Fire & Songs

12 - 𝕋𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖

It's midnight, and Peter is walking the streets toward the pub where Aiman and Saifa work. He has an energy potion — something that looks vaguely green, and he thinks he should worry about it — in his hands, trying to clear his mind from the exhaustion he feels. As he walks, he tries to convince himself that he is not going to the pub only to see Saifa but to visit one of his closest friends, Aiman, whom he hasn't seen in a while.

It's useless, Peter realises. Who is he trying to convince? If Saida hadn't asked him to come by earlier, he would never have considered going there to see Aiman. He is too tired for that and only wants to make one with his bed.

It's not like he hasn't seen Saifa this week. They both have been busy, but they have met at Saifa's favourite coffee shop and then on campus from time to time. Then, at night, at the store. Peter has seen Saifa multiple times already, and yet, he feels excited at the idea of seeing him again tonight on stage. He convinces himself that it is because the Fae is magnificent when he sings. It's like he becomes somebody else. More charming, more wicked and less gentle, but overall surreal in the best way.

The journey to the pub is shorter than Peter remembers, and he throws his empty can in the bin outside the building. The place is buzzing with life, with dozens of people dancing and drinking, going in and out of the pub, occupying the few tables out in the front and the ones inside. It's good. It means good business and better wages for Aiman and Saifa. However, in Peter's current half-asleep state, the idea of seeing and evolving among that many people is terrifying. Almost impossible. But then, as he steps closer, his eyes following the life inside the building through the windows, he notices Saifa on stage, singing with his guitar hung around his shoulders. The Fae is glowing with this unique light he has, his smile so blindingly bright that Peter almost feels the need to squint his eyes.

Perhaps it's the light he sees inside those green orbs, or perhaps it's the appeal of that stupid smile, but Peter takes a deep breath, unconsciously straightening his clothes before walking inside the pub. Immediately, the music and chatter are loud in his ears, only soothed by Saifa's voice, and the people are rushing around him, bumping, pressing against his body. Peter does his best to ignore it all, marching to the bar where Aiman is busy serving thirsty clients.

As he approaches, his friend notices him, smiling happily at him as he waves, but another wave of clients asks for his attention, and he has to refocus on his work.

Seeing that all the bar's stools are taken, Peter turns to the large room, trying to discern if one of the many tables is free. He finds one in the pub's farthest corner, where there are the least people. He smiles to himself before quickly going to the table, afraid someone will sit there before he can. Once he is settled, his bag and coat resting on the only other chair at the table, he relaxes against his seat, letting the music and Saifa's singing appease his nerves.

Peter doesn't even think to order a drink as his eyes settle over the brightly glowing Fae on the stage. Saifa is smiling at the large crowd at his feet, a captivating grin that is very far away from the smiles he gives Peter. At the moment, he looks like one of those pop stars with their shallow yet shiny smirk. It's beautiful, but it's not real. It's all for the show.

There's something inside Peter that warms with the knowledge that he knows Saifa's real smile. None of the girls and boys dancing at his feet and beaming at him with devoted, adoring eyes can even pretend to have ever seen the Fae's real face, let alone his gentle, kind and soft smiles.

Peter listens to Saifa, watching the way his lips move behind the mic, observing each shift in his expression and how his eyes are shining. His voice is still deep and smooth, like dark chocolate, and his fingers, pulsing with white power, move rapidly and agilely over the instrument's strings. Peter's eyes try to follow the movements, but he gets lost, thinking of those nimble fingers, and he blushes, shaking his head slightly. When his gaze settles back over Saifa, the Fae is staring at him, his expression softer, more real, and shining with something Peter still can't describe. He listens, unable to look away, so much so that he barely registers when Aiman approaches his table and grabs a chair to sit.

"He's good, right?"

His voice brings Peter back to reality, and he looks away from Saifa, blinking at Aiman, who smirks at him.

"Anouk told me you broke up with Brown," he continues, sliding a beer toward Peter as he opens a water bottle. "Congrats," he declares with a genuine smile, "that was long overdue."

"I know," Peter tries not to sound contrite, "But try to imagine breaking up with Anouk. It would be harder than you think."

Aiman stares at him blankly for a moment before looking down at his hands around his bottle. He visibly swallows, nodding slowly.

"I can't even imagine it," he confesses.

"There," Peter says, but his voice is sympathetic, "you have the reason why it took me so long."

His friend hums, taking a gulp of his water.

"You know, about Mockinjay..."

His tone makes Peter's eyes return to Aiman. He waits patiently for the Werewolf to continue. He is looking at the other on stage before his gaze settles on Peter, and he smiles gently but hesitantly.

"What about him?"

But Aiman shakes his head. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

His eyes then briefly return to Saifa. He looks pensive. "He's almost done for the night," he eventually declares as he stands. "I have to go back to work. My break's over. But he'll probably come to see you."

"I would hope so. He's the one who asked me to come," Peter mumbles as he takes a sip of his beer.

Aiman looks surprised at his words and raises his brows, amused. "And you came? Because he asked you? Who are you, and what have you done to my friend?" He laughs.

Peter is about to answer something but stops, his mouth open. He considers. Aiman is right. It would have been anybody else; he would have said no, that he is too tired to go out, which would have been true. Even Anouk, whom he loves with his whole heart, always has to argue for hours with him before she can convince him to go out, even if it's only for a drink. But Saifa only came with his smile, caramel skin and fluffy hair, and that had been enough. Well, not really. He had blushed, slight pink dusting the high of his cheekbones and the pointy tip of his ears. And Peter had found it cute.

What in the bloody Four Hells is happening to him?

Aiman, witnessing his internal argument, only laughs louder, shaking his head amusingly as he taps Peter's shoulder in comfort.

"Hang it there, mate," he declares before walking away. Peter turns around, trying to ask what Aiman had meant, but the pub is too loud, and his friend is already too far, and he doesn't hear him.

He cusses.

What is wrong with him?

He shouldn't have come. That was a mistake. He needs to leave, go to sleep and perhaps talk to Anouk. Maybe she has an answer. Maybe she knows what is happening to him. But whatever it is — and he thinks he knows, but the idea is so terrifying, so terrible that he refuses even to consider it — he doesn't like it one bit.

But then...

Then, his eyes return to Saifa, and he can't move. He can't leave. Because Saifa is smiling at him. Just him. His green eyes resolutely on Peter, keeping him in his seat. He can't decently stand and leave as the Fae watches him so... Happily. So, Peter settles back down against his chair, swallowing all of his fears, all his doubts and apprehensions, and simply keep listening to Saifa's melodious voice.

It's alright, he thinks to himself. It's alright. It has to.