“Gisele is so ambitious,” Luke replied, surprising her. “She wants to make art and she wants to make a mark, and she wants her work to be seen so, so badly.”
She opened her mouth to defend her friend, but Luke hurried on. “That’s not bad. It doesn’t ache like some of the others. Nothing she gets seems to staunch it: I don’t think there’s anything big enough that would make her stop wanting to make things and have them seen. But she also wants the process, and is satisfied by completing a cycle. There’s other stuff she’d be happy to have—it would be nice to have more money, it would be nice for the world to be a better place—but the thing she’s truly passionate isn’t having made the art, or being important for having made the art, but actually making the art.”
He looked wistful, almost envious.
“I don’t think I could have offered her a Deal she would have accepted even if you hadn’t warned me off—the dearest wish of her heart is an action that can never be fulfilled, but is endlessly fulfilling. It’s like eating dinner; there’s never going to be a day she doesn’t want dinner, no dinner is enough to permanently be enough dinner, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel satisfied having eaten this dinner. Other people are like Brad, though—he’s a bottomless hole. There’s no amount you could throw in there that would ever make him feel even a little full.”
“And me?”
“You’re weirdly quiet? At first, I thought maybe you didn’t want anything, like one of those monks. They warn us about them, if you accidentally get too close to one, it’ll make you go numb, maybe even comatose. But it’s more like…” He bit his lip again, thinking. “Like you’ve gone numb yourself. Like you’re one of those people who are hungry but whose bodies don’t remind them to eat.”
Put that way, it didn’t sound great. But it wasn’t that bad a description. What would make her feel satisfied?
“I want to spend time with Gisele,” she said slowly. “Maybe another friend or two would be nice. It doesn’t have to be a lot of people. But people who like me.” Love was too much to ask for, and she tried not to want it while he could tell.
He nodded encouragingly.
“I don’t want to hate what I’m doing at work,” she continued. “I wish… I guess I wish that I wished I were important like my mother, or ambitious like Gisele, or passionate about what I’m doing like Kelly or Carter. But while I wish I were that kind of person, I’m not? I want to do my work and not want to throw my desk through the window and get paid enough to live on, and then come home and have my actual life. I want to bake my little bakes and not have to monetize them, and watch bad TV and not have to monetize that, and not spend all my time trying to figure out how to have a bigger life than I’m having. I want people to think I’m competent and doing a good job, but I don’t want that job to be so all-consuming that everything has to be sacrificed to it. I guess I want my parents to not be disappointed by that. And a pony. While I’m wishing for impossible things. No, I don’t actually want a pony.”
“Those are pretty small wants.”
“Is that so terrible?” she demanded, finally looking him in the eye.
“No, I don’t think it is.” He looked sad. She couldn’t see why, unless it was just disappointment in her. Like everyone else.
“What about you?” she challenged, nettled. “What’s your big want?”
“Not something I can have,” he said, looking away.
“That’s a cheat,” she said. It wasn’t like he was any betterabout asking for what he wanted than she was. He had a better excuse, though, which just made her feel worse. She couldn’t even want things correctly. “You didn’t say possible things, you said I had to say what I wanted.”
He looked up and swallowed. She suddenly regretted asking. What would she do if he said he wanted something terrible? For the souls of the rest of Zabloom? For her soul? But she had to know. No, she wanted to know. He knew her desires, and it didn’t seem fair. To either of them. He deserved to have his desires acknowledged, too.
“You,” he whispered. “I want you to like me.”
Her heart stuttered. For a moment, she stared at him blankly. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t powerful; she wasn’t beautiful; they had literally just talked about the fact that she was boring even in her fantasies. There was no reason for her to be anyone’s dearest wish.
“I’m sorry,” he said, starting to turn away.
“Why?” she blurted.
“Because everyone else has always wanted somethingfromme, and you’re the only one who has ever wantedme, but I also know you wish you didn’t want me,” he said, misinterpreting her question. “And I don’t blame you, I know I’m a monster to you. And I’m sorry I wish you wanted something you wish you didn’t want. But I still do.”
“You’re not a monster,” she whispered. Had she been reading this wrong all along? “You’re beautiful and supportive and wonderful. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured. Because you’re dependent on me, and if you thought you had to do something in payment, that would be awful. I felt like I’d trapped you. I thought I was being creepy.”
“You’re not creepy!” he protested.
“I know you can tell I’m attracted to you, and you never asked for that,” she said. “And I don’t get why you’d welcome attention from someone like me.”
He looked into her eyes. “You’re the only one who has ever tried to protect me. Who cared about what I wanted. And wanting small things is beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
She’d slowly drifted toward him as he spoke. But at that last statement, she stopped. She wanted to believe it, but she couldn’t. If he wanted her the way she wanted him… she wasn’t a bad person? At least not in this one way. She was foolish and impractical and being with him would be a terrible idea for a million reasons, but she wouldn’t be a bad person to want it. And maybe, just once, she could have what she wanted. Oh, how she wanted to believe what he was saying.
“Believe it,” he whispered. His voice sent shivers down her spine. “I do.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, she rose up on her toes to kiss him.
He froze, and for a moment she almost pulled away. What if, despite everything he’d said, he didn’t want this? What if he was only responding to her desire so she wouldn’t kick him out? What if he did like her, but demons didn’t kiss? Maybe kissing wasn’t a thing on the Infernal Planes? He’d said he’d had broodmates, maybe humans and demons weren’t even physically compatible. Maybe—
