fly me to the moon | mark lee

TWO.

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and let me play

among the stars

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THE JOURNEY THERE was subdued, the journey back thankfully less so, and lighter; they were no longer cradling the plastic roses.

"What did you say?" Mark asked, tone deceivingly light.

Haru crossed her ankles. The bus trundled down the street, and every now and then it'd hit a bump and send their shoulders knocking. "I told him I was another step closer to graduation." She traced a pattern on her thigh. "And that I'm doing okay. And I miss him."

And I'm sorry I let him go alone that day.

As if picking up on her self-destructive thoughts, Mark pinched the skin of her arm. "He'll be glad."

"Will he?" Her head tipped back. But neither she nor Mark had an answer to that, and she let the question hang between them as the doors slid open and a Fae couple stepped in, magnificent heads nearly brushing the ceiling.

On cue, the news podcast flickered to life. The cybernetic visage of Æ Juliet - or just Juliet, as everyone called her - turned her white, show-stopping smile towards the screen, and throughout the bus, a dozen Juliets tossed their spun-gold hair in precise unison. "Good morning, Seoul! Breaking News, directly from the High King's court."

Typically, this was where she'd tune out, but something about the edge to Juliet's lilting soprano made her eyes snap up to watch.

"It's been twelve years since the Little Prince, protege of His Highness Mikhael himself, disappeared in a nursery fire." A brief clip of what looked like an elaborate, life-sized bird cage going up in ecstatic flames. Several commuters clapped hands to their mouths.

"It is widely believed that the Prince is dead, if not for a recent hack into the government system that told an entirely different story."

A dramatic pause. And Haru knew she was, like everyone else present, holding her breath.

"The Little Prince of Fae is alive, but has been raised apart from his kind and is likely to have no recollection of his past.

"I have a message from the High King himself," the camera zoomed towards Æ Juliet's flawless face, "son, if you're listening and you remember, come home."

Then they cut away to a tinkling rendition of the Korean national anthem.

"Insanity," someone muttered from the back of the bus, and several murmured their assent, but the Fae couple simply glared and brought their heads together, long, whip-like tails twining restlessly around their calves.

Haru nudged Mark. "Well, isn't that charming." Her smile was frozen on her lips. "A Fae heir."

Mark fidgeted his fingers near his mouth. "The President isn't going to like that."

"Oh, not at all. Without an heir, that's just less power the Folk can assert over them, right?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I thought we loved the Fae."

Her brow scrunched. "Well, I'm sure we still do."

"You don't."

Haru thought of rising to a retort, but sank back down into her seat with a defeated sigh. "I don't."

"Is this to do with-"

"It has everything to do with." She hadn't meant to snap, but his ripple of surprise was sufficient chastisement. "Look, the way they use their Glamour is inexcusable."

"I'm not defending them." Mark fixed her with his large, cat-like eyes, and she found she couldn't look away. "I know what they do." He trailed off then, teeth sinking into his lip, then twisted around with his back to her and yanked down the collar of his shirt.

At first, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be seeing. Until she saw it.

A hint of fibrous scar tissue. It was a mere inch of bare skin, yet Haru could imagine it spanning the expanse of his back. The skin there was taut and white, and didn't set right in some places.

A topographic map of agony.

She reached out without thought, fingers enclosing his own, and gently pushed his shirt back up. "Don't. What if someone sees?"

If he caught the tremor in her voice, he didn't flinch. "It's okay."

Mouth dry, "What happened to you?"

Mark eyed her at the corner of his eye. "Some Fae thought it'd be funny to make my dad crash the car," he said dryly. "It was a long time ago."

Haru let her hand fall. "I never knew." Somehow, the shock hadn't quite settled in her gut yet. It had been years. Was she really that shallow of a friend? "I'm sorry." An inexplicable knot had formed in her throat.

He shrugged. "Just saying. I can not love them and still don't hate them."

"If they did what they did though," Haru whispered. She wasn't certain what made a part of her so desperate to convince him, the same part of her that roiled with bitter resentment. "Would you say the same?"

"Maybe I'll never know how you feel," he confessed. "But at least you should know you're not alone."

The filtered female voice over the speaker that held none of Juliet's emotion articulated the name of the stop, and Mark slid from the seat and headed for the exit. Alienated against the doorway, his back was that of a tragic hero.

She steeled a breath and followed.