I keep a book of the names

“So have I just given you permission to kiss me because I’m willing to kiss you first? “Or,” she gestured her hand towards his, “this? Could you not touch my hand unless I wanted you to?”

Lochlann didn't like the way he was going to answer her. He was leaning against the wall and his legs were shaking as though he might fall down.

"I don't know, honestly," Lochlann said. "I don't exactly spend a lot of time trying to push the boundaries of what I can and can't do with someone."

To this day, Lochlann wasn't sure why he'd been able to have the relationship he did with Guinevere. There were rules there, too, but they were unexpected. Maybe it was because Guin was a killer? Maybe because she's the one who held the knife to his throat, who took something from him over and over again?

"I don't know what makes certain things okay and certain things not okay. Right now? I have no idea if I could take your hand, but look--the situation looks like it'd be an absolute bad idea, so I'm not really in a place where I would want to find out," he said.


He nodded when she talked about the sex part and Lochlann frowned.

"No, I can't do anything if you didn't want me to," he said. "I can't rape people. I wouldn't want to."

He made a face when he said the word and shook his head.

"I said attempt to initiate but that doesn't mean I'm just whipping my dick out and seeing if it works," Lochlann said. He tried to think of an example. He didn't want to talk about Dani to her. He didn't want to bring ghosts into this.

The only one who was still alive was Guinevere.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head against the wall.

"Say we've been dating for a month. It's dark, we're kissing, we're growing more bold with our hands, that sort of thing. You've never given me permission to, but I could pull you onto my lap. I could kiss parts of you I hadn't explicit asked to," he said. "That's what I mean by attempt to initiate. I'm still kind of a person. If you were to say no in any way, to indicate it was at all disagreeable, I'd stop or I'd back up."

He swallowed again.

"So yes, if you said no in any way, to anything, I wouldn't be able to do it, even if I wanted to," he said. "Honestly, I wouldn't want to do it. I don't need magic to stop me from being a dick. Situations like that scare me. I don't want to hurt people, I don't want to push them where they're not comfortable."

She grew more fierce at the end and Lochlann wasn't sure if he was relieved or frightened. Maybe it was a bit of both. Maybe her confrontation made him relieved because she was listening, really listening to him, but knowing that she was really listening terrified him.

There was nothing stopping her from walking away from this conversation and taking all the information she had and using against it.

Lochlann felt like he was confessing to murder.

In a way, he almost was.

He swallowed again. His mouth was dry. His legs were visibly shaking now and his palms were cold and he had to wipe them on his pant legs.

"I know," he said. It wasn't pleading. He sound resigned.

He didn't even want to explain but he was in too deep now.

"My entire life revolves around not telling people what I am. My entire life revolves around doing my best to be human, to make sure I look human, to stay human at whatever cost," his voice was quiet. "Even if that cost is dying. And I like being alive. It's what brought me to this damned island to begin with. I'm not secretive because I think it works for me. Christ, it doesn't work, it makes every single thing a thousand times worse. It's because it's the only way I know to make sure I stay alive."

His breath was quick and shallow, but he wasn't quite panting.

He couldn't do this. His hair was damp with sweat.

"I'm a water horse," he said.

The words were out now. There was no taking them back.

"I turn into a person and it's harder for me to stay a person when I'm wet. If I'm submerged in water long enough, it's near impossible, and when I'm in water, I'm hungry, and do you know what happens to the people you love when they follow you into the water? When you tell her under circumstances like these, like we're talking right now, on land, where it's dry and not raining and we're both safe, not to ever come around me in the water," his voice was panicked now, almost frantic, and for a moment Lochlann wasn't talking about her.

"Then it rains and you want that person so badly you forget yourself. But you should both be safe, because you warned her, right? And she'd listen to you, " he said. "But then she doesn't listen."


He'd managed to stay up right when she poked him in the chest, but now Lochlann crumbled. He slid against the wall until he was sitting on the ground, just like he had been on the roof. He put his head between his knees and took several deep breaths.


For all his talk about wanting to be alive, Lochlann thought like death would be a good idea.

"So you do thinks to make yourself less dangerous," he said. "You sedate yourself. You spend long periods alone on tall buildings where you can see people from a distance. You drink until you can barely walk, because if you can barely walk, you're going to be easier to escape from. It'll be easier not to pull someone into a river. But people don't get it, Cat. They just don't get it. They send you to hospitals. They send you to rehab. They keep making you dangerous, because no one cares that you don't want to hurt people. They just care that you don't pass out on the floor in class."

Fuck.

This was the most of himself that Lochlann had ever told anyone, let alone all at once, and Lochlann was pretty certain if he stood up he was going to pass out.

"I like you, Cat," he said it, bitterly, like things would be simpler if he didn't. "And I like that you liked me. But it's better if you don't trust me. It's better that you're afraid of me. You're probably the first person who actually is afraid of me."

He gave a dry, shallow laugh.

"We're on an island full of monsters and the people here are so used to it, that they forget monsters are dangerous," he said. "So there. That's...that's all there is."

Cat’s voice rose and fell like waves on the ocean. He was hyperaware of her every word but he was also hyper aware of how small his lungs were. It felt like a long time for each breath to fill them up and exhale, even though he was breathing fairly rapidly.

He managed to shake his head when she asked that he didn’t know. No, he didn’t know. He had no idea.

She was a statue before him for so long that Lochlann thought that time stopped moving. When Cat started to talk about consent, and then about Paul, Lochlann felt a mix of feelings flash so fast between his ragged breath that he didn’t know which to feel or which to respond to.
Her voice rose and sounded almost like a sob. He wanted to reach out and comfort her but he knew better than to try and touch her now. He managed to lift his head long enough to catch a glimpse of her face, but she covered her hand with her mouth, and it felt like a very private moment. Lochlann dropped his head. He felt his stomach burn hot and his fingers curl into fists over the edge of his knees at the thought of this Paul he never met.

His chest hurt. Lochlann tried to lift a hand to rub his own chest, but then, Cat’s fingers touched his hair.

Just like that, some of the pain abated.

He didn’t know why it was that being touched always made him feel better. He closed his eyes.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“That’s supposed to be the reassuring part,” Lochlann said when she asked what it was about the consent part that made him monstrous. His voice sounded hoarse as though he’d been yelling, though of course he hadn’t been.


She was lifting his head to look at him when she asked about being a water horse. Lochlann flinched—he couldn’t help it. He’d never heard the words without an accusation and he heard the ghost of an accusation now, even if it wasn’t in her own voice.

“Yes,” he said. He was not surprised she picked up on the fae part. Outside of the island he would have been, but here it was more natural. He could sense her attempt to lighten the mood in her dry laugh, so he tried, too. “I actually make quite a nice horse. I can really work a plow.”

His voice sounded shaky and Lochlann was ashamed. He took a deep breath, then another, while she sunk down beside him.


Why did he tell her?

He couldn’t explain that either. He could, but it wasn’t really one thing.

“It’s like you said,” he said, and then he took another breath and his voice came out a little bit steadier. “If I tell someone what’s trouble, she’ll know what to watch out for.”

He took another deep breath. He seemed to be getting a little bit of a grip.

“I didn’t tell Dani,” he said. “She knew, but it was because she asked me, and because Dani was the first other fae I dated. She was hurt anyway. So I guess, if I tell you, now, before it has time to turn into a secret, you have the knowledge to make better choices. And I get the impression you’d have asked me directly sooner or later.”


Lochlann swallowed again. His eyes were closed and he almost jumped when Cat was suddenly so much closer, her arm around her shoulder and bringing his body against hers. There were stories Lochlann had read and forgotten about girls soothing unicorns just by touching them, but unicorns were nice creatures that purified things. Lochlann was toxic. He was already afraid he was poisoning her.

“After I graduate, assuming I graduate, I have to go back to the farm. I have to go back to rural America, where I have to blend in with the locals and talk to the grocer and play at being human and never, ever slip up, because who knows who can be listening, at any time,” Lochlann whispered. “Who knows who will figure out what I am, and then it’s not a stretch to figure out what my parents are, and before my parents die, whoever kills them will try to find out where there are more of us.”

He repeated the story, or one part of it at least, as though it was a story he grew up listening to the way other kids listened to the goldilocks or red riding hood. His voice was detached because this was his reality and Lochlann never, ever considered there might be another one. The only reason his parents hadn’t killed him the first time, or the third, was because they loved him. But he was on the final straw.

Lochlann closed his eyes again. He could feel Cat shaking so, even though he couldn’t specifically know exactly what she was feeling, he had a pretty good guess.

Again, he admired her bravery.
He couldn’t stop himself from liking her.
At least, he thought, if it ended like this, it ended before it really began. It ended up with her still alive.

His chest felt lighter at that thought.

His temple was against hers while she worked through what he was saying, and Lochlann had to resist the urge to nod so they didn’t bump heads together.

He considered this.

“So, the rules, or whatever they should be called, only really….apply to sex and drowning,” he said. He didn’t want to talk about killing her, but he was already there. His voice came out more tired and more drawn than before. There was almost a hint of an old accent, long since buried. His vowels were more clipped and he did something to his r’s that rounded them slightly. “I could throw a paper airplane at you without your permission. I could come into your room without being asked. I could shoot you, probably—I’ve never shot anyone—“ he added the last part in hurriedly. “But I wouldn’t do those things.”

“And no, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Lochlann said. “I think you’re brave and practical and tenacious and headstrong and all of those things make me attracted to you. So I want to kiss you. And I find you attractive, so there’s the physical parts that go with that, but no, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

He was glad, inexplicably glad, that she hadn’t asked if he wanted to eat her.

Never in his life had Lochlann ever considered that maybe, being physically attracted to someone had nothing to do with his desire to eat someone. Sex and death were too intertwined. All the precursors to sex seemed like the beginnings of a eulogy.

Even friendship, even physical contact, seemed like a sort of twisted game. He felt like whatever force was responsible for the creation of the water horse was terribly flawed. Why give a creature that used sex as a lure the ability to feel?

“Yeah,” Lochlann said, and then, “I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath. His breathing was mostly back to normal, but now he felt absolutely wiped.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. For dumping this on her? For asking her out to begin with? For the risks? For being alive? All of the above? He just knew that he couldn’t not apologize.

He picked himself up off his feet and automatically offered his hand to help her up, but then shoved it back in his pocket once he’d realized what he’d done. His fingers jostled the cigarettes in his coat and he knew he’d be smoking one once she was home, safe.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If you decide you don’t want to see me again. You don’t even have to tell me.”

He went over and held the door open for her. He appreciated everything that she’d given him tonight.

Lochlann considered the plow statement, but he wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical. he knew her question about the fae wasn't rhetorical, especially given her reaction.

He took the risk to try to comfort her when she was embarrassed about what she presumed was a blunder by taking a step towards her and said, "No, it's okay. it's okay."

He still wasn't crossing the line of touching her, not yet. Not after the conversation they'd just had.

"The fae are generally tricky," he agreed with her. He still sounded tired and now, when he talked, he didn't exactly sound like he considered himself a fae. He was most certainly, but there was a lilt in his tone that implied he viewed them from the outside. "I think it's okay to wonder these things. my experience ere has been that most--not all, but most--of the non-humans are the island won't be too upset if you ask questions because there are so many varieties. So werewolves, right? I've never met two werewolves that had the same kind of abilities, and you'd think, well they're people that turn into wolves, right? But are they allergic to silver? Not allergic to silver? Full moon or no? That sort of thing. So it's...I think it's okay to wonder, but I think it's nice of you that you don't think we're all ruled by the old stories."

Unfortunately, Lochlann felt like he was ruled by the old stories.

"I didn't grow up with fae," he explained, and then he took that back, shaking his head. He grew up with other water horses, so of course he group up with fae, so he searched for a better explanation. This was the most he'd ever talked about himself.

"I never visited fairyland or whatever it's called," he said. He wasn't sure what else to explain there, but it didn't matter, because suddenly she'd looped her arm through his again.

Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He could never explain why it was this happened, why just being touched by another person relaxed him. Most of the time, he tried to pretend very hard that he didn't notice it.

It was addicting, almost, the little rush of pleasure and the slight untensing in his shoulders and back. It made him hungry for more, and Lochlann was tired, so he was especially tempted to listen to that hunger, to push just a little bit but...

Man, he wanted a cigarette.

He was relieved, though, that she understood that there were loopholes.

"It's a mess," he agreed. He still sounded tired, but maybe because her arm was looped in his, maybe because they were walking and they had a destination, Lochlann seemed to loosen up a little bit. He still felt and sounded exhausted, but his breathing was much more even and, while some of his shakiness lingered, he didn't seem like he was going to pass out.

When she said that he might be one of the most trustworthy people, Lochlann started a little and blinked in surprise. His heart beat a little faster, too. He shook his head.

She asked a lot of questions that he never had to answer before.

He chewed on the inside of his other cheek, because the right side of his mouth was tattered and frayed.

"My best friend left the island right after I graduated," he started. He was frowning, because he wasn't happy to explain this story. "I made a lot of mistakes with her. I didn't tell her what I was. But she was...She was strong. Scary strong. I thought I couldn't hurt her. If anyone should have been safe with me, it was Addy."

He was surprised that saying her name hurt less than he anticipated. He probed the feeling as though it was a missing tooth, where something was missing but the ache was partially numbed by novacaine.

He veered away from the end of the story because, though it didn't hurt to say her name, he felt too tired, too raw and exposed to tell her about Addy's near death after he'd already told her about Dani. Despite his belief that it was best if she ran away, Lochlann wanted her desperately to stay like this, to stay walking with him in the dark, to stay with what felt like the start of a friendship.

"She's okay," he said.

Of course, she'd probably have the scars for the rest of her life.

"But the mistake was that she trusted me and she liked me enough to listen to me even when everything about the situation said I was dangerous, because she believed I wouldn't want to hurt her," he said.


He wasn't sure how to explain how he could both want and not want something so badly at the same time until it consumed him.

"I don't know how to explain it," he said, and then he flinched. "I don't know how to explain a lot of this because I don't know what it's like to not feel it. I guess it's like--"

He realized something.

He'd told her everything.

It meant terrible, horrible condemnation, but it also meant he could share with her the stories that he'd never been able to really share with anyone. Guin, maybe, had heard some of them--he had a feverish memory of telling her about the dolphins.

"It's like learning there are names, real names, for all of the fish," he said. "Before, they were just fish. I knew which ones are small and which ones are big, which was swim in schools and which ones don't. But suddenly, when I was in school, there are names for them. There's people who put on scuba suits and breath air just to look at these fish. And I never thought about what they were called because I saw them so frequently they were just part of the landscape. "

He shook his head.

"So there might be someone who actually knows how it works, someone who can pinpoint the rules and tell you why they exist and how they came to be, but I'm afraid they're just part of the landscape. Don't trust me is like saying don't eat the spiky fish. I don't know how the poison goes through a person's blood stream if you eat a puffer fish, only that the fish isn't one that should be eaten," he said.

Of course, it was possible to eat the puffer fish. It was just much safer not to take the risk.

He was letting her lead the walk because, while Lochlann had an idea of the general area, he wasn't clear on the specifics.

When she gave him a sideways glance and he'd caught it because he was looking at her sideways to see how she was taking this, Lochlann was surprised by her question.

She was remarkably good at flooring him.

If she decided to speak to him again, and he hoped she would and she wouldn't all at the same time, Lochlann was going to have to award her for the most times he'd ever been speechless in one night.

He already knew the answer to the question. Monsters didn't get happy endings.

"There's no other option," Lochlann finally said.

He swallowed.

"I mean, have you thought about what you're going to do when you're done...here?" he said, echoing back to their previous conversation, from before he'd soured things.

“This whole thing is a mess,” she murmured in agreement. “This whole island is one big mess.”

Lochlann laughed.

He wasn't expecting it--it just bubbled and spilled out like an overflowing river. He tried to clamp his free hand over his mouth to stop from laughing, but he couldn't. He kept trying to take the same slow breaths he'd used to calm down but the laughter kept creeping back up.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he took another deep breath, giggled for a moment, and then finally managed to get a grip on himself.

If this was the last night they would spend together, at least he could end it with the taste of laughter on his lips again.

They were probably getting close to her apartment--they were at least near the bookstore. Lochlann hesitated in case she wanted to go alone from here.

"It's just," he said. "You're right. This whole place is one big mess. It's just...I think you're the only person whose actually said it."

For most people Lochlann knew, a magical school was a whimsical and life changing thing. For Lochlann, it was a prison statement. He didn't hate it here anymore but he didn't exactly picture himself staying.

When she suggested that he be a base jump teacher, Lochlann laughed again, and he gave her shoulder a gentle bump back.

He was exhausted. For the first time in a long time, Lochlann would probably get a full night sleep.

"You'll be okay from here?" he asked her. He gave her a small smile.

He would be okay if this was how it ended.

Worried, neurotic, and anxious about the uncertainty of knowing that someone who knew all about him was alive, but for once, Lochlann realized he wasn't completely terrified. he was scared, but he wasn't consumed by it. She was a long stronger than he was, too.