The Runaway

Chapter 40

"Once, I found a potato in my bedroom, on my bed, with a little bow on it and a note on it that told me to go to the garden. The only problem with that was, my whole kingdom is a garden... so I was walking around that whole day and I never found anything, no one could explain it either. I don't remember what happened with that potato or what was going on."

He stays facing away from me with the pillow on top of his head instead of under. Is he broken? Why would someone act like this? He woke up this morning very sad. I've never felt or seen so much sadness.

"What's wrong?"

He doesn't respond or move. I get off the bed and walk around to the other side, squatting down in front of him. I move the pillow off his sad, bonny face. He avoids all eye contact. I put my hand on the side of his head, around his ear and rub his temple with my thumb. He seems scared. Elves are only scared when our lives are at risk.

"You're safe."

His voice is quiescent. "No..."

"You are. I'll keep you safe."

He faces me, pain in his eyes and a frown on his lips. He wraps his hand around my forearm.

"I'm not..."

"Tell me what's wrong."

His hand falls from my arm to the floor. He drags his fingertips across the wood boards. A sigh leaves his mouth. He stays silent for a long time.

"A lot."

"We have time."

I sit down, my calves and knees hurt. This wasn't part of my non-existent plan. He rolls onto his back and folds his arms underneath his head. He stares at the ceiling, and I wait in anticipation for something to happen.

Why am I sitting on the floor? My bum hurts. I could get back on the bed- He starts talking. My heart hurts at his words.

"I miss my mother- I miss her so fucking much. The kingdom fell apart after she fell." He stays quiet for a short while. The air becomes heavy. "No one is happy in the castle. It's been eight years, and the pain still burdens me, burning imprints in my skin, on my memory... I was thirteen... The king hasn't spoken to me since then- well, he has but he never bothered to learn sign language. He only taunted me and ordered me around. I miss her more and more each day..."

He turns back towards me, his voice softer, shaking. "You are the only person that has treated me like a normal being in the past eight years. Don't stop it, please. I don't know how to feel, how to act. I'm scared of losing you, scared of doing something wrong, and for that I am sorry. Teach me how to be a friend without treating me as incompetent. They kept treating me as the little boy who lost his mother, not the man who would have eventually ruled their kingdom..."

"I won't treat you badly."

"Promise me."

I get off the floor and crawl back onto the other side of the bed, sitting next to him. He turns, staring at the ceiling.

"Give me your hand."

He does so. I put it over my heart and my hand on top of his. He's warm.

"I promise."

He shyly smiles. "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

He looks at me. "What?"

There are pockets in this dress. They're small but still hold things. I take out the little black box and hand it to him. He slowly takes the box and opens it.

"A necklace?"

"Yeah." It's hard not to act like an excited baboon and not squeal or be weird. I love giving presents.

"Why?"

"I saw it in the store and thought you would like it. Thank you for helping me."

He takes the necklace out the box, sits up and puts it on. He leans on my shoulder.

"Thanks."

"Now you have to get me more honey."

"Later."

I mess with his fluffy hair since there's nothing else to do. I could ask more questions, but if he wants to tell me more, he will. It doesn't make sense anyways. We don't die- I mean, we do but it's either from old age or murder. He's too young for his mom to die of old age unless she was really old. Murder doesn't happen either, only the humans murder.

"We need a pet frog."

"Why?"

"So, it can find out what happened to that potato."

He very dramatically sighs, putting his whole being into that sigh, as if his soul just left him.

"What did you plan on doing that day you met me after I was kidnapped by your dad?"

"Sleep."

I lay down, spectacularly, making the bed shake. He turns the top half of himself towards me, one eyebrow raised. I pat the spot beside me. His stare lingers but he lays beside me, quite tense.

"You're alright. You can sleep now."

"No."

Now I sigh the sigh of all sighs.

"I'm trying to be nice, and you rejected me."

He sits back up and watches the window. On the other side of the glass are a bunch of houses that are short and smushed together. Barely any space between them. If I was inside one, I could look right into another one. Why would they do that?

"Yep."

"You can't reject me."

"I can."

"Not very nice."

He shrugs. I sit up beside him -all this movement is exhausting- and trace the ridges and crack on the broken horn.

"How'd it break? Aren't they indestructible?"

"In a fight. They're strong, not indestructible."

"Must have been a crazy fight."

He solemnly nods before taking the blanket from the foot of the bed and completely covering himself with it, not moving or anything. I poke his arm, I think, he's now a silhouette.

"What are you doing?"

"Things."

"Like?"

"I don't know."

I pull the blanket off of him. His hair is a mess, pointing everywhere. That made no sense, I'm confused. Why hide under the blanket?

"Show me your arm."

"Why?"

"I want to see if the ink is still on your arm. You're so pale it might have stained you."

He gives me a dirty face and pulls up his sleeve. Indeed, the flowers are still there, just a little faint.

I did such a great job.

"You still never told me how old you are."

"Sixty-seven."

"You're old."

He nods. "I told you."

I throw the blanket back over him. The liar shall stay hidden.

"You're ridiculous."

"Thank you, love."

A/N: Hello everyone! the drama shall be exposed soon! Gonna make Sylvian confess everything and stop dragging it out, even I'm growing impatient.