Rue

I kept my arm around Ethan’s shoulders for so long that my muscles felt like they were locked in place, watching as the water slowly rose and then fell again. He felt small under my arm—smaller than he actually was. I wasn't sure which of us was taller, and I wasn’t bulky enough to have much muscle on him even if he was skinny, but he felt like he fit tucked in against me a little too well. The kind of feeling that might’ve made him rather freeze his balls off than stay where he was if he’d known what I was thinking.

But he didn’t know, so I was free to think my lonely, wanting little thoughts as we sat together in silence and waited for the tide to free us. 

I could have stayed like that forever, but I didn’t waste time once the water was low enough for us to leave. Ethan was shivering hard against my side and had been for a bit. He had a softness to him that I knew the world would beat out of him—was surprised he got through high school with it intact, honestly—and it made me want to protect him like he was a rare gem, fragile china.

Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate that thought either, but that was fine. I didn’t plan on sharing it.

I made my way down the rocks first, the path made easy by practice, then I stood back and guided Ethan down. Or tried to, anyway. He didn’t seem to be listening to a word I was saying, his feet scrambling randomly as they searched for a place to wedge themselves into the rock.

I reached up and touched his leg, just above the top of his damp sock, intending to help him guide his foot into the right spot. Instead, he startled.

And then he slipped.

I moved in fast, hand on his ass because it was the easiest place to grab and my body pressing close. I gave us both a moment to breathe, then I lowered him carefully to the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice the red flush I could feel heating my cheeks when he turned around.

But when he did turn, all those thoughts were immediately forgotten. He hadn’t made a sound when he’d slipped, so I’d figured he hadn’t been hurt, but I’d been wrong. There was blood all down his left calf, already soaking into his sock.

He stared down at it, making a face that was more irritated than pained as he turned his leg from side to side to examine the damage. Seemingly unbothered by all the blood, he turned his attention to the palms of his hands. They weren’t bleeding, but some of the skin had been scuffed up, and he immediately set himself to the task of peeling the bits of skin off.

“Ah, shit,” I said. “I’ve done that before. Hurts like a bitch.”

“Like a bitch,” Ethan echoed. “What does that mean?”

“Uh… Hurts real bad, I guess.”

“No, I mean.” He gestured with a flick of his hand before returning to peeling the skin off it. “Why ‘like a bitch’? Why does a bitch hurt?”

“You never been hurt by a bitch?”

Ethan just frowned, clearly unimpressed, and yeah, I guess I didn’t really love the words that’d just come out of my mouth either. I sounded just like all the people I came out here to avoid. But… that was everyone. What kind of a magical world did this guy live in that an off-colour joke came as a shock?

I bit the inside of my cheek and turned away, staring off down the beach like I was weighing our options as I rode out the wave of anger that swept through me. There was a part of me that wanted so bad to punish him for looking at me like that, for being soft and vulnerable in a world where that wasn’t allowed. 

At the same time, I wanted to keep him just how he was, to tuck him away somewhere I could peek at whenever I started to feel like the whole world was hollow and cruel. But he was a person, not a pretty shell I’d found on the beach, and he was bleeding.

I jabbed a thumb down the beach in the opposite direction to the one he’d come from. “I’ll take you this way. It’s not as far, and the lifeguards can patch up your leg.”

Ethan blew out a long breath, looking back and forth between each direction. “Okay.”

The sun had sunk down low enough that it didn’t reach below the cliffs, which was good and bad. Bad because even with my hoodie on and the tough work of trudging back over the rocks underway, Ethan was still a little trembly and blue in the lips. Good because Ethan, with his scruffy waves of auburn hair and pale skin, would probably burn in an instant under direct sunlight.

The rocks were slick as we picked our way across them and I kept imagining Ethan slipping again and hurting himself even worse. The cut on his leg was still bleeding sluggishly. Not deep enough to need stitches, but it’d definitely leave a scar.

“Here,” I said when I saw him hesitate as we came up on a gap in the rocks still filled with deep water. I could wade through if I wanted to in my water shoes, but he didn’t seem keen on getting his sneakers any wetter even though they were already soaked through. “That rock there, to the right, then around.”

He scanned the area in front of us. I pointed to the rock. He hesitated another moment, and then picked a path around to the left.

That first time, I thought maybe he’d just been confused, but then it happened again and again, him ignoring my attempts to help him like I wasn’t even there.

“Can you fucking listen?” I finally snapped.

That got his attention, his gaze flicking around to meet mine as eyes the gray-blue of the sea on a cloudy day narrowed. I’d never really thought about the phrase if looks could kill, but yeah, that was one of them.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” he finally said, voice carefully even, before returning his focus to picking his way across the rocks.

Shame burnt so hot in my chest it turned into anger before I really let myself feel it. Fucking fine. If he didn’t want my help, he could just fall and hurt himself again then. Ungrateful little shit. 

I tried to convince himself that when he did fall, I’d be happy. That it’d be vindicating—an unspoken ‘I told you so.’ Yet, every time he wobbled, I found myself stepping closer, holding my hands out ready to catch him. I was way too fucking soft, and he was a dickhead for making me feel like we had a little space where that was normal and okay and then being mean when I was trying to be kind.

But he didn’t fall. He skidded on the rocks a couple of times, wobbled a lot, and had to use his hands a lot more than I did, but he didn’t fall. I did end up grabbing him a couple of times, but as he steadied out, I could tell he would’ve been okay without my help.

I half expected him to snap at me for that—I didn’t ask for your help—but he didn’t. He hadn’t snapped at me at all, had he? I had, at him, for not following instructions he didn’t ask for and clearly didn’t need. He was slow, yeah, but he hadn’t fallen. He’d made it all the way out across the rocks to where I’d first spotted him without a scratch on him, too. He hadn’t fallen coming down the rocks because he’d ignored my instructions—he’d fallen because I’d touched him.

“Sorry,” I said into the silence we’d fallen into.

He made a vague sound of inquiry as he flicked a glance towards my face.

“It was my fault you fell when you were climbing down the rocks. Because I touched you.”

Ethan tilted his head in consideration. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, but it was my fault.”

“Unless you should have known better, what difference does it make? I’m not mad about it.”

“Are you mad at me for snapping at you?”

He made a sound that wasn’t a yes or a no as he hopped across a gap to another rock.

“I was just trying to help,” I murmured.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you were ignoring me.”

“Look, it’s nothing personal,” Ethan said. “Lefts and rights confuse me and my balance is pretty bad, but I know its limits and you don’t. It’s just way easier for me to figure this out for myself. Plus I don’t really like being told what to do.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “And I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just, ignoring me like that pissed me off.”

“Sorry,” Ethan said. “This is not the first time that I’ve been told that isn’t the best way to communicate that I want someone to stop doing something.”

“Now I’m just wondering if the last couple of hours we spent in silence were you trying to psychically beam into my brain that you were mad about something.” With my arm around his shoulders—I cringed at myself.

That got a laugh out of him—startled, half-snorted, and pure joy. He wobbled on the point of a rock, but he stabilised himself before I had time to grab him again. “I’m also just quiet. I guess it’s confusing.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“That’s why I stick to plants. Much simpler.”

“What kind of plants do you like?”

The look he cast me was cautious, almost suspicious. He shrugged. “Just plants, in general.”

I tried to think of any way I could relate, but how could I? I lived in an apartment with no garden and not even enough window light for a houseplant. Even without the light situation, I couldn’t imagine any living thing thriving in that place.

“See those cactuses growing on the rocks?”

I followed his line of sight to a spot about halfway up the cliffside where cactuses sprouted from whatever tiny patch of dirt they’d found in the jagged surface of the rock. I’d never really noticed them before. “Yeah.”

“That’s coastal prickly pear. Be careful if you touch it, because they’re covered in spikes, but you can eat the fruit.”

I considered the cactus with fresh eyes. That’d never really crossed my mind before—being hungry and just eating some wild fruit. Sure, okay, I’d come across wild tomatoes a couple of times, but that wasn’t the same as a plant that was a part of my daily environment.

“Anything else I can eat around here?”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”