When One Loves The Fae

Theodore loved faeries, and so I loved him. Not because he loved faeries—obviously, they weren’t real—but because of what loving something meant to him: adventure, devotion, borderline obsession. To the rest of the world, he was your typical college dropout, academically unmotivated, easily distracted. A never-man. Your classic Peter Pan. But he was just Theodore to me.

And I knew—trekking through these mountains, dusk on the horizon—that by the end of this wilderness excursion to “find the fae”, he would be mine. He would.

The rain fell over him in pellets, every drop yearning for the chance to shatter itself against his skin. Yet he merely pressed on, determined and seemingly oblivious to nature's pining.

I, on the other hand, waded through the underbrush after him, grumbling and shivering like a disgruntled chihuahua. All I wanted was a modest four-star accommodation and a firm lap to rest my head on. I was out of my element, but it felt amazing to have been invited into his.

"Hey, Theodore," I shouted into the wind. "How much further is it?"

"Shouldn't be much longer. According to the map, we're getting close," he said, rubbing under his pack at his shoulder blade, where his "phantom wings" resided.

Years ago, he swore that once he found the entrance to the fae realm, he'd get his real wings back. Though, in all the time I've known him, sneaking glances at the seaside or in the gym, I've noticed nothing more than a few thin scars and an almost crown-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder.

I couldn't deny that at times he could be a little nutty, but at least he was the kind of nutty that made the world feel larger, like it was stuffed full of secrets waiting to be revealed with just the tiniest cracking of one's perception of reality.

Trudging through the forest, and drenched as I was, I had to admit that there was something ethereal about being out here. I've never been one for the outdoors—techno music at the beach with a glass of champagne in hand was as "outdoorsy" as my life usually got. But Theodore had this way with me. He made me want to be a part of whatever next kooky adventure he embarked on, even if that adventure meant mud leaking into my shoes and leaves sticking to my hair.

"Riley, I found it! We’re here."

It didn't seem like we were.

"Uh, I know this is my first time doing this, but a dark cave to who-knows-where wasn't exactly what I had in mind when you invited me on a camping excursion to 'track down the fae.'" I stood eyeing the mountain’s maw, pummeled by the rain. "Shouldn't there be a campground, or at least a tent somewhere?"

"Fae don't live near campgrounds; they find them too noisy and tend to stay away." The matter-of-fact way those words tumbled from his mouth left me taut-jawed and blinking.

"Okay… So then, how are we supposed to survive out here—or stay warm, at least?" More than one solution crossed my mind, even as I watched a fully grown man pad around a cave floor on all fours, searching in every nook and cranny he could find for…something.

Was he really doing this?

"I didn't exactly say camping…"

"No. But you did invite me into the mountains with you, saying to pack an overnight bag and my mom’s wind chime. What else could I have thought that to mean?"

"You brought the wind chime!"

His face, beaming brighter than all the flashlights in the world, caused me to stumble and teeter on my heels. There was a sort of glow around him, and I found myself almost believing in a realm beyond our own. I wanted to throw my whole being at his smile.

“You asked me to bring them,” I said with a shrug and trying not to blush. “So, I did.”

Pulling the wind chime from my pack, I dangled it from my fingers. The evening breeze played a gentle tune in the swaying of its thin metal tubes.

Theodore jerked to his feet and took off running—dripping water and practically falling—towards me.

“It’s as beautiful as I remember.” He fished a small leather book, ratty with age, from the chest pocket of his jacket and leafed through its pages. Across and back, his finger slid along lines of text until finally he cast a glance at the crooked lips of the cave.

“There,” he said. “Hang it there in the middle of the cave’s mouth, then glance up and tell me if you can spot the moon through the clouds.”

I obliged, hooking the wind chime on a protruding rock overhead. When I glanced up, through a web of branches and the thinning clouds, I spotted it. The moon. It was full, casting the mountains in a milky blue hue. I paused to take in its majesty.

“Well?” His voice was more giddy-child than mountain-man.

“It’s there. Full and blue…”

Drops still spilled from the sky, though gentler now, seeing as they no longer had a desirable enough target to shatter themselves against. The night was resplendent, a watercolor masterpiece. I even caught a few stars peeking through, curious as I was to see what Theodore would do next. He was my kind of mystery, always keeping me on the margins of certainty—and on my toes.

“Just as the journal said…” Theodore spoke in a whisper, more to himself than to me. “That means…” He peered into the cave’s depth, glanced back at me, and then tore off into the unknown, shouting over his shoulder, “Come on!”

With a sigh and an endearing shake of the head, I laid my pack down next to his—nestled in a pool of moss and guarded by a smattering of small blue mushrooms—then took off into the darkness after him, instantly regretting that I had trusted he would pack the flashlight. More than once I thought I might have glimpsed his sinewy silhouette skipping rather than sprinting through the darkness. I didn’t bother suppressing a laugh.

As I ventured further, the light dwindled, and a chill enveloped me. An eerie murmur of voices spoke in my ear like caged whispers, nervous to be set free:

Tell him how you feel.

Tell him…

Don’t you want him to see you?

See you…

I did.

For years I’ve been a friend to Theodore. And not…

A friend doesn’t sneak quick glances in fleeting moments, unsure if not being found out would be worse than the alternative.

A friend doesn’t lie about not getting into college just to spend another year lost in some boy’s adventures.

A friend doesn’t toss and turn at night, wrestling with a thousand what-ifs, wishing they could chase away their own cowardice long enough to say how they really feel.

I wasn’t his friend because friends didn’t want more.

Theodore’s nutty, sure. But I had come to find that I enjoyed life better with a little crunch.

It dawned on me then… I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see anything.

“Riley!” Theodore’s voice echoed through the darkness, thrummed in my chest.

“Theodore?” I began moving in the direction of his voice, my hands outstretched in front of me, feeling for anything. For him. “Theodore, where are you?”

“Come a little further in. You should see a faint blue light soon. I’m right beside it. Think you can find me?” I heard his grin as he said that last part.

My response was a secret whispered only to myself: “There’s nothing that could keep me from you.”

Stumbling through the dark, the eerie voices came again:

Tell him…

Your feelings…

For him…

What was it about caves that played tricks on the mind?

I could, couldn’t I? Tell him…

The light was bright as I rounded the corner I hadn’t known was there. Theodore was practically bouncing beside a circle of large blue mushrooms, his eyes alight with intrigue and intensity, like a pirate who’s finally found his hallowed chest of gold.

“This is it,” Theodore said. The mushrooms protruded from small cracks in the cave wall, just about at his chest level—or my eye level. He read from his raggedy journal, bravado ringing in his voice: “When as one the full moon and mushrooms glow, and the night sings its breezy hello, come home to us, your light in the dark; your soul, to us, prepare to depart.”

“Theodore…” I said, trying to mask the panic bubbling in my stomach. “What’s going on? What are you reading?”

“I told you I’d find it—my home, the entrance to the realm of the fae.” His wide eyes were as haunting as they were beautiful. “This is it. I cracked the journal’s code. I knew it would lead me here. I spent weeks searching for this place, but then I thought of you.”

You thought of me?

“Riley, you’re my best friend. I don’t know if you ever really believed me or not, but it didn’t matter because you were always there, right beside me. You could have named me a lunatic and left me to my fantasies. But you didn’t. And I couldn’t leave this realm without letting you know that you have a choice, too. You could come with me, Riley. I’m asking you… Come with me.”

I didn’t understand the words pouring from his mouth, but the seriousness of his tone as he spoke unnerved me. If this was magic, it wasn’t like anything I had ever imagined. There was no gust of wind, the glowing mushrooms didn’t burst into stars; nothing changed. Wasn’t magic supposed to make things change?

He said I had a choice… Was that change enough?

“Theodore.” My voice wavered in my throat. “If I have a choice, then let it be this…”

His eyes were like blue fireflies, yet I was the one who yearned to be caught.

“I—I care about you. A lot. Whether you're a…” I gestured all around. “A faerie, or a pixie, or just Theodore… You make me want to be things I never dreamed I could. You have me out here like some kind of wilderness explorer in a freaking cave in the middle of the woods, probably getting high off the spores of these mushrooms, and yet there isn’t another place in this world I’d rather be.”

“How about another world?”

His smirk broke me, and I swooned.

“So,” he said, sounding at once the cockiest I’ve ever heard him and the happiest. “What are you gonna choose?”

There was never any choice.

“I wanna be with you.”