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Paddy had always loved autumn. He loved the crunch that came with each step, watching the leaves slowly falling, and especially watching leaves flow down small creeks which was one of the few things that allowed him to organize his thoughts. So there he sat, thinking about a certain werebear on the edge of a river, watching it carry the crimson and golden leaves along, to wherever the stream went.
The rest of his party were in town, getting whatever they would need for the next few weeks, which included stocking up on first aid supplies. While they would usually get rooms in an inn, that night was going to be a full moon. He thought of the last full moon and the chaos that ensued. Everyone had forgotten to keep track of the moon cycle that afternoon and had only just found out when a storekeeper had mentioned it, minutes before the sun went down. Luckily, though, all that happened was a scrambled race to the forest for Malark, a couple frightened travelers and a lost sandwich stash. Paddy wasn’t sure if Brio fully forgave the werebear yet.
It was late morning, and the party should have been getting back soon. But, Paddock figured he could stay seated for a few more minutes, watching the creek carry the multicolored passengers along. He studied the rocks and pebbles in the small river with the dampened moss on top of each of the larger rocks. The larger rocks eventually gave to larger boulders on each side of the river, which led up two hills, and connecting the two was a small wooden bridge.
He remembered the time when it was just Malark and himself at the camp, the party out either in the town nearby or gathering materials, such as firewood. They had set up camp near a bridge, and Malark and Paddy stood on that bridge, sometimes racing off, quickly gathering pebbles, and run back to the space next to the other. They were playing a game of sorts, apparently from a children’s book series that Malark had read as a child. But, they dropped an item, like a pebble, into the river, and went to the other side of the bridge, and waited to see whose item came out first. Whoever’s came out first, won.
It was one of the few moments Paddy ever had with Malark, between trying to save the world and not getting killed. Paddy, quite frankly, oftentimes didn’t know with the werebear. He doesn’t know much about his past, his aspirations, and how Malark feels towards him. Paddy knew, that Malark must’ve at least considered Paddy a friend by now, or at least a close-acquaintance. Paddy definitely felt like Malark wasn’t a friend, friends weren’t nervous to talk to each other, or trying to impress the other in ridiculous ways, friends didn’t have their hearts speed up while near the other, and friends certainly didn’t have their hearts skip a beat with so much of a graze from the other’s hand.
Paddy was in love. There was no denying it because friends usually didn’t have to question the matter at all. Malark was definitely not anything under a friend to the elf, and he wasn’t exactly a friend, either. So that left only a couple options, and almost none of them were of the platonic variety. He either had a crush, or he was plain in love, and Paddy, for some reason, so dearly wanted it to be love. Not the fleeting phase that was a crush. A real, lasting feeling. He loved Malark. Or, at least, wanted to. But that had to count for something, right?
“I love him,” He tested out the words, and for some reason they didn’t feel foreign on his lips. They felt right at home, meant to be.
“Mmm? Who?” A familiar voice came from behind.
Paddock Whitlaw has never turned faster in his life and has never fought down a blush so valiantly as he did at that moment. His fears were confirmed. There he was, the Dundragon standing there, a couple of bags in his hands, probably from the market, staring down at him.
“Oh! Uh, well, ya’ see,” Paddy fought and struggled to find and string words together. He fought even harder at not blushing, he wasn’t some schoolgirl!
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. The others are still in town, I just came back early, hoping I could get some sleep because I sure as hell won’t get any tonight.” Malark said, setting down his bags, and sitting next to Paddy, “Do you mind if I do it here?”
“No, go right on ahead, it’s fine,” Paddy replied, a bit calmer now.
And so they sat in silence, watching the river. Until Paddy heard light snoring and felt a weight on his shoulder. Malark’s head was surprisingly warm and comforting. Soon, the wood elf found himself getting drowsy, and fought the losing battle to stay awake. It probably didn’t help that the night before he had stayed up all night, reading “Winnie the Pooh." He wanted to see what his friend, or well, whatever he was, read as a child. Maybe it would give some insight into what he was like, all those years ago.
So, eventually Paddy felt himself drifting off, and somehow Malark’s head had traveled to his lap, and Paddy’s hand on his hood. Drifting slowly off to sleep, awaiting the others to get back, but enjoying one of the new moments between each other. Who knew how long it would be before they could experience another like that one. But for now, they were contentedly asleep by a small creek, and Paddy had just placed a name on his feelings toward the assassin. Love.