After Harriet had gone with Greg, Kasper had left the room without speaking. He couldn’t bear to hear the others break off all ties with him. Since then, he’d been doing loops of the corridors, up and down and spiralling around the fifth floor, the thumps of his feet resonating through the floors.
He couldn’t seem to sit still. Whenever Kasper stopped moving, he started thinking, and so he ran.
He turned at the top of the stairs to do another lap. There was a tiny noise behind him. Felix was standing there, looking sleep-crumpled and shattered.
They’ve sent him, Kasper’s brain whispered. He’s here to kick you out of the group.
“Hello.” They both ignored how his words came out pained.
Felix rubbed at the shorn hair on the back of his scalp. “Do you, er, want to talk?”
Kasper’s breath left him in a rush. Felix was here to talk. They weren’t getting rid of him then, not yet.
They sat down together against the breeze-block wall, staring at the window opposite. Ivy had crept in through the cracks in the pane, spreading across the plaster in thick, creeping fingers. Light fell into the room through the leaves, casting a green glimmer over the mouldering wood of the windowsill.
Usually, Kasper would pull Felix under his arm, into a headlock or a man-hug. He wanted to, more than ever. But he was suddenly afraid that Felix would jerk away in repulsion. He carefully moved his arm so they weren’t touching, in case he made Felix flinch back.
Kasper didn’t understand why they didn’t hate him. They should – his behaviour was unforgivable. Yet here was Felix, right by his side, where he had always been, for as long as Kasper could remember.
To his surprise, Felix lifted his arm meaningfully. Kasper blinked. Felix had never – not once – offered Kasper a hug before. He grumbled enough when Kasper hugged him.
Kasper shuffled closer, pressing himself against his side. Felix’s heavy arm dropped across his shoulder, the pressed cotton of his shirt smooth against Kasper’s neck.
Kasper let out a long exhale, relaxing in increments. He had so much he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Felix had supported him before, after Lisa disintegrated. He’d forgotten how awful and guilty he’d felt then, trembling with fear every time there was the slightest noise, in case it was Greg, coming again to demand that Kasper use his power for the Tricksters. Felix had helped him through it all.
“I’m sorry about Harriet, Kasper.”
Kasper stared hard at the floor. There was something in his eye. “I should have known that Harriet would never want to be with a monster like me. Not for real.”
He was aiming for self-deprecating, but the words came out too honest.
Felix twisted, touching Kasper’s chin until he met his gaze. There was a tense fury in his expression. “Kasper. You are not a monster. Not even a little bit. If anyone is, it’s Harriet.”
Kasper closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he felt stronger than before. Braver. Felix had seen Kasper at his very worst: frothing at the mouth with the desperate desire to cause pain. Yet he didn’t blame him for what had happened. He didn’t think that Kasper was worthless, spineless, horrifying.
Felix’s gaze was flickering back and forth across Kasper’s face. “You aren’t going to do it again. I know you aren’t.”
Kasper’s chest swelled. He leant his forehead against Felix’s shoulder, hiding his face. He wasn’t sure what his expression was doing, but he didn’t want Felix to see it. “I don’t know how you can be so sure. I’m not.”
“Because I know you. You’re good, Kasper.” Felix’s eyes were dark when he lifted his head.
Felix still trusted him. Kasper felt winded by the knowledge. He looked at the way the dim light hit the curve of Felix’s nose and wondered if he’d ever really seen him before at all.
Felix would never have been weak enough to possess someone. He was much braver than Kasper, in so many ways. Kasper’s weaknesses were Felix’s strengths, like they were two halves of one whole.
Felix was always there, just when he needed him. But Kasper never gave him anything in return.
“I think Harriet made a mistake,” he said eventually. “I don’t think she knew what she was doing.”
Felix looked away, his jaw set tight. “If she’s not to blame, either, then who is? I don’t trust her, Kasper. Not even a little bit.”
“She’s acting a bit bonkers,” Kasper admitted. “But I need to give her a chance to explain what happened. It sounds like the Tricksters manipulated her into destroying the Shells. I know what they’re like. I can’t cast judgement if there’s still a chance she’s telling the truth.”
Felix sighed. “I don’t know how she could possibly have an explanation that will redeem everything she’s done. Please brace yourself, OK? Even though you – you know, like her—”
“I don’t like her,” Kasper said in a rush. “I used to, but – I made a mistake. Clearly she’s not the person I thought she was. I want to be with someone who actually cares about me. Not someone who pretends to.”
Felix was staring at him, eyes wide, expression beaten raw. Kasper was suddenly very aware of how long and black his eyelashes were.
He swallowed, feeling hot and shy. He could trust Felix not to use this against him, but it still felt strange to spill his heart to him. It was different from their usual playful banter. It was … intimate.
Maybe it was time to pull back. He tried very hard to never think about this. Felix. Whatever they were both doing, beyond spending time in each other’s company.
“I want to give Harriet the chance to make things right,” Kasper said at last, forcing himself to focus. “And if it turns out she’s…” He trailed off. He couldn’t say it.
Felix finished for him. “We’ll deal with that if it comes to it.”
Kasper sighed, rubbing his face against Felix’s
