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Andrew stood before the wildwood tree, its hungry gaze watching as the boy aimed the boxcutter toward his chest. He could feel the forest within him calling to the blade, leaning in to fulfill the forest’s hunger. Andrew couldn’t even feel the blade prick his skin, the sensation of slick blood and clumped mud on his fingers the only proof of his act.
Before he could push the blade further to wrench out his rotten heart, a heavy force crashed into his side and toppled him to the ground. Through the rose petals in his eyes Andrew saw Thomas looming over him, his tears slowly dropping onto the slick skin of the pinned boy’s cheeks. Andrew realized multiple things at once: the boxcutter was no longer in his hand, his wrists were pinned to the mossy forest floor, and Thomas was saying something. The foggy static cleared from his bloody ears as he deciphered Thomas’s cries.
“Stop. Please just stop. Don’t do this, don’t leave me,” Thomas’s voice shook, breaking with emotion and conviction. His grip loosened on Andrew’s wrists, ever gentle.
A piece of Andrew’s heart cracked. He couldn’t understand how that was possible if the forest had consumed his entire insides… hadn’t it? How could something rotten and festered break and chip like a piece of glass?
“I have to. I have to protect you,” Andrew’s words were meant to be a comfort but his tone fell flat with acceptance to their fate. A muddy tear slipped down the side of his face as Thomas shook his head in refusal. Before he could speak, Andrew cut in, “I’m the prince in the story. The monsters won’t stop if I don’t give the forest my heart.”
Thomas used his body to pin Andrew further on the mossy dirt. How could he feel the warmth of Thomas and the cold of the ground when just moments ago he couldn’t feel a blade? With Thomas’s worried gaze and tender grip on his wrists it was as though a flame was lit anew, making the forest retreat from his body and back to the dirt.
“You write the stories. You are the prince and the poet, Andrew. Change the story.”
His words were lovely to hear, a comfort that made his heart wilt. Andrew didn’t realize when he had stopped struggling against Thomas, if he had ever struggled to begin with. The rose petals retreated from his eyes as the boys stared at each other. Andrew wanted so badly for Thomas to be right, for the story to be redirected. But the monsters were already here, they were already waiting in the brush with their yellow eyes locked on the boys tangled on the forest floor.
“It’s too late. The-the vines...” Andrew trailed off with a nod toward his abdomen. He had been so fearful of Thomas seeing the mess of his body, the vines writhing under too-thin skin. Now it was too late, Thomas had already seen the forest push out from within him. Andrew just needed to prove that he was too far gone to be saved.
His shirt was already undone and bloody. Thomas merely lifted his chest off Andrew’s and peered down. He hesitated before letting go of one of Andrew’s wrists, the one closest to the boxcutter. Despite turning his head away, Andrew felt a warm hand brush his shirt aside and glide along his skin. Thomas’s explorative touches sent a chill down his spine, warm flesh against the cold of October night. The moment stretched on too long and Andrew chanced a glance down. His torso was no longer a mess of vines and thorns entwined with bone under pale flesh. His body was still thin and frail, but it was his again. His breath shuddered as Thomas lifted his eyes but didn’t move his hand.
“It’s not too late. We can find another way to sate the forest,” He told Andrew softly, hope warming his gaze. “It doesn’t have to be your heart…” Thomas trailed off, lifting his hand to guide Andrew’s free one. “I told you I would die for you and I meant it,” Thomas’s heart beat steady and sure under Andrew’s palm.
Horror contorted Andrew’s face, the response leaving his lips breathlessly, “No. Don’t suggest that-“
The sound of cocky chuckles and sticks breaking made the boys hesitate. Thomas looked up and quickly rolled off Andrew, who righted himself as Bryce’s vultures stepped from the woods. The monsters slunk back into the shadows to watch the cruelty as the boys both rose to their feet.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Tommy and his girlfriend!” One of the vultures piped up as the other boys stepped into the moonlit opening. “Sneaking from the dance to get some in the woods?” Another boy called, earning a chuckle from the other vultures. “Where’s Bryce, freaks?”
Thomas tensed as he stood in front of Andrew, naturally defensive. His face was cold as Andrew withered behind him. “Get lost,” Thomas called sternly, making the vultures laugh more. Andrew couldn’t handle the rapid evolvement of the situation. Minutes ago, he was ready to cut out his own heart. Moments ago, Thomas was straddling him, touching him. It was all too much.
The vultures fanned out around the boys, three against two. Andrew eyed the box cutter on the ground as the tension grew while the other boys exchanged insults with Thomas. Instinct lead Andrew to pick up the boxcutter before he could fully process his actions. As he scrambled to grab the weapon, the vultures closed in and Thomas threw the first punch. His axe is abandoned off to the side as two of the vultures began pelting on the boy who could barely keep up. Andrew took advantage of the distraction and suddenly stabbed the fourth vulture before he too could attack Thomas.
The movement was clumsy and uncertain as Andrew always was. The vulture landed a blow on Andrew’s cheek before he realized the damage that’d been done. Andrew was expecting another blow as he looked down at his shaking hand and noticed the blood. He had in fact managed to strike the boy with the boxcutter, a sloppy gash flowing crimson from the vulture’s neck as he lay in the dirt.
Andrew felt frozen in time as he stared down at what he’d done, the vulture convulsing on the floor as he choked on his own blood. Only the sound of Thomas’s grunts snapped him out of the trance. Andrew twisted and threw himself into the fray, adrenaline pumping blood noisily in his ears. He had the distant thought that this was a good thing, that he still had blood despite the forest taking over his insides.
Thomas was taking a beating as he lay in the dirt, three vultures taunting him as they kicked. They were too distracted and didn’t notice Andrew’s approach. But Thomas did. Thomas’s eyes were always able to find Andrew in an instant, and this moment was no different. After a glance at his world reduced to an exhausted body on the floor, Andrew was invigorated with a calm rage.
This was right. This would save the boy he loved. Their blood would finally quench the thirst of the monsters in the shadows. A soft grunt of effort escaped his lips as Andrew drove the boxcutter into another boy’s throat. Despite his shaking hands, the vultures didn’t have time to react before Andrew cut them. They backed away from Thomas’s bruised form, trying to hold the viscera within their bodies. Their hands were quickly soaked with slick blood as they fell one by one, but none of that mattered to Andrew.
He knelt down and cupped Thomas’s face in his hands as the boy sat up. Thomas looked at Andrew with devotion and worry, not a trace of fear in his features. They had always known what the other was capable of, what beautiful and horrific creatures they truly were. Thomas was breathing hard as Andrew held him steady, blood from his fingers sliding along the boy’s neck.
“You’re okay?” Andrew asked evenly as Thomas leaned in with his eyes shut. Thomas’s hands cupped Andrew’s as he pressed their foreheads together.
“We’re both okay,” Thomas answered gently as the vultures lay dying around them.
The silence became quite loud as the vultures stopped choking on their own blood. Movement in the woods broke the pair apart as they helped each other stand. Andrew could feel eyes on them as he looked at what he’d done. Thomas squeezed his hand, forcing the boy to meet his eyes.
Andrew frowned and tried to pry his hand free, “The monsters are still hungry. I have to-“
“Their hearts,” Thomas replied instantly as he searched Andrew’s eyes. “Four hearts instead of one. It has to be enough. It has to.”
Thomas spoke with such conviction that Andrew didn’t argue. He’d try anything to stay with the boy he loved. Thomas picked up his axe as Andrew made quick work with the box cutter. He found it took much more effort to cut out the human hearts compared to when he tried to remove his own. The forest was silent with watchful eyes as the boys exposed the vultures’ viscera.
Andrew began digging through the dirt as the monsters watched. He tried to ignore the squelching of the vultures’ bodies as Thomas collected the remaining hearts. His own heart was racing as mud clotted under his nails, the cold wet soil easy to move. With trembling hands he dropped the first two hearts into the hole, staring numbly at the deflated organs.
Thomas approached slowly and dropped his axe aside with a thud. He got on his knees beside Andrew, panting. He placed the remaining hearts in the hole at the base of the wildwood tree. They looked at each other for a long moment as monsters shuffled through the shadows at their backs.
With a curt nod, Thomas pushed the piled dirt on top of the hearts. He pressed the dirt down, compacting it around the organs with vigor. He was thorough in his work, taking minutes to cover the gore. Their hands were a mess of blood and mud. Andrew was muttering pleas beside him, begging the forest to accept their offering.
After a few minutes, Thomas placed his dirty hands over Andrew’s, “Listen. Do you hear that?”
Andrew met Thomas’s eyes and focused on the noises around them. Branches swaying, leaves rustling in the trees, the quiet whisper of the wind, the chirping of crickets.
His eyes widened as he gripped Thomas’s hands, “The monsters… I don’t hear them. I-I don’t even feel them anymore.” His voice was a soft murmur of disbelief; afraid the truth would dissipate as soon as it was spoken.
Thomas’s laugh began soft but soon lifted in volume and relief, curling a smile on Andrew’s lips. Their fingers locked as Thomas made a celebratory cheer, only for Andrew to reprimand him with a gentle nudge.
“Quiet! We may not have to worry about the monsters, but we still committed a serious crime,” Andrew’s smile was falling now as the flood of relief shifted to anxiety.
“That will be light work compared to the forest,” Thomas assured him, rejoining their hands with a gentle smile on his lips. “I was worried I would lose you.”
“Let’s get this cleaned up, yeah? Then we can figure out how to explain ourselves.”
Andrew was still taken off guard by Thomas’s brazen words of affection. His mind was a hellscape trying to map the realities of the world without Dove in it. They decided to move the bodies further into the woods before burying them, covering the tracks on their walk back. Andrew was doing just that as he heard whispers from the shadows. A shudder ran down his spine as he heard the sickly voice of the Antler King.
We are satisfied for now, but you know the sacrifice we truly crave. We’ll be back for you, prince.