Page 81 of A Siren Song for Christmas

Forty-One

Malachi’s world dimmed. Grey permeated the emporium. He moved from task to task, uncaring and floating through his routines.

Each day, he awaited Leo’s arrival. And every time, he wondered if Trent would come instead of Leo, whilst knowing he would not. Trent had not appeared in the emporium since the day Trent had fled his apartment.

During his visits to the emporium to get the elothea seeds, Leo asked him quick questions about Kelby and her needs. Malachi had put together a new terrarium for her to live in.

Malachi’s hands had trembled as he placed different plants and branches inside. He’d imagined Kelby climbing the branches before settling in and falling asleep. All the while, Trent would stand over the terrarium, watching over Kelby as he talked gently to her.

Meanwhile, Malachi would be in the Aquatic Horticultural Emporium, alone. He couldn’t bring himself to give away the terrarium Kelby had previously lived in. So it just stayed in his room, a memorial to the life she’d had with Malachi.

And when Leo had come in today, Malachi handed him a can of moth larvae and told Leo where he could procure more.

“In here we have many insect prey she can hunt,” Malachi said. “But she may not have food to hunt in her new home.”

Her new home. Away from Malachi.

His throat clenched, and pain lanced through his chest. He didn’t want to lose Kelby. But Malachi was glad to know that she and Trent had each other. Even if it meant Malachi had no one.

“I see.” Leo took the can. “Thank you.” But Malachi could hear the reluctance in his tone to give Malachi such a simple nicety.

Malachi then prepared and given Leo the elothea seeds. Leo paid and was about to turn away.

“How is he?” Malachi could not stop himself from asking every day. After all, Leo was the only contact he had with Trent now.

“Hurting,” Leo said, face blank. “Still hurting.”

Malachi flinched. More questions lingered on his lips. Because he wanted details. Was Trent eating, drinking, and resting enough? What was Trent doing with his free time now? Had he started to get over Malachi?

But Leo had already turned to leave. The door had swung closed behind him.

Malachi stood poised at the counter, throat tight as he stared at the door. He lifted a hand to his throat, which had strangely ached since the day Trent left. He swallowed, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain.

He missed Trent. He missed his smile. Missed his warmth. And his laugh.

He yearned for the quiet nights and the lazy moments in bed after an intense round of sex. He longed for the way Trent had burrowed his face into Malachi’s chest, wriggling closer. He craved to loop his arms and tentacles around Trent’s slender, naked body and hold him through the night.

When it was closing time, he locked up and went upstairs to the quiet, empty space. He glanced at the wreaths and the decorations they’d put up together. He placed a hand on his chest. It had also ached since Trent left, like an infected wound festering inside him.

It pained Malachi to look at the decorations. Still, he kept looking at them. They were all he had left of Trent now.

Malachi would not celebrate Christmas this year. He’d never celebrated it before, since it was not a siren tradition and he’d had no one here in Anorra to ever celebrate it with. He’d never cared before.

But he’d been looking forward to celebrating the holiday with Trent. Trent would have no doubt spent the majority of the day with his family. But they would have had the morning and night together.

Even after Christmas, he doubted he’d put away the decorations. He’d keep them out. They’d be a memento of Trent. He swallowed again, trying to alleviate the throbbing sensation in his throat. But it did nothing.

He sat on the chair, staring at the ash in the fireplace. The loss he felt reminded him so much of the way he’d felt after he’d lost Forathia.

Who knew a loss of a friendship could be so painful?

He ate a light supper, not tasting the food. He didn’t bother with tea or lighting a fire, even though he thought the tea might help with his sore throat. He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, knowing sleep would be a struggle.

Morning came, as it always did even when one didn’t want it to. He got up and moved through his day. The hours passed. Malachi kept glancing at the door. Once again, he hoped Trent would come even though he knew Trent wouldn’t.

Malachi wiped the leaves of the yellow sorrow. His fingers traced the stalk. Kelby would never cling to it again.

I wonder if the plant notices Kelby’s absence and misses her too.