Fond Of A Human (2/2) || Ruith

Tell me something about yourself. Something no one else knows.

As I swam in this color-changing lake, I pondered this question. The fish were playful this morning, tickling the soles of my feet as the lake's placid water brushed across my bare chest. This moment offered a calm I desired to experience all hours of the day. 

Across the water, in a patch of fine grass, Simon leaned against a tree. Two days later, and he was here, as he'd promised me. 

His legs were folded neatly, and he wore a studious expression he hadn't shown me before. The journal he carried occupied his focus as he'd been writing in it all morning. I had only learned today about this hobby of his. It seemed there were a lot of unknown treasures buried in his satchel and in his heart. 

Simon could sense that I was watching him, and he looked at me. His face evaporated into something adoring—something so innocently fond and sweet that it made me nauseatingly happy. 

The sun peeked through the branches of his shelter and speckled his skin in a way that made it glitter. Truly, my eyes could not leave him. I was fascinated, I was curious, and I was enamored with Simon's beauty, kindness, and curiosity. I'd never predicted humans could be such, let alone one that was my friend. It was mysteriously riveting what was flourishing between us. 

Simon was here with me, and time had stopped. For forever could I spend in this moment, swimming while Simon captured his pictures and wondered about my world. I would answer all his questions—give him all the knowledge he craved until he was satisfied. Then we could pick fruit together, laugh, and continue to learn about each other. 

Together, we could spend years in this forest. 

We've only had a few moments together…but if you really must know, Simon, I'm beginning to feel so fond of a human that it frightens me. 

I swam back to land, dried, and got dressed. Then I dropped down beside Simon and lay on his shoulder. "What are you writing about?"

He closed the book, feigning calm when his heartbeat was erratic in my ears. "Nothing you'd be interested in."

I had an idea Simon's current entry had been about me, so I didn't pry. Secretly and fondly, I was flattered he wrote secrets about me. I lifted my head and stared at his profile contemplatively. My pulse quickened, and I was suddenly keenly aware of my own giddy heartbeat. I was nervous and a bit excited. Carefully, I closed the gap between us and pressed a quick kiss against his temple. 

Simon was not my brother, I knew…but his company reminded me of what it'd been like to be consumed with love for one. 

The air froze around us. My heart sang, and blossomed, and burned, and all these emotions excited me. The usual color on Simon's face darkened to a bleeding rose while he pressed his fingers to where the kiss still stung. 

Slowly, he met my gaze with honey in his eyes. "What was that for?"

It was hard to hold his gaze when he reacted like that. Although a kiss was an ordinary gift to give to those one cared for, I felt embarrassment swell in me. 

I leaned back. "I'm glad you're here. And that you're my friend."

Simon melted. "Me too."

In companionable quiet, we watched the lake for a while. A few birds swam on the surface, diving their heads into the water to catch fish. They flapped their wings joyously when successful and flew away to feed their families. Even the creatures beneath us had families. Ones they wanted to care for and protect. And they got defensive when something harmed their own. Retaliation was only a last resort. 

Humans were the same way. 

Simon bumped my shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

Smiling, I gestured to the lake. "I told you I'd teach you how to fish."

"And who taught you? Do they have an academy for those kinds of things over there?" he inquired, helping me to my feet. 

"Not quite." My sigh was quiet but expressive to anyone who listened to the wind that carried it. My smile, however, remained. "My brother taught me how."

Curious brows rose above Simon's eyes. "You didn't tell me you had a brother." He rolled the length of his pants until it reached just below his knees. "Is he older than you?"

Calmly, I approached the water, dipping my feet in again. "He would have been seventy-one this coming fall."

Deeper into the water now, Simon cast a withering look over his shoulder. It weakened me, and I offered a sad smile that had his face falling. 

"Your brother then…did he pass away?"

A nod. "He did."

His brows pulled tight. And anguish manipulated Simon's features. Petals of sorrow and regret floated across the expressive lake his eyes were. It wasn't an expression that could be feigned or imitated. Only one who'd truly been debilitated by loss could create it. Simon's current frown left me ill and curious about who he'd lost in the famished human world. 

"You'll see him again. One day." His words were confident, but I didn't miss the note of despair beneath them.

I stepped forward. "Elves are immortal—"

"Nothing lasts forever. Not even you will, Ruith." 

He'd said that gently, which minimized the impact of the blow. However, my skin itched, and I couldn't help feeling offended. Despite what my brother had believed, elves lived forever. Death only loved those who were too weak to continue existing, my father would say. 

In a whisper, Simon added, "You could see your brother any time you wanted."

"Maybe I could," I admitted reluctantly. "But for now, I'd rather be here with you…and you here with me."

My heart stung when Simon pulled his gaze away from me. And achingly—undesirably, he muttered to me, "One day, you'll lose me too."

I housed a startled heart in my chest, and it jolted inside me. It knew to escape before the disease of pain and fear could reach it, but I did not let it go. What Simon had spoken was the truth. One day, he would die of old age if he was fortunate. But it was likely before then that a disease or another unfortunate factor would prematurely end his life. Stop it. Don't think about it. It was already debilitating and heart-rending to imagine. 

Wanting to desperately flee this conversation, I furthered into the water. 

With my magic, I created a braided thread with a hook at the end. I couldn't bring myself to eat meat or harm animals, but Elion had taught me that there'd be too many fish in the lake if we didn't fish occasionally. So that's what I had done. Carrying out my brother's lessons. Fishing every once in a while and leaving food for bears. 

Now I had someone else to leave food for. 

To Simon, I offered the thread.

He studied it a moment before accepting. "What should I do?"

"Wrap a portion around your index finger. Then throw the line far out, let it sit, and slowly pull it in."

He obeyed, tossing the line far and waiting. We could only wait together quietly as the gloom of our earlier conversation misted in the air around us, making this moment awkward. But then the line tugged on Simon's finger, and he slowly reeled it in. Joyously, he raised his first fish. And instantly, his face brightened while the wind blew away any apprehensive creases. He untangled the fish and tossed it to land. 

My glee for him radiated in my smile. "Even when I'm not here, you can fish whenever you'd like. This forest is yours just as much as mine, so use its resources to feed your family."

Simon's eyes traced the glittering thread between his fingers. And he met me. "Thank you, Ruith. For being so considerate."

My breath escaped me. For it had been Simon who'd considered me first. He had unknowingly watered me with purpose, and now I flourished with the excitement of having someone to experience the world with. It was because of our first encounter I was so grateful to be alive now. 

This is the least I can do for you.

Dazzling, grateful, and bright, Simon's puppy-like eagerness was. "I wish my family could meet you. They're good people, and you're…well, you're just amazing, Ruith."

I, too, desired to meet the people he loved. I wanted to be accepted and acknowledged as his friend, but that could not happen. 

So I hummed an agreement to quiet my longing and crouched to dip my hands into the water. "In perfect worlds, we wouldn't have to hide each other from our families. But those aren't the worlds we live in."

Thoughtfully, Simon held me with his gaze. Unusual shyness coated his fingers as he fidgeted with the thread. "I hope I live long enough to see a better world. I want everyone on this side to know how special you are."

"As long as you know, isn't that enough?" I asked wholeheartedly, stuck in time as I looked into his eyes. The green around his irises flared sincerely. 

He considered my answer, and then he smiled at me. "You're right. Knowing you is more than enough."