Chapter Text
The first time they'd met Niki, Capella had been ten. Niki, at twelve, had seemed centuries more mature.
Capella had found him at the base of a tree, kicking around a ball by himself.
"Can I play with you?"
Niki had stopped, looking them over, one foot planted in jealous protection on top of the ball. He'd pointed at the tree, at a bird's nest tucked high into the thin branches.
"I'm hungry. Steal an egg for me, and we can play."
"Okay," Capella had said, thrilled to be invited to participate.
-
Capella had been eleven when they'd first broken their arm. They'd been sledding with Niki, zipping down an incline they weren't supposed to play on. They were both laughing, excited by their own daring.
"You should try that way," Niki had said, pointing.
Capella had looked, and frowned.
"It seems… scary."
"Are you a baby? A baby would be too afraid," Niki taunted, and Capella's small hands had gripped the sled more tightly.
"I'm not!"
"Prove it."
And Capella bit back the anxiety and said, "Okay."
Niki had come to visit them after, and knocked on Capella's cast.
"You can still play with me tomorrow, right?"
-
When Capella had been thirteen, there had been a girl. Her name was Inais, and she had smiled a lot, inviting Capella to come over and play a dice-rolling game with her. The dice she had carved herself, inset with tiny rounded beads so she could feel the numbers instead of see them.
Capella had thought they were cool, loved them enough that she had offered to spend the next few days teaching them how to make their own.
"You've been spending a lot of time with her," Niki said, when Capella showed him the results of their hard work. "Is she your best friend now?"
Capella had been startled into an answer. There had never been any doubt in their mind.
"No! You've always been my best friend, Niki."
Niki had looked satisfied. "Good. You're mine, too. Can I have that one?"
He'd pointed at Capella's favorite, the best-made die with rounded pieces of seashell instead of beads.
"Okay," Capella said, and pressed it into his palm. "See? We're best friends."
-
Niki had done his growing gracefully. He'd grown up first, getting taller and leaner, his face growing sharper and his eyes flashing under dark brows. He'd kissed boys and girls and held their hands and stolen moments away with them, and then he left them.
"You're lucky," he'd said once to Capella, standing ankle-deep in the lapping waves of a lake, skipping stones across the water. "People leave you alone. They never leave me alone."
"Why don't you tell them to stop bothering you, then?" Capella had asked, and Niki had shrugged.
"You won't understand it."
"I guess not," Capella said, sitting on the shore and tucking their knees up under their chin. "But I will someday."
And Niki had laughed. "You're not the same as me. You won't."
"Okay," Capella had said, "I won't."
-
Capella's growing did not come gracefully. First there was the weight. They were hungry all the time, and never satiated for long. Niki poked their stomach and made jokes, and Capella always laughed.
But Capella's father would only give them so much. Daniil and the rest had to eat, he said sternly, and Capella was old enough to know not to be selfish.
Selflessness didn't make the hunger go away, and Capella started hunting. They tracked animals and set traps and climbed trees and fished, and along that time their height began to creep up. The weight they put on changed in quality, muscle instead of fat. Their hair grew longer and their coordination improved. They got better at hunting, and the extra food they gifted instead of saving for later.
And people were looking now. The types of glances that Capella was receiving were changing.
In the week leading up to the spring festival of their seventeenth year, four people asked Capella to spend it with them. Two of them did it with gifts.
"I think I might go with Anahi," Capella had confided to Niki later. "He's pretty."
"Don't," Niki had said, and kicked a flower.
"Why?"
"I don't want you to go with anyone else."
"You've been going with someone else every year," Capella had pointed out. Gently.
"So? Things were different then."
"I don't understand."
"You never do."
And Niki had taken Capella's face in both hands, leaning up on his toes to steal their first kiss.
"I want you to go with me ," he'd said, pulling back.
"Okay," Capella had breathed, bright-eyed.
-
Niki was lying with his head on Capella's lap, absently curling a lock of their hair around one finger.
"It's getting long," he said. "Are you going to cut it?"
"Maybe."
"I think you should. It's getting in your face. I like your face."
"Okay," Capella smiled, "I'll cut it."
Niki reached up to push their hair behind their ear, fingertips grazing a scabbed-over scratch on Capella's jaw. He frowned.
"This is new."
"It's nothing," Capella said hastily, and Niki's frown deepened. "I didn't even notice it until yesterday."
Niki sat up, one hand in the thick grass to prop himself up. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? You trust me. I know you do."
Capella bit the inside of their cheek. "I do. I love you. I'd trust you with anything."
"Then tell me the truth."
"... Okay."