The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (boyxboy)

CHAPTER 14

The Merry | Present Day

Surrounded by Slade and his hand-picked crew, Az's repertoire of emotions consists mostly of things like stress, nervousness, annoyance on occasion. He's especially used to feeling like he's done something wrong. That's something he grew up with. At least back home, he knew his crime: being born fae. Here, he tends to believe those who don't like him are either sick of his attitude and how much Slade lets him get away with, in Paver's small circle, or otherwise don't care enough to pretend to be pleasant. This bothers him less than when he still lived with his family.

What bothers him in particular is how this time, it's coming from Noah.

As he digs through a trunk for something suitable for Az to wear, Az stands there awkwardly, aware of the tension but not sure why it exists. Noah doesn't speak. Not even when he hands over a well-worn but slightly less stained shirt. Az sheds his old one and drops it into a pail of old water that they use for cleaning laundry.

The sleeves on this new one fall over his hands, and he fumbles to roll them up to his elbows. Noah still won't say anything, won't even look at him, as he rakes through his cabinet for something else. Swallowing, Az kneels down to start scrubbing the reddish-brown splotches out of the fabric floating in the pail. The scouring motion makes his chest sting.

He washes for a couple of minutes before he becomes aware that Noah is still combing through his cabinet, and now he's confident it's to avoid talking.

Az clears his throat. "Did I...do something wrong?"

He watches Noah tense a little, as if he catches himself in the act of tensing and tries to hide it. Noah doesn't answer straight away. When he does, he keeps his back to Az, still pretending to search for some object in his cupboard.

"You're being reckless." The cook's voice is firm, almost chilly. Az stops washing the shirt.

"What?"

"Azaziah," Noah huffs, turning at last. His dark eyes are wide, not at all a match for his tone of voice. "You're riling Paver up again, and you're about to disrespect the only one who can protect you one too many times."

Az frowns. "You think I'm riling Paver up?"

"I don't know what happened last night, but–"

"I was doing what you suggested," Az bites back, a lump somewhere in his throat. "I was trying to talk to the siren, I wasn't anywhere near Paver. He came in and started acting how he usually does. I... He was scaring the siren right as I was getting somewhere with it."

Noah's eyes flicker to the bruise on his jaw, the cut on his neck. "So you annoyed him enough to make him hurt you like that?"

Az feels his breath being blown out through his back. He stares at Noah, and knows the man is suddenly filled with regret.

"Stringbean, I didn't mean–"

"It wasn't my fault," Az tells him. Reminds him, almost. Because his mother always told him that what other people did was not his responsibility.

If he'd been in his right mind, maybe he wouldn't have challenged Paver like that. He still can't understand what made him do it. The siren's wide, glazed eyes might have stirred his sympathy but he's always valued his own life first.

"I know. I know that." Noah sighs. "You just...need to be more careful."

Annoyed, Az stands up. "I don't understand. Should I have let him carry on? Then the siren would still be refusing to eat, and I'd be dead. I was only doing what Slade told me. What you told me."