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The wound was hundreds of years old, but it still hurt. It still made me feel unwanted and alone. I had stopped waiting for them to come back a long time ago, but I didn’t think I would ever recover from their decision to abandon me.
Some of the emotion must have shown on my face because Rycon looked at me for a long moment. I could almost see the little wheels in his brain spinning as he tried to figure out what to do with me. Finally, he deflated and flopped back down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands.
“I didn’t come in here to fight with you.” He muttered, and my stomach flipped at his tone. He sounded vulnerable, and… sad? I softened despite myself. I had just been poking at him to get him all worked up. It was what we did to each other. It was what we had always done to each other since the day we met. I didn’t want to actually hurt him, just like I knew he didn’t want to actually hurt me.
“Why did you come in here, then?” I asked. Even to me, my voice sounded small and child-like. As if I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
He turned his head to look at me, and for a long moment, it felt like he was deciding whether or not to tell me something. I frowned. Rycon was never hesitant to speak his mind. Sometimes I was pretty sure he just spewed out whatever rogue thought happened to amble through his head at that moment. It was part of what made him so funny, and also so damn annoying.
Finally, he sighed and shook his head, clearly deciding not to tell me whatever it was he had been wrestling with and focusing back on the sandwich he had dumped in my lap.
“I came in here to see if I could get you to eat…and bring you…tea.”
Great. We were back to being weird again.
“What is your obsession with getting me to eat?” I asked, genuinely curious. I didn’t get why he cared so damn much about anything I did. I still couldn’t even wrap my head around the fact that it had been him who had barrelled into that room to save me. Sure, we had flirted a bit before I had been taken, but casual flirting did not make us friends.
In my experience, males who flirted with me only wanted one thing, and I doubted Rycon was any different. He had made that clear when he had broken down my door in The Court of Pride and sniffed my panties like an origindamned neanderthal. I tried not to make a face at the memory.
“When my parents died, I wasn’t able to eat for a long time.” He said quietly, suddenly refusing to look at me. He stared out the window across from the bed and I had a feeling he was about to tell me something he had never shared with anyone before.
“Food tasted like shit, and I almost didn’t get accepted into the Ironclad Company, because I lost so much weight and turned into a pathetic weakling over the course of a few weeks.” He admitted. “I was young and stupid and angry, and at first, I thought that there was something wrong with the food itself. Then I thought well, I’m just not hungry, I don’t have an appetite. I kept ignoring the fact that I was running on fumes until I almost literally died in a fight because I could barely keep my fists up.”
For some reason, my heart was suddenly pounding so hard I could almost taste my heartbeat. Why was he telling me this? My eyes were so wide I felt like they might pop right out of my skull. He turned to look at me, and he seemed so concerned and full of worry that I wanted to reach out to hold him for a moment and tell him it was all going to be okay.
“Turns out, I was seriously depressed. It’s hard as fuck to eat when you’re suffering from depression, but your mind won’t heal if you don’t give your body the nutrients it needs to support itself.”
I stared at him, unable to deny that he was right. Even I could admit that I was likely seriously messed up over what had been done to me, despite wanting to hide away from the signs and pretend it wasn’t happening. I didn’t want to do the work I knew was necessary to claw my way out of this endless pit of despair.
The pit was too deep, and I was too tired.
“I know it’s hard, Kasha. Despite what you may think, I don’t want you to have to stay cooped up in here forever. I want you to be able to go trekking in the desert with Raven and Dossidian, but you won’t be able to do that until you get better… and you’re never going to get better if you don’t eat.”
I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly I felt the sharp sting of tears well behind my eyes as I stared down at the seemingly innocent sandwich. Why did something so simple seem so damn hard?
“I can’t.” I whispered, feeling ashamed of myself. I meant it literally. I just couldn’t do it. My limbs felt like they were made of lead and the idea of picking up the stupid sandwich and raising it up to my damn mouth felt like an impossible mountain to climb.
“Is it the sandwich that’s too hard?” He asked softly. “Would it be easier if it was soup or a stew? You seem to be managing the tea okay.” He observed. I shrugged my shoulders, keeping my head down. I didn’t want him to see my tears. I didn’t want him to see how pathetic I was for crying over something as ridiculous as a sandwich. Shame rushed through me with so much heat that I was sure he could probably smell it on me.
“Hey,” he said, his voice so gentle it hurt. He curled a finger under my chin and forced me to look up at him. The movement dislodged a tear, and he deftly caught it with his thumb, wiping it away before it could fall. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Let’s try something easier.” He slid the plate off my lap as he stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
He left with the stupid sandwich that had made me cry, and I wondered for the second time that day who this strange shifter was and what the heck he had done with Rycon.
Rycon came back an hour later with a piping hot bowl of fish stew. I had run out of steam working on my tea, my arms feeling heavier and heavier each time I brought the cup to my lips. About halfway through I had given up and put the mug aside in favor of leaning back into my pillows. Sleep evaded me, which I supposed made sense, considering how much time I had spent resting lately. But I still felt so tired, it was almost impossible for me to even think about getting out of bed.
“Where the hell did you get fish stew?” I asked groggily from where I was curled under the covers. He frowned at me.
“Where do you think? I made it.”
That got my attention. Come to think of it, he had been the one in the kitchen making breakfast this morning as well.
“I didn’t know you could cook… should I be worried?” I asked skeptically, as he came to sit at the foot of my bed again. He scoffed at me, sidling up closer while scooping up some of the stew and blowing on the steaming spoonful to cool it down.
“I’ll have you know that I’m a fucking excellent chef.” He said, and before I could protest, he pushed the spoon directly into my mouth. My tastebuds were suddenly overwhelmed with an explosion of flavors. There was the creamy, sweet taste of coconut blended with mild white fish, which somehow complemented the sharp tang of citrus. My eyes flew open in surprise as I swallowed, and he smirked at me, pulling the empty spoon out of my mouth.
“Judging by that little moan you just made, I would say you agree that I’m a badass in the kitchen.”
“Shut up, I didn’t moan.” I snipped and he chuckled.
