Goro: A Glaring Contradiction

Despite everything, Goro still found an undeniable magic in the mood of Candlenight, because it seemed nothing could dislodge his earliest memories of being enchanted by all the lights. He didn't even know what they were for, and he didn't remember his mother explaining it to him, but he remembered saying, "Look at the lights, Mama! They're so pretty!" and her murmuring agreement and holding him close to warm him and kiss his hair.

When she was gone, his sole Candlenight tradition became waiting near garbage bins for the remnants of feasts, which were usually pretty decent. But he was aware that normal people, with families, had lots of other traditions: they gathered together in rooms decorated with greenery, and drank hot drinks, and exchanged presents and loving words. Goro peeked in windows sometimes, to watch. When he was very young he ached with envy, and when he was a bit older he seethed and proclaimed it all fucking stupid.

When Amari took him on as an apprentice, she gave him gifts every year; usually things that were aimed at making him a better cleric, like prayer books and anatomy guides and things. The kind of shit easily found in the library, as he kept reminding her, although he hung on to them anyway because they were inscribed with things like, *Goro, This has been my favorite book of meditations since I was your age. I hope you find some peace within its pages. Love, Amari*. Couldn't go sticking that on the library shelves; it'd just be embarrassing.

Every flat surface of the main sanctuary aside from the floor would be covered in candles, and Goro would stay up later than everyone, just walking in circles, taking in the glow.

He knew Candlenight at the castle would set him off. Dredge up something painful. He just fucking knew, and he made himself swear he wasn't going to yell at anyone. Well, he did yell at Roddy for the smiling charm, but that was a normal kind of yelling. He managed to hold in the other urges that arose, burning up from his gut like dragon's breath and stopping just short of his teeth.

They were being nice, he reminded himself. They got him gifts because they cared about him. (Maybe not Roddy, but damn, he got a kick out of that stupid defective crystal ball anyway. Fucking hilarious.) When they talked to each other and not to him, he told himself that was a normal fucking thing people did, spreading their attention around, and he didn't scream for everyone to stop ignoring him. He ignored the pressing urge to tell them all *hey, you know there's people who are outside tonight, cold and alone?* Since when did he care about that shit, anyway? Charity was Amari's gig, not his. But it was hard to shake off the feeling that it was him who was outside still, and he'd been invited in for a brief reprieve of belonging before he got shuttled out again.

'Course, he didn't belong, not quite. When he'd known something painful would arise that hadn't been the one he was expecting. There was Nixie, and Ripley, and Roddy, and Mishka, and Hansel, and Ombre, one big happy family sharing the castle, and Goro was the problem child who couldn't get along with everyone. They lounged by the fire or in the armchairs, ribbing each other and having a good time, while he edged along the walls trying to rein in his dark looks so he didn't ruin everyone's Candlenight. Larkin didn't want to be part of that family anyway, and Raef and Griffin had their own home to return to, and Gwydion had the excuse of being new and fuckin' weird, but Goro's only excuse was that he found it impossible to make nice.

And then there was Luci. She didn't quite belong, either, even though everyone liked her. (Roddy loved her—Roddy loved *everyone* except Goro, which normally Goro would deem fair except that Roddy also loved motherfucking *Jonn*.) At one point Luci disappeared, and Goro assumed she'd gone to bed, until she reappeared a short time later red-faced from the cold. That was concerning. He kept a closer eye on her after that, but tried not to be creepy about it. He wanted to go say something to her, something that would make her feel welcome and more at ease, but it was laughable, the thought of words like that coming out of him.

He couldn't stop glancing at Mishka and Roddy, at how easy they made it look, fitting in. The thing was, he knew it *wasn't* easy for either of them, or at least it hadn't been at first. But somehow they'd found a way.

Goro had sworn to himself he wouldn't yell, so he didn't; just kept swallowing down the urge.

Mishka spent most of the evening lounged in Hansel's lap, and Goro ground his teeth every time he looked, because the indecision was killing him; he couldn't decide if he wanted to be there *too* or *instead*. *Too* should not even have crossed his mind, and he told himself it was just because he knew Hansel would love it. Maybe even fuckin' Mishka would love it. He couldn't seem to stop reaching for Goro, even though every time, he had to snatch his hand back and suck on the finger he'd pricked. Bit nutty in the head, that one.

Goro missed him. He missed him a lot. Was pissed at himself for it, but there it was.

That little note Mishka had tucked inside the book he gave him, it was perplexing. (Fitting, as the book itself was perplexing.) *I feel like I'm hurting you.* Why? What the hell had given him that impression? Was it some kind of bizarre manipulation tactic?

Goro was recalculating his plan to stay away from Mishka, and it was watching Mishka's easy way with Ripley that did it. He was plainly attached to her. The two of them seemed like they were becoming partners in the same way Larkin and Goro were partners.

Ripley was fucking protective of Goro. So was Hansel. That made two people between him and Mishka—a buffer, of sorts—who would look out for him. Goro was afraid Mishka would hurt him, but surely Ripley and Hansel wouldn't just fucking stand back and let it happen, right? *Right?* Was Goro losing his fucking mind, or were they not the kind of people who would watch him bleeding out on the floor with a knife in his gut and say, *Well, you shouldn't have been playing with knives*?

Well, they… probably would say that, but they'd be helping him and shit, too.

Goro waited until it seemed everyone was well and truly focused on things that weren't him, and then then he slipped away to his room to write Mishka a reply.

It was a weird little note, with a glaring contradiction: *stay away from me,* but also *let's be friends.* Goro couldn't help it. It was how he felt. He knew he confused people, and Mishka in particular seemed to struggle with him. But that's how Goro was, and if Mishka didn't like it, he could just ignore him.

He had to know what to expect by now. He had to.