It's a strange sensation, Ryder realizes, to feel so deeply intertwined with someone that's barely known to him. Whose story went from being a mention in his own, to a full blown chapter. Then somehow worming themselves into every thought he's ever had, every word he's ever whispered.

It's a strange sensation. To physically hold onto something that makes him feel so calm yet so sick. But it's unknown whether that sickness is from a hate bred deep within his blood, or the uncertainty of loving something so wildly new to his world.

It's a thought that passes through Ryder each morning he wakes with Wren in his arms. Pulling him a bit tighter into his chest with each passing sunrise.

"Wren." He whispers against the strawberry curls of the other boy, hair lightening each day under the stress of Haven. Wren merely nuzzling his head into Ryder's outstretched palm next to his bright red cheeks. Every morning is a toss up of whether he will be void of any hue or filled with color, today luckily being one of the latter.

The body cracks open with a yawn, a slight pop audible from somewhere on his body. "I'm awake...don't worry." He adds in the last part as more of an afterthought, pressing into the outstretched palm just a little harder as if to really get his point across.

With this, Ryder sits up in the swirl of blankets strewn against the floor. The bed still covered in vomit and Wren preferring the floor left him no choice but to lay against the tile, his back cracking as he raises up with a groan.

"It's a Wednesday today, so no one will be checking in on you for a while."

"Mhm?" Wren mumbles, eyes still shut as his legs curl into his chest.

"So I was wondering if maybe you could tell me some more about you and your people and where you're from?" It comes out more rushed than necessary, Ryder's face contorting for a brief moment before regaining himself. His hand falling against the other's hip as he attempts to roll him over.

"I just think I should know some about where you came from. We are good friends after all."

Good friends. It's a bit of an understatement. At this point just the thought of Wren has his chest aching with worry, and he can't remember the last time that he slept in a bed rather than curled into Wren's drug filled body on the floor.

It's been less than a month, Ryder.. he thinks to himself, hands pulling down at his face in a poor attempt to clear his thoughts, to distinguish his childish attachments to Wren from the reality that they barely know one another. That he doesn't even know what species Wren is.

Yet there's this undeniable pull to that red headed boy that has his mind clouded with doubt and anxiety. This instant infatuation and near obsession with anything about him. It started off as just wanting a connection to someone who might be like him.

Yet it quickly escalated to childhood stories and late night lessons, usually on what his dreams truly mean. How to control them, how to make them pinpoint events more specifically, how to tell the future better.

He had never had anyone to share his 'gift' with until Wren arrived. That has to be why he feels so attached? Right?

"Ryder." Wren snaps his fingers, the sound shocking Ryder from his thoughts. "What were you wanting to say to me?"

"What are you?" It's a question thrown with too much force, Ryder drawing back from the impact of it though it's too late. The words digging into every corner of the room and uprooting what little peace they had had that morning. Wren looks over shocked, though the expression is quickly shaken away with a smile as his body turns around in the makeshift bed to face Ryder.

"I'm a fae if you really want to know."

"Fae?"

"Like fairy?" Wren snickers, groggily rubbing his eyes as if the statement meant nothing, though it leaves Ryder in dumbfounded silence. He just nonchalantly turns his head to examine Ryder before turning it back and repeating.

"So like is that it...or are there types...?" Ryder doesn't know where to step, each word feeling as if it could be a potential land mine.

Yet Wren, Wren just flashes his lilac eyes and his rare smile before sitting up, placing his head on Ryder's shoulder too briefly before lifting it with a tired gleam in his eye. His hand reaches for his left arm, absent mindedly rubbing his needle pricks and bruises before answering.

"Um.." he draws, hunting for the right words to say. "well there are different types of fae, well only three, um." He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I'm considered to be a blood fae." His fingers have balled into fists around the light blankets around the two of them. Ryder's finger swipes against Wren's as if in solidarity of his reveal, the words meaning nothing to Ryder and yet everything to Wren.

"What does a blood fae mean exactly?"

"It means that out of the three magics: white, dark, and blood. I know blood magic. I can control people like puppets or kill them instantly. Lucky for the humans you all have invented something that makes those things not possible."

So that's what happened to December's hand in the interrogation room. "But what if you didn't have the blockers in you?"

There's a pause as Wren considers the possibility, his eyes staring dead forward, unwavering as his face is stone cold and emotionless. His body slumps forward onto his spread out knees as he draws a deep breath before turning to Ryder. "I would kill them all."

"I want to start taking your blockers for you."

It's enough to snap Wren out of his state, body flinging wildly as his neck madly breaks to turn to the boy beside him, fingers gripping his arms until they leave behind a red mark on his flesh. "I'm not letting you do that!"

"I see you every morning and you're fine who is to say that I won't be too? Besides, I don't have as much magic in me as you do! I can only use my powers when I'm sleeping and if it gets us out of here it's worth it! I can convince them to let me administer them and I'll give your dose to myself so that you can get stronger and-"

"Are you crazy?" Wren cuts in, fingers gripping onto Ryder's flesh until he has the boy wincing in pain. "I'm not risking your life-"

"I will be fine the pain is-"

"Excruciating." Wren growls through clenched teeth. His knuckles white from how tightly they've clinged to the blankets between the two in an attempt to spare Ryder's arm. "I'm not going to watch you go through that pain. We can find a different way."

"There isn't a different way. I'm taking your blockers for you."

With a stubborn huff Wren let's go of the blankets, one staggering breath after the other leaving him until he can speak without seeing red and tasting blood.

"They would never let you give me those. The boy in charge? With the dark hair? He visited me last night and threatened my life unless I told him what I was doing with you. No one trusts you with me, Ryder. The only way it would work- but even then-"

It's Ryder's turn to finally get a word in, fingers cautiously tip toeing themselves to Wren's balled fist and untangling them with care. He pulls the wrinkled blanket away from him and replaces the spot with a singular finger, waiting for Wren to grasp hold of that instead.

"I want to know." It comes out softer than intended, almost as if a defeated cry instead of a pleading statement.

"When you wake with me I can cover you with glamour. It's a fae magic that alters the view of those around us, and it's what I used to make myself appear more human in the cage. If I cover you in glamour then I can make the guard think that I'm alone and you can place your arm over mine. You'll be invisible basically, but the guard's eyes will tell him that he struck me. After a few days I should be strong enough to get us out of here and into the woods."

"Where do we go once we're in the woods? They're massive we could be flanked on all sides and never know it."

"I'm a fae," Wren chuckles to himself. "The woods will protect us basically." Glancing over at Ryder's confused expression he lets out a playfully annoyed sigh, rolling his head before explaining further.

"Fae are children of the Earth. If a fae is in the woods, then the woods will shift to conceal them. The woods will hide us so we can get through and will shift to lose anyone that might be following. Once we are in the woods though, we'll be in my territory."

He speaks it as if it's a threat, Ryder notices, his brow slightly cocking in confusion.

"And what exactly does 'your territory' mean?"

"It means that there are dangerous animals in the woods is all. But once we get through then we'll pass through the Magie and we'll be home."

Home. "Magie?"

Wren merely snickers. "You should get going. That's enough plotting and explaining for the day."

Ryder nods but doesn't move, every snippet of information acquired over the past 15 minutes racing through his mind in circles as he attempts to dissect what each means. Blood fae, Magie, dangerous creatures. It's all so foreign to him and yet it rolls off of Wren's tongue because it's his home, his history. A story that's been hidden away from humans for thousands of years only revealed by one natural phenomena. They live in two completely different worlds split by what? The woods?

"Actually it's split by magic."

Ryder's head snaps, eyes wide before his fingers are flying to his hair, grasping a tuft full and pulling to try and reveal the answer.

"Another sneaky fae secret." Wren chuckles. Genuinely chuckles. It's such an airy noise, one that mimics the rolling boil of water combined with the sharp strike of a wind chime. It's the first time Ryder has seen him as inhuman, the sound too strange to be that of Man. "I can read your mind. I can actually speak to you through it too but it's too invasive to not ask permission-"

Without hesitation Ryder is barking the order. "Do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Y-you just said that?" His fingers find their way to his hair once more. This time gingerly swiping across his temple and running to the back of his head as if trying to pinpoint exactly where he had heard the voice of the boy right in front of him. Wren's lips are unmoving as the sound of another chuckle makes its way into Ryder's head, his brow visible cocking in confusion at Wren's tricks.

"I can teach you how to speak back as well. It's a perk of you being a clairvoyant."

"I-yes-please-yes." The words flow so quickly it sounds as if it's one large word, Ryder springing to his feet in excitement as he eyes a smiling Wren sitting beneath him.

"Before you go, do you remember your dream?" Wren asks.

"No, actually, I don't. Does that mean something?" Ryder questions, surveying the bland white on white room for anything that he might have missed in his attempt to gather his belongings and remove any trace of him being there.

"It was a real dream instead of a vision is all. And Ryder?" Something in his voice has changed yet his face remains the same. Just an expressionless block of near porcelain hue, only his too rosy cheeks and green painted veins standing out against the canvas. "Will you be back by the time they give me the shots?"

Even though there's nothing to read, Ryder can somehow make out the hidden words locked deep behind those lilac pupils. A fear within them that burns long and slow, a fear that this plan is futile at its strongest. "I'm not going to leave you here, Wren."

"Promise?" He whispers.

"On my life."