A Warning: This chapter contains depictions of abuse.

Ourias walked out of a small store with a fabric bag of groceries on one shoulder. He joined the crowd on the sidewalk, sticking close to the edges where he could. He dug into the pocket of his hoodie, putting a pair of earbuds in.

He smiled to himself as he continued. The street and sidewalks were well-kept. Shops had bright displays in the windows. The cars were back-to-back on the street, and two cyclists zipped past Ourias as he walked around the outdoor seating of a diner.

Ourias turned into an ally, grabbing a pipe for balance as he climbed up onto a closed dumpster and dropped over a rotting wooden fence. He landed on an empty street. The buildings all down the street were dilapidated and abandoned, with broken windows and boarding doorways.

As Ourias continued down the street, the sidewalks became cracked, with some patches so overgrown with weeds they were barely visible. He jogged across a brick road, pausing near a tree that had grown so large its branches stuck into the broken windows on the upper floors of the buildings nearby.

Ourias dug through his bag and pulled out a small bag of raw almonds. He pulled one of his earbuds out and stuck it in his pocket, all while biting the edge of the bag and tugging it open with his teeth.

He looked into the tree, smiling as a few various birds and two squirrels immediately seemed to appear on the nearby branches. Each of the birds had a little beaded band around one of their feet, and the squirrels both had collars. Ourias smiled. "Good morning."

He grabbed a little wooden dish from its resting place between a nestle of branches. He filled it with almonds. "I'll bring you all some blueberries from the garden next time I come by."

He put the bowl back in the branches before ducking under the rest of the tree. He barely got around the block before a tortoiseshell cat trotted up to him. She meowed and bumped up against his leg and darted between his legs. Ourias knelt down and fished through his bag again. He pulled out a can of tuna, pulling the lid off and setting it on the sidewalk.

Ourias pet the cat at she ate for a moment before he got up again and continued.

Slowly, strings of fairy lights appeared, hung between unlit lampposts and street signs so dirty and faded that they were illegible. Rather than weeds in the sidewalks, patches of the concrete had been broken and dragged away to make space for gardens of thriving herbs. The broken concrete was stacked together to make little cubbies where more animals slept or ate.

Groups of tents made of patchwork fabric were tucked away into alleys, with tarps stretching over them, secured through the broken, un-boarded windows of the upper floors and zip-tied to unused pipes and rusted fire escapes.

Outside one of the groups of tents was an elderly woman. She sat in the shade of the building with a plastic Easter basket on one side and a small towel in the other. The towel was covered in a pile of mint stems. She was taking them one at a time, plucking the leaves off and putting them in the bucket.

"Good morning, Heidi." Ourias spoke as he approached, and the woman looked up with foggy eyes.

She was quiet for a moment, squinting her eyes. "...Ourias?"

"Yeah." Ourias paused next to her. "How are you?"

"Same as always." Heidi waved her hand before continuing to pluck leaves. "You've been gone a while."

"...Yeah." Ourias looked away. "Life's been... busy."

Heidi scoffed. "Another boy?"

Ourias was quiet.

Heidi shook her head. "You'd better figure yourself out quick, dear. Otherwise, you'll turn out old and lonely like me."

Ourias shrugged as he continued walking. "Starting to think that's not such a bad thing."

Heidi laughed sharply as he turned around another corner.

And suddenly, the streets were alive again. The string lights were everywhere now, stretching in every direction. Painted paper lanterns hung from twine stretched across between alleyways. Food stalls and street stands were gathered around in clusters, fashioned from old crates and boxes with covers made of thin, intricate fabric that cast the ground in a multitude of colors.

Witches were everywhere, running the stands and shopping between them.

A young man sat on a stool atop an old rug, playing a dulcimer to a crowd of people sitting around him. A group of young witches gathered close together, counting the money each of them held. Two dogs chased each other between crowds of people.

"Ourias!" One of the vendors, a middle-aged woman selling wind-chimes, shouted when he passed. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Yeah," Ourias laughed. "I was on a trip; just got back!"

"Tell your mother I said hi! I plan to stop by for some of her herbal blends!"

"I'll let her know!" Ourias climbed the steps up to a small patio. Vines hung from the roof of the patio, and there was a large hole on one end. A few large boards had been nailed into the patio in front of the open doorway with a curtain draped over it.

Cans tied to the bottom of the curtain clattered together as he pulled it open partially.

Inside the decrepit home was cluttered with shelves full of crystals and knickknacks, and piles of old books. in the middle of the room was a low set, round table covered in papers. Each paper had crude charcoal scribbles.

Sitting at that table was Cielle, drawing on another piece of paper with so much fervor that it was a miracle she didn't tear it.

Ourias knocked on the doorway. "Cielle?"

The woman's head shot up, and she looked around with blank eyes. "Ourias?"

"Yeah. Are you busy? I can come back another time."

"No! You can stay. This isn't that important anyway." She shoved the sketches away. "I didn't know you had come back already." Cielle clambered to her feet, grabbing a cane off the floor.

"I only came back yesterday. I just got done getting groceries, but I wanted to stop by before heading home."He dug through his bag. "I got your favorite cookies, and I brought you a souvenir. I just gotta find it, so give me a second."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." Ourias pulled out a package of cookies and a spiny seashell. "I got them."

Cielle tucked her cane under her arm and held out her hands.

Ourias put them in her hands and she walked back to the table. She set the cookies down and felt the shell in her hands. "...Is this a shell?"

"...Yeah. If you put it to your ear you're supposed to hear the ocean?" Ourias followed her to the table, standing next to it.

"How does that even work?"

Ourias shrugged. "I don't really know."

Cielle put the shell to her ear. "I like the spines. What color is it?"

"It's kind of an off-white color, with brown flecks and stripes."

Cielle was quiet, squinting. She eventually pulled the shell from her ear. "That is...weird." She smiled, "Good weird. I like it." She held it out to Ourias. "Could you put this on the shelf above the window? There should be a spot between the glass bottles and the ocarina shaped like a frog."

"Yeah, sure." Ourias took the shell, walking over to the shelf. As he did, Cielle returned to the table.

"How was your trip?"

"As good as it could be, I guess." Ourias set the shell down with a sigh. "Darren keeps trying to call me."

Cielle crossed her arms. "You aren't thinking about calling him back, are you?"

"No way!" Ourias lifted his hands. "No." He laughed, "I've learned my lesson."

"Good." Cielle said "Do you have cold groceries?"

"Nah, I underestimated how many groceries I'd need and didn't bring a second bag."

"Good. Sit down. We haven't talked for ages." She pat the table next to the cookies, then grabbed the cookies. "And I got cookies."

Ourias laughed, walking over to sit next to her at the table. He set his bag down. He glanced down at some of the sketches on the table. "...Have you been drawing?"

"I've been trying to. It's a bit difficult, as I can't, y'know." Cielle waved her hand over her face. "But I'm trying my best."

Ourias leaned forward, turning one of the papers to face him. "Did something happen to spark an interest in art?"

Cielle sighed. "The spirits. There are more of them now. But these new ones are different somehow. They don't speak with words." She paused. "Not words I understand, anyway. But I can still vaguely understand what they're saying, if that makes any sense."

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"...Not really."

"Oh." Cielle opened the package of cookies. "Well..." She gestured vaguely with a cookie, "It's sort of like I can see what they're saying. Like, when they speak, I get these images in my mind?"

"Like visions?"

"Not really? I don't think so. I guess I've never had visions before, so I wouldn't know. But the images don't really make sense. It's all haphazard shapes and colors, and sometimes they look kind of like things I remember from when I could see. But other times, I can't even imagine what I might be looking at. I'm trying to draw those." Cielle waved her hands around the table. "But I can't see what I'm doing, and the spirits I can understand aren't very helpful."

Ourias frowned. "...Can I look at them?"

"Knock yourself out." Cielle bit the cookie in her hand. "Sorry I couldn't explain it better."

"No, you're good." Ourias sifted through the papers. "Do you think they're trying to tell you something? Like a premonition?"

"Yes, but no." Cielle tilted her head. "The spirits I can understand are also antsy. Something weird about the aether. They said the 'pillars' are weakening. But they aren't scared about something that's going to happen. They're afraid because something is already happening."

"Pillars?"

"I don't know either." Cielle shrugged. "The spirits who seem to understand can't convey what they need. The ones who can speak don't understand what's happening." Cielle ran a hand through her hair. "All I know is that whatever is happening, it scares them. And if it scares the dead? Well, it's probably dangerous."

"I'll bring it up with my mom. She might know what to do."

Cielle nodded, "I've been laying salt around the doors and windows at night, and I have sage that I've been burning every sunrise and sunset. I've convinced some of the other witches to burn sage around the market, too." She took another small bite of her cookie. "If I can catch Father Reimund during his next visit, I can ask him to bring me some rosaries and holy water. Just to be safe."

Ourias frowned. "Who is Father Reimund?"

"Oh!" Cielle perked up, clapping her hands. "I forgot you've been gone for a while. You know the church just outside of town? The one with the old graveyard and the nasty old pastor?"

"The one who always told people that witches were sent from the devil to destroy Christians?"

"Yes. But that Father died. A heart attack, I believe?" Cielle shrugged, "His soul faded rather quickly. But Father Reimund moved into the city to take over the church. He's been preaching about accepting witches, and he stops by the market regularly with food and clothes that his wife sews." Cielle smiled. "His wife, Sherry, is very kind. She comes every Sunday to walk me to the church and back."

Ourias was quiet for a moment. "That's... good."

"Oh, I was suspicious at first, too. But according to Sherry, they were never very anti-witch, and they began supporting witches after they found out their son was a witch." Cielle smiled slightly, "The spirits in the graveyard are happier, too. Less volatile."

"I trust you. If you say they're good people, they probably are." Ourias smiled. "I'm happy for you. For everybody."

Cielle smiled. "Thank you." She straightened. "But enough about me, how was your trip? Where did you go? You left so quickly."

"Yeah." Ourias rubbed the back of his neck. "I went to Greece to visit my grandparents." Ourias pulled his knee up to rest his head on. "I hadn't seen them since I was little, so it was nice being able to see them in person again. It was definitely a struggle at first, and I did learn that I am not nearly as fluent in Greek as I thought I was."

"Oh, god."

"Yeah." Ourias laughed quietly. "By the end of the trip, it was a lot easier, but neither of my grandparents speak English. My grandpa understand some English, but where my family lived there weren't many tourists so they didn't really have a reason to learn. Whenever we'd have video calls my mom and uncle would always translate what we didn't understand and I guess I relied on them more than I thought I did." Ourias sighed. "I kinda wished I tried to learn more when I was younger."

"You're still youngish. You can still learn. Besides, your aunt and uncle didn't speak English before moving to America, right?"

"Yeah..."

"I'd be willing to bet that your Greek-speaking skills improved while you were there, too. Being surrounded by a language helps a lot." Cielle paused. "Or so I've been told."

Ourias laughed. "Yeah, it does." He was quiet for a long moment. "I kinda feel shitty about the fact that it took me running from a crazy ex to actually fly there and visit them in person."

"Hey, that's not fair to you." Cielle pushed his arm. "Plane tickets are expensive. And you have actual legitimate reasons to avoid flying. How many people get vividly intrusive visions by just touching people? Airports and planes are crowded and they get hot. It'd be cruel to expect you to wear a hoodie or jacket for, what, ten hours?"

"...It was actually closer to fifteen."

"That is even worse." Cielle gestured, "But my point still stands. And I don't think they hold it against you, either. And I'm sure they were happy to see you."

Ourias nodded, "Yeah..." He glanced down at his phone when it went off and frowned. "I should head back home. I told my mom I'd help her bake some cakes for the cafe later today."

"Of course. Make sure to make it back safe, okay? And thank you for the gifts."

"I will." Ourias stood up and Cielle did as well.

She held out her arms. "Hug before you go?"

Ourias and Cielle hugged each other and when they stepped back, Cielle pat his arm. "One day you're gonna find a guy who treats you right. And when you do, you're gonna forget all about Darren and all the other dicks you've had to deal with."

"...I'd like to hope so."

"You will. Because you're a good person, even in spite of everything you've had to deal with. And while it might not be today, or even tomorrow, someday that'll pay off." Cielle smiled, "I know it."

"Thanks, Cielle." Ourias dropped his head.

"When you do meet that guy," Cielle said, "I expect you to bring him here so I can meet him."

Ourias nodded with a small smile as he picked up his bag. "I will."

"Good!" Cielle walked with Ourias as far as the doorway. "You should bring Skyler the next time you visit. She's always entertaining."

Ourias paused at the bottom step, looking back at her. "More entertaining than me?"

"Oh, definitely." Cielle grinned.

Ourias laughed as he walked away. "See you later, Cielle!"

Cielle waved from the doorway before disappearing inside again.

Ourias walked down the cracked sidewalk, as the street market started to thin out, Ourias pulled a pair of headphones out of his pocket. He stuck his earbuds in and as he started playing music, someone called his name from behind him.

"Ourias!"

He didn't hear them, continuing down the sidewalk.

"Ourias!"

The voice was closer now, and he moved to put his phone in his pocket.

"Ourias!"

Darren grabbed Ourias' wrist and turned him around. Ourias' phone cracked when it hit the sidewalk.

Ourias suddenly stood in the hallway of Darren's apartment. The lights were out, and the faint light of a lamppost filtered through the blinds in the window. Darren was outside the bathroom, banging on the door and shouting.

And then Ourias was inside the bathroom, where he watched himself push against the door to keep it closed as Darren screamed from the other side. [Past] Ourias' eyes were squeezed shut, and his lip bled down his chin and onto his shirt.

Ourias touched his own lip, and when he pulled it back it had blood on it.

Ourias yanked his wrist away, holding it against his chest. His eyes were wide as he took a step away from Darren. He looked down at his hand. There was no blood.

"Jesus, Ourias." Darren stepped closer to Ourias with a weak laugh. "I've been trying to talk to you for months. You won't answer your phone. Do you know how worried I was? I didn't know where you were."

Ourias moved backwards, away from Darren, and stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk. His voice cracked when he spoke. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Come on, don't be like that. Look," Darren reached out towards Ourias, "I'm not upset at you anymore. We can get through this, I know it."

"Get away from me." Ourias stepped over a steep drop in the sidewalk, and he fell backwards. He caught himself on one of his elbows, but his bag spilled all over the ground.

"Shit." Ourias pushed himself onto his knees, grabbing everything in reach and shoving it into his bag.

Darren knelt down in front of him, picking up an apple that had rolled into the grass. He chuckled, "God, you're so clumsy, you should really be more careful." He grabbed Ourias' hand and turned it over. The side of Ourias' hand was scraped and bleeding. "You even hurt yourself."

Another image. Ourias is running down the street, holding his broken arm and squinting through the blood running into his eyes.

Ourias yanked his hand back. "Don't touch me."

Darren met Ourias' gaze with a scowl. Ourias shifted back and swallowed, but he didn't look away.

Darren hissed through his teeth. "I've been more than patient with you, Ourias. All I'm asking is that you talk to me. You're just making this harder on yourself."

"I don't want to talk to you." Ourias stood up.

Darren dropped the apple and straightened. "You're such a bitch sometimes, Ourias. I've been nothing but good to you, and this is what I get for it?"

"We broke up months ago. Just, please, leave me alone." Ourias voice was steadier, and he started walking down the sidewalk again, faster now.

Darren followed Ourias, jogging to catch up. "We didn't break up. You just starting fucking ignoring me without saying anything."

"I was pretty clear in my text." Ourias put his headphones away as he walked.

"I had to learn from our friends that you left the goddamn country without telling me."

"Not that it matters, but I don't need your permission to go somewhere."

"What if something happened to you? You scared me, Ourias. How am I supposed to know you didn't get kidnapped or murdered when you don't tell me where you are?"

"It's none of your business where I choose to spend my time."

"It is my business when you're my boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend. I told you we're done. I don't want anything to do with you."

"And what about me?" Darren stopped in front of Ourias, "Don't I get a say? Didn't you say a relationship is supposed to work both ways? That we should both get a say? I don't remember you asking me about whether or not I wanted us to break up."

"I also told you that partners are supposed to respect each other's boundaries. I'm telling you to leave me alone. That is a boundary." Ourias walked around Darren.

"Ourias!" Darren turned around and kept following him. "I'm not giving up! Not until you start listening to me! You can't just ignore me!"

Ourias didn't speak, holding his bag with clenched fists. He looked pointedly forward.

"I'm not asking for much, Ourias! I'm willing to forgive you for everything, I just need you to talk to me."

Ourias turned the corner and immediately began sprinting towards the crowded street at the end of the block, holding his bag against his chest.

"Ourias, don't you fucking dare!"

Darren chased Ourias halfway down the block before slowing to a stop. Ourias only stopped once he reached the crowds, weaving between people with short apologies. He glanced back once to see Darren standing just outside the crowd, glaring at him with his arms crossed.