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“Can you promise me something?” Baz asks softly, feet dangling over the wooden edge of the back of the caravan as it trundles along a dirt road. Her back is pressed against the wall, painting with bright colors that leach into blues and blacks in the moonlight. The packed and hardened earth, rutted with the wheels of countless other vehicles, passes beneath her soles.
If she jumped off now, would they stop in time for her to catch back up? Would they care enough to? Or would they simply continue on, and Baz would be left behind on this little-used path forever?
Beside her, Aiko shifts, his arm pressed against hers. His warmth bleeds into her icy skin, welcome against the cold night air. “What?” His voice is just as hushed, careful not to shatter the still calm of their little vigil. It’s hardly a vigil at all, really, but whenever they have a chance, they steal away to the very end of the caravan and sit on the back, feet dangling over the edge as they watch the miles drop away behind them.
It’s a routine, soothing in its simplicity, and Baz will drink up every peaceful moment with Aiko that she can get. The world moves slower when she’s near him, allowing her a moment to breathe and relax without getting rushed from place to place. Everything is easier, around Aiko. She doesn’t feel as thinly stretched.
“Baz?” he murmurs, nudging her with his shoulder as gently as he can. She moves her elbow a fraction in response, acknowledging she heard him without saying anything. Her eyes stay fixed on the darkness around them, the black trees surrounding the thin trail they follow. The moon washes everything in its dim silver light; Baz feels it suffuse her skin, sink into her muscle and tissue. Comforting, almost as much as the boy by her side. “What is it?”
They inhale and draw upon their courage, ignoring the fear gnawing at the edges of their mind. There’s no need to be scared; it’s only Aiko. They can tell him anything. “Promise we’ll always be friends. You won’t leave me.” Their fingers twist together anxiously in their lap; he settles a warm hand over them. “Promise…we’ll stay together.”
He pushes his thumbs between their hands, forcing them apart and holding them. His thumbs swipe over their knuckles, touch gentle and hot. They turn to look at him, tucking one leg under them and letting the other continue to dangle over the edge of the caravan. Their hands are linked between them. He keeps running his thumbs over their knuckles in soothing, repetitive motions. Whatever he sees in their face when he searches it must show him how serious they are, because his brows push together. A worried wrinkle forms between them, and Baz wants to reach out and smooth it away.
His words are slow and thoughtful when he speaks. “I promise you that whatever happens, Sabrina Okonjo,” he knocks their foreheads together, and her lips twitch up in a weak version of a smile, “we will always be friends. Alright?”
“Okay,” she whispers, gaze darting to her lap. He squeezes her hands and leans down to meet her eyes again, staring at her intently.
“I will never leave you, Baz. Alright? I’ll stick by you until the very end.” He lets go of her hands, cold air rushing in to replace the warmth of his touch, and holds out his pinky. “I pinky swear.”
Baz looks at it skeptically. “A pinky swear?” she repeats.
“A pinky swear,” he echoes solemnly, not a trace of amusement in his expression. He shakes his pinky at her. “Come on. Make it legal.”
“That’s not a real thing,” she protests, but she links their pinkies together anyway. Aiko smiles at her, the seriousness clearing from his face in a single motion as he lights up. Baz smiles back, their hands still linked and drifting down to rest on the wooden floor between them.
“There,” he says softly, shifting around to lean against her side. She moves as well, adjusting herself to sink into him, cheek pressed against his shoulder. His body heat leaches into her, radiating through the right side of her body. Neither of them tries to disconnect their hands.
Baz feels a sunny glow bloom in her chest. She doesn’t believe in the binding magic of pinky promises, not for a single second—she’s seen enough actual binding magic broken to know that something as childish as linking pinkies will work. But Aiko is warm beside her, and she would be content to stay entangled with him like this forever, watching the night with the road passing away beneath their feet. She doesn’t trust their pinky promise, but she trusts him.
“You know you’re my best friend, right, Baz?” he murmurs, voice gentle and weighted with exhaustion.
Baz curls closer to him, the top of her head barely grazing his neck. His tresses brush against her forehead. “Yeah,” she hums, sleepy and comfortable. “I know.” She presses the tips of her fingers a centimeter into his palm, a weak imitation of their hand squeeze earlier. “You’re mine too.”
“I know,” Aiko whispers, so soft she barely catches it. He sounds so happy about that fact, like it’s the best thing anyone has ever told him. “I know.”
Baz drifts off like that, curled as close to Aiko as possible and wrapped up in his heat on the back of the caravan, the dusty road falling away under her feet. The moon glows faintly above them, and for the first time in a while, she feels like she isn’t alone.