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She disappeared into the living room and I hurried into my bedroom to get changed. After stripping off the suit and donning a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, I hesitated before grabbing my onesie. Fuck it. She’d already seen it.
After tugging on my slippers, I opened the bedroom door and snuck past the living room to the front door, feeling like a bit of a creep as I picked up one of Beryl’s sandals to find out the size. Then I raced up the stairs to my workshop. The old leather desk chair creaked as I sat down in front of my PC, and I quickly fired off the emails to my clients before opening up an online human clothing store.
Chewing my lip, I anxiously browsed the never-ending selection of shoes. What kind would Beryl like? She’d need warm ones for the winter. Spotting a pair of boots in deep burgundy, I clicked on them. For some reason, I thought she’d like those ones, but if she didn’t, at least she’d have something until she found some she really wanted.
Adding them to the cart, I then typed in coats and groaned at another endless list. At least I could immediately rule out any in beige or tan, knowing she’d hate them. After a few minutes of scrolling, I found a grey wool coat with burgundy fur trim and stared at the screen in despair when it asked me to select a size. I had no fucking idea about human sizing.
At least there were pictures of models actually wearing the different sizes. Beryl seemed tiny to me, but the human woman wearing size Small looked positively miniscule. The model wearing a Medium looked closer to Beryl, so I selected that and checked out.
As I loaded up my cell provider’s website and started the process of ordering a second SIM under my plan, I worried that Beryl would think I was trying to, I don’t know, control her life or something. I wasn’t. I just wanted her to be warm when she went out, and I wanted her to be able to contact her aunt in case she was missing her. If Beryl got angry when this stuff arrived, I’d return it all and apologise. I was only doing it in secret because I knew she’d refuse if I asked her. She’d refused my multiple offers to buy her stuff while we’d been out.
Once that was done, I left my workshop and stopped on the third floor. After glancing nervously at the stairs, I crept toward the closed door and snuck into my Room of Shame, sifting through the mountain of boxes until I found what I wanted.
Clutching the mound of soft fabric, I made my way downstairs. The house was quiet, but I could hear the rustle of a page being turned in the living room. After casting a nervous glance down at myself, I took a deep breath and walked into the living room.
Beryl looked up from her book with a smile. It widened when she saw me in the onesie, but before she could say anything I lifted my chin in defiance and said, “You’ve already seen me in it now, so… you know. I want to be comfortable.”
“Don’t blame you.” She set down the book. “Your slippers look nice and warm as well.”
My ears fluttered wildly, but I cleared my throat and lifted the pile in my hands. “I thought, um, you said earlier you wanted… I have spares so I didn’t know if…”
Her gaze dropped to my hands. She sat up, green eyes sparking with excitement. “Is that a tent for me?”
I huffed, crossing the room to hand it to her. “Yeah. I ordered the wrong size at first. It’ll probably still be way too big for you, but…” Once she’d taken it, I cleared my throat and held up the fluffy slippers I’d also grabbed. “And these. If you want them. They’ll definitely be too big, but um…”
“Oh my god.” She stood up and immediately slipped the onesie over her head. I snorted as it fell all the way to the floor, her small hands completely swallowed up by the long sleeves. “It’s so soft.”
“Yeah.”
I watched as she tugged on the slippers, which were at least twice as big as her feet, but she beamed up at me with so much happiness that my throat closed up. I wanted to burrow under that onesie with her and wrap myself around her small frame like a second blanket.
She’d been here a day and a half, and I was already fucked.
After completing my soothing evening ritual of going around the house and lighting all the candles, we put on Our Neighbours the Humans and ordered dinner. Beryl chose Chinese food this time, and I might have gone a little overboard adding stuff to our order because I wanted her to try everything. And I was hungry as fuck.
She opted out of trying shade tonight, but didn’t seem to mind when I lit up a joint and relaxed back into the couch, three blankets already piled on top of me and one on top of her. Even before the shade hit me, I felt drowsy and content in a different way than usual. As much as I hated being out in public, it had been a good day. It had been amazing getting to show Beryl new things and give her new experiences, especially because she was so enthusiastic about it all. I felt like a grumpy old man most days, particularly when forced to be around other people, but it had actually been… kind of pleasant wandering around the city with her.
This was better, I decided, burrowing deeper into my blankets. Just the two of us, inside in the warm, with the TV on and food on the way and the room lit only by soft candlelight.
This was the best.
I was way sleepier than I usually was at this time, having got up so early, so the shade hit me harder than normal. I found myself snorting with uncontrollable laughter at all the unfunny shit going on in the show, which made Beryl start laughing even though she wasn’t high.
We calmed down when the food arrived. I grabbed us both forks from the kitchen, because I was terrible at using chopsticks—something else Agma had found embarrassing—and explained all the different foods to Beryl. We ate in contented silence, sharing dishes and watching TV. Once Beryl was finished, I smoked another joint and went back for seconds, which made her laugh.
Once I was finally full, I cleared up our mess and put the leftovers in the fridge, but only because Beryl went to do it herself. I almost tripped launching myself off the couch before she could, my legs getting tangled in the blankets and the shade making me uncoordinated. She’d looked so cosy and comfortable that I hadn’t wanted her to move.
“Are you sure?” she’d asked uncertainly.
After telling her I needed a drink anyway, I went into the kitchen and returned with water for both of us. Curling back up under the blankets, I hit play and we carried on watching in peaceful silence until, after a couple more episodes, a soft weight hit the side of my arm.
Going still, I glanced over. And my twin hearts practically fucking exploded. Beryl had fallen asleep, scrunched up into a little ball, half turned toward me, her temple resting on my arm.
I swallowed thickly, resisting the overwhelming urge to gently tuck the strand of hair hanging over her face behind her ear. No. Do not. You can’t touch her when she’s asleep.
But I didn’t move an inch, breathing as slowly as my racing hearts would allow so I didn’t disturb her. Inching my fingers out from under the blanket to grab the remote, I closed DemiTV. I didn’t want to keep watching the show without her, but I also didn’t want to move. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to disturb her. Because she must be so tired after such a long, busy day that she wasn’t used to.
I switched over to late-night infomercials, wishing I could reach my smoking tin so I could have another joint to try and relax. But after a few minutes, with the TV turned down low and Beryl’s soft, steady exhalations beside me, I found myself sinking deeper into the couch, my eyes getting heavy.
