Day 21: Fantasy

It was neither a gift nor a curse. For future surgeon Logan Mitchell, seeing fey creatures was a fact of life. The ability was imbedded in their bloodline, passed down to the eldest male of every other generation. It was probably why he was closest to his grandparents while growing up – his grandfather was a Seer and his grandmother was a fey enthusiast.

Of course, the ability has its down sides: Logan became the introverted type. His mother had accepted early on that her son wouldn't be one to go out and make friends with his schoolmates, or even with the playground kids. And why should he, when there were infinitely more fascinating creatures in their backyard? They taught him more about the natural order of things than his science teachers ever did.

The move to California following the death of his grandparents was hard for the whole family. Logan, especially, because it meant leaving the only real friends he'd known all his life. The temptation to join them in their realm was presented to him none too subtly, promises of wonder and bliss filled his ears but Logan resisted, for the sake of his parents if no one else.

Nobody really transfers to the tenth grade so Logan was understandably alone on his first day. He was fixing things up in his locker at the end of the day when he felt it – a soft chime like a bell ringing in his head. Logan dropped his books, all senses attuned to this magical presence like a physical pull.

The halls were fairly populated that afternoon but there was still plenty of space to maneuver if Logan needed to give chase... or run away, he still wasn't sure. He turned sideways, facing the East Hall corner and – what was that? it? he?

Glitter was embedded on tan skin, near imperceptible to the normal gaze but Logan's trained eyes caught it easily. Longish chestnut hair looked impossibly smooth, glossed over by the golden sun. And his eyes...

He was coming his way.

Logan wanted nothing more than to hide in his locker but the sudden weight at the pit of his stomach kept him immobile.

The group of four walked down the hallway like they owned the place and like some twisted ploy of destiny, the fairylike stranger was situated nearest to where Logan stood. He held his breath, trying to quell the anxiety building up inside him but it was impossible given the sudden burst of fragrance that flooded his senses.

"Fey."

The word left him in a stricken whisper just as the impossible teen passed him.

For a second, the guy seemed to stop and fix him with a stare. Logan's own eyes were wide, realizing that he was heard. Heart pounding loud in his ears, Logan thought he saw those eyes flash sliver before the guy moved on.

James Diamond.

Logan learned the name easily enough. The hard part came with keeping his observations undetected while an inkling at the back of his mind told him he was being watched. At the cafeteria, in the halls, early in the morning when he's stepping off the bus, at the end of the day as he's leaving the grounds – Logan couldn't shake off the feeling of those silvery eyes on him.

The library became his refuge, its comforting mix of stuffy pages and Wi-Fi access peeling away the toughness he'd cloaked himself with to survive the school day. Today he'd hidden himself at the History and Geography shelves, unseeing the titles with one hand on a book he couldn't identity as his mind replayed the incident that has been haunting him since lunch period.

He was sharing a table with his science lab group when the hairs at his nape stood and forced him to look behind him. A group of kids with their lunch trays passed, revealing James staring at him from three tables over. Logan's throat dried up. It wasn't an angry look, but it wasn't a happy one either. There was a confused twist on James' lips as he blatantly stared, ignoring the animated conversation going on at his own table.

Logan tried to play it cool, raising a brow in question but he doubted he got the right message across considering the fact that his hands felt numb with how tight he'd fisted them over his knees under the table.

For a couple of seconds nothing happened, and then James smoothly turned away.

Normally, Logan would've just buried the memory deep but he couldn't because no matter how many times this had happened before, James has never let himself get caught. Until today. Logan found it difficult to focus on his afternoon classes with James' face constantly at his periphery. What was that supposed to mean?

"I need this," a voice whispered from beside him, a warm touch descending on the back of his hand.

Logan jerked to attention, staring at the hand resting over his on the book's spine – long digits, manicured nails, a repressed glimmer under tan skin. He turned his head so fast he might've broken it.

James stood beside him, eyeing him sideways.

His heart missed a beat, then he pulled his hand away like he'd touched a live wire. "Sorry," Logan muttered, backing away.

With easy grace, James pulled the book out and cradled it against his hip. Tilting his head, he asked. "Why did you say that?"

"What?" Logan blinked. "I mean, I was kind of blocking the book so–"

"I'm not talking about the book," James clarified, stepping towards Logan.

Instinct told Logan to put some distance between them but a wooden edge pressing on the small of his back hindered his movements. He gulped, looking into James' eyes which flashed silver just to put them on the same page. "Oh... that."

"I don't know what you are," James whispered, staring Logan down with a hooded gaze. "But it'll be best if you stay away from me."

Days passed since they had their 'talk' at the library and Logan was starting to breathe easier now that James wasn't hawking on him. He understood that James felt threatened, it wasn't the first time that fey creatures responded in a less than positive matter to his ability and he was just thankful that James chose the civil route.

Back at home, things were finally settling in nicely. Bernard, a fire drake that Logan had found already living in their home when they moved in, had taken it as his duty to introduce Logan to the locals. By locals, of course, he meant other fey-folk.

Logan was running an errand for his mother, running late as usual because he'd spent too much time being fascinated by the neighbor's garden gnomes and the tales of their Halloween antics. Bernard was curled invisibly over his shoulders, glad to be out of the house, causing little hijinks now and then but never going too far since that was their agreement. They entered the grocery store and took out the checklist Mrs. Mitchell had made before she left for work earlier that morning.

Grocery bags were placed carefully in the basket of his bike and Logan began pedaling home. He rode through the park where a sour water nymph waved wistfully as he passed. Turning right at the central fountain, Logan faltered and nearly crashed into a lamp post.

Bernard raised his head in alarm, wet snout nudging at Logan's cold cheek.

Looking around, Logan kicked down the bike stand, clutching a hand to his chest. It felt like heartburn but Logan's grandfather had taught him enough to know the difference. Scanning the trees and benches around him, Logan's worry only increased as the shroud of night time overcame them. A cut-off cry came from his left and that was as good as any clue. Placing Bernard on his bike and instructing him to stay put, Logan dashed off through the shrubbery.

He stopped in a clearing painted in hues of blue, the temperature there was near-arctic and there was James and – wait – James? Logan looked to the other corner to find a ball of bright blue fire hovering in midair.

"Get out of here!"

The shout startled Logan. James was staring at him, eyes all-silver. His clothes were rumpled and a bit sullied at the corners but he was still standing, albeit breathing harshly.

Taking James' apparent distraction as an opportunity, the fireball charged, growing in size as it came closer to impacting.

Logan didn't have time to think. He put one foot back, straightened his shoulders, and focused all his attention to James' attacker. The fiery ball burst into nothing but a zephyr that ruffled the leaves. He turned back to James, suddenly feeling self-conscious with the intensity of the stare directed at him.

"What did you do?" James asked, silvery eyes turning back to normal.

"I... Dispersal spell," Logan answered, fighting the urge to run away. "My grandfather taught me."

"That wasn't English," James pointed out, walking over with narrowed eyes.

Logan shook his head instead of answering.

James stopped a foot away from Logan, his shadow falling over the shorter teen. "I told you to stay away from me."

Biting his lip, Logan hazarded a guess. "Is it because that" he nodded towards the now-empty clearing "happens often?"

"That's actually the first one in almost a year." James' hands found their way to the pockets of his jeans. "I guess I should thank you for taking care of that."

"No problem."

The wind blew cold air to fill the silence between them, eventually carrying over a wail that sounded like the creak of old floorboards. Logan bit off a curse at having forgotten the time. "I got to go," he took a tentative step back, still looking up at James. "Bernard's calling."

"That didn't sound human," James frowned at him.

Logan found himself laughing, if a bit awkwardly. "That he isn't." When James continued to stare at him, Logan gave a shrug. "He's a good guy, though... would you want to meet him?"

James' mouth opened like he was going to say something but then stopped himself. He pressed his lips together, finally breaking eye contact. "You... you should go."

"Are you going to be okay?" Logan asked.

"I'm actually rather late." James glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Cam's going to throw a bitch fit." He looked at Logan, a hint of a smile on him. "I'll see you around, Logan."