Skeptical
Adjective 
[ˈskeptək(ə)l]
1. not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations
“Skepticism is the beginning of faith.”

Keir was in bed burrito-ed in his blankets, head poking out as he half-watched My Neighbor Totoro and half-dozed off. It was probably four in the afternoon, judging by the bright sunlight that spilled into his room.

He had done nothing but camp out in his bed for the past three days, drinking loads of tea and watching movies to pass the time. He was pretty sure he had a cold, complete with a fever high enough to keep him home from school. His mother checked on him periodically, trying to coax tomato soup down his throat. He didn’t have much of an appetite, and the lack of food was probably contributing to his overall weakness.

The sound of three sharp knocks on his bedroom door jarred him from sleep. His eyes snapped open, heart thumping loudly in his chest. It couldn’t be his mother, she never knocked, and his father had finally had to take a business trip, so he wasn’t even home.

“Um, come in?” He croaked questioningly; voice raspy from having not used it all day. If someone was coming in to murder him, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself well, even if it was just a mortal. He sat up as the person opened the door and stepped inside.

Nyx flashed him a charming smile, haphazardly dropping his backpack onto the floor after shutting the door. Keir frowned, glancing at the potted plants around his room that seemed to wilt slightly in the Necromancer’s presence. “You look rough, Sunshine.” He commented as he walked over and sat a sack on his nightstand next to him. “I brought you soup. I assume that you’re a vegetarian, all Naturalists are, so I just brought you this butternut squash one the kind lady at Panera suggested.”

Keir huffed, watching as Nyx kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket. “It’s pretty stereotypical of you to think that I’m a vegetarian.”

“Are you not?”

“No, I am.” He sniffled, looking away with a small pout.

“Exactly.” Nyx chuckled and sat down on his bed and reached over, placing a hand on his flushed cheek. “How are you feeling?”

His hand was cold, and Keir recoiled away from the touch. “I’m fine. Why are you here?”

“To check on you. I figured you were sick based on your hazy, fever-induced dreams.” Nyx shrugged a little. “I also tracked down all your teachers and got your homework for you.”

“Excuse me?” Keir spluttered, coughing from his sharp intake of breath. He thought Nyx seeing his dreams was a single occurrence. “How the hell do you know what my dreams have been like?”

Nyx ignored him, instead, he grabbed the sack off the nightstand, pulling out a Styrofoam bowl of soup. He popped it open and stuck a plastic spoon into the orange liquid, holding it out to him. “Here.”

“I’m not hungry.” He crossed his arms. “Answer me.”

“You’re a brat.” Nyx sighed, continued to hold it out to him. “How about I tell you if you agree to eat this soup?”

“Fine.” Keir pursed his lips and took the container. He brought a spoonful into his mouth and swallowed it, staring at him expectantly. The soup actually wasn’t that bad.

“Dream walking is one of my abilities.” Nyx hummed as he watched Keir eat. “When I sleep, my consciousness wanders, I guess. Sometimes I can focus in on a specific person, but usually, I have no control over it.”

“That’s so creepy.” He whined, frowning at the Necromancer. “Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, not?”

“I wish.” Nyx rolled his eyes. “You have a lot of nightmares.”

Keir ate another spoonful of soup, glaring at Nyx. He didn’t like the idea of being watched while he was dreaming. He opened his mouth to say something, but Birdie flew in at that moment, landing right on Keir’s shoulder. Nyx visibly jumped, obviously not expecting her.

“Who’s this?” Birdie regarded him cautiously. “I can sense death on him.”

“Is this your pet?” Nyx asked. He hadn’t heard Birdie because she could only communicate with Keir, being his familiar.

“My familiar.” Keir corrected as the Mourning Dove squawked warningly, offended. “Her name is Birdie.”

“Birdie, huh?” He asked mockingly, smirking a little. “That’s a nice name.”

“Shut up, I found her when I was like eleven.” Keir coughed a little, sniffling.

“You should turn him into a plant and squash him!” Birdie’s shrill voice yelled in his mind. Keir winced. She wasn’t a fan of being insulted.

“Birdie, you should go check on my mom. I think she’s in the greenhouse.” He suggested, anything to keep her from trying to peck Nyx’s eyeballs out.

She didn’t argue, nuzzling him a bit with her little feathered head. “He’d make such a nice dandelion.” She said before flying off out of the window again.

“You hurt her feelings.” Keir set his half-eaten soup down on the nightstand beside him. All of this interaction was making him tired. “She’s demanding I turn you into a weed.”

“Could you really do that?” The blond leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I dunno.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m really tired.”

“Need me to cuddle you?”

“No. I want you to leave. You’re killing all my plants.” Keir grumbled, eyeing his Arrowhead whose leaves were starting to brown.

“Fine.” Nyx sighed, leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek. He stood up quickly. “Feel better soon, Sunshine.”

Keir watched him leave silently, completely confused. He had no idea why Nyx was being so nice to him, but he definitely didn’t trust him. Being associated with a Necromancer never came with any good.