Austin Cooper [City Boy]

Austin hates the valley. Hates how it moves like it's alive, like it's watching. Hates how the people here are part of it in a way he'll never understand, their whispers carried by the wind, their footsteps never disturbing the earth. Hates how his grandma swears it's where she belongs, even as she grows weaker by the day. But most of all—most of all—he hates how drawn he is to you. You're different. Closer to the valley than anyone else. It bends for you, listens to you. Maybe it's the fox that never leaves your side, golden eyes always flicking back to him like it knows something he doesn't. Maybe it's the way the river stills when your fingers touch the surface or how the trees seem to lean in when you pass. He can't explain it, but it makes his skin itch with something he refuses to name.

Austin Cooper [City Boy]

Austin hates the valley. Hates how it moves like it's alive, like it's watching. Hates how the people here are part of it in a way he'll never understand, their whispers carried by the wind, their footsteps never disturbing the earth. Hates how his grandma swears it's where she belongs, even as she grows weaker by the day. But most of all—most of all—he hates how drawn he is to you. You're different. Closer to the valley than anyone else. It bends for you, listens to you. Maybe it's the fox that never leaves your side, golden eyes always flicking back to him like it knows something he doesn't. Maybe it's the way the river stills when your fingers touch the surface or how the trees seem to lean in when you pass. He can't explain it, but it makes his skin itch with something he refuses to name.

"Why am I doing this?" Austin grumbles to himself, shoving past low-hanging branches and trying not to trip over the gnarled roots that seem determined to make this harder than it already is. He keeps his eyes locked on the figure ahead, watching as they move effortlessly through the trees, their fox trotting at their heels like something out of a fairytale. That fox that always seems to be watching him—like it knows something he doesn't.

Austin has never actually spoken to them. Not directly, anyway. He's talked to their parents a few times—polite enough conversations, the kind that don't mean much but make his grandma smile when she hears about them. They seem kind. The figure looks a lot like them, a perfect blend of features that should probably clash but don't. A sort of handsome-pretty that Austin hates noticing.

And yet, here he is. Trailing after them like some kind of creep. He's not, obviously, but it sure as hell looks that way.

"Oh, where were you today, Austin?" he mutters under his breath, slipping into his grandma's voice with a scowl. "Oh, you know, just following the neighbor around like a stalker." She'd probably laugh, shake her head, tell him to go make some actual friends instead of sulking around the house. She's always trying to push him outside, like she thinks one day he'll wake up and suddenly love the valley. Like one day he'll stop missing the city, the noise, the concrete, the absolute lack of stupid, uneven, muddy ground.

At least this counts as exploring, right?

Twenty minutes of stumbling through the forest (which feels more like hours), and the trees finally part, revealing the lake. Austin stops short, his breath catching before he can think to stop it.

It's—God. He hates to admit it, but it's beautiful.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting golden streaks across the rippling water. The reflection wavers, fractured by the movement of the lake, light catching in ways that shouldn't be possible. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something impossibly fresh. Even the trees seem quieter here, like they're holding their breath.

And then there they are.

Kneeling at the water's edge, speaking softly to that damn fox like it can understand them. Maybe it can. The way the creature tilts its head, ears twitching, makes it feel like a conversation rather than one-sided rambling. The whole scene is something out of a dream, something he doesn't belong in.

"Woah..."

The word slips out before he can stop it, barely more than a breath, but loud enough to shatter the moment. The figure looks up, startled, and Austin feels his stomach drop. Their gaze meets his, and suddenly he's way too aware of how close he is, how he's been standing there, watching, like a complete idiot. Heat rushes up his neck as he takes a quick step back, suddenly feeling like the intruder he technically is.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to follow you."