Ten: Bonding 

Before they began talking further about the plan, Mageus offered to bring Layre down into the steppes. He told him of a shallow, round pond that impossibly lived there. He brings him down a narrow valley path at the edge of the steppes. It goes for a while, and then it opens into a small, hollow clearing. There, the pond sits with dead vegetation and large, smooth stones at the edges of the clear water. 

It is quiet there, and nothing moves. 

“How does such a thing exist where it is so dry?” Layre asks now as they both settle on its side. Layre dangles his feet in the pond, sighing when the cool water aids his burning feet. Mageus shortly copies him, sitting only a few feet to his right. The gentle lapping of the water on the bank is now the only thing heard between the two.  

“It lives here because I made it so.” Mageus explains, and Layre’s brows raise with childish curiosity.  

“You made this?”  

“I did. Anima told me about the wonders of Iyelion. She told me of the Crying River and the red oak forest. I wished to make something similar for myself here.” Mageus says, his eyes shining.  

“I will take you to the Crying River and the red oaks. I will do so when I save you from your curse.” Layre declares confidently, staring at his reflection in the pond. His hair had grown to his shoulders now, but he quite liked it. It made him seem older than he truly was, more rugged. He wondered if Mageus would like that or not. He wanted to ask, but he stayed quiet.  

Mageus says nothing either, and when Layre looks to him after it had been silent for far too long, he realizes Mageus was staring right at him.  

“Is everything alright?” inquires Layre. He feels a hot embarrassment seep onto his face. Just how long had Mageus been staring? How had he not noticed sooner? 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Mageus hums, kicking his foot in the water. Layre watches the ripples it sends across the water’s surface. He cranes his head to the side, listening to a small blue bird who chirps loud, perching on a dead bush a few feet away. Mageus speaks up again, this time with a question for Layre “How was it you got that scar on your cheekbone?”  

Layre raises a hand to his face. He presses the pads of his fingers into his cheekbone. He feels the hard bone beneath his skin and the rough skin where the scar lived. It was an inch long, pale in color, hardly noticeable unless someone was searching for it. Which means, Mageus was really looking at him. He flushes, unsure of how to feel about that. 

“It is truly embarrassing. My friends from Iyelion and I were trying to climb one of the tallest red oaks. They could not get so far off the ground, but I had made it about a third up the trunk. I fell, of course, and hit my face along the trunk on the way down. I was lucky I did not lose my eye.” He laughs, and watches as Mageus’ mouth curls into a playful grin.  

“Your friends, what are their names?”  

“Olive and Adreian. I met them while I was in school. We trained together at the training school in Iyelion. We grew close to one another quickly.” When Layre says this, Mageus looks away. Layre understands it that something bothered him, but he was unsure of what. He only knew that he felt willing to say whatever would make him happy again. 

“I see.” Mageus says, drawing his arms over his chest. “You must be eager to get back to Olive, then?”  

Layre tilts his head, “What do you mean?”  

“I know that in Iyelion, it is traditional that couples be wedded in their youth. Surely, you should want to return soon so you can do so.” Mageus says, brows furrowed and face unreadable.  

Layre blushes red, flustered.  

“Oh, no! Olive and I, we are not together. It is her and Adreian who will be wedded soon.” Layre coughs nervously, watching intently as Mageus’ poutiness falters. His face settles into a calmer, more relaxed expression. 

“I see. I apologize for assuming such things, then.” He pauses, then asks “Is there another Iyelian lady you have your eyes on?”  

“I...” Layre looks away from Mageus. He cannot look at him as he says it. “I am afraid not. I am different to most. I do not find myself interested in women the way most men are.”  

Mageus allows the silence to grow between them. It is heavy and dense. Layre feels his palms grow sweaty. He starts fiddling with his fingers. Maybe he should not have admitted that out loud. It was a taboo thing, and maybe Mageus found it disturbing like many did. Maybe he would tell him to leave, and Layre was about to get up and do so when Mageus clears his throat.  

“I am the same way.” He admits, and Layre’s head snaps to stare at Mageus. He seemed nervous by the topic, too.  

“I had not known there were others like me.” rambles Layre, the nerves in his chest willing him to continue. “I thought myself broken. My friends often wondered many times why I had never mentioned a girl before.”  

“You are not broken.” Mageus is staring straight at him now. “It is this world that is broken.” 

A comfortable silence falls between them now, and the only thing that sounds is the small waves of the pond. Layre decides perhaps it is time to talk of the plan, or rather, the lack of it.  

“We have done a horrid job at discussing what it is you plan to do about my curse.” Mageus seems to be reading his thoughts, and Layre allows himself a small smile. “I suppose it is your company that distracts me so.”  

“It is not my intention.” Layre purrs, feeling warm in his chest.  

“You cannot help your good looks, dear.” Mageus fires back, a small grin growing on the side of his mouth. “In fact, I shall think when we finally do speak of your plan, you should face away from me so I may focus properly.” 

“Am I truly that distracting?” Layre teases. 

“It is your eyes. How did they get so bright like they are?” Mageus’ hands twitches, finding its place next to Layre’s in the pebbles. Their hands do not touch, but the promise of it drifts in the air.  

“They are my mother’s.” Layre says, somber now. Mageus offers him an empathetic glance. Layre appreciated it because he knew Mageus understood the feeling. 

“Well, they are beautiful.”  

“Thank you. I don’t think I have been complimented on them before. They are much too harsh, too bright, I find.” Layre rambles, feeling embarrassed at all the attention Mageus was giving him now.  

“Would you rather have mine? They are only putrid purple, oh, and they’ll bleed for you each night. I hope you are alright with such a horrid thing.” Mageus teases lightly, and it has Layre lifting his gaze back to Mageus. Mageus is staring at him with a goofy, ridiculous grin. 

Layre throws his head back, laughing at his theatrical expression. Mageus joins him a second later, and Layre thinks in this moment that he could stay here forever, by the small pond Mageus created, listening to nothing but his laugh and the ripples they send across the surface of the water with their feet.