⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The walk from Terrence's cottage to Aiden's temporary home took a few hours longer than it normally would. The half-nymph noticed he was a little bit distracted, as he kept missing a few of his turns. In all honesty, the only way he got himself to remember was by writing a note on his arm with the thick brown mud on the pathway there.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Eventually, he arrived at the worn brick home as the sun was just beginning to set. Like every other building in those parts, the walls were covered with wild moss and vines of ivy. Aiden didn't mind the condition it was in too much, considering he was only renting it from an elf for a few months to research native marine wildlife. Besides, it was the only home he could find that was merely a hundred feet from a river.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sighing, he grabbed the ring of keys he had hidden under the doormat and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, he returned the keys and headed inside to the familiar smell of lilies and lotuses.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'Alright, I've got to get packed for tomorrow... What exactly would I need?' he pondered for a moment, scratching the top of his head. Glancing at his muddied arm and the dirt-covered shawl over his shoulder, he figured he should work on getting those cleaned up before worrying about anything else.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀With a determined stride, he headed over to the bathroom and grabbed a fairly large bucket, a bar of soap and a scrubbing board, and made his way outside once more. The moment he stepped through the door, he could hear the brook bubbling and flowing steadily through the trees toward the ocean. Thinking about the sandy beaches and salty waves he would soon gaze upon with his newfound friend, a sweet smile spread across his lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As he knelt down beside the river, dipping the bucket in and filling it near to the brim with cool water, his mind wandered ever farther. He found himself reminded of the Meadow Elf's beautiful garden as he admired the plants sprouting from the earth, and the pale orange sun reflecting off of the water perfectly matched the color of his eye.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Letting out a content sigh, Aiden set the near-overflowing bucket beside him on the bank and dipped his mud splattered arm into the cold stream, scrubbing the mess away with his palm. Satisfied with his work, he picked up the tub and headed back to the cottage.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pushing the door shut behind him with his foot, he dropped the bucket of cold water on the cobblestone floor next to the fire pit. Quickly wiping the sweat from his brow, he grabbed a few logs from the woodpile in the corner of the small room, set them in the pit and lit them with a match. As he waited for a few coals to start burning, he went back to preparing his bags for his upcoming travels.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hurrying over to his bedroom area, he grabbed a pale aqua colored satchel from on top of the petite birch dresser. It was a little bit tattered from frequent use, but it held up nicely considering the amount of luggage the half-nymph always shoved in its fabric pouches. Pulling open a few drawers here and there, he piled a few sets of clothes on his unmade bed, as well as a few feather quills and a bottle of ink to record his research.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hearing a faint crackling noise from the other room, he paused for a moment to check on the fire. When he went back into the living room, he found it burning steadily, the perfect height and the perfect temperature to warm the water for his laundry. He set the bucket over the flames gently, watching carefully as it began to steam.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Slipping his shawl into the lukewarm water, he covered it in a thin film of soap and began to scrub away at the dirt and grime until it was gone. Then he wrung it out until it was damp and hung it on a thin wire above the fire. Once that was done, he emptied the bucket outside and packed his clothes into his satchel.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Now there was only one thing more that he needed — his journal, the sacred book with all of his research and all of his ideas. How could he go on an epic quest to find a Hippocampus without that? Wracking his brain, he tried to recall where he had left it. Although he hated to admit it, he wasn't the most organized person, and he usually just left his belongings scattered about the house.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Realizing that trying to remember where he had thrown the journal was a pointless endeavor, he settled on searching all throughout every nook and cranny of the quaint cottage. He shifted through the drawers of his dresser, then his desk, and then his bookshelf. Having no luck there, he checked under the pillows on his bed. Still turning up nothing, he checked the other rooms of the house, starting with the living room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀While he scoured around for the journal, he wondered if Terrence was having any trouble finding the proper supplies to bring on their trip in his own home. From the glimpses he got earlier in the day, everything of the Meadow Elf's was rather organized, so he quickly dismissed the likelihood of any frantic searching ensuing there. Still, he wondered how he was doing or what he was thinking about. He especially wondered if he might have been thinking about him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Finally, once he came into the kitchen, he discovered his journal on the cluttered wooden table. Letting out a sigh of relief and releasing all of his pent up stress, he held the book in his hands and flipped through the tattered yellowing pages. He smiled fondly as he thought back to the day he wrote each scribbled note or drew each rough sketch. Some of them were from many moons ago, when he was merely a child.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Aiden had received the old notebook from his father who studied mythical creatures himself. In fact, that was how he met his mother, a very sassy water nymph. His father had left him all sorts of good luck letters throughout the pages, and he would often go back and look at them whenever he needed some emotional support.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Now, he was subconsciously searching for one note in particular. Scanning carefully over every page, his heart had only one question — what was he feeling? For the past few hours, he couldn't shake the image of Terrence's smiling face out of his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about how his mauve skin shone in the sunlight, or how his half-shaved side swept hair blew in the wind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As his thoughts began to confuse him, Aiden finally landed on the page he had been looking for. In his father's small, curly script were the words,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'You'll know when you've fallen hard for someone. It's hard to understand your own feelings, but when it comes to love, you know without a shadow of a doubt what your emotions mean. You feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you're around them, you never want to stop talking with them, you always want to be by their side, and even when you're far apart, they're the only thing on your mind. Love is a strange thing, and as such, it works in strange ways. Nevertheless, we must hold on to love when we find it, and we must nurture it so it might grow into something even more beautiful. Don't be afraid to love.'

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Aiden stared at the words written in bold ink for a moment, evaluating his emotions, comparing them to his father's experience, and hoping that, just this once, he wasn't right. A troubled look on his face, he shook his head and closed the book.  'It's getting late, I should go ahead and get some rest,'  he thought, quietly walking back to his bedroom, the hefty journal tucked under his arm.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Flopping down onto the soft mattress, he sat and stared at the ceiling in silence. Just as before, the only thing that made its way through his mind was that stupid Meadow Elf.  'Oh my God, Aiden,'  he thought, frustrated.  'You just can't stop falling for random guys that smile at you one time, can you? Not to mention he's probably straight as a ruler!'

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Burying his face in his pillow, he tried to think of any possible way to debunk his crush.  'You're just friends. That's all you're ever going to be. You're just going to have to live with that, and the sooner you accept it, the better.'

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Grumbling, he sat upright once more and looked back at the advice his father had left him. On another page, he had written,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'At first, it's a very terrifying thing, to think that you've already given your heart to someone you hardly even know. You don't know if they'll break it, put it back together again, or give it all the care in the entire world. Although it may be scary, you cannot give up. You will only find the answer to that question if you try. Besides, having a temporary broken heart is worth the knowledge you gain.'

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀No matter how much he wanted to deny it, Aiden couldn't hide from the truth. He knew it deep down even before reading the journal. In fact, he had known it since he dragged the drunken elf home the previous night. And to think at first he wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He couldn't help but laugh at the irony.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Smiling gently, he picked up one of the feather quills from his bed and dipped it into the ink pot. Flipping the journal to an empty page, he wrote in small, soft letters three very powerful words:  'I love him.'

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Tucking the book into his satchel, he headed off to bed.

※ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀※ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀※

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Terrence watched Aiden's retreating figure from his window until it was a mere speck in the distance, his head tilted curiously. He realized they had been talking for nearly two hours after glancing at his rare sundial flower, which spread its petals depending on the time of day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'That is so strange,' he thought, stroking the flower's delicate golden leaves. 'It hardly felt like thirty minutes, yet it's clearly been much longer than that.' Shrugging his shoulders, he figured, 'Oh well, I guess time flies by when you're having fun, hm?'

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Setting any preparations for the next day aside, he began to head around the house and care for all of the plants he had scattered about. Excitedly, he hurried outside to a little wooden shack just left of the front door. Above the entranceway, a tiny sign hung down with the words 'Garden Tools' carved into it, and below that, intricate patterns of pink roses adorned the grainy surface.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pushing open the door, he grabbed all of the supplies he could carry, including a watering can, a pouch of fertilizer, a box of dead crickets and flies, and one more tiny pouch made of shiny opalescent fabric. Before he could head out to nurture his wide array of exotic plants, however, he needed to physically fill the watering can. His eagerness had nearly made him forget that. Laughing at himself, he dipped the watering can into the natural well inside the shack, filling it to the top. Now he was ready to go out to his garden, his arms full of planting materials.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Terrence's first stop was Cecilia, the only Venus flytrap he had ever grown and one of his most prized plants. Setting the bundle of supplies in his arms on the dusty path, he carefully took one of the crickets out of the tiny wooden box and set it inside the bright scarlet leaves, watching with a bright eye as the trap shut tightly around the insect. Ever so delicately, he squeezed the two lobes together with his fingers a few times to ensure that the plant would digest its food and remain healthy. Then he lifted the watering can over the soil and sprinkled it with tiny droplets.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Before moving onto the next budding flower in the garden, he opened the opalescent pouch and dusted the earth with a pinch of the clear powder inside. Inside that bag was the key to a Meadow Elf's successful gardening. The powder was enchanted by a mage, allowing a plant to survive months without needing supplemental water or nutrients, although it never hurt them to have more than they needed. Thanks to that, Terrence wouldn't have to constantly worry about how his plants were doing, and he wouldn't need to hire someone who might lack the proper skills to take care of them for him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He continued to travel around his garden, nurturing his plants and calling them all by the names he had given them when they were first planted. He stopped by Ruby, his white rose, and smelled the sweet scent wafting up from the leaves. He trimmed the dying buds off of Genevieve, his orange hydrangea bush. He plucked the ivy off of Dakota, the young evergreen tree he had planted last winter. As he made sure every last plant was taken care of, he noticed a lone wildflower growing in the corner of the garden. Upon closer examination, the pale blue flower appeared to be a blue gilia. Admiring the beautiful coloration of the plant, he decided he would name it Aiden.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Returning all of his supplies to the toolshed, Terrence went back inside to start packing the necessities for the next few months. In all honesty, he had estimated that they would only be gone until September, which was five months into the future. Still, he was somewhat doubtful of his estimations being the slightest bit close to reality, so he concluded he should bring with him his emergency stash of silver coins just in case the trip took longer than he expected. Also a little uncertain of whether or not Aiden had any cooking experience to his name, the elf took a few small pots and pans from the kitchen, as well as a few of his favorite homegrown spices, and stuffed them in a large brown sack. Cushioning them with his clothing, he tied the bag shut and slung it over the dark wooden chair in front of his desk.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Glancing up, he noticed a solitary book on top of his desk.  'Shouldn't you be on my bookcase?'  he wondered, picking it up in his hands and brushing away the thick layer of dust shrouding the crimson cover. When the cloud of dirt had finally subsided, he could not help but gaze in awe and shock at the elaborately hand sewn pattern. In the left corner was a dark willow tree made from chocolate colored thread, its draping leaves a mix of moss, emerald, and olive green. Sitting cross legged underneath the ancient tree sat a young Meadow Elf, a pink and purple orchid in their outstretched hands. A river of aqua and ice blue flowed through a mountain range in the distance, a perfect sanctuary for a soul fleeing from their troubles.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Though it took him a few moments, Terrence finally recognized the old tome as his forgotten childhood scrapbook. Smiling fondly, he recalled the days when he would watch his mother sew the gorgeous scene onto the cover, watching it grow and take shape little by little. He remembered when she first gave it to him, and how excited he was to begin adding his own memories and stories on its yellowed pages filled with wisdom. He thought back to the cold winter days when he would lay on the floor in front of the fireplace, writing away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Having finished packing everything he thought he might ever need on a trip to find a rare Hippocampus, he figured he would relive those days, flipping through the well worn pages in front of a warm fire. He made his way back into the living room, humming the tune to a lullaby his mother would sing to him whenever he was having trouble falling asleep. Gently setting the scrapbook down onto the wooden armchair in front of the fire pit, he struck a match and lit the half burned logs already in the brick pit. As the flames began to flicker to life, he leaned back in the chair and relaxed, essentially for the first time in the span of twenty-four hours.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Stroking his fingertips along the lines of the thin stitches of the willow tree, he imagined himself as the peaceful Meadow Elf underneath its swaying branches, without a care in the world. He imagined what it would feel like to be free of burden, to feel like he had nothing to fear, to feel like he could be loved by others once again. Letting out a sigh, he flipped the book over to the first page, knowing that  he could not live in the perfect sanctuary that taunted him with its beauty.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀On the very first page was a sketchy portrait of his mother, his father, and himself when he was merely five years old. At that point in time, his long, drooping ears always dragged on the floor behind him. They were nearly the size of his entire body, and he could remember numerous occasions where he would accidentally trip on them and fall face first into the mud.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His mother had a sweet smile painted across her lips, her pale rose colored eyes giving him a sense of security and protection. His father looked as happy as ever, his ears perked up and his maroon eyes glittering with energy. Studying the detailed drawing, he felt the pain of regret tugging at his heart. Ever since he'd left home five years ago, he hadn't visited or even written to his parents about how his life was going now that he was out in the real world. He wondered if they ever tried to get into contact with him, or if they had assumed the worst considering his long silence. Then he found himself wondering if they would even accept him now that he had made a compact with a demon.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Desperately needing to to take his mind off of things, he continued to flip through the pages until he landed on one from his fourteenth birthday. That was the day he got his ceremonial elf tribe piercings, and the day he was officially old enough to take on the world. His right ear was adorned with one golden band above two round studs near the top, symbolizing 'summer light'. On the bottom of his left ear was one golden loop followed by two shining bands, which meant 'strong courage'. Earning those piercings was the right of passage for the Vistyn tribe, and it was his greatest achievement.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Continuing to flip through the well worn pages, Terrence eventually landed on the one celebrating Claire accepting his offer to be her's. The second his eye landed on her gently smiling face sketched in colorful ink, he wanted to slam the book shut and toss it into the fire — but he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't will himself to ruin so many good memories just for the sake of one bad one.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Besides, he knew it wouldn't do him any good. No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget her forest green eyes or her gorgeous olivine hair. He couldn't stop thinking about how things might have been different if he hadn't taken her out to the lake that evening. He wondered if they still would have been together, if he would still feel whole, or if he would still have a working right eye. He replayed the entire night in his head over and over, changing minute details and considering how they would have affected the overall outcome of the future.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His fatigue from the previous night and the warm glow of the fire lulling him to sleep, he closed his eyes on one final thought: 'I just want her back.'