CHAPTER THREE.
devour.

02. ENEMY OF AN ENEMY...

"Clara! Let me take your coat."

If Clara could do it without consequence, she would ignore her boss and sneer in his face. There was kindness and then there was the false imitation of it. The one you could always expect to have a catch; the kind you were expected to pay back.

Clara didn't regard herself as a kind person. Most days, she hardly considered herself a person. But, she was patient. Bills weren't paid without patience— and money.

Which required her to stay at this job, where her boss would take her coat and stare the length of her body. He wasn't old. In fact, he was quite young. Too young, which made it both weird and awkward.

Clara doubted he knew how to talk to a woman, much less act around one. He respected boundaries enough, but his staring was creepy. Clara just needed to bide her time and hope that the next job she applied for hired quickly.

It wasn't that she was taking the raven's advice, but the stupid bird would make true on his promise to tell Morpheus.

Clara pondered that idea for a moment. She imagined what she might say if she saw him again. Call him a dirty thief, probably. It was true enough.

  However, when Morpheus took the time to invest himself in her life's business, it was hardly in her company. Like the time he had punished her by jumbling her thoughts and how they formed into words. She knew it was him, only because she had warranted the reaction by muzzling Matthew on one of his many check-ups.

  It was during presentation day in her college class. Clara didn't care about the poorly muffled laughter that echoed through the room when her words stopped making sense. And she didn't care that her professor had failed her. She wasn't exactly a stellar student, aiming for the stars or higher.

  Clara was just angry.

"Oh and Clara? Your first client is in your office."

Clara nodded at her boss, but didn't bother with a reply. Recollection of Dream and his childish antics had tired her patience. She made her way to her 'office.' A small space big enough for a desk, a filing cabinet, and a chair for her clientele.

  The figure sitting behind Clara's desk was blond. They were looking at a picture that had originally been hanging on the wall. It was from Clara's high school graduation. Her mother was at her side in the photo, both their smiles bright.

  Clara didn't smile like that anymore. Instead, she frowned as the figure turned to face her. "You're in my seat."

The woman's eyes were golden lacquer. "Hello," she said, her smile charming. Some type of delinquent or deviant by the subtle mischief on her face. It told Clara enough.

And those eyes. Clara knew those kind of eyes. Having known Dream and hearing his stories, Clara had learned to recognize when she was in the presence of the Endless. Her heart skipped a beat.

Desire.

"Why are you here?" Clara asked, her voice soft. The realization of who they were did little to ease her surprise.

Desire sighed, bringing a hand to her face. "You figured it out so quickly," she said, her voice almost mournful of the fact. Feminine features shifted to more androgynous ones, then to masculine. Like they couldn't decide which one suited Clara's taste more.

The transition was so subtle, so smooth. Beautiful. It made a part of her ache.

Desire's gaze was coy. "I thought I'd visit my future sister-in-law," they spoke with a grin. It felt like an insult.

They were gorgeous, in a way Clara assumed all Endless were. But, Desire was different. This beauty— this presence— evoked passion.

Clara's frown deepened. "Don't mock me."

Desire pinned her with a serious look. "I'm not mocking you. In fact, I've come to help you."

She was immediately annoyed. "You expect me to believe you just want to help me?" The last time Clara had met with an Endless, he had stolen away with her ambitions. Her dreams. All for a mere insult to ego.

"Of course not, Clara Ives," Desire insisted and his voice was soothing. The reassurance was lost on her. "I just want to have a little fun, that's all."

Clara sat down in her client's chair. "Was the near-attempt on your descendants lives not fun enough for you?" She had heard all about the ordeal. It was the sole instance that Dream had allowed her to hear of his troubles.

"It was, but he should be punished, don't you think?" Desire said it so casually, but it was obvious the idea excited him.

  It excited her too. "Why? Because you nearly tricked him into spilling your own blood?" Clara asked, kicking her feet up onto her desk. It was odd, how casual she felt in Desire's presence, but it didn't bother her— or them.

"Hm," Desire mused, "Yes, but his biggest crime seems to be his arrogance. You've seen it once before, haven't you? Don't you think that's enough to warrant your anger? A reason to retaliate?"

Clara rolled her eyes, "Yes, because I am oh, so capable of revenge right where I am." She flicked a piece of lint from her shirt. She didn't like the idea of being a pawn in Desire's game.

However, she did like the idea of revenge, regardless of where she got it from. She didn't doubt that her punishment would be more severe if she were caught, but that did little to convince her of dismissing the offer. There were worse things than not dreaming, Clara knew that, but she craved that retribution.

And Desire knew it too.

"It bothers me that you both think I'm the answer to your problems. One of you wants me for marriage, the other wants me for revenge..."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Clara," Desire spoke softly, "But, don't overestimate yourself either. You're hardly the answer, but you're enough to satiate me." 'For now,' was what he didn't say.

"Hm, you're really selling yourself," Clara retorted, but she was only toying.

He smiled, wide and humoured, "If you truly thought there was another way, you would've tried it by now. You need me and, luckily enough, I have need of you."

"What a joy," she muttered, already regretting this agreement.

"I'll come for you when I'm ready," Desire spoke, rising from her desk. His every move was poised. Deliberate. And a little bit sensual.

She sighed, "Yes, because I have all the time in the world." Clara was not ready to wait on another Endless to cease her suffering.

He came closer, reaching out to hold her face in their hands. Those eyes roved her features in admiration. Whatever they saw must have been very pleasing.

Then, Desire grinned, like he knew something she didn't (which, in all manners, was true.)

"Patience is key," he whispered, pressing a cordial kiss to her forehead, "I'll see you soon, little dove."

And then they were gone.

•

  Clara's stomach turned the entire trip home. A knot of nerves and excitement. She hadn't felt like this in so long, with something concrete to look forward to. She needed to devise a plan.

Though, before all that, Clara had to stop at the library. She didn't own a computer and internet bills were too high to manage (she usually stole wifi from the apartment next door.) That made the public library the only useful place to start looking for a new job.

When she arrived, it was quiet. Library's usually were, but not in the town she lived in. The local adults made a habit of bringing in every screaming child they could while utilizing the free wifi. The toddler section was a graveyard of torn picture books and broken toys.

So, when she entered to silence and an empty front desk, Clara frowned. The elderly woman rarely left her seat when she was on shift— and it was Tuesday. Surely, the senile old lady hadn't died or retired yet. Clara wandered up to the front to wait for her return.

Instead, a head of brown curls appeared. The figure rose and, when Clara took a step back, the man let out a surprised gasp, "Holy shit!"

She glared, "You know kids go here, right?"

He glanced to the children's corner. When he saw it was empty, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, sorry."

Clara pointed at the room in the back. "I'm here to register for the computer." He handed her the clipboard and she signed her name off on #5. It was the closest to the wifi router.

"Come here often?" He asked, peering down at her selection.

  Clara responded with a look of disgust. "Don't talk to me," she said, turning away from the desk. She didn't care for making small talk, leaving the front desk without a backwards glance.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Clara ignored him, letting the door close behind her in some semblance of privacy. The room was empty. A blessing and a rarity. Clara settled into the chair before getting to work.

  She knew most people found her off-putting and rude and Clara made no effort to remedy it. A desire to be left alone had taken up the space where life and hope and dreams had been.

  It wasn't exactly misery. She didn't particularly feel unhappy. Clara just lacked the energy most people required to keep moving. It was simply habit at this point, to continue from one step to the next. Clara wouldn't exactly say it was depression— maybe loneliness. Certainly vengefulness.

  Spite was also a good motivator— and so Clara did not feel guilty as she pondered Desire's offer (and what she might do when she was once again in the presence of her former lover.)

AN. I adore Desire so much. I will be switching between she/her, he/him, and they/them for this character. If that gets confusing, I don't care. Desire is my non-binary, gender-fluid dream and I love them. Literally everything I ever wanted for representation.