Don't Let Me Stand On My Own

Nuada stumbled. “You what?”
Lasair looked at him blissfully. “I love you!” He said again matter of factly, before simply adding. “Mortals!”
Nuadas’ heart was pounding, and then it plummeted, and he almost felt dizzy.
Lasair stepped towards him with a furrowed brow. “Are you alright, Nuada?” Then he stopped. “Oh… Can I still call you that?”
He steadied his breathing and nodded slowly. “Of course. I mean. You may. Yes.” He swallowed. “Please.”
Lasair beamed at him. “Good.” He said sweetly. “It’s a beautiful name, I think.”
Nuada felt winded again, but recovered quickly. “Come,” he said, “let’s make our way deeper into the woods where we’re safer.”

He felt heavy as he walked, while Lasair skipped along beside and ahead of him, seemingly weightless, like carried by his mirth. “Do you know those boys?” Lasair asked while taking in the canopy, gently brushing the leaves above them with his finger tips.
“I do.” Nuada said. “They're from the village just beyond the north ridge.”
“Are they your friends?”
“Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not friends with people who throw stones in fear.”
“Well, maybe they wouldn’t if they had you as a friend.”
Nuada's smile was honest but weak. “I don’t… I might not have any friends, in truth.”
“I’m your friend!”
It was too much, too quickly, and Nuada couldn’t take it anymore. “What about you?” He asked. “Where are your friends?”
“Oh! Well, the fireflies here are adorable,” he said matter of factly, “and I quite like the tree I was spending time with when you found me.”
Nuada shook his head. “You’re friends with the trees.” It was a statement, warm with reverence.
Lasair hummed a reply nodding. “Oh my yes. None have better stories than the trees. My best friend used to be a tree! Though, she prefers to hear stories than recite them herself. So, she tells me what she’s seen, and I turn it into prose!” He fluttered about Nuada as he spoke.
“What’s she called?”
“Mimori.”
Nuada faltered. “Meemah… pardon?”
“Mi! Mo! Ri!” He danced on each syllable.
“I’ve never heard a name like that. It’s very nice, though.”
“She’s rather like you, I think!” Lasair said brightly.
Nuada wasn’t sure where the question came from, but it was easy to ask. “What kind of tree was she?”
“A willow tree!”
And Nuada felt a joyful melancholy that almost made him break right there.

They arrived back at the glade, and Lasair drew golden shapes in the air, and an archway made of light bloomed around him.
He looked back at Nuada, his lithe figure illuminated and silhouetted, and smiled so purely. “See you in a few days!”
“Tomorrow.” The word escaped Nuada in a hurry. “I would like to see you tomorrow. If you can. If you would like.”
“Is tomorrow special?” He asked eagerly.
Nuadas’ chest felt tight. “No.” He said flatly.
Lasair just shrugged. “Well. Okay. I’ll come anyway.” The light flared a bit, and began to fade. “Tomorrow, then!” He added in sincerity, and innocence.

“I love you, Nuada!”

When the light dimmed to nothing Lasair was gone, and Nuada stared at the space he’d just been until the image of him that had singed itself into his eyes had faded away.
Even then… he didn’t leave. Sleep came quickly after such a long day. He was still asleep when Lasair returned, and he didn’t wake him. He went about the glade collecting wildflowers, and adorned Nuadas sleeping figure, humming sweetly to himself.
Nuada pretended to stay asleep for just a little while before opening his eyes and smiling gently.