The Hidden God of Open Doors

3

Rune paces the confines of his prison. It’s been hours since he matched, and Raider still hasn’t responded.

There are plenty of possible reasons for the silence. Raider is busy. He’s sleeping. But Rune’s head keeps turning over other possibilities, each just as likely. Maybe Raider took one look at Rune’s profile and wasn’t interested. Maybe Raider doesn’t want a man he can’t meet in person.

Worst of all—Rune keeps coming back to this, then shying away—

Maybe Raider doesn’t actually exist. Even if Rune could acquire a phone, what makes him think it’s connected to a real person? None of Rune’s appliances work how they should according to his books and television. There’s no electricity here. Maybe the phone is just a toy.

And stupid, gullible Rune is working himself into a dither over a hallucination.

The loss shouldn’t be so disappointing. When Rune woke up, he wasn’t thinking about being able to talk to someone. But now that possibility has been dangled in front of him, his eyes sting. His stomach turns nauseous at the thought of it being taken away.

With one arm wrapped around his stomach, Rune retrieves the phone from the kitchen table. Like picking at a scab, he scrolls through Raider’s profile again.

Raider’s photo fascinates Rune. Pale, sun-warmed skin speaks of a life outdoors. Dark brown hair, bright golden eyes, and tattoos. A black-ink snake winds around Raider’s left arm, and a flowering vine twists around the right. The tattoos are clear because in the photo, Raider is wearing a lime green, loose tank top. A bottle in his hand, he leans against a railing. Cloud-studded blue sky sweeps behind him.

Before Rune flips to the other photos, the inbox icon blinks. Drawn to the attractive flash of color, Rune clicks it before realizing what it means. Below Rune’s awkward rambling sits a reply from Raider.

Raider: Sorry, cutie, I got caught up in work. Besides, you should let me be the judge

The word cutie spins through Rune’s soul with shocking warmth. Stunned, he closes the app and turns the phone off.

He turns the phone back on, reopens the app, and finds the message still there. Leaning against his kitchen counter, Rune carefully types back.

Rune: What should you be the judge of?

Three dots immediately dance next to the tiny picture of Raider’s face.

Raider: How great your ass is ;)

Rune nearly drops his phone. Heat flushes his face, along with a stunned elation. Raider has to be real, because Rune never imagined his first remembered conversation would go like this .

Raider: Shit, don’t let me scare you off. I saw you don’t want to meet in person, and that’s fine. Consider that boundary respected. Super respectfully

Rune: I’m not scared.

Raider: You sure? I can be very scary

A smile tugs Rune’s lips. Typing on the little screen is getting easier. Is talking to people always this fun? He slides down the cabinets to sit on the floor, elbows braced on his knees.

Rune: I’ve heard of this conversational practice. You’re flirting with me.

Raider: Guilty as charged :)

Raider: Have you really never dated anyone before? You’re cute, you’re funny. Regardless of great ass status, you’re a catch

Rune: I don’t get out much, and there aren’t many options here.

Raider: Small town?

Rune: Small is an understatement. Or an overstatement?

Lying hurts, even through the glow of praise. The first real conversation Rune remembers and he’s already behaving terribly. Guilt twists his stomach, but he can’t bring himself to tell the truth. That he’s trapped down here, that he doesn’t know where he is, that he barely knows who he is. That he’s probably evil. That he’s been alone for so long.

Rune changes the subject instead.

Rune: What were you working on today? I don’t know anyone who’s started a business.

Getting Raider off track is easier than expected. Rune clings to the phone, genuinely fascinated, as Raider fills the screen with a series of enthusiastic essays. Raider describes his recent retirement from treasure hunting—which sounds thrilling enough. But Raider’s genuine joy in his new relic shop is even more interesting. Rune has read and watched plenty of adventure stories. The connection is new. The emotion.

Basking in Raider’s passion warms Rune just as much as the occasional—okay, frequent—flirty comments.

Rune could listen for days, but eventually, Raider interrupts himself.

Raider: Fuck, it’s almost 1. Bedtime for Old Man Raider. I have another contractor meeting in seven hours, and I can’t pull all-nighters like I used to

Rune: 6 isn’t old, but you should still sleep.

Raider: You get some sleep too. Talk to you tomorrow :)

Rune: Will you?

Rune sends the question in surprised delight—but realizes as soon as he sends it that he might sound needy . One of the phone apps purports to be an internet browser. While waiting for Raider to reply earlier, Rune had looked up a guide to online dating. The guide said not to sound needy, along with avoiding self-deprecation.

Rune: Sorry

Raider: You’re free to ignore me, cutie, but I’m definitely hitting on you again tomorrow ;)

Raider: Give me a kiss goodnight?

Rune: How?

Raider: Touch your finger to your lips

Raider: Then touch the phone screen

Something flutters in Rune’s chest. Touching his lips with a single fingertip, he’s never been more aware of his own physical form. The texture and heat of his own skin. When Rune touches the phone, the screen is warm too. He presses his finger next to Raider’s tiny photo.

Raider: Did you do it?

Rune: Yes

Raider: Good boy

Raider: I did too. Sweet dreams ;)

Then Raider goes offline, leaving Rune huddled around the glowing phone. Rune doesn’t move, but he could float away on the thrill.

He talked to someone. A real person. And that real person wanted to talk to Rune too. Even if nothing else happens, even if Raider forgets or changes his mind about talking tomorrow?

This is already the best day Rune remembers.