Yeah, because a mad dash down a strange world that fed on desire and intent wasn’t an obviously fatal mistake.
Bo didn’t sprint. Instead: careful, steady, keeping to the dead fucking center of the path, his hands in his pockets. Eyes on the trees, either birches or alders. He could do this.
Just…
He didn’t want to be the reason Ever died early. Why should he live four hundred years instead of forever, when every time someone looked in Bo’s direction, his stomach curdled with shame? Bo wasn’tthatgood of a lay. And still, Ever was walking his own path, facing his own trial. Had promised to keep Bo safe.
And Bo was a selfish asshole. He wanted Ever. So, he kept walking.
“I confess, I expected you to look a bit more like me.” The voice came from the trees. Warm and cultured, with a gentle hint of amusement along the edges. Bo flinched at the sudden sound. “I suppose I ought to have known better. After a century, surely Eric was ready for a change.”
“Eric?” Bo asked, turning toward the voice–the trees– despite his better fucking judgment. (He had no sense of self-preservation, apparently.)
A shadow resolved into something solid. The man, elegant in a dove gray suit and vest, had to be Lawrence. Gorgeous, looking as easy to bruise as Bo wasn’t, his hair curled gently about his soft cheeks and equally soft brown eyes.
“Oh,” the seemingly alive man said, “but you call him Ever, don’t you?”
“Everil,” Bo replied, flat. Ever hadn’t given Lawrence the okay to call him that. Because Lawrence wasdead.
“Everil. Yes. Everil.”
Bo slowed further, but he didn’t quite stop. His attention was, admittedly, focused on the apparition. “It always weirds me out when people hook up with mirror images of their ex.”
“Arrogance on my part, I suppose,” Lawrence said with a sweet, rueful smile. “It’s quite surprising, overall. Three days, and already you know more of him than I did. For better or worse.”
Goddamn Faerie.
“You’re Lawrence, right? I’m headed–” Bo tipped his head down the path. “But if you want to chat about our favorite resident kelpie and aren’t going to try to feed me to the trees, we can talk and walk at the same time.”
“Delightful. This isn’t a place to be wandering without company.” Lawrence fell into step beside Bo, the leaves seeming to reach for him as he moved beyond their grasp. “You’ll have to forgive him for sending you off alone like this.”
Gentle and tragic. That’s how he sounded. And this– Itcouldn’tbe Lawrence. Sluaghs saw death. Ever hadn’t mentioned them summoning ghosts.
“With all due respect, Ever didn’t send me this way,” Bo said, frowning. “I decided to do it. He’s not the kind of guy to make big sweeping decisions and expect me to go with it.”
“Is he not?” Lawrence cast him a sympathetic look. Bo, on his best fucking behavior, didn’t bristle.
“No. Because we fucking talked about it at the house.” Theyhad. Bo’d fucking stand by that and Ever. “Even if he was, he wouldn’t. He was pissed at my parents for taking choices from me.”
“Discussions with him so rarely go how one believes. He doesn’t know what it means to be human, not really. He does try. But he’ll never understand you.” Lawrence shook his head, curls falling forward with the gesture. When he spoke again, his voice was even softer, still that fucking sympathy, only now it had a splash of concern. “It’s very lonely, Bo, caring for someone like him. Everil visits. He doesn’t stay. And I’m afraid this visit is a short one.”
Fuck this guy.
“I–”Don’t say sorry in Faerie, Bo. Don’t tell the ghost-trial to fuck off.“It’s regrettable that it was hard for you. That really sucks. Twenties must’ve been rough enough to begin with, let alone a flaky boyfriend.”
Lawrence looked away toward the trees. “Everil was a very dear friend. I did care for him. And I believed he cared for me, in his way.”
“Dude, he fucking mourned you for, what? A century? Jesus.”
“A drop in the bucket for him. I made my mistakes, and I paid for them,” the ghostly-but-not man murmured, sighing. He dismissed his own past with a fluttering wave of his hand. “These things happen. We all do pay, eventually. But the best we can do is try to look after others, isn’t it?”
“He fucking mourned you,” Bo repeated, fiercer than before. “Made your home together into a goddamn shrine, almost. He wouldn’t have justletyou die. He’s not like that.”
Lawrence was quiet for a moment, glancing at Bo sidelong. “I didn’t say it as a slight against Everil. He is what he is, as we all are. I wouldn’t want someone else to go through what I did, is all. And so, we’ll walk for as long as you’ll allow, and I’ll hope you feel like listening.”
Bo didn’t bare his teeth. He considered that a win.
“Fine. Talk.”
