Chapter Text
“So let me get this straight,” Sayed said slowly. “The residual curse that was on you turned into. . . moon frogs?”
“Yeah,” Aaron said, sitting back in the chair. He’d found Sayed during his lunch break the Wednesday after the Frog incident, wanting to tell the other doctor about it. Sayed’s office was comfortable, with a few photographs of his family on his desk, his degrees hung on the walls, and evening light streamed through the slats of the blinds, dappling part of the linoleum floor in front of the closed door.
Sayed frowned. “That is. . . the most unusual thing I’ve heard,” he said slowly. “We only deal in medical curses, so this is out of my understanding. Have there been any other weird incidents?”
Aaron chewed on his bottom lip as he thought through the past week of Exy practices before launching into telling Sayed about the past few practices. He’d had three backfires that resulted in him growing talons for a brief moment, his hair turning bright purple (to Neil’s utter delight), and trailing glittery dust until he literally dumped an entire gallon of moon water over his head in the shower.
Sayed’s frown grew the longer Aaron spoke. “This is unusual for Exy curses, right?” He asked after a moment.
“Yeah, and none of these are new balls. Sometimes, new packages of Exy balls need to be calibrated a little because they’ll be a little strong, but usually all that needs to happen is that it gets triggered once or twice,” Aaron explained.
“Do you know the history of the building?” The older doctor asked, tapping his fingers on the desk as he thought.
Aaron shook his head. “It’s a new building, there wouldn’t have been any time or incidents for any curses to build up in any areas.”
“Weird,” Sayed muttered to himself. “Have you been wearing gloves when you treat players?” He asked, changing the subject.
“The first two times, I didn’t. The other times I did,” Aaron said. “It makes no difference.”
“Double weird.”
Aaron waited for a few minutes, watching as Sayed looked off into the distance, continuing to tap his fingers. “So, what’s your advice?” He prompted.
“I think you should do some research, and in the meantime, make a protective charm. That should at least mitigate it a bit,” Sayed said.
“Any particular advice on what kind of charm?”
“I’d say go with one that’s hard to break. Sometimes, curses like to try and aim at protective charms.”
“Why?”
Sayed shrugged. “There’s a lot of theories. I think the one that makes the most sense to me is the idea that like magics go with opposite magics. If you have protection, someone’s not going to aim at you without getting rid of it first, right?”
“Right, that makes sense,” Aaron hummed. “But what about the moon frogs? They’re not necessarily a like magic if they’re a backfire from a physical curse that affects someone.”
“That’s a good point. Have you done any research on them?”
“There’s not a ton out there. Some anecdotes off the internet that you can only barely believe, a few articles in batrachology journals, that’s about it.”
“Have you tried contacting one of the universities?”
“I don’t really see the point.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask if there’s a herpetologist or someone else that specializes in magical frogs,” Sayed said. “I imagine it’s similar to us – we’re doctors, firstly, and then we treat curses secondarily. I imagine CU or CSU would know someone.”
“Alright, thanks,” Aaron said. “I’ll let you know if something interesting happens.”
“Perfect, see you later! I have rounds tomorrow, if you’ll join me on that.”
“Absolutely, as long as Astrid clears me.” Sayed gave him a thumbs-up as Aaron left his office.
Aaron finished his shift after a few hours and immediately headed home before going to the local magical supply shop. He still hadn’t finished unpacking, just unpacked enough to get by – kitchen dishes, pots and pans, a few books, his bedding, and that was about it. Aaron parked and grabbed his bag from the backseat before heading up. It was dinnertime, and the apartment building smelled like garlic and spaghetti. Aaron’s stomach growled, and he remembered he still hadn’t gone grocery shopping – he’d spent all day Sunday in bed, Saturday had been the game; it was now Wednesday.
He briefly stopped in front of apartment 11, Kevin’s apartment, as he heard some loud classical piano vaguely leaking under the door. Some things never change, Aaron thought to himself. He still listens to Chopin when he’s cooking. Kevin was a decent cook. Not as good as Andrew, but markedly better than Aaron. Aaron briefly thought of the dinner Kevin had given him a few days ago. I should bake something and return it in the tupperware. It’s only fair. Aaron took a deep breath and turned away, trudging down the hall to his apartment.
He changed into jeans and a t-shirt before feeding the frogs. They were still alive, to his great surprise, and even seemed. . . sentient? The second they spotted Aaron, they lined up in a row at the bottom of the tank, blinking at him with empty eyes. That’s fucking weird, Aaron thought as he pulled out the container of crickets and the moon dust. The vet had informed him that while the frogs ate things most frogs ate, they also needed supplemental moon dust. It was a misnomer – the dust wasn’t actually from the moon, but it was leftover residue from evaporated moon water. He could make it himself, but it’d take a few months, so in the meantime, Aaron had bought a container.
Aaron dusted the crickets and fed the frogs as the vet had taught him how to do – use some long tweezers to grab one, wave it in front of each frog until they caught on. To his surprise, the frogs remained polite as he fed them, not even attempting to eat the cricket the other one was eating. “Are you robots?” He asked them as he closed the lid of the crickets. They didn’t say anything. One of them finished chewing and slapped his eye with his tongue. Aaron made a face before turning away.
“Okay, now dinner for me,” he mumbled to himself, heading into the kitchen and opening the cabinet. There wasn’t a lot: cereal, pasta, a can of tuna, some canned vegetables. I guess I’m having cereal, he sighed to himself. As he munched on his cereal, he started going through the other, unpacked boxes in an attempt to find his spell ingredients, which were in the second-to-last box.
Aaron finished his cereal and unpacked the spell ingredients and a couple of books he had. He started flipping through one, looking for inspiration on what exactly to use. It needs to be something lasting, something that’s not easily broken, he thought. Honestly, a bracelet with just an onyx bead would work fine. It’s even better if it’s something that’s made with protection in mind – like Andrew’s sweaters Neil has knitted him. I don’t know Neil’s magic, but even I can feel the anti-nightmare spells that emanate off of it. Aaron flipped to a page with an illustrated protective bracelet in black, white, blue, and green with a few black stones woven in. Ugh. I’m not crafty enough for this, Aaron thought, staring at the picture. But I can at least get an onyx or hematite from the store. That’s something I don’t have. And I can stop at the craft store for thread.
Aaron’s phone started ringing. Why’s Andrew calling? “Yeah?” He answered, sticking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he found a pen and piece of paper to make a list for the craft store.
“We’ve been waiting outside for ten minutes. Or did you forget about practice?” Fuck. I forgot.
“Be right down,” Aaron hurriedly said, hanging up on his brother. He quickly changed into a spare pair of medical cargos he had before running out the door, water bottle and coat in his hands. He didn’t even think about the t-shirt he was wearing, the fact that his almost fully-healed stitched up arm was exposed. He’d just taken the stitches out so it didn’t look as bad as it did, but it was still a patch of smooth, bright pink skin.
Aaron flung himself into Andrew’s car, not even thinking about the fact that Neil was driving. The music flicked off and Aaron looked up from buckling himself to see Andrew glaring at him from the passenger seat.
“What’s that from?” Andrew immediately asked.
“Wha–oh, this?” Aaron asked, lifting his right arm slightly to indicate the healing scar. Andrew didn’t answer, but the slight spark against Aaron’s fingers said everything. Aaron rolled his eyes. Of course he’s being this way, dick. “It was an accident, Andrew.”
“That’s exactly what Til–”
“Take a deep breath before you say that,” Aaron said irritatedly. Gone were the days where Andrew would rip at Aaron’s open wounds and Aaron would say nothing. Gone were the days where Andrew would say anything with no thought or repercussions.
Andrew waited a moment before turning and poking Neil, who began driving. After a minute, Andrew turned back around. “What happened?”
Aaron thought back to the archaeologist, the way his fingers had sharpened into long, black talons, eyes bleeding profusely. “Archaeologist got cursed and grew scary fucking claws.”
Andrew looked surprised enough that Aaron immediately felt better. See, asshole, my job is interesting.
“That can happen?” Neil asked, interrupting Andrew’s surprised silence.
“Yeah, why do you think the Catholic Church has an archive full of infernal, cursed shit?”
“They do?” Neil asked, turning around in the seat to look at Aaron, his eyes an even creepier, brighter color.
“Neil, whatever you’re thinking, no,” Andrew said derisively. “We don’t need you catching beef with the Catholic Church on top of everything else.”
“No, please do,” Aaron said with a wicked grin. “I’d love to see Josten loose on the Catholic Church.”
“Absolutely not,” Andrew said, glaring at Aaron again. “Anyway, was it a backfire?”
Aaron shrugged. “Probably not, considering it’s healed up. You have to remove the curse before the wound will heal.”
“I didn’t know that,” Neil mumbled. “Is that why my face didn’t heal until the FBI had found the knife and done something with it?”
“Yeah, they had to remove the curse on it so that you could heal.” Aaron vividly remembered helping Abby change the dressings on Neil’s face, the way the lacerations oozed black and green, the way that they refused to heal until a week after Baltimore, when the FBI called to let them know that they’d located Lola’s knife. The time in waiting for them to locate it caused the lacerations to scar more deeply than otherwise. Even now, Andrew told Aaron one time that Neil’s scars still ached from time to time.
“So you’re okay?” Andrew interrupted the silence as they pulled into the parking lot.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” As okay as I can be with being a medical student and dealing with a breakup and a move and feeling like I don’t belong anywhere. But I’m not about to say that with Neil in the car. Or ever.
Aaron got out of the car and shut the door behind himself, waiting for Neil to round the car before saying, “By the way, Neil.”
“Yeah?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Andrew ignored the two of them and started for the outside court doors.
“Do you need any more salve? I can mix it up whenever you need.” Neil blinked, and Aaron felt a strange, staticky magic slide over his hands. That’s new. “You don’t need to check for an ulterior motive,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “I’m a doctor, I’m offering to help because I heard you complaining last week about how stiff your scars are right now.”
The magic retreated. “Sorry,” Neil said with a grimace. “Old habits die hard. Yeah, as long as it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Not at all,” Aaron said as they caught up to Andrew who was holding the door open and tapping his foot. “I’ll get it to you by the end of practice.”
“Thanks,” Neil said awkwardly as the door slammed shut behind him. Aaron merely offered him a thumbs up before heading to the med bay.
Practice was going fine until it didn’t, when a ball managed to hit Neil in the ankle. The curse took effect and went for his shoelaces. Aaron saw it – felt it – happen right before Neil’s laces undid themselves. I would warn him, but I’m behind the boards. Aaron watched as two steps later, Neil stepped on his laces and fell. He easily got back up, but as he was placing his left foot down to retie his laces, his ankle twisted. What the fuck, Aaron thought, standing there for a moment before hurrying onto the court. That looks like the curse stuck. That’s not supposed to happen.
Andrew was already standing over Neil with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face as Neil argued with him.
“I’m fine, I just twisted my ankle,” Neil protested, putting his foot back up. His eye twitched, and Aaron knew that’s how Neil was faking it.
“Let the medical professional decide,” he said, coming up to the pair.
“I’m fine, Aaron,” Neil snapped. “What Exy player doesn’t twist their ankle from time to time?”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “Fine, stand up.” Andrew offered his hand and Aaron hastily added, “Without your husband’s help.” Andrew and Neil both glared at him for the acknowledgement, but Andrew retracted his hand and crossed his arms again.
Neil managed to stand, but Aaron could see that he was putting his weight on his right foot. “I just need a minute, I’ll be fine,” Neil said.
Aaron stared at him for a full minute before he checked his watch. “It’s been a minute, are you fine?”
Neil’s mouth flattened and he tried taking a step, only to stumble slightly, ignoring Andrew’s outstretched hand. “Maybe another minute,” he mumbled.
“Nope, come on, let’s go to the med bay,” Aaron said. “I know Andrew normally helps you, but I’m concerned that the curse is sticking around so can you lean on me instead?”
“Why can’t I?” Andrew asked stubbornly.
Aaron took a deep breath. It’s not that he doesn’t trust me, it’s that he’s just protective. “If the curse backfires, I’d prefer for it to backfire on me rather than you,” Aaron said calmly.
Neil muttered something in Russian, and Andrew stepped back to allow Aaron to slide his arm across Neil’s shoulders, allowing the taller man to lean on him as they limped off the court.
As they passed Brad, he looked over and yelled, “Good, Minyard?”
“Yep, got this handled!” Aaron called back. Brad gave him a thumbs-up, and they moved on. Aaron deposited Neil on the table before pulling a pair of gloves on and sitting on the rolling chair. “I’m just going to remove your shoe and sock,” he said absently as he scooted up to Neil, easily sliding into what Katelyn had coined his doctor mode. He always made sure to tell patients what he was doing before he did it, no matter what age they were.
Neil’s ankle was already swollen as Aaron took off his shoe and began rolling Neil’s sock down his leg, ignoring as Neil hissed in pain. Already forming a hematoma and swelling around the joint, he noted to himself. Neil’s heel was turning an angry purple. “I’m just going to feel it really quick,” he said to Neil. “I need to see if the bone is still in place or not.”
“Just do it, don’t narrate.”
“Narrating is what I do, Josten,” Aaron said, carefully pressing. He was glad he’d warned Neil, as Neil jerked when he pressed lightly on Neil’s fibula right where it joined his foot. Neil’s foot narrowly missed Aaron’s eye as Aaron leaned back in time to avoid taking a toe to the eye. Okay, I felt some of the bone shift when he did that, didn’t like that, but it might’ve just been a weird sensation. Lessen the pain a little and then go poking around. Aaron leaned back and pulled off his gloves as he got up, heading to the cabinets.
“What now?” Neil asked irritatedly.
“Can’t exactly assess you if you’re going to kick me in the face,” Aaron said, grabbing the salve he was looking for, carefully marked meadowsweet-poppy. Salves didn’t do much for anything except skin, but Aaron had learned that they were great conductors for energy. With the right placement, it could be used as a field numbing agent in some cases – the effect wouldn’t last as long as proper anesthetic, but it was good enough for situations like this.
He returned to Neil and put on new gloves. “I’m just going to lessen the pain a little and then try again,” he said. Neil nodded. By this point, Andrew was standing behind Neil, watching his brother like a hawk.
“What is it?” Andrew asked as Aaron grabbed a tongue depressor and scooped some salve out before beginning to carefully rub it into Neil’s skin.
“Meadowsweet and poppy, they’re just mild numbing agents,” Aaron said. “Salves don’t do a whole lot, but they’re good energy conductors.”
“What does that mean?” Neil asked, curious.
Aaron didn’t answer, instead choosing to press his thumb against the fibula again and reach for his magic. Pain removal wasn’t something often done as it transferred onto the healer. Accept too much pain, and then you’re even more useless than the patient, one of Aaron’s professors had informed the class. You can’t get rid of energy or pain, but just transfer it. Only do pain removal when you are in a field setting, and even then, do it sparingly. If you have twenty patients to go through, you’ll be immobilized by the fourth one. Aaron siphoned off just enough that he could tell when it was enough, as Neil’s leg relaxed under his grip.
“Oh, it feels better,” Neil said, perking up. He shifted, and Aaron grabbed his knee to stop him.
“Doesn’t mean you’re actually healed, dumbass,” Aaron said. The pain had decided to settle in his head, triggering a migraine. Just my fucking luck. He shuttered that thought away, shoved it down. He had a job to do. “All I did was take away the pain slightly.”
Aaron saw Andrew frown slightly, but he redirected his attention back to Neil’s ankle. This time, he was able to feel the fibula shift slightly. Okay, potential broken fibula tip. He moved down Neil’s foot, feeling the bones. One of them shifted slightly when he pressed on it, and when he looked closer, Aaron could see it as a raised bump.
“Take a deep breath,” Aaron said. When Neil let it out, Aaron pressed hard on the bone and felt it pop into place. Neil flinched. “Did you feel it?” Aaron asked.
“Kinda, but it didn’t hurt.”
“Cool,” Aaron said. The migraine was already beginning to tighten around his head, burrowing into his eyes. “I’m guessing you broke the tip of your fibula, so that means you have to go to the hospital and get x-rays to confirm it,” he said, rolling back to grab a splint from the cabinet.
“I’ll go get the car then,” Andrew announced. Aaron turned around just in time to see Andrew slip out of the door.
“Can’t you just wave your hands and fix it?” Neil asked irritatedly as Aaron shuffled through the cabinet. “You’re the one with healing magic.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Aaron said, finding the splint and rolling back to Neil. “I can lessen the pain, which is why I just set that foot bone manually without you screaming in pain. But magic can’t fix bone because it fucks with the cells. Magic does weird things to cells.”
“Does it?” Neil asked, clearly surprised.
“If it didn’t, we wouldn’t need hospitals,” Aaron said as he began putting on the splint. “There’s a popular case study everyone goes through in school, Marcus Budby – he thought he could fix his warts by fucking with the cells, but the cells turned cancerous and he died in a week.”
“Holy shit,” Neil said, eyebrows raising. “Okay, yeah, don’t fuck with my bones. I need them.”
Aaron snorted. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to fuck with your bones. You’re much more tolerable alive than dead.” Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. It’s not that I hate him anymore, he’s just gotten more tolerable. Aaron stared at Neil, who stared back at him, eyes wide before the corners of his mouth twitched.
“You like me?”
“Liking you alive doesn’t mean that we’re friends,” Aaron said, looking away from Neil.
“Well, the sentiment is returned then,” Neil said after a pause. “I tolerate you more than I did in college.”
“Watch out, at this rate we’ll be besties when we’re 60,” Aaron snorted, turning away to put away the medical supplies.
“Besties? You’ve been hanging out with Allison too much,” Neil said as he sat up, dangling his legs back down over the edge of the bench.
“I haven’t seen her since she graduated, dumbass. I spend too much time on the internet. And Katelyn often says that word, anyway.”
“You don’t talk to any of the Foxes?” Andrew interrupted from the doorway.
Aaron shrugged. He’d long accepted that he was merely tolerated by everyone else, even though his therapist in Chicago often pushed back on it. “Go to the hospital,” he said to Andrew, pointing at Neil. “I’m qualified to do basic bone setting, but he needs x-rays to make sure I didn’t fuck anything up and to see if that fibula will need setting.”
“You definitely didn’t fuck up,” Andrew snorted. “Come on, junkie. Let’s go.” He offered Neil his arm and then wrapped his arm around Neil’s waist, letting the taller man lean on him. Aaron watched as they limped out of the room. Damn, I’m going to have to take an uber home. Aaron quickly threw away the trash from taping Neil’s ankle as he headed back to the court.
Practice was just wrapping up, and to Aaron’s relief, nobody else had gotten hit by a ball. He snagged his water bottle full of Gatorade and chugged the bright orange liquid, hoping that the extra electrolytes would help his migraine, which was already making lights hurt. Aaron went through the motions of re-checking the players who had gotten a curse before heading back to the med bay to finish cleaning up. Aaron pulled the sanitary paper off the table the various players had sat on, tearing it and throwing it away before sanitizing the table. While it sanitized, Aaron started going through the curse supplies, checking the levels of the bottles of moon water, sun water, salves, and other ointments.
Aaron stepped back from the cabinet, holding a tin of agrimony salve when his left ankle twisted underneath him. Aaron grunted as he fell, the tin clattering loudly to the floor as he managed to catch himself on the tiled floor, the tile sending painful shockwaves up his wrists. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, turning over and sitting down, carefully setting his left foot down and wincing as pain streaked up his leg. He looked over at the tin that had rolled away from him, too far for him to grab. The salve started trickling out of the tin and onto the floor. Motherfucker, did Neil’s curse backfire on me?
Aaron ignored the tin and rolled up his pants, panic immediately hitting him squarely in the chest the second he saw the hematoma forming around his ankle, the way it had already started swelling. Okay, it’s fine, it’s fine, he tried to tell himself. You’re okay, it’s just a bruise. You’ve walked on worse injuries, he reminded himself, shutting his eyes and recalling all the different ways he’d managed to twist his ankle at Palmetto. After the fourth one, he felt slightly more at ease.
“Okay, time to get up,” Aaron told himself, trying to get up without putting weight on his left ankle. After trying twice and failing, he realized he had to crawl over to the counter and pull himself up. He was halfway to the counter when the med bay door slammed open.
“Aaron, did you see–” Kevin stopped in the doorway, the door softly shutting behind him. “Do you need help?”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Aaron gritted out, reaching up to the counter. He was halfway through painfully pulling himself up when Kevin’s scarred hand entered his field of vision. He ignored it and finished pulling himself up, hopping around on one foot to turn around. Aaron blinked, and his mouth went dry as he realized that Kevin was a lot closer than he’d been expecting. Aaron blinked up at Kevin, who was frowning down at him.
“What happened?” Kevin asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Why do you have to cross your arms like that, Jesus fuck, Aaron swiftly thought before shifting onto his left foot, pain shooting up his leg.
“Twisted my ankle,” Aaron said sulkily. “Neil’s curse backfired on me.”
“Is that usual?”
“Kevin, you were there four days ago when a bunch of curses backfired on me. This isn’t normal but it’s normal right now,” Aaron snapped.
Kevin didn’t take the bait and instead shifted topics. “Looks more like a sprain,” he said, nodding down at Aaron’s ankle. “You need to wrap it.”
“Who’s in medical school?” Aaron snapped, wanting to drive Kevin away, wanting him to not have to witness Aaron’s soft underbelly, have to witness how weak Aaron was.
Kevin rolled his eyes. “You are, doc, but you can’t exactly hop around getting all the supplies to wrap your ankle.”
“Yeah I can,” Aaron argued, crossing his own arms.
Kevin looked up to the ceiling and said something in Irish before offering Aaron his hand. “I get it, you don’t want help. Andrew will flay me alive if he finds out that I didn’t help his brother when he was injured.”
Kevin made a good point. Andrew would also flay me alive if he found out I was injured and didn’t let anyone help, Aaron thought. Without a word, he placed his hand in Kevin’s. Kevin gave Aaron a small smile, and Aaron’s stomach flipped. Aaron leaned against Kevin as he hopped over to one of the rolling chairs. The rattle of his head as he hopped sent shockwaves up into his head.
“Can you open that cabinet and get out an ace bandage?” Aaron gritted out as soon as Kevin gently dropped his hand.
“Which one?” Kevin asked, turning around. Aaron was in the direct eyeline of Kevin’s ass, his sweatpants clinging horrifically nicely. Aaron banished that thought immediately and pointed to the middle cabinet.
“It should be on the middle shelf,” he said. To Aaron’s relief, Kevin understood exactly what he meant and quickly brought him a new ace bandage. Aaron let Kevin hold it while he carefully unlaced his shoe and pulled off his sock.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you still wore those socks,” Kevin said, sounding surprised.
“Huh?” Aaron asked, looking up. He pushed up his glasses back up his nose with the back of his hand as he looked up at the striker.
Kevin blinked a couple times and then said, “Y’know, the hedgehog socks I got you?” He said hesitantly, nodding down at Aaron’s socks.
“Oh,” Aaron said. I forgot I put those on this morning. “Well, yeah. Hedgehogs are my favorite animal. And frogs, of course.” Aaron let the silence wrap around the two of them as he grabbed the bandage from Kevin and finished wrapping his ankle before gingerly lacing his shoe back up.
“I still have mine too,” Kevin said quietly as Aaron stood up, shoving his sock into his pocket.
“You do?” Aaron asked. He vividly remembered picking out the socks for Christmas, deciding on a pair of sloth patterned socks out of pure irony. Kevin had been delighted by them, also laughing at the irony of a striker wearing sloths.
“Well, yeah,” Kevin said defensively. “They’re comfortable.”
“I suppose so,” Aaron said, carefully standing up and testing his weight on his ankle. It hurt, but it did not hurt as bad as before. Okay, I’ll be able to go to my shift tomorrow, Aaron thought with relief. I just have to take my migraine meds soon. Hopefully it’s not too late.
“Andrew and Neil went to the hospital, right?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “Can you hand me the paper towel over–”
“No, you sit, I’ll clean,” Kevin said irritatedly.
After glaring at each other for a minute, Aaron huffed and sat back down. Kevin smirked, satisfied that he won the battle. Aaron’s stomach weirdly turned, and for a brief moment Aaron wondered if he’d gotten food poisoning. It passed too quickly for it to be food poisoning, so Aaron chalked it up to residual anxiety.
“So, what’s this used for?” Kevin asked as he finished cleaning up the salve. “It smells nice.”
“There’s a wide variety of applications,” Aaron said after a moment. “It’s really helpful for wounds that might have come into contact with a cursed object or something.”
“That can happen?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah, it happens a lot more than you think. Say you fall and scrape your hands, and then clean a grave. There’s a high likelihood you’re going to get a curse and the scrapes won’t heal until it’s removed.”
“Whoa,” Kevin said, standing back up and setting the tin on the counter. “Curses are a lot more common than I thought.”
Aaron shrugged. “Yes and no. It all depends on what you do – a huge portion of people will come into contact with childhood curses and nothing else. If you handle old things, you’re more likely to come across them.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause old things hold onto emotions and memories,” Aaron explained. “Most old things aren’t even necessarily cursed, they just. . . build up energy and then explode all over someone. Mostly metaphorically speaking,” he hastily added.
“So. . . curses can sometimes be like people?” Kevin asked, leaning against the counter again and crossing his arms.
Aaron nodded. “Basically.” The migraine sharpened into spikes and he sighed, absently rubbing his fingertips against his temples.
“You okay?” Kevin asked, voice a tad gentler.
“Yeah, just a migraine,” Aaron said. “I just have to take meds for it before it’s too late.”
“When’s too late?”
“Three hours after it kicked in,” Aaron said. “What time is it?”
“10:18,” Kevin said.
“Okay, I have a little bit of time,” Aaron said. “I’m going home,” he said. He was back to wanting to cry, so he distracted himself by gathering his stuff back up.
“I’ll drive you home,” Kevin said. “Andrew and Neil left, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Aaron said miserably. He followed Kevin out, flicking off the lights as he went. He sighed in relief when the cool air outside hit his face. He didn’t bother putting his coat on, even though Kevin shivered and shrugged his own on.
Aaron followed Kevin to his car, a sleek, dark green Rivian. “Oh, so you’re one of the assholes that has the LED lights brighter than the surface of the sun,” Aaron said as he opened the car door.
“I need to see,” Kevin argued.
“You need to see people picking their noses at night?” Aaron shot back. “Also, Denver is well lit where we live anyway. If you can see other people’s faces in their cars, then the lights are too bright or unadjusted.”
“I’ll adjust them then, if you feel so strongly,” Kevin grumbled. He turned on the car and immediately turned the music off as his phone connected, shutting off some random classical piece that began playing. Aaron didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kevin was being deliberately conscientious.
“I don’t feel strongly about anything,” Aaron shot back. He slid down the seat, closing his eyes as his migraine throbbed with every bright light that passed. Kevin didn’t bother responding, instead just letting Aaron sit quietly. At one point, Aaron thought he heard Kevin humming under his breath. Aaron had to admit, he appreciated how Kevin had managed to learn to keep his thoughts to himself at times like these.
Until they were at a red light and Kevin asked, “Why do the curses keep backfiring on you?”
“I have no fucking clue,” Aaron said tiredly, not even bothering to open his eyes. “I was told to make a protective charm, but I haven’t had the time yet and I won’t have the time for like three days.”
“What do you need for it?”
“An onyx bead and some white, black, and blue threads. Then I have to figure out how to make a damn bracelet with them, then do the whole rigamarole of enchanting it,” Aaron said. The thought of the amount of effort required to even get the supplies, let alone make the bracelet, was exhausting.
Kevin didn’t respond for a few minutes, speaking up right when Aaron felt like he was about to nod off. “I could get the stuff for you tomorrow, if you want,” he offered.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. I’m offering.”
What’s in it for him, doing this though? Aaron thought. I don’t understand why he’d do something for me when I’ve made it clear we’re not friends anymore, nor will we ever be again. At that thought, a pang of guilt mixed with hurt made its way into Aaron’s stomach. He shoved it away. It doesn’t matter that he knew me better than the others did, he reminded himself. He still said what he said, made it clear what he actually thinks of me.
“Just think about it,” Kevin interrupted Aaron’s thoughts. “Let me know.”
“Alright, I’ll think about it,” Aaron mumbled. He stayed quiet as Kevin parked and they made their way to the building, mulling over Kevin’s offer. It would make it easier for me to fit in making it and enchanting it if I didn’t have to get the supplies.
Aaron followed Kevin into the building and lingered at Kevin’s door while Kevin unlocked it. “Fine,” he said irritatedly. He didn’t want to accept anything from Kevin, didn’t want to owe Kevin anything at all, but every way he looked at it pointed to the fact that it was a good idea for him to allow Kevin to do what he offered. His ankle hurt and it would be sprained for a good couple weeks – the more time he had to rest it, the quicker it would heal.
“What?” Kevin asked, turning around, door half open.
“Fine, you can pick up the shit for me,” Aaron said irritatedly. Did you really have to make me say it out loud? “I’ll send you the specifics of what I need.”
Kevin blinked for a moment, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Y-yeah, sounds good,” he stuttered. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow and drop it off.”
“Thanks,” Aaron said, beginning to trudge off towards his own door. He didn’t want to stick around, didn’t want to see if Kevin was going to smile at the fact that he was accepting help – something Andrew remarked upon often that Aaron hardly did. Aaron wanted to escape the feeling of being seen in any way, his skin stripped off him to expose his bleeding heart. His ankle throbbed, his head throbbed, and he was tired.
Aaron got into his apartment and took off his shoes, throwing the rest of his things on the couch. He looked at the pile of dishes in his sink, flicked off the light, and went to bed.