The Boy Who Was My Dream

The lake glittered beneath the stars, calm and endless, a mirror for the sky. It had always been a prison to Ewan, a reminder of what waited for him below. But tonight, standing at the edge with Rory, it felt like something else entirely, like a stage where he would either shatter or be set free.

His hands were trembling. His breath refused to steady. But if he didn’t speak now, he would never forgive himself.

“Rory,” he said. His voice broke on the name.

Rory turned to him, brows drawn slightly, concern etched on his face. Even worried, he looked radiant, his hair catching the faint light, his eyes warm despite the guarded look.

Ewan’s chest ached. He pressed his fists to his sides, willing himself not to run. “I need to tell you something. Before it’s too late.”

Rory stepped closer, searching his face. “Too late for what?”

Ewan swallowed hard. His throat felt raw, but the words clawed their way out anyway. “For this. For us. I…” His voice cracked, and heat rose in his cheeks. He forced his eyes shut, blurting it all at once, raw and desperate. “I love you.”

The world went silent, except for the rush of blood in his ears.

When he opened his eyes again, Rory was staring at him like the ground had disappeared under his feet. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. His cheeks were red, burning even under the dim glow of moonlight.

“You…” Rory’s voice shook, and then he let out a shaky laugh that was half disbelieving, half overjoyed. “You can’t just… say it like that. Out of nowhere.”

Ewan’s face burned hotter. He turned away, teeth clenched, mortified. “I told you it was stupid…”

“No.” Rory grabbed his wrist before he could retreat. His grip was strong and grounding, his voice thick. “Say it again.”

Ewan froze. His heart slammed against his ribs. Slowly, his eyes darted up to Rory’s, which were wide and glimmering, his blush creeping up to the tips of his ears.

“I love you,” Ewan whispered again, barely able to breathe.

Rory’s breath caught. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Rory broke into the kind of smile that made Ewan want to collapse into him forever, bright, unrestrained, like the sun had risen just for them.

“You idiot,” Rory said softly, his voice trembling. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

Ewan’s chest swelled so tight he thought he would burst. But before the joy could carry him away, the weight of the truth pulled him back down. His expression faltered.

“There’s more,” he said, voice small.

Rory blinked, his grin fading into concern. “What is it?”

Ewan pulled his hand free, clutching it against his chest. “You don’t know who I am. And if I don’t tell you… then this won’t mean anything.” His breath shook. “I’m not human. Not like you.”

Rory stared, silent, as Ewan’s words spilled like floodwaters.

“My people… we used to live here, long ago. We were hunted, driven into the water. We hid beneath the lake, in sleep, waiting. My guardian brought me to the surface as a child, to see if we could live among humans. If it was safe. If I was accepted.” His throat tightened. “I was supposed to feed, Rory. On dreams. That’s why I was always sick. Because I hated it. Because I stopped.”

He forced himself to look up, desperate, pleading. “But it doesn’t hurt anyone. Taking dreams, it doesn’t harm them. I swear.” His voice cracked. “I never wanted to trick you. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought if you knew, you’d hate me.”

The silence after felt unbearable.

Hands shaking, Ewan drew a trembling breath. “I’ll show you. And then… if you can’t look at me the same, I’ll understand.”

Before he could lose his nerve, he let the mask slip.

His eyes, once deep blue with faint hints of violet, shifted, bright, vivid amethyst, no whites in them at all, glowing faintly in the dark. His ears tapered sharper, elegant and alien, and a faint mark, like an inked design, bloomed across his forehead, darker than his skin, ancient and otherworldly.

He stood trembling, every part of him raw and exposed. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. “This is who I am,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

Rory’s gaze locked on him, unreadable. Ewan braced himself for disgust, for fear, for the look he had seen too many times when people sensed the strangeness in him.

He flinched when Rory leaned closer, shutting his eyes tight, ready for rejection.

But instead, Rory’s lips pressed gently against his.

Ewan’s breath caught. His eyes flew open, then fluttered closed again as warmth flooded him, so sudden it hurt. His whole body trembled, tears spilling down his cheeks as he kissed back, helpless and overwhelmed.

When Rory finally pulled away, his forehead rested against Ewan’s, his voice low, fierce, and shaking with emotion. “Beautiful.”

Ewan’s knees nearly gave out. His face burned to his ears, every inch of him flushed. His heart swelled so impossibly full it was almost painful. He choked out a laugh between his tears, clinging to Rory’s shirt. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Rory said, smiling through his own red cheeks. “But I meant it. All of it.”

Ewan’s tears wouldn’t stop. He had never imagined acceptance like this, never dreamed he could be seen, truly seen, and still loved. The ache in his chest gave way to something vast and radiant, filling him until he thought he might explode.

“I don’t want to go back,” he whispered fiercely, clutching Rory tighter. “Under the lake. Away from you. I’ll stay here. Because you’re my dream, Rory. And as long as I have you, I don’t need to feed on anyone else’s.”

Rory let out a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around him. “Then stay. With me.”

The lake shimmered behind them, silent and watching, its ancient secrets heavy beneath the surface. But for the first time, Ewan didn’t feel its pull.

The only pull he felt was the one holding him here, warm and real, with Rory’s arms around him and the promise of a future that might finally be his to choose.

And for once, the night didn’t feel endless. It felt like the beginning.