strawberry lemonade { fables I - I

C O L T

"If you needed help all you had to do was, axe." Heat erupts from somewhere deep in my chest, clawing its way up into the apples of my cheeks. The stranger's tone is softer than anticipated, lacking that steely edge I'd been taught to expect. There's still power - still a threat - in the way he moves. There's no way he's all showmanship. That striking appearance of his is meant to be a distraction. He's dangerous, no matter how hard he's trying not to look it.

If my mothers taught me anything, it was that there are no sheep in the city. This one's got to be a wolf.

Still, it's only polite to greet kindness with much of the same. His hand is comically small pressed against mine but the way he almost pulls my shoulder out of its socket with the force of his greeting dispels any comfort I might have taken in that.

"You really don't have to." His compliment - I think it's a compliment? - almost certainly brings that blush to the surface of my skin. It had been simmering since the great axe disaster, but I'm much less used to this kind of conversation than embarrassment. It's strange, but not in the 'TJ leaving a frog in my sheets' kind of way.

It makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

It's all performative sunshine, that polite smile doesn't reach his eyes. Strange that they still manage to glimmer, an overcast morning without the threat of rain. I don't know what I've gotten myself into, but it looks like I'm already elbow deep. Sink or drown or play along.

"Well I was supposed to start weapon training." The words are a low groan, rubbing my hand over my face as I survey my new work load. "Now it seems I'm just trying not to get kicked out."

I laugh in spite of myself, like I always do. "If we're going to be partners in crime, you should call me Colt."

C O L T

I can taste electricity in this summer storm, the tang of regret cutting through sweet, humid winds. He's nice but I wouldn't call him kind. Those words are saturated with laughter at my expense, clever in the way he bites down on what I don't want to hear. This is as much for his amusement as it is my benefit. I'd say I don't trust him as far as I could throw him, but given his build that's probably pretty far.

We make quick work of my mess, sinking into a comfortable silence. I catch myself glancing over at him a few times too many, he's full of those smiles I'd missed on the trek through the city. It occurs to me he's drawn more attention to us than my little mishap. Eyes bore into the back of my head, gazes both amused and disapproving.

Sorry! I find myself mouthing at a particularly disgruntled looking career, figuring I'd held him up in some way or another. My feeble wave does little to soothe his ire, so I rush to follow my curious little stranger.

Though he's offering assistance, I get the distinct impression I'm not allowed to decline. "Kind of you," I eye the balance beam dubiously "to run to the aid of a damsel in distress," Hard as I try to keep my delivery flat, a grin quirks the corner of my mouth. Always getting the better of me, those are.

"You showing off or making a fool of me?" I grab his hand, swaying a few times too many before finding my center of balance. Once I've settled, I take advantage of the place we're still connected, tugging harshly on his hand in an attempt to throw him off balance. It's only fair.

"I'm not scared, either way."


It'd be more convincing if I actually meant that, I think.

C O L T

There's a flash of something genuine, flared nostrils and a slack expression. Not a trace of that careful smile less than an arms length away. I've got a bad habit of being brave a little too quick, 'til I end up tangled a mess of all these mistakes I care so much about. But it's exhilarating that I don't even need to know his name to get under his skin. Lean into the crash, it'll hurt less that way. The hearts worn on sleeves are full of calluses.

My eyes fall to where his free hand rests on my arm and feel my grip tighten. Just enough that I can cling to this moment without him noticing. I've never thought of myself as particularly lonely person but I guess in some ways I am. It's easy to forget that there's more than the four walls i grew up in when every moment outside of them feels stolen.

He gets closer to me, maybe to prove to himself that he can. "I've got eleven siblings."

And you're one of the youngest. I bite my tongue to keep from replying, he's putting a lot of effort into this little moment and I'd hate to interrupt. The proximity is jarring, but not entirely unwelcome. Does being close to someone always feel this electric or does that have to do with the way the sun is reflecting off his eyes, gone pure liquid and something stranger.

Embarrassment is long forgotten, but the heat in my cheeks lingers.

Still, I can't help but laugh when he talks to his brother. It's so endearingly familiar, the most at home I've ever felt in the city. As if I wasn't already harboring a fondness for my new friend.

He tells me to do better and I let my head fall to the side (and ever-so-slightly forward), "Was I trying something, friend?" Ignorance is only partially feigned.

My hand feels cold when he pulls away; I must not of noticed how warm he was against my fingertips. "Ready." I give him a nod, expression falling now that I'm serious. I've climbed trees with Lotus before, but have ended up with a few too many scraped elbows to feel confident.

Heel to toe to heel again, my teeth dig into my lip. All careful concentration. I almost lose my footing a few more times than I'd like but still find myself at the finish line, grasping his shoulders to keep my balance.

"You know," I lean in, delivering the secret I'd kept safe under my tongue. It might be a little selfish of me, but I want to know if I can throw him off balance again. "I'm the oldest of seven. I don't think I have to try that hard."

I'm not close enough that he can feel my smile, but he sure as hell should feel the soft laughter that follows.

C O L T

My hands fall to my sides, knocking me ever so slightly off kilter with fists clenched and a smile so wide it aches. I'm not sure what game we're playing, but I definitely just won. He's one of those guys that's ten feet tall in spite of barely reaching my shoulder, all bright bravado until he catches sight of the shadows we're casting. I just wish I knew why the way he looks at me feels almost... frightened? Like I've done something wrong by just playing along.

"The favorite? My moms insist there's no such thing." I take a step back, more for his sake than mine. There's a split second where my heel meets nothing but air and I'm two seconds from taking a fistful of his t-shirt to keep myself afloat.

If only I were a selfish man.

Instead my shoulder checks the mat and sharp pain lances up into my neck. My vision goes white and for one, terrifying moment, I can't remember my own name. It's all impact and an ache that's anything but gentle. "I'm fine!" I shout, before I really know that I am. Forcing myself into a sitting position with one eye closed to brace against the pain. "Just... very clumsy." Considering this is the second accident I've had since we've met, I don't think that needed to be stated.

Eager to distract from this newest mishap, my tongue rushes ahead of my better judgement, "Unless you count sneaking out to train?" My expression is all embarrassment, fingers raked through sweat-slicked hair to give them something to do. "Never broke a rule. Never stayed out past curfew."

I hesitate and silence has never felt heavier, "Isn't that second part more up to you than it is me, Felix?"