Convoke

Chapter 19

The pub was busy for the football match, and locals kept complaining about the lonely demon sitting at a table that could sit at least six. So, to keep the peace, Ezra moved to a stool on the other side of the bar. Locals soon grumbled about how they had to approach a demon to get a drink.

When Ezra tried to move again, Tom ordered him to sit back down and placed another pint on the bar in front of him. "If they make you feel so uncomfortable that you sit outside, I'm turning off all the TVs," he said loudly, and soon enough, the complaining stopped.

To keep Ezra occupied, he grabbed the book by the stacks of glasses that he only ever gave to tourists. "The making of Glass Horns pub," Tom read. "I don't have time to get the one from upstairs. This'll keep you busy." When Ezra wasn't doing something, he was picking at his fingernails and anxiously glancing around, or chewing his lip, or awkwardly smoothing down or tugging his clothes. Occasionally, he would watch Tom pour customers a drink, but he never stared for long enough, in Tom's opinion.

Halftime was a stressful time during football matches when the locals flocked to the bar and deliberately elbowed Ezra and push into him to reach the card machine, or their drinks, or to shout their orders over him. Tom kept a close eye in case Ezra lost his temper. But he did well, and ground his jaw, and pressed his fisted hands hard into the bar to stop them pounding into faces that weren't his.

When everyone returned to their seats and fixed their attention to the screens, Tom asked quietly, "Are you okay? My breaks in five minutes. I'll stand outside with you."

Ezra nodded and was hot on his heels when Tom took his break. They sat under the old oak tree, side by side on the table with their feet on the bench. They faced away from the pub with the thick trunk hiding them from view. "I forgot it was going to be busy today," Tom said, watching two magpies flutter around the same branch.

"It's fine."

"Are you sure? Some of them are total twats and know exactly what they're doing. It'll only get worse the more they drink."

"I can handle it."

"Okay." Tom decided to trust him. "But if you can't, please don't sit outside. It's cold. Feel free to chill in my bedroom now that you don't need to be summoned there. The door's shut and nobody will go in if I'm not there."

Ezra rested elbows on his knees and pushed his knuckles into his cheek as he stared at Tom. He watched him for a while before asking, "Why do you care so much?"

"It's normal to care about friends."

"You cared before you knew me."

"And? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, it's just that . . . demons don't meet humans like you very often."

"Well, it's lucky you met me then, isn't it?" Tom said with a chuckle.

"It is," Ezra replied honestly, his earnest expression never wavering. "Very lucky."

Tom explored his deep, dark eyes. The iris was a black bottomless pit with flaking layers of brown shades circling around it. Tom adjusted himself on the uncomfortable wooden table. When their legs touched for a brief second, the dark bottomless pits expanded.

Tom looked away with a thumping heart. Had his eyes done the same? Ezra was observant, and his expressive gaze spoke more words than he would ever dare to say out loud. I would love to know what he's thinking. Despite his eyes leaking so much emotion, the rest of him was as blank as a wall painted white. There might be a different colour or texture underneath but chipping it away would take effort. Maybe Tom didn't need to know his past to shape his future. Afterall, a white wall was only white under a white light. Nobody said he couldn't change the lightbulb.