The Seventh Chapter

Later that night, when it was time for both to sleep, Lukas looked uneasy. Mikkel didn't ask why, although he could notice and was concerned. "Goodnight, Lukas," he said, blowing out the lamp. Lukas didn't reply and the man thought he had already fallen asleep.

In the middle of a dream about a holiday he'd taken years ago, Mikkel was awoken by a shriek that made him sit up straight in his bed. His heart pounded against his rib cage and he looked around, fumbling with his matchbox to light the lamp. When he surveyed the room, there was nothing, but Lukas was under his blanket. "Lukas?"

The fairy wailed loudly. His body fidgeted and he didn't come out from the cloth cocoon he'd made until Mikkel put a hand on his back. When he tossed the blanket aside, Lukas was crying and muttering between shaky breaths. Mikkel lifted him up, held him in his palm, and kept him close. "What is it?" He asked.

"I could see the wolf and I woke up," he whined. Mikkel rubbed his eyes, stood, and carried him downstairs with a lamp in tow. "Lukas, there are no wolves on the island." The clock read two a.m. and even knowing how early it was made Mikkel groan. "Tell me exactly what it looked like."

"It was white and brown and had yellow teeth and long hairs coming out on its cheeks," he said, wiping away his tears. "It had sharp teeth. They were as big as my head."

"Lukas, how big was the wolf?"

He stood up, flying less than a foot away. "From where I was to here. It was long." Mikkel smiled faintly, containing his amusement. "Ah. So," he held his hands up, showing him about eight inches of space between them. "The wolf was this big?"

The fairy nodded, settling in Mikkel's palm again. The man took out his notepad, his pencils, and set the lamp down close to the paper. He drew out the animal and said, "Is this what it looked like?" Lukas stared at it and cried again. The man closed the book, laughing nervously. "Sorry! Sorry. Don't worry! It was just a weasel, it wasn't a wolf, and if I'm here, a weasel isn't going to get to you. They're afraid of me, you know."

"They better be," he choked out. Mikkel wiped a tear from his cheek and carried him back in the bedroom. "A weasel could never get into the house! If it did, I'd pick it up and toss it out! It would be afraid of the both of us."

Lukas relaxed in the others hand, refusing to get off when Mikkel tried to put him down. "I don't want to sleep," he said, giving Mikkel a glare and grasping his ring finger. "Not after that."

"Lukas, I'm sorry, but I am really, really tired."

He just gave him a blank look, then his eyes lowered and he wiped at them as if he was going to cry again. "Alright, alright, Lukas! I suppose I'm not too tired. Ah, I have an idea! I'll continue to hold you if you answer another question. But it should be thorough!"

"I suppose that's okay," the other said, closing his eyes and yawning. Mikkel leaned against the bedpost, covered up, and set his hand down on his thigh, thinking of the questions he'd written. "Let's see. Is there such thing as fairy culture? Do fairies have special dances or songs? Or foods?"

Lukas hugged his hand, moving a finger down so he could be more comfortable. "I think all of the fairies must make noises. Singing is a noise. There is no… thinking for language. There is no words, or speaking."

Mikkel nodded faintly. That explained why Lukas couldn't talk at all when they first met.

"Mikkel, I need to say something. It's about your questions."

"Yes, what is it?"

He looked over at the wall, shaking his head. "I do not know the answers," he admitted. "Why do you care? You told me it was because I was a fairy and you want to make a book. Mikkel, I," There was a pause and Mikkel watched him, ghosting a finger over his back gently and giving a reassuring smile. "Mikkel, fairy tales are not right."

"Well, they are stories, yes. Why do you bring them up?" He quizzed. Lukas licked his lips, shook his head, and shut his eyes. "Magic is not real," he murmured into his hand. Mikkel raised an eyebrow, looking at his face to read his expression, though he went through long apathetic spells where he was nearly impossible to see through. "Why do you say that magic isn't real? You're real!"

The fairy was silent again. This time, he didn't speak for a moment, and when he did, it was strained. "I am not magic. I am an animal. Like the butterfly you showed me yesterday."

"You're tired, Lukas. You'll feel better once you get more sleep."

"I am an animal. I cannot answer your questions."

"I don't mind at all that you can't always answer the questions thoroughly. I think it would be easiest for me, but I want to hear your thoughts on yourself. There is no pressure behind them."

Lukas didn't respond this time. He didn't mention that Mikkel was the only human who had glasses covering his eyes, something he'd noticed in the village, and he didn't mention that he had a collection of pinned insects in one of the cabinets that had been left open. When Mikkel had shown him a butterfly, he had prodded at it and picked at it, and it reminded him of his own treatment by the man. He had been smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

"Are you alright, Lukas?"

Lukas wasn't. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his breaths shook, but not enough to be noticed. He nodded and curled up, burying his face in his knees. Mikkel watched with interest. He expected the fairy to speak again, but he was silent. After a minute, the man rocked him back and forth, cradling him in his palm and blowing out the lamp again in hopes that both would be able to sleep again.

When Mikkel woke up in the morning, he opened his notebook to his list of questions about the fairy and drew a line through "do they have the ability to feel a large range of emotions?", eliminating it completely.

As the days passed, Mikkel noticed that Lukas seemed more distant and he couldn't understand why. He thought that he'd accidentally mistreated him. Perhaps fairies needed to be comforted differently than humans did, but that didn't seem to be the case, either. When he tried to ask Lukas what comforted him, he shrugged and didn't answer.

It was depressing to see the fairy this way. Mikkel wanted to change his mood any way possible. Whenever he gave him sweets, that almost worked, but not quite. When the behavior appeared to be endless, Mikkel confronted Lukas about it. "You are upset, I can tell," he said. The fairy started to fly away, but the man grabbed his leg and pulled him back down. "Lukas, please talk to me and tell me why you seem to be so upset with me!"

Lukas stopped struggling and dropped into his hand with an exasperated sigh, but he wouldn't speak, and Mikkel couldn't make him speak. After a minute of being ignored he released him and watched him flutter over to the fireplace so that he could lay across the mantle for a nap.

While he was sleeping, Mikkel decided to continue his study of butterflies, something he had been doing off and on since Lukas' arrival. He managed to catch one, a type that he hadn't been able to catch since he came to the island, and brought it over to the microscope. It fluttered rapidly, trying to escape, and it was making the study difficult. He finally had to trap it under a jar. Of course it still tried to escape the jar, but eventually it settled at the bottom.

Mikkel sketched it out, humming softly under his breath so that Lukas wouldn't wake. When he lifted the glass, he expected the creature to fly away, but it was still. He tapped it with his finger as lightly as he could, but it still didn't move, not one bit. He realized it was dead. It might have been that he kept it in the jar too long. Either way, he picked it up and slid it under the microscope, spreading the wings apart with a pair of forceps and prodding at the form with another sharp tool.

"What did you do to the butterfly?"

He turned to see Lukas watching him from the mantel, his eyes and nose stained red. It looked like he had been crying, but his expression was blank. He flew over to the microscope and touched a butterfly wing softly, trying to get the creature to wake. When it didn't, he began to worry. Not just for the butterfly, but for himself. "You are terrible," he hissed.

"Lukas, you must understand that—"

"You hurt her. Look, you hurt her," he said louder, taking the butterfly in his arms and kicking the jar. Mikkel didn't stop him when he put the creature onto the windowsill. "Do not touch her."

"Now listen—"

"You want to put me in the jar and hurt me, I know it. I saw the ones you have pinned in the box. Let them go," he said lowly. Mikkel gave him a curious look, watching his eyes.

"Lukas, I study them. I am a scientist. Humans study animals and insects and bugs so that we can understand them. Sometimes, something bad happens. I do not want to do something like that to you."

"I don't believe that," he said shrilly, pushing on the butterfly again, trying to get it to leave. "Leave," he whispered. "Leave, leave."

"I think you should calm down, Lukas."

"I think you should close your mouth, you big... idiot!"

Mikkel rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Listen to me now. You are not an insect or a bug or a butterfly, you are nearly human."

"Why do you kill them? What makes it good?"

Finally, he stood up from his chair and cupped Lukas in his hands, holding him tightly. "They are not aware of death, and we are."

"Death?" He questioned. "What are you saying?

Mikkel simply stared at him. There was never a silence so thick as the one he experienced when he realized that Lukas wasn't aware that he, like everything else that ever lived, would cease to exist one day. He couldn't remember a time where he thought he would never pass, but he could remember a time where there was never a day in the year where he worried about it. Death was a pain, often literally, but the worst part of the entire experience was knowing that it was going to happen.

He refused to let him feel that pain. He tried to teach Lukas everything, but he refused to teach him about death. "Lukas," he started softly, "Death is when an animal or a bug or a human like me goes into a deep sleep."

The fairies face relaxed and he sat in the others hand. "The butterfly is okay?"

"The butterfly is absolutely okay. So are the insects pinned in the box! They were sleeping and… I didn't want anything to hurt them outside. Like the weasel! And I took them and am keeping them safe."

Lukas looked away, but he had a small smile on his lips. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry. You are not terrible, Mikkel." The apology actually made the man feel more terrible than the insult, but he forced a smile and set him down on the table, patting his head lightly. "No need to apologize, Lukas. Go back to your nap and I will cook you dinner when you wake up, alright?"

The fairy nodded, laid down, and began to sleep again. Mikkel swallowed a knot in his throat and rubbed his temples. He took a bottle of liquor out of the cabinet, grabbed a glass, and sat at the table. The first drink went fast, the second went slowly, and by the third, his head was on the table and he was muttering insults at himself.