Nicholas returns to Darius' room, and they make a small deal over snacks.
...
Music sheets were tossed in various places, some new and some old: the desk, the night table-there were even some on Darius' bed, where he was sitting at the edge of, back turned to the wall. Nicholas hadn't known the last time he'd seen Darius working so hard, but he guessed well into the week that Darius wasn't working hard at his music at all.
He was working hard at drawing him out.
Following the incident, Nicholas had kept his mouth wisely shut. His aunt and uncle didn't so much as ask that day why he'd returned out of breath, assuming him to have gotten spooked by the Henderson's family pet again. Or that he was out of shape, which Nicholas had latched onto with a tired laugh. Any excuse he found rather than telling them the truth was better. If they had known he had not only escaped the human and been seen but had spoken with him, he was sure his guardians would have been disappointed. Not to mention they would all have had to move. Any other time, Nicholas would have agreed, but he liked it where they lived.
Plus, a part of him was intrigued by Darius' reaction itself as well, even though he knew he shouldn't have been thinking along the same lines as Michelle. So far though, Darius debunked everything everyone had thought about the humans. He hadn't even overhead Darius speaking about finding Nick with his siblings or friends over the phone. It had almost made Nick wonder if he'd forgotten about him altogether.
That was until the random music sheet placements, the more constant guitar playing, and the fact all of those sheets had fewer and fewer symbols on them as time progressed. He's baiting me, Nicholas thought time and time again as he would peer out from the wall, only the thinnest crack between the panels showing a glimpse of his eye. Sometimes, Darius would strike a sour chord that made Nicholas' flesh crawl. He had to wonder if that was on purpose too.
The family had already made their rounds the night before for a full week's supplies. Nicholas had no real reason to entertain Darius' fancies, but he also wouldn't have gone missed among the other borrowers either. His aunt was preparing ingredients and storing away cooking leaves; his uncle was making new furniture with the new cardboard pieces. Meanwhile, Michelle and her parents were trying to rearrange her room after a small leak had broken out from the bathroom, the room directly neighboring Philip's. Everyone was busy with something.
Inhaling, deep and long, Nick parted the panel, leaving enough of a gap for him to slide out of. After, he checked with one hand for the pin-needle and hook he kept at his hip while the other hand checked his handmade guitar. What are you doing, Nick...? Nicholas sighed out a nervous breath, stuck his hook into the edge of the headboard, and strapped on his suction tapes.
Getting yourself in trouble, is what.
He was proud of himself for not making any noise loud enough to attract Darius' attention, but he supposed he also had the guitar to thank for that, proving its alliance to him once more. The instrument wasn't as loud as the tinny, brass one his friend Harlem liked to use, but it had its own weight in voice to carry over a borrowers' tinier movements. The notes still played as Nicholas landed onto the desk's surface, giving a tug to the rope and letting his hook disconnect from its higher perch. Next, he ripped the tape off from his shoes, putting them back in the bag.
With his new closer proximity on the desk, and without the burden of Darius' eyes, Nicholas took a moment to peruse the mostly blank sheets of paper. As tradition, a pair of boxes divided into six sections were printed on the paper, followed by thick black circles and other shapes with tails. There were around five pieces of paper in total around the desk, and as Nicholas walked along their lined--though slightly askew--path, he noticed a bowl he hadn't seen when scouting. Approaching it closer, the smell of salt, crackers and strangely cheese twirled through his nose.
Filled to the brim, a bright orange, were tiny pieces of food that almost looked in the shape of...fish? Nicholas picked one up, turning it over in his hands then grabbing another to do the same. He expected them to have been differently patterned like Michelle's coin collection, but they were as perfect as twins. And this bowl contained a whole school of them.
The guitar playing trailed off and a five-pointed shadow fell over Nicholas. Gasping, he dropped the fish back into the bowl, spun around, and tripped over himself onto his backside. The hand had been mere inches from his form, and even as it reached into the bowl and not at him, it still made Nicholas shudder.
"Oh," came Darius' voice, his hand retreating from the bowl after grabbing a few of the fish-shaped crackers, "look what we have here. The mini hallucination."
How had Darius even heard him? Better yet, he'd had the perfect opportunity to grab Nicholas while he had been distracted. Yet he hadn't. Why?
"Would it really be so terrible if they found out?" Michelle's voice echoed in his ears.
Straightening his legs out in front of him then bending them to shield, Nicholas sat up a bit straighter, swallowed past the blockage in his throat. "Y-Yeah." He chuckled. "It's me again--the hallucination... Kinda wish I was. I shouldn't even be coming back here," he mumbled.
"And why did you?" Darius pressed, smirking.
Nicholas' eyes glanced over to the music sheets then back at Darius, noticing that his eyes too had lingered in the same direction. Soon enough, they pivoted back on Nicholas' form, intense as usual, if not somehow cocky. Darius stood up from his bedside while tossing his guitar against his hip via its strap, pulling out the chair near the fish bowl and taking a seat.
Darius appeared amused. "I see you're still extremely jumpy as ever."
Nick hadn't even realized he'd backpedaled far enough from the human until he'd neared the keyboard in front of his desktop screen. Any farther and his feet probably would have knocked against the black bar, tripping him a second time. He didn't understand why it was so impossible to believe he was jumpy--wouldn't he have been if faced with the same circumstances? Nicholas would have liked for the human to shrink down to his level. See how he felt.
Instead, Nick just laughed, short and halfhearted.
"So you never answered my questions from before. Some of them, at least," Darius said as he rolled the small orange crackers around in his palm, letting them settle on the tips of his fingers before bringing them toward his mouth. It was at that moment Nicholas decided to look away, but he still heard the distinct crunch beneath Darius' teeth. He'd always hated the sound whenever the Henderson's ate anything that required the hardness of their teeth, reminding him too much of what a borrower's bones could sound like. Darius continued speaking, unaware of Nicholas' internal plight, "What are you? If not fairy or sprite or whatever."
"A borrower."
"...a what now?"
"A borrower," Nicholas enunciated more slowly this time. It was helping him stave the tremble from his voice, at least. "You weren't wrong about the whole music thing, I guess. We--my kind, I mean. Borrowers borrow things from humans...nothing like stealing though! We absolutely don't do that."
Darius snorted, planting his elbow on the table, balancing his chin in his hand. "Right. You just borrow things that I probably won't get back. Totally not stealing. Right?"
If only he had known about the coins...then he could have called him and Michelle thieves. Still, Nick winced. "It's just bits of food. Cardboard," he gestured to his miniature guitar, "things that usually aren't missed. We're not supposed to be seen either. So if you could keep me a secret from your brother and sister, and your parents, that'd be a...great help. Also not putting me in a jar--how are you so calm about this?"
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
Nicholas waved his hands. "Don't get me wrong, it's...comforting you are, but I've only ever heard humans try to capture us. Or kill us. Think we're pests or something to be studied," he murmured.
"Are there more of you around--?"
"No it's just me," Nick cut in.
"Why waste that then?" With his now empty hand, Darius propped that elbow onto the desk too. His fingers drummed against his cheek in soft, percussive taps. "I did think about catching you before, but usually, you only do that for things that can't talk back to you or understand you. You're clearly a little person, and if you didn't think, you wouldn't be studying music, of all things. How's that going by the way? Learned to read a score yet?"
Nicholas blinked, the unfamiliar term catching him by surprise. A score usually meant numbers, but with the turn in conversation, and a glance down at his feet, all Nicholas could see were the music sheets. Was that what they were called? When he looked back up to Darius' close-lipped smirk, he realized the young adult's con now. They both had something the other wanted. Was it worth jeopardizing his safety until Darius tired of him?
A clatter of material breaking apart flinched Nick from his thoughts as he stared down at the desk's surface. Now in front of him was a small pile of the orange, fish crackers from the bowl, a few crumbs from their impact scattered against the wood. He looked to Darius, his lingering hand, then back, hesitating. The blonde rolled his eyes.
"If you're worried they're drugged, you just saw me eat a few. Relax. They're called goldfish crackers. You said you borrowed food, so consider me giving you a meal," he said. He scooted back from his desk, slouched in the leather chair, and settled his guitar in his lap. "You, in return, now have to show me what you know on those little strings of yours, pipsqueak. Maybe I'll even teach you how to carry a tune."
Frowning, Nicholas took a painstaking amount of time for his behind to connect with the table, unstrapping his rubberband box from his shoulder to mimic Darius' posture.
"It's Nick," he said, but he raised a brow back at him, fingers setting to work against his own chords. A half-smile tugged at his lips. "Not pipsqueak."