Sunlight crept through the gap in the living-room curtains. The song birds outside chirped, talking with each other. Electricity zinged under the drywall and the fridge in the kitchen’s squealing gears cried out into the otherwise quiet cabin. The scent of cigarette ash still lingered in the empty pop can on the side table. Angel tried to draw his attention away from the noise and center himself.

He could even hear Kismet’s gentle breath from where she sat cross-legged amongst the blankets on the sofa. Peeking an eye open, he saw her pouring over an open book in her lap. Finally, a sense of serenity had overcome her usually nervous features. He noticed how books seemed to settle her quick, ever searching eyes.

Angel tried to focus on his own breathing. Each push and pull timed along with deep inhales and exhales. Life-force energy ebbed and flowed around him in warm, pulsating waves.

Ever since he’d started learning with Kismet a week ago, he became more comfortable sitting with himself. At first he had fidgeted, letting his senses and his mind wander, but the repetition of coaxing his focus back over and over began to expand the moments of stillness between thoughts little by little. It was like stretching the morning after a fight. it hurt, but felt good and got easier every time.

The better he got at it, and the more comfortable he became, the greater his frustration bubbled under the surface.

Why can’t I be like this all the time? Why do I have to hide this part of myself when I finally feel so good?

Angel gave up. Sighing, he opened his eyes fully. The dim light of evening filtered through the picture window and reflected gold through the dense curls piled on Kismet’s head in a high pony-tail. Nyx’s hoodie draped over her slender frame in bunches and folds. The cuffs hanging over her hands were shredded and damp from chewing. He could only imagine how much Nyx must hate that.

“Can’t focus?” Kismet asked when she noticed him looking.

“I can,” he said. “You?”

“It’s hard to shut it out today,” she sighed. “Even with you here, it’s like a constant prickling on my skin. Like being touched all over.”

Angel grimaced, unable to imagine how he would feel if his ability to sense life-force was oppressive rather than euphoric. It was holding it back that was the painful part.

I wonder if it’s the same for her? Maybe if she’d stop trying to reign it in all the time, she’d feel better?

“Do you want some help?” he asked.

She dipped her head, fiddling with the loose thread on a blanket. “I can’t keep relying on you.”

“I don’t mind.”

Angel got up and sat next to her on the couch. He extended a hand. Slowly, she reached out and took it. Relief softened her features, almost dreamlike. She relaxed her shoulders with a soft exhale, gripping his hand tighter, easing into the feeling. It reminded him of the look some people got after taking a sedative.

The vicious swirling and rapid rush of Kismet’s energy pressed in on him. Gradually, the pulsing steadied. It still did not fully align with the deeper stream beneath, but the two no longer grated against each other so heavily. Angel had yet to find anyone with such a duality, and it intrigued him.

She took her hand away, but wouldn’t look at him. “I shouldn’t get too used to that.”

Angel flopped back, getting comfortable into the cushions. “So don’t. You could always try to get control of your powers so you can use them instead of shutting them out? You’re lucky, you don’t have to hide them when you’re here. Look at Daisy, she uses them all the time. When we were kids, she was the first one the triplets would run to when they hurt themselves.”

“I can’t.” Her cheeks turned bright red all the way to her ears.

“I’m not used to all this secrecy about it,” Angel grumbled. “I get it, shutting it out is important, but that's just one part of it. It's like how I can choose to filter some noises or see closer or further away. It's about control and choices, but to keep yourself from it entirely is like a sort of death I think."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Finally, I can touch this piece of myself I thought was missing all these years.

Kismet looked at him with those piercing eyes of hers. Every bit of her seemed so soft and fragile. All but her eyes. They were the truth of her.

“Sometimes killing off parts of ourselves is the only path to growth."

"Stifling your abilities isn't the same thing as pruning off a few bad branches. Don't you want to feel alive?"

"Not especially."

"Don't tell me you came all this way to be normal?" he asked.

"That's all I've ever wanted."

I wish she could see how wonderful her abilities are.

"What if we found a spot where you could tune out the emotions and relax a bit easier?" Angel asked.

He got up and stretched, still feeling the energy flowing under his skin. He could run a mile, fly for ages, fight forever.... Angel never wanted to be without this feeling again.

"Where are you thinking?" Kismet tossed the blanket aside and got up.

"The woods might be a good spot? It's far enough away from the village, but not so far we can't make it back in time for supper."

"Ok, I'll leave a note for Nyx so she won't get worried."

While Kismet went to the kitchen to write the note, Angel decided to wait outside. The early evening heat began to dissipate as the cool ocean breeze rolled in. He could smell the sweet nectar from the nearby clovers. Butterflies danced, flitting between blooming flowers.

When Kismet stepped outside, she hurried down the deck stairs to join him on the lawn.

"Ok, let's go," she said.

"Are you sure you don't wanna fly?" he teased.

"I'm good," she said and led the way down the sidewalk.

The wind whipped her curls loose from her pony-tail.

"Ugh, but walking is so slow," he complained, quickly catching up to her.

"That's fine. I like to walk. There's lots of time to think."

"Well, what are you thinking about?"

She fixed her eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them, nibbling the frayed ends of her hoodie sleeves.

"The council meeting," she said.

"Are you nervous?"

Surely, Watcher Liz will approve. Kismet's been working with her at the library all this time, there's no way she'll say no.

"Where will I go if the council says I have to leave?”

“We’ll put you in the attic or something. Or, if it turns out you like the woods after all, we can hide you out there.”

She glanced over her shoulder, but her eyes remained distant.

“I’m kidding, of course,” he said, hoping to coax a smile.

Still, she remained tense and turned away. Her shoulders slumped forward.

“I don’t want to go to the mainland again,” she said. “If there was a way to bottle your resistance, I’d take it in an instant.”

Angel frowned, unsure what to say. He hated to see her in such turmoil. No one on the island had ever expressed such a dissonance with their abilities before.

“If I can’t get control of my powers before they toss me out -”

“They won’t.” Angel caught her elbow and they stopped walking. “They don’t have a reason.”

Kismet dipped her head, staring a hole in the sidewalk. Mourning doves called in the silence between them.

“Even if they try, I won’t let them.”

“Please don’t do anything crazy on my account,” she said.

“I only do crazy things on my own account,” he assured her.

She looked up, catching his eyes. “Please don’t.”

“Fine.”

She started walking again, kicking at a pebble. Angel stuffed his hands in his pockets, whistling as they turned the corner, further from the village and residential zones. The walk was much longer than he’d anticipated. Flying to walking conversion always threw him off. They’d passed the last house about a mile ago. Nothing but tall grass pastures sprawled out on either side. The edge of the forest came into view beneath the hill.

After poking around in the underbrush, they found the overgrown trail. Angel led the way over some up turned roots, deeper into the trees. The trail was shallow. Branches dangled in the path, grabbing at their clothes as they moved.

Angel marveled at the intensity of life-force around him. The air had a sort of fuzz to it, like walking through static. It was electric.

Eventually the trees thinned and they stepped into the clearing. The setting sun filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting mottled shadows on the moss.

“This place is great,” said Kismet.

“It’s fantastic.” Angel laid down on the ground, letting the feeling of giddiness seep into him.

Kismet laid next to him. She looked straight up toward the sky. There was something behind her eyes he couldn’t name. Something that stung.