Berries and Greed

Greid was just coming down from his workshop, and there were several parcels neatly packaged in brown paper and tied with black string cradled in his arms. But what caught my attention was the sharp three-piece suit he was wearing, just like the first day he’d appeared at the compound. My pulse fluttered.

“You look nice.” Nodding at the packages, I asked, “What’re those?”

“Some orders that need shipping. I normally get a courier to come here and collect them, but seeing as we’re going out anyway…”

I nodded. Then, against my will, my eyes drifted over to the closed door beside him. The mysterious closet door.

Greid followed my gaze and coughed awkwardly, then strode for the stairs. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” What was in that fucking closet? Was it weird? Embarrassing? Serial killer-adjacent?

Greid set down the parcels by the front door to pull on his boots while I slipped into my sandals. As he grabbed his keys and unlocked the door, I asked, “Do you always dress so nicely when you go out?”

He glanced down at his suit as he held the door open for me. “Um, yeah. I guess… it’s kind of like armour. So no one knows what a total mess I am.”

I frowned as I stepped outside into crisp autumn air and bright sunlight. “You’re not a mess at all. You have a beautiful house and a really good job. And great taste in TV,” I added with a grin, nudging his arm.

He glanced down at me as he locked the door, eyes flaring with excitement. “Yeah? You liked it?”

“I did. Last night was really fun. Can we watch it again tonight?” I asked, because I knew he’d want to but would probably be too shy to ask. Besides, I wanted to do it all again too.

“Yeah, of course,” he rushed out as we made our way down the stoop and onto the street. “Do you know what you want for dinner tonight?”

I burst out laughing, drawing the gaze of a chic demiurgus in a fancy suit striding down the other side of the street. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet and you’re already thinking about dinner.”

“Shit.” Greid stopped dead. “I should’ve offered you breakfast before we left.”

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry. Still full from dinner.”

“How can you still be full from dinner?” he asked incredulously as we started walking again. “It was hours ago.”

Chuckling, I side-eyed him. “Are demiurgus stomachs in your legs? Is that why you’re so tall, so you can fit all the food in there?”

He shot me a dry look. “That was terrible.”

Laughing, I gave his arm a weak shove and saw the frondy tips of his ears flutter against his hair, which was pulled back into a knot.

“I’ll ignore that sass this time,” I told him with mock sternness. His ears twitched again.

“So, um…” He sounded a little flustered. “Is there anywhere in particular you want to go today?”

I shrugged. “Not really. It’ll just be nice to walk around without being looked at funny because I won’t be with one or two other cult members in their all-beige outfits. Although… I should probably start concentrating on finding a job. Or at least trying to see what kind of place I’d want to work. And be able to work at. With no experience.”

Greid frowned down at me. “Beryl, you’ve been out less than a day.”

“I know, but I want to buy myself stuff. I want to contribute toward the bills and treat us to dinner. It shouldn’t all fall on you.”

“But I don’t mind—”

“I know you don’t.” I smiled up at him. “You’re already being so generous. I’m not going to take advantage of it for an easy ride. Besides”—I exhaled a hard breath—“I want to be independent. I guess I convinced myself that I was saying ‘fuck what’s expected of me, I’ll do it the way I want’ by using the cult for a comfortable life. But now that I’m away from it, it’s easier to see that the negatives hugely outweighed the positives. Sure, I had a big room and all my meals cooked for me and a comfortable place to live. But there were also the enforced bedtimes and strict diet and almost complete isolation from the outside world. I gave up a lot of freedom because I… felt safe there, I guess.”

Cheeks flushing, I glanced up at Greid. “Sorry, didn’t mean to start ranting.”

“No, I understand,” he said quietly. “Life is scary as shit. Expectations—and taxes—suck balls. And if there’s no one around to give you a gentle nudge out of your comfort zone… well, you’re not gonna do it. Most people, anyway. I’ve built a fortified wall around my comfort zone. And a moat. And I dug down deeper when Agma—my ex—tried to force me out of my comfort zone.”

I snorted, already feeling better after the hints of self-loathing that had begun to rise as I spoke. “I like your comfort zone. But if you did want a little push outside of it, maybe I could help you. I’ll build you a little bridge to get over the moat.” I grinned up at him. “We could do new things together. Not that I think you need to just for the sake of it. I think you have an awesome life already.”

Greid huffed. “I’m a recluse who spends his free time getting high and watching shitty TV.”