Chapter Text
Below his bare feet, there is green grass that reflects the golden rays of light that shine through puffy white clouds in a beautiful blue sky. Birds fly above his head, the golden locks creating a place for them to want to rest. Reaching out a hand, a bird lands on his finger. A small, round, blue bird with bright orange feet that curl around the delicate, small limb. It sings a song that only the birds could possibly know. The octaves high, smooth as silk as they drift through the sky. He can see it, the lines of blue satin that twist and twirl up into the air. The song becomes a part of this earth.
Looking over, he spots a tree that captures the image of the Tree of Life. It goes up and up. He looks up, his head tilting all the way back to see the top. There must be a thousand and one branches extending from the trunk with a million and one more leaves off of each one. Some vine down, creating long, intertwining ropes. As his eyes trace back down, he can see the swings created with the thick vines. His eyes focus on the speck of red on the seat. A ladybug happily munching on a leaf.
Steve’s eyes return back to the base of the tree. It is then that he sees the small opening. The rough brown bark cuddles around the tree trunk, protecting the shelter that hides behind the small orange door. The heavy roots protrude from the ground, limbs extending against the earth to create a walkway up to the door.
Steve takes a step toward the tree, watching as fireflies erupt from the ground he steps on. A path being lit. As he does, he can see a light turn on in a new upper opening of the tree. A small window that fills with a hazy yellow, a stark contrast to the golden sunlight filtering the world around him.
Reaching the door, Steve pushes it open tentatively. A small room with a table made of woven vines for legs, thick enough to support the weight of the round wooden table top. The utensils were carved from mossy stones. On the table sits a bowl of vibrant red, blue, and purple berries. His hand instinctively reaches out to the delectable looking fruit and picks up a rather big strawberry. He sees the seeds to be a shade of vibrant blue and the stem to be orange. He places it back into the bowl, his fingers stained purple.
Steve spots the mushroom stairs that stick to the bark walls that curl up. He walks over and steps on the first step. The steps glow red and begin to move below his feet. The steps twist up, taking him up and up the tree. His arms reach out, balancing himself on the unsteady mushroom lift.
A deep chuckle fills Steve’s ear just as the music of the birds had. As he looks around and down, he doesn’t spot anybody. “Hello?” His voice is tiny in the vast expanse of the hollowed out tree house.
There is no reply. The mushrooms stop, leaving him to step into a room with a wooden floor. Steve’s eyes widen when he sees the intricate patterns of flowers, vines, and humming birds carved into the floor. Half of it is painted with vibrant shades of color. “Wow.” He breathes out, looking back up to the rest of the room. The walls are covered in leaves that are plastered to it; oranges and reds from a fall that he has not gotten the chance to see. One glance out the window and he’s in summer, the bright green leaves dancing around him as if he were having a picnic in a field in the middle of July.
Steve can hear a flutter but sees nothing. He scans the room, the chuckle once again filling his ears. Steve squeezes his fingers together. Nothing can hurt him here. This he knows.
“Show yourself.”
“Or…?” The voice returns, delicate and deep in the silence of the tree.
Steve says nothing. He turns around, careful of his footing. It is there in the corner that he spots the creature. Crouched, he sits on a toadstool. His legs are bent, his head being held in the palm of his left hand. His arm perched on his left leg for support. His deep brown hair flows and gets lost behind the expanse of his back. He’s dressed in white, trimmed with gold. His icy blue eyes stare directly at Steve. Steve blinks as he hears the flutter once more. Two silver wings reveal themselves behind the man's back.
The most beautiful Fairy Steve has ever seen.
The Fairy smiles a soft smile, his plush lips revealing a bright white set of teeth. “You are the boy in which my birds sing to me about?”
Steve’s mouth suddenly feels dry. He isn’t sure how to respond. He’s… usually alone in these sorts of spaces. “Steve.” He forces out. “My name’s Steve.”
The Fairy smiles a little wider. “My pleasure to meet you.” He rises.
Steve takes in the entirety of the Fairy’s luxurious garb. His boots are white, the intricate golden detail creating a spiraling pattern within its stitchwork. His pants, tucked into the tall boots, are snow white. It is his jacket. The mostly golden jacket covering his chest and clipping once at his torso with a silvery blue diamond detail. The shoulders look as if they have armour, the silver, gold, and white lift and create ripples until the white sleeve runs down his arms. Golden details in swirling patterns once more take up the white canvas. Down his back is a satin white long cape. Steve can see the golden leaves stitched beautifully along the edges.
The fairy reaches out his hand. “Come.” His fingertips drip golden fairy dust into the air. “I can show you what I know you love.”
Steve feels drawn to the blue eyes staring at him, the way they reflected the blue sky outside. The way he could see himself in the reflection of the orbs, as if looking to a pond. The Fairy’s eyes held the entirety of nature.
“Do you own this place?” Steve asks, his hand hesitantly held over the Fairy’s outstretched palm.
With a nod of his head, the Fairy wraps his fingers around Steve’s hand, trailing up to lightly graze his wrist. “Close your eyes,” he whispers.
Steve closes his eyes, but he does not see darkness. He sees bright white light, blue dancing around the edges of his closed off vision. Specs of gold and silver twinkle and float. They drift, creating images of tigers, of leaves falling from a tree, of easels and blank canvases.
His outside senses can feel that he is moving, maybe even soaring. The wind flows through his hair. Steve can feel the coolness against his face. His eyelids flutter at the sensation. He wants to open his eyes, but he cannot. Steve doesn’t want to lose sight of the images floating behind his eyelids.
His feet are off the ground, his barefoot toes wiggling in the air. He wants to speak, but he doesn’t want the moment to end. He can feel the Fairy’s hand still gently holding his own. His other arm is wrapped around Steve’s slender waist. His fingertips brush the skin just below the edge of Steve’s green shirt. It’s enchanting.
His feet slowly ease into the plush green grass. It curls around his toes, around the arch of his foot, his heel, his ankle. It creates a pair of shoes.
“You don’t wish to hurt any creatures barefoot, do you?” The Fairy asks.
Steve shakes his head. He can hear the hum of the millions of tiny insects below and around him. He can feel a bug land on his wrist. It walks the pattern of a heart, then is gone.
“Open your eyes, Steve.” The Fairy whispers in Steve’s ear.
His eyes pop open and no longer is he in the tree house. A crystal lake shines before him. Small ripples that create waves that turn a light shade of glimmering purple. The water looks as if a child spilled all their silver glitter into it with pockets of purple. The Fairy waves his hand to the side of Steve resulting in two Koi’s to show themselves in the water directly in front of them.
“I thought Koi lived in ponds?”
The Fairy laughs. “Here, we all live amongst each other, wherever we wish.” He turns around and waves his hand again. A group of four squirrels roll a log bench toward them. “Thank you.”
Steve watches with eyes full of wonder. The Fairy beams at him, sitting down on the bench. “Join me?” He asks. Two mason jars of lemonade are brought over by a swan. “Why thank you, sweetheart.” The Fairy kisses the top of the swan's head delicately. Taking the two jars of lemonade, he holds one out to Steve.
Steve turns around, taking in the new location the Fairy transported him too. His feet are swaddled in his grass formed shoes laced with daisy petals at the edges. They blend so easily. He watches as bugs crawl around them, adapting to his foot as if it is nature itself. He can see them all down there, moving amongst one another. A village of another species below his feet that he doesn’t even think about when awake.
His eyes catch on his wrist. There, a light pink heart in the same place the bug had walked. He runs his thumb over it. The pink illuminates in his skin before returning to a light, matte shade.
Steve looks up at the Fairy. The Fairy is already smiling back at him. His wrist too has a small pink heart, shining dimly. “Who are-”
“Ah, ah, ah.” The Fairy holds up a finger. “You don’t get to ask that question.”
Steve cocks his head. “Oh yeah? I created this place.”
The Fairy shrugs. “If you believe you did,” He says, lifting the mason jar to his lips. “Then I suppose you did.” He sips.
Scoffing, Steve asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Exasperated, the Fairy sets his jar on the log besides Steve’s untouched one. The condensation drips down the side, leaving a wet ring on the fresh wood. “You believe you created this space, but you have not.” The Fairy gets up and walks toward the edge of the lake. “I have.”
Steve takes a step toward the Fairy, both of his arms at his sides. “I still created it then. I created you who then claims to create this space.”
The Fairy is quiet. Steve watches as he picks an orchid from a plant beside the lake. Gently, he kneels down and places the orchid flower into the water. It poofs a cloud of red and blue smoke before turning itself into a lily pad with a flower. A bright green frog leaps around it.
“Stevie, do you believe in magic?”
“Here, sure.” How could he not, seeing the Fairy transform such a beauty into another?
“But not everywhere?” The Fairy dips his fingers into the water.
“No.”
Rising, the Fairy dries his wet hand on his chest. “Interesting.”
Steve takes a deep breath. What is the Fairy even talking about? What does he not understand? Steve looks around the space. He has been here before, once upon a dream. This garden, with the bright blue sky and puffy, cotton candy clouds. The bright yellow sun that shines down and creates paths for him. This garden with the bugs and the birds and… and the…
Steve hasn’t been here before.
His garden had not been like this. His garden was more colorful in an artist's sort of way. His garden possessed tree trunks that were green and leaves that were purple with red edges. His skys were yellow while his sun produced bright blue rays. His birds would not sing, they would speak to him. His birds would speak and produce music notes, not satin ribbons.
His hands did not shake and produce a result. He just explored. His animals did not come to him, they simply existed around him. Here, they landed on him. Here, they created markings on his skin. Here, they wanted to be a part of him. Here, he became a part of their nature.
And his garden didn’t have trees that held the homes of Fairies.
Most importantly, his garden did not have a Fairy.
The Fairy smiles at him. “Now, do you see?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, his eyes shining with a glimmer of silver in the irises.
“What have you done to my garden?” Steve’s voice shakes on its own accord.
“You are a lucid dreamer.” The Fairy states matter of factly. “You understand your own creations, but not mine.”
Steve nods. “I have had my times in my garden before.”
“Yes, but you have not had this one before.” The Fairy replies quickly. “This is my garden.”
Steve speaks as if he did not hear the Fairy. “You have never once shown yourself before. Now you come and you have ruined my garden!”
The Fairy is shaking his head the whole time Steve speaks. “Stevie, this is not your garden. It is mine.”
“No.” Steve’s voice is cold. The air around him suddenly feels eerie. “That is impossible.” He can see the way the sky dims at his words. The clouds, once bright white, threaten to turn gray with storms.
“Anything is possible here.” The Fairy looks up at the sky, his eyes darkening.
Steve grits his teeth. This Fairy, beautiful and glowing, looks unphased at Steve’s words. Instead, he looks concerned with “his” garden. The garden that once was Steve’s that he came into and destroyed . The colorful creations Steve had crafted into nature were just gone.
“I thought you might react this way.” The Fairy now walks back to the log bench and sits. He says nothing, just pats his hand on the seat beside him. A pillow forms out of thin air in shimmering, small balls of cotton. “Come sit.”
“You have ruined my garden.”
“Stevie,” The Fairy sighs. “Your garden is just fine because this is not your garden. Eventually you will return back there.”
“Well I don’t want to be in your garden.” Steve crosses his arms defiantly.
The Fairy locks eyes with Steve’s harsh gaze. “Then wake up.”
He can’t.
He can’t wake up because he doesn’t want to wake up. There is no reason to wake up. No outside force like an alarm causing him to wake up. He wants to be here, otherwise he could just fling his eyes open. He could be away from this garden of singing birds and tattooing bugs. Away from this Fairy.
Yet, something keeps him here.
“I want to know who you-”
“Stop!” The Fairy claps his hands together, a puff of dark smoke erupting between his palms. A crack of thunder sounds in the distance. “Once you ask,” He says, taking a deep breath, his hand waving to enunciate his words. “Then you wake.”
Despite himself, Steve sits down next to the Fairy. “Maybe I want it to end.”
Frowning, the Fairy slumps and shrugs. His shoulder slightly pushes against Steve’s smaller one. “Then that is your wish.”
“Do you grant wishes?”
Chuckling, he replies, “No. I’m not a genie.”
“So what do you do? Besides, invade my dreams.”
The Fairy rolls his eyes. Lifting his hand, he waits for Steve’s eyes to gaze at his fingertips. Slowly, the Fairy inches his fingers closer, until they rest underneath Steve’s chin. “I live within you.” He turns Steve’s head to face his own. Without removing his hand, he breathes out, “Until you understand.”
Steve nods gently, his breathing slightly caught in his throat. There are specks of green that wrap around the specks of silver in the Fairy’s aqua eyes. His eyes trace over the Fairy’s cheekbones that are dusted with a rose pink blush. He looks down to the Fairy’s limps, soft and slightly parted.
“Understand what?” He breathes out.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
Steve knows some people are destined to be together in the world. His parents had been an example. Joe and Sarah Rogers believed they were soulmates their whole lives. When Steve was growing up, Sarah would tell him how she felt like she knew Joe for a lifetime. Maybe longer. How she woke up and just felt this ache in her heart for one man. For Joe. And it remained until she found him working at a boat repair shop.
When Steve’s father died, he knows a part of his mother died too. He could see it. Her eyes lost a glimmer of happiness, lost a light. Her smile was never as wide, never reached her eyes like it had when his dad walked into a room. They were soulmates, Steve thought. They were the exception.
Steve thinks of Sam and his relationship with Riley. How they have told him the same thing. Steve almost didn’t believe it at first. The way Riley joked that he had sent Sam a signal of love. Sam, with a bright grin and red face, agreed Riley had. When Steve had laughed, Riley called Steve a disbeliever.
And Steve didn’t believe it at first… except then Riley and Sam got married. Sam had never thought he would get married, never thought he would find a love so strong. Riley waltzed into his life and changed everything in the blink of an eye. Steve never thought he would see Sam fall so fast. Never thought he’d see his best friend say “I do” in the softest of breaths.
It was when Sam said the lines in his vow that his own mom had told him dozens of times that spooked Steve the most, “I only received the signal of love because he was the one for me.”
Soulmates .
“No,” Steve says quietly. “That’s… impossible. Anomalies.” Steve shakes his head gently. He feels a piece of his bangs fall out of his place and create a gentle curl against his forehead.
The Fairy searches Steve’s face. “Anomalies are possibilities though.”
“Not for me.”
The Fairy nods, his head inching closer to Steve’s. He can feel the soft breath against his own lips. Steve leans in a little closer, their lips so, so close. He feels a pull toward the Fairy. A current of electricity sparked between their chests.
“That’s a shame.” The Fairy whispers dangerously close to Steve’s lips.
Something about this Fairy calls him. He can feel the small pink heart on his wrist warm, sending a tingle into his arm. He sees from the corner of his eye the Fairy shift his own arm. He felt it too. A connection connected by an invisible line from soul to magical soul
Yet, Steve wants to know. He needs to know. He cannot kiss this lovely Fairy, dream or not. He must know who the enchanting creature is.
“What is your name?” Steve asks in the quietest of a whisper.
The Fairy shakes his head. “Goodbye, Stevie.”
Gold glitter glistens and spirals up from the ground around the Fairy’s feet. Steve gets up, reaching his arms out. “No!” He calls, but it is no use.
Gold is swirling high above now, consuming the fairy. The Fairy gives him a small wave. As the gold wraps around the Fairy, his hair flies around him in wisps of brunette. Steve can see a single tear roll down his cheek.
Steve’s arms are shining all the colors of the rainbow. The colors create cracks that force light out into the sky. He can see the fairytale around him spinning, getting faster and faster. The birds are chirping and singing louder and louder. The bugs are buzzing frantically. Steve can only see the tornado of gold in place of where the Fairy had been. As Steve goes to step toward the golden dust, he falls straight down.
The fairytale around him is collapsing.
Steve is waking up.