Three True Things

For my entire life, Mom and Dad insisted they did not believe in the Piercy family curse. But when I got home from school today, the dining table was laid out with my favorites: pot roast and gravy potatoes, honey-glazed carrots, cranberry sauce, and that cold grape and broccoli salad Mom only ever makes in the summer.

I dropped my backpack onto the floor. It hit with a sharp thunk on the hardwood, drawing Mom’s head up. Dad glanced in from the den, where he sat next to my little brother Ellis at the computer.

“The last supper,” I said, calm as I could manage. I was tense already from my fight with Jonas after practice.

Dad scowled and turned Ellis’s head back to the monitor, dismissing me as melodramatic, and Mom said, “Jack,” like she used to when I was about to be sent to the stairs for time-out. “Go wash your face, and be back in a jiff.”

Giving her a stiff shrug, I turned to take the stairs three at a time, but she called, “Jack. Happy birthday.”

I paused where she couldn’t see me, one hand on the wall for balance. They could pretend my birthday the reason for the me-based meal if they liked. The curse wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t like you could skip the first born son if you wanted to have a second.


Grandma had told me about it when I was just a little kid. Seven or eight, I think, and she waddled with her cane into our old TV room to find me sprawled on the floor watching some cartoon. “Get outside, Jack!” she yelled, loud as I’d ever heard her. “Get outside and live while you can!”

I pushed harder into the beanbag propping up my back half, forcibly kept my eyes on the cartoon. “In a few, Gramma. It’s almost over.”

She towered over me, bright as an angel from her silver helmet hair to the pink and yellow old lady dress to the buckles on her sandals. “You don’t understand, boy.” Grandma lifted her cane and tapped the rubber end of it into my shoulder. “That TV is a waste of your eighteen years.”

It was such a weird thing for her to say, I felt cold. “Huh?”

Her cane pressed harder into my arm. “Your daddy hasn’t said anything? Hasn’t told you why you’ve got to enjoy the time you have?”

I sat, to get away from her cane. “No.”

With more strength than I expected, Grandma hauled me up and used me like a second cane, half dragging, half leaning on me. She set me down at the kitchen bar and told me this:

More than a hundred years ago, your great-great-great grandpa went out onto a hill where the Good Folk were known to dance, and begged them for favors. He was drunk, and desperate, and out of work, and you know when a door opened up in that earth he nearly dropped dead right there. But a thin little woman came out, beautiful as a saint, and took his hand and drew him inside where a splendid party was going. Food poured off of tables and wine flowed, a hundred perfect couples danced to flutes and fiddles, and in the center of it all was a King and a Queen. Your great-great-great grandpa got on his knees by the throne and said, “Oh, lordy, great King and grand Queen, give me a favor so I can save my family from starvation!” The shining Queen touched her King’s hand, and the King smiled. “Good man, I will grant your request. Our favor you will have, and your wife will have two sons. The first will be mine, the second yours. That second son will have two sons of his own, and the first will be mine, the second his. That second son will have two sons of his own. The first will be mine, the second his. And so long as there are two sons, one come to the hills and one for the sun, your family shall have our favors.”

And then Grandma shut her eyes and two thin tears pushed out through all the wrinkles.


Dinner was quick. Mostly because every time I opened my mouth other than to put food in, I said shitty things like, “Do you remember the last time you ate with your older brother, Dad?” Which only incited him to reply, “If you’d like the rest of your meal at all, cut it out.”

“Sure, Mom went to a lot of trouble to create this special memory. For you.”

“For us,” Mom said, her mouth tight.

I tried to reign it in. Thought about that last horrible thing I said to Jonas, and knew I was really just pissed at myself.

Ellis scraped his fork over his plate. He hadn’t eaten anything, but just pushed the carrots and beef to the edge, so the center was a big empty eye. I stood up and leaned over the table, pressing my hands down next to the salt and pepper. “This isn’t your fault, Ellis,” I said fiercely.

His shoulders hunched a little, and Mom and Dad watched me. Both with expressions I’d never seen before. And didn’t want to interpret. Lifting my chin, I said, “I’m done. Goodnight.”

Dad opened his mouth and Mom put out her palm to stop him. Her voice was quiet, and just a little bit desperate. “I don’t believe it, Jack. And at breakfast tomorrow, you’ll both see.”


I flung myself on my bed, stared at the ceiling, and wished I’d said, The problem, Mom, is I believe it.

It was the dreams that convinced me. After years of ignoring that weird afternoon with Grandma, three months ago I’d had the first one: It was me, laying in some tall grass while a little woman with a green cap cut my eyes out of my head.

And another a couple days later: The same woman standing on a stool in my kitchen, frying my tongue up with salt and pepper. I’d stood behind her, working my empty mouth open and shut, until she turned around and smiled a razor-sharp smile. “Shall make a fine gravy, Jacky-boyo.”

A third exactly thirty nights before my birthday: I opened my window into a red and purple world, and she hunched over flowers in the window-box. When I frowned, she pushed aside her brown hair and showed me the bones she was planting. It was all my first knuckles from my bleeding left hand.

On and on they went, making me cranky and irritable and turning my batting average to shit.

I stared at the ceiling harder, like it might save me, and thought about calling Jonas.

I’d tell him everything: why I’d been avoiding him. Why it wasn’t his fault. Why I wouldn’t be around for all his crazy prom-crashing schemes. Out of everybody, he deserved an explanation most.

But I didn’t. Better for him to think I just disappeared. Or died. Or whatever they’ll say about me tomorrow morning.


She climbed over my window sill just after midnight. The little woman from my dreams, her dark hair slinking after her. She stood and smiled, her luminous face filling my room, and beckoned to me with a slim hand.

“Why should I go?” I said. They had to have a reason. A threat to my family, a promise. There was no other way I’d get on my feet.

“You’ll come and you’ll bargain with my King, or I’ll cut your eyes out where you lay, feed your tongue to my hounds, and take your fingers to scatter in the garden.”

Simple as that. Just the truth.

I stood and she curled her hand around my first finger. Her skin was cool and soft as she pulled me to the window. I said, “I can’t go that way. What’s wrong with the stairs?”

A sly smile revealed three tiny sharp teeth. “Your father sleeps against your bedroom door.”


Enough of me knew this had to be a dream, all of it. The easy descent from the second story, the walk across the backyard, the shadows from the trees spreading together until we were surrounded by black dark enough to be a cave.

The little woman’s hand tugged constantly on mine, and her short legs had no trouble pulling me faster and faster. The ends of her hair wrapped around my wrist, tickling and warm. Even if I let go, she’d have me.

The darkness pressed so near, I closed my eyes and it made no difference. The earth was soft under my shoes, until the little woman said, “Step down, boyo,” and I did, onto stone.

I smelled wet rocks and sudden fire, and looked to see a tunnel leading deep and down. Torches burned silver, catching the wink of gems that peered out of the walls. She pulled, and I went. Down and around, into air that grew warmer and full of whispers.

The stairs ended at doors carved into the stone itself. The little woman touched her fingers to them, and they swung silently open. We entered into a huge room, enough for a football field or maybe a 747. The walls dripped silver water, and silver lights bobbed against the vaulted ceiling. Silver ribbons and silver curtains – everything here was monotone.

Except the people.

Tall and small, men and women and neither, they stood along the edges in vibrant dresses and sunset-colored suits, their hair all the colors of nature, and their eyes round and wide.

And staring at me.

I stared right back at the crooked noses and perfect chins, the gnarled green hands, the hunched backs, the beautiful lips, the tusks and horns and ears like dogs’. I thought, Jonas should be here, he should see this, and I imagined the hard lines of ink at the edges of all his notebooks, sketching skulls and thorns and sometimes eyes I was pretty sure were mine.

The little woman ignored it all, dragging me forward to the thrones. Just like in my Grandma’s story, a great King and a grand Queen sat, both more perfect than anything I’d seen – so perfect they almost disappeared.

The King lifted a hand and my little woman stopped. “Here is the one for the hills,” she said, and the King said, “Jack.”

I didn’t say a word. My hands curled into fists, but that’s it.

“Jack,” he said again, his voice lifting over the surge of whispers.

“That’s my name,” I said. It wasn’t anything they didn’t know.

The King smiled, I thought, though couldn’t be sure through all the shine of silver. “You’re the first son, and meant for these hills.”

“I don’t want to stay.”

“Of course not. You never do.”

“I have a life. I have…” I shrugged that same stiff shrug. It wasn’t his business what I had.

The Queen rose to her feet and spread her hands. “We are merciful.”

The King said, “We will offer you one chance. The same chance we offered your father’s brother, and his father’s brother, and his, and his, and each since the first first son.”

In a dream like this, the only thing to do was to agree. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t just wake up. What other choice did I have? I nodded.

“Say it.” The King definitely smiled then, and it darkened the shine.

“One chance,” I said. “Ok.”

The whispers erupted into laughter and cheering. Some sounded like growls, and others like barking. I curled my hands tighter and stood there. Waited.

“We will guess three times,” the King said, “why you cannot stay with us. Each time, you must answer truthfully if we are correct. Only truth can survive in the hills, Jack. If we do not guess, you will be free.”

The problem now was that I didn’t know why I couldn’t stay. The silver shine ate at my peripheral vision, narrowing it onto the King and the Queen, and I had no idea why I wasn’t just walking over to them and giving myself up. My knees shook, and it would feel so good to get down on them, to kneel and stay.

“Do you agree, Jack Piercy?”

I scrubbed at my eyes and said, “Yes.”

The King said, “I know why you wish to leave us, Jack.”

“Why?” I asked, thinking about Jonas again. About the first time he sat down too close to me at the cafeteria table last semester. This new guy who was all lanky arms and narrow nose. “I hear ya’ll are the baseball team,” he said, his elbow touching mine as he leaned in. “At least, the ones on the team who matter.”

“That’s for sure,” Adam, our catcher, said, eyes narrowed at Jonas’s obvious attack on my personal space.

I put down my soda and asked him if he was trying to eat my lunch with his elbow.

Jonas snapped his head around to me, and paused for just-too-long, before a grin stretched his face and he announced, “Your lunch isn’t what I’d like to eat” and I sat there inches away, dumb and blushing and wondering how he had known.

The team shrieked with laughter, grossed out and totally freaking delighted. Adam punched me in the shoulder and Liam said, “Dude, what position do you play?” meaning baseball, but Jonas gave him a long laugh before admitting he’d always been good at second base.

The King of the hill interrupted to offer me his first guess. “Because you can’t leave your family.”

I remembered three weeks ago when Jonas jogged out to me in the batter’s box. I swung and he turned his baseball cap around backwards. “You got a date for prom?”

Shifting my back foot, I slowly brought the bat over my shoulder again. “Not the kind I’m looking for,” I said, giving him back a little of his own.

He smiled his usual crafty smile. “Isn’t that interesting.”

I swung again, and it was wobbly. My balance was off. I shoved the end of the bat into the dust and Jonas walked on past me like he’d never meant to pause, and at just the last moment shifted so his shoulder bumped into mine. I couldn’t hit anything the rest of the day.

To the King I said, “No. It isn’t my family.”

He took one step down from the silver dais. His eyes were like mirrors as he said, “Because you have a dream of success.”

What I wanted to say was I have dreams of little fairy women who cut out my tongue on my eighteenth birthday, but instead thought of what Jonas had said just that afternoon, when he caught my hand before I slammed out of the locker room. He pulled me back in and said, “I have something for you, Jack.”

“You… what?” I didn’t understand because my eyes were tired and my head ached and I’d failed a quiz in chemistry because I couldn’t think past the drops of blood in my dream the night before. I couldn’t think past it being my birthday, my last day, and that I was spending it doing what I always did: ignoring the drones of my teachers, sweating in a field, pulling clothes out of a locker that smelled like mildew, trying hard not to think about a certain guy’s hands and the triumphant crow when he caught some poor teammate who’d tried to steal second.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” he said, and he still had my hand. Or my first two fingers at least, loosely held in his.


“Well, congratulations,” Jonas mock-grimaced. “You can officially help vote our country further into debt.”

I was concerned that I hadn’t taken my hand away from him yet, and looked down at our fingers.

“Here,” he said, tugging a prom ticket out of his sleeve. “Let’s crash. It’ll be brilliant.”

“I can’t,” I said, like always, and tugged away.

“Jesus, Jack, why the hell not?” Jonas banged his hand into the lockers. The crash filled the room. “Everybody knows about you – about us. That there should be an us.”

I shook my head.

“Adam’s been running a pool for weeks – do you know how much money he’s made on you being such a coward? Makes me want to tear my damn hair out!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, knowing in a few hours my family curse would take care of it – almost hoping it would.

“It matters to me.” Jonas stepped into my space, so close I had to hold totally still or we’d be together.

When I closed my eyes I saw the little woman, saw my tongue in her frying pan. I wanted to say yes, I wanted to move just enough that some part of me touched some part of Jonas. To buy a damn tux and screw what Dad said. To be myself.

But the curse. I couldn’t give Jonas anything, if it was all going to be over tomorrow.

“I don’t care,” I said, backing away. I picked up my bag and jerked open the locker room door. And Jonas said, “You’re so full of shit, Jack.”

In the cavern, the King waited for my answer, and his Queen put a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” I said, “it isn’t because I want success.”

They both smiled, and through the film of silver, I saw all the creatures smile. Moving in, step by step, pressing nearer to me, eager and ready to make me one of them.

The King said, “Truths, both of them. But here, here is the final guess from me, the guess that will bind you here. I can read it in your heart, as I read it in the hearts of your ancestors.”

I held my breath.

The King said, “You cannot stay with us, because there is a girl you haven’t yet kissed.”

Everything froze in one shocked moment and I laughed.

I laughed so hard it filled the room, drowning out the whispers and all the new frowns. I tilted my head back and laughed at the silver firelight dancing on the ceiling. “No!” I yelled. “That is not why I cannot stay!”


I sat up in my own backyard, laughter wedged in my chest.

The grass was cold and damp on my hands, soaking into my tee-shirt. Under me, the world turned, and over me, there was light in the sky.

I scrambled to my feet, swayed with dizziness. If it was dawn, I had time. Running around the side of the house, I unlocked my bike from the fence and jumped on. I careened down the grassy hill to the road, and broke onto asphalt with a thud. This early there weren’t many cars in the neighborhood. I pedaled hard, gasping for breath and cold because my shirt was wet and the wind gusted against me.

When I wheeled into Jonas’s yard, I dropped the bike with a jangle of metal, and thumped up his porch steps. Lights were on in the kitchen and upstairs. I knocked. As quickly and calmly as I could – I wanted to pound it down, to yell for him.

His mom opened the door, dressed for work with a towel hastily caught in her hands. “Jack?” she said.

“Is Jonas up? Is he here? Can he – ”

And Jonas charged over, pushed through his mom. “What are you doing?” he scowled, still half-sleeping, in sweats and a tee shirt. I lost all ability to talk. Like my tongue had been cut out.

He said, “Sorry, Mom, it’s fine,” and came onto the porch, pulling the front door firmly shut. “What the hell, man?” he said to me.

I closed the distance, and opened my mouth. Said nothing.

“What’s wrong with your eyes? Are you high?” Jonas grabbed my face, and before he could say anything else I touched his waist and twisted his tee shirt in my hands.

I kissed him.

And Jonas kissed me back.

image by salvez, flickr creative commons

133 thoughts on “Three True Things

  1. OMG, you wrote a story with a happy ending!! I think I am going to die from shock!

    BUT, it was an absolutely fabulous story. I love it so much.

  2. I’m on my lunch break, and totally yelled “Ahahaha, SUCKERS!” at the screen. Office!mate is terribly confused, and my explaining it isn’t helping, for some reason…

  3. OH Awesome! Love, love, love it!

    And yes, I’m a sucker for happy endings, but the way he did it, to finally face up to his own truth and act on it is just…awesome isn’t a good enough word.

  4. You should be proud of yourself, Tessa. You made me give a giddy sigh at the end and now I’m grinning like a loon.

    That was just splendid.

  5. D’awwwww. I love it. Especially that he laughed at the fairies. They won’t forget that.

  6. Excellent, and thank you! I think I usually am not the one to bring out the sighs and grins. Hee hee. πŸ˜€

  7. Yeah… hopefully they’ll swallow their defeat and not look for revenge. Hopefully hehehe. πŸ˜€

  8. OMG!! I love it!!! Yes, best fairy escape EVER!!!!
    and I love a happy end more than anything, lol!

  9. I was pretty sure I knew where the question would go wrong as soon as the King proposed the challenge.

    However, I still wanted to laugh with Jack when the King asked the question. It *was* funny. I didn’t laugh, but I did cheer inside, and I thank you for lightening up my day.

    One small critique: “and before he could say anything else I touched his waist and twisted his tee shirt in my hands.” Presumably he’s doing both actions at once, which is impossible if you assume he’s touching Jonas’ waist with one hand and grabbing the shirt in two, including the one he’s touching Jonas’ waist with.

  10. You made me make a SOUND here at my desk. My heart got all squeezy with gladness at the VICTORY of that moment on so many levels. YAY. I must use all caps more often.

  11. I teared up a little at the end. So much unexpected happy!

    And I love that merely by being who he is, he has ended their tithe obligations, but the fairies can’t take away their blessing on the family because no one broke the rules. At least I assume that’s the case.

  12. I have been longing for this sweet m/m faery story since you mentioned it to me. I love it, both for the content and for the writing. As always, your attention to the small details and nuances of interaction, like the subtle bumping of shoulders or the tugging and twisting of the t-shirt, are what puts it over the top into perfecto land. I also love that you depicted the other members of the baseball team as being supportive in that way that sports guys would be — by placing bets on things. Thank you for this. πŸ™‚

  13. Fairies can sometimes be predictable in their trickiness! Glad you enjoyed.

    He’s grabbing the tee shirt AT Jonas’s waist. Sorry you were confused!

  14. Hahaha YES! I love it when readers talk to their computers. Or beep or cry or whatever sort of sound you made. Hee hee.

    ps. your icon is adorable.

  15. I imagine the fairies will do what they can to not give them favors anymore, since they don’t have the oldest son under the hill. But still, most families manage without fairy favors – they’ll be ok! πŸ˜€


  16. I was mostly just glad that I managed to think of one that didn’t feel forced. It’s nice when I have a sort-of-prompt a few weeks in advance so my imagination can chew for a while.

    Thank you! I think stories should always be grounded in the little, real details. ❀

  17. *SWOON*

    Also, SQUEE!


    *runs off to print a copy of this story for my Tessa Gratton collection (you know I have one)*

  18. “I was mostly just glad that I managed to think of one that didn’t feel forced.”

    Not forced feeling at all but just right. πŸ˜€

  19. Hee hee, yes I know you do!

    Brenna and I were chatting the other day about the lack of boy/boy or girl/girl kissing in MF stories – each of us could only think of one or two in all 70-some stories. This was my beginning to make it a better percentage!


  20. I have been utterly floored by this piece.

    So awesome, I don’t even know. *opens and closes mouth silently*

    I am inwardly squealing from delight. XD

  21. Thank you! I’m so glad – I spent the most time with the weaving, trying to make it smooth and seamless and… not confusing. Without italics. I usually resort to italics or *** a lot more. So yay! πŸ˜€

  22. Thanks for the clarification!

    Fairies can sometimes be predictable in their trickiness! Glad you enjoyed.
    See, I’ve always thought of fairies as fairly unpredictable by human standards. I think the predictable factor came from me picking up on little cues I’ve learned over three years of beta-reading for people in my writing group. I notice a LOT these days, which frequently ruins endings for me, although I think it’s just as much fun that way. πŸ˜›

    ETA: Also, I am HIGHLY amused by your icon. Gaston. XD

  23. Oh my gosh, it’s got a happy ending!! No way!!! πŸ˜€

    I DID laugh with Jack at the end because I KNEW, I had this feeling in my gut, that that was going to be the King’s last guess and I bet he felt like an absolute FOOL when he guessed wrong and was forced to let Jack live. If only we could have seen the looks on his parents’ faces when they wake up and find him alive. πŸ™‚

    This was absolutely wonderful and I can’t wait till next week!! πŸ˜€

  24. I really like this–brilliant economy of character arc/plot really made it feel as complete as a much longer story, and just the ending I was rooting for. Actually, when I started reading it I expected a short & creepy cliffhanger with him being kidnapped, so I kept being pleasantly surprised as it kept going.

  25. Absolutely wonderful story!!!! Thank you so much for sharing it!
    I called my roomate over and had her read it! I’m trying to figure out how to share it with people who don’t have LJ!

  26. This had me grinning so hard that it hurt πŸ˜€

    Thank you for making my Tuesday one hell of a lot better!

  27. I DO have it in me! πŸ˜‰

    Thank you – and yeah, I’m sure the King won’t be getting over this anytime soon. Hee hee.

  28. that I want to kiss it on the mouth. (Except, perhaps, it wouldn’t want to kiss me.)

    Seriously, this story is IMPORTANT. It’s something altogether different and I thank you for it.

  29. I’m so glad. I kept staring at it thinking I needed about 1500 more words, which is a no-no for this space. So super happy the cutting and tightening worked for you! πŸ˜€

  30. LOL that’s a new one – causing readers pain from smiling too hard. Hee hee.

    Glad you enjoyed! πŸ˜€

  31. I really like the story and the idea of the bitter bargain and growing up knowing about it.
    Also, very amusing twist for his escape.

  32. I also wanted to add now that the initial glee has worn off, that I think my favourite part of the whole thing (um, besides the part where he laughs at the faerie king), is how his father sleeps up against his door. Because he’s EIGHTEEN. And they DON”T BELIEVE IN CURSES. Except they really, really do.

  33. AH! I wish I’d titled the story “Bitter Bargain”! That’s great!

    And thanks. πŸ˜€

  34. Win. Win. Win.


    I’m reading in a lecture. Trying not to grin like a fool. πŸ˜‰

  35. This story made me cry happy tears, as opposed to the tears of terror you usually bring about.

    Very awesome.

  36. It’s so true!
    I’ve re-read this a bazillion times now and sent folk over from my LJ and facebook. Totally love it!

  37. I LOVE this story. It has fairies, and romance, and people breaking free. So, that’s pretty much everything I want. It even has a few gory descriptions!

    My favorite part? I love that the rest of the baseball team was so okay about it. It’s so much more realistic than books where everyone freaks out and the boys are treated terribly. That definitely happens, and it needs to be noticed, but most of the time people surprise you. My sister came out in high school, in our tiny Mormon town. Everyone was great about it. There were a few haters, but people mostly thought she was brave.

  38. This was a sweet love story and a unique faerie tale! I was afraid the king was going to guess the real reason in the end, and was pleasantly surprised. I also love this line, describing the king and queen: “more perfect than anything I’d seen – so perfect they almost disappeared.” It makes perfect sense – something so perfect, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen, and so you literally can barely see it.

    Bravo! πŸ™‚

  39. Hee! Sometimes describing awesome (literally) faeries quickly is a pain, so I’m glad you liked what I came up with. πŸ˜€


  40. I’m grinning with everyone else. My heart ached when the little fairy said that his father was sleeping against the door..that’s exactly what I would have done to try and save my son. And I loved your description of the underground fairies “Tall and small, men and women and neither” the neither part made me pause and smile. I bet they are so beautiful that it would be hard to tell which gender they were. I have to tell you after the little brother’s shoulders fell, I started to care about this story and started a little chant. This story won’t have closure, it won’t have closure but it did! and even better it was a happy one. I know they can’t all be but thanks for this one. Super sweet and tender!

  41. LOVED this. So much characterisation & story considering its length, I’m awed. And the DETAILS: the dad sleeping outside his door, the little brother not eating, the palpably physical bike ride at the end … It was so easy to slip into the story’s world.

  42. Thank you – that’s one thing we’ve tried to learn here in MF: characterization in as small a space as possible. So glad you enjoyed it. πŸ˜€

  43. Aw damn, this is adorable πŸ™‚ I’d love to know what’s wrong with Jack’s eyes at the end though. Is he just a little spun out or have they left their mark on him somehow?

  44. this is lovely. i was so worried you were going to give it a bad ending. but it was excellent

  45. That last guess had me laughing myself into tears. This is beautiful romance. Seriously.

  46. I absolutely love this. Though honestly I find myself thinking that with every story posted here, this time I might quite the fool of myself by cheering rather loudly in the coffee shop when I read the ending. So bravo, for your clearly epic story writing. Gosh, now I am all just smiles and happiness. Excellent, You’ve brightened my day so thank you. I loved your attention to detail by the way. Keep up the great work. ^__^

  47. Agreed, it does make perfect sense. Gosh its those little details that make these stories so great.

  48. Thank you! I’m glad to hear it – I’m not sure I’ve been in somebody’s LJ memories before! πŸ˜€

  49. So, um, I’m totally late on this (sorry) but I just found this community and I loveloveloveloveLOVE this story! Real bad! Where I live, something like half the population is homophobic, so this was amazingly refreshing.

    And so I just had to express my adoration of this story.
    Thank you.

  50. No worries about lateness! The stories are here as long as we are, so any time your readership is more than welcome. πŸ™‚

    I’m glad you liked the story – I didn’t want it to be about homophobia, which although important (obviously, when there are so many places like where you life), it isn’t always the *most* important.

    Thank you!

  51. Yeah, it just seems like I never get to see gays or lesbians in a positive light. Again, loved the story!

  52. This is absolutely fantastic. One of, if not my favorite story written by Merry Sisters of Fate. I loved the characters, but most of all I loved the ending;)

  53. Yay! Thanks for commenting – we love conversations with our readers. So glad you enjoyed the story. πŸ˜€

  54. When I read this the first time I was like What? Ah! Hehe. When I read this the second time was like GrinGrinGrinGrin. Chortle.

  55. I love this story. I love how they assume it’s a girl. And why would they? I boy doesn’t have to love a girl. And I really love ” To buy a damn tux and screw what Dad said. To be myself” cuz that’s it. We need to be ourselves with out being afriad

  56. A lovely story! A great piece of work! I like the “To buy a damn tux & screw what Dad said. To be myself.” Do write more. πŸ˜‰

    p/s: My very first comment here. πŸ˜›

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