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Not My Magical Destiny part 3

Intro <<previous (part 2) next (part 4)>>

Something happens with Gabriel and he turns to the one person that he feels can help him: Kodi. The bakery is barely fixed and much the same could be said for Kodi.

The grandfather clock had just ticked beyond half past four when there was a knock at the glass door to the bakery. I nearly jumped out of my skin, sending flour skidding across the counter. 

One hand pressed to the glass, Gabriel looked at me pleadingly. I wiped my hands on my apron, the one he had embroidered with my name and a phoenix so long ago. Abandoning the puff pastry mid-roll, I walked over to the door. The lock needed replacing, especially after the fight; it had been finicky before but now I had to wrestle it open without it stealing my keys. The owner of the bakery insisted on keeping it since the mechanism still worked in a pinch and they were hard up on funds after renovating the torn-up booths. Gabe’s throat bobbed as he stepped back from the door. His hair was a bird’s nest, shedding whenever he moved quickly. Whatever poise I had seen when he walked into the bakery two and a half weeks ago had vanished. He looked defeated in a way I hadn’t seen in ages. I spread my arms wide, twitching my fingers towards myself in invitation. He barrelled into my embrace. I stumbled back. 

Softly, quietly, I walked him into the office where there was a beanbag. I guided him onto it and covered him with a fluffy blanket patterned with macarons. I kissed the crown of his head, which still had far too much regrowth.

I whispered, “I’ll be back. I just need to get the quiches into the oven.”

He was too shattered to nod back.

As I rhythmically folded and rolled out the dough, I could barely focus. I hadn’t seen Gabe this distraught since before he had started testosterone. We had spent many nights curled up together or apart, depending on what we could stand. Sometimes he was shaking from the wrongness that permeated his existence in those moments. I’d have to hold down his wrists in a hug so tight I took away his breath. Those days were the hardest – when I had to go home knowing he’d come to school the next day with clumps of hair missing and eyes red from crying and lack of sleep. It hurt me almost as much as it hurt him. 

Of course, he had returned the favor. He had wiped my tears too, had taken up the scissors for me when I finished with his hair. I remember the relief on his face, weight dropping from his shoulders just as it did from his head. That was one of my favorite afternoons with him; both of us sought our joy and helped each other achieve it.

I would do anything for his happiness. 

Finally, fumbling only once at the thought of him crying in the office, I put the pastries in the oven. I scrubbed my hands of flour but it never relinquished itself from under my nails. I hung my apron on its nail so I wouldn’t cover him with more flour. It swung limply next to the mural Gabe painted when I started the job.

He hadn’t moved when I shuffled back into the office. His gaze bore into the wall, staring at nothing through the chibi cupcake calendar. I yearned for a smile from him, wide and true and pulling at the dimple he earned from knocking his head on our treehouse. I flopped down next to him, sending him upward and knocking the blanket to the ground. He made no effort to grab it. I picked it up and tucked it around us. I threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into another hug.

Lips pressed into his hair, I ordered quietly, “Tell me what happened.”

Tears dripped onto my collarbone. A sob tore from his throat. He wrapped his arms around me, tight as a limpet, and cried. His breathing was unsteady with gasps wracking his shoulders. It took a lot for him to cry this much. I was ready to kill anyone who did this to him, otherworldly or not. I rubbed circles into his back and tried to keep my breathing as metronomic as I could to give him something grounding, to eventually aim for. 

The quiches were almost halfway done by the time he had calmed down enough to get out a few words.

“It was Idle,” he croaked.

“Hm?” I asked, squeezing his arms once gently. 

He sat back so I could see his face. “Or, Patience.” His expression contorted in pain again. “She was posing as Patience to sabotage my return as Pride.”

“Oh,” I said. She was dead meat. “What did she do?”

“Last night she attacked Envy and made a move for me. But she and her companions always underestimate the others. As soon as she turned her back on Envy, Envy sunk a knife into her back,” he said, monotone. “She retreated and I ran off after that.”

I wiped a tear from his cheek. Quietly, I asked, “And then what?”

“I walked around for a bit.”

“You didn’t go home?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”

“Did you at least find somewhere to rest?”

Again, he shook his head. “Couldn’t.”

I gathered him into my arms again, more for my sake than his. I’d never found a greater peace than when I was with him. Gabe had expressed the same to me more times than I could count. So, I let him bask in the feeling before I tugged at his composure with more questions. 

“When you say you haven’t told anyone else,” I began, “are you talking about what Patience did?”

He shook his head.

“You haven’t told anyone about anything? Not the prophecy, not the other world, nothing?”

Gabe nodded and buried his face further into my chest. I didn’t need to see it to know the shame tracing his features.

“Why haven’t you told anyone else?” I questioned, forcefully meeting our gazes. “You were asked not to, but that’s never enough for you. So, why?

Gabriel sighed. He sounded as old as Envy seemed. “It’s dangerous,” he began, “for people outside our circles to know. People don’t hide knowledge well, and most people can’t defend themselves against the forces that seek to keep or disrupt the balance by any means necessary.”

“Okay,” I said, reassuring him even as the floor beneath me dipped. 

He took another shaky breath; it smelled like his mother’s dal, which I knew she hadn’t made in two days. He continued, “I just couldn’t keep it from you. Like I said the first time, we tell each other everything. You’re just so strong, I knew you could handle it. Can handle it.”

When he paused the wheels in both our heads were turning. In very different directions I was sure. I kept my mouth shut.

Eyes sparking weakly, he said, “What if you come with us? You’d be under our protection so I wouldn’t lose you, and you’d be safe. At least I hope. Envy is going to take a while to recover.” His eyes darted around the room and his grip tightened on my hands where they had fallen into our laps. “And it’s my fault. I trusted Idle, Patience, let her tag along with us. She had so many opportunities to hurt us, it’s a wonder she didn’t do it sooner.”

Gently wiggling my hands, I extricated them from his. I placed them on top of his palms, feeling their clammy warmth, trying desperately to soothe his racing thoughts. My mind was reeling from what I had learned. Standing, I said, “You’re not ready to leave yet. You can keep me company until the bakery opens, but then you have to go. I love you and I love having you around me, but I might get in trouble for letting you loiter while customers around. Besides, I’m sure Envy will be worrying, so you’ll need to find her.”

“Thank you,” Gabe said into his knees, which he had gathered to his chest during my proposal. 

He ended up dragging the beanbag into the entrance of the pantry so I could dance around him now and again when I went to grab ingredients. We made some idle conversation, but the weight of his breakdown sat heavy with both of us. Every step I took was weighed down by what was to come, for Gabe or for me.

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