#graywrites

Then again, his experience had consisted largely of lying bloody and beaten in the gutters, trying to fend for himself and failing at it miserably.

He still could never picture himself awing over something as trivial as a dress in a shop display.

But it was no surprise when Rilla suddenly grabbed hold of his hand with a soft gasp of adoration. “Can we go in there?”

Kaspar looked to where she was pointing and inwardly grimaced. A shop across the street that was tucked into a cranny between a secondhand clothing store and an office building. The blue paint and awning stood out like a sore thumb amidst the city’s uniform griminess. Cakes and cookies sat behind a sheet of old glass with the title Sen’s Bakery printed across the top. 

"It’s just another generic bakery, Ril," Kaspar said. "The bread won’t taste any better than what we just bought at the market." 

"But I’ve never been in one before," she whined, tugging at his hand. "Please, Kaspar? I just want to see it."

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. I guess we can step in for a minute.”

The little girl’s face lit up instantly, and Kaspar was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the trill of warmth that suddenly flooded his chest at the sight of it. Seeing her happy gave him a strange sense of satisfaction, one that he had yet to glean from any other source. It was getting harder and harder to say no to anything she asked him for, and that was concerning. 

He probably should’ve felt worse about the fact that she talked him into buying two pastries and a box of fudge. 

As it was, he watched her skip out of the shop, tiny arms wrapped tightly around the paper bag, with a small smile on his lips and only a little regret.

They were almost halfway home when Rilla suddenly looked up at him and grabbed onto his coat. “Wait, wait, wait!”

Kaspar stopped, confused. “Wha—?”

She yanked him down with impressive strength, almost causing the groceries in his arms to go spilling over the sidewalk. Then her small hands were brushing through his hair furiously.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. 

"Hold still. Your ears are showing again."

He blinked. It was the second time she’d done this today. Usually he didn’t even think about the matter of his ears, but she seemed dead set on making sure they remained covered at all times. It was a good thing, actually, because he never would have remembered to check himself. His carelessness had gotten him in trouble for many things before, and it was a miracle he hadn’t been discovered already—a fact Rilla liked to remind him of often. 

Kaspar wasn’t used to having someone look after him like this. He watched her tongue poke against the inside of her cheek as she concentrated on maneuvering bleached locks of hair to adequately cover his ears and felt an inexplicably strong swell of gratitude. 

Maybe this was why he liked making her happy so much. 

Kaspar’s eyelids slid shut over rolling irises, but his feet came to a slow halt. Neon lights from electronic billboards pulsed over pitch-black asphalt and lit up lingering puddles of rainwater with flashes of gaudy reds and blues and yellows, like rhythmic fireworks. The thick city crowd flowed past Kaspar in a never-ending stream, parting around him as he stood still in the midst of it like water around a boulder, and all blessedly kept their eyes on their own shoes. The neon hues danced against skin and hair in dulled tints, stealing away natural color and making his eyes ache. Several different bass lines from tacky pop songs pounded out from the clubs and bars in the basements below the sidewalks, and just became clashing, mismatched beats that played in the background of Kaspar’s growing headache.

  He lifted a hand to rub at his forehead as the patter of little feet came plodding up from behind.

  Why was this his problem?

  “Don’t walk so fast! I don’t want to get lost!”

  He lifted an arm and looked down at the big gray eyes gazing up at him earnestly. “Walk faster, then. I don’t want to be out in the streets any longer than I have to.”

  Rilla’s arms flapped absentmindedly against her sides. “Why not? It’s pretty out here.”

  Kaspar stared for a moment, trying to decide if she was joking or not. When it became apparent that she wasn’t, he yanked the knit hat further down on his head and broke into a walk again. “I hate the city.”

  “H—hey!” she exclaimed, indignant.

  A small fist closed around his sleeve and he had to resist the urge to snatch his arm away.  Instead he aimed a frosty glare at the little girl. “Keep up, will ya? There’s still a ways to walk and it’s really best not to be out past midnight.”

  “Why not?”

  A bad taste filled Kaspar’s mouth. “It’s just not. Trust me.”

  When an incessant line of questions didn’t follow that vague statement, he actually glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. She was, of course; like a stray dog on his heels. But instead of keeping her attention on him, her eyes were drifting across the street and up the sides of the glass-paned buildings distractedly. Her footsteps faltered and she fell a bit more behind, the hand latched to his jacket tugging him back.

  “Hey,” he called, voice softer than he expected it to be. “Come on.”

  She immediately scrambled back to his side, trying to keep pace with his long strides. “Is midnight when the Underground comes out?”

  Kaspar’s eyes slid down to the girl, brow creasing. “How do you know about the Underground?”

  “Erm…” she muttered, bottom lip catching under her teeth. “I dunno. I’ve heard people talk about them before.”

  “Well, forget about it, okay? They’re bad news.”

  Some sort of emotion boiled in his gut—maybe anger or apprehension. He suddenly found himself making a vow that he would never let Rilla outside this late at night again. He had to keep her from them at all costs.

  He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but he had to.

  Thoughts of any of them getting their greasy, thieving hands on her…

  He turned and bent down to grip the small girl under the arms and swiftly, firmly lifted her off the ground.

  “What are you doing!?” she squeaked, arms instinctively clasping onto his neck.

  “We need to get home,” was his only answer. “Hold on.”

  She, thankfully, didn’t offer any protest as he took off at a brisk walk down the street. It was a lucky thing that she was so light. She couldn’t have weighed any more than ninety pounds. But Kaspar also made a mental note to make sure she was eating enough—something he supposed he was responsible for now.

  Strange that the thought didn’t repulse him.

  Despite Rilla’s lightweight, Kaspar found himself breathing heavily after a few blocks of practically jogging while carrying her. But the need to get inside locked doors was too driving to set her back down and risk having her fall behind again.

  Rilla was strangely quiet while he walked. Gradually, her grip on his neck loosened and her head fell to rest against his shoulder. He could feel wisps of her hair tickling his jawline. But all he focused on was reaching his apartment.

  When the building came into view roughly ten minutes later, he let himself sigh in relief.

  “We’re home, Rilla,” he whispered to the girl in his arms, but she didn’t give any indication that she’d heard him.

  Kaspar looked down and noticed for the first time the slow, rhythmic pattern of her breaths and the flaccidity of her limbs and couldn’t prevent a subtle smile from crossing his lips. He’d had a feeling she was tired.

  Getting her up the stairs and in the door was a challenge, but he somehow managed it without waking her. He set his keys down carefully on the rickety table in the kitchenette and shifted her form against his hip. She didn’t so much as stir.

  The apartment was dark. Lights from the city shone through cracks in the blinds, spreading striped shadows across the floor and the far wall. Kaspar moved toward the living room with the intention of lying Rilla on the couch where she’d been sleeping, but paused as he passed his bedroom door. And then let out a heavy sigh.

  You’re turning into a sap.   

  The words rang in his head, but they didn’t particularly bother him at the moment. He blamed it on the late hour and the migraine brewing in his temples.

  Grudgingly, he nudged open the door with his hip. The bedroom was untidy, littered with his sparse collection of clothing and empty food cartons, and he’d bet that Rilla would scold him for not cleaning it in the morning.

  He suddenly felt bone-weary as he gently set the girl down on the bed. Carrying her had been more daunting than he’d anticipated. She hardly moved as he took off her shoes and jacket and covered her with the blankets. Then, sure that she was dead to the world, he dropped down to one knee and smoothed the hair from her forehead.