Harmonious Hearts 2019--Stories from the Young Author Challenge

by Ryan Almroth

  Even standing among what felt like the entire village, no one stopped to name him. No one even noticed him.

  And after that, it was easy to let himself get carried away.

  He’d only ducked out of the dancing for a short break. Tucked in the corner formed by a food stall and a wall, he laughed breathlessly, staring out at the bustling crowd.

  And then he heard a kid call, “Watch out, mister!” as a firecracker tumbled into the corner, just beneath his foot. He froze.

  With a loud pop, the projectile whistled just past his face, close enough that he felt the heat of its flame. His concentration wavered for just a moment, enough that the illusion flickered—so ridiculously brief, but enough to throw the entire street into disarray.

  Between the cries of, “Spirit-touched! Grab her!” and “She’s the one!” Lil barely managed to escape to the nearest sanctuary he could think of—the bookstore.

  The back door slammed as he bolted inside, making his father jump and whirl around. He froze for just a moment, before squinting and carefully asking, “Lil?”

  Belatedly, Lil realized he’d forgotten to drop the illusion, this time.

  “It’s me, Dad,” he said, voice shaking.

  “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

  “Dad… I have something to tell you.”

  Tell him about Vincent. Tell him about the spirit pool. His jaw worked a few times, desperately grasping for words.

  “I’m not your daughter, I’m your son,” he gasped out finally, the frantic beat of his heart in his throat kicking up a notch.

  His father paused, and Lil felt ice growing up his spine. He watched his own face crumple more than he felt it, eyes going small and watery and distant to his drumbeat thought of, I messed up.

  The choked-off sob jolted through him against his will, just like his words. “I’ve never felt… right, and my soul doesn’t—I was taking lessons. Spirit magic lessons. And he taught me to see and that’s how I found out I’m not—”

  He clapped his hands over his mouth, but the damage was already done. He knew nothing could erase the past few seconds, but still he dug his fingers into his face, heaving uneven, desperate breaths.

  Run run runrunrun, his mind screamed, but he shook instead, digging crescent moons into his cheeks and closing his eyes against hot tears.

  Then familiar callused hands closed around his, pushing them away gently and pulling him into a warm embrace, the brush of a rough, unshaved chin against his temple and the papery smell of old books holding the ice in his spine at bay.

  “Son,” his father said, warm voice rumbling against his forehead, “nothing will change my love for you. No matter what. Always remember that.”

  “But I—” he sobbed.

  “No buts, Lil.”

  His entire body shook with the force of his tears, but still he felt the whisper-scratch of stubble as his father’s face stretched into a smile.

  “I noticed you sneaking out, you know,” he said. “Always during the full moon. You were always tired, and always, always late, but you seemed so much happier for it. I figured you’d tell me eventually.”

  “I should’ve said something sooner, I know—”

  “Lil, this is eventually.” His father hugged him closer. “You don’t have to tell me everything, and you don’t have to tell me immediately. But I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, anytime.”

  “Okay,” he said, voice watery. “Because there’s more.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The village just found out and now they’re going to kill me and I don’t know what to do,” Lil let out in a rush.

  There was silence for a long moment. “Okay, that’s pretty bad,” his father finally said. “I’m not going to let that happen, though.”

  He pulled back slightly, though his hands still rested on Lil’s shoulders as he turned to peer at the calendar. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

  It took a moment for it to sink in. “Wait, are you—”

  “It’s the safest plan,” his father replied. “Vincent will get you out of here, to somewhere safe.”

  “But you’re coming with us, right?”

  “I can’t, son.”

  What joy Lil felt at being referred to as his son—his son!—was swallowed by the sinking feeling in his chest. “W-what do you mean?”

  “I was never any good at spirit magic,” he explained. “I’d never be able to pass through the barrier.”

  “Wait, you….”

  His father smiled. “You’ve always been so much like your father,” he said, eyes soft. Then he turned away and sniffed, before adding, “and so very different from me.”

  It was like being handed all the pieces of a print stamp, but not given the accompanying image. For a moment Lil just stared, feeling out the edges and stacking up the clues, before finally saying, “Vincent’s my….”

  His lip wobbled slightly. “Go with him,” his father said in a watery voice. “He’ll keep you safe. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but just… remember your real-world dad sometimes, yeah? It always gets so lonely while you’re out.”

  Lil lunged forward, holding on as tightly as he could. “I promise,” he said tearfully. “I love you, Dad.”

  Then he turned and ran, before he could change his mind.

  LIL STEPPED into the clearing, eyes catching on a familiar figure. Vincent smiled back, one hand raised in an awkward wave.

  “You’re my….” Lil trailed off, walking forward slowly.

  “Yes.” His smile turned sad. “I’m sorry that you found out like… this,” he said ruefully, and gestured vaguely out in the forest, where Lil knew the villagers were coming for them. “It’s a little abrupt, I know, but….”

  “But you’ve always known, haven’t you?”

  Vincent looked away briefly, then forced his eyes back up to meet Lil’s. “I wasn’t—I couldn’t come back,” he confessed. “I’d been missing for so long, and it took me far too long to realize what I’d missed, trying to find myself.” He sighed. “For that, I will be eternally sorry. I wasn’t there when it mattered.”

  “But you’re here now,” Lil replied, simply.

  “I… yes. And I’ll be here for as long as you want me around, this time.”

  The flickering red-orange of burning torchlight drew closer, now, and they could both hear the crunch of far too many boots against snow.

  “There will always be a place for you with me, Lil—”

  “Andrew. Call me Andrew.”

  Vincent smiled. “Andrew,” he repeated. “My son. Will you come home?”

  Andrew nodded and stepped forward.

  OLIVER X. LI is a full-time computer scientist, part-time musician, and eternal cat enthusiast (with a grand total of one cat). Their Chinese heritage features strongly in much of their work, though all their bitter descriptions of winter come straight from the Canadian wilderness where they currently reside. When they aren’t queering up folklore and superstition, Oliver enjoys cooking, coding, composing, and creating complex DnD campaigns—though oddly enough, they have no particular love for the letter C. You can reach them on their Twitter @li_olive868, or email them at oliverli868@gmail.com.

  At the Party

  By Rhiannon Lee

  Popular Julian and nerdy Ethan have been friends for as long as they can remember, but certain romantic emotions are growing within each of them. Neither thinks he’s good enough for the other, and they struggle to communicate their feelings… until they’re put in a situation where they can no longer avoid the truth.

  Acknowledgments

  THANK YOU to my writing community at NSU, the wonderful faculty and the ride-or-die Writers’ Guild, for helping me build this piece. And thank you to my fellow Party On Workshoppers, because without them I really would not have been able to submit this piece in the first place. Thank you to my dads for supporting me, and thank you to my friends—especially my roommate—who listen to my rambl
ings daily about my writing. A big thank-you, as well, to Teras, for listening to me ramble on about these characters so often.

  Each one of you has had such an important hand in helping me get here, and for that I couldn’t be more grateful. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much.

  PART ONE

  ETHAN TAKES a deep breath to steady his jittery fingers as he straightens his school uniform jacket a bit and beams from ear to ear at his own reflection. This is a good day for him. His face isn’t too puffy, he’s running just as early as he likes, and he’d had the energy the night before to pack a well-balanced lunch for himself… with just enough extra for a certain friend of his.

  This is it. This is the day he’s going to confess. He can just feel it. Everything’s been too right this morning for him to not tell Julian how he feels. He’ll walk right up to his best friend of fourteen years, tell him how he feels, and they’ll get together and—

  Sawyer pounds his fist against Ethan’s window.

  Ethan jumps hard enough to jostle his precisely fixed brunet locks, and he whirls about with a glare set behind his thick-framed rectangle glasses. Sawyer, Ethan’s closest friend geographically if not emotionally, smirks at him, waggling his fingers teasingly. Ethan rolls his eyes before his glare shifts to a scowl as he goes to open his window. His mattress dips beneath him as he kneels in front of the glass, unlocking it, then shoving it upward with a grunt.

  “Oh, did I scare you?” Sawyer taunts, setting his large hands against the windowsill, clearly planning to jump in. Ethan clicks his tongue and shoves his friend back outside, his small hands hard against Sawyer’s chest.

  “Last time you came in through the window,” Ethan explains at Sawyer’s hurt frown, “you tracked dirt all over my bedroom. I just cleaned yesterday, and I don’t want you making a mess of it again. If you want to come in, do it through the front door like a normal person.”

  Sawyer sighs dramatically, slumping forward and resting his torso against the sill, instead, half his body now in Ethan’s room and half of it out.

  “You’re so mean,” Sawyer whines, dragging out the last word for much longer than necessary as he wilts. “What did I do to ever earn such treatment?”

  Ethan shrugs and turns, leaving his perch to check his hair one final time in the mirror. He avoids Sawyer’s gaze as he continues to fiddle with this and that. Desperate attempts to ease his own nerves, surely, though they do little to actually help. “Just made a mess of everything you touch,” he answers mercilessly, giving Sawyer a smirk to alleviate the mood.

  Sawyer only sighs again in reply, watching Ethan as he picks up a stray lock of hair here or there with precise fingers. He frowns, leaning farther into the room as he squints his eyes in realization.

  “Is that… gel in your hair?” Sawyer suddenly demands, outright gawking now at the realization. The tips of Ethan’s ears go red, and he awkwardly clears his throat, glad he’s still looking in the opposite direction so that he can hide at least some of the massive blush now creeping up his neck. He has the kind of skin that goes rosy at almost any provocation, and Sawyer pointing out the extra effort he’d put into his do has him immediately in tomato territory.

  “N-no!” he answers, sheepish at his own lie. Sawyer seems unable to help the impish giggle that bubbles against his lips, obviously unconvinced. He glances at the clearly gelled hair, and then behind him at the house next to his… the one where Julian resides.

  “You’re gonna tell Julian how you feel today, aren’t you?” he asks, quirking up a brow and wagging it teasingly at his friend.

  “Tell Julian what? I told you, man, he—” Ethan says, pausing at the name in spite of himself. “—is great, but we’re just friends.” He’s careful to keep his back to Sawyer as he gathers his textbooks, grateful for the excuse to do so.

  “Whatever,” Sawyer says flippantly, and Ethan can practically hear the shrug the boy gives. “I’m just glad you’re finally doing it… I mean, I know it must be intimidating and all because of how popular he is, but still. It’s about time you told Julian how you feel.” Ethan can’t help the way he reacts to the word intimidating, his shoulders hiking up despite himself. He hears Sawyer pause, and he knows, just knows, that the reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

  “After all, Julian is the most popular boy at school. He’s so pretty and thin, and you… well, you pack a well-balanced lunch every day. I mean, I, for one, support trying to date up the social food chain. Good for you!”

  Ethan remains with his back turned after Sawyer finishes, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He’s right, of course, and Ethan knows it. But he didn’t think the social food chain would really matter to Julian. They’ve been friends for forever, after all, and things like that never seemed to matter before. However, this is uncharted territory, and things shift when romance is involved. Maybe he shouldn’t take the risk, if that’s what even Sawyer thinks….

  “I… I’m not confessing anything today, okay?” Ethan tells him, a blush still evident on his cheeks. “I know that I told you I had a thing for him after Suzie’s Homecoming After, After, After Party, but that was… party talk. We’re good friends, and that’s enough.” Sawyer’s brow creases as he scrutinizes Ethan’s face, clearly thinking he might have gone too far. After all, Sawyer has told him time and again after Suzie’s party that Julian would be more accepting of Ethan’s feelings than he thinks, but Ethan just can’t grasp that.

  Julian’s out of his league, plain and simple, and Sawyer has just all but proven this. Ethan gives a short nod, moving to shut the window after he’s gone and close the curtains.

  Ethan collapses on the bed once he’s sure Sawyer’s gone, burying his face in his hands…. He releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the strained exhale shaking his shoulders slightly. Sawyer’s words circle round and round Ethan’s head like vultures, picking at all the doubts his optimism had managed to somehow bury until that moment. He’s right, of course. Despite their close friendship over the years, Julian and Ethan have grown to run in completely different circles. Julian’s accepted with the cool kids at school, smiling his way through everything, and Ethan’s just the choir geek in the back of the room with the Tupperware of celery sticks. Julian’s always the first to be invited to parties, and Ethan’s the one that just gets dragged along to crash. Hell, Ethan should just count himself lucky Julian still deigns to eat lunch with him every day. After all, he could just go and eat with all his cool friends and not be bothered by him anymore.

  Ethan sighs, shaking his head as all the hope and possibility drain out of the morning. They’re too different. It’d only ruin the friendship he has with Julian if he confesses now.

  He gets up, shaking Sawyer’s voice out of his ears as he goes to get his bag and leave. So much for his great hair day.

  JULIAN STEPS out onto his porch and sees Sawyer already waiting for him at the usual meet-up, the lamppost between his and Ethan’s homes. He raises his hand in a silent greeting as he approaches, blinking slowly as he shuffles forward.

  He’s only been awake for a few minutes, and he hasn’t quite gotten his bearings yet. Sawyer nods at him, leaning against the pole and crossing his arms over his chest.

  “E didn’t let you in through the window again?” Julian asks, successfully keeping the relief from his voice. He always hates it whenever Sawyer gets to just sneak into Ethan’s room like that, right under his nose. Of course, he understands it, knows how close they are, but that still doesn’t mean he has to like it. Sawyer shakes his head, pouting as he stares at Ethan’s front door.

  “No,” Sawyer replies with a sigh. “I tried, but he just bitched at me for making a mess the last time….” He trails off, glancing to Julian with a raised brow, the slightest of smirks playing across his thin lips. “He seemed to really be putting an effort into his looks today. He might be planning on making a move on someone special. Can you think of who that could be?” Sawyer grins like a cat who’s eaten nothing but
canary for a month straight. Julian can’t quite make it out, thinking it’s meant to convey something hidden in plain sight. After a moment he brushes it off, thinking it to be nothing more than one of Sawyer’s games.

  Julian can feel the pointed gaze as if it were a whole other entity in their conversation, but he doesn’t give Sawyer the reaction he’s so clearly looking for, and only offers a halfhearted shrug, despite how his heart does somersaults in his chest. He silently thanks his mother for the all-but-unflappable poker face he inherited from her, and he tries not to think that maybe, just maybe, he could be that someone special.

  Before he can get lost in the hypothetical, though, Ethan steps out of his home, his hair styled back to show off his widow’s peak, and his uniform starched and pressed. Julian glances down at his own haphazardly put-on uniform, his shirt not tucked in and his tie only half tied.

  Ethan looks as perfect as always, and Julian…? Well, he’s just Julian.

  “Good morning,” Ethan greets, his chipper tone sounding strangely forced. He pauses once he gets close enough to the other two, readjusting his bag slightly for better comfort. Julian tilts his head to the side at how strained Ethan’s smile seems, the lines at the corners tight and curling emptily.

  “You okay?” he asks, shifting closer to get a better look at his friend. Ethan blinks, his smile faltering for just a moment before he pushes an amused breath through his teeth.

  “Of course I am,” Ethan says, already reaching out to fix Julian’s tie like he does every morning, “but you don’t seem to be. Honestly, Jules, you need to start going to sleep earlier to wake up on time. You can’t keep leaving the house like this.” Julian watches as Ethan performs this little ritual of theirs. He wonders what Ethan would say if he knew that Julian ties the knot lopsided on purpose, just to feel Ethan’s fingers on his neck as they button down his collar.