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The sun feels nice. Bee hasn’t been to the wasteland in a while, and it’s nice to be so warm again. Quen and Cupid dart after each other, and Bee sits and watches. Her legs dangle over the edge of the platform and swing as she giggles at the pair. Quentin shrieks as Cupid tackles him, and Bee laughs so hard it hurts.
It’s good. This is good. Laughter and sand are carried away by the wind. Bee’s missed this kind of simple companionship.
Faer comm buzzes. Bee doesn’t want to stop watching her friends roll through the sand like children, but maybe it’s Finn, or Kian, or Angel! Maybe Bee will get to be with more of faer friends. So fae checks, and almost drops faer comm into the sand far below.
“BEE!!!” reads the message from Kark. The first Bee has seen from him in weeks. And he’s sending her a message, as if- as if it’s been a few hours asleep or with the void, not weeks of him gone without a word.
Bee kind of doesn’t want to answer. So they don’t. They put their comm back down and watch Quen and Cupid, smile a little bit more strained than it was before.
It doesn’t take very long for her comm to buzz again. “Bee, I’m home!!!!” She grits her teeth and watches her friends. Another buzz. “Bee?”
A few more minutes pass before Bee works up the courage to respond.
“sorry, been busy. welcome back!!”
“It’s okay, I just really wanted to see you. Are you home? Or at your tree?”
“at the wasteland with cupid and quen actually, sorry”
“Oh, okay.” A pause. Then, “Are you mad at me?”
And the answer is yes, isn’t it? Bee’s felt as much sadness as she could take, so now it feels like this guilty sort of anger, but the thought of doing something to hurt Kark still makes Bee feel ill. So she lies.
“no, just busy. why would i be mad?”
“I’ve been gone for a while.”
As if Bee hasn’t been aware. As if her chest hasn’t ached with every moment that he’s been gone, as if she didn’t leave books and gold and flowers and stew. Gifts that say I’m sorry, gifts that say I love you , gifts that say Please come home, I miss you so much, please don’t leave me. Gifts that feel like hope, and gifts that feel like giving up.
“ yes you have. ive really missed you. ”
Their fingers are trembling. Bee is still so guilty, still so angry and then guilty about that anger. They still feel like they are grieving. Kark is back and reaching out like nothing even happened, and part of Bee wants to do the same, The other part wants to hold onto these emotions. Not a grudge, but an allowance.
Bee is allowed to feel ugly emotions, too. It feels like everyone assumes faer kindness and optimism is easy, and not like it hurts. It’s so, so difficult to force faerself to smile, but fae does it anyway. And somehow it feels like people have taken that to mean that Bee only feels happy, and sometimes feels a little sad when something big happens.
It’s just so fucking stupid! Bee is this tangled up, walking ball of feeling, but they want everyone else to be happy so much more than they want to feel their own anger and sadness. Their want to be helpful overrides the way they express rage and despair and- and every other emotion that writhes like snakes around their lungs and heart and brain. They restrict and restrain, they choke and suffocate and hurt , but Bee chooses to express joy anyway. And now people are shocked when Bee is anything other than perfectly sweet and kind.
Fae is fucking allowed to be angry, sometimes. Fae can be angry, jealous, selfish, frustrated. Just like everyone else is allowed to be upset, Bee can be more than the helpless, optimistic damsel. That’s who fae chooses to be, but Bee can be anyone fae fucking likes. And maybe fae will feel guilty about it, like fae does now, but everyone else is allowed to feel shit like this. It’s Bee’s turn, this time. Bee is going to let faerself be fucking angry.
She puts her comm face-down, and ignores the buzzing this time. It can buzz its way off the platform, for all she cares.
Quen looks up to her and waves, and Bee can just barely make out the way he is beaming. His face is flushed a soft red, like a newly-bloomed rose. Living in the middle of the desert will do that, Bee supposes. It does something to weaken the snakes that strangle her insides. She lifts her hand and waves back, lips quirking up into a soft, genuine smile, and intentionally keeps her features all her own.