Page 48

But it was what most people got, wasn’t it? The privilege of dust and cracks and age.

Itori took a seat on the flooded road, and drew Will down into his lap.

Without the cranes and construction hanging over them, it felt more secluded. Will couldn’t name the tree, but its fluttering leaves bounced moonlight and shadows all around, painting them in speckled light.

“Willowtree,” Itori said as his hands came to cup Will’s face. His thumbs smoothed over Will's cheek in practiced motions.

“Itori,” Will said in response.

“I have never been with someone like this,” Itori confessed. “Even my own kin… I have never felt drawn like this. It should not be possible, and yet–”

“What?”

“I felt you, before you came that night,” Itori said, low, like a secret. “You were at the water’s edge during the day.”

Will stared at him, surprised. “Yeah. I–there was a snapping turtle in the parking lot. I was taking it back to the water.” He paused then, something occurring to him. “It’s weird. I came to the water to put the turtle in, and it was like… there was this feeling. Like I should get in the water. Was that you?”

Itori’s attention was heavy. “You felt me?”

“I felt something,” Will said. “Like a really strong urge to wade in.”

“It is called the pull,” Itori said slowly. “The way that mates find each other.”

“What?”

“It should not be possible with a human, I did not–” Itori paused. “I do not understand how this is possible.”

“What do you mean? Like–like soul mates?” Will felt ridiculous even saying it.

“No. The pull is energy. Balance. It is a suggestion, not a destiny. Nature would never be so certain.”

Right. Sure. It still sounded an awful lot like soul mates.

“Okay,” Will said, taking a deep breath. “So, that was real. The pull. Is that why you let me see you? You said your people don’t trust humans.”

“That, and your sweet singing, like I said,” Itori said, rubbing his cheek. “Your arrival felt like the land had sent you to help.”

“But why now?” Will asked. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and you–you’ve been in this spring a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes. But never trapped here,” Itori said. “And the pull is not about proximity, it is about introducing change or needed balance. It connected us now because I needed you.”

And Will needed Itori.

Will ducked his head, embarrassed of the thought. “Oh.”

“I am glad you answered the pull,” Itori said. “Grateful you returned the next night.”

“I would’ve regretted it if I didn’t come back,” Will said, meeting his gaze. “I–I know what it’s like to be different. To be hurt because people don’t understand you.”

The thumbs on his cheeks slowed. “You said your town thinks you a monster. I still do not understand why.”

Will looked away and the hands dropped from his face. He hadn’t wanted to talk about this, but it seemed to be haunting him. “I’m not allowed to be with someone like me. A man. Um. Though I guess I don’t even know if your people have sex categories, actually.”

“Sex categories?”

“Like…” Will gestured at his lower body. “Different body parts. For reproduction.”

“Oh, reproduction. There are ♩♩♩, and ♬♩♬, and ♬♬♬.”