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The phone on Duck’s desk rang. He picked it up, taking a reasonable guess at who it was.
“Hey Indrid,” Duck said.
“Hi Duck,” Indrid said.
They had hung out a few times since the last abomination was defeated. After Indrid got his glasses back and convinced Duck he wasn’t mad at him, they became fast friends. It turned out that Indrid knew a lot about nature too, and Duck could spend hours going back and forth with him. The thing was, Duck wasn’t sure they were “call each other on Christmas Eve” friends yet. Not that he didn't want to be that kind of friend to Indrid, but he could hardly tell where he stood with the guy as it is.
“What’s up?” Duck asked.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Indrid asked.
“Uh, I mean, no. Why?” Duck replied.
“There’s this fascinating phenomena that takes place in Sylvain around this time of year, I believe you would call them aurora lights, and I was wondering if you wanted to come see them with me,” Indrid explained.
“Yeah, sure, seems like fun,” Duck said, a little confused.
“Great! I’ll meet you at the gate at nine, that should give us time before they start,” Indrid said.
“Alright, sounds good,” Duck said.
“See you later, Duck,” Indrid said. Click.
Duck set the phone receiver down. He had planned on spending the night at home, probably watching dumb Hallmark movies. The idea of going out had crossed his mind, in the form of last-minute shopping or walking around to see all the holiday lights. Apparently Indrid had had a more interesting thing in mind. Duck wasn’t sure why Indrid was inviting him along, but he appreciated the gesture.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Duck got ready to go. He put on an ugly sweater (a gruesome turquoise thing with lime green snowflakes) with some jeans and hiking boots. That should cover most of the terrain they might need to cross. Duck grabbed his wallet, so he had the Pine Guard patch. He shoved it into the pocket of his jacket and went out to his car.
The drive to the gate was a little long. Duck wasn’t surprised to see Indrid already there. He was leaning on one of the stone pillars, looking out into the darkening forest. He looked up as Duck’s truck got closer. Duck parked on the side of the road and hopped out. Indrid walked over to greet him.
“Hey,” Indrid said.
He was wearing around six layers (that Duck could tell) of varying styles, and his hair was pushed down over his face by a black beanie. Still, he looked like he had cleaned up a bit. His hair looked fluffy, as opposed to its usual greasy sheen. And underneath his five wildly clashing jackets was a loose-fitting navy button-up; like he had actively put in effort for this hangout. Duck felt under-dressed now.
“Hi,” Duck said.
“Shall we?” Indrid said.
“Yeah,” Duck nodded.
They walked up to the archway. The moon wasn’t quite high enough to activate it, but Indrid apparently had that covered. He pulled out a compact mirror and angled it to reflect the moonbeams in. The portal glowed to life, and Indrid gestured for Duck to go first. Duck stepped into the portal. He closed his eyes instinctively, but he was through before he even registered the shift.
Indrid walked up behind Duck. “So, the place we’re going is a little out of the way.”
“What do you mean?” Duck asked.
“Well, there’s this place, up on a ridge, a few miles out of town, that overlooks the ocean. It’s the best place to see the lights, but it’s a long walk,” Indrid said.
“You’re saying it like you have a different plan,” Duck said.
“Yes, uh, if you want to, I could carry you, and I could fly us there fairly quickly,” Indrid said.
“I-- is that safe?” Duck asked.
“I mean, I won’t drop you, unless you’re wiggling too much for me to keep hold of,” Indrid said.
“Are you sure?” Duck asked.
Indrid started backtracking. “We don’t have to, I just thought it might save us some time--”
“No, it’s okay, we can do that,” Duck said.
“Okay. Like I said, hold still,” Indrid said.
He took his glasses off. Duck didn’t flinch this time; he’d seen Indrid’s Sylph form enough times to be chill about it. Especially here in Sylvain, where there was no fear of getting caught. Duck froze in place as Indrid wrapped his two sets of spindly arms around him.
“You can breathe, Duck,” Indrid said, sounding slightly amused. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”
“Okay,” Duck said. He was suddenly viscerally aware of just how close this maneuver would force them to be. Indrid was looking down at him with his glowing red eyes. Duck swallowed and put his hands on Indrid’s fuzzy shoulders. Indrid was really soft.
Indrid took off almost immediately. Duck’s stomach dropped as they raced through the air, almost completely parallel to the ground. Indrid’s arms were tight around him, but it was still terrifying. Duck buried his face in Indrid’s shoulder so he couldn’t look down. Duck thought he heard Indrid make a sound. Between the air rushing past and Duck’s pounding pulse, he couldn’t tell if he imagined it. Less than a minute later, Duck felt the impact of Indrid landing. He was still clutching Indrid’s shoulders like his life depended on it. Indrid released Duck, and Duck stepped backwards awkwardly.
“Are you okay?” Indrid asked, putting his glasses on.
“Yeah,” Duck said. He felt a little bit like he was dying, but he would be okay.
“It’s a little bit farther this way,” Indrid said.
They were at the bottom of the hill, and at the top was a broken down windmill and several cracked gravestones. Indrid was starting to go up the hill, and Duck had to jog to keep up with him. Not that Duck was slow, but Indrid just had really long legs. The hill wasn’t too steep, luckily. When they finally reached the top, Duck understood why Indrid had chosen this particular place.
It was beautiful. The hill turned out to be the edge of a cliff, looking out over the ocean like Indrid had described. They walked up to a decrepit wooden railing. It was the only thing between them and a long drop. Well, that and Indrid’s predict-o-vision. Duck looked away from Indrid to admire the scene in front of them. The sun had just finished setting, and the aurora effect was starting to appear. Orange and purple lights, different from the green on Earth, were flickering across the twilight sky. Duck watched in awe as thin stripes of yellow and blue entangled themselves with the other colors.
All of a sudden, a bolt of rainbow light shot down and shocked the ocean below. Duck jumped back, and Indrid looked over at him. A light mist was rising around them.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Indrid said, “It does that, at least here.”
“Alright. It won’t hurt us, right?” Duck asked.
“Not unless you happen to be very electrically charged,” Indrid said.
“I dunno, this sweater’s pretty staticky,” Duck said, trying to joke away his embarrassment.
“I think you’ll be fine,” Indrid smiled.
“How many times have you seen this happen?” Duck asked.
“A lot. I used to make a point of seeing them every time they took place, wherever that may be. Since I’ve moved to Earth, that hasn’t been possible. But I’ve tried to come at least once a year, usually around this time,” Indrid said.
“Does anything ever go wrong?” Duck said.
“Not really, and nothing seems to go wrong this time. Unless you want it to, of course,” Indrid grinned.
“I’m good, I think it’d be better if things didn’t go wrong,” Duck said.
“Of course,” Indrid said. He was looking out at the lights, and Duck watched the reflections dance in his glasses before seeing it for himself.
The lights were more steady now. They formed a solid silver band with streaks of every color imaginable. Duck figured there were more colors in it that he couldn’t even see. Another prismatic dart hit the waves below, sending more fog up the cliffside. It was followed by a chilly wind, and Duck thought he heard a noise in the distance. It was either wind chimes or screaming, and he wasn’t sure which one was more terrifying. He moved a little bit closer to Indrid, for safety reasons.
“Y’know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen these in person,” Duck said.
“Is that so?” Indrid replied. Duck nodded. “Well, I’m glad I can finally show you something you don’t know about.”
“To be fair, that’s anything that doesn’t involve pine trees or video games,” Duck said. Indrid laughed.
“You are smart, Duck, whether you’ll admit it or not,” Indrid said. Duck shook his head. Indrid was just being nice.
Besides, the lights were starting to change again. This time, they formed concentric rings of varying colors. In the center was a sharp pinpoint of white light, which sent another shock into the sea. Apparently, that sent the humidity into overdrive, because it immediately began snowing.
Duck watched a single flake land on Indrid’s knuckle. It didn’t even melt once it settled on his skin. Without even thinking about it, Duck reached over to brush it off. He realized his mistake mid-brush. It was too late to retreat, though, so he committed to it. As he began to pull back, Indrid wordlessly flipped his hand over. Duck stared at it blankly. Then he realized that Indrid was offering to hold hands.
Should he? Shit. He was gonna hesitate too long and make it weird. Friends could hold hands. What if that wasn’t what Indrid wanted though? No, don’t be stupid, Indrid was usually pretty clear about his hints. Not that he had given any hints. Wait, had Indrid been hinting things? Duck was panicking. He wanted to take Indrid’s hand, but he didn’t want to--
Indrid cut his quickly-crashing train of thought off by interlacing his fingers with Duck’s. Butterflies immediately took residence in Duck’s stomach. It was different than the fear from being carried through the air, though he had felt this then too. He was beginning to realize what exactly he was feeling and tried to shut that shit down as fast as he could. He looked away from Indrid, back to the quickly evaporating ocean.
The horizon was completely masked by fog now. Duck watched the glow of the lights in the growing clouds. It was… magical, for lack of a better word. Well, it probably was literally magical, but whatever. Duck felt energized, or maybe inspired. Like he could do anything. He understood why Indrid would want to see them as often as possible.
“Are you having fun?” Indrid asked.
The lights started to fade. Duck watched the last of the blue lights dissipate before looking back at Indrid. He answered honestly, “Yeah, this is great.”
“Good,” Indrid said softly. He moved his hands from the rickety wooden post, taking Duck’s hand with them. Duck didn’t let go. “There’s another place I want to show you.”
“Are we gonna fly again?” Duck asked.
“No, it’s not too far. A… twenty-three minute walk, assuming nothing happens,” Indrid said.
“Cool,” Duck said.
Indrid matched pace with Duck this time. Their hands were still entwined. Duck didn’t know if he was supposed to let go, but Indrid seemed fine with it. They walked along the cliffside for a bit, until they turned down a cracked sidewalk leading into an abandoned neighborhood. Indrid pushed the rusty gate open casually.
“I promise I’m not gonna murder you,” Indrid said.
“See now, that sounds like something a murderer would say,” Duck said. He wasn’t really worried, but he hoped Indrid knew what he was doing.
“What’s something a murderer wouldn’t say?” Indrid said.
“I dunno, Indrid, I’m not one, so I couldn’t tell you their vocabulary,” Duck said. Indrid laughed. Duck smiled too, but it felt like even more butterflies, moths even, were in his gut.
Abruptly, Indrid stopped. Duck almost tripped. They were standing in front of a mansion that was overgrown with dark vines and weeds. Indrid turned and started walking up the path to the door. Duck trailed behind him, still clinging to Indrid's hand.
“Hey Indrid, what is this place?” Duck asked.
“This used to be my house,” Indrid said, “The kingdom of Sylvain has gotten smaller since I last lived here, clearly.”
Indrid let go of Duck’s hand. He gave the front door a solid shove. It opened inwards, though from the sounds it made it wasn’t supposed to. Duck followed Indrid inside.
“Nice place,” Duck said. He could tell that it had been magnificent, though it looked a little run down.
“Thanks,” Indrid laughed, “There’s not much to, uh, do here, but…”
Indrid walked over to a huge ornate fireplace. The glass screen had been punched out, but he didn’t seem to mind. Indrid kicked a few ashy logs around. Then he reached down to touch one of them. He held his hand there, but he looked confused. Nothing was happening. Duck guessed that some sort of fire was supposed to appear. Indrid stood up and brushed the soot from his fingers.
“Looks like no fire then,” Indrid muttered.
“Baby it’s cold in-side,” Duck sang jokingly.
“Please don’t make me stay,” Indrid continued with a grin. Duck laughed. “I think there’s some candles in the closet, I’ll try to get those going.”
“You want any help?” Duck asked.
“No, thank you,” Indrid said, his smile widening just a little too far. “Make yourself at home, I think there’s some furniture that’s still intact upstairs.”
“Alright,” Duck said.
Indrid walked down a hallway. He was familiar with the place, obviously, because it used to be his house. Duck wondered how often Indrid came back here. There didn’t seem to be any personal touches, but Duck didn’t know if it had been like that before whatever happened to the place. He felt awkward, like he didn’t know what he was allowed to touch. Duck figured he should just follow Indrid’s instructions and go upstairs.
The huge spiral staircase was hard to miss. As Duck started to climb it, every step creaked like the whole thing would topple over. Maybe it wasn’t built for humans who weighed more than twenty pounds. For a second, Duck considered the possibility that the stairs were entirely for show, because Indrid could fly. Nonetheless, he reached the top without falling to his death.
Perhaps the most noticeable part of the top story of this house was the lack of a roof. Duck had thought for a moment that the glass was really clean. Then a snowflake landed on him. He brushed it off and went over to a corner where some of the beams still supported decaying shingles. Some chairs and couches covered in threadbare sheets were shoved together there.
One eggplant-colored loveseat was uncovered at the edge of the pile, facing out towards the cliff. Duck sat down on it and idly watched the snow fall. Indrid appeared a few moments later. He had taken off his glasses in order to carry four candles, and from the cinnamon and lavender wafting through the air, they were scented.
“Sorry about all this, I realize it isn’t very interesting to most people,” Indrid said, “Unfortunately abandoned buildings don’t have any utilities. We can go back to Earth if you want.”
“No, it’s fine!” Duck said. He realized that might sound fake, so he added, “I mean, It’s nice, seeing more of Sylvain. I’ve only been in like, three areas of town. This is cool.”
“Are you sure? We could at least go back and watch a movie or something,” Indrid said.
“Nah, look, we got a fire,” Duck said, gesturing to the candles Indrid was holding. “Well, scented candles, but they are on fire, so it counts.”
“If you’re sure,” Indrid said. Duck nodded. Indrid set the candles on a marble end table, put his glasses back on, and pointed into the sky. “The moon’s going to appear there in just under three minutes.”
“Is it gonna shoot lightning at me too?” Duck grinned.
“No, unless you insult it,” Indrid said.
“For real?” Duck raised his eyebrows.
“No,” Indrid laughed.
Duck smiled. The butterflies were back again. Honestly, at this point he should just acknowledge that they were moths. He put his arm behind Indrid on the back of the sofa. Real smooth, Duck. He tried to stop thinking so hard about it, but Indrid leaned back and rested his head on Duck’s shoulder. Duck just about died.
“Are you alright?” Indrid asked.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m great,” Duck said, “Are you alright? Is anything gonna go wrong?”
“I don’t think so,” Indrid smiled, “I mean, like I said earlier, we can have a bad time if we make it bad.”
“Well, I’m having a really good time,” Duck said. He didn’t know how he suddenly became cool for that one second, but it clearly wasn’t going to last. He was still wildly aware of Indrid’s head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad,” Indrid said, “It’s Christmas Eve. Everything’s perfect.”
“Do you even celebrate Christmas?” Duck asked.
“I celebrate eggnog season,” Indrid said.
“Fair enough,” Duck smiled.
The moon, like Indrid said, appeared through the fog. The fog that was steadily rising from the sea. Duck pretended not to notice as it obscured the horizon, and even the tops of some nearby houses. He focused on the full, glowing moon. It was larger than Earth’s moon by a lot. In fact, it seemed to be pulling the tides up, because Duck could hear the crashing of waves that he couldn’t hear earlier.
Then, almost as fast as it appeared, the moon was gone. Swallowed by the clouds. And it was getting pretty dark, even with the dim light of the candles. Duck reached into his jacket pocket with his free arm and pulled out his flashlight. He aimed it down and clicked it on.
“--always prepared,” Indrid mumbled.
“What was that?” Duck smiled.
“I said ‘of course you’re always prepared,’” Indrid said, looking up at Duck.
“It’s my job,” Duck said. He held the flashlight up under his chin. “Did you know… that this very house… is haunted by… a guy who once mixed Capri Sun with eggnog!”
Indrid burst into laughter, leaning forward and almost falling off the sofa. Duck was a little bit surprised at first. He had never seen Indrid lose composure like this. He didn’t realize it was that funny, but he really liked the sound of Indrid’s laugh, so he didn’t care. Indrid came back to Duck's shoulder and was snickering into his chest.
“Is that really how you would describe me to a group of terrified twelve-year-olds?” Indrid asked between breathless giggles.
“Look, I was just trying to think of the most terrifying thing you do,” Duck said.
“And you went with the Capri Sun thing, that happened one time,” Indrid said.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Duck said.
“I still don’t think it was that bad. Besides, it was your idea,” Indrid said.
“As a joke, Indrid! I wouldn’t actually make you drink that,” Duck said.
“But I did it, and it wasn’t that bad,” Indrid shrugged.
“I’m feeling sick just thinking about it,” Duck grimaced. He passed Indrid the flashlight. “You got any scary stories you wanna tell?”
“Hmmm…” Indrid sat up a little bit. He was angled slightly away from Duck, like he was addressing an invisible audience. “Gather ‘round children, let me tell you the tale of a man who hates his sword! You can hear him walking through the woods at night, cursing out the sword that he uses like a belt! But the scariest part about this man, you may ask? The sword talks back! Cue screaming and mayhem.”
Duck had been hanging on attentively, until the last sentence when Indrid turned to look at Duck. Indrid’s deadpan delivery was so perfect. Duck tried to hold in his laughter so he wouldn’t jostle Indrid too much, but he couldn’t help it. Indrid leaned away a little bit, still holding the flashlight. The LED beam caught on the fog that was closing in. Duck calmed down a little bit, and Indrid returned to his position against Duck’s chest.
It was quiet for a moment. Duck watched the candles flicker in the breeze. More fog was rolling in. Indrid didn’t seem bothered by it. If they hadn’t been so close, Duck would barely be able to see him. He brought his arm down around Indrid’s shoulders and tangled their hands together. Indrid sighed.
“I’m glad you’re here, Duck,” Indrid said.
“I’m glad you took me here,” Duck said.
“Of course,” Indrid said, “I haven’t been able to share nights like these in a very long time. And I thought you might especially appreciate it.”
He sat up and separated himself from Duck, but their hands were still together. Duck wondered if he had done something wrong. Indrid didn’t look upset. He didn’t look much of anything. The fog was too thick to make out Indrid’s expression.
“I think I’m going to have to leave Kepler,” Indrid said.
Duck frowned. He tried to figure out how Indrid’s mind reached that particular idea. He couldn’t do it. He just looked at Indrid, unable to form a coherent response.
“It’s not because of you, that’s for sure. It’s… I won’t spoil the future for you, but basically there will be a group of people who will take any chance to attack Sylphs. And one of them has already seen my Sylph form, so I’m in a lot of danger there,” Indrid explained.
“Is there anything I could do to prevent that? Like, I dunno. You could stay at my place until they leave?” Duck offered.
“Moving in right after the first date,” Indrid laughed, “I don’t know, Duck, it’s too hazy to tell right now. Like I said, it’s not that I want to leave.”
Duck heard what Indrid said. And then he processed it. And then he understood it. And then he got it. “Has this been a date the whole time?”
Indrid’s expression got stuck somewhere between surprised and concerned. “I didn’t say that part out loud, did I?”
“No,” Duck said, “But it’s-- I mean, yeah, I do want to be on this date and other dates that may happen in the future.”
“That’s why you were so freaked out about holding my hand earlier,” Indrid realized with a smile.
“Yeah, I… yeah,” Duck said, looking down.
“Sorry, I just-- this is on me, I didn’t tell you we were on a date,” Indrid said.
“Well, I feel like context clues should have tipped me off somewhere,” Duck said.
“I think we were operating under two different contexts,” Indrid said, “I mean, in Sylvain, especially around the winter solstice, it’s a romantic thing to go see the auroras. But you had no way of knowing that, so I should have said something.”
“It was nice, either way. I mean, I like that this is a date, but even if it wasn’t it’s been pretty cool so far,” Duck said, “In fact, I think we should do this more often.”
“I can’t stay in Kepler, Duck,” Indrid said.
“Will you come back?” Duck asked.
“I… I’ll do my best. I might have to change my disguise,” Indrid said.
“Are you gonna make yourself a carbon copy of Ryan Gosling too?” Duck grinned.
“No,” Indrid laughed, “No, I… I’ll figure it out. But for now, I can stay right here, with you.”
Duck looked up at Indrid. Indrid tilted his head to the side. Then, like an unspoken agreement had been reached, they leaned forward. Duck wrapped his arms around Indrid’s waist, and Indrid’s hands landed on Duck’s shoulders. They stopped, only millimeters apart. Duck could finally see Indrid’s compound eyes through his glasses. He pushed past the final distance and connected their lips.
Indrid immediately made a pleased noise. Duck’s nerves were going wild. He couldn’t believe it; he was kissing Indrid. Indrid was kissing him. And they were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fog. It was a series of a hundred perfect moments in Duck’s mind, and it kept going. Indrid’s freezing hand had moved up to Duck’s neck. Duck tried not to shiver, but Indrid was really cold. He tried to counter that by essentially pulling Indrid onto his lap.
High above them, masked by the clouds, a final strand of the aurora flickered. A green strand and a red strand reached out to each other, and when they finally connected, a shot of amber light arched across the sky.