t even say anything—”
“And take off your shoes,” Saphir orders, doing so himself. “I don’t want you tracking in snow.”
Peony groans, but sets down the fomicry machine and does as he’s told. Saphir takes the opportunity to pick it up and hoists it over his head, inspecting the bottom of it.
“Be careful that you don’t fall over,” Peony says, wresting off his other shoe.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Saphir says. The damage isn’t all that bad—he suspects a wire snapped when it fell, and replacing it won’t take too long. He sets it back down and crosses his arms, looking down his nose at Peony. “Here’s what you’re going to do: nothing. Don’t talk to me, don’t ask me stupid questions, don’t ‘try to help.’ Just leave me alone.”
“Okay, bossy,” Peony grumbles. He pops back up and glances around, and Saphir focuses on the fomicry machine.
He pokes at the dented side of the machine, twisting the screw that had come loose until it’s completely free. The remainder of the screws remain in place, and Saphir quickly walks into his kitchen, grabbing a flat-head screwdriver, a hammer, and a piece of chalk from the drawer where his mother keeps a variety of tools. He swiftly removes the rest of the screws and places the free metal siding on the table. That shouldn’t be too hard to straighten, though Saphir worries that there will be noticeable marks.
Focus, he tells himself. It’s going to be way more obvious if Jade realizes it doesn’t work.
He draws a Fifth Fonon rune on the metal plating so it can begin to soften and turns the fomicry machine on its side so he can inspect the interior. His suspicions are confirmed—he can see two broken wires, as well as a long crack leading to a conspicuous hole in the interior bulb of the machine. Saphir frowns. That won’t be as simple to fix as the wiring.
He carefully unscrews the bulb, hissing as he nicks his finger on the broken glass. Undaunted, he shoves his finger in his mouth to staunch the bleeding, focused on the bulb. Jade had provided most of the materials needed for the machine, but as he looks at the bulb, Saphir thinks he knows where to find a near perfect replacement.
Hopefully, Saphir thinks to himself, swapping the broken bulb for the last spare within a box his mother keeps at the top of the closet, Mama won’t need this for a few years.
Once he’s secured the new bulb, it only takes a few minutes to replace it and mend the wiring, though he does singe his fingers while doing so—Saphir would love a pair of fire-retardant gloves, but he makes do without. It’s only after he’s hammered the siding of the machine back into shape and screwed it back in place that he realizes he hasn’t seen or heard Peony in nearly a half hour. Of course, Saphir hadn’t wanted to hear Peony, but not knowing his exact location was downright concerning.
“Pea-Brain?” Saphir calls out suspiciously. He hears a clatter from the direction of his bedroom, and Saphir all but sprints towards it. Peony is lying on his back on Saphir’s bed, holding a familiar journal above his face. His eyes widen as he sees Saphir.
“I’m going to kill you,” Saphir whispers, arms shaking.
“Now, before you do anything rash, remember that you told me to be quiet,” Peony says. “You never told me not to snoop.” He flips a page in the journal. “You know, you write about Jade a lot.”
Saphir launches himself at Peony with the fury of a Glasruda, managing to land one solid punch (indicated less so by Saphir’s fist hitting Peony’s body and more so by Peony’s offended, “Ow?!”) before Peony kicks him off. Saphir plans to retaliate in full, but as soon as he gets back on his feet, Peony sweeps his legs out from under him and sits on his back.
“I’m actually really grateful for you, Saphir. You keep me in practice,” Peony says fondly.
“You’re the worst!”
“Actually, you’ll find I’m the best,” Peony says. Saphir tries to get up, to no avail. Peony feels like a ton of bricks on him.
“What do you even eat?” Saphir complains. He twists his arm to attempt to scratch at Peony, but Peony just grabs it and adjusts his position so he’s sitting on it, too.
“Yulia, dude, anything and everything. I’m so hungry all the time. I could eat a horse right now,” Peony says. “Hopefully it means I’m hitting another growth spurt soon. It’ll make it that much easier to keep doing this.”
“You are the worst!”
“And you’re sounding like a broken record,” Peony says with a yawn. Saphir hears the sound of pages being flipped above him. “You know, in between the pages where you drool over Jade, you’ve got some pretty nifty ideas.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
“Like the fonic capability enhancer? That would be so cool, especially for people who can’t use fonic artes as well,” Peony says, unbothered by Saphir. “Why don’t you try to make that?”
“It’s not cool,” Saphir insists. “It’s just a waste of time. Fomicry comes first.”
Something in the way Peony shifts on top of him tells Saphir that he’s frowning. “I guess.”
“Me and Jade are going to bring Professor Nebilim back, just you wait and see!” Saphir insists, trying to twist his body so he can glare at Peony, to no avail. “And then everything will go back to normal, and he’ll stop hanging out with the likes of you.”
Peony snorts. “Yeah, Saphir, I’m sure that last part is gonna happen.” Saphir heard another page being flipped. “You know, even if I had ‘stolen’ Jade from you initially, which I totally didn’t, I don’t think it would still count as an active ‘stealing.’ I’ve been here for five years. It’s possible to have more than one friend. For example, you and me.”
“I am not your friend.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why’d you invite me to your house?”
“You invited yourself, you moron!” Saphir once again struggles to dislodge Peony, failing miserably. “Not to mention you’re sitting on me! Friends don’t do that!”
“I’d like to point out that this is far nicer than half the things Jade has put you through,” Peony says, craning his head down to look at Saphir. He raises his eyebrows. “Really makes you think, huh?”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Pea-Brain!” Saphir snaps.
“You’re just mad because—” Peony begins, but is cut off by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.
“Saphir!” his mother calls. “I’m home!”
Peony jumps off of Saphir immediately and forcefully hoists him to his feet.
“What are you doing—?!”
“Are you kidding, your mom is terrifying—”
“Saphir?” his mother calls again, walking over to his room and blinking down at the two of them. “You didn’t tell me that—” She stops, narrowing her eyes, and cranes down to look at Saphir’s face. “Are your glasses cracked?!”
“Um,” Saphir says, heart pounding.
“For Yulia’s sake, Saphir, those were new!” his mother says, her voice pitching upwards. “Did you even think before running off and—and wasting all our money—”
“Mama, I was going to fix them—”
“—I’m tired of your excuses, these aren’t some clothes you can just mend—”
“But—”
“Ms. Gneiss?”
Saphir’s mother stops abruptly, looking at Peony. Saphir has half a mind to elbow him, but he can’t imagine that’ll put him back in the good graces of his mother. Peony, to his credit, looks far more scared that Saphir feels. His mouth hangs open slightly, silently forming words.
“Yes?” Saphir’s mother asks. “What is it?”
“I, um,” Peony stammers. “It was my fault.”
“What was your fault?” Saphir’s mother asks, sounding more impatient.
“Breaking Saphir’s glasses,” Peony says, wincing. “That was my fault.”
Saphir’s mother opens her mouth, then closes it. Her jaw is tense, her eyes hard. “I’m not completely unaware of how you treat Saphir, Prince Peony.”
“Mama,” Saphir hisses, embarrassed beyond words.
“I really didn’t mean to do it, and I feel really bad about it, and I know that doesn’t make it okay, but—Saphir really can fix them!” Peony insists, still looking terrified. “And even if he can’t, I can pay for them, because it really, really wasn’t his fault.”
Saphir’s mother looks at him for a moment more, turning something over in her mind, then sighs. All of her anger deflates out of her in that exhale—or, at least, dissipates for the time being. “Thank you for telling me.” She continues to look at Peony, frowning. “Are you bleeding?”
“Oh. Um. Yes?” Peony says. He glances at Saphir, who glares at him. “A—uh—wild animal bit me.”
Saphir’s glare nearly becomes a snarl. The urge to elbow Peony returns tenfold, but then his mother would certainly know something was amiss, and he doesn’t think he can get out of trouble for biting the emperor’s son as easily as his cracked glasses.
“We need to put a bandage on that,” his mother says, all business. “Saphir, you really should know better. This isn’t how you treat a guest.”
“It’s not like he asked for a bandage,” Saphir complains.
“That is not the excuse you think it is,” his mother says flatly. “Both of you, come with me.”
Saphir and Peony meekly follow her, and Saphir leans against the wall, scowling as his mother dabs some rubbing alcohol on Peony’s arm, then wraps it.
“A doctor should really look at this,” she says. “Wild animals carry all sorts of diseases. How long have you lived in Keterburg, now?”
“Um—”
“Long enough to know better, I imagine,” she says, not stopping her train of thought. “And what were you doing, Saphir? Did you try to help Prince Peony?”
“Saphir hid behind a tree,” Peony says promptly before Saphir can think of a good lie. “And you don’t need to call me that, Ms. Gneiss. Just plain ol’ Peony is fine.”
“Hm.” She finishes tying off the bandage. “There you are.”
“Thanks!” Peony chirps. He glances at Saphir. “Wanna fix your glasses now?”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Saphir asks snidely.
“Saphir!” his mother warns. “Not how we talk to guests.”
“C’mon, you spent all that time fixing the fomicry machine, I wanna make sure it was worth it,” Peony says, slinging his arm around Saphir’s shoulders.
“Will you be staying for dinner?” Saphir’s mother asks.
“No—” Saphir begins, horrified, but Peony’s eyes widen to nearly comical proportions as he earnestly asks, “Could I really?”
“It’s no trouble,” Saphir’s mother says. “Isn’t that right, Saphir?”
Saphir feels like he’s in his own personal hell. “But—!”
“Right, Saphir?” his mother repeats coldly, offering no room for argument.
Saphir grits his teeth. He glares at Peony. Peony beams at him.
“Fine,” he says, grounding the words out. No sooner has he said them that Peony grabs his arm and yanks him out of the kitchen, calling behind him, “Thank you so much, Ms. Gneiss!”
“Your mom is so fucking scary,” he whispers to Saphir. “I thought she was gonna kill me.”
“My mom wouldn’t kill you, idiot,” Saphir hisses back.
“It’s called being dramatic, Saphir, you should understand the concept, being the person you are,” Peony says, rolling his eyes. “Now make with the fomicry, or she will kill me.”
Saphir glares at him, but takes the fomicry machine and brings it into his room, Peony following right after. He places his glasses on the machine and turns it on. In seconds, there’s a bright flash and a second, non-cracked pair of glasses appears on the fomicry machine. Saphir breathes a silent sigh of relief, placing his new, replicated glasses on his face.
“Da da-da-da!” Peony crows. “Told you you could do it!”
“You didn’t need to tell me anything, I knew I could do it,” Saphir says, though he’s secretly grateful that the fomicry machine is functioning perfectly again.
“Now we can just hang out,” Peony says, jumping back to land on Saphir’s bed with a soft thump. “Which is what I wanted to do in the first place.”
Saphir scowls at him. He doesn’t believe him for a second. “I don’t want to hang out with you.”
“That’s too bad, because I want to hang out with you,” Peony says. “Now you know how Jade feels.”
Saphir’s face goes red with anger. “Jade likes spending time with me!”
Peony frowns. He crosses his arms. “Why do you like him so much?” Saphir opens his mouth to launch into a speech about all of Jade’s virtues that Peony is apparently too ignorant to notice, but Peony quickly rephrases, “Why do you like him so much more than me?”
(If Saphir didn’t know better, he would think Peony sounded genuinely hurt—but Saphir does know better, and he won’t fall for such an obvious ploy.)
“You must be stupider than you look if you don’t know why,” Saphir sneers.
“More stupid,” Peony mutters. “‘Stupider’ sounds childish.”
Saphir doesn’t enjoy having his own turn of phrase used against him. He goes even further beet-red. “Well—it fits you perfectly, then!”
Peony crosses his arms. “You know, according to your diary, I don’t hurt your feelings half as badly as Jade does.”
“Invading my privacy—!”
“That’s what friends do!” Peony exclaims, a note of frustration in his voice. “Friends are supposed to know everything about each other!”
“I am not your friend!”
“Well, I’m yours!” Peony yells angrily, standing up. “Whether you like it or not! Who else is gonna keep you safe from Jade, huh?!”
Saphir snarls. “Jade’s my best friend.”
“Jade’s gonna kill you one of these days if you’re not careful,” Peony spits. “And I feel crazy that I’m the only person who seems to realize it.”
Saphir screws his face into an expression of hatred. He won’t dignify Peony with a response. He doesn’t understand anything at all. He’s just a stupid, spoiled prince.
After a few tense moments, Peony sighs, slumping down onto the floor. He runs his hands through his hair. “I really don’t understand you sometimes, Saphir.”
He doesn’t say anything else to Saphir, and neither does Saphir to him. Saphir’s mother calls them for dinner and Saphir eats silently as Peony dazzles her, and he puts on a facade to pretend like nothing is wrong, to take another person away from Saphir. His glasses are whole. His mother doesn’t comment. Peony leaves with an extravagant bow to Saphir’s mother, insisting he doesn’t need an escort back to his mansion. A blank expression overtakes his features when he turns to Saphir, but only for a moment, and then he broadly grins and gives a parting salute with two fingers.
“I like that one,” his mother murmurs, watching him run back to his home. “I’d much prefer you spend more time with him than the Balfour child, darling.”
Saphir bites the inside of his cheek so hard he draws blood. It doesn’t taste so different from Peony’s.