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He leans over the railing, taking a deep breath of the Irish air. The air is damp; a recent downpour creating the earthy scent. He glances upwards to see that the full moon is in sight, and smirks - he smirks in the familiarity of it all.
While not too fond of nature, tonight, he makes an exception to enjoy the outdoors. Recently, he's found that he can't resist the siren song that is the full moon's pale glow. Perhaps it was the rush of nostalgia that greeted him as he opened the balcony doors, he wonders.
In his hands lies a coin; gold. His fingers toy with it, and the allure of the metal brings a glimmer to his eyes. And if one were to pay close enough attention in the dim light, they would see that his left eye is hazel - a contact lens, nonetheless. However, one cannot be deceived by the all-knowing glimmer behind the lens. He doesn't know why he wears it, though again, he finds some comfort behind it all.
And as he gazes into the moon, he hopes for a visitor.
He waits for hours, though it doesn't look like his visitor will come. As the pink rays of dawn beam across the horizon, he knows it's time to get some rest. He doesn't feel tired - he doesn't feel satisfied, and yet he crawls to bed. One last glance out the window, and he's finally tucked under the covers, snoozing away.
She lands on the railing, toe first. Crouched low, she takes a peek through the window and isn't surprised to see her friend asleep. She wonders if she should leave - she knows she should, so she shakes her head and propels herself away.
She cruises through the sky, a somber look upon her face. She continues her flight.
In his slumber, he dreams of a friend. Her smile reminds him of fond memories, though he can't place exactly where. He sees her fiery hair, backlit by fire - very dramatic, he thinks. Her smirk is starting to resemble his own. They know each other's movements, motivations, flaws like the back of their hand. It's a shame that she was never real, he thinks.
The nostalgia exists, though he can't quite place where it belongs.
As she flies across the countryside, she thinks about a dull, dreary courtroom. Council hearings continue to be yet another item on her most-hated list, and she can't help but shiver at the memory of it all...
"This mud man has known our secrets for too long, and he's caused disaster upon disaster," said the council member, pacing across the courtroom.
"With all the risks he's posed to our civilization, he can't continue with any more knowledge of the fairies! His mind needs to be wiped, and our worlds should remain separate."
As she observes the situation, she realizes that her best friend is all but shocked.
"Well?" She asks. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
He shakes his head. "No. Lope is right. If my meddling with the fairies is what caused Opal's destruction, I should be allowed to fix my wrongdoings, shouldn't I?"
"Shut up, Artemis!"
The councilman's eyes dart towards them, and he raises an eyebrow. "Any objections, Mud Man?" He asks.
She watches her best friend stand up, two blue eyes glimmering with confidence. "None at all. You may perform the mind wipe right after this hearing is adjourned."
"Arty! Don't!" She grabs his sleeve, trying to pull him away from his trance.
"Artemis… You have a plan, don't you? You'll remember us after all this is done, right?"
"You're holding onto a false sense of hope, Major. This is it. This is the end."
Twenty-Eight Days Later
Again, the moon's silver sheen draws him outside. This time, however, the air is drier. He takes in a breath as his eyes drift towards the moon. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees a shimmer. He mistakes it for being sleepy and walks inside, pulling the covers over his head.
He hears the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs, the whirring of the Manor's security cameras. He hasn't been able to sleep very often, and the silvery glow of the moon peeks through the curtains. He groans, tosses and turns, though sleep doesn't come.
And he sees it.
The shimmer flickers by the window, and he blinks his eyes to make sure he's not seeing things. He knows it can't be a heat haze - night time in Ireland is much too cold for that, after all. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he proceeds to walk towards it. The balcony doors crack open once again, the dry breeze flowing in.
But make no mistake, the shimmer is gone.
He recalls the previous month, and remembers wishing for a visitor. He knows it's childish, he knows it's absurd...but he grins a little more before sleeping again.
She flies away, eyes blurry. Her head hurts, her stomach churns, and she knows she can never talk to him again. She sees the façade through the hazel lens; she can tell that he's missing something. Missing someone.
Twenty-Eight Days Later… Again
He knows that he shouldn't let his emotions get the better of him - yet he does. While he would normally brush off rude comments like crumbs off his suit, he didn't know that a mere six-year-old could cause his brain to hurt so much.
He notices the full moon once again, but decides against going out. It's better to wallow in self pity for a few days, he thinks, remembering the day's earlier encounter.
"Why should we trust you, Artemis? Mom said you lied to her all the time," says the child, accusingly.
He knows that his brother didn't mean any harm - children were always the most honest, after all. He couldn't help but remember staring at the blond curls, looking anywhere but the boy's eyes. And for the fourth time in his life, he can't think of what to say.
He gazes out the window, deep in thought. He feels something clawing at his insides, and the feeling is all too familiar. The dread, the regret, it stirs within him. He knows that his mother wasn't the only person he ever lied to, and it hurts not remembering who it was.
He wants to apologize. Making amends is the first step to get rid of the guilt, he thinks.
And for the first time since he was six, he walks down the silent corridors to his parent's room. He knows his father is away at a business conference in Spain, so he cracks open the door. His mother is reading another one of those ridiculous gossip magazines, but he ignores it for now.
"Arty, dear, what's wrong? You look so flushed," she says. She invites him to sit, but he can't help but remember the little mantra that he repeated as a child:
Step on a vine, count to nine. He smirks.
After weaving his way through the carpet, he sits himself down, looking at his mother with mismatched eyes.
"I'm sorry, mother."
"What for, darling?"
His shoulders slump just a little bit. "I apologize for always keeping things from you. It was never my intention to hurt you in the past."
"We've been over this," she says, and smiles. "I forgave you a long time ago, Arty. I am your mother, after all."
She forgave me, he thinks. He knows it wasn't just his mother that forgave him, and while his churning stomach is still there, he finds himself much more relieved than before.
"Thank you, mother. I'll make sure that you don't regret doing that."
And as he opens the door, he hears a faint creak of the floorboards. He acknowledges the shimmer in the air, and smiles knowingly before returning to his room.
She follows him, and she knows that he is aware of her. Two years since the Council hearing, two years without talking to her best friend.
He leaves his bedroom door ever so slightly open for her, and she smiles.
After closing the door, he pats the bed, inviting the haze to sit down. He watches the shimmer drift towards him, and the bed sheets compress as the figure sits down.
"It's been a while." He says. The haze doesn't reply, but he isn't fazed. It just makes him more intrigued.
"You know, I was hoping for a visitor a few months ago, yet I wasn't sure who it'd be. It seems strange, doesn't it? Hoping for someone that you'll never see. Perhaps I'm in need of a psychiatrist," he chuckles.
"I noticed that the moon would draw me outside. The answers to all my questions are in my mind, and you know all of them, don't you?"
Again, the haze doesn't respond. Though, he doesn't need confirmation to know that he's right.
"I remember lying to someone I knew. I was sure our friendship was going to end, yet she forgave me. After all I'd done, she still gave me a second chance." He saw the sheets shift, and smiled. "It was you, wasn't it?"
Though he couldn't see it coming, he wasn't surprised to feel two arms wrap around his torso. He felt a sobbing head press against his side, and he returned the embrace.
"Whoever you are, know that I miss you. And while I don't expect any answers, I hope you visit again soon." He paused, his brain making the realization.
" If you didn't want to see me again, you wouldn't be here right now… It was me. I'm the reason I can't remember you, aren't I?" He feels the haze pull away from him and watches the bed sheets lift.
The haze flickers for a moment, and an elf stands in front of him. Tears are spilling across her face yet she smiles warmly.
"Arty, you idiot. Give me a heads up next time before you 'fix your wrongdoings,' won't ya?"
He's shocked, and remembers the elf from his dream.
"Holly."