Idiot Savant

My arcane brilliance knew no bounds. I rubbed my eyes under my goggles as I admired my work. When our group took refuge in a single place for more than a few days my academic interests could finally thrive. Everything at The Oasis palace was perfect, well, almost.

Despite distractions, inspiration sparked last night and I’d been hunched over my guestroom desk ever since. The books I’d pulled from the palace library lay stacked and abandoned at the corners of my desk. Instead, gears, springs, and paper thin metal feathers clustered in tidy piles across my desk. I could finally finish my work. Constructed wings that could let anyone fly, even those without magic.

Under a mounted magnifying glass I refined a gear with a thin file. The door slammed open causing the gear to tink to the desk.

There was only one person who that could be and I smiled as Cricket filled my doorframe.

Her hair was shorter than yesterday, clearly self-cut. Zydra would wish to fix it but I doubted she’d let him. But it reminded me of a lion’s mane, wild and free.

I waited for her customary boisterous greeting, but none came.

Peculiar.

Instead, footsteps stomped across the floor, closing the distance between us. It wasn’t unusual for Cricket to interrupt my work. While I complained about the disruptions, I always conceded to her demands that dragged me outside to play with her fire salamander. Some days she plopped onto my desk, chattering away, swinging her legs while I worked.

She slammed her hands on the desk. Dozens of gears jumped into the air before scattering across the desk. This was a new greeting. Was she testing a new game on me? No, she was glaring at me.

She’s mad.

Jihan told her.

Or, she heard dinner was an hour later than usual tonight.

In my usual tone, trying to keep calm as I swept the parts into my hands and reorganized the piles, “Hello, Cricket.”

“What. The. Fuck. Markov!” her arms spread in outrage.

“Pardon me, but I believe you skipped critical portions of the conversation. Allow me to give an example: ‘Hello Markov. How are you doing today?’ I am doing well, thank you for asking–”

She refused to fall into our usual playful banter, “I can’t believe you did that!”

Do what? Threaten Jihan after he slept with Cricket?

Cricket was too good for him, even for a meaningless one night stand. I, a person who traveled with her for years, spent most of our waking (and non-waking— not like that) hours together, didn’t even have the right to her.

“I am afraid if you are not more specific I will not know what you are talking about,” I leaned over to pick up the scattered parts.

“You’re really going to play dumb? Jihan! You threatened him!”

That chickenshit.

He’d gain nothing from squealing except damaging our relationship. I underestimated his pettiness. Perhaps I should have broken a finger while I had the chance, instead of just threatening it.

“I meant no disrespect to Lorena’s family. They are generous for opening their halls to us. They’ve supplied all our needs and even granted many of our wants.”

But I had meant all the disrespect, to Jihan specifically. Mild threats were given, such as I would shove his face in mud and make him eat it like the pig he was if I saw him near Cricket again.

While I was grateful the Tahliba family opened their opulent doors to us, I struggled to effectively process the discordant family. I did my best for Lorena’s sake, but I drew the line at Jihan. But I would never go too far. I wouldn’t upset Lornea. She cherished her family despite their contentious relationships and she didn’t deserve that.

“Disrespect the Tahliba family?! Markov! You disrespected me!” She banged the table once again, sending the freshly sorted parts flying across the room this time creating a cacophony of tinks and clanks on the marble floor.

I was stunned. Disrespect her? I didn’t understand. I would never disrespect her. What I had done was put Jihan in his place. I taught him he had no right to touch her. No one was worthy of her.

Trying not to sound strained I said, “Cricket, could you please stop displacing my components. Some of those pieces are not easy to replace.” I hadn’t moved, sitting at my desk staring at the wall.

Cricket’s other flings throughout our travels didn’t matter. We were never going to see them again. But Jihan? She would– I would– have to see him day after day, for as long as we stayed in The Oasis. I’d have to eat at the same table with that moron who couldn’t logic his way out of a woven basket.

“Fuck you. You don’t get to pull manipulative controlling bullshit and then get to play it cool!”

Play it cool?

It felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to do with this conversation. In all the years we’ve traveled together she had never had an outburst like this. Not at me at least. She only dragged me to splash in puddles and laugh in rain.

But now, she glowered at me, unrecognizable.

“I like sleeping around. It’s simple. It’s uncomplicated. It’s fun. Everyone judges me for it. I don’t give a shit." Her voice cached as she went on, "But I never felt judged by you. I was me around you.” I shrunk under her words. “What you did is fucked up. You don’t get to choose who I sleep with. No one does. Except me.”

What? That wasn’t what I meant. Cricket could do whatever she wanted. She always did what she wanted. She laughed loudly, dressed weirdly, drank often, and smiled with her whole body.

I adored her for it. I envied her for it.

It was never about her choosing other people. But why didn’t she ever choose me?

Ah.

I’m a fucking idiot.

She was still staring at me expectantly, “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

What right did I have?

She waited and still I gave her nothing.

Fed up, she said, “Typical you have nothing to say.” Her voice dropped low and cold, “But this is disappointing though, from a guy who usually prides himself on learning from his mistakes.”

That’s what she wanted.

For me to completely comprehend what a failure I am.

She stomped away, decisiveness in her every step.

This was the end. Of her. Of us. Our time together might continue but it would never be the same. But I caught one last look as she left and I was startled by what I saw.

There was irritation and frustration, yes, but there was also something more.

Tears.

I had hurt her, my most cherished person. I deserved this twisting agony inside, I brought it upon myself, but she didn’t.

I grabbed her hand, staring at the ground. To my surprise, she stopped but still faced the door.

“I am sorry,” I whispered.

We held a tentative silence that stretched between us.

“And?” She turned to me, but my eyes continued tracing the veins in the marble floor.

Confidence rose in my voice, but not much, “You are correct. I overstepped. I messed up. I should never have punished Jihan.”

Her shoulders eased but I could feel her eyes were still hard.

“I appologize. You have every right to be upset with me and to end our friendship,” I lifted my head and slid off my goggles.

Meeting her gaze I said, “Please know that regardless of what you decide I will do better.”

She didn’t smile but her expression did soften. Reaching out, she pulled my goggles until they slapped back to my forehead, “Good. Don’t pull that shit again.” I nodded, rubbing my head.

She dragged a stool beside me and plopped onto it. I went to stand up and collect my scattered parts but she kicked her feet into my lap. I sat there, not quite sure what to do.

Absent-mindedly, she picked up a tiny screw driver from the desk, “You know, I was surprised you cared who I slept with.” She pointed the tool at me, “You still had no right to do that— but you never seem to pay attention to anything outside your studies.”

Unable to do anything else, I slid a tome from the stack at the edge of my desk. Conjuring the Basics by A.M. Leorotundy. It was always wise to review the fundamentals.

“That is factually untrue. I pay close attention to our provisions— Hey! Don’t use that as a toothpick!” I snatched the screw driver from her hand. “I pay attention to you! And the Blue Dawn!” I could feel my ears growing warm.

She smirked at me, leaning her arm against the desk. “Is that right?” she said as she flicked my tome closed.

Frustrated, I asked, “Can I help you?”

“I dunno, can you?”

“May I help you?”

“I dunno, may you?”

I groaned, slamming my head into the book while she laughed. I still didn’t get what she wanted but at least she didn’t seem mad anymore.

Mumbling into the book, “I do, actually. Pay attention. To you. A lot, in fact.”

“I know. You just don’t think about stuff the way others do. It’s what makes you fun. That, and you’re a push over.” She nudged her shoulder with mine.

I was not a push over. Alright, realistically I was, for any of the Blue Dawn, but especially for her.

I heard the rustling of books as she grabbed the rest of the stack. I tiled my head and stole a glance. She was creating a tiered pyramid. The entire multi-volume set on acquiring the arcane arts and she stacked them like tavern cards. My entire life was shaped by those pages. Wars were waged, civilizations thrived and died– no, the entire world was sculpted by magic, by those who could wield it, had access and who didn’t. And, she was making a pyramid.

Her tongue stuck out as she precariously placed The Seven Principles of Conducting Magic. My favorite tome to review.

A laugh slipped from me, “I love you.”

The pyramid collapsed. She froze, still holding the tome.

Did I say that out loud? I hadn’t meant to say that. Why did I say that?

She stared at me, “No, you don’t.”

I shot up, “What do you mean ‘no I don’t’?”

Of course I loved her. As much as a person as myself was capable of love. I understood emotions were among the weakest of my skillsets. Identifying them. Dealing with them. I struggled with it all. Which is why I studied with Zydra. I accepted it would never be my strong suit, but with all my “processing” as Zydra labeled it, I was fairly certain I loved Cricket.

Her brows knit and she frowned at me, “You never once accepted any of my advances.”

“Advances? What advances? You never came on to me.” I could feel my heart thudding. What was she talking about?

Cricket rolled her eyes, “Of course I did. When I asked to dance together at the Graymoore Ball. You turned me down.”

I could feel my face flushing, “you know I do not do well at balls, or social events in general.”

“I do, which is why I asked later if you were done drinking for the night and wanted to leave together.”

“Of course I was finished drinking and wanted to leave. As stated, I loathe social events and the spirits served that night were piss."

“There was the fireworks festival in Tinkerton! The night was barely half over and I invited you back to the inn!”

I stood up, pushing her legs off me, “You said you wanted to go somewhere quiet! So did I! It was very loud!”

She rose to her feet, “I thought we’d be in bed together, not going to sleep!”

I was practically shouting, “We share a bed at every inn! It’s cost effective! How was I supposed to know this was different?!”

She yelled back, “Because I was giving you the ‘I want to fuck you’ look!”

“How was I supposed to tell what that look means?! You look at me like that all the time!”

Her face was incredulous, her hands in the air.

I couldn’t believe it. I slumped back into my chair. The years of learning, the breadth of my knowledge, all of my academic success I’d achieved, had done nothing to mitigate what a moron I was.

Miserably, from beneath my hands, I groaned, “I am an idiot.”

She huffed into the stool, not denying it, “Yeah, but it’s also part of your charm.”

I peeked up at her, “You think I am charming? This is the first I am hearing of this.”

She flicked my nose, “That’s because you don’t listen.”

She was right. She usually was.

Her hand extended towards me and I paused before I finally laced out fingers together. I should be mortified, absolutely ashamed of myself, but I wasn’t, not completely anyway. Cricket had a way of doing that, making the awkward and unbearable, well, bearable. She always took everything in stride. It never ceased to amaze me.

“I am sorry. For everything,” I finally said.

I squeezed her hand and she laughed, “You don’t have to look so terrified!”

I did though, she held my heart in her hands. She’d always had it though, but she knew it now. Maybe she had always known?

I swallowed and bowed slightly towards her, “This is my first r-relationship. Please be patient with me as I learn to navigate this— this context between us.”

She blinked at me, “Who said anything about a relationship?”

I let go of her hand, actually mortified now. Hadn’t I learned my lesson? How much could I presume in a single day?

She laughed, shaking me by the shoulders as I hid behind my hands again.

“I kid! I kid!”

But I refused to come out of hiding. Undeterred, she swept my black hair off my neck, it was longer than hers now. She kissed my nape. I couldn’t move.

“Even your neck is blushing! How cute! I wonder how far it goes. . .”

With a mischievous grin, she slowly lifted the bottom of my tunic. I grabbed her hands. She smirked at me, the usual twinkle in her eye. For the first time, I finally understood.

I leaned in and kissed her.