August had never thought of anywhere as "home".

There were theories why his kind never quite felt at home anywhere. One stated that it was a defense mechanism; if you never got attached anywhere, you'd never have trouble leaving it at a moment's notice. Another theory was that there was a hidden land where only those with abilities lived, and it was their true home.

He didn't buy into those theories. His personal theory was that he felt like he didn't belong anywhere, because he really didn't.

***

He only allowed himself to be a regular at the local coffee shop. He told himself it was so that he didn't seem suspicious, and not because he was lonely.

He liked to blend in. If he wasn't memorable, no one could pick him out easily. Too boring to be suspicious was a safety.

Everyday, he went to the little coffee shop with a book. He bought the same drink every time, and sometimes a pastry or a donut. He sat at the same corner table, with his back to the road so cars driving by couldn't see his face, but a window at his side that let him see everyone pulling into the parking lot.

He knew all the staff members, and they all knew him. It was comfortable, though. It was always a polite "Hey August, your usual?", and he'd smile and say yes, and toss a dollar in the tip jar when he took his drink.

He'd sit in the corner with his book, and occasionally people watch if his mind wandered too much to focus on the words. He liked to watch the two old men who collected dropped change outside the drive-thru window, and the short man who always wore a hoodie and read the newspaper in the opposite corner. He liked listening to the group of women who gathered at the table in front of his and talked about their homes and their kids and their latest exercising tricks.

But there was one customer he found he liked to watch the most.

When he first started coming in, August had never seen him before. He was young, maybe August's age. He first came in during a busy day, and told the two employees to take care of the packed drive-thru because he was in no hurry. When they finally got around to him, he smiled pleasantly, and tipped them $5 to cheer them up after the rush.

He'd sat at the table in front of August with a laptop and a notebook. He'd sat and worked for two hours before leaving. August hoped he had a good day.

But the next day, he came back. And the next. And the next.

Always with that laptop and notebook. August got curious, so he switched and sat at the table behind the man. It was rude to peek at someone's laptop screen, but he meant no harm. He was just curious if the man was a student.

It turned out the man was a writer.

August had watched him type away at a word document for three hours that day. He'd stop and tap on his notebook for a while at times, before diving back in, fingers dancing across the keyboard and words filling up the once blank screen.

August began to sit at the new table every day.

He couldn't see well enough to read the screen well, but he caught glimpses. It sounded like a fantasy book. He wondered what the man would do if he knew there was a powered being sitting behind him in the coffee shop each day.

After two weeks, August paid for the man's drink. He told the employees to just tell the man it was one of those pass-it on things to cheer up strangers. He tipped them $2 that day.

They told the man just that, and the man beamed, a brilliant smile, and handed them $5, saying to pay for whoever ordered next. He took his drink to his table, and got to work on his book.

August began to pay for his drink every few days. He always came in before the man, and he liked to see the man's big smile when he realized someone had done it for him again. August always kept his eyes on his book whenever the man came towards the tables on those days.

This went on for a while. They never spoke, but the man started smiling at August and nodding a greeting at him. August would nod back and then dart his gaze back to his book, hunkering down in his seat, heart beating a little harder.

After a month, there were days that August would show up to find the man already there. On those days, August found that his drink had been paid for.

It became a silent game between them. August would buy him a drink. He would buy August a drink. They tipped the employees generously so they'd keep playing along with them. They still didn't speak. August didn't even know his name.

August decided one day that he'd buy the man a drink the next day and ask him his name. August was usually shy, and he was afraid to break this little game between them. But he wanted to know, so he could see if the man had published any books already that August could read.

The world gave him a sign that this was a bad idea, and punished him for having it.

That day he made his decision, he left the coffee shop at his usual time, book held securely in one hand. He tossed it into his car and crossed the street, taking the short walk down to the nearby grocery store. He just needed some bread to have with his dinner that night.

He walked through the store to the bakery. A woman was there, feeling the loaves to find the softest. A toddler sat in the cart behind her, entertaining himself with a toy.

August moved as close as he could without brushing against the woman, and began to feel the bread himself. The woman looked triumphant as she lifted a loaf, but jumped at the cry behind them.

August turned and saw the toddler crying as he reached for his fallen toy. August lifted it off the ground.

"Oh- thank you!" the woman said, reaching her hand out to take it. "He's always dropping it. And he's so likely to put it in his mouth, it's best if he doesn't get that back now."

August tried to drop the toy into her hand, but she had been reaching, and their hands brushed. It was a light contact, barely even noticeable.

His body went rigid as it started.

I should get a cake for Ian's birthday party I can't believe he'll be three tomorrow maybe I should pick up the cupcakes too he likes the chocolate frosting I wonder if David remembered to clean the backyard for the party I hope Helena brings the girls Ian was so happy playing with Jasmine last time oh that little smile with the dimples and his laugh they were so cute they

August jerked his hand away. The woman frowned down at the toy.

She set it in her purse and dug around. The toddler was still crying. Ian. His name was Ian. He was turning three tomorrow.

"Oh, I forgot my shopping list," the woman said to Ian as she set her purse down and lifted him out of the cart to comfort him. "Dammit. I was supposed to buy something. What was I supposed to buy, buddy?"

The cake. The cupcakes. Ian likes chocolate frosting.

August left the store without the bread.

He walked back to his car and climbed into it. He gently shut the door. He put his face in his hands and cried silently.

She'd forget his cake. His cupcakes. She'd never again remember Ian's little smile with the dimples, or his laugh when he and Jasmine played together.

August had done it again. He was foolish. He should've worn his gloves.

He didn't mean to do it. He never meant to steal thoughts and memories. It just happened.

He'd heard of people who could control flames, who could stop waves from capsizing boats, who could heal with a touch of their fingers. And here sat August, who stole precious memories. Who stole the casual thoughts in your head.

No. It was better if he never knew that man's name.

If they knew each other's names, they'd become friends. And if they became friends, they'd talk more. The man might want to sit with him.

And at some point, August would accidentally make contact with him. He might steal the man's thoughts on his book. He could tear that man's hard work and dream away from him with the brush of a finger.

August wouldn't risk it.

It's why he stuck to books. They were people's thoughts, their memories, their dreams. They were what laid in someone's mind, willingly shared with an audience. August craved those things, but he had no desire to steal them.

He drove home and ate his dinner with no bread that night. As he laid in bed, he thought about Ian's little smile with the dimples. He hoped Ian had a nice birthday.

He hoped someone reminded Ian's mom to buy him the cake.

***

The man kept buying August drinks.

August felt guilty, so he kept buying the man drinks.

But instead of watching, he kept his head buried in his book. He shifted back to his original corner table where he couldn't see the man's screen.

It was better this way. Better to stay as anonymous as he could.

The man allowed him to have his privacy for another month. They bought each other drinks and didn't speak, just like always.

Then the man broke the rules of their quiet game.

"Hi."

August didn't want to look up when he heard the word. He knew the man's voice, because he heard him talking to the employees. But now, the man was standing in front of his table.

It was rude not to say anything, though. August felt ill. He didn't want this. They hadn't spoken in all this time. It had been a month since he last messed up and stole the thoughts from that woman. Too soon to risk it happening again.

"Hello," he said quietly. He didn't look up from his book.

The man had set his stuff at his usual table, which made August feel a little better, at least. "I figured it was about time I introduce myself. Seems a little silly to keep doing this without even saying hi to each other."

Maybe it was silly. But it was safe, too. August liked safe.

"Oh," he said, because he realized the man was waiting for an answer.

The man smiled, and it was wide and easy. He must smile a lot. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he had a dimple.

Ian had dimples. His mom didn't remember them in that moment when he played with Jasmine anymore. But August hoped she'd formed new memories of his little dimples. He wondered if she ever bought him that cake. He hoped so. He hoped she remembered to get cupcakes with chocolate frosting.

"My name is Nico," the man said, holding his hand out.

August pretended not to see it. "I'm August. Nice to meet you."

The man- Nico- didn't lose his smile as he lowered his hand. "It's nice to meet you, August. What are you reading?"

August held it up for Nico to see, hoping he went away. Nico had a very nice smile. August dropped his gaze.

"Oh, cool. I'm actually writing a book," Nico said. His smile disappeared as he gave a wistful sigh. "It's being stubborn. But it's getting there." The smile came back, dimple and all. "Having someone buy me caffeine definitely helps. I wanted to thank you for that. It always puts me in a good mood."

"I'm glad to hear it," August said. He looked pointedly back down at his book.

"Well, don't want to bother you," Nico said, but sounded no less cheerful. "Thanks again, August."

He retreated to his table. August didn't dare peek up from his book.

His heart thumped too loudly in his chest. He didn't talk to many people. He wasn't very good at it when he was trying. He was especially abysmal at it when he was trying to keep someone at arm's length.

Not for the first time, he hated the ability he'd been cursed with.

"Soul" was the general term for his kind of ability. He thought it was a bad name.

The existence of people like him was, generally, a well-kept secret. If his kind got too noticeable, they found themselves face to face with people trained to stop them, by whatever force necessary.

He jumped every time he saw a flash of red, so certain they'd finally come for him. He would deserve it.

If he was just normal, he could invite Nico to sit with him and tell him about the book. They could shake hands, and August wouldn't have to worry about stealing Nico's dream from him so carelessly.

August shut his book and left the coffee shop. He made himself move fast before he could stop and think.

He couldn't go back. It was too dangerous. It was best to let Nico forget about him. August could always find another coffee shop to hang out in.

Because he wanted. And wanting was dangerous.

He wanted to see that smile, to see Nico's eyes crinkle at the corners, that dimple. He wanted to ask Nico what his book was about, and listen to his passion as he talked about it. He wanted to sit at the same table as Nico and...and...

His smile was so nice. He really was a beautiful man.

August did not read romance novels. He didn't read found-family novels. He didn't read anything that made him desire what he couldn't have anymore than he already did.

He'd stolen so much from innocent people. Nico would not be another victim.

***

August tried to stay away from the coffee shop.

He went to another coffee shop, but they didn't know his order and he grew nervous as he gave it to them. They didn't smile and greet him. They gave him his drink and hurried away to do other things. He still tipped them $1.

Someone was sitting at the corner table by the window, so August picked a table against the wall. The coffee shop here was too quiet.

He went back for a few days. There were always different people. The employees didn't have nametags on.

He went to the store and bought his own coffee. He sat outside his little house with a book and coffee he'd made himself for a few days.

August grew lonely.

He gave up after two weeks of avoiding the coffee shop. When he finally went back, he pretended to miss his parking spot and looped around the drive-thru. He tossed a few coins to the ground for the old men who scavenged for them.

He went inside and blushed as the employee at the register lit up. He'd barely stepped through the door before she noticed him.

"Been a while!" she said. "Your usual?"

August nodded. He approached the counter as she got the drink ready. She handed it to him, and he tipped $5 into the jar. She didn't rush away from him; she smiled a genuine smile and told him to have a nice day and let her know if he wanted anything else.

Guilt hit him and he checked the time. He gave her money for Nico's drink before taking his usual corner table.

Sure enough, Nico came in a few minutes later. August blushed and ducked his head as Nico immediately looked to his table. He just caught the start of a smile before his gaze found his book.

Nico went up to the counter, and a minute later was setting his stuff at his usual table. August dreaded it but was unsurprised when the table shook a little as Nico sat on the opposite bench.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

August looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Well, you haven't been here for two weeks," Nico said, frowning. "I was worried you might be sick or something. Or that maybe I scared you off. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

August should tell him that he did make August uncomfortable. It would be a mean thing to say, and it would be the end of their conversation. Nico probably wouldn't try to talk to him again.

But that loneliness was gnawing at him. He didn't have to touch Nico; they'd keep it to short, friendly conversations at the coffee shop. August would wear his gloves, just to be safe. It would be fine. It had to be.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

"I was sick," he lied.

"Well, I hope you're okay," Nico said, and August hurt because he sounded like he actually meant it.

It was dangerous to want this. Dangerous to pursue it, even on a casual level.

August had lived an isolated life. Not because he wanted to, but because it was safer for everyone.

He was just so lonely. Didn't he at least deserve to try for something more? Just an innocent acquaintanceship at a coffee shop. Just a conversation to look forward to in the day, if he got nothing else the rest of his life.

"Thank you," he said at last. "How is your book?"

Nico drummed his fingers on the table lightly as he thought. "It's...well, I've got this scene I'm stuck on. You always have a book here. Maybe you could help me?"

"Oh, I...I doubt it," August said. But if he tried, maybe Nico would smile again. "I can try, at least."

"I appreciate it," he said, and sure enough, the smile was back. "So the main character, he's forming a friendship with this woman he's kidnapped for his organization. They want to use her powers, but he's starting to regret taking her captive, and wants to free her. I'm stuck on this scene where he starts to tell her about his old life. It seems, I don't know, too soon? I'm worried about my pacing. He's a very withdrawn character, and I don't want to info-dump on my readers, you know?" 

"Oh," August said. He had ideas, because some of the books he'd read dealt with similar characters. But he didn't want to sound pretentious.

"Hey, would you be willing to read it?" Nico asked suddenly. "Feel free to say no, by the way. I won't force my unedited mess of a draft on the unwilling." He followed that with a little laugh, completely at ease.

"Sure," August said, heart beating harder. He'd been so curious about Nico's book.

"I don't expect your help for free. I'll pay you in coffee and pastries," he said, but his smile had grown wide. "You'll really read it? It won't be a problem?"

"Not at all." August awkwardly nudged his book forward. "I like to read. And I'm a fast reader."

Mostly because he had little else to do. He worked from home, and he had no friends or family to dedicate time to. Books were precious in his life.

"What's your email? I'll add you to the document," he said, reaching past to the other table to grab a pen. August stared in dread, but Nico just rolled it to him and pushed a napkin forward. "Feel free to leave criticism. I can't get any better if you coddle me. Okay?"

"Okay." August wrote down his email, and wished he was better at conversation. For all the words he consumed, he seemed incapable of forming a sentence. He hoped he didn't bore Nico.

Nico took the napkin from him, beaming. August tried to copy the smile, and felt like a nightlight compared to the sun.

"I'll leave you alone now. I really appreciate this, August," Nico said sincerely.

August flustered a little. Nico remembered his name. He'd only introduced himself once, two weeks ago. But Nico remembered.

"It's...it's no problem," August said once he found his voice again. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can't wait to read it."

Nico looked so happy hearing that. Maybe speaking so little wasn't such a bad thing. Even just a few words could carry a lot of power in them.

Nico returned to his table to get to work. August kept stealing glances at him over his book.

His joy overwhelmed his anxiety.

***

He went home that night and read all of Nico's book. It was quite captivating, and August looked him up to see if he'd published anything. He was surprised to find that Nico hadn't.

The book focused on an abused, high-up worker for a large corporation who kidnapped a woman with superpowers. His guilt and humanity were starting to win out over his fear of punishment, and there was a slow, sincere friendship forming between him and the woman.

August thought it was beautiful. He wondered if everything from Nico was beautiful. His smile, his words, his eyes. Him.

When August had finished, he went through and read it again, slower this time. He left comments throughout the book. Some were his reactions to the well-done scenes. Some were minor edits or criticisms. He caught a few continuity errors and a few dropped plot points. He hoped Nico wasn't annoyed by all the comments.

Nico would come in and sit across from August every day, discussing the notes August had scattered throughout. August liked to bring up little details, because it lit Nico up in that way he'd come to quickly love.

August wasn't good with people. He simply didn't have enough practice. He was never very good at reading them, and his interactions with people were always stunted and awkward.

But Nico was patient. He didn't press August; he waited for August to collect his thoughts and find a way to translate them into words. He listened avidly, but never tried to push the conversation past August's comfort.

He also never tried to touch August.

As August read more and more of the book, he feared touching Nico even more. The book was beautiful, and he didn't want to ever take a word of it from Nico.

He curled up each night with his tablet and read through the new sections. Nico used phrases like "His voice was as soft as his confidence" and "Their trust was tenuous at best, but his effort fed her confidence in it's future". August highlighted those phrases. He wished his mind could produce something so simply breathtaking without stealing it from someone else.

August also found himself smiling when he'd get to the little bolded notes in the text. Things like "Her hand was out to him before she even thought to do it (August does this read okay or should I fix it)" or "He felt that warmth in his chest (AUGUST HELP I'VE USED THAT EXPRESSION TOO MUCH WHAT'S ANOTHER WAY TO WORD IT MY BRAIN IS MUSH)".

Sometimes Nico would be online when August made changes. He'd change "He felt that warmth in his chest" to "He didn't know kindness could hurt so much. He didn't know there could be good pain" and Nico would highlight and add things like "omg you absolute SAVIOR I'm buying you 17 coffees tomorrow ily". August would laugh and type back something like "You can thank me by writing more, Nico. I NEED to know if they get caught snooping or I'll die before you can buy me 17 coffees".

And August would walk into the coffee shop the next day and find that Nico was already there, and had paid for his drink and some lunch. Nico would be hard at work, but he'd take the time to smile at August. When he found a good place to break, Nico would come to chat for a bit. He stayed a little longer each time.

It became a routine. It became the best part of August's days.

***

August was aware he'd developed a crush, and he tried to squash it out.

It wasn't easy. Nico made him laugh with his notes, things like "August man I'm not even writing anymore I'm just sitting here screaming" and "I should be writing this fight scene but I'm thinking about how I talked to you for 20 minutes and not ONCE did you mention I had half a damn donut stuck between my teeth like u really did me dirty when I trusted you".

Nico made him smile for the little thoughtful things he began to do. He bought August gift cards for takeout, joking that August spent too much time reading for Nico to make himself dinner.

He sat with August and talked. Sometimes it was about the book, and sometimes it was about other things. August lived a very boring, solitary life. Nico wasn't much more exciting, but he was a grad student and he always had some funny story to share from his classes.

August learned a lot about Nico. He had moved to town for grad school, and worked as a caregiver to an elderly family friend. He lived with her and she paid him to care for her and do the tasks she couldn't. He also babysat and did lawncare work for extra money. He was the youngest of three, and his parents loved to travel, so he and his siblings had been all over the world. He told August all about Italy; it was his favorite place he'd traveled. He even spoke some Italian. He didn't have many friends here, just the ones from his classes. But he liked the quiet of the place.

August didn't have much to tell. He was an only child. His mom had died years ago, and he had little contact with his dad. He lived alone here, worked from home, and never established himself anywhere outside the coffee shop. He had taken online college classes. He kept to himself as much as possible, and he couldn't exactly talk about his ability.

But as always, Nico didn't push for details. He never asked August about himself, outside of things like "Do you play sports" or "What's your favorite flavor here", little things that didn't pry his past from him. August was grateful. It didn't make getting rid of the crush any easier.

It also didn't help the day Nico broke routine and asked, "Do you want to get dinner?"

He'd packed up his things for the day, having stayed later than usual. He stood over August's table now, being careful not to block August in.

"What?" August said, sure he must've misheard.

"Dinner," Nico repeated. "Or you could come over and we could order a pizza. I'm starving, and I know you didn't have lunch." He gave that easy smile of his. "You can say no, August. I just...wanted to ask you. In case you wanted to say yes."

August should say no. Saying no was the smart thing.

He opened his mouth, but the word wouldn't come out. Nico looked hopeful. He was trying to hide it, but August saw the anxious way he played with the strap of his computer bag.

"Sure," he said at last, and another part of Nico lit alive. August stared at him in wonder. His one, simple word had done that.

"Pizza or restaurant? My treat either way," Nico said, his voice just a little too high pitched. He cleared his throat as casually as he could.

"Restaurant," August said quickly. Pizza meant going to Nico's house, and that was far too dangerous. At a restaurant, they'd sit across from each other.

"Any place in particular?" Nico asked.

August opened his mouth to say no, but then reconsidered. He didn't have much of himself to give to Nico. Nico had opened up about his life, but August had little to tell of his own. He could at least give Nico his favorite restaurant.

"I like Vinny's Corner," I said.

"Italian," Nico said, looking satisfied. "I've been there once. Loved it. Let's get going. Separate cars, or you want me to drive?"

"Separate cars. I don't want to take up a parking spot if I'm not even here," August said, getting up.

They left the coffee shop and got in their cars. August was grateful to hold the steering wheel. It stopped his hands from shaking.

It was just a friendly invitation. Nico had been hopeful because August was quiet and introverted. He'd been expecting a no and August caught him off-guard with a yes, that was all. It wasn't anything more.

Because as much as he wanted something more, more would hurt. He couldn't have more. His powers weren't exactly something he could test. For all he knew, he could hug Nico for a beat too long and steal every memory the man had.

He tried not to think on it as he drove. He turned his music up too loud, but it didn't drown out his thoughts. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. It helped the slightest.

He parked and got out. Nico was already waiting at the door. He held it open for August, stepping well back so they wouldn't brush against each other. August wanted to thank him, but he didn't want to make himself seem any weirder

They waited in the little area beyond the door until a hostess sat them in the dining room. It was still early for dinner, so it was quiet. An older couple were on the other side of the little room.

They looked down at their menus. August rarely came to eat in the dining room, but he ordered take-out a fair amount. He occasionally gave a different name and always paid in cash. He didn't want to be a regular too many places. The coffee shop was enough.

"What are you getting?" Nico asked, breaking the silence between them.

"A calzone," August said, keeping his eyes on the menu.

"Oh, that sounds good. Maybe I'll do that too," Nico said.

The silence came again. August wished he knew how to break it. He didn't dare speak, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Hey, August, what's your favorite book?" Nico asked.

That had August looking up in surprise. "Oh, um. I'm not sure. I read a lot."

"Anything you reread a lot?" he asked, looking genuinely interested.

August felt flustered. He wasn't used to people caring about what books he reread.

"I...I like Frankenstein?" It sounded so boring, so cliche.

But he found himself rereading it, though he tended to stop before the ending. A monster, struggling for a purpose, for acceptance, for love. Doomed to isolation because of the way he was made. Isolation driving him to despaired anger.

August understood. He knew what it was like to live in fear because of what you couldn't control. He knew what it was like to long to do good, to be good, only for your own abilities to shock you in their violence.

August was a monster by nature, but unlike the Creature, he had no maker to blame. He simply was.

The waitress thankfully came at that moment to take their orders. She left to fetch them drinks, and August hoped Nico didn't ask him why he reread that book so much. He should've lied and said something else.

The waitress returned and set their drinks down. Realizing she'd left their menus on the table, she hurried to grab them.

Her elbow knocked into August's drink. He hastily reached out on sheer reaction at the same time she did.

His hand caught her fingers as they both got a grip on the glass before it could tip.

Not again not again I spilled that drink earlier oh good we caught it okay that one wanted extra cheese with his calzone and I've still got to clean table 6 that's the table Ellie had her dinner at after the concert last month it was the last time she saw dad before he died and they played that clapping game no stop don't forget the extra cheese you need a good tip to save up for the family trip to Disney to cheer Ellie up she misses dad so much so do I oh god oh god why did

August yanked his hand away so hard he nearly knocked the drink over. The waitress caught it, and she was frowning down at it.

"I'm...sorry," she said to Nico. "Did you...?"

"He had extra cheese on his," August said quietly. He put his hands in his lap, to keep them away and to hide their tremble.

"Oh!" She tucked the menus under her arms. "I'll put that order in right away. Extra cheese, extra cheese, got it."

She took off. August stared very hard at his straw on the table so he didn't have to look at Nico.

"Are you okay?"

Nico's voice was gentle. It hurt.

"I'm fine," August managed. "What's your favorite book?"

When he stole a glance, Nico didn't look like he believed August. But he didn't push the issue.

He went on about his favorite book. It was something August had never heard of, so he had Nico write down the title and author, and tell him about it without spoiling it.

Their food came, and August was grateful for an excuse to stop talking. He'd been trying to ask questions about the book and stay interested, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd just stolen from the waitress.

Her last memory of her daughter with her father. They were playing the clapping game at table 6. August looked at the table and could picture them sitting there, the little girl with pigtails showing her frail but smiling grandfather how to clap to the beat she set.

He stole that from her.

He finished half his meal before putting his hands back in his lap.

When the waitress came back, he let Nico handle the bill. Nico left a generous tip, but August waited until he wasn't looking before setting $20 beneath what Nico had left.

They left the restaurant, going out into the warm evening. Nico stopped at his car and August saw his hesitation.

"August," he said at last. "Do you- I live nearby. I know you probably want to get home. But just have a drink with me outside? I want to pitch an idea to you."

Outside was okay. And as shaken as August was, he didn't want to go back and sit alone with his thoughts all night.

"Okay," he said with a small nod. Nico looked relieved.

He followed Nico's car to a nearby house. He worried briefly that the lady Nico looked after would want to meet him, but Nico led him around to the back of the house and disappeared inside to fetch them drinks.

He came back out and sat beside August, leaving a decent gap between them. He set August's drink down on the arm of the chair and didn't try to hand it to him.

August sipped his drink, looking around the clean yard. The sun was starting to set, and it glimmered through the trees at the edge of the yard. It was a pretty night out. He hoped the $20 helped towards the Disney trip.

"August," Nico said at last. "I love stories. You know that; I never shut up about them."

"I like it," August said, and ducked his head as he blushed. "I mean...I like them too."

Nico smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "The lady I live with- her name is Nancy, I don't know if you remember- she told me stories. She said when she was younger, there was a girl in her neighborhood. They were friends, and they liked to swim in the creek together. She said one day, a cat fell in the creek. They were trying to swim to it, but they weren't very fast. She said the girl flung out a hand, and the creek, well, threw the cat right out."

August went rigid. He flicked his gaze around, expecting a flash of red.

"The girl's family moved not long after. Some other kids had seen what happened and they said she had superpowers," Nico said. He was staring at the trees. "Nancy said she also dated a man when she was younger. She said even on the hottest days, there always seemed to be a breeze around him. The trees wouldn't rustle nearby, but it'd be there whenever she said it was too hot out." His voice went quiet. "Do you believe in magic, August?"

August felt ill.

Nico finally looked at him, and his expression dropped into concern. "August, it's okay," he said softly. "What happened in there?"

"Nothing." August's voice cracked. He never had to worry about being caught by the people he stole from- he could just steal their memories of what he'd done. But this...No, he had to steal Nico's memory of that moment, he had to. If word got out, if anyone knew...

There were forces out there to keep people like him in line. He couldn't risk Nico speaking a word.

But what if he stole too much?

August thought fast. He didn't have many possessions here. He worked from home; he could up and leave right now if he wanted.

"August." Nico was watching him with sad eyes. "Please don't go. I won't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you. I didn't mean to frighten you. We can stop talking about it. I'll never bring it up again; I promise."

"I need to leave," August said, standing up so fast the chair rocked and his unfinished drink fell to the ground.

"I wish you wouldn't," Nico said, but dropped his head and made no moves to stop him. "I'm sorry. I should've minded my own business."

August stood, rooted to the spot. Nico wasn't threatening him. He wasn't rejecting him. He wasn't horrified or disgusted or in disbelief that something like August could exist in this world.

Nico watched him for a moment. "I loved fantasy stories growing up. But as I got older, I read darker and darker stories. The people with powers were the ones who didn't have it easy. My mom used to tell me that there was magic in the world. She always looked sad when she said it."

"It's not..." August struggled, his voice strained and his eyes burning with tears. He blinked rapidly.

"It's touch, isn't it? Whatever it is, it happens when you touch someone," Nico said. His tone wasn't demanding or pushy; it was tentative. If August shut this down right now, Nico wouldn't argue. "You wear gloves even when it's hot."

And he didn't have them on today. Of course he didn't; he'd grown complacent when Nico didn't try to touch him. Foolish.

"I stole them from her." He shouldn't. But it poured out of him, a secret so carefully kept all these years. It was heavy, his shoulders tired with the effort of bearing it. "Her thoughts, her memories. It's...why she couldn't remember your order. She was thinking about it. I stole it. She has a daughter named Ellie. Ellie and the waitress's dad sat at table 6 and played a clapping game. She'll never remember it again."

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, breathing harshly. Maybe this was for the best. Nico would tell Nancy, and Nancy would probably know there were those who policed themselves amongst people like August.

August didn't know what they'd do to him. They'd show up, red bands identifying themselves. They'd take him away and lock him up, or kill him, or recruit him. He didn't know. He hoped it didn't hurt. If they locked him up, he hoped they'd at least give him a copy of Nico's book when it was published. That's all he'd ever ask for.

A hand landed on his shoulder, gentle. He jerked away on instinct, though he could do nothing if it wasn't skin against skin.

"Don't," he said hoarsely.

Nico held his hands up to show August he wouldn't. "Is it only your hands?"

"No." August swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid of the guy who sits next to me in my Tuesday class and he has six toes. Some people are just different," he said. He took a step back to leave space between them, and slowly lowered his hands, pressing his palms to his thighs to set August at ease. "If I go get you another drink, will you still be here when I get back?"

"I don't know." He couldn't bring himself to lie.

Nico nodded slowly, and his eyes swept down August. "Okay. I'll go get it."

He went inside. August looked to the gate that would lead out to his car. Nico didn't know where he lived. He could drive away, move to a new town.

But it would be so hard. He'd let himself get attached.

To the coffee shop. To Nico. Somewhere down the line, the word "home" grew a meaning to him.

He sat back down and waited.

Nico came out a minute later and his shoulders slumped in relief. He set the drink down on the arm of the chair and took his seat, turning it so he was facing August.

"Can I pitch that idea to you?" he asked.

August felt dizzy, and pressed a hand to his forehead. Nico frowned, but didn't reach out to touch him again.

"Yes," August whispered, closing his eyes.

"I had an idea for a new book. Tell me if it's too cliche, okay? So there's this college student trying to write a book. He's in a new city, barely knows a soul. He finds this little coffee shop. The regular in the corner starts to buy him drinks in secret."

August pulled his knees up to his chest and put his forehead against them.

"They start a game of it. They never talk. Then the college student decides he wants to talk to this guy. And the guy's pretty cute."

August made a choked noise. It might've been a sob.

"The guy disappears for two weeks. The college student is pretty scared after that. Thinks he scared the guy off, and he doesn't know what to do. He goes back every day and waits for him to come back. The guy finally does. They strike up a friendship. This guy helps him with his books. And the student, he starts to look forward to the little comments every night. He falls asleep reading them. He has to reread them in the morning to make sure it wasn't all a dream. And there's this one scene he never forgets, where the guy says 'When your book is published', not 'if'. It means the world to him."

August wanted to beg him to stop, to go on, and his head hurt with the confusion of it all.

"The student, he finally works up the courage to ask the cute guy to dinner. And then he fucks it all up by being nosy. Any idea where it should go from there?"

He was letting August end the story here, or start a new chapter. For all the books August had read, he didn't know what should happen next.

Did he dare to dream for more? Did he dare risk it?

"You know," Nico said, and when August picked his head up, there was the curve of a smile on his face as he looked out at the trees. "I've rarely dated. Most guys don't want to date a guy who doesn't want sex."

August put a hand over his mouth and let the tears go down his cheeks silently.

"You said 'sure' to dinner, and I felt sick with relief and anxiety. I thought 'Will he reject me when he finds out', but then I messed up anyways," Nico said, looking back at August. He watched a tear roll down his cheek. He pulled his sleeve over his hand. "May I?"

August gave a tentative nod. When Nico brushed his tears away, it was with a gentleness August hadn't felt since he was a child.

"I'll give you all my thoughts," he said, letting his sleeve linger against August's cheek. "I'm a writer; I love to shove my thoughts in peoples' faces."

August finally looked at him. "How can you not be..." He struggled.

"Afraid? Disgusted?" He shook his head. "Mom said there are people in the world who can touch the soul, who can call on the wind, who can speak to the earth, who can flow with the water, who can bathe in flames. Everything seems possible when you hear her stories. I always...hoped, I think. I used to wish it was me. I'm sorry it was you."

He was the Creature, standing before the blind man. Accepted.

"August, can I give you something?" Nico said.

"What?" August whispered.

    Nico leaned over, slowly. August didn't pull away.

    Nico pressed a soft kiss to August's shoulder, against his shirt. He pulled his sleeve over his hand again and held it out to August loosely, ready to drop if August so much as looked at it wrong.

    "You can't leave," he said, his voice soft again. "Not until I publish my book. I need to give you the first copy. You still don't know if he ever finds out her name."

    "Tell me the title of the next chapter," August said, pulling his sleeve over his hand and pressing it to Nico's.

    Nico lit up brighter than the sun slipping between the trees. It bathed him, and his smile absorbed it all. August wondered if his joy was a magic all it's own.

    "I can't name this one alone," Nico said, curling his covered fingers around August's.

    "We'll think of something," August promised, and he was crying again. It was a good pain.

    They sat and watched the sun dip further below the trees. August's tears dried on his face, his hand trembling against Nico's. He didn't pull away.

    They sat like that long after the sun went down. August didn't know what came next, but he trusted Nico to make it good, and Nico trusted him to make it great.
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"Coauthored" written by SkeneKidz