Archive of Our Own ^beta

Have you ever wondered about people who just disappear out of nowhere? People with good lives, good relationships, and good jobs. People who don’t seem to have a single good reason behind why they would ever want to just up and… Disappear? People who seem to have a good life.

Have you ever wondered about what happened to those people? People who go missing one day, as if they just poofed out of existence. People who go missing in the middle of a normal day, eating breakfast, walking to school, or going out on their lunch break. People who seem completely happy and content with the way their life is going, only to disappear in a moment’s notice, with nary a trace left behind.

Some people wonder about it so much that they create legends about it. Myths that attempt to understand the bizarre. Myths that explain the unexplainable. Myths that give reason behind something that has none.

Even with humanity’s ever-advancing progress, myths, legends, and stories still exist that perpetuate the idea that there’s something in our world that we will never understand.

Maybe they persist the way they do because… They’re true.

Your parents have tried to instill this fear in you. To never trust the darkness, the unknown, and what lurks behind it. Living in a town as small as the one you live in, these mentalities tend to happen. Small-town thinking, you’ve heard some call it.

But all you ever wanted to do was run and play as a child. You cared not for caution when you had so many things you wanted to do with very little time in the day to do it.

That was when you met him.

That was when you met your imaginary friend.

Well, everyone thought you had an imaginary friend. But he was real. Even when you were young, you knew the difference between what was real and what wasn’t; and he was as real as anything else in your life.

This is the story of how you disappeared.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was late June, the summer after your second grade of elementary school. Your friends decided to come over to your house to play hide-and-seek, mostly because you have the best hiding spots, both inside of your house, and outside of it.

You lived in a cozy cottage home near the outermost part of town. This meant that your backyard was the literal forest that surrounded your small town, and it also meant that there were dozens of hiding spots for you and your friends to exploit.

Your parents have tried to warn everyone about straying too far in the forest, and for the most part, you all abided by it. But when you were playing hide and seek at your house, it became serious business for all of you. You took it about as seriously as your school tests. Or at least, as seriously as everyone kept telling you to.

Everyone always tried to come up with their own clever ideas to stay hidden for as long as possible. There have even been times when they’ve even gotten your parents involved, or brought black costumes with them to help them hide like ninjas.

Not once had the latter idea worked.

This time though, you wanted to win by your own merit, without the help of tools or adults like your friends all tended to do (even though you’ve all mutually agreed that it’d be cheating to do so at this point coughcough Eridan coughcough). You even prepared yourself in the days leading up to your play-date by exploring parts of the forest you were told not to go to, trying to ensure that you can find your way back.

You did so by putting subtle markers all around the places you went to. A scratched line on a tree’s bark, stacked pebbles near some bushes, hand-drawn symbols on the ground. For the most part, you remembered all the places you put your markers on and managed to find your way back using those guidelines.

You were confident in your abilities.

So, when Vriska was picked to be the first seeker of the day, you thought that it'd be a good idea to hide deeper in the woods than what was advised by your parents.

At the time, you thought you were being clever. When Vriska started counting down and you all split up, you thought you were being smart by straying out of bounds of what was allowed.

You thought that as you climbed over fallen logs, passed by small frog ponds, and ran through the underbrush. You were even patting yourself on the back, grinning like a stupid idiot at your own brilliance. Bravado like that certainly isn’t fucking earned, considering you were only seven.

Especially when you got it in your head that you could stray even farther than where your markers stopped and still find your way back.

As you trekked deeper and deeper into the woods, you eventually found a huge hollowed-out tree trunk and decided that it was a perfect hiding spot. So, you squeezed your tiny body inside it and began to wait.

You waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You didn’t know how much time passed before you got sick of waiting. Considering you were seven, it probably wasn’t that long. But it certainly felt like a lot of time.

You got out of your log intending to find another hiding spot that’s a little closer to home. But as you were walking back, trying to find something that looked familiar, you had the sick and slow realization that nothing around you looked familiar no matter how long you walked.

You tried to stick to your path for a long time, ignoring the growing knot in your stomach. In your kid-mind, you thought that if you just kept walking, you’d eventually hit your home. But the longer you walked, the more you questioned whether or not you were going the right direction.

The noises of the woods started to get to you as paranoid continuously rose within you. Every little rustle or crunch made you flinch. Even the melody of the songbirds began to feel ominous.

You weren’t sure when you started shouting, but you did. You shouted for your friends' names, you shouted for your parents. But the trees seemed to only swallow your voice, never carrying it far no matter how hard you shouted.

You walked.

And you shouted.

And you walked.

And you shouted.

Until your feet hurt too much to carry you onwards, and your voice had gone hoarse from all the shouting.

You probably should have just stayed put, instead of continuing to walk. But fear had taken hold of you then, making your legs move. And feeling the sun move across the sky as you walked only fueled your fear further, forcing you to continue in a desperate hope that at any moment, you’ll see the silhouette of your house and find all of your friends and your parents waiting for you with open arms.

You weren’t sure when you started crying. But your eyes were already hurting by the time you stopped to sit against a tree.

You cried.

And cried.

And cried.

You weren’t sure how long you cried. But you cried long enough that you ran out of tears, feebly holding yourself in a tight ball as the shadows grew longer in the forest at the arrival of the afternoon. A vivid orange had taken over the sky, bathing everything in dark shades of amber and rust.

That was when you met him.

“Are you lost?” A faceless voice asked, words echoing around you as if it were everywhere at once.

You remember looking wildly around you, terror making you curl tighter around yourself. “C-can- can you- hic- help m-me?” You sobbed, hiccuping desperation colouring your voice pathetic.

“I can help,” the voice replied, closer this time. When you crane your head it's way, you find someone standing where they weren’t just a second before.

Even as young as you were, you were able to recognize how beautiful he was, in an inhuman way that no normal person could ever achieve. With sharp ears, fair skin, and even fairer hair, he stood out against the growing darkness all around you. The thought you had at the time was that he looked like one of those people from those fancy paintings from way back when with the way he dressed.

He was so breathtakingly attractive that you even forgot the fact that you were supposed to be afraid of him since he was a stranger that suddenly manifested out of nowhere. But it never felt that way, even at your first meeting.

When he knelt in front of you, you were overwhelmed with the pleasantly fresh scent of spring he carried with him. “What’s your name?”

Something about him and the way he talked just had a calming effect on you. His silvery voice washed away all traces of fear and worry you’ve been feeling in the past few hours. It made you feel like you were sitting by the fire on a cold winter’s day with a fluffy blanket hugging you closely around your shoulders.

You barely thought about it when you answered him quietly, “Karkat.”

The smile that appeared on his face was faint, yet it felt like it brightened your entire surroundings. “You have a very pretty name, Karkat."

“I want to go home,” you told him.

He nodded and gracefully stood up, forcing you to crane your head up to stare at him. He was so tall, so willowy.

He offered you his hand.

You took it.

And together, you began walking along the woods. You remember how his hand had dwarfed your own, much like how you felt walking with him by your side.

“What’s your name?” You queried, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes. At the time, you thought that staring too long at him would somehow blind you permanently, so you kept your eyes trained on the ground below, focusing hard on not tripping on stray stones or sticks in your path.

You remember how he met your eyes, red as the sunset sky and twinkling with something unnatural. The answer he gave you was a name you couldn’t reasonably pronounce, but the closest you could get was “Dave.”

He had smiled at you, soft laughter sounding like the swaying of tree branches. “Close enough,” he told you. “You can call me by that name if you wish.”

You nodded, still keeping your focus on the ground.

The two of you walked in silence for a while until he asked you another question. “How did you become lost in these woods?”

“I was playing hide and seek with my friends.”

“Didn’t your parents warn you about straying too far?”

“They did.”

“And why didn’t you listen to them?”

You frowned at that, heat creeping up your face in embarrassment. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of the terrible state you were in, with wild dirty hair, scratched-up knees, and a snot-covered face.

Before you could answer his previous question though, he stopped in his tracks, forcing you to stop as well. He knelt once again to be at your eye level, taking the hand that’s in his and laying it flat open. Then, with his other hand, he placed something cold and metallic in your hand, moving your fingers to curl around it.

“What is it?” You inquired when he released your hand. It was circular and golden, with what looks like splotches of rust from weathering through time. When you pressed the tiny button on its side, the lid popped open to reveal what looked like a clock without numbers.

“If you’re ever lost again, this will always lead you back home.” He stood up. You remember looking up at him with admiration in your eyes as you clutched the device close to your chest. “Back to wherever your heart desires.”

“Are you sure I’m allowed to keep it?” You questioned. He simply nodded his head in silent permission.

Then, he pointed ahead of you. When you moved your head where his finger pointed, you found that you were suddenly back at the edge of the forest, with your house in plain view in the distance. You walked for so long, yet a short walk with him seemed to have transported you so far.

Your child-like admiration for him only grew, and when you turned back to try and thank him, you found him gone from your side. He disappeared as quickly as he came to you, leaving only the faint scent of something vaguely sweet and floral.

Still, you muttered, “Thank you,” to the woodland. Somewhere deep in your gut, you knew he could hear you, wherever it was he disappeared off to.

Then, you turned and stepped out of trees. Your parents were the first to greet you, taking you in their arms with tears and smiles. Your friends joined in, turning into a big pile of group hugs.

But all you wanted to do was to learn more about the mysterious stranger who found you when you were lost.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

In the weeks and months after your encounter, you found a new obsession. As soon as your friends went home and your parents patched up every little cut and scratch you got from roaming around in the forest, you did a deep dive on the internet.

Your parents were pretty lax when it came to what you could do, so long as you didn’t hurt yourself. They didn’t even have strict rules around the use of technology, just that you were only allowed an hour each day on the computer.

That night, you spent your whole hour trying to find out more about the mysterious stranger in the woods.

Your “research” (which essentially just amounted to a bunch of google searches) led you into believing that he was some kind of fae creature. And from there on, every day, you used every hour of your computer time into researching faeries and the mystical land they come from.

Then, when you felt like you’ve exhausted every article that popped up on your searches, you begged your parents to take you to bookstores and libraries to see if they had books on the subject.

Throughout the rest of your summer, you spent most of your time learning more about the myths, legends, and stories surrounding the fae and the forests they live in. You learned charms and incantations in the books you collected. You learned summoning rituals and offerings, things to do to attract them and things to avoid if you want to ward them off.

You tried doing a few of them, but it never worked out. First, you tried venturing out in the woods again, to get lost just so he could find you again. But no matter how deep you go, you manage to end up back where you started.

Your second attempt was trying to make offerings. You brought freshly baked bread and pastries, strawberry jams and fruits from the grocery store. You even brought little trinkets, like shiny display figures from the attic and small one dollar toys from a local toy shop in town. You left these items at the edge of the forest, hoping your offerings will catch his attention.

For a short time, you thought they were working because the very next day you checked to see if they’re still there, they end up being gone. But when you decided to stay up late one night to see if you could catch the culprit in the act, you, unfortunately, made the disappointing discovery that the creatures who took them were simply ordinary critters like raccoons and squirrels and curious ravens.

Still, you never quit in your quest to make contact with the mysterious stranger again. Not even when summer ended.

When you went back to school for third grade, you told all your friends all about your findings and about your encounter in the woods. They become enamoured with the idea of it just as much as you do, and talking about your “imaginary friend” became commonplace in your conversations.

You even tell your parents about it, and though they’re a bit more hesitant in believing you, they still hear you out and interact with you about them.

Every day you went to school, you carried the compass he gave you. You treated it like it was the most valuable thing you owned, wiping it down every day so it stays shiny. Somehow, you felt like even the rust started to recede with how much care you put into it.

Then, on one winter day, as you were walking home from the bus stop, an idea struck you while fiddling with the compass.

You were replaying your encounter inside your head for the thousandth time when what he said about the compass gave you an idea.

“If you’re ever lost again, this will always lead you back home,” he told you. “Back to wherever your heart desires.”

Back to wherever your heart desires.

The words echoed in your mind.

As soon as you got home, you intended to go out into the forest to test out your theory. But your mother made you do your homework and chores first before you could sneak your way out of the house. By the time you got everything done, the evening had already settled on the horizon.

You weren’t allowed to leave the house after four. But your mind just couldn’t let you sit still until tomorrow. 

So, you ate dinner with your parents and waited until late dusk to make your move. Thanks to both of their jobs starting early in the morning, they tended to turn in early at night too.

Only when you were sure both of them were fast asleep did you slip out of your bed and tiptoed your way downstairs with a flashlight in hand. You didn’t bother changing out of your pyjamas. But you do pick up a wool coat on your way out the back door. It was lightly snowing outside after all.

You quickly turned on your flashlight and popped open your compass when you made it to the edge of the forest. Then, once you’ve ensured that you were ready to go, you ran.

You ran. 

And ran.

And ran.

For one moment, the compass hand swung wildly around. But the more you thought of your goal, the more it began pointing to one, single direction. 

As you ran, you thought of dust after rain, the dew on the tip of grass blades. You thought of spring bouquets, flowers displayed in shops. You thought of fair skin and fairer hair.

The arrow pointed true.

And so you ran.

And ran.

And ran.

With your flashlight the only thing stopping you from stumbling face first in the darkness, you ran. You ran wherever your compass pointed. You ran until you were forced to stop when your flashlight abruptly flickered out.

Your excitement immediately evaporated, replaced by cold fear as your vision went pitch-black. All you could hear was your own heavy panting and the hooting of owls. You cursed at the wind for your shitty luck.

You shook your flashlight violently, attempting to get it to turn back on again as the chilly winter air threatened to swallow you whole. The heat from all that running you did was quickly draining from your body. But before panic at your situation fully took over your senses, the leafless trees above you seemed to purposefully shift to reveal the full glory of the full moon above you.

And with the faint silver glow aiding your eyes in seeing through the darkness, an almost luminescent figure steps from the shadows. The previously cool air seemed to be chased away at his arrival, replaced by a comfortable warmth radiating from him.

But his demeanour upon seeing you was anything but warm.

“It’s dangerous out here,” was the first thing that came out of his lips, something close to anger hardening his tone. “What are you doing running around at this time of night?”

“I came to see you,” You replied bluntly, an annoyance you never realized was in you bubbling to the surface. Somehow, all of your failed attempts to see him before now felt like him ignoring you.

And you really hated the idea of being ignored.

“Me?” He inquired, though the way he spoke it made it seem more like a statement. He took a wide step toward you, shoulders tensed up in a way you thought was meant to intimidate you. “Why?”

You glared up at him defiantly. “I wanted to see you again,” you told him matter-of-factly as if he were the dumb kid, not you.

He raised a brow at you, disdain crossing his features. “And what made you think I’d want to see a stupid child again?”

You couldn’t stop the hurt from flashing on your face fast enough. Which you were actually glad for because his expression was promptly replaced by regret. You turned your gaze down, idly kicking the soil under your feet. “I wanted to know more about you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Until he knelt and ducked his head to be able to see your down-turned face. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “But wandering around these woods at night is no place for a mortal like you. You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come to find me again.”

You raised your head to frown at him. “Why not? Why can’t I?”

“I’m dangerous.”

“How?”

“You don’t know me.”

“I want to.”

“You can’t.”

“And why can’t I?”

“Because I said so.”

“Because not knowing you makes you dangerous?” You provided, the crease in your brow deepening. “That’s why I want to know you.”

He stared at you with exasperated eyes. Even an otherworldly being like him couldn’t beat the circular thinking of a child.

“Fine,” he finally conceded with a sigh. “On the first full moon of every season, you may come to seek my presence. But only in daylight will I appear with a greeting.”

“Do you promise that?” You pressed, raising a brow at him and offering him your pinky finger. You’ve read that his kind couldn’t break promises if you could get him to make that deal with you.

For a moment, you thought you saw the hint of mischief twinkle in his crimson red eyes. He held out his pinkie finger and intertwined it around yours. “I give you my word, Karkat.”

And with that, your seasonal meetings with him were sealed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next time you met him was in Spring. Per the terms of your agreement.

You paid attention to the calendar like a hawk, marking specific days when the first full moon would occur each season. Each week seemed to stretch on longer than it used to be. You spent many hours staring at the woods from your bedroom window, watching the progression of the season at a snail’s pace.

When the snowflakes stopped falling from the sky, and flowers started cracking through the frozen ground, you began counting down the days to the first full moon of the season. And when the day finally came, the first thing you did was rush out into the forest without even alerting your parents on where you were going.

You were in the middle of spring break when the day you’ve been anticipating finally arrived. The trees have finally regrown all of their leaves, and flowers were sprouting from the damp earth beneath your feet. The birds were singing, and small animals that were previously in hibernation came alive once more.

Yet, you paid your surroundings no mind at all as you clutched your little golden compass and followed its arrow without even looking at where your feet were taking you.

Soon enough, your compass stopped moving, and you raised your head to assess where it led you. Only to find him already there, sitting idly on the grass with beetles, bees, and butterflies surrounding him like it was a normal thing that happened all the time.

Your belief that he wasn’t human was only solidified at that moment. No normal human can tame a wild bee. And let’s be honest, beekeepers were the bee’s bitches, not the other way around.

“Are you some kinda fuckin’ Disney prince?” The words just came stumbling out of your mouth without a thought. He raised his head to meet your gaze, confusion was written plainly across it.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He replied sarcastically, waving his hand loosely and dismissing all of the bugs in a single swift motion. “I don’t know what a ‘Disney prince’ is. Are you here to enlighten me?”

You huffed at his first comment, shoving your compass into the pocket of your red zip-up hoodie. “No. I’m here to get to know you. Remember?”

“Was that deal only supposed to go one way? Forgive me if I misinterpreted things the wrong way, but isn’t ‘getting to know someone’ supposed to go both ways?”

You rolled your eyes at him, throwing your arms up in exaggerated surrender. “Fine! We can each take turns asking questions- but you need to answer mine first!”

“Seems unfair to keep me in suspense about what a ‘Disney prince’ is,” he replied dryly. Then, as if it was simply an afterthought, he patted the ground beside him. “Do you plan on standing there all day?”

You began to question why you wanted to get to know him in the first place. The mystique started to wear off the moment he began to talk to you normally. Still, you took a seat beside him and began explaining at length about what a ‘Disney prince’ is.

And… He listened to every word you said. He asked questions when clarifications were needed, but he never interrupted you when you rambled on until you changed topics altogether. He was attentive, with red eyes that never wandered around once in boredom. Something even your parents couldn’t do for more than thirty minutes.

In their defence, you probably wouldn’t want to listen to you talk either.

You didn’t know how long you talked, with brief interjections from him. But somehow, you ended up laying down and simply watching the clouds move above you, feeling calm and content. It was nice. None of the adults you knew, aside from your parents, ever wanted to listen to a kid like you were.

Eventually, your attention was brought back over to him. “Dave?”

It was the first time you spoke his name. Yet, he responded to it as if it wasn’t a nickname you came up with because his actual name was very strange to pronounce. "Hm?”

“How do you spell your name?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before taking your hand. With a long finger, he wrote down letters on your palm as he spoke them. “It’s D-A-F-Y-D-D.”

Then, he began to draw different symbols on your hand, ones that were completely unfamiliar to you. “There are many variants to it, but my true name is the one I’ve given you.”

“What does your name mean?”

It was the first time he smirked at you. The start of many. “Beloved.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed his hands away from yours. “Psh. Sounds like total bullshit.”

His laughter was unexpected, light and airy. “I can’t lie, Karkat,” he told you honestly. That caught your attention and you sat up to properly look at him.

“So it’s true? Faeries can’t lie?” You questioned in wonderment.

He shook his head. Then, he asked, “How do you know what I am?”

It was your turn to smile smugly. “I did some research. I know a lot of things about faeries now, and all I have to do is fact check with you. Which should be really easy now that I know you can’t lie.”

He watched you with an amused expression, cocking his head to the side. “I wouldn’t be as quick to trust that rule,” he stated vaguely. “There are still many ways to avoid the truth even when you can’t lie.”

“How?”

This time, when he smiled, it reminded you of the cat from “Alice in Wonderland.” “Why would I tell you?”

You frowned. “Unfair. I told you so many things about my life and you’ve barely confirmed anything about yours.”

He shrugged, leaning back on the grass with his hands. “Not my problem. You’re the one with the ability to lie.”

“But I don’t want to lie to you,” you said stubbornly.

His smile took on a sadder tinge, the natural glow around him seeming to dim by a fraction. “You’ll learn to,” he responded, voice soft and melancholic. “They always do.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Every season after that spring, you met him without fail. Even when it was on school days, the first thing you did was head straight to the forest with your backpack still with you.

Sometimes, he’d already be there, waiting for you on the ground. Sometimes, you’d arrive earlier than him, and you’d wait for him on a tree stump in the shade. But no matter what, no matter the time of day, no matter the temperature or weather, the two of you will meet.

In the summer, you asked him, “You can’t lie, right? Did you mean it when you said you didn’t want to see me again?”

Tonelessly, he had answered, “Of course not. I asked about what made you think I did, which technically isn’t lying- and before you ask, I don’t think you’re stupid either. But straying into the forest and getting lost certainly was.”

You asked him to teach you how to lie without lying. He didn’t answer your request and simply told you a tale about two travellers and a kingdom of apes. By the end of it, you had asked him what the point of it was if the traveller who told the truth got punished in the end. He didn’t attempt to teach you the true lesson to be learned and let you rant about the stupidity of his fable, which you thought failed completely.

In the autumn, you asked him, “Can you control animals?”

Laughingly, he said, “No, I cannot. But I’ll tell you a secret: animals can talk. And if you treat them the right way, they will be open to telling you things or owing you favours. They’re just like everyone else in that sense.”

You excitedly asked him about what kind of things they have told and done for him, and he whispered funny stories in your ear about your neighbours. The next day at school, you got in a fight with the other boys in the playground when you saw them chasing and squishing bugs with sticks. Despite the bruises and the trip to the principal you got, you were proud of defending nature. Maybe they’ll owe you one for protecting them. Until they do though, you swore to yourself you’d keep defending them.

In the winter, you asked him, “How old are you? I read in books that the fae are immortal. How long have you lived?”

He got quiet for a long while as the two of you walked along a narrow frozen riverbank. “As old as the oldest tree that ever lived.”

You asked him just how old that tree was. He told you, “it’s as old as the first piece of written literature.” When you asked him how old that was, he responded, “Older than you will ever experience, if you keep asking that question.” When you asked him what things he had seen in that time, he instead answered by asking you what you would do if you had all that time in your hands. You told him you’d want to see the world and everything it had to offer. All he did was smile at you.

In the spring, you asked him, “Can you do magic? And can you show me some if you can? Ooh, maybe you could even teach me!”

He raised a brow at your question, before shaking his head and replying, “I can. But I won’t show you. Nor can teach you, even if I could. Who knows what you would do with that kind of power?”

You thought about what he said before nodding your head in agreement. You knew you wouldn’t use that magic for good, so he was valid in wanting to keep it away from you. Still, you pressed him on why he couldn’t show you. He held his ground, but you continued to annoy him until he eventually gave up and said a few fancy words that then made you grow a tail momentarily. You continued to annoy him about letting you keep the tail, but when he suggested the idea of transforming you fully into an animal, your mouth audibly clicked shut.

And so on and so forth. Every season, on the first full moon, you went to the forest to see him. Every year, you saw him four times. And every time your day with him ends, you find that it was never enough.

You have so many stories to tell him, and so many questions to ask, even if he didn’t always answer it in a way that you can understand. The only way you felt like you were extending your time with him was by talking about him with others.

You told your friends. You told your parents. You told your classmates, your teachers, and your neighbours. But the more you grew up, the more they all got irritated by the stories you brought back from the forest. They called you a liar more and more. They told you to grow up more and more.

But didn’t want to- not if it meant outgrowing him too.

Eventually, you stopped talking about it with others altogether. You stopped enjoying the company of people, snapping at them like a particularly vicious puppy whenever they tried to approach you when you weren’t in the mood.

Instead, you spent your time indoors, rereading books you’ve read dozens of times before. Admiring its worn pages and faded pictures and writings. You retreated within yourself, comforting yourself with the familiar, never finding a good enough reason to move past your comfort zone. You didn’t go to parties or school events. You didn’t like going to unfamiliar places with your friends. You didn’t go out with your family on special occasions anymore.

Instead, you fell in love with stories, just as you fell in love with his story when you were younger. No matter how many questions you asked, his ethereal mystique never fully went away as you expected it to that first spring day. His long-winded riddle-like answers never gave you anything more despite the amount he spoke. Every time he opened his mouth, it felt like you were being fed sentences off of the pages you read before bed. 

In return, you told him all about your world. You told him about your favourite tv-shows like “Friends” and “The Office.” You told him about movies and uniquely human experiences he had never even heard of. You told him about video games and showed him what technology is. Sometimes, you even brought books and the two of you would read together under trees. On even rarer occasions, he’d spout off poems just off the top of his head, and you’d always stare at him in amazement.

No matter what it was you did with him, it was always the highlight of your day. Of your week. Of your month. Of your year. From walking along an unknown forest path while bird-watching, to getting to pet an actual deer up close alongside other various forest animals, you started living for your escape. 

You started to avoid real life. Started avoiding the truth, ignoring the warning signs posted on the path you were walking.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was summer and you were thirteen. There was a particularly terrible heat-wave hitting your region, and the only thing you had the energy to do after school was to sit in front of the electric fan and suck on a cold popsicle stick.

But when the day of the first full moon came again, even the sun’s soul-sucking heat couldn’t stop you from venturing into the forest with your compass. Although, you stopped needing to follow the compass’s arrow a long time ago.

The two of you always met in the same place- although you didn’t always stay in that place. It was a small groove with tall grass and many patches of flowers growing near the trunks of trees. You only find it familiar because of the frequency with which you visit, with individual trees you could identify with sight alone.

When you arrived, the sun was shining hot above you. He wasn’t there yet, so you took off your backpack and sat in the middle of the grove, watching colourful birds flit about from tree to tree. A pair you recognized were barn owls- he taught you a few species during your many meetings in the past six years.

As you watched the two of them take flight close to another, you realized that they looked familiar. They’re the same ones from last spring when mating season happened for them. Looked like they stayed together even after the mating season ended.

“They mate for life,” a voice spoke from behind you, the melodic quality of it unmistakable. “They only live for about four years in the wild, yet they stick with their one mate for most of those short four years.”

He never changed, no matter the year or the season. With fair skin that never betrayed his age, and even fairer hair that seemed to glow white under daylight. The only tell was his sharp red eyes, which stood out starkly from the rest of his youthful appearance. He wore a cream-coloured tunic with a lace cravat, and lace cuffs that flared outwards. Over top was a simple cherry red coat and waistcoat with subtle gold accents.

He wasn’t always in the same outfit every time you saw him, but for the most part, he always looked like someone who just stepped straight out of pride and prejudice. Somehow, he made you feel underdressed every time, with your baggy jeans and oversized graphic tees tucked half-way in.

“Took you long enough to get here,” you commented, pausing from your idle picking of grass blades. They’re soft and slightly damp, probably still drying from the rainy day that happened a few days ago.

He moved with the grace of the winds themselves, steps barely making a noise. When he stopped beside you, he tilted his head a little with a flash of puzzlement crossing his features. “Did your hair grow longer?”

You rolled your eyes, self-consciously running a hand through it. Despite your efforts, it stayed sticking up in all sorts of angles. “Wow. Thanks for noticing my terrible hair day, Dave. I’m really fucking touched. Have you noticed anything else that you want to comment on?”

Without missing a beat, he answered, “It suits you.”

You stared at him for just a beat too long.

“So, what do you want to do today?” He questioned casually as he took a seat beside you. “Have you finished Wuthering Heights? What did you think of it?”

You looked away and slumped down into the grass, basking in the comfortable warmth of the summer. “It was okay.”

He didn’t speak for a long while. When you opened your eyes to look at him, you found that he had also laid down beside you, watching the sky without an expression on his face. As if sensing your staring, he then spoke. “There’s something on your mind, isn’t there?”

You frowned at that and moved your gaze to stare up at the sky as well. Branches of trees swayed gently as a humid breeze blew by. “What’s wrong with me being silent for once?”

“Because even I can’t get you to be as quiet as you’re being right now.”

You punched him on the arm for that and all you got was a playful chuckle from him. The two of you lapsed into another stretch of silence before he asked, more softly this time, “Do you wish to talk about it?”

You thought about it for a moment before lightly nodding your head. “Terezi… Terezi is moving away.”

“That’s the blind girl, right?”

You nodded idly, brows furrowing together. “Her mom got a better paying job in some big city or something. I don’t fucking know. She said she would be moving as soon as the school year ends.”

“How do you feel about that?”

The question gave you pause. You didn’t want to think too hard about it because it meant examining how you felt closer than you’d like. She’d always been your closest friend in your huge friend group. Sometimes, you thought you felt something more there, but you never cared to explore it because you were more afraid of losing her in the process of it than you were of never seeing where it goes.

But that didn’t change the fact that she was leaving and you only had days left with her. You were aware that you could still text and call her but… It’s still different. Staying in contact will be harder to do. Who knew how long you could keep it up?

“I don’t know,” your words came out as a whisper.

It felt like you were losing more and more people every day. Your friend group had been drifting apart ever since you entered junior high. Eridan and Feferi started hanging out with the “popular crowd,” while Vriska just vanished one day after making friends with the kids from detention, taking Tavros with her. You tried meeting Gamzee’s side crew but were immediately driven away as soon as someone brought out a bong and started passing it around. And now… Now even Terezi was going away.

A lump formed in your throat at the thought. “Dave, do you have any friends?” You found yourself asking, trying to distract yourself from the gloomy thoughts beginning to crowd your brain.

“I have family,” He said without a tone in his voice to betray his thoughts on the matter. “And a friend or two, I suppose.”

“Are they like you?”

“Yes.”

“Have you… Ever drifted apart?”

He chuckled. “Every few centuries, when they decide to go gallivanting about in your human world. But they always come back, and when we meet again… It’s like no time had passed.”

You nodded faintly, thoughts a chaotic mess inside your head. Sometimes, you forgot that he was not human, but he was always quick to remind you with answers like that. “Have you ever had friends who weren’t like you?”

He didn’t answer you right away. “Yes.”

Dread immediately clawed it’s way up from your gut at the question that feebly stumbled out of your mouth next. “What happened to them?”

A pregnant pause settled between the two of you, one that only aggravated your anxiety-riddled mind. For a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“It’s important to keep connections with others,” he stated suddenly, which caught your attention. “Your friends and your family will keep you grounded. That’s why it’s important for you to always have someone else that isn’t me.”

His words only made you frown deeper. “Why?”

The way he looked at you then spoke volumes. Volumes you would not hear or understand for a long time. At the time, all his unspoken words simply confused you.

But before you could press him to say what he meant, he tore his gaze away from you and watched as the owls flew circles high above you.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” He followed up, watching them with a soft smile.

You turned your gaze away from him.

Yeah. They really are pretty.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

For the first time, the seasons passed you in a blink of an eye. Summer ended, and Terezi left.

You never did tell her how you felt.

When you met with him again in the autumn, you told him about it. You told him about the going away party you threw for her, about how all of your old friends came just to say good-bye. You told him about your birthday- how weird and different it felt without her celebrating by your side like she usually would.

You told him about your friends. Your memories with them as you all grew up alongside one another. All of your laughter and small sorrows. Your bruised knees and band-aids. Your parties and your embarrassments. You told him every little game of truth or dare and you told him every little secret that was passed along from one person onto the other. You told him every little relevant thing you could think of about your friends and your time with each of them.

You told him everything, intending to only savour the memories. Remind you of your happy times. But all it did was raise feelings you’ve been trying to keep buried all this time.

Then, you did the unthinkable- you cried.

As the burnt orange and golden yellow leaves fell from the trees, so did your tears. You cried like you haven’t done since you were a child. Since the day he met you on that summer afternoon, dirty and lost in the woods.

You cried.

And cried.

And cried.

You cried because you knew somewhere in your gut, that it would be the last time you saw everyone together again. That you would never, ever, return to that time again.

People change. People drift. People leave. Just as the seasons change, so do people. It’s a fact of life, yet you refused to acknowledge it.

You were growing older. You didn’t want to, but you were. While everyone else was moving on, experiencing life every day and letting it change them, you have stayed the same. While they learned new things, discovered interests, explored relationships, you have stayed the same. Stationary, watching everyone else moving ahead of you in ways you couldn’t imagine yourself catching up to.

They were all leaving you behind.

So you cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And it was the first time he ever hugged you. The first time he comforted you, running a soothing hand down your back as you fought to keep back racking sobs, only to utterly lose the entire war.

You didn’t realize it at the time.

But something changed that day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He suggested braiding your hair one spring day. You were sixteen, and you were complaining to him about high school as he weaved his hands into your dark mass of curly hair. Spring break had given you your much-needed reprieve from the hell that was being around your peers.

Things only got so much worse after you started your first year in high school without Terezi. With more of your friends disappearing with each season, the bullies from middle school smelt blood and began circling you like sharks.

Back then, even when no one else from your old friend group could hang out with you, Terezi was always there to act as a repellent against them. But with her gone, you were suddenly left all alone during lunch breaks which was when they usually bothered you.

Eridan and Feferi were almost unrecognizable as they continued cruising with the “untouchable” crowd, though Feferi still attempted to check in now and again. But those occasions are too few and far in between.

Vriska had only further entangled herself with the delinquents without Terezi as her conscience. Tavros had been caught between a rock and a hard place as he flitted about between two unhealthy social groups. One being Vriska’s and the other being Gamzee’s.

And speaking of Gamzee… He hadn’t gotten any better since junior high. From what you knew, his home life was still a mess and you felt bad for him because you knew school was his only escape at that point.

Even Aradia and Sollux were MIA. After their messy break up last summer, Aradia just hadn’t been the same since. She had avoided all of you at all costs, while Sollux moved on quickly, dating Feferi at the start of the school year in autumn.

Then there was Nepeta and Equius. They hung out with you whenever they could, but both of their extracurricular sports tended to keep them busy. Even Kanaya, who’s the only stable friend you could depend on, couldn’t always be by your side. She had the responsibility of being a part of the student committee to keep her busy.

Your old friend group was practically non-existent at that point.

“Are all high schools like the one you’re currently attending?” He queried after you finished your long-winded, angry rant on the matter.

“Probably.” You hugged your knees closer to your chest. It was a fair day, with the sounds of the woodlands being alive filling your ears. You felt bad spoiling it by dumping your shitty baggage all over the place. “I think everyone has mutually agreed that being at this stage of life is complete shit so some have made it their mission to make it even worse for others just so they could feel better about themselves.”

He made a humming sound to indicate to you that he was listening. “Well, have you thought about talking about it with others? Your parents perhaps?”

“Hell fucking no!” You exclaimed, shaking your head vigorously. “What the fuck would that accomplish anyway? It’s not like they would be willing to uproot our entire lives and move somewhere new just because I think my high school is about as pleasant as a cow thinks a slaughterhouse is pleasant.”

Only when you stopped shaking your head wildly did he put his hands back in your hair so he could continue braiding it. The way his fingers felt on your head instantly made you feel more relaxed. “They might.”

“They won’t,” you told him firmly, stubbornly.

“You won’t know until you ask.”

You hated the fact that he was right on that one. But there are more reasons why you didn’t want to tell your parents. Lately… They haven’t exactly been getting along. You  haven’t been getting along with them. When you were a kid, it’s easy to believe that everything about your life is perfect and that your parents also have a perfect relationship. But part of growing up is realizing all the imperfections they tried to cover up. You were kinda in that stage of life and with so many things already going wrong at school, you really would rather ignore the ones going wrong at home.

“I won’t see you again if I do,” you settled on saying after a while.

“You’ll have the rest of your life,” he responded with the kind of certainty you wished you had.

You allowed yourself to think about it for a moment. But you hated the way your chest constricted, the suffocating feeling of drowning, at the thought of never seeing him again. Never hearing him again. Never touching him again. He was the only constant thing in your life left. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing that too.

The two of you lapsed into silence. His words from the summer Terezi left echoed in your mind.

It’s important for you to always have someone else that isn’t me.

Suddenly, you became very aware of his presence behind you. The faint smell of lavender and cherry blossoms in the air, surrounding you like a comfortable bubble. Suddenly, you became very aware of his hands in your hair, weaving each curl and brushing gently against your skin.

Soon enough, he finally finished. "It's done," He said, handing you a mirror made of twine and silver.

When you looked into it, you were surprised at the reflection that looked back at you. He weaved little locks of white baby’s breath into the pleats he made in your hair, and when you turned the mirror at an angle, you realized he did it all around your head, creating a crown of flowers.

Your heart sped up, and your mouth went dry.

“What do you think?” He inquired, expectation lacing his voice. You wondered then if he knew what he had just done.

You held the handle of the mirror a little tighter to hide the slight tremble in your fingers. The wood felt like real bark, almost alive. “Dave.”

“Yes?”

“If…” You started, your words faltering for a moment. You put the mirror down, away from your face, because you hated the wide-eyed, flushed expression you had. “If I asked, would you take me away?”

The forest seemed to come to a total standstill as the pleasant breeze in the air suddenly stopped and all the noisy insects went silent. The quiet served only to accentuate the blood rushing to your ears and the loud drumming of your heartbeat.

When he finally answered, it was like his voice echoed all around you. “You shouldn’t.”

You forced yourself to turn around and you immediately regretted it when you saw his expression. Gone was the warmth he radiated, the fondness in his eyes, the welcoming posture in which he carried himself with when he was with you.

Instead, his posture was still and his features were sharp and closed off. He reminded you of a great wall made of glaciers- ancient, beautiful, and so very cold.

“Why not?!” Still, you fought to reach him.

“Because,” his words were simple, curt. No trickery, no riddles.

He stood up and you felt the gap widening. You stood up as well. “Because- because what? You’re dangerous? Is that it? Do you really think I'd believe that? After all this gogdamn time?"

"Yes," he said firmly, turning to leave. You followed after him like a child trying to follow the rushing river.

"But why?!"

“Because I said so.”

“Because you said what?!” You pressed further and grabbed his arm.

All at once, you came to a stop when he turned to face you again. It felt like reaching the end of a river only to come face to face with a roaring waterfall, the temptation to jump whispering in your ear when you looked down at the frothing mouth of a goliath beneath you.

“Because I would.”

There it was. The truth. The story he told you when you were younger came to mind. The story about two travellers, an ape kingdom, and the truth of which they could not accept. The truth that hurt to accept. The dangerous truth that would have been better left unsaid.

There was a wildness in his eyes, the kind that reminded you of earthquakes, and hurricanes, and tempests. His attention on you felt every bit as terrifying as being caught out in the middle of a storm.

But then, something else caught his eye. And when you turned your head to follow his gaze, you found him staring at the barn owl poking its head up from its underground nest at the base of a tree.

He quickly moved past you towards it, kneeling to greet the bird with an outstretched hand. The sun was setting behind you, bathing everything in vivid orange.

You approached him but stood a few steps behind him.

“She’s dying,” he whispered quietly. “He says that she’s dying. She won’t survive long enough to see her hatchlings in the morning.”

“Will he stay?”

“He will.”

A beat of silence.

“Will you?”

He didn’t answer you.

“Is that how you see us?” You inquired, accusation in your tone. “Our fleeting mortality always leaving you behind, the immortal trapped in the past. Trapped in time.”

“I’m old enough to be your god, Karkat. Old enough to be part of your myths, your religions.”

“And no matter how old we get, we’ll always be a minuscule drop in your ocean. We must look like ants to you,” you retorted. “So why does it matter?”

He stood up, a slouch you’ve never seen on his shoulders. “It matters because,” he paused, finally turning to face you once more, “even if I were to become your everything, you can’t become mine.”

Your words get caught in your throat, coming out desperate and mangled. “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

Jump.

It whispered.

Instead, you turned and ran, ripping the flowers he’d weaved in your hair and leaving a trail of baby’s breath in your wake.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring was a rainy season. But despite that, it was still unusual to see it pouring almost every day after your last encounter with him.

Summer wasn’t that much better. On the first full moon of the season, you came to the grove with a black umbrella to keep you dry as the storm showered everything around you in misery. 

You stayed in the wet and damp forest throughout the day, waiting patiently. Even when the sunset and the storm showed no signs of stopping, you stayed.

He never showed up.

Autumn came and for the first time, you missed the day of the first full moon. You’ve done it for almost a decade then, and it was weird for you to miss it. But you felt bitter and angry. If he didn’t want to see you- then you didn’t want to see him either.

You tried not to think about it. But the more you tried not thinking about it, the more it reared its ugly head in, like some vicious plague you couldn’t escape. Like some rash from an allergy you couldn’t get rid of. Like an invasive species you wish would just poof out of existence one day, solving all of your problems.

Autumn passed and winter came.

Things only got worse.

Fights at home only got worse. With nothing else to occupy your mind, nothing to tide yourself over until each season passed, you got into bigger, uglier arguments with your parents. Arguments about your performance at school. About your habit of shutting yourself in to keep everyone else out. About why you won’t talk to them unless they forced your hand.

Until-

Your parents started talking about a divorce. Problem after problem after problem. Your dad getting laid off due to budget cuts at his job. Your mother working overtime at the hospital. Money being tight and hard to come by. Their arguments about you, and what to do with you, and whose fault it was you turned out the way you did, and differing opinions on how to help you.

Problem after problem after problem. Disaster after disaster after disaster. It was like life has a grudge against you, each incident proving something about your unworthiness to feel happiness. The small inconveniences of life began to feel like a testament to it.

You spent more nights staring at your ceiling than you have before.

Your grades started slipping even more drastically than before.

High school was even more of a hellscape for you than before.

On one insomnia-filled night, you decided to sneak out of the house after you saw the full moon peeking in from your bedroom window.

You picked up a wool coat on your way out, along with a flashlight and your compass. You didn’t bother to change out of your pyjamas, nor did you bother to change out of your slippers.

When you stepped outside, the biting chill that hit you was a welcome change from the growing numbness you felt with each passing day. Snowflakes fell steadily from the sky, and though it looked pretty against the night, you did not have the capacity to enjoy them.

With your flashlight and compass both opened, you trekked into the night once more. You tried focusing your mind on your destination, but the compass wasn’t cooperating. All it did was slowly go around in circles in its axis, not reacting to you like it used to.

Back to wherever your heart desires.

Your stomach bottomed out as the words came back to you.

If you’re ever lost again, this will always lead you back home.

Back to wherever your heart desires.

The compass continued to spin sluggishly around its diameter.

On the first full moon of every season.

Anger began to boil and overflow within you as you stared at the compass.

I give you my word, Karkat.

It ate away inside you as sharp as the winter winds that blew past your face, and before you knew it, you were yelling into the woods in frustration and throwing the damned thing into its dark depths. Just so long as you got it away from you. Away from your cold hands which it only made colder.

Tears spilled from you before you could stop them, the sharp anger turning into a dull aching inside your chest that spread outwards. The aching of grief and loss. Yet another loss. Always loss.

You kept losing. Experiences. Time. People. Life. All you ever did was lose.

And you were tired of it.

“You promised me!” You screamed into the woods. “You said you wouldn’t leave me!”

You channelled all of that ache back into anger because anger had always been better than this. Better than sorrow. Better than tears. Better than aching. And so, you cursed at the moon that shone down on you. You cursed at the wind that cut you. You cursed at the forest that isolated you.

But anger was also tiring, and you were more than tired of being angry at the world. The world never cared- screaming and arguing never helped you one bit.

“You said you cared …” Your legs gave out and you let yourself crumple into a heap on the snow-covered floor. “You said…”

Your hands curled around the snow, trying to grasp at something that will anchor you in the blizzard of winter. Something that will harbour you.

But all you got was melting ice dripping through your fingers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring came, but he never did. And with it came the marker of your first year without him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your foot stomped heavily against the pavement as you ran as fast as you could. Street signs and house blocks passed by in a blur as you ran for your life. You’ve long since given up on stopping to fix the hole in your backpack as leaflets of paper and school supplies fell through, leaving behind a trail of them behind you.

The only thing you could focus on was your feet as you forced them to keep moving one in front of the other, despite the painful protest of your lungs. If you let your mind wander even a little bit, you were as good as dead.

“Oi, bug boy!” A mocking voice hollered, too close for your liking. “You’re leaving behind all of your school supplies for bug school!”

“Or maybe they’re for a shitty live-action remake of the Antz movie!” Another voice suggested, and they all guffawed as if it was the smartest joke they’ve ever heard. With their sense of humour, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

Their taunts only served to fuel you further, pure adrenaline and fear pushing you forwards in a burst of speed.

You weren’t even sure where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stop. You already knew the consequences of that. You didn’t want to go through that again. Especially when a lot of the bruises they gave you still haven’t completely healed over yet. You didn’t want to add more on top of them.

But you knew even fear couldn’t keep you running forever. It couldn’t soothe the aching of your lower jaw from struggling to catch your breath, couldn’t give you more oxygen to breathe for your burning lungs, couldn’t stop the shock of pain that shoots up your foot every time it hits the pavement.

You were going to lose. Eventually, you were going to lose. You always do.

Tears pricked your eyes. But despite trying to fight it because it’ll only blur your vision, it still fell.

You hated this. You hated your life. You hated your bullies, your school, your fake friends, your home life, your mom, your dad. You hated this world.

Without even thinking about it, you made a sharp turn and headed for the woodlands. You weren’t even sure what you intended to do, all you had in mind was the thought of escape. Escape where? You had no idea. You didn’t care either.

Just anywhere but right then at that moment.

You heard the loud whooping of the bullies behind you, voices echoing around the forest. “Trying to get a home advantage on us, Vantas?!” They called out, continuing their relentless pursuit of you.

“It won’t work, bug boy! We’re gonna fuckin’ get you and crush you like the bugs you like so much!” 

You didn’t dare look back. You focused on dodging, jumping, and side-stepping the obstacles in your path. Focused weaving your way around trees without your clothes getting caught on a stray branch. Focused on moving and not collapsing on the ground despite exhaustion already slowing your movements.

The forest was vibrant, beautiful, under the May sun. But it was disturbed by the vicious, out of place laughter of your pursuers. Pursuers who were very close to catching their prey.

Your foot got caught on a small pebble and you stumbled. The stumble should have been something you could have recovered from. But with your exhaustion-leaden legs, you easily lost your balance and crashed to the ground hands first, skinning them against the coarse dirt as they took the brunt of your fall.

You immediately curled into a tight ball, waiting for the flurry of violence that was sure to come raining down soon.

But it never did.

It took you a moment to register that the noises they were making were no longer light-hearted whooping and cheering. It took you a moment because their laughter and shouting were almost indiscernible from their sounds of pain and alarm.

When you peeked out from your arms that covered your face in a feeble defence, you found the boys who gave you chase being tormented by nature itself. One was being dragged away by his ankles by the roots of trees peeking out of the soil. Another was being pecked relentlessly by a variety of birds. Two were chased away by a truly terrifying swarm of bees. Yet another was being strangled a few feet off the ground by tree branches.

You felt him before you saw him. The scent of blooming flowers and dewy grass in the air. The soft breeze that blew past, making the oncoming heat of the summer just that bit more bearable. The calmness he instills within you, no matter the time, day, temperature, weather, or season.

Then, as soon as he arrived, nature seemed to behave itself, freeing the boys from its torture.

They immediately turned tail and ran without a second thought. If they were dogs (and you’re not convinced they aren’t) you think they would have had their tails in between their legs as they ran like cowards.

Your feeling of relief and triumph is short-lived though. Because soon, it was replaced with white-hot anger at him.

“Is that what you fucking do?! Just show up when it’s most fucking convenient to you?! Is that fucking it?!” You demanded immediately after you turned around to face him. You stayed on the ground, knowing better than to test your legs on its ability to hold up your weight after the truly astounding amount of running you just did. 

He doesn’t look at you for a long while, crimson eyes watching where your pursuers just were. Tears continued to flow from your eyes as your chest was filled to the brim with so many things you wanted to scream at him for.

But when he finally turned his eyes on you, you found all of it dying at the tip of your tongue.

In a flash too quick for your eyes to register, you were suddenly being held tightly in his arms. He held you like if he ever let go of you, you’d suddenly vanish from his fingertips.

You wanted to stay mad at him. You wanted to push him away, yell at him to leave you alone, as he has done before. But all you could do was bury your face into the soft silk of his cravat and bawl your eyes out. The terror of before, and the terror of everything you’ve had to deal with, finally caught up with you and made you cry harder than you ever let yourself before.

You wanted to hate him. But you couldn’t. All you wanted was to be comforted and held like you haven’t been since you got lost in the forest that summer day. Since you told him about Terezi moving.

All you wanted was a reprieve from every terrible thing that has happened to you since you grew up. A reprieve from anger, from anguish, from exhaustion. From the cruel youth of your own making.

You cried.

And he held you.

He held you until the sun began to dip in the horizon.

He held you until the sky was a blazing red and yellow.

He held you until you stopped crying.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that. All you were aware of was the quiet blowing of the wind and the rustling of leaves that danced as it passed by. It was peaceful, despite your sniffling now and again.

“I’m sorry.”

It took you a moment to register that he was talking to you. It took you even longer to register what he said. When you lifted your head from the crook of his neck, you found him refusing to meet your eye, a stormy and conflicted look on his usually neutral veneer.

“What?” Your voice was even more harsh and strained than usual after all of the sobbing you couldn’t contain.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated after a second, the act of lifting his eyes to meet yours seeming to take a great deal of effort.

“What for?” You wanted to hear him say it. You wanted him to admit it.

“For running away,” he muttered. “For being a coward.”

“You made a promise,” you said, eyebrows coming together to form a frown once again. “Isn’t your word binding?”

“And I told you not to trust what I said,” he retorted, all matter-of-factly. “I did give you my word, but you weren’t precise enough on the parameters of our deal. I said I would only greet you in daylight, but if it wasn’t, I had no obligation to. On rainy days I did meet you, it was done of my own volition.”

That only made you frown deeper. “And the first part of our deal? What about the whole goddamn ‘seeing you only once every season, on the night of the first full moon’?”

“I said you could only seek me on those days. I never said I couldn’t seek you on any other day,” he answered, and seeing your anger slowly rising from the dead in your face, he smiled, eyes softening. “I’m sorry for tricking you. It may be second nature to me, but that doesn’t mean I should have done it for my own comfort.”

God fucking damn it. This irritable, discordant shitstain had you fucking fooled on a godawful technicality. What a grade-A bastard.

“I hate you,” you muttered, tone thick with an emotion you refused to restart. You tore your gaze away from him to watch your fingers fiddle with the hem of your ratty hoodie.

“No, you don’t,” he told you playfully, that teasing tone you’ve come to know well.

“Yes, I fucking do.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“Really really really?”

“Really really really.”

“Is that so? You’re not lying?”

Of course, you were.

It’s the only lie you’ve consistently told him. The one lie you’ve consistently told yourself.

“Karkat.”

Your name in his voice had you snapping your head back to him in attention. You immediately flush when you realize it’s the exact reaction he was anticipating, a shit-eating smirk on his face. “Ask me,” he said.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me.”

Something gets caught in your throat at what he was insinuating. Suddenly, it felt like it was just the two of you that existed in the whole world. Just the two of you, in the forest, with the setting sun, and the buzzing bees, and the chirping birds.

When you spoke, you spoke like you were telling a secret. Shy, vulnerable, and fragile. Too fragile. “Will you take me away?”

When he kissed you, it was like everything came back to life again. It was like the grass stood up a little straighter, and the flowers bloomed just a little wider. It was like the world was a little brighter, the colours a little more vivid. When he kissed you, it was like being kissed by the sun itself on a warm summer’s day by the beach.

And you kissed him back.

It was both everything and nothing like you expected it to be. He smelt of spring flowers and fall leaves. Of summer’s day and winter’s snow. Touch petal-soft, taste nectar sweet, voice honey smooth. And when he laid you down into the sun-dappled grass, you didn’t feel a twig or stone underneath you. Even if there were, your mind was too hazy at the time to care enough to stop.

You should have ached in places where bruises and cuts from previous fights were, but they all seemed to have magically disappeared wherever his hands roamed. Instead, all you felt was the cloying heat where your skin met his, a different kind of ache in the pit of your gut with every minuscule move he made.

Every push and every pull was like the ebb and flow of the tides. Every sigh and every breath was like coming up for air, only to get dragged down under the waves to drown again, and again, and again. He treated you with reverent care, kissed you with kindness, and whispered your name like a mantra in your ear.

You were less graceful in your movements, his name stumbling awkwardly in short gasps from your lips. But you didn’t care- not when he looked at you the way he did. Not when he said your name like that. Not when he touched you like you’re the only one that mattered.

Nothing else mattered but him and the sickeningly sweet ambrosia taste he left on your tongue.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He was warm under your touch as he told you all about the stars that peaked out from the behind the trees. You could feel the rumble of his voice from how you’ve positioned yourself under the crook of his neck, solid, soothing, and calming.

The summer night’s breeze was cool, but just being near him seemed to turn them balmy and comfortable. He radiated warmth like a particularly huggable space heater. His doublet covering your bare skin also helped in keeping you in a state of comfort. Not too cold, and not too hot.

Insects buzzed and chirred all around you, but none of them ever disturbed the two of you as you stared up at the sky. You watched his slim fingers connect dots between the sky, enjoying the tone of his voice as he told you the names and stories behind them.

You’re not sure just how long you spent with him like that. But at some point, when he finished the story about The Pleiades being turned to stars after being chased by Orion for seven years, you asked him a question that has been burning at the tip of your tongue ever since the idea of being stolen away came to your mind.

“What’s it like in Faerie?”

He was quiet for a long time, so long you didn’t expect him to answer you. But he did. “It’s very pretty in Faerie,” he told you, fondness colouring his tone. “It’s divided into two courts, the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts, and those are also divided into two. The one I’m from is the Unseelie Autumn Court, while two of my other siblings belong to the Unseelie Winter Court. The seasons never change there, and every tree is always coloured in fiery shades.”

“What are the other fae like in Faerie?”

He hummed quietly in thought before giving you an answer. “They’re dangerous. They may look pretty, the prettiest people you’ll ever lay your eyes on in fact, but they’re cruel. Most fae in the Unseelie Courts are, and even those in the Seelie Courts shouldn’t be trusted either.”

“What about you?” You asked, craning your head to get a look at his face. He was so much prettier up close, and you only noticed then that his pointed ears were lightly furred, like a hare’s. Staring at him always did make your heart beat faster than it should.

“I could be cruel too,” he said it so quietly that even though you were this close to him, you could have lost his words to the wind if you weren’t paying attention.

“You are.” You nodded your head as you nuzzled closer to him. His hand around your waist tightened.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you mumbled in response. “I could be cruel too.”

His chuckle reverberated through his chest, where you’re resting a hand overtop it. “You could be,” he finally said, but his tone was clearly teasing. You bumped your head against his chin softly in protest.

He didn’t say anything more after that and you were simply content sleeping the night away in the position you were both in. But just before sleep claimed you, he spoke. “Ask me again when you’re sure.”

“Mm?” You hummed in recognition. “When I’m sure what?”

“You’re close to graduating, correct?”

That got you feeling wide-awake all of a sudden. “Yeah. Why?”

He was quiet for a while again before sighing. “Graduate. Live your life, Karkat. Go see a bit more of your world. And if you decide you still wish to leave, ask me again.”

You frowned. “Why can’t you take me now?”

“I want you to be sure,” he replied seriously. “I want you to choose not because you felt like it, not because you want to leave, not because you want to escape. Not because of  me. I want you to choose because you want to. Because if you do, you’re leaving humanity in every sense, and I want you to be sure.”

You thought about it for a moment. “Promise me. With no loopholes or technicalities. Promise me the next time I see you again, you’ll take me away somewhere far from here. Promise me you’ll take me with you to Faerieland.”

A beat of hesitation. “Only when you’ve seriously thought about it.”

“I will,” you replied without hesitation.

You felt him shift under you and you followed his movements until the both of you were sitting up, facing at each other properly. Without his arms around you, you immediately felt just how cold it was and tugged his red velvet doublet tighter around your shoulders.

He had a serious expression on, cat-like eyes searching your face for some kind of deception of your own. “You’re asking me to trust you.”

“I trusted you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“I still do,” was your muttered response. His eyes softened at that. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I probably shouldn’t.”

You smiled. “Probably.”

He leaned over to place a feather-light peck you didn’t expect. Before you could react, he said steadfastly, “I give you my word.”

You smiled wider when he then beckoned you back in his arms to fall asleep under the starry night sky.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When morning came, it was just you on the forest floor, fully clothed in yesterday’s clothes. In your half-awake stupor, you wondered if you had just dreamt everything up. That none of yesterday’s events ever happened.

Everything around you suggested that was the case. The birds still sang. The flowers still bloomed. The trees still swayed. But there was no evidence of him ever being with you throughout the night. No red velvet doublet, no gold-accented leather shoes, no faint perfume of wildflowers and cedar oak.

The bitter taste of wood sap on your tongue and the compass in your jean’s pocket was the only evidence he was ever there.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You turned eighteen and graduated that summer. The bullies never stopped picking on you, but they did stop their relentless chase of you after school just so they could beat you up.

That last brief stretch of your high school was the most at peace you’ve ever felt.

You moved out late autumn after getting a stable job at a local bookstore you’ve always frequented. The owner was a nice old lady who had a good taste in books.

Your parents divorced shortly after, at the start of winter.

You thought about applying for college- you did a lot of research as soon as you got your diploma. It’s something you probably should have done before you graduated, but you weren’t even considering it for reasons already known. You considered applying to one in the city, with a major in literature. And you did.

It was an institution on the smaller side because it’s what your parents could afford for you, but it was nice. You met people you could consider friends. You even managed to reconnect with a few old friends. Sollux, Aradia, Nepeta, and Kanaya. They were nice. You went out with them sometimes. At parties, cafes, theatres, parks, and libraries.

Seasons passed. The trees continued their cycle of life, death, and revival. Life moved on. You moved on.

Before you knew it, months turned to years. Each passing season marked the passage of yet another year. Another year without magic, another year without him. 

One turned into two. Two turned into three. And three turned into four. Not marking each passing season got easier every year.

You got busy. You did stuff. You stopped losing things. Experiences. Time. People. Life. You were seeing a bit more of the world.

You started dating Nepeta, who finally confessed after having liked you ever since you were kids. You advised Sollux, who was trying to rekindle his flame with Aradia. You supported Kanaya in her budding fashion career.

You even sat down and talked with your parents to reconnect with them again. You’ll treasure the memory of your mother and father trying to keep it together before utterly failing and crying in front of you because you told them you forgave them. Because you don’t fault them for how things turned out.

It was summer and you were twenty-three when you graduated with a degree in literature. The owner of the book shop promoted you to a managerial position with a hefty raise as a graduation gift. She even joked that she might leave the shop to you when she inevitably gets sent to an elder home because none of her kids have any interest in keeping the business open when she gets too old to do the job.

She has a semi-fatalistic sense of humour. You’ve always liked her.

You and Nepeta planned to visit each of your parents to introduce her to them after your twenty-third birthday. You’ve been dating for almost a year and the two of you planned to move in together sometime in the autumn.

Everything was fine. You had a steady job, a steady girlfriend, and plans for the future. Everything was fine.

But as you watched the woods from your bedroom window in your old house, now your father’s, you felt something familiar stir inside you. The sway of the leaves, the music they made when a breeze floated past. The insects that buzzed by, the birds that danced in the sky. The smell of wildflowers and cedar oak.

You were reaching for your compass before you even thought about it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It has been years since you last opened the compass. You remember it was almost spotless the last time you held it in your hand. You suspect that it’s enchanted to restore itself over time if the person who owns it treated it with care.

But you haven’t done that in years.

After graduation, you left the compass inside your old cabinet beside your bed. You thought a lot about what he said that night, and because he said he trusted you, you thought about it seriously. You visited every friend you ever had before you lost them, reconnected with the people that were important to you, to determine just how you’d feel leaving it all behind.

Seeing everything you’re leaving behind with your own eyes made the ideas more tangible. So, you left your compass by your bedside, intending to give life another shot instead of running away just because he offered it to you.

And you did. You lived. You went to college, made memories.

But something about seeing your old forest backyard beckoned you.

So, here you are now, clutching the worn, rusted compass in your hand, following its needle-like you have a dozen times before. As you navigate the woods, your body moved in recognition of old patterns you barely remember from childhood. It’s like picking up a bike and still knowing how to use it even after years have passed. 

You didn’t dare to think about him when you moved out. The separation from your old meeting grounds helped keep thoughts of him away. It also helped to keep your feelings about him at bay.

But seeing the familiar surroundings of the woods forced everything back to the surface. It makes you chuckle now, thinking back on how you got lost in these woods and how everything looked scary and unfamiliar then. Now, you could walk these barely defined dirt paths with ease even after years of not traversing it regularly.

The compass in your hand continues to lead you. When you first popped it open at the edge of the woods, you half expected it to lead you back to your house where Nepeta is currently cooking lunch with your dad.

But it didn’t. And it all but confirmed the thoughts that were always in the back of your head.

You gave life a shot. You got back on your feet, you got your shit together, and you followed the expected path of life. It was nice. Good, even. And maybe it could have been even better if you decided to settle down in this old sleepy town with Nepeta and raised a family of your own.

You could have. It might have been nice.

But you know it’s not what you want.

It’s selfish. You know it is. Mending things in your life, reconnecting with people you previously lost touch with and making new, meaningful connections.

Only to disappear on them without a trace.

It’s cruel.

But maybe it only makes you more deserving of going where he has warned you not to go.

So, you follow the compass. You follow the compass to where it thinks home is. You follow the compass to where your heart longs to be. Where it has always longed to be. No matter the time or the day. No matter the weather or the season.

And it does.

Dave sits around a ring of toadstool mushrooms in the old groove you always used to meet, colourful birds and insects all vying for his attention. He wears a deep mahogany red doublet, with colourful, hand-stitched autumn leaves falling down the torso, giving it an almost ombre effect. His hair glows white where the late summer sun hits him through the canopy of leaves above, creating a pretty dappling effect across his serene features.

You didn’t know you were holding your breath until he finally notices you.

When his face breaks out into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen on him, you release a sigh of relief. Somewhere in your gut, you were dreading not finding anything back here. Dreading the evidence that may prove he really was a figment of your imagination. Years spent away from him almost made you believe it. You may have if you stayed away long enough.

But he’s real. As real as the balmy heat of the sun above, as real as the music nature sings when it’s left alone, and as real as the ground where grass and mushrooms and flowers grow.

You approach him.

“You thought about it.”

“I did.” You nod.

Only when you finally sit across from him does he reach out to touch you. “You grew up,” he stated simply, twirling a lock of your black curly hair around a long slender finger. Even the smallest action has got your heart already beating twice the speed it should.

“You didn’t,” you replied quietly, only half teasing.

He still looks the same, with no sign of the past twenty-three years on his face. Chiselled features full of sharp angles. The kind of beauty no mortal could touch, much less attain themselves. You would know, you still remember touching every part of it and proving it’s reality.

“I missed you.” It was barely above a whisper. But his words burned in the pit of your gut, opening a pandora of emotions you kept locked up, at his openly honest admission. No trickery. No riddles.

You missed him too. More than you expected. More than you imagined. You didn’t think you’d ever be back here, but here you are now, and all you want to do is get reacquainted with every part of him again. It’s an urge so strong, you forget to breathe for a moment with how hard it hits you.

“How long have you been waiting?” You decide to ask instead.

There’s a wistfulness to his expression. “Ever since you left.”

Your chest tightens and your breath gets knocked out of you at his gentle response.

“I’m here now,” you tell him, as if in assurance.

“You’re here now,” he confirmed, hand falling to take yours into his. His touch is warm, comforting, and familiar. You move to intertwine your fingers together, stomach doing twists when you find your hand finally fits his perfectly. His no longer dwarfed yours like it had when you were younger.

When you look up at him, you find him gazing at you with the kind of admiration you used to look at him with.

“Are…” He starts, before seeming to duck his head in bashfulness. You stare at him in wonder, never knowing he was even capable of being shy. “Are you here to stay?”

You don’t even have to think about your response. “Yes.”

With his other free hand, he reached out to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “Ask me,” he says softly and your heart skips a beat.

You close your eyes, savouring the warm glow of the sunlight on your skin, the whistling of the wind in the air, the chorus of nature being alive all around you. You remember your memories of him, your memories of your life, your childhood and your growth.

Everything you’re leaving behind.

And everything yet in store for you if you ask him.

When you open your eyes, you’re sure about your decision. More sure than anything you’ve ever been in your life.

“Take me home with you."