Chapter Six

Idris woke up the next morning with the quiet warmth of Tam’s body pressed against his back. The remnants of the night’s slumber still clung to him, and the sensation of being tangled with Tam—a comforting weight, an unspoken closeness—lingered in his mind. His arm, which had somehow ended up draped over Tam’s chest during the night, was now painfully aware of the intimacy of the situation. He was almost embarrassed to have woken up in such a way, not used to sharing a bed with anyone, let alone in such an affectionate and unguarded manner.

Trying his best to avoid disturbing the other man, Idris gently edged back to his side of the bed. He winced as he moved, but tried to do so as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake Tam. He wasn’t ready for any awkward conversation just yet. But fate had other plans, as Tam shifted with a soft grunt, instinctively scooting back toward Idris as if in search of the warmth he had lost. Idris froze, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t know what to do, feeling caught in the strange, delicate moment between sleep and wakefulness.

With no other option, he cleared his throat softly, and it seemed to do the trick. Tam stirred, blinking groggily and slowly opening his eyes. “Sorry,” Idris muttered quickly, trying to defuse any tension, “I ended up on your side of the bed.”

Tam’s response was a sleepy, nonchalant yawn. “I do not mind,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Relief washed over Idris, and for the briefest moment, he felt a flash of warmth. At least Tam wasn’t going to make this weird.

Idris hesitated for a moment before offering, “Feel free to push me away if it happens again.”

Tam shook his head slowly, his eyes still half-closed as he yawned again. “It is rather comforting,” he murmured, the words so simple, yet so… easy. Comfortable.

Idris blinked, surprised by the response. It wasn’t like anything he had heard before. His last boyfriend had once described him as a “sloth” for clinging too much, and another had called him a “limpet” for his neediness. Neither term had ever felt flattering. Yet here was Tam, speaking casually, even fondly, of the closeness. Idris could almost feel himself relax at the mere suggestion that Tam didn’t mind. Maybe he wasn’t such a burden after all.

He felt an odd sense of pride in that, a small victory that he hadn’t expected to feel. With a grin, Idris rolled out of bed, stretching out his limbs. “Well, I’ll make sure not to invade your personal space again. Promise.”

Tam chuckled lightly, still lounging comfortably, and Idris smiled to himself. After a few moments of quiet, he quickly dressed, settling into his usual jeans. Tam had already offered him a fresh shirt, and Idris didn’t think twice about accepting it. The tunic was plain, almost unremarkable, but it was a surprisingly soft fabric, woven finely, and with no elastic to stretch or bind. Idris didn’t even mind the open neck; he left the ties undone, thinking it silly to try to impress anyone in a place like this. He was probably never going to see Tam again after their week together, after all.

But as he stood before Tam, waiting for some kind of response, he saw Tam’s approving gaze lingering on him. “It suits you,” Tam said, and for a moment, Idris wasn’t sure how to take it. It was a simple compliment, but the way Tam’s eyes lingered on the open triangle at the neck made Idris’ pulse quicken just slightly.

“Does it?” Idris said, his voice unsure but quietly pleased. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to look good in the tunic—part of him didn’t, and yet, there was something oddly satisfying in the way Tam seemed to appreciate it. When Tam’s eyes drifted away, his expression thoughtful, Idris allowed himself a quiet smile.

That was the thing about Faerie, Idris mused to himself. Nothing here seemed simple. Even the smallest things held weight, even moments of mere words. But maybe that was part of the charm.

The day ahead promised more exploration. They were heading to one of Faerie’s famed musical waterfalls, a place where the rush of water created an ethereal sound like no other. Tam had spoken of it with such reverence that Idris couldn’t wait to see it with his own eyes. They mounted Grey after breakfast, and Idris felt an oddly possessive sense of pride in the fact that he had introduced Tam to the concept of sandwiches. It wasn’t much, but it felt good to share something so mundane yet comforting with someone from another world.

Tam had packed a roll of parchment for him, along with a beautifully varnished wooden tray to rest on. He also had the faerie equivalent of a pencil—basically a strip of cloth wrapped around a core of lead, which Idris was instructed to unwrap as needed. It was a novel concept, one that made him appreciate the peculiarities of the world he was in. Idris had every intention of using the time to sketch, the perfect way to lose himself in the serene ambiance while Tam meditated to the sounds of the waterfall.

“Would you mind if I wandered?” Tam asked, as they reached the edge of the waterfall, his voice pulling Idris from his thoughts.

“Not at all,” Idris said, offering a smile. “Take as long as you need.”

Tam nodded, a slight smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Simply call if you need me,” he said. “I will not be far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Idris assured him, his hands already reaching for his parchment. “Honestly, there’s only so much trouble I can get into with a pencil.”

Tam rolled his eyes at the playful comment, the gesture so human, so unexpectedly endearing, that Idris couldn’t help but laugh. He almost thought he imagined it, until Tam winked at him.

“Very well. I shall leave you to it. And Idris, do not—”

“Don’t drink the water,” Idris interrupted, already anticipating the warning.

Tam’s lips quirked up at the corners. “I was about to tell you not to worry if you wear through your pencil, as I packed more in my bag, but I am glad you have been listening to me.”

Idris chuckled. “I’m a quick learner.”

Tam smiled, eyes lingering on him, as though he had something more to say, but then, with a soft shake of his head, he turned and walked off.

“Oh, and Idris?” Tam called back, pausing a few steps away.

Idris looked up from his parchment. “Yes?”

“Do not drink the water.”

Tam was smirking, and Idris, grinning at the playful remark, balled up a piece of parchment and threw it at Tam’s head. Tam dodged the paper effortlessly, and before Idris could throw another, he was already laughing and running off, leaving Idris with a smile that wouldn’t fade.

There was something mischievous in Tam, a trickster hidden beneath the surface. Idris couldn’t help but wonder how his friends would react to meeting someone like him. Owen would probably be lost in one of Tam’s labyrinths in minutes, and Addison might actually enjoy the challenge.

Idris shook his head, letting go of the image of Tam laughing with his friends. He knew it was an impossibility, just a fleeting thought that could never be. They didn’t have long together, and once the week was over, everything would return to its rightful place. e moment.

Idris tried to focus on his sketching, desperate to distract himself from the strange hollow pit in his stomach that had formed at the thought of leaving Tam behind. He tried to ignore the bittersweet sensation that seemed to grow with every passing moment as the day wore on. He drew a few practice lines with the faerie pencil, testing the flow of the lead, and then dove into the scene before him. He started with the curve of the pool under the waterfall, tracing the soft, gentle arcs of water as it cascaded down. He filled in the details of the cliff behind the waterfall, its jagged edges softened by the lush greenery that seemed to pulse with vibrant life. The trees, tall and ancient, obscured the horizon, their silhouettes barely visible through the mists rising from the foamy waters below.

With a steady hand, Idris began to add more elements to the scene—the bubbling foam at the base of the waterfall, the moss-covered rocks scattered along the water's edge, the faint outline of distant trees. Yet, as he focused on the details, something began to nag at him, a strange sensation, a prickling feeling at the back of his neck. He paused mid-line, his pencil hovering just above the parchment.

Something was watching him.

Instinctively, he glanced toward the water. For a moment, he saw nothing but the steady flow of the stream and the shimmering surface of the pool. But then, just as his pencil began to move again, the water shifted, and something rose from it, breaking the stillness with an unsettling, slow motion.

Idris froze, eyes widening as a shape emerged from the depths. It was a creature, a strange, seaweed-covered horse, but it wasn’t just any horse. Its coat was a deep, murky green, and it was slick with seaweed that seemed to writhe in the water like tendrils of a living plant. The creature was small—no bigger than a pony—but its eyes gleamed with an unnerving intelligence, and its mouth stretched into a grotesque grin, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

“Hello,” the horse said, its voice smooth but oddly hollow. “Are you edible?”

Idris’s blood ran cold. He had grown up being taught to recognize all kinds of red flags, from bad relationships to shady dealings, but this… this was a new one. His parents had never warned him about strange, seaweed-covered horses with sharp teeth asking if he was edible. He felt the pit in his stomach deepen, the sudden realization that he was well out of his element sinking in. This wasn’t just an odd creature; this was something dangerous.

With a sharp breath, Idris quickly edged away from the water’s edge, trying to move calmly despite the rush of adrenaline surging through him. He had no idea what to do. There was a hungry, monstrous horse approaching him, and instinct told him neither running nor fighting would be useful. In fact, it seemed downright foolish. He glanced behind him at the nearest tree—there was a sturdy branch just out of reach. Could he climb? Horses couldn’t climb, could they?

Then again, horses didn’t talk either, he grimly reminded himself.

The creature waded closer, its hooves splashing in the shallow water as it advanced. “You sound edible,” it said, its voice drawing closer as it took another slow step forward.

Idris’s mind raced. “Stay back,” he said, raising a hand in warning, but he wasn’t sure whether it would even understand. He had to try something. His heart pounded in his chest as his fingers fumbled for something, anything, to defend himself. His rings were silver, his phone was likely aluminum… his belt buckle? Could it be iron?

He reached down, yanking the leather belt from his jeans and swinging the buckle in his hand, hoping that somehow, someway, this would work.

“This is iron,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster, holding the belt out in front of him. “Stay back.”

The kelpie—Idris could tell now it was some sort of faerie horse—stopped moving, its eyes narrowing in suspicion. It studied the belt carefully, considering the claim.

“That seems like a lie,” it said, not backing away.

“Do you want to risk it?” Idris shot back, his voice sharp as he tightened his grip on the belt. He wasn’t sure if it would actually work, but at this point, he had little choice.

The horse raised a leg, poised as if to step forward, and Idris felt the tension spike. His fingers tightened on the belt, praying it would hold up long enough for him to escape. The creature seemed to weigh its options carefully, its eyes flicking back to Idris with unnerving focus. He didn’t dare to blink.

Suddenly, a voice called out. “Idris?”

Idris’s head snapped around at the sound of Tam’s voice. Relief flooded through him as he turned to see the faerie standing just a few paces away, his brow furrowed with concern but softening as his gaze fell on Idris. Tam’s eyes then flicked to the horse, and Idris saw his expression change—sharp, wary, protective.

“George, were you attempting to eat my husband?” Tam’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was used to dealing with this kind of nonsense.

The kelpie—George, apparently—seemed to shrink back, looking abashed in a way only a seaweed-covered, monstrous horse could. “I was only enquiring,” George said, his tone almost sheepish as he took a step back into the water. “I get so few opportunities to eat anything interesting.”

Tam’s voice was firm as he responded. “Idris is not for eating.”

“Not even a nibble?” George protested, still inching away but clearly dissatisfied.

Tam gave him a sharp look. “George.”

The kelpie sighed dramatically, flipping its seaweed mane out of its eyes. “Very well,” it muttered, sounding put out, “Save him for yourself.” And with that, it sank back into the water, the surface bubbling for a moment before it stilled again, leaving only ripples in its wake.

Idris stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. His chest heaved as the adrenaline still buzzed through his body.

“I am not going to eat you,” Tam said quickly, walking toward Idris with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s only that George is a kelpie, and they often cannot fathom not eating people.”

Idris let out a shaky breath, still trying to calm himself down. “Not even a nibble?” he teased, the tension easing just a little now that the immediate danger had passed.

Tam’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Perhaps a lick,” he said with a wink.

Idris blinked, a small laugh escaping him. “You’re serious?”

Tam nodded, though his eyes gleamed with a playful light. “It’s true,” he said. “A kelpie’s nature is to feed on flesh, but they can sometimes make exceptions for… more delicate tastes.”

Idris couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “I think you need to write me a handbook,” he said, half-laughing.

Tam chuckled. “I will make sure to include instructions on kelpie avoidance.”

Idris shook his head as he threaded his belt back through his jeans, suddenly aware of how frazzled he was. He had barely been threatened with being eaten by a mythical creature, and already he was trying to make light of it. But as he sat down to catch his breath, the pulse of adrenaline finally started to fade. His heart had raced for so long that he didn’t realize how much it had worn him out until now.

He tried to return to his drawing, but he found that his focus had shifted. Even though he had intended to capture the landscape, the outline of Tam’s profile began to emerge on the page, a sketch of his proud nose, the way his hair fell in soft strands across his forehead. It was subtle at first, just a few stray strokes, but the more he sketched, the more he couldn’t help but add little details—his hands, broad and calloused, the way he carried himself with quiet confidence. Even the air seemed to change when Tam was near.

“May I see what you have drawn?” Tam’s voice broke into Idris’s thoughts, pulling him from the page. Idris blinked, surprised to find Tam had moved closer, his gaze warm as it lingered on the sketches Idris had made.

Idris looked down at his collection of drawings, his heart racing with uncertainty. He’d been working on these sketches for days, his mind constantly shifting between ideas and revisions. But as he gazed at the pile of parchment before him, one drawing stood out—a rough cartoon, vibrant with both humor and a touch of absurdity. It depicted a hideous, monstrous creature chasing the Faerie Queen, her crown askew as the beast’s enormous, sharp teeth snapped hungrily at the hem of her delicate skirt. The scene was exaggerated, even comical, yet there was something about it that felt like a quiet rebellion—his own way of reclaiming a little piece of the fantastical world he’d found himself in.

After a long moment of hesitation, Idris decided it was the only one he felt comfortable sharing with Tam. He reached for the drawing, holding it out to him.

Tam’s eyes widened when he saw the picture, and for a brief moment, his expression was frozen in stunned silence. Then, without warning, he burst into laughter. It wasn’t the soft chuckle Idris had grown accustomed to or the quick burst of amusement that occasionally escaped Tam’s lips. No, this was different. This was a laugh that shook Tam’s whole body, one so deep and genuine that it made his eyes water. Soon, the laughter devolved into snorting, the sound echoing through the air like an uncontrollable force.

It was the kind of laugh that resonated in Idris’s heart, sending ripples of warmth and lightness through his chest. He had never heard Tam laugh like this before. The sound was rich, full of life, and as the echo of it faded, Idris realized that it filled him with a sense of ease he hadn’t even known he was seeking. The rushing of the waterfall, though beautiful, was nothing compared to the music of Tam’s laughter. It was pure, unrestrained, and far more alive than any melody could ever be.

“You cannot show this to anyone,” Tam said, finally managing to compose himself. His voice still held the remnants of his laughter, his chest heaving with each breath.

“Do you not think the Queen would like it?” Idris asked, half-smiling, curious to see if Tam might agree.

Tam snorted again, wiping tears from his eyes. “She would hate it. But it is truly marvelous.”

Idris held the drawing out toward Tam. “Have it,” he said simply, his voice warm with the gesture.

Tam hesitated, his hands hovering over the parchment, before he finally reached out to take it. “I shall treasure it,” he said, his tone unexpectedly sincere.

The weight of the drawing in Tam’s hands seemed to make the moment feel more real, more permanent somehow, and for a fleeting instant, Idris felt a pang of longing.

“I’ll draw you another if you like,” Idris offered, his voice suddenly shy. “Anything you like.”

Tam thought for a long moment, his gaze focused on the cartoon before him. Then, after a while, he spoke, his voice quieter, almost wistful. “Would you draw my sisters?” he asked. “Not... not being chased by George or in any great detail, but perhaps something simple, just enough to remember both you and them in one drawing. I would consider myself fortunate if you could.”

Idris’s heart swelled with something close to affection, and he nodded immediately. “Yeah, of course.” He felt a sudden, powerful urge to reach across and rest his hand on Tam’s, to try and ground him with a touch, but before he could act on it, Tam had already folded the picture and slipped it inside his pack, breaking the moment between them. Idris took a deep breath and grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment, his fingers beginning to move instinctively as he sketched, trying to recall the way Tam’s sisters had looked—their smiles, their sorrow, the small details that made them who they were.

By the time they started making their way back to Tam’s house, Idris had already outlined the figures of Arlyn and Yuli, his page dotted with sketches of eyes, lips, and noses, all of which Tam had kindly critiqued. Over dinner, they exchanged stories of their childhoods, swapping tales of odd experiences, silly moments, and memories that made them both laugh in equal measure. As they crawled into bed that night, they continued their conversation, even as their words slowly devolved into sleepy mumbles and the occasional slurred sound. Idris didn’t even shift when he woke in the middle of the night, finding himself once again curled close to Tam, the familiar warmth of his body at his side. Instead, he simply nestled in closer, the soft tickling of the short hairs at the nape of Tam’s neck brushing against his nose, before drifting back into a contented sleep.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn spilled through the window, Tam stood up and, with a small smile, began teaching Idris how to wield a sword. Or, rather, he began with the basics—teaching Idris how to stand, how to hold himself without even touching a blade. When Idris finally grasped the basic stance, Tam handed him a real sword, the bronze blade gleaming faintly in the morning light. It was strange to him—Faerie swords were unlike anything Idris had seen before. The edges were sharper than steel, and the weight felt so different from any sword he had held back on Earth.

“That’s because these swords are meant to slice, not hack,” Tam explained with a knowing nod when Idris asked about the differences. “You must feel the weight of it, the flow of the blade. That’s the way.”

Idris nodded, adjusting his grip. “Feels lighter than I thought it would,” he remarked.

Tam gave a soft chuckle. “Because the metal is light. But the way you wield it—that is where the challenge lies.”

Soon, Idris found himself standing under Tam’s guidance, repeating movements and refining his technique. Tam’s patience was boundless, but Idris’s muscles began to ache as he moved through the drills. He had never realized how taxing it could be to wield a sword—he wondered if it might be easier if he added a workout regimen back on Earth. Maybe a few Aikido lessons, he mused as he wiped his brow.

“Good,” Tam said after a particularly exhausting round of swordplay, “We can leave it there for now.”

Idris, his arms heavy with exhaustion, looked at him, slightly surprised. “Already? I thought we were going to spar properly.”

Tam raised an eyebrow, his gaze playful yet challenging. “Do you want to fight me?”

Idris’s smile grew, and without hesitation, he answered, “Yeah. Not because I don’t like you,” he added quickly, suddenly aware of how literal Faeries could be about everything, “but because it’s good training.”

Tam’s smile deepened, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. It was the same expression he had worn yesterday by the waterfall—the same smirk that hinted at something mischievous.

And when Tam stepped forward, Idris realized just how out of his depth he was. The speed and fluidity of Tam’s movements were like nothing he had ever experienced before. His blade moved with a quickness that left Idris constantly on the defensive, barely managing to block or dodge the rapid barrage of blows. Tam was relentless, his strikes landing with precision, and Idris was quickly beginning to regret his earlier words. His ribs were sore, his arms heavy, and his pride... well, his pride was taking a beating, too.

“Was that what you were after?” Tam asked, stepping back, his sword raised as if signaling a break.

“Not quite,” Idris huffed, catching his breath. “I thought we were going to have a proper fight.”

“Then let’s have one,” Tam said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, the playful edge vanishing.

Idris lunged again, but this time, instead of retreating or trying to block each strike, he pressed forward, getting closer to Tam than before. Tam was momentarily thrown off, and in that brief instant of hesitation, Idris managed to land a solid hit across Tam’s torso, forcing him back a step.

But Tam wasn’t defeated. Far from it.

They continued their sparring, with Idris managing to land a few more glancing blows, but still, Tam seemed to be holding back. It wasn’t until their final engagement that something changed. Idris moved with more confidence, no longer just defending, but actively engaging. With a sudden movement, he tripped Tam up with a hook to the leg, sending the Faerie sprawling to the ground.

Idris barely had time to react when Tam grabbed his shirt and yanked him down with him. The two of them landed in a tangle of limbs, with Idris straddling Tam, his weight pressing down on the Faerie’s chest. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, the rush of adrenaline fading into something quieter, more charged. Tam’s breath came in quick, sharp gasps, and Idris found himself caught in the sudden intimacy of their proximity.

If they were in any other situation, Idris thought, he would have kissed him.

But he didn’t.

With considerable effort, Idris pushed himself up from the ground, his muscles protesting at the strain. He rolled over and collapsed beside Tam, staring up at the sky to distance himself from the temptation that lingered—a temptation he knew he couldn’t act on. The briefest thought of kissing Tam had threatened to derail him, but for now, he would focus on the physical relief his body craved instead.

“Well done,” Tam said after a long pause, his voice low, almost approving. “You fight better unarmed.”

Idris let out a strained laugh, his voice tired but appreciative. “Thanks. You fight better armed.”

Tam chuckled in response and kicked out his leg, sending a playful tap to Idris’s shin. Idris, too weary to retaliate with any strength, weakly nudged his foot back, but the gesture was half-hearted. The exhaustion was settling in, the cold sweat clinging to his skin, and the thought of a hot shower—rather than the icy streams they’d been using for the past few days—felt like a distant dream.

“I don’t suppose you have baths here, do you?” he asked, half-joking but genuinely hopeful.

Tam looked down at him, his smile widening. “We do,” he said, his voice suddenly lighter. “Many of the grottoes here have heated pools of water. I’m sure there’s one nearby. If you wish for something warmer than the river, of course.”

Idris’s heart lifted at the prospect. “That’s exactly what I wish for,” he said, sitting up quickly, eager. “Can we go now?”

Tam’s mouth twitched into a knowing smile. “We most certainly can. And we will.”

Without further words, Tam stood and whistled for his horse. Grey emerged from the trees moments later, as if summoned by magic. Idris had long given up questioning how Tam managed this, and with practiced ease, he hopped onto the horse’s back, his body settling against Tam’s as they set off.

Riding had become second nature to him now—though he was far more comfortable holding on while Tam took the reins, guiding the horse with effortless skill. Idris had even considered asking Kayla for another riding lesson in the future, but something made him think it wouldn’t be as enjoyable without Tam pressed up against him, the man’s voice narrating the world around them—birds, flowers, and trees all coming alive under his descriptions. The thought of riding in a barren paddock with nothing but Kayla’s strict instructions made him wince.