There was a man standing at the forest's edge.
Harry, a morose man of remarkable achievement, stood alone on the forest floor, gazing over leaf littered floor with his empty sapphire pools. His mahogany hair danced lightly in the autumn breeze. He tried to deny the stirrings in his heart, resting his cheek against one hand as he traced a finger along his silver necklace. He wore a multihued featureless robe, covering him from head to foot. His hair was woven into a cinnamon braid, complementing his despairingtawny visage. A mahogany growth of hair adorned his chin. He stood, awaiting his love.
On that day, the shadows of his past had become unbearable. Meeting Dean brought some light into his life for the first time in a long while. He was his salvation. From then on, Harry was sometimes needy and close, but then suddenly cold and fearful. Dean tried his best to hide his pain, but it was plain in his depths. That was how it was to this very day.
"Harry," Dean said simply with a smile on his face. His aurulent pools complimented his emerald locks, brushing against his ears, belying his gentle heart. He was dressed in that exotic fashion in which he was most comfortable. He had a toned but slender body covered with Auburn skin. Beautiful wings were folded against his back. As Harry drew nearer, he caught a note of Dean's familiar perfume: sandalwood, earthy and spicy. His globes softened. It always reminded him of the time they shared.
"Dean. I feared you might not come," Harry whispered.
"Of course I came," he said, sounding somewhat hurt.
Harry shook his head. "Everyone else abandoned me."
"I won't leave you," Dean said firmly. Dean held his hand out to him, and hesitantly Harry took that, they began to walk along the forest path.
Harry's mind was flooded by painful thoughts. He clung tightly to Dean's firm hand as if it could save Harry. He was not supposed to be involved like this, torn between this and country, and never good enough. Dean, strong as he was, wouldn't possibly be willing to bear his burdens.
"What is it, Harry?" Dean suddenly asked.
"N-nothing," Harry whispered. "Why do you ask...?"
"Your hand is so tense." Harry let his head droop and let go. He was always causing Dean trouble... "I don't mean it like that. I mean if something's bothering you, you should tell me."
"No... Dean, I couldn't..."
Dean looked at Harry long and hard. Dean was struggling to understand what it was that plagued Harry, but to Harry, it seemed like he was glaring at him.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm always so..."
"Always so... what?"
"..."
Dean gave Harry a long and measured look. "You'll tell me when you're ready, won't you?"
Harry gave the faintest of nods. But of course he could not imagine ever feeling ready to tell him his secrets. In truth, Harry hardly even deserved him. Harry was ... Always falling tied to the burden of commitment. Wounded by the unexplainable.
Harry was unworthy of his time. The very thought of that brought tears to his eyes, and he looked away from Dean to hide them. But he couldn't hide the sobs that shook him.
"Harry." Harry rubbed the tears from his eyes. "Harry, look, you need to tell me. You're so upset..."
"There's something that may be... keeping us apart."
"Then we'll fight it together."
"I can barely put it into words. You've treated me so well, and I never want this to change."
"It won't change. Never."
"It's... I'm..." Harry's shoulders shook, and he buried his face in his hands. "Forget it! Let's just..."
Dean put an assuring arm around Harry's shoulders and brought him toward himself. "It will be alright. It's all right... I'm here. I'm here."
After a few moments, they found themselves walking down the forest path again. Harry couldn't stop thinking about his incomprehensible secret. It plagued him endlessly - while he was far from Dean and while he was near. It threatened to consume him. When Harry had let the faintest hints slip in the moments before, it had already taken, taken so much of his will.
With concern, Dean turned his seraphic spheres toward Harry. "Harry? What's wrong?"
"Dean... it's..."
And at that moment everything came together, all of the magic and the anger, the fear the guilt that had been building that day, and he locked his orbs with his and whispered, "You can tell me."
It was like a floodgate burst, or some barrier of fear had been struck down. Harry shook his head and everything came out at once. "I don't know if I can put it into words. I... lately... it might not even be just lately... It's nothing. It's nothing! Dean, I... it hurts, Dean... there's nothing that helps. Except that... sometimes, I feel a bit better when you're by my side..."
Dean listened silently and solemnly. At last, when all the words had left Harry and he was at a loss for words, Dean reached out to him and took a deep breath to whisper back, "Harry... you're not alone. I know what it's like - it happened to me too. I know that pain. My incomprehensible secret... sometimes it still comes back to haunt me. I know it's not easy." Dean placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry's eyes began to burn, and he abruptly pulled Dean into a fierce embrace. Dean's spheres widened at first, but then he too felt overwhelmed by emotion and succumbed to the warmth of Harry's touch.
"You," Harry whispered, his breath hot on Dean's ear. "As long as you're here, I... I can make it."They held each other as tears trickled down cheeks and dripped onto the shifting leaves of the forest floor. the leaves with their tears to be carried away with the autumn breeze. With time and soothing embraces, their pain dissipated into a mist swept out by the autumn breeze and into the setting sun seen above the trees of the forest.
They basked in each other's quiet companionship for a few moments.
"Look... it's the sunset."
Harry lifted his head at Dean's words to behold the dying sun's carrot-colored radiance. "Mm."
After a moment of silence, Dean took Harry's hands in his and said quietly and seriously, "Harry, I need to say something. Without you, I would be the sea without the moon - the moon without the sun - You are irreplaceable to me."
"Dean," he breathed in response. "I'm... I'm not that special."
"You are," Dean insisted, sounding almost hurt. "I'm not lying."
"I don't mean to say you're lying. Just that... never mind. Dean... you're... precious to me as well."
Dean brought their clasped hands to his lips. "Then... so long as you will it, we will never be parted."
Harry sighed with contentment and brought Dean closer. He gazed at the beautiful honey-colored rays of the falling sun, thinking about everything that had transpired on this day and all that would pass between them.
"You'll hurt your eyes doing that," Dean whispered.
Harry looked at him instead. "I love you, Dean."
"I love you too, Harry."
Their lips met, and bronze strands met vert ones, aflame in the dying light. The animals of the forest was their witness and the noises of wild live their approving audience, and Dean, his eternally faithful lover. Harry thought to himself that nothing had ever been so perfect for him as this.
