Night Warmth

“I told you I’m fine,” Emi insisted, her brows pinched.

The soft hum of the heater filled the apartment, a low mechanical lullaby that echoed off the walls of her bedroom. Outside, the snow still fell, but here, wrapped in the dull glow of evening, the world finally felt quiet.

Emi winced as Orion gently dabbed at her arm with a damp cloth. She was technically not physically injured, but somehow she felt the aching through all her limbs, stinging like a mildly poisonous flower. The lightning left no marks, but Orion treated it like it might erupt at any moment.

“You know, it’s not like I got hit by a meteor or anything.”

Orion didn’t respond right away. He remained focused, his silver hair slightly disheveled, a rare break in his usual pristine control. His touch was delicate, but the tension in his shoulders was continuous, strong.

“That spark,” he finally said, “was mine. I once knew a minion who only held his hand in the lightning for no more than a few seconds. He was bedridden for the rest of his life.”

“Whoa…”

She looked down at her arm, checking for signs of injury, and then returned her eyes back to his, telling him:

“Well, I feel safe. Honestly, you’re kinda fussing more than my mom did when I had chickenpox.”

Orion raised an eyebrow.

“I do not know what that is, but I’m sure that chicken is no match for my divine power.”

She let out a small laugh.

“You’re impossible.”

But as she shifted to tease him again, his breath hitched. His knees wobbled – then gradually buckled.

“Orion!”

Jumping out of her bed, she caught him just in time, arms wrapping around his waist as he leaned into her, the weight of fatigue crashing down like gravity just now remembered.

“I’m alright,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think so, little man.” She adjusted her footing, guiding him gently. “Come on, fella. Futon. Now.”

“I’m no fella. I’m king.”

“Well, your majesty, it’s time for you to lie down now, pwetty pwease.”

“You know, I’ve been here long enough to know when you’re doing the baby-talk.”

Bursting into a reserved laughter, she pulled his arm over her shoulder. She felt like she was dragging a whole sack of potatoes toward the stairs. Someone so short should not be this heavy.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he murmured as she helped him out into the hallway.

“And you’re not exactly a bag of feathers either.”

“Because I am made of star fire.”

“Well, that fire is going to throw out my back.”

Emi finally managed to shuffle him down the narrow steps, each thud of their footsteps echoing through the tiny apartment like a drumroll of stubborn pride. She nudged open the futon already laid out near the heater and lowered him onto it with all the care she could muster.

“There,” she said, breathless, gently easing the blanket over him. “Mister Little King, safely delivered.”

Orion exhaled, lying still for a moment. His white hair fanned against the pillow like falling snow. He blinked slowly.

“You mock me… but I am grateful,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, sitting cross-legged beside him. For a second, they just listened to the heater hum and the hush of snow still falling outside the windows.

Then, unexpectedly, Orion spoke again.

“Hey…”

“Yeah?”

“I wonder… sometimes,” he hesitated, but continued, “what if… I was born here – on this world?”

The question sank into the silence for a brief moment, before he resumed:

“I’ve been here long enough to wonder. What if I’m just… normal?”

Emi glanced at him, surprised by the turn. He tilted his head toward her, as if waiting for a response, waiting for an answer he was looking for, that somehow, she was the only one he wanted to hear from.

But all she could do at the moment was think about what to say.

So Orion went on:

“Your people have a fascinating time here in your youth. Going to school, sitting in a room, eating… what do you call it? Chips? Would I like it if I did that for years on end? Then maybe after that I’d bump into you on a train. Skip rocks by the river, wrestle fish monsters out of the water. Your people do that here too, right?”

She laughed gently, a little breath through her nose.

“Yeah, yeah we do. Sounds pretty lame, though, to be honest. The other stuff, not the fish wrestling, that one actually sounds really cool.”

They both fell quiet again. The heater clicked once, shifting to a new cycle. Then she said:

“But I don’t think you would have to change much about you. You’d still be that mysterious, quiet guy who doesn’t talk to anyone, but actually reads a ton of books and secretly aces all his tests. And all the girls would totally have a crush on you.”

Orion blinked:

“Is that really how things are?”

“Yes,” she chuckled, “you have no idea.”

His head tilted upright again, facing the ceiling. He asked her:

“And what about you?”

Which jolted her mind the moment she heard the question, but was quickly quelled when he continued:

“Would we still be friends?”

A cheery warmth touched upon Emi’s cheeks, letting her smile:

“You mean, would I still drag you around and force you to have fun?”

But before he could respond, Emi now noticed he had finally dozed off. Eyes closed into a blissful relaxation, which she did not know was possible for someone who was filled with so much, raging inside him.

She watched him in this prolonged silence, letting all that he had said sink into her mind as she went through all possible answers.

All to then lead her to lean straight forward, close to his face – a bit too close. As if observing, like someone who was birdwatching an exotic animal. But there was something more to it as well.

Then slowly, descending into a quiet whisper, as if to caress his ears, she leaned in even closer:

“I wish you didn’t have to fight.”

Then finally, for the first time – a kiss was pressed to his cheek.

Brief, and into the night.