For Pest, life came in the dullest grays and whites. And not in the literal sense. At least...not until now. Two days after making the biggest mistake of his life, he found himself sitting at the dinner table, staring at it.

The hollow feeling was back, and it wasn't getting better. If he was told he was being turned inside out, he'd half believe it.

Worse yet, there was no one to ask about it. Everything in him said not to broach it. For one, his father's only decree in the house was Never go near the hunchback's daughter. I don't care if you have to find love with a pig first.

That had been why Pest wished he hadn't allowed Wen's kiss a year ago. Truly, that hollow feeling started then. Colors started dulling then, but he'd taken it for guilt.

But what was he supposed to do? Walk around with an ogre girlfriend? Someone like him? He already drew rumors and praise from three kingdoms. This would be the thing to put him on the map.

Besides.... What would his father say?

A bowl plopped down before him, and the deafening sound made him flinch.

Fairies didn't necessarily have the best hearing, so why was his going crazy? Being a creature of small size, it was easy for a fairy to project its voice to be heard. But noises came in extremes, so although they could train themselves to hear in a projected fashion, he'd never once practiced it. So why, oh why, did his ears threaten to bleed?

A body floated by, and Pest picked his head up to watch it. His mother didn't like to walk. As such, though she remained big to care for him, she'd learned to straddle the mortal and immortal years ago to allow her the ability to fly, not far, and not high, but enough to avoid having to walk.

The thundering steps to close in, however, meant one person.

Pest gathered his bowl and pulled it to him.

His father flopped down into the chair. "What awful human food are we having today?" he demanded. "Bring it quickly so that I may continue my seventeenth year of confinement to his blasted human world."

A second bowl landed with a giggle. "Matax, stop." Mother floated around behind him and pressed her cheek to his from behind. "You know you love walking so tall."

Matax scoffed and dragged the bowl to him. "And we must use these tools? I still don't approve."

"Well, we can't eat these things on leaves and wash it down with morning dew, now can we?"

He hove a sigh, and it was one that accompanied a seventeen-year-lament.

"How much longer until this human child can survive on his own and we can abandon him and return to the forest? Slugs reach independence much faster."

Mother brought her own bowl and sat down with a laugh. "Hmm, let's see. The average human lives to be about fifty." At Father's frown, she was quick to add, "If we don't factor in natural disasters, slighting of ogres or dragons and such. I'd say a good fifty. And independence isn't the issue."

There was no more talk after that. Instead, his father glanced at him from across the table.

Pest turned his face away as he brought his bowl to him.

Great. Now they could all be miserable.

As was her habit, Mother rubbed Pest's head then held his face. "Oh, don't you listen to him. It's just in his colors. He can't help but say such foolish things. Fairies live hundreds of years. Seventeen is nothing. Besides, it's been fun thus far." She took his face in both hands and squeezed. "I for one adore you, human child."

The nickname stung, even now.

His parents ate fruits and berries. It had been a chore to convince them they required meat. Pest wasn't quite sure what his food would be, but he did something he knew his father would hate—he stood and retrieved a spoon.

Sure enough, he sat to a scoff. Even mother looked concerned.

"Pestel, are you sure? Don't Jaffo also eat with their hands? It's best to take less from the land and impose as little of human impact in your wake, dear. The forest will feed you well if you let it. You may not be a fairy in body, but you are one in blood. But you'll never be a true one if you don't learn to take less and less in order to exist. And once you do, your powers will come and—"

She stopped short.

At first looking down at the spoon, Pest focused on his breathing which had become ragged.

"Why do you deny it?" he asked, finally.

Mother's fairy powers gave her more pronounced features than other women. She could dull them but chose not to. To her, making herself known as a fairy was a matter of duty, no matter who it might offend.

But it was Father who was the biggest culprit. In a land of few dark-skinned people, he'd chosen a skin color that darkened each and every year it seemed. All because he missed his fairy colors.

Looking like everyone else is plain and boring had been the excuse, but Pest knew better.

Now, his mother echoed the same sentiment, albeit quieter.

"Deny what?" Mother asked, her voice vibrating as it always did before she went into a panic. "Darling, don't take my words too much to heart. Of course, we want you to become a proper fairy. Then you could fly with us forever."

Wordless, Pest looked down at his food. It was a white pasty concoction. But why use his hands when he could very well use a spoon? There had been enough pranks pulled on him over the years to make him question their motives. That was the nature of his mother's colors. She chased down joy and would go to great lengths to make him laugh.

Pest hadn't laughed in years. And she'd finally stopped trying.

The moment Pest put down at the spoon, Father scoffed. "At this rate he'll never be a fairy. The best we can hope for is him being eaten by something."

All air left the room. Mother's head rotated so slowly that even Pest was surprised.

"Matax," she said, teeth clenched, "may I have a word with you outside?"

Father swallowed hard then turned to take great interest in his food.

After that, there was blissful silence. His mother held out a few berries to him and he took them from her and ate.

His stomach growled in protest. They were still fairies in essence and could manage to live off this. Pest could not.

Truly, it was one day. His fingers merely grazed the spoon and his mother gasped.

For a long minute, Pest didn't move.

"You're just like him," Pest picked up his head and told her. "Just waiting for me to die so you can escape this putrid human world and this putrid human child!"

Neither of them spoke, and he boxed off the bowl and threw down the spoon before making his way to the door.

After he walked out, the voices still reached him.

"Come, Matax. Makes no sense in sitting in a mess. Let's clean up."

Father scoffed. "Times like these, he actually looks like a proper Fae. And even then, no magic comes for him."

"This is still your fault. I've told you. Humans take words to heart. Each and every one is like a binding contract. You must be more careful."

Perhaps his father stood to help her clean. He must have done something because Mother demanded, "What does that mean?"

Matax was always gentle with her, and this time was no different.

"It is not I who angers him. He knows my feelings. But you do not vocalize your suffering as well."

"It is only fifty years, Matax! If you truly cared for me, you'd at least muster up fifty years!"

The house door slammed for a second time but by then Pest was already headed to the forest.

Despite his putrid father's contemptible nature, he had one thing Pest could not understand, love.

The bastard truly loved his mother. In fact, that was the only reason he remained a human for her day in and day out.

Better if they'd found him or stolen him. But as he was their child by birth, and creatures of magic valued possessions, Mother would not leave the human world and abandon him in return for a punishment. And there were a few years where he'd tested them bitterly.

As Pest walked, he took in the forest. The usually vibrant greens now looked olive. This was a problem. He could no longer argue it was his imagination. It wasn't. For him, the colors of the world were draining out.

A bee buzzed by, and Pest followed it for a time. Finally, he hovered his hands together and caught it.

It fluttered but a moment then calmed. Upon opening his hands to find it simply at rest, he tested his mother's words. Magic. He could not use it, but he could access it in this forest.

"Fly up," Pest instructed. The bee obeyed. He tried commanding it with thought and the bee landed in his palm yet again.

Amazing.

The creatures of the world were all so interesting. Even the trees could talk in these enchanted woods. As such, he found his usual hiding spot and tapped the tree trunk for a branch to grow for him. He stepped on it, then another that jutted. Once he was finally at the top, he patted it again and the branches below receded.

He was there barely a minute before his body warmed. That meant one thing, Fanli.

A smile spread across his face, but he remembered something important, she now avoided him.

Someone caught the branch below and Pest peered down. What he expected was to see a green body, trim and lithe, moving from branch to branch like some ancient worrier. What he saw was something...strange.

He almost mistook her for a real human and that fact troubled him.

She reached much later than if she were her normal self.

Pest held the bee in his hand but swung his legs over the branch and gave her room to sit. Her hesitation sent him into a panic. Each time he encountered her lately, it was like she was drifting further away.

As ogres did not react well to bees in human form, Pest kept his new friend from view.

Fanli sat. And as she did, she gave him the one thing he needed, companionable silence. She didn't needle him for information, laughter, chatter, nothing. She just let him be.

The scene unfolding below in the lake startled him at first. Yes, he had seen something like this a time or two. No, it wasn't his intent to watch it today. He thought to invite Fanli to leave but her cough and uncomfortable reaction did something no one could manage in months—it made him laugh.

Each time she looked at him, he was sure to wipe that smile away.

In truth, her nervous shifting and coughing was far more interesting than what unfolded. But then the faun and nymph finished enjoying one another and that sense of sadness returned.

"She says I don't smile enough," Pest found himself saying.

Speaking to Fanli came easiest. She'd been angry about the Wen situation, and yet, she decided to move away rather than fight.

Pest attracted many eyes of admiration. More than once, two women had literally fought for his attention. Wen had as well and had won in her own way.

Fanli's abandonment stung but he brought it on himself. After he and Fanli conversed, feeding his soul for but a minute, she conveyed her desire to return home.

That human form was convincing. She'd more than find a man soon enough. Pest knew it was wrong, and he did not blame it on his fairy blood when he opened his hand and allowed the bee to escape.

It didn't go far, so he gave it a command. This would teach her a lesson—she'd never dare take human form again.

Wait.

"What exactly happens to you if it stings you?" Pest asked, careful to mask his worry and regret.

She flinched. "You're about to find out."

Her joints locked up and she wore a look of woe and hurt as she slipped from the branch and plummeted like a rag doll.