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‘To the human, Arcade,’ Fern wrote.
Then immediately stopped.
He didn’t know how humans started their letters in the human realm.
Fern blinked at his sheet of paper for half a second. He was so used to the way letters were addressed back in Frenatae (always mentioning the title of the person right before their name) that it was a real struggle for him to think about what structure would be the ‘standard’ in a place with no magic. Probably something more boring than his own.
Still, Fern wanted to follow human customs at least for this. But he couldn’t exactly ask Arcade for help without having to explain themselves, and he didn’t want to tell Arcade what they were planning to do. So, he had to figure it out alone─ even while feeling a little lost, and without a single hint to guide them on their writing quest.
Fern briefly considered leaving the greeting as he’d first written it. However, he quickly dismissed the idea because referring to Arcade as ‘the human’ didn’t feel appropriate. Replacing it with ‘to my friend, Arcade,’ didn’t feel right either, for the word wouldn’t get his point across: That Fern didn’t think of him as a friend anymore. And, alas, Arcade didn’t have any other title that he could use instead.
Finally, after another incredible ten seconds of pondering about it, Fern settled on writing Arcade’s name alone, deciding there was no title on the face of the earth that could convey everything Fern considered him to be. Arcade was just… Arcade. He was more than what the prince deserved, yet never enough to sate the way their heart longed for him. He was the anchor that kept them grounded on a bad day, and the air balloon that lifted their spirits to cloud nine.
Arcade was everything.
Fern wished they could actually say that to his face.
They took a deep breath while trying to put their mind back in order, forcing themselves to focus on the task at hand: their confession letter. It was kind of an important thing. They really couldn’t mess up.
So, very carefully, Fern passed the back of their hand over the surface of their makeshift table, wiping it to get rid of any pebbles or dirt that could ruin his paper sheet. (There was foliage everywhere when one lived inside of a cave. He had to be extra attentive.) Then, once they were happy with how clean the tree stump was, they placed the sheet on top of it to erase the first sentence, his movements soft enough to not compromise the integrity of the paper.
The day before, Fern had complained about not having anything to do when Arcade wasn’t around. They were intending for their words to make him visit more frequently, or stay longer, without having to actually say it out loud. But instead of taking the damn hint and spending the night with Fern as the prince had hoped, Arcade ripped a piece of paper off his Biology notebook before taking a mechanical blue pencil out of their backpack.
“I promise I’ll bring a notebook soon enough,” he explained, handing everything over to Fern, “but this way you won’t get as bored in the meantime!”
Fern was never a big fan of writing or drawing. However, Arcade’s smile made it impossible for them to refuse his human offerings. Besides, his eyes were sparkling like fireflies, and his skin looked warm under the sunlight, and he was so worth the effort that Fern promised themselves they’d use the paper to make him something. They wanted to give him something, anything, for once.
“I’ll also try to find a book that’s... you know, not curse-related, so I can give it to you next time. What genre do you like?” he asked, turning to Fern. The fairy stayed silent for half a heartbeat, trying to think how to tell Arcade that they didn’t enjoy reading without causing his face to sadden. But Arcade had already taken his hand to his chin with a thoughtful noise. “Wait, what type of books do fairies read? Do you have your own Twilight over there?”
Fern tilted their head, confused at his words. Now, it was true that the prince didn’t like books, which meant he didn’t know a lot about them, but he was sure that such a question would puzzle anybody. “Yeah, I… guess? Our sunsets are quite stunning, and they always look different depending on whichー” They paused, frowning slightly upon noticing that Arcade was smiling again, almost mockingly this time. “What does this have to do with books?”
Long story short, Fern only had one sheet of paper to work with (at least, until Arcade brought him a notebook full of more), so he couldn’t afford to do something dumb, like tearing it apart with a wood sliver. That was their first chance; maybe the only one, to tell Arcade what they felt before losing all the courage they had managed to gather. They had promised themselves to give him something, after all.
‘To Arcade,’ he started over again. His graceful calligraphy made the words look like they were dancing, similar to the flowers in the wind. ‘I’m drawn to you like a moth to a light, which seems like a very appropriate simile to start this with. A very logical explanation of why, every time you’re around, I have this sudden urge to get closer to you, as if you were my compass, or the flashlight that guides my path. As if you were meant to hold my hand, walk beside me, and never let go.
‘After getting cursed, I was utterly lost. I was alone for a year, and no matter how hard I tried, none of the other lights I found were strong enough to help me. So, before you found me, I had already accepted that I would never get back home. But then… you came around. Your presence eclipsed everything else, and you became my moon and my sun and my stars; you became the candle in the middle of the night, the bonfire in the center of my forest.’
Fern stopped writing when they realized they were gripping the pencil too hard, and took a moment to re-read their own words. He wondered if they were enough for Arcade to understand what Fern was trying to say, to make him realize how brighter he’d made their world by solely being there. He was their floating light in the darkest of nights. He was magic on himself; he left a trail of sparkles everywhere he went, and Fern would follow it until the end of their days.
Arcade meant so much to Fern that they didn’t think they could ever explain it, regardless of how exhaustively they attempted to describe it. Words weren’t enough. Maybe, if Arcade brightened their days only from time to time, if his presence were as ephemeral as the seasons; maybe then it’d be easier to express. But he was way beyond that already. Fern thought about him on a daily basis, and it didn’t exactly help that Arcade kept giving them stuff that reminded them of him.
Fern looked up from his piece of paper, staring at the cave around them while sitting cross-legged on the floor. Above him, the stalactites were decorated with vines, several blue flowers, and a windchime made of soda tabs. A few meters away, there was a fallen tree trunk supported by rocks on each side, hovering not very high up from the ground and covered by soft, green moss. In the corner next to his hammock, a small pile of arranged stuff shone even under the dim sunlight.
And every single thing was somehow related to Arcade, now.
When Fern told him the whole truth about their curse, they were sitting on that very tree trunk inside their cave. That day, the prince had been terrified. Of Arcade leaving them. Of Arcade deciding that helping them wasn’t worth it anymore. Of Arcade thinking that they had committed a stupid mistake (even Fern knew that putting on their mom’s crown out of a whim was pointless and dumb). Why wouldn’t he leave? Fern had kept the truth from him. They had lied.
Why would Arcade want to stay by their side?
Fern had been utterly ready for Arcade to stand up and walk out. Instead, even after hearing everything, he didn’t move. Instead, he talked about accidentally bleaching his hair, and he made a joke about how sad Fern’s backstory was, and just like that, Arcade’s serene attitude calmed the anxiety ringing in their ears.
Arcade looked at them when they laughed, too, and his brown eyes eased their accelerated heartbeat, making them feel like they were laying on the warm sand of a beach. They felt at peace, and with not a single worry in the world. “It’s probably weird to laugh,” Fern said, after a few seconds. Their body, pressed against Arcade’s shoulder, relaxed upon feeling his warmth. “But… I guess I’m just relieved that I told you. And, um, that you’re still here.”
The second Fern finished their sentence, Arcade moved away. The sudden disappearance of his presence was frightening. Fern felt like he was drowning, his breathing stopping as if the waves of the sea had reached their spot on the sand and were now dragging them to the depths. However, before they could start fighting against the surge of water, Arcade’s hand was on their shoulder, steadying them. They felt immediately grounded once again.
“Well, don’t worry, Fern,” he said, looking right at them. The smile on his face was soft and natural, like a universal constant, and the prince felt a little dumb from having thought that they were going to lose it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Now, every time Fern saw the tree trunk, Arcade’s words resonated in their ears. A promise they valued more than the whole world.
When Fern decided to renovate their cave, he picked up flowers for it. He spent a whole afternoon choosing them from the forest, taking with him every yellow flower he could find. Honestly, if he was going to decorate that place, he might as well make it nice for himself. And yellow was his favorite color. He added a few pink ones here and there, just to spice it up, but the vines still ended up full of yellow specks that reminded Fern of tiny little sunsets.
But then, not very long ago, Arcade visited the prince way earlier than usual. Fern normally went foraging right before Arcade got off school, which gave them enough time to finish their “errands” while Arcade changed out of his uniform and made his way to the cave. It was a routine, now. Fern never expected Arcade to arrive sooner than that. So, of course, his sudden arrival caught him off guard.
“Hey, Fern! You here?” Arcade exclaimed from the entrance of the cave. Startled, Fern turned around to face him, their eyes widening the second they landed on him, his heart jumping inside their chest at the sudden appearance of their friend. And, despite the surprise showing on every inch of their face, everything inside of him started to buzz with excitement.
“You’re early today,” they answered, blinking. Arcade took one of his hands to his neck in an almost unconscious movement that Fern had learned to identify as ‘nervousness’. He wondered for a brief second what he could be nervous about; however, when he smiled, it was so beautiful that their thoughts rapidly vanished.
“We had an exam last period, and people could leave the classroom as soon as they finished it,” he explained. Fern nodded, slightly distracted, half of their mind still trying to recover from the glittering bubbles dancing on their chest at the sight of his smile. It didn’t exactly help that Arcade’s eyes studied their figure for a few seconds, the weight of his gaze causing the tips of their ears to blush. “Oh, sorry. Were you going somewhere?”
“Just foraging,” Fern mumbled, turning their head away before focusing on putting their cloak’s hood over their ears. It didn’t hide them completely, but it was better than nothing, and it also served as an excuse to make some time; very valuable time, that they could use to recover. “I want to find berries today, and the flowers I put up are already withering away, so I need to get some too.”
“I see. I didn’t know you were gonna be busy,” he answered, moving in place a little anxiously. His hands clenched around his backpack’s straps just slightly, and Fern noticed the little frown that was making its way to the corners of his eyes, so subtle it was invisible unless you were looking.
And Fern was always looking.
“You can come along if you want. I could use an extra pair of hands,” they added, keeping their tone as nonchalant as possible without sounding dismissive. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but it was hard to keep a calm expression upon seeing how Arcade’s eyes brightened up, another smile taking over his face.
“Really?” he asked. Their voice was full of an excitement that Fern couldn’t understand; much less so when it was related to something as frivolous as accompanying the prince to a very ordinary task, and even when Arcade tried to tone it down, it was to no avail. “I meanー That’s cool! I’d love to help!”
Arcade’s presence was so alluring that their mind wondered for the millionth time how he did it. How he could keep on shining no matter what; during the darkest of nights, when despair seemed to absorb every flicker of light, or during the brightest of days, when the whole forest praised his existence with singing birds, when the swaying trees all fought to get closer to him. Arcade could make the most ordinary things feel like the best memory of their life. It sounded ridiculous, yet Fern was ready to let such irrationality take him away.
He was ready. He just wasn’t brave enough.
If they were brave enough, they would stride up to Arcade right there and then take him by his shirt. If they were brave enough, they would get his face close to theirs before kissing him, tasting the sun on his lips, testing if they could get some of that glow for themselves. But he just wasn't brave enough, and so he managed to get a hold of himself and forced their legs to take him outside, his gaze getting away from Arcade’s sparkly eyes. He couldn’t let those thoughts take over him.
But he could allow themselves some other small things. Like brushing their arm with Arcade’s every time he walked past him. Like letting their fingers linger longer than necessary whenever he touched him to get his attention. Like staying still for just a second every time Arcade gave them the berries he’d collected, to feel the sparkles jump from where their hands hovered close to each other. Like reaching out for the same flower Arcade wanted to pick, causing their fingers to bump inevitably.
By the end of the day, Fern’s arms were full of fresh, vibrant blue flowers: The same ones that decorated their cave while they wrote their letter, a kaleidoscope of blue hues that glowed like gems. Truth was, Fern had wanted to get more yellow flowers so he could keep alive their dozens of tiny sunsets. But then, he found out that blue was Arcade’s favorite color. He found out that blue, despite being cold, made him feel as warm as Arcade’s own presence.
Now, every time Fern looked at them, he thought about him.
He desperately wanted to know if Arcade thought about them, too.
A blue petal fell from the flower Fern was staring at, fluttering down so slowly that gravity didn’t seem to have any effect on it. It swirled around with a delicacy that resulted mesmerizing, seemingly lighter than the clouds, until it landed on top of Fern’s sheet of paper. It made virtually no sound, yet it passed so close to Fern’s hand that it brushed their knuckles, and the soft touch brought him back to reality.
Fern’s gaze went down. The petal was right over Arcade’s name at the top of their letter, almost looking like it was still hovering over it. They wondered if Arcade’s kisses would be just as gentle. If, one day, he’d say their name like it was something to treasure; something valuable that he could keep safe, right between his arms. If his touches would be just as sweet and kind and warm as everything he did and everything he was. They wondered if holding his hand would be like touching the stars, like creating a new kind of magic.
And, then, Fern decided that yes. That Arcade was all of that and more.
‘You became what I looked forward to every day, and what my mind couldn’t stop thinking about every night,’ he continued, resuming his writing. His calligraphy was slightly hastier, for their mind was going way faster than what their hand could follow, but Fern didn’t care. There was so much they needed to say, so much they needed Arcade to know, that they just focused on letting their heart speak for them.
‘I didn’t have any of that for a long time. You saved me in ways you can’t even imagine. You decided to help me without wanting anything in return, and even after your light was everywhere I looked, even when you had already done more than what I could ask for, you didn’t leave. You never got tired of it, even when you should have.
Maybe you don’t understand how much that alone means to me; how your presence changed the universe entirely, how every little constellation is brighter just because you smiled at it. How I want to give you the entirety of my heart just because you looked at me, and noticed me, and saw my destroyed wings and my mossy clothes and my thorned crownー and still didn’t get your eyes off me.
After being exiled, I didn’t think I would ever deserve anything ever again, but you showed me I was wrong. You care about me even when I am the cursed version of myself, and you show it with small, thoughtful things that demonstrate you pay attention to me of all people.’
The very same day Arcade accompanied them to get berries and flowers, he noticed how little Fern could take at a time. The prince loved their cloak; it made them feel safe and protected, it was the only thing they were allowed to take with them to the human realm before being thrown out of Frenatae, so it had a lot of value to them. But it was not made for collecting purposes. The pockets (only two of them) were too small to carry a big number of berries, and Fern could only do so much with their (also only two) own hands.
“That’s why I need to go foraging almost every day,” Fern explained. They were focused on keeping the balance of the dozens of flowers they were carrying in their arms, and when they shrugged to show indifference, they only did it with one shoulder, avoiding any sudden movements that could make the plants fall off their feeble grasp.
Arcade, who had filled his bag with as many berries as they could find, stared down at the cargo he was carrying in front of him. He was making sure not to squish any fruits, but he didn’t seem afraid of them staining his school books… maybe because that would happen regardless. Rather, it was as if he wanted to protect them because they were for Fern; as if he wanted to keep them nice and safe so Fern could have them later.
At least, that’s what the prince wanted to believe.
Then, Arcade glanced at how little Fern’s pockets could fit in comparison. He stared at the difference for a few seconds without saying anything. Finally, with a thoughtful noise, he took one of the fruits and popped it into his mouth, his action distracted enough to look unintentional... even when, seconds later, he ate another, and another, and then a third one.
Fern simply stared at him, noticing the way his lips were starting to color with pink and red and purple hues. They wondered what it would be like to draw Arcade close, capture his mouth with their own, obliterate any trace of tinted color from his lips. He knew by heart the flavors of every berry of that forest, but he still wanted to find out what the kiss would taste like. Maybe it would be sweeter than all the berries of the world. Maybe Arcade would miss Fern’s warmth and flavor when they pulled away.
They were probably staring too hard, though, because they saw how Arcade formed his next words before his ears had the time to process them fully. “Sorry. I haven’t offered you any yet,” he said. Fern’s gaze snapped up to Arcade’s eyes, their own cheeks acquiring the same reddish color of the berries’ juice. “Do you want some?” he added, fishing one out of his bag.
“Don’t worry about it,” Fern murmured, turning away to try and hide the embarrassment on his face. Luckily, Arcade didn’t seem to notice how intently they’d been looking at his lips, his presence remaining bubbly and sweet, light and addicting.
Then, the next day, Arcade brought them a tote bag.
“This way, you can have more room than just your pockets,” he said. Fern was just too astonished to respond right away, so he didn’t say anything when Arcade handed it over to them. They simply received it very carefully, as if it was the most valuable possession a man (or fairy) could have.
The tote bag, as Arcade had called it, was not heavy, made out of a transparent material that resembled plastic, reflective enough to cast sparkles under the sunlight if placed at the right angle. It had black straps for Fern to put it on their shoulder, and a jolly sunflower print decorating both sides. There was a worn-out blue stain at the bottom of it, too, as if someone had dyed it accidentally and then wasn’t able to get it off with anything.
“I hope it's not too uncomfortable,” Arcade continued, getting a little nervous at the silence around them both. Fern was still staring at the smudge, the color all too familiar to one they had stared at longingly before, wishing they could thread their fingers through it. “I didn’t bring a cotton one because it wouldn’t be easy to wash in your caveー But now that I think about it, maybe I could’ve helped with that, taking the bag to my dorm and cleaning it and then bringing it back to you…”
Arcade’s shirt smelled like home when Fern threw themselves into his arms, hugging him so unexpectedly that he stopped talking, his arms hovering in the air for two seconds before he finally enveloped Fern with them. The warmth surrounding them was so comforting that they nuzzled into his neck even more, not even minding how their own hands fisted the tote bag straps hard enough to hurt.
There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the tote bag, absolutely nothing that could break Fern’s curse, or get rid of their mark of banishment, or get them back home. It wasn’t anything big, but it didn’t need to be, because Arcade had given it to him. Arcade had paid attention to them, and had wanted to make it easier for them, and had gifted them something small, yet significant enough to make their heart soar into the sky, explode in thousands of fireworks, shine so bright that it could replace the sun and the stars and everything in between.
“Thank you,” Fern mumbled into his chest. Arcade’s embrace tightened in response, and the rhythm of his heart became soft and steady; a lullaby, whispering the secrets of the universe and love.
‘Thank you, thank you…’
Crack.
Fern froze, the sudden snap of their pencil bringing them back to reality. There was a string of words covering the entirety of the page, seemingly out of nowhere, and their eyes slowly came back to focus until he could read them. Then, they blinked, surprised. Fern hadn’t noticed that they were writing those two words over and over again, on their sheet of paper, and they were in such a trance that didn’t even stop when they ran out of space. Their hand simply kept going, until the tip of their pencil stumbled with the wooden surface of the tree stump, and cracked.
“Oh.”
Fern didn’t move for another second, staring at the ‘thank you’s’. He quickly decided that they were still not enough to convey his gratitude, that they'd probably never be, and that he had other things he wanted to say, anyway. So, very carefully, he checked again for any pebbles on his makeshift table, erased the extra words one letter at a time, and spent a couple of minutes trying to understand how to get more graphite out of their pencil to use it again.
Fern managed to keep the paper intact by the end of it. However, the price to pay was leaning over a tree stump for ages, and their back was already feeling it. Luckily, he’d learned several stretching exercises for his dancing lessons back in Frenatae: Intertwine the fingers of both hands and then stretch their arms up to get rid of the tension on their shoulders; support his hands on the ground before leaning back as much as he could to help with the strain on his lower back…
When he let their head fall backwards, his eyes caught a glimpse of silver coming from a pile next to his hammock: his assortment of trinkets (or, as Arcade liked to call it, ‘collection of shiny stuff’). He straightened immediately at the view, his ears and wings perking up like they usually did.
Before meeting Arcade, Fern never kept anything in the cave (at least, not anything beyond strictly necessary) because doing so would feel like accepting they lived there now. It was the same reason why they never bothered to make it look like a home: because it wasn’t. He couldn’t get attached to that place. He couldn’t allow himself to have anything that would make them feel any sense of longing. So they maintained their cave with the bare minimum, and as modestly as possible.
Keywords: Before meeting Arcade.
Fern still wasn’t sure how, but Arcade managed to make them care about the cave by making them care about him. Now, there were vines decorating the roof, dozens of blue and yellow speckles that made Fern smile whenever he saw them. Now, there was a windchime made out of soda tabs hanging from the ceiling, singing louder every time the Arcade pushed open the moss of the entrance. Now, there was an arranged heap of stuff that Fern treasured not only because it glowed, but because Arcade regularly brought things to add to it.
Apart from the pots and cutlery and discarded foil that Fern had found in the forest by himself, the collection contained: 1. a lot of random screws that Arcade had in his dorm (apparently, they were in a box that came with his bike, but he was sure he would never need them); 2. a couple of rocks covered in shiny, reflective stickers with basketball and space designs (coming from pages that Arcade had ripped off his notebooks so Fern could use them to decorate whatever he wanted); 3. some crystals Arcade picked up around his school; and 4. an old key he’d found at the bottom of his pants pocket (he said he didn’t remember what that was for.)
Small things that showed he cared.
‘Thank you. For wanting to help. For reminding me what it was like to have something, anything at all, that you’d protect for the rest of your days. For not leaving me stranded yet again, and for giving me so much when I haven’t done anything to deserve it; when I haven’t even done anything in return. Thank you for gifting me your smile every single day, because it’s worth more than what hundreds of galaxies could offer; because it’s so warm that it channels the sun, and it’s just another source of light I can’t get enough of.’
Arcade smiled a lot. He smiled constantly like he didn’t realize how fucking valuable it was, how much the world brightened up just because he did. He smiled every time his rocks skipped more than twice on the surface of the lake. He smiled whenever he brought a new book, his eyes sparkling with hope and curiosity. He smiled even while he spent his afternoon with a cursed moth prince like Fern.
Arcade smiled with the simplest of things, too, like shows, or video games, or music. Sometimes, Fern liked to evoke that day when they both took a break from trying to break the curse; when Arcade had looked at them like that was their day, like everything in the world was possible solely because they were together. Fern liked to remember how he smiled while seeing Fern’s reactions during the show, while holding their hands to guide them through the game, while the prince danced to the rhythm of the music.
Fern didn’t think that Arcade noticed how, all along, he himself had smiled so fucking wide while watching them.
‘Even your company is a gift. I love spending time with you, for it makes my body feel like it’s flying; makes my heart sing as if there wasn’t any curse in the world that could keep me away from touching the clouds and talking with the stars. My cave is warmer when you’re in it, and I can never wait for the moment you step inside because, then, everything around you will glow too.’
Arcade’s warmth was like the sun: So powerful that it reached every nook and cranny; so huge that it was constant even during the night; so gentle that it enveloped Fern like the softest of blankets. Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, the prince found himself counting the times Arcade had been close enough to touch. Close enough for Fern to hear his heartbeat, so soft it resembled a secret only theirs to witness, yet as firm as an evoked melody that drowned the rest of the world out.
‘You give me all those gifts without even noticing how much they mean to me. How much you mean to me. How much I love you.’
Fern’s hand stopped writing, the prince hesitating for half a second while he stared at the words over the paper. At the way their traces seemed to swirl; at how foreign they looked to him even when it was his own calligraphy that made them dance. ‘I love you.’ Fern had imagined those words for a long time, whispered them when only the trees could hear, letting their heart scream them whenever it had the chance. It was a little weird seeing them so tangible now, out there in the open, for everyone to see the weight of their meaning.
Those words were heavy, and overpowering, and terrifying. Still, Fern had the feeling he could say them a thousand times more.
‘Because I love you. I am in love with you. And I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve confessed it to the wind and the flowers, to the moon and the stars, to the fleeting touches we sometimes share and to the glow of your eyes and to the smell of your clothes. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve evoked the night I met you, the night you fell face-first against the ground. I’ve stopped keeping track of all the subsequent nights, when I wished you fell for me just as hard.’
“Alright,” Fern mumbled, his eyes going over the last couple of lines. Then, after two seconds of processing, he flinched. “Now, this is just stupid. ”
Did they just compare Arcade falling to the ground with Arcade catching feelings for them? Granted, that had sounded like a good idea while they were writing it, but the second their pen finished the last trace of the sentence, reality dawned upon him, and their cheeks started to warm up in embarrassment. Almost instinctively, Fern’s ears went down as if trying to hide the blush that decorated them. Fern himself had to take his hands to his face, covering how mortified he felt even when there was no one around to see him.
He had passed his eraser over the paper so many times that some places were starting to get smudged; though nothing terrible, it was definitely a telltale of his struggle. Fern knew that reading was annoying, but he was not acquainted with how much of a nuisance writing could be. Then, he wondered if it was even worth it. He wondered if everything he had written made any sense, if it was good enough for Arcade to understand, if Arcade would appreciate the way Fern had poured their heart out for him to see, or if Arcade would decide it was too much or too little or, or…
Or if everything Fern had written was just as delusional as hoping Arcade would love them back.
Arcade, who could perfectly be just a nice guy who enjoyed doing nice things. Arcade, who had done so much for Fern even when Fern hadn’t done anything in return. Arcade, who had no reasons to love them back; not really, not as much as Fern loved him, because the only thing the prince had done was to take from him; because the only thing the prince had to offer was a mindless love letter full of crushing feelings.
“What a great time to doubt,” Fern grumbled, picking up the sheet of paper and everything it meant to them. A flicker of hesitation was getting bigger inside his chest while his eyes scanned the words time and time again, and Fern gulped, taking a deep breath to calm his sudden racing apprehension. He tried to convince himself that he couldn’t back up, remembered that he had promised to give it to Arcade, summoned as much courage as he could to actually do it…
“Fern! You here?”
Fern would’ve thrown the letter out of the window if his cave had any windows.
For half a second, the prince felt as if the entire dimension had been pushed underwater: a slight ringing took over their ears, the tips of their fingers grew cold, and their body got so stiff that a simple breeze could’ve snapped it in half. Out of instinct and sheer panic, Fern’s hands clutched the piece of paper close to their chest, attempting to hide it from Arcade’s view. Still, their heart was beating so damn fast that they were sure Arcade could hear it; that it was so obvious they were hiding something…
“Oh, were you writing?” Arcade’s voice continued, now closer to them. When Fern turned to look at him, they saw him crouching right next to them, eyeing the mechanical pencil and the piece of paper that Fern was hanging onto for dear life. Arcade didn’t seem suspicious, though, his eyes shining with great interest. “What is it?”
Fern stared back at him in silence while his fingers twitched around the letter. Arcade just waited there, patiently, with such a welcoming expression on his face that the prince would’ve told him all the secrets of the galaxy if he were to ask. Luckily, Arcade didn’t push. And upon remembering the last lines he'd written, the overpowering weight of them, Fern themselves hesitated.
They used the little willpower they had left to look away from Arcade’s expectant face. Away from his twinkling eyes and open expression and smiling lips; away from the way he seemed to glow, effortlessly, even while surrounded by dirt and moss. And, right there and then, Fern decided they would never forgive themselves if their letter were to wipe such lightness away. If their letter changed Arcade’s expression and made it fall, if the letter casted shadows over his eyes…
Fern simply couldn’t risk it.
“A fantasy story,” they answered, and the words came out like a gasp for breath. The notion of their love as just a fantasy was strong enough to choke their heart.
“Cool! It seems that my idea for a distraction worked!” Arcade said, his tone bubbly and excited, before sitting down next to Fern and scooting even closer to them. His warmth made itself known like a wave of sunlight caressing Fern’s arms, and everything the prince wanted was to bury their face in Arcade’s chest and bathe their cheeks in such comfort.
However, Arcade accompanied his question by stretching his hand towards them, and the motion immediately betrayed that he wanted to reach for the letter. Naturally, Fern’s panic skyrocketed. All their hesitation solidified in a rock big enough to create a painful lump in the middle of their throat. All their thoughts were wiped out and away from their mind, one single resolution taking over their entire being: There was no way in hell they could let Arcade see it.
“Can I read it?” Arcade asked, hand halfway through the air.
Fern lifted the letter in response, almost as if he were about to give it to him. However, they tore the paper apart instead, transforming it into so many little pieces that it could’ve been confetti. The prince managed to keep a straight, nonchalant face the entire time, though, and Arcade would’ve noticed the underlying desperation of the movement if it wasn’t because he was too busy being speechless.
“No.”