Abracadabra pspsps

      If someone had told Jean half a year ago that he would take up gardening one day, he would have deemed them crazy.       Funny how the Fates work.       Jean follows Renee, tugging at the hem of his brown T-shirt. For some reason, the witch’s presence makes him nervous, especially when she turns her gaze towards him, her eyes always full of joviality, banishing the darkness that creeps in his peripheral.       As Renee walks out through the back door, the whole garden welcomes her enthusiastically, the various plants Jean still has a hard time to name leaning towards her in greeting and the gentle breeze ruffling her hair. Jean observes as she brushes a few stray strands away from her eyes, a small smile dancing on her lips. His heart flutters at the sight. The magic here is so vibrant, its colors blooming like flowers, and Renee stands at the center of it like a beacon, connected to even the tiniest seed in the ground.       Renee touches one of the roses gently, murmuring questions like 'Do you have enough water?' or 'Is something bothering you? ', and the flower sways slowly in her hands, Renee’s magic cradling it tenderly.       Is it stupid to envy a flower?       The morning dew still clings to the grass as Jean steps towards Renee, the sunshine lighting up her rainbow hair in a beautiful way. Her magic, pistachio-colored, twirls around her leisurely, as if inviting the world to a dance, and if Jean was more courageous, he would do just that.       The scene before him feels so fragile like he could ruin it just by breathing the wrong way.       As Jean steps closer to Renee, the garden seems to greet him, the multiple flowers and herbs turning slightly towards him. He can’t understand them as well as Renee does if he isn’t channeling her magic, but the message here is quite simple — they’re greeting him like a friend, and he doesn’t know why they think he deserves it.       Renee turns her head and graces Jean with a warm smile that makes her eyes crinkle. He swallows and forces down his urge to do something stupid like tucking a strand of the rainbow hair behind her ear. “Do you want to help?” Renee asks. At Jean’s nod, she says, her hand pointing around, “Could you water them?       He nods again and dips a water can in the barrel that collects rainwater. A memory of his first days with Renee surfaces, a time when he thought the help she needed was of magical nature. Imagine his surprise when she told him, with joy on her face, to rake the leaves that had fallen down during the night. To say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement. He was so used to his magical abilities being his only value that he didn’t know what to do with himself in other scenario.       While Jean is watering a basil and a herb he doesn’t know the name of yet, his mind drifts to Renee, as it has been doing recently. The herbalist remains a mystery to him because how can she be so… calm all the time? From the start, she hasn’t yelled at him or disciplined him in any way, even when he knocked over one of the jars at the shop. While he was internally panicking, she just handed him a broom and reassured him that everything was alright.       And this isn’t the only thing she has done for him — Renee has a habit of doing a lot for him, for example giving him the only key to his room or buying him a stress ball when she noticed his habit of scratching himself when in distress. The unconditional kindness twists a knot in Jean’s stomach. He is waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far, nothing has happened.       When they are both done with their task, they sit down on the couch — a well-loved thing brought from garage sale, as he heard — and relax while drinking tea. Jean has gained a particular liking to the ones with mint which didn’t fail to make Renee chuckle when she first learned about it. 'Of course' was her only comment and Jean didn’t know about cats enough to understand the joke.       Renee’s linden tea smells like apples and cinnamon that makes Jean’s nose itch. The silence is a comfortable one, familiar at this point as it has become a part of their daily routine. It boggles Jean how much his life has changed in the span of a few months. Earlier, sitting with a witch in silence would suffocate him, his nerves eating him alive from fear.       He feels weary after spending some time in the garden, the fresh air and warm sunlight always making him drowsy after. It is harder to keep the glamour while he fends off sleep, but not impossible — he has been trained well to manage it, even when he is at the brink of complete exhaustion. Sitting here with Renee, he is still far from that state.       As if reading his thoughts, Renee speaks up.       “You know,” she starts, “there’s no one watching.” She looks pointedly at his head where Jean’s cat ears would be if he didn’t purposely hide them.       “I know,” he says, tense.       Seeing his distress, Renee lets the topic drop, but she is still holding Jean’s hand, for which he is grateful. A small part of him hates it, but Jean swallows his pride and takes the offered support. He has been here for a few months and nobody here hasn’t given him any trouble, even that prickly dream walker living by the end of the street. Everyone has been great so far, he has to admit, and especially Renee who does so much for him, and he doesn’t know how to pay back. Really, there is no reason for him to feel threatened here, with such a supportive community.       But he can’t just erase all of the teachings that he should hide his true nature because there are people who will hunt him down for the power, that “mixed” species don’t belong among humans so they shouldn’t be treated as one. His cat features has become a point of shame for him, and this is something he can’t seem to unlearn. Since coming to Foxhole, he has been either in his cat form or the human one, and it has been taking its toll on his energy. Logically, he should have just drop the glamour for a while, to give his magic a rest. At the same time though, something is stopping him, whispering that humans are dangerous, their greed for power unstoppable.       But for Renee, Jean is ready to try.       A deep breath, a squeeze to Renee’s hand, and there — his glamour drops, his cat ears fluttering in the newfound freedom. Jean sighs, pleased to have a weight dropped from his back. He flicks his tail in contentment, but then he tenses, suddenly remembering that he isn’t alone.       He is prepared to see disgust or maliciousness, like always, but Renee’s face displays nothing like it; instead, her eyes sparkle, her mouth forming a small 'o' — a picture of childlike wonder. Jean blushes at the attention. Nobody has ever looked at him like this.       The silence is broken by Renee first. “Can I touch them?” She points at his cat ears.       The question surprises Jean because there is nothing special about them. But come to think of it, as much as Renee has seen him in his cat form, she has never touched him, didn’t even ask up until now.       Jean nods and observes as Renee’s hand goes towards his ears slowly while he is holding his breath in anticipation. The ear flutters as Renee touches it, and she waits for his permission to continue; something squeezes in Jean’s chest at the simple gesture.       After a nod from Jean, Renee slides her finger up and down the ear, petting the black fur. She then scratches him at the base of it, which feels quite nice, Jean has to admit.       To his mortification, something rumbles deep in his chest, and he is ready for the ground to swallow him whole. He stops himself from making the sound, but it takes up a lot of his concentration.       Renee chuckles, the sound mesmerizing like little bells tingling, caressed by gentle wind. “It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to hide your reactions. Purring is natural.”       Purring, huh? He has never done that before, and nobody has told him that he can — another feature to his collection of things he should be wary of while in glamour.       Jean’s tail swishes anxiously behind him, and he doesn’t even notice it, too occupied by his thoughts, until Renee squeezes his hand.       “Hey,” she says, and Jean squeezes her hand back. “You’re being so brave today.”       I am definitely not, he thinks, but doesn’t voice his opinion. Renee has been so patient with him, and he is afraid to ruin it.       “Maybe some more tea? Then we can finish organizing the shop’s inventory,” she says. At Jean’s nod she squeezes his hand one last time before going to the kitchen. Jean is already missing her touch.       Stupid, he immediately berates himself for wanting such a trivial thing. Once, he got tangled with a green-eyed boy who wanted to learn Jean’s language, and it only led to a heartbreak. It is better to spare himself the unnecessary tears.       But his heart doesn’t listen, beating like crazy as he lets himself sneak a few glances at Renee’s radiant form while she busies herself in the kitchen. Her blue dress sways with her movements, her amulets clinking softly against each other as if adding a rhythm to a dance only       Renee knows the steps to.       With a sinking feeling, he realizes one dreadful thing: I love her.       Maybe one day Jean will have the courage to say it out loud.