#peityr

You miss the twin suns of Nataii’ae, soft light filtering through green and gold leaves, leaving delicate streaks of warmth across skin. The moons, by comparison, are garish, their strange dual-colored glows dashing color in patches across the ground, across market stalls and people alike, making it all look so surreal.

You can’t remember why you stopped here, or how you got out this way in the first place. You never leave the city for anything.  Did you drive? You must have. Where is your car?

Your ear flicks automatically in response to some sound you should be hearing, but aren’t, and you draw a deep, ragged breath, only now aware of your pulse ringing in your ears, drawing out all else. You hate being alone, you shouldn’t have come out this way. Why did you even stop? You don’t have time to cook, what would you even do with fresh produce?

You fumble for your keys in your pocket with your free hand, sure that they’re there, and find that they are not. Cold panic knifes through you. You inhale sharply. That same small voice that can’t be Sid, because Sid would never berate you, reprimands you for coming out here alone, for not waiting for him to visit. Now look what you’ve done, it says, you’ve gone and lost your keys.

You could cry. You might cry, ears pinning back, what’s left of your fins fluttering frantically against your jaw.

The sensation bothers you, and you make to rub your jaw, skin tingling with your discomfort and anxiety, and–

Your key rings, warm from being clutched so tightly in your non-dominant hand, brush against your throat.

You might still cry.

But you laugh instead, a sharp and sudden thing that hurts your throat and makes nearby shoppers look at you strangely.

You’ve made such a deal out of nothing.

You should go home. At least the long drive might calm you. You pivot on your heel and set out briskly towards the lot you came from.

The moonlight still glares off stalls and it makes you nauseous, so you hunch down, keeping your face angled so you’re looking at the dirt under your feet rather than what’s ahead of you.

So you are surprised, somehow, when you slam straight into what should be a wall but instead has two firm hands that grip you by your shoulders as you stumble back.

There are tomatoes now on the ground, rolling away from your feet, but there are ones that have been crushed too, and you can’t help but to focus on those, your breath catching once more, ears pinning back. Tomatoes have odd insides, all structured flesh except for the seeds in their mass of goo that holds them to the fruit, much like the softest parts of a body, diagrams you’ve studied half a million times, on paper and in a lab. These look especially awful in the contrasting glows of the moons, squashed as they are, juice trailing out. You feel your head tilt, your lip curling over your teeth at the sight of them and you–

You’re being gently shaken.

Your head snaps up, and the ringing in your ears subsides, and you’re suddenly aware of how tightly you’re gripping your keys, metal digging into the flesh of your fingers. The man who has you by your shoulders raises his eyebrows. It’s only a slight shift in expression, but it betrays neither contempt nor concern. It occurs to you that he’s not a wall at all, and you’ve just run smack into him. You should apologize, so you open your mouth, but he beats you to the punch.

“Are you alright?”

No, no you are not. But what comes out instead is, “Are you aware you’re made of a wall?” You’re pretty sure he knows, because his lips quirk in that way Sid’s do when you’ve said something especially observant. You look down again at the smashed tomatoes.

“I’ve ruined your tomatoes.”

The man seems to realize he’s still holding you, and drops his hands with a strange sigh. Disappointed, no doubt, over the loss of his once perfectly good tomatoes, now gored on the ground.

“You did, but I’ll get more.”

“I’m sorry.”  These tomatoes look wrong, still, unnatural. So it’s not much a loss, is it? “I think you’d be happier with better ones, anyway.”

“Why do you say that?” His voice is strangely calm, a note of curiosity.

“Look at them, they’re all…” Gore, on the ground, shining red and green and pink in the light. Your head spins. You pause. “I ruined your tomatoes. I should get you more, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do that, it’s alright.”

“Where did you get them?” You don’t wait for an answer, though. You just grab him and drag him along. For whatever reason, he doesn’t really fight you, instead heaving a sigh before pulling you in a different direction, towards a produce stall run by a young tealblood girl.

She seems surprised to see him. “Gener– Cr-Cruxis. Back so soon?” Her wide eyes flick to you, and back again. He grunts by way of response.

Cruxis. His name is Cruxis. You won’t remember that, but still, it’s nice to know for now. A small detail to hold on to.

“Um, hi, I ruined his tomatoes, do you have–” He’s already picking out more in your peripheral, though he seems reticent.

“Oh uh. How’d…How’d you manage that?”

“Being observant. How much?”

You deposit the coins in her hand, and–now satisfied that you’ve repaid him for his trouble and loss–turn to actually look at him.

He’s looking at his new container of tomatoes like they’re puzzling to him, as if he’s not sure how they got into his hands at all, a feeling you’re familiar with, but his lips are quirked that way like Sid’s again.

“I’m sorry. About the tomatoes.” “It’s alright.”

“Are the new ones–” “They’re fine.”

Anxiety, not like before, worms into your chest, hot in your throat, breath catching. His eyes flick up to your face, deepset, blue and sharp under heavy brows threaded with grey, and a frown creases his face.

“I mean it, it’s alright.” His voice is firm, but kind. You nod mutely.

“Are you alright?” Again, you nod, but he doesn’t seem to believe you, his lips quirking again.

“What’s your name?” “Peityr. Uh. Pete.” Your voice sounds high, strained even to your own ears. No, you’re not alright.

“Why don’t I walk you to your car, Peityr? We can talk more about the tomatoes on the way.”

You let him take your arm gently, and he reminds you how to breathe the whole way there.