3. The Laundry

"Oh," Fern muttered, his tone full of disappointment, before hiding his hands in the pockets of Arcade's jacket as if trying to involuntarily protect it. "Do you really have to?"

Did he really have to? Fern's dejected posture made Arcade want to reconsider every single decision that had brought him to that moment, but one look at the jacket they had on, at the dirt all around the hems and the hood, was enough to remind him what he needed to focus on: clothes needed washing, and the jacket was extremely overdue in that regard. So, yes. He really had to take the jacket from Fern to wash it, despite their discontent.

Arcade had already delayed it for way too long. He'd spent his days and nights thinking about how nice Fern looked with the jacket on, instead of noticing how dirty it was getting, and after more than a week in the forest, it was only a matter of time until it was impossible to ignore. However, despite knowing that he had to take the jacket back to the dorms for laundry because having clean things was important, Fern's voice still made him think it would be cruel to separate them from it.

They sounded sad.

Arcade hated it when Fern was sad.

His default response was to do everything in his power to make them smile again. He would've let them keep the jacket until the end of the world, he would've invented a way to make dirt disappear without having to take the jacket from them. But... he couldn't do any of that, and Fern's discouraged aura was driving him crazy. He had to start reminding himself, time and time again, that the prince would be way happier with a clean, softer jacket that smelled nicer. That their discouraged expression was just temporary. That it was for an important cause.

«So please, Fern, don't be sad.»

"Hey, why do you look like a puppy just died?" Arcade asked with a joking tone, trying to lighten up the mood, trying to get even the smallest of changes in the prince's posture so his heart didn't feel so heavy and cold. But Fern's only response was to stare at him with confusion in their eyes, frowning slightly like they didn't know what Arcade was talking about.

"A puppy?" they said, and just then it occurred to him that Fern probably didn't know what a puppy was. They hadn't even seen a dog before. He felt like an idiot, his cheeks warming up in embarrassment, and suddenly had to fight the urge to take back everything he'd said that afternoon, turn around, and simply leave Fern to their own business. "If it dies, is it a good or a bad thing?"

"Never mind that," he answered, sounding defeated, deciding that it was better to just go back to their original topic. "Just... the jacket, please?" he said, softly, reminding Fern that he needed to take it off, and that sad expression appeared on their face again. When he didn't move nor say anything, Arcade stretched his hand towards them, slowly, trying to look encouraging but not demanding. "Hey, don't worry. I promise I'll give bring it back," he said, as earnestly as possible.

Fern stared at his stretched hand for half a second before looking up at his eyes again. The hesitation in his movements was evident, but Arcade dedicated them a small smile to try and make them feel better. It seemed to be enough to relax their posture: the underlying tension on his shoulders disappeared, their frown eased until it was nothing but a little pout, and although Arcade couldn't see their hands, hidden in the pockets as they were, he could've sworn Fern loosened his fists too.

They didn't look as sad anymore, but the discontent still didn't leave his features. "Fine," he said, doing his best to sound nonchalant while he took the jacket off and handed it to Arcade.

But his expression ended up looking grumpy instead of annoyed, and it didn't help much that they involuntarily shivered the second the fabric wasn't enveloping them anymore. As if they were cold again, suddenly, unexpectedly. They looked exposed. Almost... vulnerable. And then, in a movement that seemed unconscious too, Fern rubbed their forearm a couple of times before crossing their arms close to their chest, trying to keep warm.

Arcade was struck by that protective feeling again; the same one he got when they were both in the cave, sheltered from the rain; the same one that always screamed at him to keep Fern safe. He didn't like the expression on their face that showed a concealed distraught. He didn't like the goosebumps that slowly but surely started to cover Fern's shoulders due to the cold. He didn't like the heavy, icy hand that seemed to clasp his heart, squeeze it until it hurt, freeze his body from the inside out. He just wanted to see Fern's face glowing again, their wings fluttering again, their arms bundled up in warm fabric instead of pressed against their chest.

Arcade placed the jacket on top of the prince's makeshift table and looked down at his outfit. He had put a sweater on that day, on top of his shirt: light blue like a cloudless sky, not too fancy, not too casual, and even softer than the jacket Fern had before. It was a nice sweater, and Arcade liked it. But without even being aware of it, he decided it wasn't going back to the dorms with him.

"Hey, here," he said, pulling off his sweater and offering it to the prince. His friend looked at it attentively without moving, without saying anything, for so long that everything started to feel heavy around them. Finally, when Arcade began to get anxious, he scratched his neck nervously and cleared his throat, wanting to say something just for the sake of breaking the silence. "You, uhm... You can have this one in the meantime. If you want to."

Fern waited only half a heartbeat more before taking the sweater, their movements slow enough not to look too impatient, but their eagerness was evident nonetheless: Their ears perked up in excitement, their wings fluttered as fast as a hummingbird's, the corners of their mouth relaxed until he was a step away from smiling. And the second they put the sweater on, Arcade felt warmth spread throughout his entire body.

Fern looked comfortable. Fern looked happy. Fern looked good in blue, and Arcade quickly decided they also looked good with his clothes on.

So just like that, Arcade's wardrobe became Fern's too.

The next time he needed to take the sweater back to the dorms for laundry, he made sure to bring one of his other hoodies to replace it immediately, so Fern could always have something to wear. It became a thing between them just as naturally as breathing, and it felt right, and by the time the weather stopped being chilly and cold, their tradition was already so indispensable for them, so ingrained in their daily routine, that they didn't want to end it. Arcade found himself bringing shirts instead of hoodies, lighter jackets instead of sweaters, giving Fern things that were more comfortable to wear now that it was warmer.

He found himself loving every second of it.

Arcade never really questioned why. Since the day of the storm, he just thought it was nice to help out a friend, to make sure they were comfortable, to show them that he was there for them. Especially after said friend had been on their own for a year, all alone in a foreign place, and exiled. Besides, he had always wanted to help them anyway (so they could break his curse and get him home, particularly, but other things were still included), so he didn't think that giving them something to wear was that big of a deal. Arcade just liked the feeling of happiness he got when someone they cared about was happy too.

But the days passed, and the weeks passed, and the feeling grew stronger and bigger and more complicated, taking so much space in his thoughts it became impossible to think that was it. So Arcade had to start wondering what the hell was going on, because no matter how much he loved Fern's smile or their relaxed posture, that didn't explain the rush of adrenaline that crashed against his chest just from seeing them wearing his clothes. Because no matter how much he enjoyed helping his friends, that didn't explain the overwhelming happiness he got by being there on Fern's good days or supporting them during the bad ones.

Until one day, when Arcade was washing the clothes of the week, it happened.

He was sitting in the laundry room, waiting for the dryer cycle to finish, and staring very attentively at the clothes whirling inside the machine. There wasn't anything else he could do, after all, so trying to catch a glimpse of the shirt and jacket that Fern had been wearing for the past week seemed to be as good of a distraction as any. Besides, he had done it before, when he forgot his videogame or his phone didn't have enough battery for him to use it while the cycle ended.

However, something strange made it different that day, because every time Arcade got to see them among the rest of his stuff, he felt something weird twist inside his chest, as if he were holding a grudge against them. And it made him feel like he was going crazy. Like, come on; he was feeling bitter over a jacket and a shirt that he owned, and he was pretty sure that wasn't normal. It didn't make sense. Why would he feel resentment towards clothes? Just because they got to be with Fern more than him, and feel their warmth closer than him, and spend the entire night with them, unlike him... that didn't mean Arcade had to feel so, so... jealous of them.

Was he losing his mind?

The dryer machine made a beeping noise, signaling it was finished, so Arcade shook his head to clear his head before approaching to unload the laundry. He started throwing the clean clothes in his basket to take them back to his dorm, almost automatically, but when his hands stumbled with the jacket that Fern had worn, Arcade stopped. He stared at it for a couple of seconds until a flash of something went through his mind, and then, without really thinking about it, he put it on.

And he was immediately surrounded by a smell.

It was similar to moss and feathers and wet leaves, to hundreds of flowers under the spring rain; similar to how the forest looked at sunset, but more magical and fantastic and extraordinary. It reminded him of Fern. It was addicting in a way Arcade couldn't explain, in a way that made him wonder how he'd spent his entire life without such a comforting smell, in a way that made him crave more of it and be closer to it and never ever smell anything different. (Except, maybe, his mom's food.)

So, moved by that urge, he looked for the shirt that Fern had worn and nestled it close to his chest, happy to confirm that the smell was there too. Even after washing the clothes, even after using soap and detergent on them, the smell was there. As if Fern had left their mark on the fabric somehow. As if their essence couldn't be obliterated because it was meant to be right there, with Arcade.

And it was then, while enveloped in a jacket that felt like a hug from his best friend, while clinging to the fabric of the shirt as if it was the prince themselves he was holding, while daydreaming of having them close enough that everything around him was Fern and only Fern... Arcade realized that those weren't normal things to think about one's friend.

So that was it.

Arcade knew.

And just like that, he was hit by the reality that he was in love with Fern.

He felt his face light up in bright red, warming up his cheeks all the way up, and he tried to hide the blush by burying his face in the shirt that he was still holding. However, his attempt pretty much backfired when the smell of the fabric surrounded all his senses, drowned the rest of the world away, brought Arcade to nuzzle the shirt just in hopes of being closer to Fern... even while in the distance.

But then he realized what he was doing, panicked, threw the shirt away and looked around desperately, hoping no one had seen him hugging his clothes like a maniac.

Oh, he had most definitely lost his mind.

Of course, visiting Fern after his sudden realization was a mess, too, because it was right after laundry, and Arcade hadn't had enough time to process his feelings (much less so, control them). He was having problems looking at the prince in the eye without his heart rate skyrocketing to space. Besides, Fern was looking at him so expectantly, so full of hope, with so much excitement in their eyes that Arcade wished he could give them the entire world instead of just some clean clothes he could change into.

"Here," he said, handing Fern a little bag with a yellow shirt and a soft hoodie. The prince's eyes sparkled happily while he took it, making Arcade all warm and fuzzy inside, and when they smiled at him right after, the entire world brightened up like a shooting star had just crossed the night sky. Then, Fern took off the shirt he'd been wearing for the past week and gave it to Arcade, their wings fluttering the entire time.

Arcade loved it when Fern was so happy. It filled his chest with butterflies and his world with hundreds of galaxies, and it was about everything he ever wanted to see. But if he didn't want to suffer cardiac arrest from how fast his heartbeat was every time Fern was in sight, or in his thoughts, he needed to catch breaks every now and again. Looking at them for the first time after realizing they were the most beautiful thing Arcade had the privilege of being close to... it could be a little overwhelming.

So, trying to give his mind some time to calm down, he deviated his sight somewhere else while the prince changed. Like the flowers decorating the cave. Like his discarded school bag on the floor. Like the reminders that chimed on his phone, telling him that he needed to finish his English reading, and study for his history test, and go over his math assignment for the millionth time before Monday...

"What are you looking at?" Fern asked, appearing next to him out of fucking nowhere and standing on his tiptoes to see over Arcade's shoulder, at the phone screen that seemed so appealing to him. However, their smell got to him before their voice, causing Arcade's body to stiffen, his breath to catch in his throat, his thoughts to disintegrate in the back of his mind.

Arcade had never been so painfully aware of Fern's presence before.

They were standing next to him, talking to him, close enough for their hair to brush Arcade's jaw, close enough for their smell to cause several short circuits inside his brain. But unlike the clothes Arcade had washed earlier that day, which smelled like moss and flowers and entirely like Fern, the smell of the prince themselves was... different. Similar to Arcade's soft bed at the end of a school day, or his warm hoodie when it was freezing outside, or the blankets he had back home, or the dorm where he slept every night.

He had expected them to smell like the forest, but instead, they... they smelled like him. Fern smelled like Arcade, and it didn't make any sense because the prince wasn't even wearing his clothes yet, but they smelled like Arcade anyway. As if their skin and their hair and the mossy substance on their body had adopted Arcade's scent just like Arcade's clothes had acquired Fern's, and it, it... it was both the best and worst thing that could've happened to Arcade right then.

"It's just... just homework," Arcade stammered when the wires inside his mind finally clicked together. He was feeling his face starting to blush, again, but luckily for him, Fern only made a noncommittal humming sound before turning back to the clean jacket of the week. Arcade let himself take a deep breath then, trying to calm down his heartbeat, frantically pushing his thoughts back in order.

And he kind of managed to get a grip of himself... at least, until Fern put his jacket on and turned to him with a comfortable smile on their lips, looking like someone Arcade would want to hug for the rest of his life, like someone that he wanted to see every morning and every night and all the time in between. Because with Arcade's clothes on, Fern looked like they should be home with him. They looked like they belonged home. They looked like they were home.

But they only looked like it, and Arcade knew it.

Yeah, he was so in love with Fern that the prince gave meaning to love itself, but he knew that they just... didn't feel the same. It didn't matter how hard he wanted to believe that Fern was meant to be with him, or how much he loved the idea of Fern sharing his stuff and wearing his clothes, or how amazing it would be if, one day, Fern could call Arcade theirs and Arcade could call them his... None of that was going to actually happen.

How could it?

Even if Arcade wished it with his entire heart, his entire soul; even if Arcade wanted it very very badly, he was still a human. And Fern was still a fairy magic prince from a different world who despised being trapped with humans; someone who just wanted to break his curse, get his wings back, and go back to his actual, real home.

A place that didn't include Arcade in it.

"Hey... why do you look like a puppy just died?" Fern said when he noticed that Arcade's entire posture had slumped like a withered flower. Their tone made it clear that they wanted to lighten up the mood, just like Arcade had tried an eternity ago, but they only caused Arcade's heart to stop in his tracks, a lump of ice to block his throat, a very tight knot to appear in his chest and make him want to scream.

He didn't answer, so Fern tilted their head, trying to read their friend's reaction.

"Did I use that sentence correctly?"

Man, Fern was going to be the death of him.