between the shadow and the soul

Sabriel got out of the car and lead the way up the few front steps of the building. Once inside, he lead Professor Faye down a long hallway to the elevator. Sabriel’s apartment was only a single flight of stairs, but he didn’t want to risk falling over, especially not with how weak his knees felt and how his insides were quivering.

His apartment was just a few doors down from the elevator. He fished around for his keys, then opened the door, and lead Professor Faye inside. He switched on the light to reveal an apartment sparsely furnished and scarcely decorated. There were some photos taped to the walls, but none of the were artistic. They were family photographs from over the years; some of them had been oddly cut, clearly removing someone who had once been in the photos. Most of them showed Sabriel growing up with a woman who didn’t look very much like him, but bore enough of a resemblance to be family. She was the only consistent figure in the photos—the male adult figure and the boy who looked like he could have been Sabriel’s brother were only present in the photos where Sabriel was at his youngest.

The kitchen and eating space were on in the same. There was a couch and a television, and a small, lonely bookshelf. It wasn’t a terrible apartment—Sabriel was, after all, a student, and living by himself.

“Sorry, I know it’s kind of bland in here,” he said. “I just moved in.” He opened the refrigerator door, and removed a bottle of water. An equal exchange. He also pulled out a plate of Christmas cookies, which he kept in the refrigerator because he preferred the icing hard.

“Have as many as you want,” he said. “Um—can I get you milk, or something?” Sabriel shrugged off his coat and rested it over the back of a chair, then pulled his camera strap up and over his head to set the camera down on a nearby table.

After shrugging off his jacket, Sabriel toed off his shoes and tugged off his gloves. He was left a little more uncovered, and a fraction smaller—the shoes added an extra bit of height by mere virtue of having soles, and without that, he was his natural size.

“I did,” he said. “Um, you know, like—from a store-bought mix. If that counts.”

He thought it did. After all, he’d cracked the eggs, and added the oil, and blended the batter himself. And when they came out of the oven, he’d iced them.

“I hope they’re okay,” he added. He suddenly realized he cared very deeply about Professor Faye’s judgment—what Professor Faye thought, especially of him and by extension the things he made, mattered a great deal. The significance of his approval seemed to come from no where, a flower that seeded and bloomed in the span of a single night.

In an effort not to seem expectant, Sabriel turned his head away and busied himself with straightening a few items on the counter.

“You can take some with you, if you want?”

Sabriel’s face fell, and as he felt the corners of his mouth turn downward and felt the little spark of curiosity vanish from his eyes, he tried to conceal it. He thought Professor Faye might stay a little while longer, though he realized the teacher had no reason to—bringing Sabriel back home had been nothing but a courtesy, and it was probably something he did merely out of some sense of obligation rather than any kind of requited interest.

“Of course, of course,” he said. He forced his voice to be light and carefree, forced the grin onto his face and the single nod of understanding. “Take as many as you like, please, you were so—so unbelievably kind to me tonight.”

He wondered, briefly, what he had done wrong. His eyes wandered to the photographs taped to the walls. Did the cut-out ones provide some warning signal of danger? Was the apartment too sparse—was he too obviously a student? Did Professor Faye prefer lavish furniture and decadent decor?

In the blink of an eye, Sabriel found himself wanting to be whatever Professor Faye would want him to be. He’d be malleable, like clay; he could be shaped into a person worth keeping around.

“Thank you again,” he said, “for everything.”

He didn’t want Professor Faye to go, and it was mostly for selfish reasons. Sabriel was certain he wouldn’t find out what those words meant unless he kept his teacher around.

“Get home safe, all right? Be careful.” He looked up at Professor Faye and smiled. His words were so sincere they ached.