Isellta soaped himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. His hair lay completely flat against his scalp with the tips of his ears peeking through. Water poured off his large black wings, creating swimming pools on the floor.
He bristled out his feathers and flared out his wings. He flapped the extra water off, sprinkling it all over the walls and adding even more water to the floor.
I wish Robin were here.
He picked a towel off the counter and worked on drying his hair.
If Robin were here, I’d have him do this for me.
The Robin I know would become angry and irritable about me asking him for such a favor.
Isellta remembered how Robin had looked at him on the monitor.
Maybe that Robin would be happy to do it for me.
Isellta imagined him taking the towel and rubbing his wet head.
His wings involuntarily flapped.
Maybe he would be quiet.
Maybe he would call me a stupid fey.
Maybe he would say nice things to me.
Maybe he would say he loves me.
I don’t know.
Maybe he isn’t like that.
Maybe Robin is Robin and he will always be Robin.
Maybe he will never be the Robin I fantasize about.
One who is gentle and loving.
One who will look at me and see me as more than a heartless fey.
He’ll see me as me.
Someone who wants to be loved, who needs to be loved.
Who deserves to be loved.
Can anyone see me that way?
Isellta lowered his hands. The towel stayed on his head.
What does it matter?
Her Majesty chased him away.
He thinks I hate him.
Maybe he hates me.
His wings flittered in irritation.
There’s no sense in worrying about that.
He resumed his hair drying.
Maybe she was lying to me.
Maybe she wants me to believe that she chased him away.
That doesn’t make sense.
Why would she run the risk of me turning against her?
Maybe she thought I’d crumple and fully surrender myself to her.
That does make sense.
Isellta raised his head and the towel slid down to his shoulders.
Maybe there is hope.
Maybe he still loves me.
Maybe he’s still waiting for me.
Maybe he still wants me.
Me with all of my wrongness.
His heart ached.
Or maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe she told me the truth.
Maybe he does hate me.
Isellta’s mouth curved into a sad line.
Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.
I hurt and I feel so alone.
Whether you hate me or not, come to me. Let me see you. Let me really see you.
If you hate me, tell me straight to my face. At least, then I would know.
If you don’t hate me, tell me. Take me in your arms and tell me.
Robin, I miss you.
I love you.
Please love me.