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Aprendiz carefully chose a movie, so that they could sit together and talk about nothing, and be haunted by none of their ghosts. Of course, this means the movie has to be impossibly boring – it doesn’t feel like asking if Praga’s in the mood for exposure therapy, so any sort of fantasy or magic is a no. Thankfully, he’s recently discovered that they’re both interested in nature documentaries – though Praga is more genuinely curious while Aprendiz likes seeing the science they use to try to explain clearly magical phenomena he’s read about for almost a decade.
Praga arrives with his hospitable peace offering – “You bring the hot water, I’ll bring the tea bags,” Ren said the first time they made a plan – one of the only things Praga prioritized for their new condo was an electric kettle, but he didn’t know what types of tea to buy. So, Ren picked. And when it had Praga over, it was the other way around. A tradition for them to build a life on – they’ve been dating for three years now, known each other for a decade and a half. Yet they’re only really starting to get to know each other. Aprendiz thought Praga was just sheltered, maybe from far away, too, and that’s fair, we’ve all been there, but it never could’ve expected that he knows more about Praga than he actually knows. It’s been trying to find texts about the Meridiem mortal demons past the year 2000, or proof of their disappearance at all. Praga hasn’t told it all of the details, and he doesn’t expect them to, but it’s a start.
And one that can wait. “--It’s the creation of the satin Bowerbird–” They’re watching a David Attenborough documentary about birds of paradise while sipping raspberry green tea, when Aprendiz leans on Praga’s shoulder, feeling him breathe and feeling so glad that despite his whole family situation and the fact that he really shouldn’t be here, he is. And they’re right beside him, as human as he could ever be. Praga places his arm over Ren’s shoulder, gently reminding it that it’s safe here for the both of them, that Praga’s himself and glad to learn who that is with him. It never doesn’t feel special to be beside him.
Praga plants a kiss on the top of his partner’s head, and mumbles something about “Remember your hair in high school? The blue in their feathers – it reminds me of you.” He laughs and responds with “Well, y’know. That’s how they attract a mate.” Praga laughs deep in his throat and responds with “Fond of green, hm. You have to redy it soon, yeah?” and Ren nods gently before adjusting itself to rest its head on his lap. His curls brush against Praga’s stomach with just enough pressure to hurt.
When his scars hurt, though, they hurt deep. He remembers the weight of the world, all searing and hot and pressing down on his stomach like it was trying to push the life out of him – and they remember that it almost succeeded. Outside of that, he doesn’t remember much, and they’re only somewhat glad for the fact that Praga’s mother’s last words don’t repeat in his mind.
“--He chews up leaves and smears the pulp over the inside walls–” Praga tries to focus on the documentary – everything else was so long ago, it should be dead, gone, and buried right now. But the mortal demons of Meridiem aren’t dead, they sit right behind consiousness, and the only caster who could’ve done better is gone now. He remembers the pulp of his own stomach, putting his hand to the wound and it smearing red and brown. He bleeds the same blood as he did then, that’s one thing that didn’t change. He can’t remember the exact scale to which it hurts. Sure, he can describe it, but the feeling has been changed out with every cell that replaces itself and every hour he sleeps and every time he conceals his discolored schlerae with glasses that tint his vision. With every second that he becomes more human and the goal stretches itself further away.
Aprendiz is right there. Aprendiz can’t see him like this, then Praga will have to miss work tomorrow and explain everything and ruin the documentary. The bird on the screen sees another and hops towards it. The colors feel flat, and Praga squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe they can pass it off as being tired, and Ren will help him stay awake and then it’ll be too tired and Praga will say ‘yeah sure, you can look at your books’ and they’ll leave and just let himself sleep for the first time this week, even though it’ll be worse that way. At least in sleep, something will actually be trying to hurt them and Praga won’t have to panic over nothing. He can look and act human all he wants, but as soon as their head hits the pillow, it’s what the nature documentaries would call ‘lizard brain’ and what Praga would call completely and entirely wrong.
“--Here she is. Walking into the avenue is a strong hint that she is interested–” Praga’s memories play in tune with the British voice on the TV. His mom’s mom comes in, and her form is blurry like he’s just woken up – before his dreams were a rush trying to pull him out of his body or make it so he can’t stand it any more and tears the necklace off himself. He won’t do it – he knows there’s nowhere to go, so they don’t sleep. But he was told to go to bed when the meridiem matriarch came to tell Miriya Hunter that what she believed was wrong, that humans shouldn’t have magic and that fighting for it will only lead to the loss of spellcasting as a medium, and if she can’t convince her daughter, than maybe her granddaughter won’t grow up to be like her mother. But Praga ran down the stairs when he felt that magic tightening the air. They can’t remember what anyone said, or how they were noticed.
He pulls away from the human mage that shouldn’t exist nor care as much as it does. “--and that’s reckless, bearing in mind the family’s tendency to–” And he ran in front of his mom, so he wouldn’t be stolen from her protective, calloused hands that kept him tied down to the powers he never got a chance to learn.
When Praga says he doesn’t remember how much it hurts, he means he can’t remember how he felt. He sure remembers how it felt – telling doctors for months after they got their new body that it was a seven. He remembers the way his eyes narrowed and they took in a shallow breath and Miriya stood over his supine form as the air tensed.
They’ve felt magic since – when Ren keeps him tied down or protected using something from its books. Though the flesh is different, the sizzle that surrounds it and traps it feels the same, tracing his ears and pressing the top of their head like a forgery of brand new energy. It might be the love talking, but Aprendiz is as natural a caster as any demon – at least he’s pretty sure.
They can feel it now, and hear Ren talking to him – what’s he saying? His voice mixes with the TV, they’re all behind mufflers and Praga’s swimming in his own head until the air sweetens and burns beside him, and then they’re talking over everything else.
“-My mom – Miriya Hunter – she cast two spells to save my life – she banished all of the – the mortal demons to their own plane, metaphysical or something, then I was human so that I didn’t come with them, I don’t remember very well what she said, or when she died – she didn’t join them there where my dreams are, I just remember lying on my back and it hurt, it hurt so much, the magic digging its claws into me like it was supposed to be mine-” and then his ears stop ringing and Aprendiz is saying “Sorry. I – I wanted to help you, and you weren’t answering me. I know how you feel about magic. I shouldn’t have cast a spell on you.” Praga says “it’s fine,” a spell is what saved his life after all. And what a hell of a life it is.
Praga clutches his necklace, not like he’s going to take it off, but protecting it. He deserves protection – his mom taught him that and never lived to see it continued. Aprendiz is safe, wants Praga to be safe, and yet Praga can almost hear his thoughts racing – Ren doesn’t think he’s good enough, it can’t help Praga with his baggage and racing heart and unraveling all over the place. But he brings the teabags for Praga’s hot water, lets him sit and think and be afraid.
They turn the TV off and cry together and Praga can’t stop saying “thank you,” and “I’m sorry,” and this somehow feels more like home than the place Praga wishes he never had to leave.
There are some things that shouldn’t be real – demons that turn into humans and humans that steal from demons and a home where nobody can swallow sleep down. But it’s real, and the two are grateful they’re still breathing.