What's This? Another Confession!

Asterion was under strict orders to lie down and do nothing, so he did just that. As he lay on the ground, he tried to adjust himself so he could watch Daffodil work. This was only their second night camping, but the man already seemed to be an expert at making camp. Within a few minutes, he had a fire going, supplies ready for cooking dinner, and their bedrolls sitting to the side so he could set them up the second Asterion got tired.

They passed the time easily. Daffodil told Asterion a little bit about what his life had been like in the real world, although it was clear there were a few things he purposefully didn’t mention. Even now that they would be living in WanderQuest for the rest of their lives—and wasn’t that an insane thought?—Asterion didn’t want to talk about his life in the real world. Instead, he talked about past quests he’d never told Daffodil about and tried to educate him a little on some of the most common monsters they were likely to come across in the area.

As Daffodil had predicted, Asterion was already growing tired by the time the sun prepared to set. Daffodil was cooking a meal for them—something simple but plenty nourishing to help the wound heal, according to him—and as Asterion watched him he knew he needed to tell the man his feelings.

Of course, there was no way in hell Asterion would do something like that immediately, so he spent the next twenty minutes contemplating how to phrase it. By the time he was ready to confess, Daffodil was handing him a plate of food and helping him sit up properly. The two ate in silence for a few minutes before Asterion awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “So I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.”

Daffodil almost dropped his fork but managed to look nonchalant as he said, “And?”

“I… I think I love you too,” Asterion started. Everything he’d planned to say was thrown out the window with the rest of his thoughts as Daffodil’s face broke into the biggest grin he’d ever seen on the man. He tried to collect his thoughts and continued. “I know this is going to sound bad, but you deserve a proper explanation.

“I tend to freak out when I need to talk to strangers which makes it hard to play MMOs. When I started playing WanderQuest, it was easier to pretend there was no one behind the character I saw on my computer screen. I got so in the habit that it accidentally extended to everyone… including you. It was weird because I considered you to be my best friend, but I also never imagined you as being a real human being. It wasn’t until we were both brought into this game that I really allowed myself to think of you as being real. And I’ve realized that any feelings I’d swept away while pretending you didn’t exist, I’m now allowed to feel them. And that includes the romantic feelings I’d been ignoring.”

Asterion had rushed through his speech as quickly as possible so Daffodil couldn’t interrupt his flow. Even still, Daffodil sat silently and allowed Asterion to say everything he’d wanted to say.

“So… you love me?” Daffodil asked like he was trying to make sure. Asterion’s convoluted tangent had been all over the place so he guessed he could understand Daffodil needing clarification. He nodded his confirmation, completely out of words to say.

“I love you too,” Daffodil said. “We love each other.”

“I guess so,” Asterion said with a grin. Then he added, “So, now what?”

That made Daffodil pause. “Huh. I never really thought that far ahead.”

“We could kiss,” Asterion suggested. It sounded pretty tempting to him.

Daffodil looked him up and down and laughed. “Right now?” he asked. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Asterion hadn’t been aware of how exhausted he was until it was brought to his attention. As if a spell was broken, he suddenly felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. He could sleep for a hundred years and it wouldn’t be enough to dispel the feeling. He put his plate down, fearing it would slip out of his loose grip otherwise.

“And? We could sneak in a kiss or two before that,” he said, trying to sound suave. The effect was neutralized by the awkward slurring of his words.

“Tomorrow,” Daffodil promised instead as he started unrolling Asterion’s bedroll. Asterion hadn’t even noticed him leave to grab the bag. Once Daffodil was finished with that he picked up his own bag and began walking to the other side of the campfire.

“Wait,” Asterion said, stopping the slow shuffle into his bedroll. Daffodil halted immediately. “Could you sleep next to me tonight?” I want you near me, he wanted to say. Instead, he added, “In case my injury takes a turn for the worse. It’ll be better if you’re closer, right?”

Asterion knew nothing would make his injury worse; Daffodil’s healing salve was the best he’d ever seen and the wound was almost completely closed already. He was sure Daffodil knew that too, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter his true feelings. Not yet. Daffodil seemed to understand Asterion’s hesitance. He set his bedroll down next to Asterion’s and said, “Of course. You might lose the arm if I’m not here.”

Asterion rolled his eyes fondly and finished settling into his bedroll. The stitches tugged a little, but he bravely kept a straight face so as not to disturb Daffodil’s nightly routine. It was clear Daffodil wouldn’t be going to bed for a while yet; he had just opened his greenhouse bag and was about to enter the lengthy process of taking care of each plant. Asterion wanted to stay up longer, to talk to Daffodil or just sit in silence next to him, but his eyelids were drooping and he found the act of keeping them open more effort than it was worth. He murmured, “Goodnight, Daffodil,” but it was so quiet he wasn’t sure it was heard and then he was dead to the world.