Napkins

Lian sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at the floor. The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of a clock on the wall, but even that sounded distant, as if it belonged to another world. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, drawing stripes across the carpet, yet it could not lighten the heaviness in his chest. His thoughts kept returning to his power and the reason he had never told Kael or Mira.

He knew that revealing it would change everything. The unspoken understanding, the ease with which they interacted, the trust they had built—all of it would fracture if they realized he could always read their thoughts. It would make them uneasy, cautious, constantly aware that he knew more than he should. Lian wanted to protect them from that fear. He wanted to preserve the balance of their group.

Even so, the choice left him feeling isolated. He thought about how some people built walls around themselves, refusing help even when they needed it. He thought about the person he had recently tried to help and how their resistance had hurt him more than he expected. Sometimes, even when he had the ability and the willingness to aid, some barriers could not be breached.

Kael had been watching him from the doorway for a while. She leaned casually against the frame, observing him with sharp eyes.

"You are too quiet," she said finally. "What is going on in that head of yours? Are you brooding again?"

"Just thinking," he admitted softly.

"Thinking, huh?" she said, her voice playful but teasing. "That is your excuse every time you get that broody look. You know what? I have a solution. We should go out. Get some fresh air. Buy something."

"Something?" Lian raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, something," she said with a mischievous grin. "A completely unnecessary something. Like a set of napkins. Or maybe a broom. Something we already have at home, but we will buy it anyway."

"We already have napkins," he said, uncertain whether to laugh or shake his head.

"Exactly!" Kael said triumphantly, pointing at him. "That is why it is perfect. We go out. We buy things we do not need. It will be an adventure."

He chuckled despite himself. The absurdity of it lifted some of the weight from his chest. Kael began gathering her coat, her bag, and a few random items she declared might be necessary.

As they walked through the streets, Kael did not stop talking. "Look at that pigeon. It is definitely a spy. I am telling you, all pigeons are part of a secret council. They report everything to their leaders."

Lian suppressed a laugh. "The pigeons are spies now?"

"Of course," Kael said solemnly. "You cannot trust them. And that lamppost there? It is very moody. You have to greet it properly, or it will get offended."

He shook his head, smiling. The silliness was distracting him from the thoughts he had been unable to escape all day.

When they entered a small shop to find the necessary napkins, Kael began examining everything. She sniffed teas and claimed some smelled like they were plotting against the bakery down the street. She tapped on mugs, declaring them musical instruments. She even bent down to inspect forks and muttered that they looked sad and in need of encouragement. Lian could not stop laughing at the absurdity.

"You know," Kael whispered suddenly, leaning close to him with a conspiratorial look, "if these napkins were alive, they would probably try to escape. We have to be careful. We do not want to hurt their feelings."

Lian laughed, shaking his head. "You really think napkins have feelings?"

"Of course they do," she said firmly. "Everything has feelings if you pay attention."

By the time they returned home, Lian felt lighter. He glanced at Kael, still animatedly explaining why the couch might be a gateway to another dimension, and then thought of Mira, who was quietly waiting in the corner. A small smile appeared on his face. He did not need to reveal his secret, not yet. With Kael and Mira, each comforting him in their own way, he had what he needed, and it was enough.