"You go first," he'd said.

Mary-Anne liked to imagine herself as a woman willing to challenge her preconceptions. And if anything, the whirlwind events of the past few weeks had vindicated her. What else could you call making friends with borrowers? Or, rather, making friends with Sidhe; "borrower", like "tiny", was just a human euphemism that had caught on, and Mary-Anne tried to make a point of using the correct term.

"You will want to close your eyes," the Wizard had instructed.

It was honestly surreal how she had ever considered them in the same category as mice and rats; not people, but household pests, sometimes pets, that just happened to resemble miniature humans. How had she never thought to stop and exercise the smallest modicum of empathy with beings she knew could think and speak? No, she knew the reason, it was just a disappointing one.

"You can open your eyes now, the curse is broken," the Wizard had assured, his voice sounding so much fainter that it was almost a struggle to hear in the empty room.

The reason was that Mary-Anne had never cared much about "tinies". They were something in the background, a cartoon on a pet food ad, a conversation starter for her friends, and sometimes, a melancholy smear on the floor. Even now, despite her efforts, some of that thinking still remained.

"Egan?" she was asking, confused and distressed why the man who'd been by her side since the start, who'd fought just as hard as she had to break their curse, who had held her in his arms as she confessed her feelings, was still on the table, tiny and shaking his head with a sad smile.

Mary-Anne liked to imagine herself as a woman willing to challenge her preconceptions, but this was one she couldn't bear to lose.

"I'm sorry," he started, and even with how quiet he was to her returned-to-normal hearing, she could tell he was completely sincere. "I- I saw how lost and confused you were, and I-"

No.

"I had to be the person you wanted."

No.

"And that person wasn't a Sidhe."

NO.

Mary-Anne collapsed to her knees, bringing herself down to the table.

"No..." she whispered.

She could feel his feather-light pulse against her fingers. It was racing. Mary-Anne had only known Egan for a few weeks, but part of what she had fallen in love with was how brave he was. With all the dangers they'd faced at their tiny size, he never showed any fear, always so confident he could overcome it. Weather, insects, wild animals, and even close calls with other humans had not been enough to shake him. But now? He was terrified. And as much as Mary-Anne wanted to pretend different, the knowledge that it was because of her stung. His lie had hurt, yes, but what she was doing, even without intending, was closer to torture than anything fair.

Mary-Anne sighed and slowed her pace.

"Egan," she said, bringing her hand up and uncurling her fingers slightly to give him more room. Belatedly, she realized that she had no idea what the proper strength for holding a sidhe was, and found herself searching his movements for any sign of injury.

The man was silent. To his credit, he'd managed to look her in the eyes, even as his own were verging on panic. And knowing what she did now, she recognised the kind of strength that took. From his perspective he was what? One hundred feet above the ground? Two hundred? And being stared down by an angry giant while in her hand.

"Egan, I'm- urgh, I'm not going to hurt you," she ground out. Now, if he were her-sized, she definitely would have given him a bloody nose for his stunt. But he wasn't. Venting her anger on him would just be cruel. She'd probably already given him some bruises worse than anything she'd be able to give another human just by the way she'd been gripping him, a fact that made her feel sick at her stomach. Did that make her a liar?

"I am," and she had to stop herself at the flare of rage that welled up, "angry with you. With what you did." There was the temptation to lay out exactly what he'd done wrong, but she knew that it would only serve to make herself more upset and put Egan in very real danger of being killed. Another grievance to add to the list; he'd made her fall in love with someone who was exactly one bad day from being a tragedy. Mary-Anne was not ready for that kind of responsibility. It wasn't the relationship she'd been imagining while wrapped up in his strong arms. Hah. What a joke. Those same arms had barely registered when they'd tried their hardest to push apart her fingers.

She was getting side-tracked. "Very angry. But I'm not going to kill you. Or maim you. Or anything like that. I just," and she paused again, because she didn't actually know why she'd done anything. "I just needed some space. Alone. With you."

He wasn't shaking as much anymore, and she could even see the ghost of words in the way he clenched his jaw, but he remained silent. So she continued. "I'm taking you to my dorm."