Chapter 80: Important
Chapter 80: Chapter 80: Important
Chapter 80: Important
"You really took care of them."
"It was nothing. I had fun too."
Faye stood near the kitchen doorway, watching Cyrus on the couch with a faintly uncertain expression.
Miles had spent most of the morning losing at video games without losing any enthusiasm. Each defeat only made him grip the controller harder and demand another round. Lena had stayed close to Cyrus from the moment she woke up, shifting between leaning against his side, curling up in his lap, and stretching across his knees whenever she found a position that suited her.
Faye was not sure whether she ought to step in.
Cyrus had not complained once. He did not seem uncomfortable or strained by the children crowding around him, and he had even adjusted his posture whenever Lena started to slide off the couch.
Miles lost another round with a dramatic groan.
"That move is unfair," he said. "You keep using it when I am distracted."
"You were distracted because you were talking," Cyrus replied.
"That is still unfair."
Lena let out a small laugh from Cyrus’s lap.
Cyrus had expected the children to become tiring after a while. Instead, he found the weight of Lena against him easy to ignore. Faye’s younger siblings were not heavy, and his body could tolerate far more than a child leaning on him while he played games.
If Faye herself had tried climbing all over him, he would probably have survived for most of the day.
The thought came with an immediate correction.
Daphne had already proven that a woman could be much more physically exhausting than she looked. He was not volunteering to test the theory with anyone else.
Cyrus glanced across the room.
Faye sat at the other end of the couch with a book open in her hands. At school, she always kept her back straight, her movements careful and restrained, as though she took up as little space as possible. At home, her posture had loosened. She had tucked one leg beneath her and leaned into the corner of the couch while reading.
She looked more comfortable here.
The clock on the wall reached ten.
Miles finally set the controller down and pushed himself up.
"Can I go see Jamie for a while?" he asked.
Faye closed her book.
"You can go, but take your water bottle and keep your alarm with you."
Miles nodded eagerly.
Faye stood and collected a small crossbody bag from a hook near the door. She packed his water bottle, a packet of tissues, and the little personal alarm he carried when he went outside alone.
Then she looked toward Lena.
"Do you want to go with your brother?"
Lena pressed closer to Cyrus’s side.
"I want to stay here."
Faye rubbed lightly at her temple.
Lena usually followed Miles outside whenever he went to visit one of the neighborhood kids. This morning, she had barely moved more than a few feet away from Cyrus. The attachment was stronger than usual, and Faye did not know whether she should be concerned or simply accept that her sister had decided Cyrus was more interesting than the outdoors.
Cyrus caught Faye’s attention and gave the smallest shake of his head.
He did not want her to force Lena to leave.
The reason was not complicated. If the children liked having him around, then Faye would have more reason to invite him back. More invitations meant more chances to play games, read the comics on the bookcase, and enjoy food that did not come with surveillance footage attached.
He was not about to interfere with a system that worked in his favor.
Faye understood the gesture differently. She took it as reassurance, then looked back at Miles.
"If someone you do not know starts bothering you, press the alarm and come straight home."
"I know what to do," Miles said.
"Tell me you will actually do it."
"I will. I promise."
Satisfied enough, Faye opened the door and watched him head down the sidewalk.
The mention of the personal alarm caught Cyrus’s attention.
His fingers paused against the game controller.
That was it.
Why had he never thought of it?
Daphne held power over him because she had the camera footage, but the footage was no longer the main problem. She was not going to call the police. Even when he had practically invited her to do it, she had backed away because what she wanted was not a report or an explanation.
She wanted him under her control.
The real issue was that she could overpower him whenever she chose.
Cyrus had spent days treating that as an unavoidable fact. Daphne was stronger. Daphne had evidence. Daphne knew his apartment. Daphne knew how to threaten him without making her threats sound like threats.
Yet there were people around him.
There were phones. There were alarms. There were neighbors, coworkers, classmates, teachers, and anyone within hearing distance. He did not need to defeat Daphne alone every time she cornered him.
The realization felt obvious once it arrived.
It also made him think of his childhood.
Before he ran, Cyrus had rarely been around men. The women in the isolated Frostborn settlement had treated him less like a person and more like a scarce resource. When he was younger, hands had reached for him too freely. Calling for help had only drawn more attention, more laughter, and more women who felt entitled to decide what should happen to him.
One older woman had used her status and his age as a reason to keep others away from him. Without her interference, Cyrus suspected the settlement would have turned him into something useful long before he understood what was happening.
Even Frostborn women knew that targeting a child was vile.
That did not mean they stopped wanting access to him once he was older.
As a result, asking for help had never become instinctive. His first reaction was always to hide, run, lie, or endure until he found an opening.
Daphne had benefited from that.
The thought sharpened into something close to satisfaction.
Someone was in trouble now.
Cyrus looked toward Faye.
"Faye, thank you."
Faye turned back from the doorway, confusion softening her face.
"What are you thanking me for?"
Lena tilted her head from Cyrus’s lap.
Cyrus did not explain the whole thought. He only looked toward the television screen and said, "You are important, Faye."
The words landed harder than he intended.
Faye stood still.
Lena looked between them, clearly trying to decide what the statement meant.
Cyrus returned his attention to the game menu.
Faye had helped him more than she probably realized. During school, she had redirected attention away from him without making a scene. She had invited him into her home more than once. She had given him a place where he could think, eat, read, and spend time around people who did not treat every weakness like an opportunity.
She was the kind of person anyone would be lucky to have nearby.
The fact that she was a girl did not keep her from qualifying as a good friend.
Faye, meanwhile, had no idea why he had suddenly thanked her.
Her cheeks warmed anyway.
Cyrus had once said that her cooking made him happy. Now he had called her important, and he had said it with enough sincerity that she could not dismiss it as a joke.
Before she could ask what he meant, she felt her face growing too warm.
Faye turned quickly and disappeared into the bathroom.
Lena waited until the door closed.
Then she pushed herself upright on Cyrus’s lap and reached toward his face.
Cyrus barely had time to react before her small fingers brushed aside part of the dark hair covering his forehead.
For a brief second, more of his face showed.
Lena studied him with solemn concentration.
Then she nodded.
"It is a secret."
Cyrus blinked.
The girl had noticed his disguise.
He let out a quiet laugh and held up his little finger.
"Yeah. It stays between us."
Lena hooked her finger around his.
The seriousness on her face made the promise feel more official than it had any right to be.
Cyrus smiled despite himself.
So that was why she had been glued to him all morning. She had not wanted to play games or avoid going outside. She had wanted to protect the secret she had accidentally noticed.
That was unexpectedly cute.
Inside the bathroom, Faye stood in front of the mirror and gathered her long hair around her face.
The reflection looking back at her seemed more composed than she felt.
He had said she was important.
The thought returned again and again.
Cyrus had not said it casually. He had thanked her first. He had looked serious, even if he had turned back to the television before explaining himself.
Her food made him happy.
She was important to him.
That had to mean she held some place in his thoughts, did it not?
Faye lowered her lashes.
The answer was not as clear as she wanted it to be.
Maybe Cyrus only meant that she had helped him. Maybe he had been grateful for the invitation, the breakfast, or the quiet place to spend the morning. Maybe she was attaching too much meaning to a few words because she wanted them to mean more.
Even if he did like her, there was another problem.
Faye was an older sister before she was anything else.
Miles and Lena came first. They needed her time, her attention, and her ability to keep their lives stable. The fact that they got along with Cyrus did not prove that Cyrus would choose her, or that he would ever be willing to stand beside her when things became difficult.
Cooking well and being gentle did not make someone irreplaceable.
Anyone could learn those things.
Faye cupped cold water in her hands and pressed it to her face.
The purple shading at the edge of her eyes deepened.
Color spread through her hair in slow waves, turning the dark strands into a deep, star-like violet that caught the bathroom light in muted glints. Behind her, thin silver traces appeared in the mirror, flickering without rhythm as though something stood just outside the reflection.
The shift made her seem older than the girl who had been blushing a moment earlier.
Only the warmth in her cheeks remained unchanged.
Cyrus had said she was important.
The thought made her heart race again.
Faye splashed more water over her face.
The violet drained from her hair. The silver light behind her dimmed, then vanished. When she lifted her head, damp strands clung to her forehead and cheeks, leaving her looking flustered rather than composed.