But I know a place where we can go
That's still untouched by men
We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass waves in the wind

You can lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence

"End of the Innocence", Don Henley

After five years of friendship, spending the night at the hat house became a common occurrence.

Hatter and Hare would frequently work into the night on some project or another. Rather than trekking home in the wee hours, Hare would curl up on the chaise lounge in Hatter's room under a spare blanket his friend dug out of a closet. It was never put away again, but was instead always waiting for him.

And most nights, after they were settled and the lights were out, Hatter would talk.

Hare learned quickly that the only time his friend would engage in serious conversation was in the dark. He revealed things at his own pace, and in no logical order.

Under night's cloak, Hatter told Hare about his fear of needles and spiders. About how his first invention failed so miserably he was too scared to try again for six months. How his mother threw away his prized collection of marbles when he was twelve, so he vowed never to throw anything away again. How he now owned 523 marbles. Somewhere.

He told Hare that his father had been a talented hat maker and that, like Hare, Hatter had no brothers. He shared how he once accidentally cut a chunk of his hair out with scissors and cried for days when it had to be cut very short. He explained how his mother told him, "Long hair is for girls," and how she still hated his hair. He said his nickname had once been Scooter but didn't say at all why.

Hatter shared his fear of being alone in the dark and explained how, if Hare wasn't there, he slept with a light on.

He told Hare how his mind seemed to run faster than his body most of the time. How he would start a project, only to be distracted by another, and then another, until he couldn't remember where he started and nothing got done. Hatter confessed that his mother did not find his chaotic mind amusing, nor did she think it was a positive trait to have inherited. To Hare, it seemed his mother didn't like much about him at all.

One night, once the lights were out and it was quiet, just when Hare thought there would be no talking, Hatter said, "Sometimes, I think I'm most like my father."

Hare answered softly, "You do?"

"Oh yes. He designed and made the most exquisite hats. And he sold them in the City. He met my mother in his hat shop."

"Well," Hare agreed, "then you must be like him. You are the best hat maker in Wonderland."

"Maybe," Hatter mused. "But when I was sixteen, he started to get confused. He mixed up patterns and fabrics. At first, people thought he was being edgy. But then he started to forget how to use his tools. And then he couldn't read the orders and he got lost walking home. My mother said he went mad, and everyone in our borough started calling him The Mad Hatter."

Hare struggled with what to say. Talking to a serious Hatter was like speaking a foreign language.

"And then he died." Hatter shifted in bed. "And my mother got rid of all his things so that I wouldn't catch the madness. But, sometimes, I think…I might…I mean, because they started calling me the Mad Hatter, too…"

Hare felt a painful tug on his heart. He wanted to say something reassuring. He wanted to hug his friend, but he sensed that would break the spell.

After much debating, Hare finally said, "I think we all feel a little mad, sometimes."

But there was no response. Hatter was fast asleep.

On a spring day in the sixth year of Hatter and Hare's friendship, it rained so hard not even Hatter would step outside.

Hare stood next to him, staring out the hat house window in despair. Hare wasn't nearly as upset as his friend about their afternoon tea party being washed out, but he could feel Hatter's disappointment. It wasn't like him to be despondent. He was ever positive, always ready for the next adventure. A smile for everyone. Careless but never thoughtless. Self indulgent but never selfish. Hatter thrived on hosting his friends every day, at showcasing a new pastry. Or a new tea set that he would inevitably sweep to the ground in thoughtless excitement.

Now, the two best friends stared somberly out at the rain that ruined their afternoon.

Just as quickly as he grew melancholy, however, Hatter's face lit up. Turning to Hare, he exclaimed, "How did I not think of this before? We can watch movies! I have a whole stack I've been saving!"

"For what?" Hare asked.

Hatter cocked his head. "A rainy day."

Hare chuckled as he followed his friend into the hat house living room. Hatter swept an assortment of things off the sofa, then produced a stack of videos with a flourish.

As he looked them over, Hare stated, "You know, they have a newfangled gadget that lets you watch movies without tapes now."

Hatter looked perplexed.

"The queen has one. It's called 'streaming.'"

Hatter scoffed, "The only thing a stream is useful for is fish. Or swimming. Or both. Now pick something while I make snicky snacks."

He dropped the videos into Hare's arms before striding into the kitchen.

A half hour later, they sat with a huge bowl of popcorn watching a rom-com about star-crossed lovers. Literally. Their shooting stars crossed on separate trips across the universe. Hare found the film funny but barely plausible, even for Wonderland standards. He said as much to Hatter, who paused the film and gave him a wounded look.

"What do you mean 'it could never happen?' When you're meant to be with someone, the universe makes a way," Hatter explained with a smile.

Hare scoffed playfully. "Well, I think we make our own luck."

Hatter pretended to be hurt by his words. "You don't think fate just…brings people together sometimes?"

His eyes were so earnest Hare couldn't bear to argue. "I mean…maybe…sometimes."

Hatter smiled broadly. "I knew you'd see things my way."

Hare considered arguing further, but Hatter's shit-eating grin when he believed he was right was too adorable to dampen. Instead, he let himself slide a little closer. Just enough to feel the heat from his friend's body, to catch that scent he always carried. Hatter pressed "play" again.

Hare wasn't sure who fell asleep first.

He just remembered waking.

Hatter was beneath him, like a full-body pillow on which Hare had leaned and snuggled into. They'd thrown off their jackets and shoes and gloves earlier in anticipation of a rainy afternoon inside. Hatter's signature hat was on the kitchen table. In his half-awake state, Hare snaked his arms around his friend and nuzzled into his chest. Before he could truly wake up and process his actions, Hatter pulled him closer. Tentatively, he ran his long fingers through Hare's bushy mane and let his fingers wander over his sensitive ears.

Hare's contented chuckle and sigh brought them back to wakefulness.

Since their first tea party, they had a way of reading each other's thoughts. Finishing each other's sentences. Jumping onto each other's crazy ideas. Their bond was tight. As friends. But now, they were at a precipice. This other thing that had been buzzing between them for years had finally dared to bloom.

Hare wanted to seize it.

He also wanted to run.

Hatter was so close to him, eyes heavy lidded from sleep, hair all mussed. So Hare leaned in and kissed him. He didn't think, didn't analyze the outcome. He just closed the short distance between them and finally kissed that beautiful mouth.

When he pulled back, Hatter looked at him with wide, tumultuous eyes. Then he pulled away and slithered off the sofa, spilling the popcorn and bounding into the kitchen for more snacks.

Hare sat still, thunderstruck by what he'd just done.

They didn't talk about the kiss for three weeks.

To everyone else, not a thing had changed. Tea parties were thrown. Dishes were also thrown. Hatter tried to convert his pretzel-making machine into a pizza-making machine, which ended in both of them covered in marinara sauce. For the briefest moment, when Hatter leaned in and gently wiped sauce from his cheek, Hare felt that rush again. Almost leaned in again. But then Hatter was off searching for towels like a butterfly who lights only briefly.

Three weeks later, Hare was at Hatter's first thing in the morning. They had plans to go berry picking. The first crop of blueberries and strawberries were ripe, and Hare could almost taste the pies and muffins.

Hatter answered the door while still brushing his teeth. Hare waited, baskets in hand, while his friend scurried around, finding his hat and pulling on his shoes. They were both dressed in overalls, t-shirts, and boots, because berry picking meant hiking through the fields beyond Hatter's house. Hatter, however, still sported his top hat. Hare expected nothing else.

By lunch time, they'd nearly filled their baskets with berries. Setting them down under a huge, spreading tree, they pulled out their lunch. Hatter brought sandwiches and, of course, tea. Hare had packed fresh fruit and cheese. He smiled at how their food preferences created a kind of kismet, almost always complimenting each other.

They'd nearly finished eating when Hatter leaned back on his elbows. The sun was overhead and light filtered through the tree leaves, casting their picnic in dappled shadows. It was just warm enough to hint at summer.

"Isn't this tree beautiful, Hare?" Hatter mused. "I bet you could see all of Wonderland from the top."

Hare inspected the tree for himself. "I don't know…Wonderland is pretty big…"

Hatter was sitting upright now, eyes bright. "I bet you could see all the way to the palace!"

"Hmmm…" Hare pulled out a notepad and pencil from his coat. "Let's see…the tree is about forty feet tall…and the palace is…" He did an estimate in his head and started writing the figures down. He was struggling to remember his high school mathematics when he realized Hatter was no longer beside him. He glanced around.

And found him.

Pulling himself up into the tree.

Hare watched, open mouthed, as his friend scaled the sprawling branches.

"Come on, Hare! It's amazing up here!"

Hare shook his head. He was used to living under trees. Not in them. "No thank you! I'm enjoying the view from here. On the ground!"

Hatter pouted at him. "Come on! You can do it! Which one of us is the wild animal here?"

"That remains to be seen," Hare grumbled to himself. Then he called back, "I'm not a wild animal, Hatter! I'm a perfectly domesticated Hare!"

His friend ignored him and settled himself onto a thick branch about 20 feet up the tree. He shouted, "Hare! Get up here! You can see the palace!"

Hare sighed. He mentally calculated the possibility that he would win this argument. Then he gave in, because he couldn't say no when his friend was this excited.

Hare took a deep breath and clambered up the tree.

"Hurry! The light is perfect!"

"Hatter, I'm a Hare. Not a monkey. Or a cat."

Oh no. Please don't let the Cat see us up here.

He knew they'd hear about it for days.

When he finally reached the branch on which Hatter sat, Hare swung his legs over next to his friend. Hatter looked at him and tried to hide a laugh.

"What?" Hare demanded.

"You have leaves in your fur." Hatter plucked a few out, chuckling.

"Well," Hare deadpanned, "someone asked me to climb a tree."

Hatter was still smiling broadly and pulling tree fragments from Hare's thick fur. On impulse, Hare reached out and flipped his friend's hat off his head. It tumbled to the ground, unscathed.

Hatter froze for a moment, shocked, and Hare couldn't help himself. He giggled, growing louder as his friend accepted what just happened. Finally, Hatter laughed as well, and they dissolved into giggles together.

When they settled down, Hare finally looked out around them. Hatter was right. It was beautiful up here. And he could see the top of the palace spires in the distance. When he looked over, Hatter was staring at all of it in wonderment.

Hare's stomach fluttered.

His secret feelings roared to life as the breeze ruffled Hatter's loose hair. He looked so different this way. Younger. Softer. Less like a blazing comet and more like a firefly. Still radiant but able to be held close.

I wonder if he ever feels this way about me?

Suddenly, he needed to know. Hare thought back to the kiss on the sofa. And the desire gave him courage. So he said, "Hatter…a few weeks ago…when it rained…"

Something flashed across his friend's face. Hare wasn't sure what it was, but it might've been fear.

Then Hatter closed the distance between them.

He wrapped one arm tightly around Hare's torso and held the tree branch above them with the other.

This kiss was different. It was wet and deep and tasted like ginger tea and strawberries. Hare hesitantly slid his fingers into Hatter's hair. It was soft and thick and images flashed through his head—burying his face in it. Fisting it in hands. Maybe pulling a little. He whimpered softly.

And then, just as quickly, Hatter pulled back.

Hare dropped his arms, suddenly colder in spite of the sun.

Hatter pulled out his watch, which was stowed in his overalls pocket today. "Oh my goodness. Hare! It's nearly two! We're barely going to have time to set up for tea!"

With that, he fan kicked his long legs over the branch and made his way back down the tree. Hare watched him, feeling as though he was on a roller coaster, whipping around corners faster than he could think.

It was a wild ride that didn't seem to have an end any time soon.