Dust

XXXV

 An eerie silence settles across the dining table, Shi sitting across from me. His glasses at the edge of his nose, he stares down into the depths of his steaming black coffee, no words on his lips for minutes. His fingers as he taps at the porcelain mug are stained red with the shapeshifter's blood; a few moments earlier, he had helped me move the body somewhere where it couldn't be found easily, and once we had gotten back here and I had made him coffee—because he just looked like he needed caffeine—he had not said a word to me since.

So I've been sitting here, watching him scrutinize his hot drink with an expression defining lugubrious, and trying to fight the blood rushing to my cheeks. I am going to have to tell him, eventually, but I can't. I hate how awkward I know it's going to be. I'm sorry if you thought that was real, sweetheart—God, I think I sort of wish it was. No...this is exactly what I didn't want to get into.

It's past midnight, and yet I'm not the least bit tired. The light fixture above our heads is dirtied and old, and if I examine it enough, I can see the silhouettes of a few dead bugs trapped within. Shuddering, I decide it's time to say something for once. I can't sit here and stare at him anymore; it's depressing me. "So...do you like coffee, or—"

"Please don't try to make small talk, Gemma," says Shi, not lifting his eyes to me. He flicks the mug with his fingernails, sighing. "I'll be fine. I just need to get over it, and I'll be fine."

"How long is that going to take, Shi?" I interlace my fingers. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," he replies morbidly, and, for the first time in at least half an hour, lifts the mug to his lips and takes a tentative sip. It clunks lightly as he sets it back down again. "I'm just in a mood."

"This," I say, and when he looks up at me, gesture towards him, "all of this, is not a mood. This is you beating yourself up for being a hero, and I don't like it."

"There's lots of things we don't like—"

"I don't know what to tell you, though," I interrupt, sitting back in my chair and using the seat beside me as a footrest. I eye him levelly, a flyaway hair brushing my eyebrow. Shi's expression has switched to a subtle curiosity now, but the despair is still evident. "I don't know what to say to convince you that you're not as bad as you think. The guy was attempting to rob me, and might have ended up killing me, and you stopped that. It's what I keep trying to tell you, but you won't listen."

"I'm trying to listen, but all I keep seeing is..." Shi exhales, his breath ragged as he lifts his hands, showing me the blood on them. I bite my lip, lost as to where I'm supposed to go from here. "All I keep seeing is the blood on my hands, the blood that isn't my own. I mean, come on, Gemma, I nearly killed you, your ex—"

I scoff. "In fact, you should have. Killed my ex, I mean, not me. Obviously." I cough, wondering when I suddenly became so inarticulate.

His eyes narrow. "That is beside the point. The point is that I'm dangerous, and I don't even know it. So, this is bad. This is really bad, and I just...I just feel horrible. I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can do that will make me feel better."

"What if I told you something?" I blurt, feeling my cheeks flush with color. I have a feeling that awkward is much better than plain depressing; this might even get a laugh out of him.

"Told me what?" Shi's eyebrow is risen.

"Well...the shapeshifter first appeared to me as you, you know, before he was himself—and I might have...I might have, um..."

"You might have what, Gemma?" Shi's tone is not angered, but regardless impatient, and my throat is suddenly tight. I had planned to do this anyway, so why can't I? "What did you do?"