The Elsewhere

Ronan gazed at the mirror of himself, reflected in the lake's calm surface. The Scottish highlands stretched out before him, untouched by time, yet he knew that the world beyond had shifted and marched on without him. He had been eighteen years old when he first stumbled into the caverns, curiosity pulling him too far, too deep. He was lost. Time had lost its meaning here in this Elsewhere, and though his body remained ever young, his soul felt weary with age.

The seasons shifted endlessly, though Ronan could not feel them. When snow fell, and the lake froze, he did not feel the cold. Nor could he feel the warmth of the summer sun. He could only watch the world, as if through glass.

As usual, the arrival of the carefree English schoolboys marked the beginning of summer. They would spend their days frolicking the lake, laughing and shouting without a care in the world. Summer boys, Ronan would call them. They shouted youth with every action, their spirits weightless with a carefree innocence. He had been a summer boy once, too. A lifetime ago, when the world was a blank canvas. But now, trapped in the Elsewhere, a voyeur looking on, he felt a certain bitterness towards their naivety.

He had seen countless summer boys come and go over the years, each group as boisterous and lively as the last. They would arrive with the warmth of June, their laughter filling the silence. And then, by August's end, they would vanish, returning to their lives beyond the lake, where Ronan could not follow. Ronan turned away from them, unable to bear the sight of their joy any longer. He retreated into the shadows of the caverns, seeking solace in the familiar darkness. The laughter of the summer boys faded behind him, swallowed by the eerie silence of the Elsewhere.

When he finally left the cave, his gaze fell upon a solitary figure. The boy sat hunched over against a large stone, his body trembling as he gasped for air. "Are you alright, lad?" Ronan asked softly, his voice barely audible above the boy's labored breathing. To Ronan's surprise, the boy's head snapped up, eyes widened. Slowly, the boy nodded, the catch of surprise evening his breath. "Yes, thank you," the boy managed, his voice hoarse from the exertion of his panic. "I'm Arthur."

"Ronan," he introduced himself, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Real conversation. How long had it been? Ronan studied Arthur's face, taking in the shadows beneath his eyes, the tension in his jaw. A strange worry separated him from the carefree summer boys. "You seem awfully distressed for a lad of your age." Ronan said unconsciously. Arthur's gaze returned to Ronan, a flicker of confusion passing over his features. "A lad of my age? You're no older than me." Ronan's heart sank as realization dawned upon him. For a moment he had forgotten, where he was. It was easy to forget when he sat alone with the turning years that his face remained that of a child. The cruel reminder sat in him like a heavy stone.

"O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,

Let it not be among the jumbled heap"

The words spilled naturally from Ronan's lips, bringing a sense of familiarity and comfort. It was a habit he had developed over the years, reciting poetry to himself to escape from the endless solitude of the Elsewhere.

"Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,—

Nature's observatory—whence the dell,

In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell"

Ronan looked up in pleasant surprise. The words had come from Arthur. A kindred spirit, Ronan realized. They fell into an easy banter as the day passed. Ronan found himself drawn to Arthur's quick wit and sharp intellect, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke of his favorite poets. As the sun began to dip, Ronan realized that hours had passed in what felt like mere moments. Time, his mortal enemy had lost its hold on him in Arthur's presence.

Ronan turned to face Arthur, suddenly conscious of the beating of his heart. In that moment, as the sun cast its dying light upon the lake, Ronan felt a new sensation of hope and excitement of the unknown.

"Would you, perhaps...like to continue our conversation over dinner?" As the invitation fell from Arthur's lips, Ronan felt a pang of longing in his chest. How he wished, how he longed.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Ronan began, his voice heavy with regret. "I can't."

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a reminder of the invisible chains that bound him to this place. He watched as Arthur's face fell, the sparkle in his eyes dimming with disappointment. "Oh, I see," Arthur mumbled, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I'm sorry. I just thought-"

"No, no, it's not," Ronan interrupted, desperate to erase the hurt from Arthur's features. "It's not you, Arthur. It's... complicated."

Arthur nodded, a forced smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I understand," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Perhaps another time, then."

Ronan watched as Arthur turned to leave, his heart sinking with the knowledge that another time would never come. He could never leave and no one would ever stay. He was doomed to this beautiful prison, forever eighteen and forever alone.

Ronan was surprised when Arthur returned the following day, a book clutched to his chest.

"I've been reading," Arthur announced without preamble, thrusting the book toward Ronan. "About the lore of this place." Ronan's heart stuttered in his chest. He forced his voice to remain level, affecting an air of nonchalance. "Have you now? And what, pray tell, have you gleaned from these...tall tales?" Arthur's gaze bored into him, unwavering. "You can't leave, can you?" The question hung between them, blunt and unavoidable. Ronan's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with a thousand possible deflections. In the end, however, he could only manage a single, damning word. "No." Arthur nodded, as though he'd expected nothing less. "A ghost, then." A startled laugh burst from Ronan's lips. "A ghost? No, I assure you, I am quite alive."

"But—"

"I am not of your world, Arthur. Not anymore. I am...Elsewhere."

"Elsewhere," Arthur repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"The caverns," Ronan clarified, gesturing toward the rocky outcroppings. "I wandered too far, you see. Crossed some threshold I cannot uncross. And now..." He spread his hands in a helpless shrug. "Now I am here, in this...

"Elsewhere" Arthur finished. "But you're sure you're not dead?"

"No." Ronan pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his palm. "I'm alive. Just...slower, somehow. Everything here is slower." Arthur's expression had gone thoughtful, his gaze distant as he absorbed Ronan's words. "And you're certain there's no way back?" Ronan's smile was a bitter, brittle thing. "Believe me, I've tried to trace the path I walked but I always end up back on shore."

Arthur became alight with possibilities, and Ronan could only stare as the boy prattled on about slipstreams and pocket dimensions. "I'm sorry," Ronan interrupted, holding up a hand to stem the flow of Arthur's excited chatter. "But I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Arthur blinked. "Oh. Right. Of course you wouldn't." He offered Ronan a sheepish grin. "Imagine two worlds, side by side unable to touch one another." Ronan's head spun with the implications. "And you think...you think that's where I am? In this other world?"

"It's possible," Arthur said, gnawing on his knuckle. "Ronan, I think if we can figure it out...if we can understand where you really are...then maybe we can find a way to bring you back." Hope, treacherous and fragile, bloomed in Ronan's chest. A way back, he thought. At last, home.

The following afternoon, Arthur returned with a picnic basket swinging from his hand. The sight of it, so normal and mundane, surprised Ronan. As Arthur spread out a blanket on the shore, grinning up at Ronan as he unpacked the basket Ronan realized he could not remember the last time he had eaten.

"I figured, if you're not dead, then you might still enjoy food." Arthur said. Ronan couldn't help but smile, settling down beside Arthur on the blanket. The food was simple fare - sandwiches, fruit, a thermos of lemonade - but to Ronan, it tasted like ambrosia. As they ate, they talked - about books and poetry, about the world that had changed so much in Ronan's absence. Arthur's hand brushed against his as he reached for a napkin, and Ronan felt an electric jolt at the contact. It was a reminder that, though his heart beat slowly, he was still human. Still alive.

Arthur looked up at him, his eyes wide and innocent. "Have you ever kissed anyone before?" It was a strange question, and yet Ronan responded, "No. I haven't." Arthur leaned in, his breath warm. "Would you like to?" Ronan's heart hammered in his chest as he nodded, unable to speak. Arthur closed the distance between them, his lips soft and tentative. It was a sweet kiss, chaste and gentle. But to Ronan, it burned with the familiar fire of humanity. When they parted, he couldn't help but smile, his fingers coming up to touch his tingling lips.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the kiss hanging between them. Ronan allowed himself to dream of a world of kisses and courtship. To dream of a future beyond the lake.

Ronan found himself looking forward to Arthur's visits more and more as the years passed. Each time, Arthur would arrive with a new theory, a new idea. He and Ronan would sit by the lake for hours, poring over ancient texts and scientific journals, trying to unravel the mystery of Ronan's entrapment. But even when their research hit a dead end, Ronan didn't mind. Just being with Arthur was enough. They would talk and laugh, sharing stories of their lives - Arthur's in the present, Ronan's in the past. And always, always, there was the undercurrent of something more between them.

It started with small touches - a brush of fingers as they passed a book back and forth, a lingering hand on a shoulder. But as time went on, those touches became more deliberate, more meaningful.

One day, as they sat side by side on the shore, Arthur turned to Ronan with a serious expression. "Ronan, I..." He trailed off, seeming to struggle with his words. "I care for you." Ronan's heart leapt in his chest. He reached out, cupping Arthur's face in his hands. "I care for you too, Arthur."

Their lips met in a kiss that was different from their first - hungrier, somehow. and from that moment, though they still worked tirelessly to find a way to free Ronan, the effort seemed more urgent. Because what they yearned for was a future. A shared future for both of them.

The years seemed to blur together for Ronan, each one marked only by Arthur's visits. He watched as Arthur grew from a gangly, teenager into a handsome man. And the love he felt for him grew with each year. It was easy for him to forget that time moved differently for Arthur. Arthur would arrive at the lake, his eyes bright with hope and new theories. And to Ronan it felt like no time had passed at all. But he could see the growing weariness in Arthur's age. The jaded heart of constant failure. And as the summer dream gave to reality, and Arthur's time at the lake ran out, the light in his eyes would dim a little more.

Ronan would pull Arthur close in their goodbye, kissing him deeply, trying to pour all of his love and longing into that one moment. But it was never enough.

"I'm sorry," Arthur would whisper, his forehead pressed against Ronan's. "I'm sorry I haven't found a way to free you yet." Ronan would shake his head, cupping Arthur's face in his hands. "Don't apologize, my love. You've given me so much already. More than I could ever hope for."

In the final year of Arthur's twenties, he was more urgent than ever. The ever growing disparity of his age to Ronan's was a fact he couldn't accept. Ronan watched with growing dread as Arthur paced along the shore, his eyes wild and desperate. He had seen that look before, every time one of Arthur's theories fell apart. But this time, there was something different, something reckless and dangerous in his movements.

"I've tried everything." Arthur said to himself. "I've researched time loops and slipstreams, pocket dimensions and alternate universes. I've tried everything except..."As Arthur's voice trailed off, Ronan followed his gaze to the mysterious stone caverns at the edge of the lake. Ronan felt a pit in his stomach at the implication of the gaze.

"No." Ronan demanded, "The caverns are too dangerous." But Arthur shook his head, his jaw set with determination. "I have to try, Ronan. We can't keep living on stolen moments." Ronan's heart clenched at the desperation in Arthur's voice. He knew that Arthur loved him enough to risk his life. Just as Ronan loved Arthur enough to beg him not to do this.

"I don't care if you get older," Ronan insisted, pulling Arthur close. "I'll love you no matter how much time passes."

​But Arthur was already pulling away, his eyes fixed on the yawning mouth of the cavern. "It's easy to say now. But I can feel the time, Ronan. In a way you can't. I have to try. Because we can't go on like this forever."

Ronan watched helplessly as Arthur strode towards the cavern, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to run after him, to drag him back to safety. He cursed the invisible chains that tied his feet to the shore. "Arthur!" he called out, his voice echoing across the still water. "Arthur!" But Arthur didn't look back. He disappeared into the darkness of the cavern, and Ronan felt a cold, sickening fear that he may never see Arthur again.

Ronan paced along the shore, his eyes fixed on the jagged mouth of the cave, praying that Arthur would emerge unscathed. Each agonizing moment only served as fuel to his fear.

He was pulled from thought by a strange, flickering light that appeared in the depths of the cavern. Ronan squinted, trying to make out what it was. As the light grew closer, he realized it was Arthur, clutching a lantern with trembling hands. There was something odd about the lantern that made Ronan's skin crawl. It glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light, casting strange shadows in the twilight.

Arthur held the lantern out to Ronan, his eyes wide with a terrible realization. "Ronan," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I think I've figured it out. I recognize this from my research. This is an ancient spirit lamp. Grian-fhaith - the sun catchers. It's an anchor. As long as it burns, the Elsewhere is tethered to the mortal world. I'm sorry, Ronan. I can't bring you back. But if I blow out the flame, you'll be free. You won't have to look in on a world you have no part of anymore." Ronan's heart stopped. He stared at the lantern, at the strange, pulsing light that seemed to beckon him closer. But then he realized the terrible truth: if Arthur blew out the lantern, he would be trapped in this world too.

"Arthur, no," Ronan pleaded, grabbing his arm. "You can't do this. You have a life, a future." But Arthur shook his head, "I have nothing to return to, Ronan. Even when I'm not here I am here, my mind and heart are here. You are my future, Ronan and I'd rather be trapped Elsewhere with you than continue to live in a world you cannot reach." Ronan's heart swelled with a desperate, aching love. He pulled Arthur close, their lips meeting in a hungry, passionate kiss. For a moment, the world fell away, and there was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other's embrace. But then Arthur pulled away, his hand tightening on the lantern. Ronan watched, his heart in his throat, as Arthur lifted the lantern to his lips and blew out the flame.

The world around them shimmered and shifted, the endless expanse of the Elsewhere stretching out before them. Ronan blinked, his mind reeling as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The lake had gone and stretched before them was an endless white nothingness. He turned to Arthur, his heart swelling with a bittersweet mix of love and regret. "Arthur," he whispered, his voice cracking. "What have you done?" Arthur smiled, his eyes shining with a fierce, unwavering love. "I did what I had to do, Ronan. And now we have forever."

Ronan looked around at the vast, empty expanse of the Elsewhere, forever seemed as unending as the white before him. He suddenly missed the lake, the familiar stone, the mirror into the world. "I miss the water lilies," he murmured to himself. No sooner had he said it than a trail of water lilies began to bloom around them, their delicate petals unfurling in a burst of color. Ronan gasped, his eyes widening in wonder. Arthur laughed, his face alight with joy. "Did you just?" And Ronan had. He had wished for lilies, and they had appeared before him. Suddenly the Elsewhere seemed more of a dream than the nightmare he always envisioned.

Ronan felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a warm, giddy feeling bubbling up inside him. He reached out and took Arthur's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Forever," he echoed, his voice soft and filled with wonder. "With you, Arthur, I think I can finally face forever."