Berries and Greed

When I opened the door, I saw no Greid, just an indistinct lump under a mound of blankets on the bed. Then a head of dark, glossy hair popped out before big yellow eyes blinked at me sleepily.

“Beryl, is that you?” he rasped. “I’m fading away.”

I burst out laughing as I made my way over to the bed. He was such a dork. “Shut up, I’m like, half an hour later than normal delivering your coffee.”

“I can’t hear you,” he said, shifting upright to lean back against the headboard as I settled cross-legged on the bed beside him. “The lack of caffeine is shutting off my senses one by one.”

I laughed again, but my insides pulsed with want at the sight of his bare chest. Was he completely naked under there? I forced the thoughts away and handed over his coffee. “I went shopping.”

“Oh yeah?” He popped the lid off and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip.

“Yeah, at the thrift store next to the Chinese place we’ve ordered from a few times?” I dragged the bag closer to me. “They have so much cool stuff in there.”

“Oh right, yeah. I know it. Haven’t been in there for a while.”

“I was thinking we could donate your Room of Shame stuff to it.” I shot a pointed glance at the pile of boxes tucked beside his closet door.

Greid coughed awkwardly. “So what did you get?”

Snorting, I reached into the bag. “Some new shirts. A handbag, seeing as I don’t have one. Well, it’s actually an old leather rucksack. Look.”

I pulled it out, admiring the cracked tan leather and thick brass buckles. Greid nodded, reaching out to take it. “Nice. Have you looked inside yet? Sometimes people leave cool stuff in bags when they donate them. You know, like old shopping lists or notes they forgot to take out.”

“No, not yet,” I said distractedly, rooting through the paper-wrapped items in the bag until I found the one I wanted. “I got you this.”

Greid went still, then dropped the bag and set down his cup on the nightstand before reaching out to take the heavy, wrapped object I held out. “You didn’t have to get me something.”

But he was already fumbling to unwrap it, grinning as he held up the fat double-wick candle, its wax a deep red in a dark brown glass container.

“I got the most interesting scent I could find,” I told him with a wry smile, which made him spin the candle to read its label.

“Deep secret rose and freshly dug earth,” he read out, then lifted it to his nose and sniffed. “Oh man, it smells so good.”

I flushed. “I don’t know what kind of deep secrets a rose could have.”

“It’s a type of rose. They smell really nice.” He gave me a shy smile. “Thanks, Beryl.”

“My pleasure. It was nice to be able to buy you something.” I leaned forward on my hands to give him a kiss, which went on for a lot longer than I’d been expecting when Greid threaded his fingers through my hair and kissed me back eagerly.

By the time I pulled away, I was a little dazed, but forced myself to say, “Which reminds me—now that it’s been over a month since I moved in, you should be able to go through your bills and see how much they’ve all gone up by. So I know how much to contribute.”

Greid froze, then groaned dramatically as he fell back against the headboard. “You’re going to make me do math?”

Laughing, I picked up one of my new shirts to inspect it. It had a vintage floral pattern—probably old-fashioned and ugly to a lot of people, but I loved how colourful it was.

“Yes,” I told Greid sternly. “But only when you have time. Did you do some more work on the headpiece last night?”

“Yeah, a little. Cleaned up a bit first and did some laundry. You left yours in the machine, by the way. I put it in the dryer for you.”

“Oh, shit. Thanks. Sorry, I forgot.”

“I’m used to it,” he teased, nudging me with his knee beneath the blankets.

I did

tend to forget when I’d started doing laundry. Greid was usually the one to remind me. And put my stuff in the dryer so it didn’t start smelling damp.

“What else did you get?” he asked, picking up his coffee and nodding at the bag.

Grinning, I eagerly pulled out the two delicate mushroom ornaments, wrapped in thin paper. “So I saw these with all the other demiurgus-made knickknacks and thought they were awesome.”

“Oh, cool,” Greid said as I unwrapped them both and set them on the bed between us. “Sporefruit sculptures. I think I have a couple somewhere.”

“Sporefruit?” I asked, watching as he picked one up to inspect it.

“I think it’s a rough translation of ‘mushroom’ in the original demiurgus language,” he said casually. “They’re cool. Super popular a few decades ago. My grandma had a whole shelf filled with them.”

I laughed. “I’m guessing not so popular anymore then?”

“Maybe not with younger demiurgus,” he said sheepishly. “But there are some rare ones that are collectable. People sell them online sometimes. Or you can find them in thrift stores if you’re lucky.”

I perked up. “Can we look online for more?”