“My heritage,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue, “is a curse. And I’d appreciate it if you’d all stop trying to make me ‘embrace’ it.”
“Nerion—”
“Are we done here?” I cut her off, reaching for my paintings. “I have another class to get to.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t call me on it. Instead, she nodded with a resigned sigh.
“Just think about what I said. Your work is technically brilliant, but it could be so much more if you allowed yourself to be vulnerable in it.”
I didn’t respond, just gathered my canvases and headed for the door. Vulnerability was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not when a single moment of genuine connection could lead to my own destruction.
Outside, the crisp autumn air helped clear my head. I made my way across campus, my paintings awkwardly balanced in my arms. Students milled about between classes, some practicing minor spells in the courtyard while others lounged on the grass enjoying the last warm days before winter set in.
I spotted Linden sitting under our usual oak tree, his fingers gently coaxing a withered flower back to life. He looked up as I approached, his smile fading when he saw my expression.
“That bad, huh?” he asked as I dropped my paintings unceremoniously onto the grass.
“Worse,” I groaned, collapsing next to him. “Professor Laurent practically outed me to the whole class. She called mea water elemental, but it wouldn’t take much more to figure out the truth.”
Linden winced. “Shit. What did you do?”
“What could I do? I deflected, Aurelia changed the subject, and then she cornered me afterward to talk about being ‘vulnerable’ in my art.” I made air quotes with my fingers, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Maybe she has a point,” Linden said gently. “Your paintings are amazing, but they do feel a bit... distant.”
I glared at him. “Et tu, Linden? I thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side,” he insisted, the flower in his hand blooming fully as his emotions intensified. “But as your friend, I also want to see you happy. And I can tell you’re not.”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
“No, you’re not. You sleep with half the campus but never let anyone get close. You paint these incredible storms but never show what you really feel about them. You’re just... existing, not living.”
I stared at him, momentarily speechless. Linden rarely pushed like this. He was usually content to let me be my prickly self without comment.
“What’s gotten into you today?” I finally asked. “What’s gotten into everyone? Is it just pick on Nerion day?”
He sighed, setting the flower aside. “I’m worried about you.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” I retorted. “I don’t need to be talked off a ledge that doesn’t exist. I’m fine.”
Linden ran his fingers through the grass, which seemed to lean toward his touch like puppies seeking affection. “Look, I get it. Your situation is complicated. But you’re isolating yourself more and more.”
I picked at a loose thread on my jeans, avoiding his gaze. “I hang out with you, don’t I?”
“Only because I wouldn’t take no for an answer freshman year,” he pointed out. “And even with me, there are walls. Big ones.”
The truth of his words stung more than I wanted to admit. Linden was probably the closest thing I had to a real friend, and even he only got the carefully curated version of me. The version that was sarcastic and aloof but ultimately harmless. Not the version that could enchant people with a single note or turn to seafoam if someone fell in love with me and then changed their mind.
“Walls keep me safe,” I finally said, my voice quieter now.
“Do they?” Linden asked. “Or do they just keep you lonely?”
“Linden… you know what will happen to me if I choose the wrong person.”
“But what if you choose the right one?” he offered. “Wouldn’t that be incredible?”
“Yeah,” I scoffed, flopping down on the grass and throwing my arm over my eyes. “Except fairy tales aren’t real and I’m not willing to gamble with my life for some…guy.”