Past Midnight

Sadly, this didn’t last long. A few hours later (at about 3 A.M.) I heard a thump and was suddenly wide awake. Cautiously I crept out of my room and found the shirtless young man on the floor of the living room, apparently collapsed from the effort of trying to crawl towards the door.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, hurrying to him. “You’ll start bleeding again!”

He blinked until he recognized me. “Ashlyn, I have to get back. I can’t stay here.”

“Of course you can. Come on, I'll help you back onto the couch --”

“No. I can’t keep it up much longer. It’s too hard to concentrate with the pain.”

“Are you talking about the spell that makes you look like a human?”

He looked at me sharply, in panic. I smiled at him.

“It sort of faded in and out while you were asleep. Where do you need to go?”

“Home. It’s not that far, I have to get to there...”

“You can’t wait until the morning?”

“No. I should have been back hours ago.”

“I’ll try to help you get there. Hang on.” I padded back to my room and got my coat and shoes on. “Here!” I said, handing my cloak (it’s like a blanket except with a hood and a clasp at the neck to keep it on) to the young whatever-he-was. “You can keep this on, and then no one will see what you look like. It should make it easier.”

I helped him sit up and put the cloak on him, tugging the hood down.  “See? Now I can only see your mouth. You can change back if you want.”

For a minute or two he sat there, hunched over. “Ashlyn... how -- how can you accept me so easily? You don’t know anything about me.”

“Yes, I do. I know you can use some sort of magic, and that you're trying to keep up some kind of disguise, since your hair keeps changing colors while you're asleep or in pain, and finally, I know that you already knew my name back in that alley.” Rachel snored from the loveseat, making me jump. I lowered my voice and put my hands on his shoulders. “I know you saved my life. So as long as you need help, I’ll help you.”

He opened his mouth, and closed it again.

“Now come on. Let’s get you home.” I helped him to stand and pulled his right arm over my shoulders. “Just tell me where to go.”

We started walking towards the college campus, which was mostly uphill, and he grew heavier with each step. I had to put my arm around his hip instead of his side because it was too close to his wound. It was a chilly night, but with the cloak around us both it wasn’t too cold. The moon happened to be large and high above us, so we didn’t need a flashlight.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” I suggested. “You know, just to pass the time.”

He chuckled. “That would make the disguise useless, wouldn’t it?”

“I can’t see you anyway. Why don’t you tell me how you know me?”

“We’ve met before.”

“What? No. I’d remember that. Were you one of my mysterious childhood friends?”

He laughed and I made a few more ridiculous guesses. Somehow it felt very natural to walk with him like that -- to walk with and support a wounded not-human in the middle of the night. He smelt of blood and sweat, but also something else quite nice. Like a good spice...

“I really wish you could remember,” he said. “I really wish I could tell you anything.”

I looked at his face, half shrouded by the hood. “Why can’t you?”

“It’s the law.” he said flatly. “And I can’t break it.”

We fell silent after he told me to take a turn near the school library.

“It’s my fault!” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“It’s my fault that you were attacked. You shouldn’t thank me. I only got you in trouble and then tried to help you get out of it, and now I’m causing more trouble for you! I should never have come here!”

“Woah, take it easy!” I stopped, facing him. “How is it your fault that I got attacked by those two goblins?”

He just stood there with his head hanging down. “Because I kissed you. And then I let you go.”

From where we were standing, I could see a drop of water from the sprinklers slide off a blade of grass. Fragmented images returned to me, getting more and more clear. The dance, his hands, the kiss. He tried to stop me, but I pulled his hood down from his head.

He had a pale, slender face framed by long black hair (blowing dramatically in the wind, of course), and yes, purple eyes. He looked different than he did before (he was previously tanned and had short brown hair), but it was him. He looked at me sadly, and hesitantly bowed his head down so far that it touched my shoulder, as if he was afraid that I’d shove him away.

“I’m so sorry, Ashlyn.”

           My faery...