Page 7 of Dealing With Drak
Smart hu-nim. Of course she will.
2
Anna
“What is this?” I ask, staring down at the prettiest knife I’ve ever seen, attempting to look bored with it.
It’s silver, sharp as fuck, and decorated with little metal vines around the hilt. Drak just wordlessly handed it over to me a few seconds after interrupting my peace and quiet. I was going to snap at him to leave me alone, but I couldn’t exactly do that holding something of his.
Drak, never one to be deterred by my attitude, simply grins. “It is for you, I made it this morning. Do you like it?”
“You… made this?” I echo, hardly believing my ears. Why the hell would Drak craft me a knife?
“I did,” he agrees happily. “I mended some of your hu-nim metal with the superior Aprixian material along the edge. So it is not too heavy but very sharp like my own. Do you like it?”
Do I like it? It’s the single best thing anyone has ever given to me, let alone made for me with their bare hands.
“It’s nice,” I say, settling on the neutral but positive response. It’s hard to be rude to Drak when he’s being so fucking sweet. Ugh, why can’t he be a dickhead like every other man in existence?
Drak beams with the biggest smile, like I just kissed him or something.
Clearing my throat before this gets awkward, I sheath the blade back into its leather casing and secure it to my belt. “Thank you,” I add, hoping it doesn’t encourage him to do this more. I don’t need anything from him, even if I love the knife.
“You are welcome, Mean One,” he sing-songs happily. Since the sun is nearly set, he tips back his head at the sky, assessing it. “The stars are coming out, will you let me observe them with you again?”
I want to tell him hell no, but refrain. I don’t own the fucking roof, he can sit up here if he wants.
“Do what you want, Drak,” I drawl, resiting the urge to pull my new knife out and stare at it like it’s a damn treasure chest full of gold.
Satisfied with my answer, he bobs his head once. His big, stupidly handsome alien head. I don’t understand how the Aprixian’s are nice to look at, they just are. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie, of course I understand it.
They’re just like huge multi-colored humans with pointy ears and thick bodies of muscle. From what I’ve learned, the Aprixians come in rainbow colors. Different shades and tones of blues, greens, pinks, yellows, reds, purples, and so on. Drak, in particular, is like some kind of alien warrior playboy. His face is kind but sharp. Because while his eyes are soft, his jaw and cheekbones are hard. He’s green like wintergreen tree leaves, darker at night and brighter under the sun’s rays.
I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to look at Drak, but if I’m honest, he’s the person I see the most.
I wake up in the morning and go to eat breakfast, boom, he’s the only other person in the house that’s awake. I’m going to see the stars? He’s already on the roof. I want to go let off some steam by killing zombies? He’s volunteering to take me before I can even ask. Drak is a thorn in my side, but fuck, I’m hardly trying to pull out the barb.
“An-nana, how are you feeling on this day?” he asks casually, but there’s a slight concern in his tone.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, not bothering to ask how he is. He’ll tell me anyway.
“I am great,” he reports, right on cue. “I missed making weapons, it is much harder with Urth’s horrible technology selection, but I was able to make it work.”
It’s hard to take offense to the Aprixian’s considering Earth underdeveloped when they have spaceships, laser guns, and the ability to make fully robotic arms.
“Great,” I reply, tone less than enthusiastic. He should have made himself a knife, giving it to me is stupid. What the hell do I deserve it for?
“An-nana, are you sad?” he asks bluntly.
“No, Drak,” I lie. “I’m not sad.”
He hums, his gaze burning into the side of my face. “Is there something on your mind? You have not given me your anger once today.”
Because you gave me a gift, and I’d feel guilty if I did.
“I’m fine, Drak. Leave me alone.”
“No,” he huffs. “I will not.”