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“Emma?”
Though quiet against the cool grass, his footsteps had given him away before his voice.
“I thought you were heading back to the dorm?”
“And I thought you were staying late to study.” She turned toward him, her eyes glistening under the full moon.
“What are you doing out here?” Beckett took a step closer, his gaze falling to the mason jar in her hands.
She continued a little further into the field, moving nearer to the treeline. He followed behind, watching her movements. “When I was younger, I always believed in magic.”
“It would make sense that part of your brain recognized your latent magick abilities and helped you believe.”
Her smile spread wider, her head shaking slightly to the sides. That wasn’t what she had meant. She knelt lower to the ground, holding the jar open in front of her.
“Emma?” He watched curiously, not understanding what she was doing.
Fireflies surrounded them in a sea of blinking lights, flashing brilliantly in the night.
“I didn’t mean magick… I meant magic, the kind that doesn’t actually exist but if you hope and wish hard enough, you believe it does, like unicorns.”
“Unicorns are real.”
“Okay, yes, that is a poor example. Tuneless people believe in unicorns and fairies and other things, especially as children, but as they grow older, they’re told those things don’t exist… when I was younger, I used to think fireflies were magic, like little stars brought to earth just for me. I spent so many nights chasing after them, catching them in jars like this, and marveling at their beauty.”
“They’re just insects. It’s simply a chemical reaction,” his voice trailed away.
“I know. But does something have to be magick to be magical?”
“I trust that is rhetorical, otherwise the answer is yes.”
She leaned forward then quickly clasped the lid tightly on the jar. “Gotcha!”
Two fireflies fluttered inside; the jar glowing just a bit under their soft light.
“I think they’re magic. Magic doesn’t have to be proven. Sometimes you just have to trust and believe in the possibility of something.”
He opened his mouth to disagree, but the light on her face gave him pause. Maybe just once, being right wasn’t worth it.
Crickets and frogs sang in the background as the two of them watched the tiny bits of magic dance in the jar. The flickering of the fireflies illuminated their faces.
“Now what?”
“Now—” Her thumb traced over the side of the jar. “We let them go. They live only a couple of weeks, just long enough to mate and reproduce. Their magic doesn’t belong caged in a jar. They deserve to be free.”
“Thank you for helping me believe in magic.” Her voice was quiet as she expressed her gratitude, wishing them goodbye. “I may never have found my way here without you. You taught me to believe in the impossible and that sometimes the impossible can become possible.”
She watched her fireflies flutter back over the field, blinking brightly in the cool night air, like the tiny stars she remembered as a child.
He hadn’t understood her excitement over a common insect before, but now, with their light reflecting in her eyes, he was starting to understand a little better. “May I walk you back to the dorms?”
“I’d like that.”
The path leading out of the field narrowed, forcing them closer together. Her fingers brushed against his, a rosy warmth spreading over her cheeks. He hadn’t pulled away, if anything, his cool grey eyes seemed softer now.
Her pulse quickened, her lip twisted as she bit the corner. Her fingers flirted again with his, but this time, when she pulled back, she entwined her pinky with his.
They walked wordlessly back to the dorms, a matching blush on their faces hidden by the night, their little fingers locked together.
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