A bad haircut is a great reminder that sometimes, less is definitely not more.
The faint morning light sneaked its way into my room, prying at my eyelids like an unwelcome guest. I groaned, burying my face deeper into my pillow, hugging it tighter as if it could shield me from the inevitability of the day. I was determined to fend off the world for a little while longer.
A soft knock at the door was my first warning. I ignored it.
The door creaked open anyway.
"Shay?" Ábel's hesitant voice floated in, followed by the unmistakable scent of cocoa.
I tightened my grip on the pillow, letting out a muffled, "Go away."
Ábel, being the infuriatingly persistent kid he was, didn't go away. Instead, I heard the soft padding of his footsteps as he made his way to my bed. A moment later, I felt the weight of his stare, and against my better judgment, I peeked out from under my pillow shield.
There he was, holding a steaming cup of cocoa, looking at me like some kind of lost puppy. He placed the cup on my nightstand and plopped himself down on the floor, crossing his legs. His wide eyes locked onto mine, watching me with that unnerving mix of curiosity and patience.
"What do you want?" I grumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow I refused to let go of.
Ábel didn't answer immediately. He just sat there, staring.
I let out a dramatic sigh, finally sitting up, my hair a tangled mess, hugging one of the pillows to my chest. I grabbed the cup of cocoa, taking a sip. The familiar taste confirmed it was Alex's doing.
I narrowed my eyes at Ábel. "Seriously, what?"
He didn't even flinch. "I was curious."
I stared at him, incredulous. "Curious?"
He nodded, all wide-eyed innocence. "About you."
I rolled my eyes, taking another sip of cocoa. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."
Ábel tilted his head slightly, unbothered. "But I'm not a cat."
I groaned, flopping back onto the bed, cradling the pillow like a lifeline. "Why are you just sitting there?"
Ábel blinked, as if the question confused him. "Because I wanted to."
I stared at the ceiling, contemplating whether it was worth the energy to kick him out or just bury myself under the covers again. Opting for the latter, I pulled the blanket over my head. "Go bug Alex."
After grumbling for some time, I finally broke the silence. My voice was muffled but clear enough for him to hear. "Why did you start bringing food to Jo?"
Ábel blinked, caught off guard by the question. He shifted slightly on the floor, his gaze fixed on the cocoa swirling in his cup. "I was curious," he admitted after a pause. "I'd never met any humans before."
I nodded, though it felt strange to hear it out loud. "Curiosity," I echoed, lifting my head slightly. "Fair enough."
"I just… wanted to understand her. She was kind to me," he said.
I sighed deeply, peeking out from under the blanket. Ábel was still sitting there, looking at me with the same gentle curiosity.
"And?" I prompted.
"Her eyes were warm," he said. "Just like yours."
I stiffened, caught off guard by his words. "Mine?" I echoed, my voice rough with disbelief. I wasn't sure if it was the morning fog in my head or the weight of his comparison that made it hard to process.
He nodded, his gaze steady. "Yeah. There's a warmth in them. It's different, but... it's there."
I didn't know how to respond. Jo had a light that seemed to radiate from within, a warmth that could melt even the iciest barriers. Me? I was far from that. I grumbled, shifting under my blankets.
I frowned, uncomfortable with the sincerity in his voice. "You've got it wrong, kid. If you want warmth, go to Alex."
Ábel looked puzzled, but he didn't argue. He just stayed there, watching me sometimes sipping my cocoa like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. I sighed again, shaking my head.
"Why do I put up with this?" I muttered to myself, hugging the pillow a little tighter.
Ábel shifted slightly, his gaze still fixed on me as I took another sip of cocoa. "Shay," he began cautiously, "is every human like Jo was?"
I stiffened again. The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock. Ábel's question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of innocence and misunderstanding.
"No," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "There's no other human like Jo was."
Ábel tilted his head, frowning. "Why not?"
I let out a slow breath, the pillow still hugged against me like a shield. "Because Jo was… unique. She was kind and strong in ways that most people aren't. She cared, even when she didn't have to."
Ábel's eyes softened, the weight of my words sinking in. "I liked her," he admitted quietly.
I nodded, the corners of my mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. "Yeah, so did I."
We sat there in silence for a moment, the room filled with the unspoken memories of Jo. Ábel, with all his curiosity and innocence, seemed to grasp a little of what made her special. And as much as I wanted to stay buried in my grumpiness, I couldn't help but feel a pang of something bittersweet.
"She was one of a kind," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
Ábel shifted on the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. He looked at me with a thoughtful expression, then asked, "Shay, do you think there's a way for me to be like the fae doctor?"
I blinked, the question jolting me from my sleepy haze. "What?" I asked, sitting up straighter. "Why would you want to be like him?"
Ábel's gaze didn't waver. "I want to save people, like he does. The way he helps, the way he knows exactly what to do—I want to do that."
For a moment, I just stared at him, dumbfounded. Ábel, who usually wore a playful grin, was serious now, his eyes shining with earnest determination.
"I... I don't know," I admitted, finally finding my voice. "The fae doctor uses fae magic. It's not something others can just learn. It's... different."
Ábel's brow furrowed, but he didn't look discouraged. "But is there any way? Something I can do to help like he does?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure of what to say. "Maybe. There are human doctors, you know. They save lives, too. It's not the same as fae magic, but it's still important. It takes a lot of time and learning."
Ábelnodded slowly, as if weighing my words carefully. "Then maybe... maybe I'll try that. If I can't use magic, I'll learn the human way."
Ábel's expression softened, and he looked up at me with a determined glint in his eyes. "You won't regret saving me, Shay. I'll become someone useful for you."
I sighed. "I didn't save you to be useful," I muttered.
Ábelblinked, clearly taken aback. "Then why?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "Is it because we share a father?"
I sighed again, the sound heavy in the quiet room. My thoughts drifted to the memory of Jo, how Ábel had cared for her, the way he held her when she died in his arms. He had seemed like he would shatter. Jo had trusted him, leaned on him in her final moments.
As I watched Ábel, a quiet realization settled over me. Jo had left him with me. She must have seen it in him—the kindness, the gentle nature beneath the surface. She had known he was a kind monster, something rare and precious.
Jo had realized it long before I did.
"It's not about that," I finally said. "Because I had to. No one else would have."
Ábel tilted his head, studying me with those gentle but sharp eyes. For a moment, I thought he might push, but then he nodded slowly. "You didn't have to, but... thanks."
I sighed, burying my face deeper into the pillow. "Just don't become a bigger pain than you already are. Now, can I go back to sleep?"
Ábel chuckled softly as he turned toward the door. "Okay."
As he left, I closed my eyes, the quiet of the room settling around me. Jo had left him with me, trusting I'd see what she did. And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to.
(...)
I sat on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the Kaleidoscope app. Every second article seemed to be about the fight against the Fifth King, speculating about the mysterious figure uniting hunters, monsters, and even the fae. Headlines like "The Uniter: A Legend in the Making?" and "A King in the Shadows: Fact or Fiction?" made me roll my eyes. They were debating my identity without a clue.
I kept scrolling until I landed on an article about the Fifth King's missing son, with a bounty so high it could make anyone's head spin. I glanced over at Ábel, lounging with a mug of cocoa, blissfully unaware of how dangerous things were getting for him.
I sighed, setting my phone down. "Ábel."
He looked up, a bit startled. "Yeah?"
"We're cutting your hair."
He blinked at me, confused. "What?"
"You heard me," I said, already pulling a chair into the center of the room. "We need to change up your look."
He hesitated but eventually shuffled over, eyeing the scissors I'd grabbed from a drawer. "Do you even know how to cut hair?"
"No," I admitted, "but it can't be worse than how you look now."
I rummaged through the kitchen drawers, muttering to myself. "Where are the damn scissors?" I finally found a pair buried under a mess of mismatched utensils. Triumphantly holding them up, I turned to find Ábel inching toward the door, trying to escape.
"Oh, no, you don't," I called out, stepping in his path.
Ábel froze, wide-eyed. "I just remembered I, uh... need to check on something."
"Sit," I commanded, pointing at the chair.
He took another hesitant step back. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"Sit."
Ábel bolted.
I lunged after him as he darted around the table. In our chaotic chase, my elbow bumped into a vase, sending it crashing to the floor. Ábel skidded to a halt, glancing back in horror.
"You're paying for that," I grumbled, making a grab for him again.
He dodged, knocking over a mug that shattered into pieces. "Sorry!" he yelped, ducking as I reached for his collar.
I narrowed my eyes at the mess. "You're paying for that too."
Ábel gulped, glancing at the broken shards. "But I'm broke!"
"Then you'd better sit still," I said, dragging him to the chair. "Unless you want to add more to your tab."
He flopped down, panting.
"You're a menace," I said, holding up the scissors. "Now, don't move, or I'll make you look like a hedgehog."
Ábel whimpered but stayed put, his eyes locked on the scissors like they might bite him. I sighed, brushing a hand through my hair. He was fidgeting as I started snipping away.
The door creaked open, and Alex strolled in, stopping to take in the scene. He raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here?"
"Haircut," I muttered, concentrating on a particularly stubborn lock of hair.
Alex chuckled, shaking his head. "You're going to butcher it."
"I'm improving it," I shot back, though I could feel my tongue poking out as I tried to even things out.
Alex walked over, grinning. "Let me handle this." He nudged me aside and took the scissors from my hand. "You'll make him look like a scarecrow."
I sighed but stepped back, crossing my arms. "Fine."
Alex worked with surprising skill, trimming and shaping Ábel's hair like he was born for it. Ábel sat rigid, his eyes darting nervously between us.
When he finished, Ábel's hair was shorter, styled in a way that made him look different enough. Alex tilted his head, inspecting his handiwork. "Not bad. What do you think?"
I squinted, assessing. "It'll do. Now we need to do something about his face."
Ábel's eyes widened. "What's wrong with my face?"
"Nothing," I said, smirking. "It just needs... adjustments."
Alex laughed, ruffling Ábel's freshly cut hair. "Relax, we're not touching your face. For now."
Ábel groaned, slumping in the chair. "You two are going to be the death of me."
I grinned, arms crossed, already considering how to disguise him at least a little when he went out. "Better us than hunters."