Julian didn't understand.
"Jules," Mark complained, throwing the last flashlight in his bag. "Must you do this every time?"
Mark did not have to look back to see Julian cross his arms. "It's not safe for you to be going out alone like this almost every night."
"I'm not alone." Mark said, turning around. He stared at his younger yet sadly taller brother. Julian was wearing his navy blue swim team hoodie, in addition with dark gray sweatpants. His hands were flaked in rainbow paint, as well as the tops of his feet. Despite this, Julian's glare was serious.
Julian scolded. "This is Fairfold."
"I know where we live, Julian." Mark snapped. "I know the dangers of the Fey, we've lived here forever." Mark sat his heavy backpack back on his duvet. It was filled with snacks, flashlights and batteries, and knick knacks Mark thought his Prince would like.
His Prince, the thought rolled through Marks head pleasantly. Each time Mark thought of him, his face warmed.
His Prince. His Prince wasn't technically Mark’s. Actually, everyone in Fair fold knew of the Prince. It actually was a prominent tourist location in North America. Everyone wanted to see the sleeping Fey prince, entombed in a casket of glass.
But none of them loved the Prince like Mark did. No one appreciated his presence. They took photos with the sleeping Prince and kids at Mark's school threw parties in the forest clearing where he rests. Mark, though, sat with the Prince and spoke to him.
To be honest, Mark did not know what caused his obsession with the Prince. He's known all his life about the Fair Folk and the Seelie and Unseelie courts. So while the Prince was extraordinary to the world because of his otherworldness, the Prince was incredible to Mark for different reasons. Mark was fascinated by his pale skin, the slight furrow of his black eyebrows, and soft-looking curls on his jaw-length hair. Some days, the hair changed color from summer sky blue to sea green to midnight black, as though expressing his dreams through his Unseelie locks.
Mark wondered what color his eyes were, but Mark knew hoping to see the Prince open his eyes was a pipe dream. The Prince had been sleeping since his grandmother had been a young girl.
"That Prince won't protect you if a horde of Fey come to mess with you." Julian persisted.
"I can protect myself just fine Julian." Mark said, sliding a small dagger from the water bottle pocket of his pack. "And besides, I'm the oldest, you can't tell me what to do." He added petulantly.
Julian scowled. "Helen is the oldest. And if she were here and not at Aline's, she would agree."
"But she isn't." Mark said, sliding the bag onto his shoulder, and smiled at his brother. "So as the oldest I say it's okay that I leave. I'll be back in a couple hours."
Mark pushed past Julian, heading downstairs.
"Mark," Julian groaned.
In the living room/kitchen sat a collection of Mark's family and friends. This included Emma, Julian's girlfriend. Her blonde hair was pushed up messily in a pony tail. She slurped the last piece of past and said, "Oh are you going again?"
Like boyfriend, like girlfriend, Mark thought. "You and Julian need a wider range of questions to ask. I mean, must you both ask this every time?"
Emma shrugged as Julian walked over to her. They shared a look, Mark noticed enviously. Julian and Emma. Emma and Julian. They've been in love forever, and Mark has been jealous of it forever. Don't get him wrong, he's happy for his brother's happiness, but there is a part of Mark that remains bitter.
"Mark's going back to the forest?" Ty asked, coming down the stairs, his white earphones looped around his neck. His eyes drifted to the back door in the kitchen.
"You're not going Ty." Julian said without looking away from Mark.
"But-" Ty complained.
"No,"
"Mark is the oldest. He gets to decide." Ty said, lifting his chin stubbornly.
"Mark is leaving, so that leaves me in charge. And I say you're not going."
Ty exhaled angrily, still staring at the door. Mark wondered if he was going to make a run for it now, or wait to sneak out later.
"Is Kit going to a revel tonight?" Dru asked, who was sitting not on the couch but against it. She had a long black night gown on with dancing skeletons around the neckline.
Ty didn't answer, which meant yes. Kit was Ty's boyfriend who, besides Mark, is the only kid at school with relations to the Fey. Apparently his great great great great grandmother or something was a royal Fey who ran off to the mortal world. Kit says he prefers the mortal world, since he looks more mortal than fair folk, but ever so often he'll go to revels to "not" get more information on his family line.
Ty doesn't like it when Kit went investigating without him.
"No, Ty," Julian said again, making his own dinner plate.
Ty shrugged and walked back up the stairs. A minute went by before Julian sat his plate down and said, "He's climbing out the window isn't he? Dammit." Julian hastily threw the door open and ran outside.
Emma laughed at Julian's exit. "He hates Kit so much." She giggled.
"No," Mark said placatingly, "He hates that Ty has a boyfriend. It's not Kit personally."
Dru laughed then. "Sure, Mark. It's not the fact that since Ty has met Kit, he's prone to sneak out and use occasional sass."
"Ah, young love." Emma said wistfully, sitting on the counter top. "How it changes us." She eyed Mark. "Speaking of young love, how is your Prince this fine night? Have you written him another ballad about the two of you in another life, slaying dragons or rescuing each other from rose guarded towers?"
Mark's cheeks flamed but he refused to look embarrassed. "Maybe." He said and walked to the now open door. "Don't wait up."
He shut the door with the sound of Emma and Dru's hushed jovial whispers. Night air flooded Mark's senses, smelling of grassy rain from the earlier afternoon's thunderstorm.
The moon shone bright over head, but blinked in and out of sight due to mass clouds. Mark walked along the stone path of their back yard, seeing Ty standing casually on the roof and Julian waiting below, his arms crossed. A certain blonde headed boy sat in the dresses by the roof, unbeknownst to Julian. Kit and Ty shared a few looks as Julian lectured Ty about Kit's bad influence. As Mark walked past Julian, Mark winked at Kit. Kit, looking amused beyond belief, waved back.
As Mark got farther from the house, he heard Julian shout, "I know he's here!"
Mark chuckled to himself as he entered the woods.
Dark, wooden figures loomed above Mark, but Mark was not disturbed. He'd walked these woods a million times, during snowstorms, blazing heat, and pouring rain. Mark could walk this place blind.
Even if he did not know these woods, Mark thought he could find the Prince anywhere. Or at least, that was the dreamy, romantic part of Mark thought.
Mark let his hands brush against the bark of the trees as he walked, watching fire flies dance among the branches. The Fey part of Mark delighted in this, the natural woods. While he loved the mortal world and his half siblings, there was a part of Mark that wondered about himself here, in the forest of the Fey. What would he have become if his birth mother had lived, keeping him in a land of immortals and magic?
Before Mark could go into an existential crisis, he'd made it to the clearing in the woods. The moonlight shone silver atop the glass casket. Beneath, the cheeks of the Unseelie Prince shone snow white.
Mark's heart never failed to stammer at first sight of the Prince.
Swallowing, Mark walked over. "Hello again." He said, setting his pack on the ground.
The sleeping boy did not respond.
"Dru watched Scream tonight. Julian made spaghetti, and Emma came by again. I feel like she's moved in, but just hasn't brought it up."
Mark began to talk about his day and the objects he'd brought to show to the Prince. He began to lean against the glass, resting the back on his head and watching the stars as he spoke.
He hoped the Prince understood what he was saying. But he knew that was also a pipe dream. The Prince would never wake, not even for Mark. Even as many times as Mark envisioned a true love's kiss, Mark could never get under the lid of the unbreakable glass cage.
Mark stared at his hands. He was not Fey prince or story book hero, no matter how many time he wished he was. As many time as Mark wished he lived some other, greater life, Mark accepted his reality. The Prince would never love him like Mark loved him.
And Mark accepted that. While the Prince slept, he would be awake in Mark's dreams.
Later that night, after Mark left the clearing, a girl with blonde hair and a golden sword appeared. With sightless eyes, she swung the heavy blade onto the glass, shattering it completely. Under the rain of transparent shards, the Unseelie Prince opened his eyes.
Mark woke to the sound of his window opening.
"Ty?" He mumbled, sleep ridden. "You're sneaking back in into the wrong room."
When no one responded, Mark turned to his side and saw a figure stand, a tall and muscular figure, not his slender and small brother at all.
Mark scrambled to sit up as the figure walked forward into the reigning moonlight streaming in from the window. The figure's skin was silver in the subtle light, and his eyes, his eyes were two different colors, one bright gray and obsidian black.
Eyes that Mark had never seen before, on a face Mark has seen a million times.
His Unseelie Prince.
"Well met, my Mark." The fearie said, sitting on the side of Mark's bed. His velvet court clothes were wrinkled and splattered with dirt and glass shards. The curls of his locks were falling softly against the sharp edges of his cheekbones.
Mark swallowed, his heart in his throat. "You- you know my name?"
The Unseelie Prince smiled, not in the cruel or teasing way of the Fey, but with apparent fondness. "I know your name. I know all of what you told me. My eyes may have been closed, but I was not unconscious."
Mark blinked. "That must've been terrible." He'd heard stories about coma patients who had been alert but unable to move or speak, and that sounded terrifying to Mark. The Unseelie prince had suffered through that for almost a century.
"It was," The Prince said considering, "but less so when you came around, Mark." He brushed a hand along Mark's cheek, his skin cold and soft, and tugged at the sharp edges of his Fey ears.
Mark stammered. "You- you are-"
The Unseelie Prince smiled. "My Mark," He said, "I am Kieran."