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He shouldn’t have gone out into the forest. He shouldn’t have snuck out while everyone else was far away, partying and drinking late into the night.
Now it was cold and damp and the fog around him coiled around his body like a snake.
Fugo tentatively took another step forward into the dark forest, illuminated only by the slivers of moonlight peeking down through the tops of the trees, and tried to stifle his breathing.
What would his grandma say if she saw this. Every lesson, every warning, pounded into his head since he was a child. Don’t go out at night and certainly don’t go into the woods when the sun sets. But he was tired and angry and if he spent another minute inside that stifling mansion entertaining his mother’s guests he would have stabbed someone.
He just wanted to get away from it all but now that he was lost in the very heart of the woods, he started to finally regret it.
Overhead an owl hooted in a branch staring down at him with beady eyes shocked Fugo out of his thoughts. He stared at its uncanny figure, turned 360 degrees around and cocking its head at him. Even though it was only the size of his forearm, he felt like he was the prey here.
He hadn’t realized he had stopped walking until behind him a branch suddenly snapped. It was loud and like the crack of a gun into the night. Fugo felt like a bucket of water was poured over his body, cold seeping into his spine forcing him to stand ramrod straight. He felt his heart drop to his feet and the owl in front of him was completely forgotten. Someone was out here with him. Someone has been following him and they are right behind him.
He couldn’t help it, he was full blown panting now. Turn around, turn around, turnaroundturnaround-
“Hey.”
And it seemed right then and there that Fugo’s heart stopped beating. If his veins were to freeze over and his eyes were gouged out of his sockets he still would not feel a single thing. Fear had paralyzed him and ate his body whole.
It wasn’t a person behind him. He knew that now. Not with the way their voice sounded, a thousand tiny whisperings all at once.
Fugo had not moved a single inch but the creature didn’t seem to want to leave just yet. So it spoke again. “Hey.”
This time Fugo turned, he turned all twenty consecutive muscles in his neck around to face the thing.
And once he laid eyes on the boy that had tracked his movements since the moment he stepped foot into the thicket, he felt his breath only fade in awe.
He did remember every story his grandma had ever told him about the faeries and the tales of what lived in the countryside but it seemed she had never told him just quite how beautiful they were.
The faerie before him was gold, there was no other way to describe him but gold.
Long shining locks that flowed down his back, millions of follicles that seemed to be woven from Freya’s tapestry itself. Blue eyes that peered at him from the darkness, cold as a winter night but warm as and encapsulating as the waves. A mouth lined by pink lips that reminded Fugo of the pomegranates his younger brother loved to gorge on for dessert, blood red but softened by the night.
“Good evening.” It spoke again and this time Fugo could see the fangs. The millions of pointed shards wedged into its mouth like sharpened glass. The translucent white robes it wore shifted against its frames and descended about to graze the grassy floor, only to instead melt into the ground before dirt could stain the pristine color. It seemed to be made of something otherworldly, perhaps the moonbeams above them. Now that Fugo could see them more clearly he noticed how they seemed to be fading slightly, constantly pulsing between here and another place. It seemed to be in between two worlds, constantly shimmering and translucent, appearing before him when it clearly was not supposed to be here.
“Remember Panni the faeries expect you to indulge in their games. So entertain them lest you want to turn into a toadstool.”
Fugo remembers his nonna's advice and so he opens his mouth and barely can crack out a low “Hello.”
It appears to be amused by him and immediately smiles, pulling its lips into what should be an unnatural and creepy look on anyone else but almost looks downright charming on it. Fugo notes that it has dimples. The creature from his worst nightmares has dimples that look extremely, very soft and he wonders what they would feel like. Almost before the thought can finish he shuts it down immediately and buries it into the deepest depths of his subconscious.
Focus dammit Fugo! Never let your guard down around a faerie, that’s rule number one!
“What are you doing out here so late?” It interrupts, cocking its head to the side. It reminds him of the owl from earlier.
“I’m running away from my house party.” He has to choke out the words, past the bramble of thorns beginning to tangle in his cricopharyngeal muscle. There’s no point in lying to the thing before him, it already knows the truth anyways.
“Why?”
“Couldn’t stand the company.”
Briefly Fugo shifts his stance, warily trying to look out for escape routes and instead feels the telltale bulge in his left front pocket of his piano notes; the ones for a meaningless Beethoven song he was playing tonight to indulge his mother’s guests.
The faerie notices where he’s looking and makes a pulling motion with its fingers. Immediately the world around Fugo makes a large popping noise and he moves to cover his ears with his hands, disoriented and terrified. It’s like everything around him is being sucked into a vacuum.
Suddenly it stops and his legs feel like jelly, his ears burn. While his eyes swim, Fugo forces his head up and sees that the creature now has his notes clutched in its thin, yet delicate hand. Its nails are sharp enough to pierce right through the flimsy yellow paper.
Right before Fugo yells out for it to give him the notes back he notices that the faerie appears to be reading it. Its long lashes are dipped down as its eyes narrow to read the composition. When it appears to be satisfied with the contents it looks up from the paper, eyes pinning Fugo where he stood and opens its mouth again to ask, “What is this?”
There is a sweet, succinct pause in the night air before Fugo replies “Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. I’ve already memorized the entire thing.”
They stare down at the paper more, almost entranced by the contents so Fugo says, “You can have it if you want.”
That almost seems to surprise them, their eyes widen slightly but just like that, like a glass teetering on the edge it breaks whatever seemed to be distracting the faerie from its business.. So it finally lets out a breath, something Fugo didn’t even know it needed, and snaps their fingers returning the note back into his pocket; startling him slightly.
“Now, I want to ask you what’s yo-”
“What’s my name right?” He interrupts them.
A pause, they blink slowly; perplexed and aim to speak again.
“My name, you want my name right? That’s your guys’ whole shtick.”
A voice that sounds suspiciously like his eldest brother warns him about how his smart mouth is going to get him killed; he’s talking to something that could make him suffer a fate worse than death here and instead he’s blabbing off about something he knows like he always does.
But Fugo can’t help it, he knows what the faerie wants. Hundreds upon hundreds of tales his grandma and her friends in her knitting club have regaled him with since the moment he was old enough to process how creepy the forest was and the magic that lay dormant inside.
But he is surprised with his own tenacity and from the way the faerie looks perplexed, they also seem to be taken aback by his behavior.
“So… you know what I am.”
“Well yes, you do know your skin is literally shining right now.”
Its mouth opens slightly into an o shape and it looks down at its skin, which is quite literally fluorescent like a lantern right now, shining like the sun.
“Oh.”
Yes, oh. But Fugo doesn’t voice those thoughts because he can only snark away so much before he inevitably pisses it off.
It turns its head back up and it almost looks sheepish? Their cheeks are turning a bizarre green and he wonders if that is what a blush is supposed to look like on them. And he hates to admit it but a small part of him almost finds it charming.
“My apologies then.” It wrings its hands together and murmurs something under its breath that sounds like a string of nonsensical sounds before turning back to him, “So then we can just get this started right?” They lift a finger to point back and forth between them, “May we start the game?”
Yes, the games. Fugo nods, apprehension lifting the hair on his skin as he starts to walk away. He doesn’t want to play anything, he wants to go home now.
It only takes two steps for them to narrow their eyes and yell out a “stop.” But Fugo isn’t listening at this point, he gets into his stupid, stupid brain that maybe if he runs fast enough he can somehow dodge and escape the magical being that can warp reality itself.
So he starts running, narrowly avoiding a bush in his way and falling on his ass. He runs through thickets and thickets of brambles, darting in between trees and trying not to get his sleeves or shoes stuck in the foliage. His heart is pounding and the only thing keeping his body running right now is pure and utter adrenaline. He can’t hear him, he can’t hear him, he can’t-
“Please stop running.” And right before him the faerie descends from the sky, upside down, golden hair falling around him like a cocoon.
Fugo resists the urge to scream and switches paths, heart still pumping. The path he’s on right now is only ten minutes away from his house, he fears he can’t keep this up for long.
It seems the faerie has gotten it into his mind that since Fugo would not be stopping any time soon he will simply play his tricks while Fugo is on the move. It points to a white circle at the bottom of a tree in the upcoming bend and whispers in his ear, “If you go into that circle then I will certainly let you go.”
Nope, nope, fuck that. Fugo knows what that is and what it would do to him if he stepped into it. He continues to run and tries to ignore the faerie boy by his side. He is cold and warm at the exact same time, comforting but unnerving, and the polar opposites were messing with Fugo’s head.
“You know it’s a shame that your family is like that, what were their names again? I could teach them a lesson.”
“No!” He shouts quickly. “Don’t do that!”
He’s panicking now, too fast for comprehensive thoughts, and perhaps that’s a good thing, now his body only has to focus on running. Soon he would be reaching the athletes zone where the searing burn in his chest would disappear.
“But we are friends are we not? Then why don’t you give me a nickname, it doesn’t even have to be your actual name.” It’s wheedling now, and Fugo can briefly feel a part of him just relax and he knows right now he is using some sort of magic on him; perhaps charm magic.
He ignores him and soon notices the trees getting sparser and the denseness of the forest loosening its tight grip around him. He was getting close.
“Fine, then at least answer a riddle!” It suddenly appears in front of him again and out of nowhere Fugo’s world slips on its side, he struggles and tries to upright himself to no avail.
He looks up and notices one of the stray vines had now wrapped itself around his right ankle and was holding him aloft. He jitters again and it only results in making more blood rush to his head; making his head hurt more.
He gasps out a “Wha-what the fu-”
The faerie bends down in front of him and stares into his eyes as he says his next words.
“Okay first riddle, what animal walks on four legs in the morning, two legs during the day, and three in the evening.” He finishes with a flourish, clearly pride in his voice.
Fugo immediately answers “A human.”
“And so now if you- huh” He levels him with a blank look, taken back. “How did you figure that out so fast!?
“It’s a basic riddle, everyone knows it.” He would try to shrug if he could but currently blood was pooling into his head and things were beginning to get dizzy.
“Huh that’s…- huh, I haven’t checked on the human world in a while so I-”
“Can you let me go now, I answered your riddle fair and square.”
The boy looks like he wants to put up another fight but the vine immediately lets him go, the fulfillments reached. Fugo unceremoniously falls on his head and his shoulders scuff against the hard dirt, painfully. He winces and forces his sore body up again, limbs cracking.
“Oogh.” He rubs at his head and starts to limp away. The faerie steps in front of him again and Fugo feels a vein start to throb in his head. He didn’t care, he wanted to unleash every insult he could upon them, he just didn’t care that they could send him straight to hell anymore, he was pissed and annoyed and everything hurt all over.
The faerie was looking at him weirdly and Fugo made to shove past them.
“You are very interesting.”
He stops, pauses mid-step, and turns around.
The boy is still shimmering there, behind him, just eyeing him up and down with something he recognizes. A look he knows from crowds of people at recitals, from his nonna when he managed to perfect a german chocolate cake, from the people tonight at the party. It is plain and simple adoration in his eyes.
“I have never met a human being such as yourself before. It is strange how I feel right now.” He lets out a small giggle and Fugo continues to stare, hundreds of feelings conflicting at once.
This is very very creepy and he should run away right now. But there was something about the golden haired faerie that kept him from leaving and it wasn’t magic this time.
“You’re very clever and fast on your feet. I think that I will have fun with you.” He steps closer to Fugo and gets close to his face, too close, what the hell.
“No one has ever run from me before let alone interrupted me, fascinating very fascinating.” His golden hair moves back and forth, lips shiny and Fugo is entranced.
“I think I will be back again to play with you some more.” He says and there is a tone of finality there, a cheerful lilt in his voice and then suddenly a suction noise again, the fabric of reality tearing, and he is gone. The boy, the faerie, is gone.
Fugo is left standing there like an idiot, with a bloody and messed up shirt, twigs in his hair, only a couple steps away from his house. He blinks once, twice, and sits down on the steps trying to process what just happened.
A small crinkling in his side reminded him that he still had that ever to be cursed notes on him and he shoved his fingers into his pockets, digging the paper out. It crunches in his hand and he gets ready to throw it as far away as he can from him but only pauses, arm raised when he sees something scrawled on it with pencil, obviously not there originally.
He unfolds the paper and recognizes where his tutor scrawled extra notes on it and he sees little reminders to pause there or emphasize here but then he sees it.
On the top right corner, written boldly, hard to miss: Fugo Pannacotta
It was there all along.
He knew.
He knew his name.
He knew this entire time.
Fugo felt like the metaphorical rug had been pulled out from under him. What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FUC-
“Fugo!” A bright feminine voice rang through the night. He shuffled around to see one of his many not quite aunts but he still called her aunt on his mother’s insistence, standing there in a tight pink tequila dress. “Where you been kiddo, we’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
She gestures for him to come inside. Fugo stares down at the note and back up at her, continued by a long pause, before finally getting up and following back inside but not before he feels eyes burning into his back. He stops on the granite steps and turns around one final time and sees him staring at the edge of the forest, looking at Fugo. He flashes a cheeky smile and lets out a bright laugh, waving.
Fugo can only wave back.