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Jasper’s ability had felt like a curse when he was younger. He felt things too much, his grandmother said. He cried when he was left alone (Skies knows he still hated to be alone) he cried when he was held by sad people (there were many of those in Crimson) he cried when anybody spoke to his grandmother (he still remembered the sour, sharp taste of fear rolling off of them). Too vulnerable, his grandmother always said.
It felt far from a curse now.
Being around these many young fairies watching their dreams come true was so beautiful it almost made tears roll down his cheeks. The excitement in the crowd around him was palpable, pulsing through him in tune with his own. His wings jittered with excitement and he tried hard to stay still. Being the only Crimson fairy in his graduating class he must admit came with its challenges, one of them being he had a significantly larger wingspan. He would be so embarrassed if he ruined this moment by smacking his Blue fairy classmates in the face.
The Blue fairy onstage that introduced himself as Serge was giving them a resounding speech, looking like he had done this a hundred times before. And he probably had. He was Bejeweled’s right-hand-man after all, and Jasper gave a little wiggle of excitement at the thought that he might one day get to meet her himself.
He had dreamed of this moment. He was finally out. He had finally made it. He wanted to cry.
Serge finished his speech, surveying the crowd before him. “And of course, as we like to say at the Slipper: best wishes to you -”
“In making wishes come true!” Jasper exclaimed along with the roaring crowd, and oh, he was crying before he even realized. He stood up, so jubilated by the crowd and himself, and gave Serge the biggest round of applause he could muster.
Serge smiled placidly, eyes fixed on Jasper for just a moment, and Jasper got a flash of cool apathy that shook him only slightly, like being flecked with ice cold water when you’re in a hot tub. He was confused for only a split second before the reality of everything came crashing upon him again, and he was swept away in enthusiasm once more.
“And now,” Serge said once the din had quieted, “in accordance with Academy tradition, the fairy whom I will take as my apprentice will be decided by lottery.”
Jasper sat back down, mind buzzing as Serge effortlessly flicked blue dust into the air to commence with the lottery. Where would he be assigned first after this? He hoped it was with someone young – he loved working with the little ones. He hoped whoever got their name chosen had an amazing journey ahead of them –
He blinked at the sight of his name hovering above the stage, uncomprehending for a moment. He stood again, immune to the sprinklings of disappointment from the crowd around him, completely and wholly overwhelmed.
Oh, his stars. Oh his stars, he was going to the Slipper. He was meeting Bejeweled.
He was weeping openly now, and Jasper couldn’t find it in himself to care, not even when he saw Serge looking at him with a hint of disdain on his handsome features.
***
Fairies do not age like humans do. They do grow older and wiser, but their bodies do not decay. They can become slower, more tired, but their brains do not atrophy. That’s why Jasper knew it was a rehtorical question, rather than one borne of forgetfulness, when Serge asked him, “How long have we known each other now, Jasper?”
They sat side by side on the grass in the blue fairie glade, under the whispy branches of a Blue willow. Jasper hadn’t gotten the chance to visit a fairie glade before he met Serge, as there were none in Crimson, and it was breath-takingly beautiful. Jasper wiped tears from his face before turning to look Serge in his eyes. He tried to speak, but he was too caught up in Serge’s feelings – sadness, peace, a bone-deep weariness.
“It feels like centuries.” Serge continued, reaching out with a pale hand to brush his fingers over Jasper’s cheek. Jasper trembled and more tears welled up and feel, the bluegrass decaying wherever they splashed, a testament to his pain. “And yet I still wish I had met you sooner. I know that’s impossible and silly.”
He shook his head. “N-not silly.” He tried so hard not to cry, he really did. He told himself for years now that he would not cry, not at their last moments; he would try to make it painless, bittersweet, let them reminisce over their lives together.
But Jasper had always been weak.
Serge frowned the exact same frown he had expressed years and years ago at the Silpper when he had picked up a pair of shoes and shook his head, disappointed. The kind of frown that said “now that will not do.” He scooted closer to Jasper, slowly, like it pained him to move any faster. Serge rested his forehead against Jasper’s, staring into his eyes hungrily, like he had never seen them before. “So beautiful.” Jasper recieved a whisper of thought. “So beautiful.”
He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. He held Serge’s head with trembling fingers, grabbing on like he was water slipping through his grasp.
They had already said everything they could say. For days leading up to this moment they talked about it over and over with and without words, and there was nothing left to say.
Then Serge smiled softly, already looking lost and so, so tired. “Picking you as my apprentice was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.”
Jasper shook his head, beyond tears, beyond feelings, beyond speech.
“The world still needs you, Jasper. Like I needed you.”
“I need you, too,” He choked. “I need you.”
Serge closed his eyes, but Jasper could still feel him. He could always feel him, stronger than anyone else. I wish I could stay, I have no choice, he will be fine, he’s replendescent.
“You have to leave soon,” Serge whispered dully. “I’ll start to fade any second now.”
“No!” Jasper said hotly, holding him ever closer. “I want to stay with you.”
“I don’t want you to see.” Serge said lowly. “And I think...I need to be alone. For this.”
Or else I won’t want to leave.
They had said everything they could say. Jasper held him for a moment longer, just one moment, and let himself cry. He didn’t have to worry about being weak around Serge. Serge would never judge him for it.
Jasper then got to his feet. Looked down at Serge sitting in the grass, slumped and tired, who was watching him with those blue eyes. His best friend, his idol, his match.
And he did one of the hardest things he had ever done. Jasper turned and walked away. He walked out of the fairie glade, past the beautiful blue trees and out into the normal world that now seemed not normal at all. He almost giggled when he realized he could still feel Serge, the faint threads of his thoughts drifting after him. Jasper had gotten quite good at reading him over the years, a little too good Serge used to huff.
Jasper sat in the ordinary grass in the ordinary forest and quieted himself and listened to his lover fade, and he was ever so grateful in a way he never truly was before that he had been given this gift, and he couldn’t understand how he had ever felt it was a curse in the first place.