(Summary for previous chapter: Shyba confronts a group of bullies as they are trying to hurt Kiara. He fights them off, deliberately breaking the arm of one asailant, causing Kiara to become frightened and later ask Shyba not to fight anymore.)

Kiara—

The world outside my head is at peace. The crickets are singing to each other, the wind rustles softly through the foliage, and the moon lies a gentle blanket of light on the otherwise darkened ranch. 

But my mind is in chaos over what transpired today. My heart hasn’t quite slowed down since we left. I wonder more and more about where Shyba had come from, what he has seen.

A branch snaps off a tree somewhere outside and a chill runs up my spine. The same sound… He never even blinked when he broke the guy’s arm. Expressionless throughout the whole fight. But there was one time I noticed any emotion from him: his fist was shaking in rage when he had the girl by the neck. Then it hits me. She’s the one that first made fun of his eyes.

I let out a sigh, and that finally seems to ease my pounding heart a bit. Still, I don’t feel like he is a threat. All of that was just in self defense. Right? 

My mind continues to roam around in circles until I finally have had enough. I kick off the sheets and go downstairs to grab a cup of milk. While in the kitchen, I suddenly catch movement out on the porch and my heart quickens again.

I tiptoe up to the window and peek through. Shyba is sitting out on the porch, alone. He is so motionless, I wonder if he fell asleep. But I think I heard… a sigh? Maybe he can’t sleep either.

I go back to the kitchen and make two cups of hot chocolate. Before I go out, I take a deep breath. When I emerge from the kitchen he looks back, his eyes widening a bit and then looking away quickly. My heart sinks a little. He still holds so much shame, but I wish he would just look at me eye-to-eye. 

“Here. I hope you like hot chocolate,” I say, handing it to him.

He takes the cup from me. “Thank you.”

I take a seat beside him. The silence between us is unbearable, so I decide to speak up. “Shyba,” I mutter, “I… I’m sorry. I think I hurt your feelings earlier today.”

“Ah… It is okay,” he says, still not making eye contact.

“No, it’s not. I mean, I really am grateful you came to help me, and now that I think about it, I didn’t even say thank you. So… thank you. ”

“Nn… ” His tone is dry. 

“And I’m sorry… for what she said to you about your eyes.”

There is silence again. I am unable to think of what to say and he doesn’t respond. I quietly sip my hot chocolate. Why am I so awkward?

“This place is so strange to me,” he mutters. I turn to look at him as he stares into the cup. “Everything I know is wrong. I do not know how to live here.”

I feel elated. He is actually trying to talk to me! “It’s alright. We can teach you, if you like. Don’t feel like you have to rush, though. Take your time, okay?”

Slowly, I savor the cocoa. I look back over noticing he hasn’t tried his yet. “Do you not want it?” I ask.

He glances up as though coming out of a reverie and then back down at the cup. He takes a sip. I notice his brows lift a bit and he takes another sip. I smile. It seems the near impenetrable wall he has around himself is coming down even just a tiny bit every day. I find myself wondering how he would look with a smile on his face.

I look up to admire the night sky, the moon hanging amongst the millions of stars. But I notice Shyba’s gaze is fixated on the ground. “The stars sure are pretty tonight,” I say.

He glances up--by his expression, I could’ve surmised that he had never seen a sky full of stars before. For a moment we stare up at the magnificent scene before us. Then a shooting star streaks across the sky, making my heart leap.

“Shyba, did you see that? A shooting star! Quick! Make a wish!” I shut my eyes and with every fiber of my being I make one wish.

Please, I want to see Shyba smile with all his heart.

I open my eyes and look over. “Did you make a wish?”

“I do not have luck at wishes,” he mutters, glancing downward again.

My heart sinks. It is probably too late for him to wish now. “Well, if mine comes true, that may change,” I say.

He doesn’t pay much heed to what I said, and instead pulls at his bangs. How much has he been bullied because of his eyes?

“Hey, I…” I mutter, “I just want you to know that I think your eyes are really pretty.”

The look of shock on his face is priceless, and I can get a good look at his wide eyes. It was the truth--in the moonlight, his eyes glitter like rubies. I’m trying to read if his gaze is appreciative, or perhaps challenging me, assuming I may think twice and look away. But I hold his gaze, admiring everything about his marvelous irises, the sharp corners of his eyes, the soft wave of his eyelashes… 

He breaks the gaze, turning away so I cannot see his face. I might have embarrassed him. Feeling a yawn coming on, I decide to head back to my room. 

“I’m going to bed,” I say and finish off the last bit of my cocoa. “Have a good night, Shyba.” He doesn’t even respond as I head back into the house. 

As I curl up in bed, I look out the window once more, hoping that this time, my wish will come true.

Shyba—

I remain out on the porch quite a while after Kiara had left. I keep replaying what she had said to me. When she looked at my eyes, there was not a shred of fear.

Ever since then, I cannot seem to quiet my mind. My heart was struck in a way I had never felt before. As I stare down at the empty cup in my hands I am interrupted by a gentle nudge. I glance over, seeing the cat looking up at me with big, curious eyes. I pet her, which she seems to enjoy. Then I glance back up to the sky, still awed by the vast number of stars. 

Soon after, I make my way inside, putting the cup in the sink and heading upstairs. As I take the last step up, I hear a shuffling noise downstairs. Is the cat up on the counter again? Reba would be upset if she is.

But then my mind begins to race. What if it is an intruder? What if they found me? I cautiously make my way back downstairs, stepping lightly to avoid detection. There are still faint sounds coming from the kitchen, only one set of footsteps. I make it to the bottom and peek around the corner.

I see the back of a figure standing near the table whilst rummaging through something. Are they trying to steal something? I take out the pocketknife I had gotten earlier and unfold it.

The click of the knife unfolding alerts the intruder to my presence--before they can react, with a swift movement I pin them on the ground as they scream. I lock them in an armbar with the knife pressed up to their neck.

“Who are you?” I demand quietly. “What are you doing?” 

“Dude! It’s me, Nicky!” he shouts.

Kuso.

As I gather my thoughts, I hear a door quickly open and footsteps scrambling from behind. I pocket the knife before Reba comes around the corner, her eyes wide.

“What in the world? Shyba! Nicky!” she says, looking between the two of us.

I release him and stand to my feet. Then I notice the cup and chocolate mix on the table. Reba helps Nicky up and he rubs at his arm and neck, cringing at the pain. Reba then looks at the two of us again. I avoid her gaze. Surely, she is upset that I attacked someone she cares about. How could I be so stupid? I should have recognized it was Nicky.

“What happened?” she asks sternly but calmly.

Nicky remains silent, so I speak up first, averting my gaze. “I thought he was stealing.”

Her shoulders deflate and she turns to Nicky. “What are you doing here so late?”

“It’s just…” he starts, “I’ve been having nightmares again and I couldn’t sleep… I just wanted to get out of my apartment for a little bit. Then I ended up here, but I didn’t want to wake anyone. I-I’m sorry, Mama.” Only then do I notice the unmistakable look of torment in his gaze along with dark circles beneath his eyes.

She wraps him in a hug, stroking his head. “You know you can call me or Jeremiah anytime,” she tells him and smiles. “I know he’s still up playing video games.”

He lets out a stifled breath and looks toward me. “Sorry I scared you, Shyba. I didn’t mean to make a big deal,” he says.

Why does he apologize to me? “Ah… no, I…” I mutter, but I do not know what to say. He continues to rub at his arm. “Sorry for hurting you,” I tell him. That’s good enough, right?

He nods once before going upstairs with his mug of cocoa. Reba then looks at me for a second and I brace myself for her lecture. But she only lets out a sigh. “Thank you for trying to protect us, but please try to be more aware of the situation before you go jumping in next time. You’re going to end up hurting yourself or someone else,” she says before giving me a playful, crooked smile. “Now go to bed and get some rest.”

Even though everyone left, my muscles still cannot quite relax. I keep screwing things up and she still speaks to me so calmly, not even lifting a finger. Is it an American thing? What is with this family?

Jeremiah—

“Everything was so vivid. It even smelled the same,” Nicky mutters beneath the pile of blankets on my bed. “It was like I was reliving it all again. I thought I was getting better… but now…”

My mind is slightly occupied by the enemy troops shooting at my character from across the broken terrain, the sounds of pelting gunfire and sputtering helicopters filling the room. But I take a moment to reach over and pat the top of the lump, able to get my hands back on the controller in time to stab an oncoming assailant. 

“You’re not there anymore, bro. You’re here with us and you’re safe,” I mutter. “If you want you could always move back in.”

“Shyba took my old room,” I hear from the lump.

“We could put a bunk bed in here.”

“No, thanks. I had enough of your snoring from across the hall,” he grumbles.

I laugh. “Is it that bad?” He doesn’t say anything, so I nudge him. “Come on, get out from under there and blow some shit up. You’ll feel better.”

The blankets shift and his head pops out, blonde hair going every possible direction. He reaches for his glasses on the nightstand and puts them on. He sits up and I hand him the controller, grinning. 

As we start selecting characters, I notice him rub his shoulder. “Still hurt?”

“A little,” he mutters. “What do you think of him?”

“Hmm, well, he’s certainly… different. Why?”

“He...” his voice becomes a little quieter, “had a knife to my throat when he pinned me.”

My eyes widen, but I try not to overreact. I want Nicky to feel safe here. But I can’t hide my surprise.  “What?” Where did he get a knife?

“Mama didn’t see it. He moved too fast for her, but I could feel the blade on my neck. I thought he was gonna kill me,” he says, his voice wavering. “And there’s a rumor going around that he broke Ricky’s arm yesterday.”

My mind reels. I recall what Mama had told me about what happened to Kiara and Shyba yesterday. She never mentioned he had broken someone’s arm. Does she know?

“Are you sure that’s not just a rumor?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but Dustin’s gang sure looked to be in a pissy mood yesterday evening.”

I remain quiet for a moment, trying to take everything in. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s dangerous. I don’t trust him,” he says. “He claims he doesn’t remember how he got here, and we can see he’s violent. I don’t think he should stay here much longer. I’m worried about Kiara and the girls, you know?”

As I ponder, more questions keep piling up. Is this kid really dangerous? If so, how should I approach this? I would have to make him leave, but would he do so willingly? Then again, what if he really does need our help? Mama would never turn away someone in need, even if they were dangerous. But if that’s the case, can we even help him?