#patience.

Her Green Day album collection was almost complete, but there had still been a few out in the wild that she hadn’t been able to get her hands on, and today Patience was hoping for success. There had just been one tiny problem. Ever since just a few days ago, she had noticed an annoying jingle that happened every time she walked, and for the longest time, she had assumed it was just in her head. Well, until one of her older brothers had made a comment…and the made up assumption of a rare illness called “Jingle Hooves” had sent Patience into a spiral.

But today was when all the new stock was put out at Echo, and Patience had managed to somehow talk herself into going. As for the jingle hooves…

“Hey! Turn that shit down! Nobody wants to hear rock music this early in the day!” It was just one of the many comments the young faun had gotten as she strolled down the sidewalk on her way to Echo, and as long as Green Day blasted out of her phone, no one had seemed to notice the random jingling coming from her feet. It wasn’t until she had reached the record store, that she realized playing music in a record store that was probably already playing music wouldn’t work, so she reluctantly shut off her phone and stepped through the front door, where her wish had come true.

The music was just right to mask the sound of her hooves every time she moved around, but timing it to when the music ended and hoping another song would play that worked well with bells still sat right at the forefront of her brain.

— 

Cleo welcomed the little tingle of her door’s bell with a smile, looking up from where she was standing behind the till. She was trying her very best to make her way through the administrative work that came with the season, head pounding at the sight of all the numbers. There was nothing about it that inspired her. She should get some accountant to do it for her, either through human payment or a quick bind, and though she was considering it still, a part of her stubbornly wanted to do this herself.

The customer was quiet as she entered and so Cleo said nothing herself, even when she felt that blossoming in her chest that happened from time to time. Another fae. Her face brightened a little. Human customers were all right and well, and usually the better paying ones, but she could not fight the delight that came from meeting another fae. 

There was another side to that too, of course. One of worry, of shame. Of being seen by another fae and witnessed for all the ways she fell short. The gloves, to keep herself from feeding unwillingly, the hunger that gaped in her stomach, the fucking grief with no direction. She swallowed those. “Can I help you find anything in particular?” She would like to give the other an excellent recommendation. “Here for something specific … for yourself, for a gift? Just let me know.” 

—

Patience was antsy. And she had almost missed the question from the woman that was standing behind the counter, but one thing she definitely hadn’t missed was the acknowledgement of being in the presence of someone similar to herself. She just hadn’t been sure if they were of the hoof variety, “Uh…huh?” Looking at the albums and then at the woman, it finally clicked, “O-Oh! Green Day. I’m looking for any and all Green Day. They’re my favorite band, and I’m trying to get their entire album collection.”

As the previous song ended over the speakers above, Patience stayed still so as to not aggravate the jingles from her hooves. And when something else finally started playing, the faun instinctively started tapping her hoof where appropriate with the hopes of covering up her obnoxious secret, “Do you like Green Day?” She knew not everyone was a fan. Certainly not the man outside, but that didn’t matter, because she was still going to ask. “And I would love to hear your recommendations, since I feel like you’re pretty knowledgeable at this sort of thing.”

—

The other seemed nervous, which made questions rise within Cleo. Of course, there were some nerves coursing through her body as well, though that was hardly out of the ordinary these days. She looked at her for a moment, then smiled at the revelation that the other brought. “Green Day! Yes, I have some of theirs … what do you prefer, vinyl or CD? Or cassette?” That last one was rare, but not unheard of. All Cleo did was hope it wasn’t a microtrend that would fade into obscurity sooner than later. “I have the Dookie 30th anniversary, if that’s something you’re into. And otherwise…” She moved towards the punk rock area of her store, beckoning the other to follow.

She paused for a moment, listening to the music playing. It wasn’t something that aligned with Green Day, but that wasn’t what gave her pause. It seemed there were instruments she hadn’t heard before imbued in the song. She shrugged and continued on. “I do like them. I can’t say that I listen to them actively, but they rejuvenated punk quite well and for that I hold them in high regard.” She hummed for a moment before picking out a record for her customer — Bark Like a Dog by Screeching Weasel. “If you’re interested in a similar sound, this band is interesting.”

—

Patience perked up at the success she was having, and unintentionally let out a high pitched squeal of excitement. It was the realization of just how high pitched it was that reigned her back in as she began to blush, “I am so sorry. I just really love this band, and I wasn’t expecting you to have that version, because you know, special edition and all. But yes, I will gladly take that. And I’m looking to expand my vinyl collection. So any other limited edition versions you have, I would love to see.”

Walking had been hard, and Patience was awkwardly timing each step so that it worked with the music, which made her pause at the most random of times, until she managed to make it to the section that the woman had led her to, “It’s a…TikTok thing. Yeah, some stupid new challenge. Trying to time your steps with the music.” The faun’s smile was so uneasy and awkward that it even hurt her, but maybe throwing that lame excuse out into the universe would be just enough to have this woman accept that there may or may not have been a jingle coming from her direction, “So…you said Screeching Weasel? Never heard of them. Do you have a record player I could listen to them on, before deciding if I want to buy their album or not?”

—

The squeal of excitement made Cleo smile immediately, and she shook her head. “No need to apologize. I love it when people are passionate about music. It’s … a waste when they aren’t. And a favorite artist is important, wouldn’t you say?” Not that she was able to name one artist that was her favorite. Harley would have been her answer in the years she had spent with him, but it would have been a cop-out answer and she was well aware of it. She started flicking through the records under the ‘Green Day’ tab, pulling out the anniversary edition along with another limited edition.

When she looked at her customer over her shoulder to wonder where she was, she frowned at the way she was walking. “Oh,” she said, not bothering to pretend to understand. “That is strange. Usually when people time their steps with music, they just dance.” Cleo did not hide how stupid she found this so-called challenge. “It’s not even challenging.” She gestured at the two records she had put out, before nodding. “I’ll put them on for you, yes.” While she left the other to judge the Green Day records, she moved to pull out the record she had mentioned. She cleared her throat, looking around the store and only continuing when she had confirmed it was just them. “What kind are you?”

—

Patience was vibing with the woman. The music. The conversation. It had all been worth the awkwardness, “I mean how can you not be passionate about music. There’s seriously so much music in the world that there’s something out there for literally everybody. Sometimes, when my brain is working just right, I eat, sleep, and breathe music. It’s like it flows through my body from pen to paper, and it’s such a rush. I feel sorry for anybody who doesn’t enjoy that. But yes, the short answer, a favorite artist is VERY important.”

The faun could feel the enthusiasm oozing from her body as she watched the owner of the store pull out another special edition Green Day album. But her story was starting to fall apart, leaving her cheeks turning a bright red, she couldn’t control. Oh, Fuck. “N-No, it’s really not, but um…you know people and their stupid trends…” And then she realized it. She didn’t even have her phone out to film it. Practicing, she was just practicing…In her flurry of anxiety that was now starting to take over, she hadn’t even noticed when the other woman had left and come back, until Patience was very blatantly asked what she was, “W-What…What do you mean?” Cue faun in the headlights look.

—

“I absolutely agree. Something for everyone, and then some,” Cleo said, nodding fervently. “From pen to paper? Do you write?” Excitement washed over her face, eyes bright and intrigued. She liked meeting fae with creative outlets, as they were the right kind of people for her to interact with. Especially when they weren’t muses themselves, but still were artists. “I completely understand what you mean, though. That flow state. When I get like that, I would prefer to close my shop and just lock myself with my instruments and play.” Those moments were rare compared to how often she reached them before, and she tried not to think about how inspired she had once been. 

She let out a sigh. “Yes. I do know of humans and their stupid challenges, trends and fads,” she said ruefully. Cleo found those aspects of humanity quite exhausting. “What happened to flashmobs in shopping malls? Those were at least fun and creative. This one … I’m sorry to say, but sounds foolish.” She watched the other panic and found it confusing. Eyebrows creased and Cleo remained still as she specified: “What kind of fae?” If the other was not fond of meeting other fae, she could understand. “I’m a muse,” she offered, hoping that would smooth the look from the other’s face. Cleo added a small smile as punctuation.

—

Patience so desperately wanted to change the subject by continuing on the conversation about music and playing instruments. Even writing. Music was the life force of the young faun. Though she had never let anybody hear what she wrote or played, it still didn’t stop her from creating it. But in that moment, the only thing that was stopping her, had been the question she was trying to avoid at all costs. The question of what kind of fae she was. She wanted so desperately to recant everything she had thought about coming out into the world today, especially with the annoying jingle to her hooves, but for all the panic that had set in, there had seemed to have been good to balance it out with the Green Day albums and finding a like-minded person who loved music just as much as them.

And then, she didn’t feel quite as bad. Not when the other woman introduced herself as fae. Through the pitifully planned idea of a TikTok trend, she had found someone like her. Well, in the fae sense, and it didn’t make her feel as nervous as she had once been, “If it wasn’t apparent by the jingle of my hooves…I’m a faun.” She shot the woman a half-smile, still weary in nature, “I’m not so good at fauning…Well or really socializing. I just wanted to get out of the house, a-and I thought I could make up some stupid trend that would distract people from the jingling of my hooves. It already takes enough effort to try and leave the house on a daily basis. Let alone hide what I really am. B-But all that stuff I said about music…It’s true. And to answer your questions. I do write songs, and play the guitar. What about you? You know, being a muse and all? I don’t really know that much about other fae and what they’re into, since I grew up mostly around other fauns.” While Patience had been relieved to confess and let go of the lie she had been telling, she had still held a deeper seated anxiety of if it had ultimately been the right move.

—

When the other mentioned jingling hooves, Cleo realized what the added instruments she’d been hearing were. She let her gaze drop down, unable to stop herself from doing so. The other’s glamour was keeping her from seeing the hooves and whatever was making them jingle, so she looked back up to the young fae. “So that’s what that was,” she said, clearly amused. “Why are your hooves jingling?” She hadn’t encountered any fauns with jingling hooves before. Cleo tried to think back to all the faun she had met in her life and could not recount such a thing. She had learned a while back that the rules that usually applied didn’t tend to in this town, though, so she was open-minded about this strange phenomenon. 

As the other went on, stammering and stumbling over her words, Cleo’s brows creased slightly. She understood being awkward in company. She had long ago become socially stunted herself, struggling to be around people on certain days. Still, the air of slight superiority that she supposed naturally came with being fae meant she was able to hold her own among humans, at the very least. And with this young fae, she felt like she was able to navigate quite well too. “It’s good that you went out, despite … whatever is making your hooves jingle. What kind of music do you like to make? Do you prefer acoustic or electric?” She wasn’t frowning any more, in stead smiling at the other. “I do play music as well. I’m not much of a lyricist, but I’ve tried my hand at it. I prefer to compose. I like string instruments — the guitar, but the violin and others too. Of all fae besides my own I’ve been around faun the most … I feel we often have some synergy.” Though that synergy was gone now, wasn’t it? She could no longer feed in tandem with a faun as easily as she once had. “Are any of these to your liking?” She gestured at the records.

—

Patience’s cheeks had been bright red, especially when her hooves were further brought up, “I-I don’t know. It just started one morning. I got out of bed and they were jingling. I suspect that maybe the holidays have something to do with it though.” It was the only thing she could think of. Even her parents were a little thrown by the whole thing, until they had found out two of their grandfauns hooves had been doing the same thing. But until Patience could get used to it, it was embarrassing. Why did she have to be the only O’Connor child that jingled when she walked.

Cleo’s words had eased Patience’s worry though. In fact, it had somewhat made her feel better about her decision. Someone who supported her and believed in her. Not that her parents didn’t believe in her, but there was just something about a complete stranger telling you what you needed to hear for it to make more sense, “Thanks! My parents told me I needed to stay home, but I said ‘fuck it’ and did my own thing. Nothing, not even jingling hooves can keep me from my boys.”