How to Make a Sinner Sleep

102 | familiar; the colour of your gaze

The fog separated companions in the town shroud by gloom, and soon, Kaden looked to his side and Lux wasn't there. He remained calm, dully blinking into the darkness, the side of his face lit by the red hue of the swaying paper lamps.

The red haired man had said he'd purchase some food, sniffing the air like a hound and walking over to a stall that appeared at random within the thick fog that had grown denser into the night.

But when Kaden turned to follow, there was nothing beside him.

For a second, he tilted his head to the sky, to the shrouded moon and the cold air that breezed past him, silent.

The deep red and dull moonlight cascaded over his sharp, hollowed features, and he looked like a man prepared for death, a sinner basking in the revelation of his crimes.

His body was floating; it always was. He was high in the air, and low under the grounds, his mind ghosting further and further away every day. He clutched the book tucked in a leather bag slung over his shoulder, but it did little to comfort him in the vastness of his surroundings.

Noah Bellamy, he muttered the name in his head, that name that seemed to ground him to reality and ensnare his slipping mind. But a mere name could only do so much, and his eyes fluttered closed—

—a body collided into him and his eyes snapped open, an arm reaching out to catch the person that had run into him.

His dulled green gaze peered inquisitively through a simple black mask, and the woman in his arms seemed to tremble slightly from the cold as she raised her cherry eyes, intelligent and gentle where they sat behind a bone mask.

He would've let her fall; he knew, rather than have the touch of a person make his skin crawl. He didn't know why he caught her instead, why his body didn't stiffen in terror.

Long, white horns curved behind her, attached to the mask and her silky brown hair was combed over one narrow shoulder.

Her slender hand, wrapped around his arm, seemed to tighten in surprise. In seconds, the surprise smoothed into a gentle smile and she straightened herself, but her hand remained secure around his arm.

"I apologize, I wasn't looking where I was going," she said softly, a hesitant quiver in her voice. "Thank you for catching me."

"It's fine." He glanced down at the hand, wrapped around his arm as if frightened to let go. She followed his vision and smiled, reluctantly loosening her fingers.

The woman's hand opened and closed, as if to confirm the sensation, the warmth of a human and not a ghost. She swallowed. "Allow me to treat you to something, gentleman. As a thank you, and an apology."

Kaden shook his head, feeling a tightness in his chest. It was painful to breathe. "There's no need." He turned to leave, to escape as he was good at doing.

"Please!" She called out as he stopped mid-turn, and she smiled apologetically. "I—"

Her voice faltered, failing and melting into something akin to a sob. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, misery coating the beautiful pink and she lowered her head to wipe them, sighing.

"I'm sorry you must see me in such a state," she smiled through her flowing tears, unable to stop them.

He shook his head, expressionless. "Isn't crying a good thing?" Thinking, he decided to speak a little more than he usually did. There was something about the woman that coaxed him to. "The ability to express your sorrows isn't embarrassing."

He thought about it, digging into his numb mind for his deeper thoughts. Crying, he always thought, was a proud and respectable feat.

Of course, there was a point in which it became excessive, but to feel sorrow and to express it—wasn't that something that he couldn't do easily? Wasn't the ability to do so incredible? He thought there was nothing shameful about being human.