Young Writers Society

James had not expected things to take this sort of turn. He thought in saying that he didn't take compliments well, that maybe she would choose not to say them. But instead, she was doing the opposite, and now he felt red as a tomato.

She... had been infatuated with him at first? Because of his appearance?

He stared up at her, wide-eyed and his face fully flushed. He knew he had to think of something as a response, but his brain was lagging.

"No that--" he started to laugh nervously, averting his gaze again. "I don't care about cliches."

Evaline could now understand James when he said that he was bad at taking compliments. He had stared up at her with wide eyes and a face redder than before. She noted again that this was strangely a cute look, but she didn't want to tease him by saying that.

She smiled, her eyes focusing back on his arm that was stitched. There was one last bandage to clean on his forearm. She lightly traced it with her fingers, confirming that it was on the verge of coming loose.

"I don't either," she admitted. "I only said I didn't like clichés because I didn't know what else to say when you..."

She trailed off looked up to meet his gaze again. "For someone who doesn't like receiving compliments, you're pretty good at giving them," she thought out loud.

James's face was still burning, and he couldn't quite meet Evaline's eyes.

"Well - I -" he stuttered, laughing again, looking to the side. "It's not that I don't like receiving compliments. I just - I guess I just never know how to react and - I - well, I don't know. I don't even know how to receive them?"

He laughed again, but it was starting to hurt, and his eyebrows tensed together.

"I'm sure you know the feeling... when someone says something, and you're not even sure that you believe it yourself? Like, I already had no idea how to reply, but I have no idea how to even begin to - I don't know - agree?"

Evaline tried to understand, but it was hard because they both didn't easily accept compliments for different reasons.

She furrowed her brows in thought, pausing the cleaning to think this through.

"No, I don't think I know that feeling," she admitted. "I have had times when I don't know how to reply or agree to something, but I wouldn't say that would bar me from accepting a compliment."

She gaze up at James, concern showing in her eyes.

"Do you have a hard time believing what I said earlier?" she asked, trying to sound gentle rather than come from a place of pity.

James took in a sharp breath and opened his mouth, but couldn't find words just yet. He pressed his lips together and the corners of them tugged back in uncertainty. His shoulders pinched upwards in a small shrug and he let out another weak, nervous laugh.

"...Yeah?" he said in a whisper.

It was starting to dawn on Evaline that James was even more sensitive than she thought. She wanted to be better for him, though. She just wished she knew what to say to make him believe that he was charming, and handsome, and attractive. But not only that: he was kind, gentle, patient, and incredibly selfless. It didn't matter whether he was attractive or not; he was still someone she wanted to be around.

But if she said that out loud, would he even believe it? Would he only become more embarrassed and fall deeper into the vicious cycle of self-pity and lack of confidence?

Suddenly an idea crossed her mind, but she hesitated, not sure if this was something she should do. She went back and forth on it until she decided to just do it.

They were partners now. More than friends. A courtship. There wasn't any point in being embarrassed or keeping secrets.

"One moment," she said, pulling away from James and getting up to walk over to the corner of the room with all their items. She kneeled down to pick up her journal, taking a minute to sift through the pages before slipping the note into a page. She then walked back to her spot in front of him, setting the journal down in front of them.

"If you have a hard time believing my words, then maybe I can show you instead," she said softly, sliding the journal out towards him. "You can look through the pages before the bookmark."

James hesitantly took the journal, looking at it, then to Evaline. He didn't move to open it. He didn't know how many drawings of him were in it, but the fact that she handed it to him, saying she would show him instead made him nervous.

"But - but this is your journal," he said quietly. "Are you sure you want to show me this?"

Evaline nodded confidently. "Yes, I'm sure," she said. "Just the pages before the bookmark."

She peered down at the journal again, noting how many pages there were before the bookmark. It was okay, though. She wasn't hiding anything.

"You can look at it now or later. I don't mind." She looked up to meet his eyes again, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but it still came out a little nervous.

"I just want you to believe me when I say you are handsome."

James flashed Evaline a tiny, timid smile and nodded his head, looking down at the journal. It wasn't like they were in a hurry to get anything done. He was sick, and unless someone else interrupted them, he assumed he'd have time to flip through the pages. He just felt nervous, like there was a knot in his stomach that wouldn't untie.

It almost felt silly that she was trying to convince him that he was handsome. Part of him wished he hadn't said anything, but, if he hadn't, it wouldn't have been very truthful.

He stared down at the book in his hand. She said everything before the bookmark. That was a lot of pages. He figured he'd start from the beginning, then. He flipped to the first page.

There were a lot of drawings of him.

As he flipped through the pages, he saw himself, from Evaline's perspective, in various poses. Sitting, standing, stretching, picking things up, lying down. There were drawings of him petting Elliot, and ones of him holding Elliot's face close, when he'd whisper to him. He noted how he was always drawn in far more detail than Elliot ever was.

There was a drawing of him looking out at a river, with his back turned away. He wondered if she'd committed that image to memory, or if she'd actually pulled out her sketchbook when he wasn't looking.

There was a drawing of him lying down casually by the fire. He tried to place himself in Evaline's shoes, like he was seeing through her eyes. When was this? He wasn't looking at her. He was looking into the fire, and his expression was neutral, if a little tired.

There were drawings that looked like they were from them walking, like they were from Evaline's perspective, of her looking at him. One of him walking ahead of her, and one of him walking beside her, looking at her attentively.

The more drawings he looked at, the more things were starting to feel surreal. He had only ever seen himself drawn in the context of wanted posters, and he he was, plastered across the pages in far more variety than the mugshots posters typically depicted. It was even more surreal for the fact that they were drawings, and it was Evaline's interpretation of him. This was how she saw him - and though he knew from experience that she was quick at memorizing a face and capturing its likeness, he couldn't help but wonder... no. She wouldn't alter the truth of what she saw.

It was just hard to take in.

Among the drawings, there were a lot of little notes. Some were comments on changes in his appearance - almost like she was updating herself so as not to forget. Mentions of his hair or beard getting longer, or the way his hair parted, or the placement of scars and scrapes. Some comments about specific moments, like how he "seemed in a good mood that day" or "smelled minty."

There was another drawing. This was the first one so far of him smiling, and it looked like he was laughing. It was weird, seeing his own smiling face looking back at him. He saw a note below it, where she'd written that it was the first time she'd seen him laugh and smile. That was when he'd thrown berries at her. Before she ever had a journal to draw in.

He then noticed another little note by the picture of the drawing of him smiling. All it said was "dimples!" For some reason, that made him smile, but more in embarassment than anything.

She'd remembered all of this? Well enough to draw it like this?

He kept looking through the pages, seeing several drawings of him sitting with variations of dramatic lighting from a nearby fire. He paused on a drawing of someone who wasn't him. It looked like a goblin, and under it, Evaline had written: "Marsha." The goblin who'd given her the medicine that had healed his leg.

He studied the drawing of her face with intense interest. She had thick, curly hair, and drooping long ears. Canines, sharper than a human's, but not protruding that much. The drawing looked rougher than any of the other ones of him - she'd likely only gotten an approximate look at Marsha in the dark.

On another page, there was a drawing of them dancing, with a waterfall in the background. Evaline was only a rough outline, but he was drawn in full detail. The scene around them looked roughly sketched out, but he recognized it immediately. That was the first time they danced together, under the stars, just the two of them. It had all started as a silly truth or dare game...

He lingered on the page, looking at some scribbled notes beneath it. Some of them were crossed out, and it looked like some were added at a later time, like she'd returned to the page several times. He couldn't tell when she'd crossed things out or added things, though.

• Hard to believe this wasn't that long ago.
  
  
• The night started like this, and ended like that.
  
  
• I had forgotten how much I liked leading.
  
  
• I wish he'd ask me to dance more.
  
  
• This was how it all started.
  
  
• I didn't really think much of it at the time.
  
  
• I wonder if he thinks of this as often as I think of this.
  
  
• He probably hated that I asked him for this dance.
  
  
• I wish I had committed this more to memory at the time.

He paused, reading through the notes, aware that Evaline was likely observing him for his reaction. He didn't want to just pass this page by without saying anything. Not after the conversation they had just a minute ago. They weren't dancing around it anymore. They were partners. They could talk about it.

He looked up at her, lowering the book into his lap. Now, he was sitting up straighter, so he could be more at Evaline's eye level.

"I didn't mind the dance," he said softly. "And... I have thought about it often. Probably too many times. Though, I think our dance at the mage's camp left a more... dramatic impression."

He grinned a little and looked back down at the page. "They were both good memories. And... well, when I'm feeling better, I would love to dance again."

At first, Evaline seemed nervous that he was addressing this topic, and her eyes naturally looked down into the journal to see what he was referencing. But with each passing word, she seemed to calm down and smile.

"I'm glad," she said softly, looking up to meet his gaze again. "I would like that. And... some of the notes. Those were added after... well, random times, but I guess I was a little upset after I realized you didn't like being held or touched. I'm sure there might have been more of those notes I added in for other drawings. I don't mean them now."

James held her gaze for a moment, letting her words sink in.

"I'm sorry I was too afraid to tell you sooner," he said softly. His eyes dropped to the journal. "I... I think a part of me was still expecting you to magically be sent home at any moment, and I thought it would be better to just endure the discomfort like I always had... but I don't want to anymore. I want you to know."

Normally Evaline would pause to recollect her thoughts after something heavy like that, but she didn't seem to hesitate to say what she said next.

"You know I forgive you, right? I have, a long time ago, with that day. It's okay. Really." When he looked up again, she offered a reassuring smile. "And... thank you. But I knew that before you told me just now." She sighed. "I hadn't realized how many old notes there were here. If there are any more negative ones, I can almost guarantee I don't feel that way anymore."

James looked at her, still trying to let her words stick. It was like it still took effort - not just to dare to believe anything positive about himself, but to believe that anyone else would either. But he knew he could trust - and he wanted to trust - that Evaline wasn't just puffing him up with flattery. She really meant it.

He took in a deep breath, as if the long exhale would help it all sink in.

"I... I have been trying," he said softly. "To be more intentional. Since I know touch matters to you."

His thumb nervously played with the corner of the page, and his eyes fixated on it.

"I'm just trying to... go at my own pace," he said quietly. "There's a lot that goes on in the back of my head that can be... difficult to sift through, sometimes."

Evaline paused for almost too long.

She finally set a finger down on the journal, but after another hesitation, she lifted her finger to his chin instead, tilting it up so that he could meet her eyes. The motion made his shoulders shrink inward.

"Hey," she said gently. "Look at me." When he did, he saw that she was smiling warmly up at him, eyes soft with rosy cheeks. "I would like to follow your pace, too."

Even though she wasn't holding his head up with much force, James tensed. Not out of fear, but an anxiety he wasn't quite sure how to name. But he clung to her words, and it took great effort for him not to pull his face away and look back down.

Evaline's expression was kind. Not hostile.

"Thank you," he said softly, lifting one hand away from the book to gently pull hers away from his chin. He grinned a little, wondering if his dimples showed or not. Now that she'd pointed it out, he couldn't help but think about it.

He looked down at her hand in his and grinned back up at her. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand gently, before letting go and pulling away.

"Of course," Evaline said back, smiling and looking down at the hand he kissed, rubbing the spot over with her other thumb. "We're partners now."

James smiled. "Yeah." He looked back down at the journal, but stole one last glance up at Evaline before he did, just to see her smile before it faded.

The next page had a picture of him holding a stick, and taking a swordfighting stance with it. His expression looked a little mischievous, and he could remember that moment, just before their whole conversation about... well, his personal boundaries with touch. It was so strange, almost re-living the last three months through her drawings.

"Now I have an actual sword," he commented, pointing at the picture. "Not that it's mine, but... I'll have to practice again. I'm rusty."

Evaline laughed through her nose. "I hope you don't practice on me again."

James scoffed. "Of course not. I will save that practice for rocks and trees, like the child I am."

As he said that, he noticed the note she'd written by the drawing, mentioning how he'd told her he would get her desert flowers. Which, he had. For her belated birthday.

"Although, I was on to you that day," she added quickly, smirking. "I was able to eventually disarm you since you only knew a handful of stick moves, apparently."

"Maybe I was holding back," James said with a small smirk, looking up at her with his eyes glinting.

Evaline pursed her lips. "I think I'll have to eventually learn to be a stick fighter, then."

"That's the onramp to swordfighting, as they say," James said, flipping to the next page. "Whoever 'they' are, don't ask."

Evaline grinned. "Maybe you'll remember when you're not sick."

James huffed a laugh and looked down at the journal. The next drawing was of a moment that happened minutes after the first, but far less playful. It was of him hugging himself, and looking down... in shame.

He hadn't realized he'd looked that sad.

"Ah..." he said, seeing the notes around it. They were all expressions of consolation, but some of it was smudged, like it was old. James found himself laughing weakly on impulse.

"It's... weird seeing all of these moments from a different perspective," he commented quietly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, peering over the image. "I only wanted you to see the drawings that made you see what I see. I should've had you skip this one..."

"It's fine," he said. "I mean, this is me too. Just, not happy." He looked up at her with a small, sad sort of smile.

"I know," she said softly. "It was hard to forget."

He looked down at the drawing, reading the notes around it in more detail.

• He's a liar.
  
  
• "Deceptive" - checks out.
  
  
• I don't know whether it was me or him.
  
  
• Did I misread him?
  
  
• I don't know what to feel anymore.
  
  
• I'm glad he told me this.
  
  
• I have never seen him this sad.
  
  
• I wish he would see what I see.
  
  
• I wish he knew how sorry I was that day, and for the kiss.

He glanced back up at her.

"The... the ones crossed out," he said. "Do you still feel that way?" He turned the journal towards her so she could see better.

Evaline peered over the picture again, eyes scanning the crossed out bullets before going wide in panic. "No," she said quickly. "No, no. No. I remember when I wrote that, and --"

She groaned, visibly frustrated as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I wrote that the same night that happened," she explained, sounding like she was carefully choosing her words. She dropped her eyes and looked up at him, almost like she was pleading for him to forgive her.

"I crossed all of it out after mage camp. I didn't mean any of it. I was just upset at the time and didn't know what to do."

James looked back down at the journal.

"It's okay," he said. "I understand."

Another pause, and he looked back up at her. "I don't hold it against you. I forgive you too. You didn't know."

"Still... I shouldn't have doubted you." She paused, looking away and briefly biting her lip. "Especially since you were so vulnerable and wanted me to know the truth."

James's expression softened, and he reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay. I forgive you," he said with a small smile. "I'm glad we're both on the same page now."

Evaline looked over to his hand with the beginnings of a smile, but she still looked a bit frazzled. "You won't let those words mean anything to you, then?" she asked.

James let out another weak laugh. He needed to stop laughing, because it kept making his side act up, but it kept happening naturally as a knee-jerk stress reliever.

"No," he said.

Evaline sighed a breath of relief, finally meeting his eyes again. "Good," she said with a small smile.

James nodded and looked back down at the journal, drawing it closer to him as he started looking through more pictures. The next few were of him again, but in poses he knew he'd never done, and making expressions he knew he'd never made. One of them looked particularly out of character - and it was weird seeing it depicted with his own face. It was one of him winking and sticking his tongue out. He laughed through his nose, and turned it to Evaline.

It was her turn to nervously laugh now, but clearly she was more embarrassed than anything.

"I was really bored that week," she said weakly.

James chuckled. "I can tell. You drew me doing the splits."

"That's what happens when you tell me you can do it and then don't do it. I have to use my imagination."

James smiled and shook his head. He looked down at the drawing of him doing the splits, amused, then back at the winking expression.

"I don't know if I've ever made that face before in my life," he said. Then he looked up, narrowed his eyes in thought, and hummed, but then thought better of it. "Probably better not to start now..." he said with a little smirk.

Evaline tightly pressed her lips together, clearly suppressing a silly grin. "Right," she said. "That would be silly."

James hummed again, tempted. "Very silly," he mused.

"Almost impossible," she mused with him.

"Truly, a once in a lifetime expression," he said, bringing his hand to his chin to stroke his beard.

She nodded dramatically. "It's a good thing I drew it, then. Since I probably already missed it in my lifetime."

James briefly made eye contact with her, and he couldn't help it. Fine. It didn't feel like a natural expression to make at all, but he decided to commit and go for it. He winked and stuck out his tongue, still with a lingering smile.

Evaline let out the suppressed laugh and she set her hand over her mouth as she watched him copy the expression. "Wait!" she wheezed, taking the journal out of his hands and then placing it beside his head for comparison. He held the expression. Still giggling, her eyes flicked between the two images.

"Just for comparison. To make sure I got it right, since, you know." She beamed at him, setting the journal back down. "Once in a lifetime."

He finally let his face fall back to normal, breaking into a light laugh. "At least I know how ridiculous I look, since you already drew it," he said, still with a little laughter in his voice.

"Maybe I'll ask for a mirror." She smirked. "So you can practice in front of it."

"Oh gods, no," he said, still wearing a smile as he flipped to the next page. There were other people drawn on it, and they weren't ones he recognized - but there were names under them that he remembered. Brooks, Jeremy, Thessa, and Olivia. She left out Butch and Reed, though, which he was glad for.

"These were the people you met at Woodhearst?" he asked, leaning the journal towards her so she could see.

Evaline nodded. "That's right. I got the journal just after that. I... actually flipped to a random page and drew them first. Just so I didn't forget."

"It's cool... to see them," he said, studying the drawings. "Brooks was the sheriff, right? The gossip?"

"Yeah," she said, almost sounding sorry. "I don't even think he said anything that was true."

"I don't remember all the things you said that he said," James replied, staring down at the drawing of Sheriff Brooks. He had a smug sort of grin. "But I can probably guess..."

"Oh yeah?" Evaline said, eyeing the journal as well. "Maybe I can let you know if he told me the same thing."

"That seems like a roundabout way of just... telling it to me outright," James said, looking back up at her.

She still stared at the journal. "You really want to know everything he said?"

"Yes and no. I just want to correct any misinformation," he said. "If... you happened to believe any of it."

Evaline sighed. "Okay," she said, and then gently took the journal from his hands. "I've written it down somewhere..." She started to flip past the bookmark, towards the end of the journal.

James looked away, since she'd only said he could look at things before the bookmark. He didn't want to catch anything he wasn't meant to see. It took her a moment before she stopped on a page and bent half of the journal back on the spine, so that the other page was tucked beneath it. Then she flipped the one page back towards him. It was a full list.

Information

• Wanted alive.
  
  
• Treason of the highest order in Moonlight Kingdom.
  
  
• Armed, dangerous, 25,000 gold.
  
  
• 22 years old 21 years old, birthday late November (28th?) / 28th day of fall lunar cycle

James paused, looking up at her. She'd... really organized all of this, with headers, and bullet points, in different sections.

"Well, these ones are true," he said, angling the page towards her so she could see what he was talking about too. "'Dangerous' is debatable. Depends on if they're a danger to me."

Background

• Tiberius Hemming
  
  
• Ex-soldier, worked as palace guard. ✓
  
  
• Skilled fighter. ✓
  
  
• Deceiver - climbed ranks fast.
  
  
• Orphan - obviously false.
  
  
• Got into military school by an anonymous wealthy benefactor.
  
  
• Child prodigy. Excelled to prove people wrong.
  
  
• Talent = power and influence, wanted more?

James squinted at the list, letting out a deep sigh.

"I... I guess," he said. "I didn't climb the ranks by any means of deception. I just... earned it." He paused, shrugging uncomfortably. "The 'child prodigy' part is true, I guess. Though it's weird to say it myself. I think, for me, I never saw myself as exceptional. I was just giving everything my all."

"So, that part is all false then?" Evaline asked. "You didn't deceive anyone?"

James pursed his lips, looking down at the page with narrowed eyes.

"I did," he said carefully. "But not for those reasons. I'd changed my name, and put on a different identity, in way. I was lying to everyone about a few things. Like, that my name was Tiberius, and that I was an orphan. But that was only so I could leave everything else behind. Not to grow in power."

"And so..." she began, but seemed to pause to carefully select her words. "And so, that's it, then. You chose to leave behind James Hawke to be Tiberius Hemming so you can start a new life. That's the only deception involved, but no one knows about it."

James was quiet as he looked down at the page. His shoulders started to slump forward, and his eyebrows were knit together.

"Not exactly," he said quietly.

Finding courage to explain it all - or any of it - was an internal battle he barely had energy to fight.

"Three people knew," he said, his voice getting quieter. "The ones that helped me start my new life in the first place."

There was a pause, but when he didn't elaborate, Evaline broke the silence.

"You don't have to say his name," she said quietly. "Or think about it if it's too hard."

James closed his eyes and took in a slow, deep breath.

"It was him and his parents," he said emptily, immediately looking to the next part of the list. Evaline didn't say anything back.

Treason

• Tried to kill king - most popular rumor.
  
  
• Wanted to be king.
  
  
• Planned a coup that failed.
  
  
• Formed an alliance with goblins.
  
  
• War crimes.
  
  
• Various robberies in palace.

He straightened up a little as he read, and sighed again, running his hand through his hair. He let his hand plop back down into his lap.

"Never planned a coup - though I did think about it," he said. "Never even considered the goblins as potential allies, but-" he laughed through his nose. "Maybe not the worst idea. Just - anyways. No war crimes. No rob-- well? Okay. I can't quite say that. I stole information. Physical evidence of it. Records. But it wasn't a string of robberies. Just the one."

That was all he'd gotten away with. If you could call being wanted getting away with it.

"Right," Evaline said slowly, in thought. "Because the real 'crime' that you committed was stopping the king's plan."

"In broadstrokes, yes. Theft was just a part of it," he said, still looking at the list.

"What was the other part?"

James blinked, staring down into his lap. He could feel a memory trying to wriggle to the front of his brain. Something suppressed, that he didn't really want to remember.

"... almost getting caught, I suppose," he said, his voice distant.

He knew Evaline wasn't asking to use this information against him. She just wanted to understand.

"Getting caught... stealing?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he said stiffly, still fighting back the feeling of the memory he didn't want to recall.

"Records," she reiterated slowly, but it was almost a question.

"Related to the child mage soldiers," he said weakly. "That information."

"So all of this," she said slowly. "All of this -- your wanted status, your high bounty, everything you've been through -- was all because you stole information?"

"Not just information," James said, his voice sounding more and more empty. "Other things that would've made the creation of said soldiers possible."

He pressed his lips together in a thin line and closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head. He slouched further, over the journal in his lap.

"But it was also... personal."

Evaline reached out and placed her hand over his. "I'm just trying to understand," she said gently. "You don't have to tell me now, or ever, if it's something I don't need to know. I know it's hard."

James looked down at her hand, and slowly turned his hand around, palm up, wrapping his fingers around hers.

"Let me... just keep reading and see what else you put down," he said quietly. She squeezed his hand in response.

King

• King liked him.
  
  
• Rose up the ranks to get close to the king.
  
  
• Ally turned him in?
  
  
• Seemed that the king was looking for a friend.
  
  
• What type of relationship?

Of course the next section was literally titled: King. James was beginning to feel tired. Thinking about all of it shouldn't have been so draining, but it was like it was sucking the energy out of him.

"The king did like me," he said solemnly. "I didn't try to get his attention. He just... took me under his wing."

He paused.

"Like a mentor, I guess." Or a son.

Evaline hummed this thought over. "What was that like? To be close to the king as a palace guard?"

"At first, I thought it was everything I could've ever wanted," he said.

His eyes lingered on the bullet point in the middle. The one that didn't seem to have to do with the king at all. An ally turned him in. Evaline probably hadn't looked back at this list since they'd talked the night before. When he mentioned Carter without mentioning Carter. When he'd implied that Carter had turned on him without quite saying he had. He wondered if she'd figured it out yet. If she'd done the math.

"But people aren't always who you make them out to be," he said, brushing his thumb along the edge of the page. "Especially the ones you look up to."

"Because of his plans," she said.

"And other things," James said softly, guilt weighing heavily on him. "There was... more I'd overlooked. Before that moment."

There were a lot of reasons. A lot of them, at the end of the day, were rooted in fear.

"He wasn't a good man," James said. "Neither was I."

He looked at the next part of the list. It was about Eliza, but it was all crossed out.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy," Evaline said. "Being a palace guard and protecting someone who wasn't good. You recognize that now, and I only see a virtuous person with strong morals and integrity."

James looked up at her with a small, sad smile.

"It's just a shame I didn't recognize it sooner," he said, looking back down at the list, trying to decipher what was written under the lines struck through the words.

"It's not your fault," she said gently. "None of it was."

James wanted to disagree. He always did. But he had a feeling he knew what her response would be, and in his heart, he knew she was right. It just didn't feel right. Not to him. He was complicit, and he could never fully excuse himself of that responsibility.

"I know," he said softly, lifting the journal a little closer to read better.

Princess Eliza

• Beautiful, worth pursuing.
  
  
• In a relationship.
  
  
• Marriage for power.

He almost regretted his eagerness to move on after he finally figured out what it said. He could remember, way back to the day right after Evaline returned from Woodhearst, she'd asked him about Eliza. The princess. The whiplash of different emotions made him groan, and he set the journal back in his lap.

"I forgot you asked me about her," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Who...?" she said quietly as her eyes drifted down to the section under king. She grimaced. "Oh... yeah."

She paused, the edge of a nervous laugh seeping into her next words.

"That's why I, uh, crossed that off."

"I did know her," James said, sounding tired. "But not like that."

"I mean, I figured," Evaline said quickly. James was beginning to suspect she was about to make this more awkward than it needed to be. "You were a palace guard. Of course you did. Know her, I mean. And the king. Because she was his daughter. So I didn't doubt that."

James could sense some of her anxiety, and it was making him anxious. He wasn't about to tell her that Eliza had expressed interest in him, because he'd never returned it. It wasn't important, and by the gods James didn't want to get into it. It would be equally painfully awkward for both of them.

James just sighed and looked at the last few notes on the list.

"Well, we're almost through all of it," he said quietly.

Notes

• Butch caught him one month prior.
  
  
• Explains all of the scars, wounds, injuries.
  
  
• Reed's dog smelled me. Did he know?

"...Reed's dog smelled you. I don't remember you mentioning that," he said, looking up at her.

"We discussed a lot of things that day," Evaline said softly, eyes focused on the last section. "I thought I mentioned his dog, but..." Her sentence trailed off.

"Sorry," James said. "You might've. It just means that he probably had the dog remember your scent. They're hunting dogs, and that's how Butch tracked me down, using their noses. He may have already been suspicious of you, but not enough to warrant anything more serious."

Evaline sighed, then took the journal from his lap so she could flip back towards the drawings.

"Do you think they smelled your scent on me?" she asked.

James pursed his lips. "Maybe. It's hard to say. If the dog had, it might've started growling, or barking."

Evaline continued to sift through the pages looking especially focused, either because she was trying to find the right page or she was trying to remember if the dog had growled or barked. Maybe both. Either way, she didn't mention it again.

"Here," she said, handing him the journal again at the page he left off. It was back on the page with Thessa and Olivia. The two women who'd pretended to be Evaline's friends to pull Evaline away from Reed. James flipped to the next page, and found that the content shifted back to him again.

There were a lot of drawings of him sleeping. It appeared that Evaline probably got bored on her watch and drew him to pass the time. He didn't realize he was such an active sleeper. Or at least, he slept in a lot of different positions, apparently, tossing and turning. That would explain why he never felt rested. There were a few comments written about him looking peaceful while he slept, which he found ironic. His sleep rarely felt peaceful.

He paused when his eyes caught on a comment in the corner. She'd written: "Awww, he looks like an adorable baby."

He glanced up at her with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Like a baby?" he asked with laughter leaking into his voice.

It took some moments for Evaline to understand, even when she peered down at the drawing. Maybe she had forgotten that she wrote it.

But then she made a sour face.

"I got tired of writing 'peaceful,'" she mumbled.

James grinned, laughing lightly through his nose. "Fair enough." He flipped to the next page.

There he found various drawings of his face again (at this point, he wasn't surprised anymore), but these expressions were a little more bashful and timid. In some of them he was suppressing smiles and looking away, like he was embarrassed. In others he was clearly blushing. He almost wanted to say she was drawing them from imagination, but all of the drawings up to this point had been somewhat chronological, so it would've made sense if these were drawn sometime around their brief stay at the mage's camp. When he started reading the notes around them, it confirmed it for him.

• I think it's cute when he blushes.
  
  
• There's something about this soft side that I find endearing.
  
  
• If I called him handsome, would he be even more embarrassed?
  
  
• The way his eyes soften makes me forget all my worries.
  
  
• There's nothing more gentle than his smile when he looks at me.
  

He felt his face burning again, but it... was kind of nice to read Evaline writing about him in a similar way that he wrote about her. He knew it was harder for her to say it out loud, and put it into words.

Still, he found himself flustered.

"These were when we were at the camp?" he asked shyly, looking up at her. He knew the answer, he just didn't know what else to say.

"Yes," she said, and she was looking up at him in a way that mirrored the sentiments of the notes. Smiling, maybe a little flustered herself, but seemingly admiring that he was reading this and getting flustered himself. "I drew as much as I could relating to that day so I could remember it."

James's eyes drifted to the drawing on the next page, which looked like it was of the two of them. It was the very end of their dance. He was holding her in a dip, and she was drawn mostly as an outline of herself, but he - as he realized, was becoming a pattern - was drawn in full detail. It looked like she might've struggled to capture the moment though, since she'd drawn it from an outsider's perspective, and not her own.

"I only wish I could've drawn your face as well," he said softly, looking back up at her with a shy smile. "But I don't have that skill."

Evaline returned the shy smile. "I know you have some skill," she said quietly, referencing the drawing in his journal.

"Not like you, though," he countered. "I don't know if I could capture your likeness very well just from memory. And even that - the one picture I drew of you, I couldn't even draw the other eye."

He laughed a little, looking back down. "So I decided to draw your favorite flower there instead."

She mimicked the laugh, but for a little louder and longer than necessary. He could feel her getting nervous, and he looked back up at her.

"I see," was all she said.

James observed her for a moment, trying to figure out what he'd said that made her nervous, but it could've been unrelated.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said quickly, then paused in thought. "I just... well, it's just funny that -- sometimes, I think... well, never mind."

"You're sure?" he asked, glancing back down at the journal for a second.

Evaline pressed her lips together but then seemed to blurt the next words out of her mouth. "You couldn't draw the other eye, so that's why you drew the flowers."

"Yyyyes," he said, tilting his head a little to the side. "Why?"

"This is why I'm not a fan of poetry," she mumbled, ignoring his question and leaning back with a sigh. "I hardly ever get what the author is trying to say."

James thought back to the poem beside the drawing, looking up for a second as he recalled it.

"You know, you have the author right here," he said. "You could just ask."

She hesitated, meeting his eyes with uncertainty. "Okay," she said softly. "What... did it mean?"

James started looking across the tent, searching for the saddlebag, looking for where his journal might be. When he spotted it, he leaned forward, like he was getting ready to get up, but the moment he shifted, his head started spinning again.

"Ha..." he said, shooting his arm out to his knee to steady himself. He waited a second for some of the spinning to subside before trying again.

"Do you need help?" Evaline asked.

"Maybe it's the blood loss," he mumbled, getting to his feet with a grunt. "I'm just going to grab my journal too."

As he headed over to their bag, he passed the basket Kurt had left near the front of the tent, that he'd already forgot about. It was covered, but he could see... a stuffed toy bear? Sticking out?

He paused, glancing back at Evaline. He went to their saddlebag first, pulling out his journal quickly, and then grabbed the basket, bringing it over. He set it beside them on the bed and then glanced between his journal, and then the basket.

He was curious.

He peeled the little cloth cover over the basket and saw a note tied around the bear's neck with a string. In handwriting clearly written by a child, it said: "Sory Yoen if I hurt yoo I hop Bary helps. - Ferdinad"

James was a little dizzy from the brief walk, but his face broke into a smile. He took out the bear and held it in his hands before offering it to Evaline to see while he looked to see what else was in the basket.

There were some dry food items - some fruit, nuts, etc. Tea bags. A mug, and a bowl. A little jar of honey, and a what looked like a small bar of chocolate. Tissues folded up nicely, and a small pack of herbs in little cloth bags. In the corner, there was a candle, and a pink desert flower set atop it. There looked like there were random sticks next to it, but he didn't quesiton it. What caught James's attention the most was the book.

He pulled it out immediately, feeling a small rush of excitement.

It was a children's book, but he was too excited to be holding a book to care.

"Okay... this is adorable," James said with a small smile.

"It is pretty cute," Evaline said with a smile of her own, still looking down at the teddy bear. "And thoughtful."

"I wonder how much of this was Kurt's idea and how much of it was the kids'," James mused, looking back at the bundle of sticks. He pointed to them. "I can see Archie's influence in the gift basket."

Evaline looked over and chuckled in amusement. "I can ask them later this week. I'm sure they'll be a lot nicer to me knowing you're sick... maybe."

"They'll at least be nice to me," he said with a little smirk. He gingerly took the bear out of her hands and set it in his lap. "No more comments on how hairy I am, I hope."

She let out a short laugh. "Let me know how that goes," she said, staring at the bear on his lap in amusement. Her eyes then drifted to the book still in his hand. "Is that a children's book?" she asked, eyeing the cover.

"Yes," he said, looking down at it again. "And I will likely read it cover to cover over and over again until I fever dream about it. It's fine."

He put the book back in the basket and looked back down at the journals set in front of him.

"But anyways, I was going to find the poem," he said, picking his up and flipping through the pages. It wasn't so hard to find it, since he didn't draw in his journal near as much as Evaline did, and all he had to do was find the picture.

the lily of the valley is a hidden rose
that blooms where few may find it
but those who stumble upon it- often without looking-
find a gem and priceless treasure

There it was. He nodded to himself, and turned the page around to her so she could see it too. He wasn't afraid to. He knew she'd already seen it before, anyways.

"This one, right?" he asked, just to confirm.

"That's the one," she said sheepishly, her eyes fixated on the page.

"You know, my thoughts behind it were pretty simple. I was comparing you to the lily of the valley, but the comparison didn't go very far. All I really meant by it was that... well, I happened to stumble upon you, and you're an irreplaceable treasure that I didn't mean to find, but I'm glad that I did."

He looked up at her, studying her face for a reaction.

Evaline was still looking at the page, but her expression looked shy and embarrassed. "An irreplaceable treasure," she echoed quietly, likely more to herself than anything. Or maybe it was a question. It was hard to tell, especially since she didn't say anything more.

"Yes," he said softly, still watching her. "Irreplaceable."

She looked down and nervously smiled, glancing up to meet his eyes but seemingly losing the courage to hold it. "I don't really know how to respond to that," she said with a forced light laugh.

"That's okay," James said with gentle understanding. "I wouldn't either. But... I just want you to know I still mean it. More today than yesterday, and more today than when I wrote it."

"But not just today," she said quickly because he knew in moments like these, she didn't like to have pauses in between their sentences. "Not just today, because of, well, everything that happened today. But tomorrow, too? And the next week after that. Even when -- because, you know, not everyday is like today. It'll get hard, and I guess I just -- hah..."

At this point, her voice was clearly soaked in anxiety, and she sighed, starting over and looking up at him solemnly.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed."

James met her eyes, just as solemn but full of tenderness. He slowly reached out to brush her hair behind her ear.

"There are no perfect treasures, but that doesn't make them any less valuable," he said softly. "I expect things to get harder, and I don't expect every day to be like today. I don't expect it to be easy. But I think that's what makes it beautiful... choosing to be kind, and patient, and honest doesn't mean anything if you can't do it when it's hard. I don't want it if it's only easy. Then it's not real."

At first, it seemed that his words were sinking in and leaving a positive impression on her, but slowly, her smile faded and she looked down with worry and concern. Maybe even a hint of fear. He slowly pulled his hand away, and looked at her closely, his brows drawing together.

"James, there's something you should know. I don't think I did a good job telling you this at the cave during the sandstorm, and you just reminded me..." She sighed deeply.

He leaned in just a little, watching her in earnest.

"I'm listening," he said softly.

"You said you don't want it if it's only easy," she said slowly, then hesitantly looked up to meet his face with serious eyes. "Do you mean that? For all times? When things are really hard?"

James met her eyes with equal seriousness and sincerity. He took just a second, considering the cost. Considering the commitment.

"Yes," he said with full honesty.

Evaline took a deep breath, pausing to recollect her thoughts for a moment before responding.

"I know it might be hard to think about this right now, but do you remember when I told you that the consequences to my magic is 'all in my head'?"

James nodded, his attention still solely on her.

"I didn't really... explain that. But it's true, and it's hard sometimes for me to remember when that happens, but from others' experiences, I know I can be..."

She dropped eye contact in shame.

"Difficult."

"You mentioned losing track of what's real," James said gently. "Is that part of how it affects your memory?"

"No, that's--" She bit her lip and shook her head. "Something else. But I can see how... I mean, my memory does get fuzzy because I don't know what's real. Like... a nightmare that you can't tell apart from reality."

She glanced up at him, almost like she was begging for him to understand. "Does that... make sense?"

"I think so. Is it like, hallucinations?" James asked.

"I think--" Evaline began, then she nodded with relief. "Kind of. Yes. Yes, similar to that. Except... more... vivid. Kind of like, my brain compensating from what I've seen in all the timelines I erased. Compensating with things that could've happened that only I can see, like it's all blending together... in my head. And not just that, but other timelines too, and even old memories. And emotions. My own fears. And..."

She looked up at him again, pausing before she continued to go on another long spiel.

"Does that make sense?" she asked again.

James nodded. "It sounds quite literally like a nightmare," he said solemnly.

"And depending on how many times I go back in one sitting, it can last for days. Weeks. Even months," she said quietly, dropping her gaze again. "That's why... it can be difficult. I can be difficult. And I think you should know."

"Thank you," he said. "For telling me."

He paused, watching her face look down in shame and worry.

"If, or when that happens," he said steadily. "I want you to know that I will do my utmost to continue to treat you with even more patience, kindness, and respect. I would never want to abandon you when you're having such a terrifying experience, no matter how difficult you may be. You've told me before that you are stubborn. Well, you've yet to see how stubbornly persistent I can be to stay true to my word."

Evaline listened quietly, but her eyes softened as she slowly drifted her eyes back to his face.

"For every moment of difficulty I might endure, I will consider the eventual reward. You said the side effects don't last forever. Though I might not know the day that they will fade, I know without a doubt that the Evaline I know is worth waiting for. However long it takes."

The Evaline I know is worth waiting for. However long it takes.

His words unlocked a wave of emotions Evaline didn't know she had. But it wasn't overwhelming like it would be when she slipped back in time. It was like someone had splashed color on a black-and-white canvas, or she had put on glasses after years of blurry vision.

It felt revitalizing.

She felt tears at the back of her eyes as her heart began to gently knock against her ribcage, like it was letting her know it was there, alive and beating. The perpetual anxiety in her mind seemed to impossibly melt away, and the fear that had been stubbornly lodged at the back of her head suddenly faded away.

It was always an imminent, looming fear she had, even before meeting James. But after she had gotten closer to James, it had only grown bigger and bigger, even when he told her words that should have went against the fear.

But now, today, they became official partners. They had a courtship. They were being more honest with one another. And even though the fear consumed her yesterday when he confessed that he loved her, she had time to think this morning. Time to think about what to do, how she could approach this, and whether this fear was something she wanted to live with.

And now, this. This.

Hearing him say that he will wait for her, even if she was difficult. That he will not abandon her, especially when she needed him the most. That he was stubbornly insistent on being true to his word. That she was worth it. Even if it took days. Weeks. Months.

The fear of abandonment was always there. Everyone in her life had abandoned her when she became too difficult. Her parents, her closest friends, her allies. They all left her, in the end. And part of it was her fault. Most of it was her fault, because she wanted to leave. She told them to leave. And they gladly left. They gladly let her leave.

And so, combined with her decision—her desire—to have James be part of her future, and communicating their relationship to be official, and addressing all these topics that they had been avoiding for months, and hearing his unwavering loyalty and devotion to not leave her even if things get tough, and causing the fear and anxiety and stress to melt away to get replaced by something else—

She wondered if she loved him too.

Evaline felt a small tear roll down her cheek as she met his gentle eyes, but she quickly sniffed and wiped it away.

"Um—" she said, suddenly feeling her heart beat faster and her head becoming more lightweight. "I..."

She didn't know what to say. James always did this, over and over. Say something she couldn't ever match. She wished she could return the favor, but she never knew how.

Instead she looked up at him with glossy eyes, letting the previous fleeting thought play through her head and hoping that he could somehow read it in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

James smiled softly. He didn't expect her to have carefully thought out words to express how she was feeling. She'd told him before - she needed time, and it was easier for her to write them out, or show it in other ways. Thank you was more than enough to let him know that she'd received it.

When the day came that he would have to prove himself, he hoped that she would see that he meant every word.

"You are most welcome," he said. He paused, smiling at her again with his eyes, but with great sincerity behind them. "Partner."

Even though she had calmly accepted the idea before, it was starting to heavily sink in that they were partners. Partners.

It was more than an infatuation and more than friendship. It was a strong romantic attraction and affection. A precursor to marriage.

James and Evaline, partners. On the same path, together. Learning about each other everyday. Always wanting the best for each other. Being there for each other no matter what.

She was patient to go at his pace for intimacy, and in a different context, it seemed that he was patient to go at her pace for romance. It was just... she didn't think she would fall so soon, and now she was scared that they were going too fast.

A part of her was sounding alarms that this felt fast, but another part of her thought this felt right. She didn't know what to do or what to say, especially since this was an internal battle she fought herself.

Evaline tore her gaze away from him and looked down with the remnant of the bashful smile, slowly reaching out and placing her hand on his knee, gently rubbing it with her thumb.

James knew it wouldn't last forever - or ever very long - but for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It was just him, and Evaline, and there were dozens of dangers awaiting them outside of the oasis, but they had each other, and for the moment, they were safe. They could rest.

It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, and sleepiness started creeping in. But he didn't want to fade just yet.

His eyelids lowered halfway, and he looked down at Evaline's hand that rested on his knee and put his hand over hers for a moment, content with sitting in a few seconds of silence.

"Should I keep reading?" he asked in a quiet whisper.

Evaline softly smiled as she looked down at James's hand over hers. They didn't say anything after that, but it was like they had a wordless conversation. A conversation in which they were telling each other that they were here and they were not leaving. At least, that was what Evaline imagined hearing.

She looked down at her journal then nodded, slowly pulling away to pick it up and return to the page they were on.

"Here," she said, handing him the journal opened to the page of the dance at mage camp. "Keep going... I want you to see the rest of it."

James nodded, pushing through the brain fog as he flipped to the next page. There were drawings of everyone they'd met there, even baby Leah. He paused, looking at all the faces scattered across the page.

"You're really good at capturing people's likeness," he commented quietly. "I know you were taught to, but nonetheless. It's still impressive."

He paused, looking at the drawing of Nathan in particular.

"You captured that look of suspicion well," he said with a slight smirk, pointing to it with his thumb.

Evaline smiled sheepishly as her eyes traveled to where he pointed. "I might have exaggerated some of the looks to tie it with their personalities," she said. "I figured it'd be more challenging than describing it in words."

James grinned up at her. It was a small thing, but he liked that she'd challenged herself.

"I like it," he said, looking at a group of faces depicting the children from the camp. "Odeta looks accurately mischievous. You can see it in her eyes."

He flipped to the next page, expecting that to be the last of it, but she'd drawn another moment from their time there. It was the two of them, sitting on a log, with Evaline holding baby Leah and James leaning over her shoulder. On the side of the drawing there were several incomplete sketches of Leah, like she'd practiced a few times before drawing the actual moment from a third person perspective.

A small smile rested on James's face.

"It was a good moment to capture," he said softly, angling the journal so Evaline could see.

Evaline leaned in forward and softly smiled, pausing for a moment as if she were trying to replay the memory in her head. "It was," she said, then looked up at him with a more playful smile instead. "Much more peaceful than the kids here."

"You know not all children are like that, right?" James said gently, with a mildly teasing grin. "I just don't think Mikel disciplines them at all. It sounds like he lets them do whatever they want, and they know they can get away with it."

She glanced down at the teddy bear on his lap and clearly tried to repress a smug grin. "They certainly got away with giving a grown man a stuffed bear."

"Its name is Beary," James said like he was correcting her. "Though Ferdinand only spelt it with one 'r' and one vowel, so I may be butchering the pronunciation."

Evaline laughed through her nose as the smile crept up to her lips. "I'll let him know you'll sleep with Beary tonight. And then maybe he'll tell me the real pronounciation."

James scoffed, looked down at the bear with a grin. "Sure, sure," he drawled, returning his attention to the journal.

On the next page there were a few drawings of him reading. They were all from slightly different angles, or with slightly different lighting, but it was all the same moment. He flipped to the next page, and there were more. Like she'd tried to capture the moment exactly, over and over again. And then he saw the picture that he remembered seeing over a week ago, when they'd had the accidental mixup with the journals.

For some reason, of all of the drawings he'd seen Eve draw of him, this one seemed to embarass him the most, and he visibly shrank at the thought that someone would obsess over one moment of him simply reading a book in a deep focus. And he could tell that the drawings were deliberate. Like she'd carefully drawn every line to get it just right.

He hadn't even noticed that day that she'd been watching him so closely. He'd been consumed by the book.

He didn't look up at Evaline as he felt his face starting to burn again.

"How long... were you watching me?" he asked.

She didn't spend much time peering into the journal to see what he was referencing. It was like she knew what page he was on, perhaps because she had memorized its placement. Like she had come back to this page, over and over.

"I don't know," she said, then paused. "It was when I woke up. Maybe a minute... I looked away when I thought you'd notice me."

"I was oblivious," he said. "I wouldn't have even remembered this moment if I wasn't staring at it."

"I'm glad I can remind you then," she said quietly.

James stared down at the last drawing, seeing the notes underneath it again. For the second time.

• The morning after Woodhearst. He likely immediately opened his book at the first sign of sunlight.
  
  
• Brow slightly arched, lips slightly pursed, like this position helped him absorb every sentence. I wonder if he usually reads like this?
  
  
• The sun looks really nice on his skin. The golden rays of the sun make his hair look redder than usual.
  
  
• Someday: shades of red, brown, orange, yellow. Dark blue for eyes.
  
  
• A black and white drawing doesn't do this memory justice. At least I captured how focused and peaceful he looked.
  
  
• Thankfully, he didn't notice me staring. I should have kept observing so I could have seen how the light shined through his hair and reading eyes.
  
  
• This is one of my favorite poses of his, but I feel like I'm missing something. Redo in future?

James laughed a little. Reading this now felt different for some reason, and he couldn't find words to describe why.

"It's funny that that's your... favorite," he said, sounding a little nervous and unsure - because he was. He had no idea what to say. "I have no idea if that's how I normally look when reading. No one's ever drawn it before, and, well, you know..."

It wasn't like he looked in a mirror while reading.

Evaline looked down at the drawing, seemingly in thought. "It might be my second favorite now," she said softly. "You haven't seen my favorite one yet."

James didn't know why that made him more nervous.

"Oh," he said, gingerly flipping to the next page.

It was the drawing of him sleeping. The only other one he'd seen before, and this one, he remembered because he'd woken up and she was right there in front of him, with her journal. At least, before she'd hid it behind her, all flustered. The notes there were the same as before.

• Similar sunlight pattern, but different. Desert?
  
  
• Note the shadows versus direct rays of light on his skin.
  
  
• Hands cupped around his face. Almost childlike... adorable.
  
  
• So peaceful, like he is a simple man with simple problems.
  
  
• Beard looks to be

He couldn't help but almost snort a laugh at the second-to-last note.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He pointed to it, so she would know what he'd read. "It's just funny to me."

"Well..." she said, staring at the words. "You looked like that, but I'm glad it's not that simple." She smiled up at him. "Like you said, humans are complex."

James looked up and met her eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too."

He paused to look back down at the drawing one last time, then flipped the page again. It looked like it was the same moment, but right after he'd opened his eyes. She'd captured his bleary-eyed confusion and his mid-motion of him sitting up. He laughed through his nose, and looked at the next page across from it. From there, it looked like she'd taken a break from drawing people and had started drawing plants, and Elliot, and some people he didn't recognize. He wondered if her getting caught drawing him made her scared to draw him again for a while.

He looked at the people she'd drawn, then up at Evaline.

"Are these people from Earth?" he asked.

Evaline slowly looked down at the page like she dreaded to know what he was looking at. "Yes," she said quietly.

He paused, trying to gauge her reaction, and if he should ask more questions or not. He could always ask about them later... if he remembered this moment. After last night, he wasn't sure he could trust his mind to retain everything.

The thought made him hesitate even more.

"If you--"

"They were--" she said at the same time.

"Sorry," he said. "What were you going to say?"

For some reason this seemed to make her more nervous. "What were you going to say?"

"I... I just wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about them," he said softly. "It's alright if you don't, right now. But I would love to hear whatever you want to share."

"Oh," she said, just as soft, then hesitated as slowly looked back down at the drawings. She sighed. "Well... I was going to say they were friends. For the most part."

She pointed to one page.

The first person depicted was a young woman. It looked like she had darker skin and big, curly hair that framed big eyes. In almost every drawing of her, she looked to have a kind, gentle expression, and she was smiling. Most of the drawings were of her face, but there was one full-body drawing with clothing that looked distincly not of Nye. Of all the pictures of her, there was one that looked like it was the same woman aged down where she had softer features, and hair that was shorter and frizzier. She was wearing something that resembled a uniform. Maybe for school.

"What was her name?" he asked gently.

"She went by Mel," she said after a hesitation.

"Was she as kind as she appears in your depictions of her?"

Evaline nodded. "I'd like to think so."

It looked like she wanted to say something else, and James waited patiently.

"She was the only one who came back for me," she said quietly. "After I left."

James paused, looking up at her.

"Were you close?" he asked.

"We had been friends since we were twelve," she replied. He couldn't help but notice that she avoided the question. But he knew he was no better. He didn't want to force it out of her. Not all at once. He only hummed in response, looking back down at the drawings for a moment before turning the page. On one page, there was a teenaged boy drawn. He had short dark hair that was brushed back, but a little messy. He wore clothes similar to Mel's, but more masculine, and a little less clean-cut - it almost looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. He looked grumpy in most of the drawings, and there was only one resembling a smile, and it was a smug smirk. One drawing in particular was of him looking right out of the page, like he was meeting her eyes (or his, as he was looking down). His expression was grim and serious, like he was disappointed, or perhaps, betrayed. As if he was saying: "I can't believe you."

James's gaze settled on that last expression for a moment.

"What about him? What was his name?"

Evaline sighed and looked tired. "Alistair," she said flatly. "We were friends."

James nodded, letting her leave it at that. He turned his attention to the adjacent page full of drawings.

There, she'd drawn a young woman. She had sharp, defined brows, dark eyes, and dark wavy hair tied back in a bun, with a few loose hairs framing her face. She looked more serious than the previous two, and her attire was different. More armored, like it was meant for combat. Her page didn't look complete, and the drawings didn't look quite as developed.

"And her name?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes were kept in place by the drawings. "Tula," she finally said. "But we weren't friends. Not really. She was someone I worked with."

He nodded. He repeated the names several times over and over in his head, associating them with the faces as he turned the page.

He blinked slowly when he found himself looking down at... drawings of himself that were very different from the rest. These ones were mugshots; drawings of him staring ahead with a neutral expression (though, perhaps his resting frown was a little exaggerated). And there wasn't just one. There were variations, like Evaline had said she'd done for the posters Brooks paid her for, except he only remembered her describing three variations. Here, there were six.

In one, his head was shaved. One resembled how he looked now (which he knew well enough after seeing so many drawing of himself from the past 3 months), and one was with his hair and beard greatly exaggerated in length. Those were the ones he might've expected to see, based on what Evaline had told him before. But of the other three, there was also one of him clean-shaven with long hair, one with a full beard and buzzed hair, and one with medium-length hair and just a mustache.

He didn't say anything at first as he looked at them. These felt familiar. This was what he was used to seeing in any depiciton of himself. This was the man he saw in any reflection, not the smiling, bashful, more expression one in the previous pages.

"I see you were inspired to draw them again," he said quietly.

"It's not the same inspiration as the other drawings," she said, quick to reply like she had prepared for this moment. She looked up to meet his eyes. "I wanted to prepare next time in case I had to draw you again. Suggest and practice variants that weren't you. Or imagine what you'd look like with them, so if you needed a new look..." She trailed off in thought.

"Based on your drawing, a mustache would probably be my last choice," he said.

The edge of Evaline's lip went up into a half-smile. "Not to say that you should go for the look, but..." She paused, starting to smirk. "Makes you look like a whole new person."

He hummed. For that reason, he might consider it. But at the moment, he was a little too vain. Which felt strange to think of himself in that way, but he did care what he looked like... for now.

He stared at the not-posters for a few seconds longer before abruptly turning the page, like he was glad to move on.

It appeared that he had reached the day they'd celebrated her birthday.

He looked down at a drawing of him holding out the flower crown he'd made for her, one of him playing the harmonica, and one of him by the swing when he looked at her stubbornly refusing to go first. Across the two pages, there were many notes written between the drawings, filling the pages with written details of that day.

At the bottom of the page, she'd written a note to herself saying: "I should have just written a journal entry, but oh well. The rest of the details are in that section." He grinned at that in mild amusement.

"This was probably one of my favorite days over the last few months," he said. "It was a good day."

Evaline pursed her lips and looked to be in thought, like she was sifting through her memories and trying to figure out which was her favorite day, but she didn't say any of it out loud. Finally, she smiled warmly at him and nodded.

"I agree," she said. "It was my favorite day too."

James found himself mirroring her smile as he looked up at her.

"I'm glad," he said softly, looking back down at the page. He didn't feel the need to read all of the notes at this point. He remembered that day well, and he was sure he could hear her version of it some other time. He flipped to the next page, and stared.

Evaline had drawn him cross-eyed, with her finger on his nose. The evening they'd watched the sunset by the waterfall, on the edge of the plateau. On the bottom half of the page he was drawn in the same position, but looking straight ahead, and his face was drawn to look like it was facepainted with the markings she'd said she would do. Three whiskers on each cheek. A dot on his nose, and accentuated eyes.

And beside that, a little cartoon cat going "meow."

If he hadn't been growing progressively more tired, he would've laughed, but he ended up just smiling.

"I like the little cat," he said, before specifying. "The actual cat."

"Oh... hah," Evaline said weakly after peering over, clearly embarrassed. "I, um... I don't usually draw things like that."

"I think it's cute," James said, looking at her with a grin.

She scratched the side of her neck. "You seeing this makes me feel like an exposed child," she mumbled.

James raised his eyebrows, tilting his head a little to the side as he grinned.

"Well I like what I see," he said. "So there."

Evaline turned her head to look up at him, still embarrassed, but she was smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."

James held her gaze for a moment, and then looked back down at the journal. On the page next to the cat-related drawings, she'd drawn the both of them looking out at the sunset, holding hands. It was drawn from a third person's perspective again, like they were looking at themselves through someone else's eyes, even though no one else was there to see - besides Elliot, at least.

The notes below the drawing had less to do with notes about how things looked and seemed to be her reflections on that moment they shared.

• I fear I am starting to get too attached.
  
  
• I wanted to hold his hand. I'm glad I didn't have to ask.
  
  
• I'm unsure why he showed me that memory... I think he wanted me to be happy. And I think it might have worked.
  
  
• In times of hardship, I'll remember this day.
  

"When I showed you that memory," he said. "Of me and Larrel. I did want you to be happy." He paused, looking up at her. "I'm glad that it worked."

Evaline's features softened, but she still looked a little nervous. They were also approaching the end of the portion before the bookmark, and she was eyeing the remaining pages.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For that."

"If you ever need cheering up again," he said. "Just let me know."

Evaline softly smiled while still looking down at the journal, seemingly in thought.

"No one has ever used my magic in that way," she said. "Not with the intent of having me feel something."

"Well that's a shame," he said. "Because I would love to share my happiness with you."

She looked away bashfully, then reached out to place her hand on his knee again. "Sometimes I wish it worked the other way around," she said softly. "Where I can show you my memories instead."

"I guess you'll just have to tell me stories, then," he said just as softly. "I would enjoy that just as much."

Evaline rubbed his knee and looked up to meet his eyes. "I could do that," she said. "If you ask me for them."

"I will try not to ask too often, then," he said, closing his eyes and smiling.

"Likewise," she said, still rubbing his knee with her thumb.

For the moment he kept his eyes closed, he felt his head grow heavy again. He opened them, and looked back down at the journal. Next page. He could hold on a little longer.

Evaline placed a hand over the journal before he could.

"Wait," she said, almost urgently. "I can tell you're getting tired. And I... well..." She laughed nervously. "I'm actually not sure if you should read this when tired, nevertheless sick."

James looked up at her. She said read. It was his understanding up til this point that most of what she'd shown him had been drawings. But he also remembered... she'd said he hadn't seen her favorite part yet. There were only a few pages left.

"You would keep me in suspense," he said slowly. "Because I'm sleepy?"

"And sick," she reiterated as if it mattered considering he had seen everything else.

"Contrary to popular belief," he said, even though it made no sense to say so, "I have been sick this whole time. If I can handle kitty cats and seeing this many pictures of myself, I think it'll be okay."

"I just don't know if you'll fully get it," Evaline pressed on, more stubborn than necessary.

"Evaline. I'm sick. That doesn't make me stupid," he said in return.

She rubbed her face, pausing with furrowed brows while she clearly tried to think of a new excuse.

"I know that," she said curtly. "I just -- are you ready? For..." She nervously laughed. "Well, I could just skip one page. I put a dumb joke in there."

"If you drew me as a cat--"

"I did not draw you as a cat," she said flatly and briskly.

"I know I don't smile all the time, but I have a sense of humor too, you know," James said, raising an eyebrow. "If it's just a dumb joke--"

"It's not so much dumb, like a pun or have any kind of punchline," she interrupted again.

James sighed. "Are you really that afraid of me seeing it?" he asked.

Evaline paused for a moment. "Afraid is a strong word," she said quietly, still not answering his question. She sighed. "Okay. You can look at it, but don't think anything of it. It was just a joke."

James looked at her carefully, with his eyebrows raised just a little bit.

"I will attempt to empty my mind of all thoughts, then," he said with a hint of sarcasm. He then flipped the page.

All of the drawings were of him in various stages of laughter. Pushing it down, closing his eyes, letting it out and leaning his head back, and then forward again. If the drawings were all lined up, it was like fractions of moments frozen in time, and together, they would complete the full moving picture.

At this point, he wasn't surprised that she'd drawn him laughing. He was more surprised that that was what he looked like when he did laugh, which wasn't that often. At least, not like how she'd drawn it.

This was probably the moment after her cat comment.

His eyes continued to scan the page. She'd written a lot of notes about how to draw him laughing. Noting his dimples again, and how he put his hand over his eyes. The wrinkle around his eyes, widening.

Towards the end of the page was a sketch that looked more complete than the others. It was clear she spent more time on it. In it, he was fully smiling with his eyes closed and his mouth open just a little.

Below that drawing on that page, there was only one note, but it was written in big, clear handwriting.

I refuse to fall in love, but I have fallen in love with his laugh.

So that's what she'd been referring to.

James felt like things were starting to slow down.

She hadn't outright said that she loved him. It wasn't written like that. But the last few words spun around in his head over and over, like the missing line of a verse of a poem. Writing a melody and a story in his heart that he was afraid to dream about or think about. Thoughts of a future together beyond what they had now. Something more. Maybe even something like the story she'd told, but the true story, without all of the idealized picture-perfect moments, but a story that was real. A story that was sometimes clumsy and awkward, but genuine and sincere. Full of great difficulty and great joys. Something that was uniquely theirs, but that he didn't know if she wanted yet, or at all.

They'd only just talked about being partners. It didn't make sense to hurry into something more. And yet, his heart was beating loudly in his chest, like it was yelling at him. Like it was demanding to know: did she love him too?

This was a moment that he found himself afraid to put to words.

Slowly, he turned to look up at Evaline. She must have anticipated some kind of reaction as she was already looking up at him, anxious and nervous.

He wasn't smiling, but he met her eyes with a great tenderness.

She said she refused to fall in love. He didn't know if she meant that.

"I see now why you wanted me to be awake, and not sick for this," he said quietly. "But I don't think that would change how I feel. Only how I might've reacted differently."

He paused, thinking over his words. He didn't know how long Evaline would wait, but he did need a moment.