Eight
Elias
I’m hit with an onset paralysis, and as a hazy feeling comes over me, my eyes begin to lose the fight to stay open. As I go rigid in the recliner, a familiar blond appears with purple highlights instead of only tips. His center charm lights up like a rainbow, as if he’s not sure what emotion or feeling to settle on. He looks down, mouth gaping as his clothes begin to fade, and he snatches a blanket from my couch.
“Sorry.” Arien blushes. “I had no idea how much energy was required to have my clothes travel with me until recently, and changing my appearance also drains too much from me.”
I want to tell him not to then. To come as he naturally is and that I much prefer his original form anyway. Those strong, curving horns that transition from dark purple to light purple. His beautiful light-purple skin and black hair with purple tinting. He’s the complete opposite of Brody, and maybe that’s what the problem was with all those other guys. Even with different hair color and eyes, they still felt too much like what I once had.
It wasn’t about how good they could make me feel, per se, because I knew giving myself a glimpse of happiness before immediately ripping it away would hurt more. So I continued to search out company for that very reason, to get as close to feeling as helpless as my brother did in his last moments of life. To feel the burden Brody had when he was the only one around to pick up all my broken pieces.
He gave up on trying to stick them all back together again, drained of energy and life the more he tried to breathe both back into me. I felt like I was letting him down again somehow, when all I could do was picture his face while the other men kissed me. I tried the Monster Match app once but no one really caught my attention. Would Arien have if I’d seen him on there?
He sure did have most of it when he’d entered my coffee shop, and preventing myself from staring for too long didn’t last. My eyes kept finding his again, and the hoodie that had a label in the corner of it just like mine.
Arien must think I want him here this way, after seeing pictures of me with Brody, but it actually makes it harder to look at him. That’s why I’d clung to any difference I could—the purple ring around his irises and purple creeping into his hair.
Arien sits on one of the armchairs, singing another song I don’t recognize. The lyrics are so random and are about him wanting to be more helpful than he is . . . to not be tempted to snoop in my candy drawer again.
A light goes off inside me, and if my lips could move, they probably would. He’s making this all up as he goes. Purple creeps up his arm and he sighs.
“Yeah, this isn’t working, is it? I was sure this would work.” He continues to ramble on, and I haven’t got a clue what he’s going on about, but I do know his disappointment starts to weigh heavily on me. My knees weaken and my head spins.
He stretches out his arms as his skin turns a pale shade again, and he shakes his head. “Not how it’s supposed to happen. I’m not supposed to add to it. Son of a hogglememphias.”
Hoggle what now? Is that his way of substituting curse words? A spark strikes against my chest, and my stomach reacts with a bubbly sensation I haven’t felt in a long time. My body wants to release a laugh. A dress appears behind the blanket he’s holding, and he jumps up with excitement. Flowers sprout across the fabric—some have happy faces and others have fangs. Does he see these in his world? Will I get to see more of them in my dreams?
Spinning around, he sings a different song with the same beat but more uplifting than before. “Oh, what a good time to be wrong and to sing a song. I made you feel something other than sadness and probably with all my madness.”
The corners of my lips shake, and my fingers move one by one. And just like that he’s gone. His silly songs, however, remain in my head, following me to the shower and influencing my mouth to sing along. I smile the whole time, so fucking big, and I can’t hate it right now. I try and try but keep burying myself in his rambling and the memories of his bad dancing.
Laughter spills from my lips, and there goes that buckling in my knees. My feet feel like they’re slipping away from the floor and my eyes grow smaller.
Arien is jumping up and down, wearing way too many layers of clothes. “This is incredible. It’s working! And you do sing in the shower! I knew it.”
Then he blushes when his eyes take in more of my naked body. “I’m sorry. I just realized you’re in the shower. Humans like their privacy during those if I remember correctly.” He spins around, his charm lighting up bright yellow.
Zaps of electricity shoot through me, and I can’t stop all the wonderful sensations from spreading—my body is too relaxed and inviting.
Burying his face in his hands, he sings a new song, the beat changing in some places and the lyrics even more ridiculous than before. His hand is over his eyes as he spins around. “‘Firework’ by Katy Perry,” he blurts.
Huh?
“That’s your favorite song.”
Not even close.
“‘Birds of A Feather,’” Billie Eilish.
Nowhere near the right genre.
“Um . . . ‘Pocket Full of Sunshine.’”
And we’re going in the wrong direction again.
“No, I got it . . . ‘Hotel California’ by the Eagles.”
As much as I like that song, never once have I considered it a favorite.
“Wait, I got it!” he shouts, moving his hand away and then squealing when he remembers where he is before covering his eyes again.
My body buzzes and my shaking lips help bring feeling back into the rest of me, and once again he’s gone. Fog covers the glass from the hot water running for so long. Using my finger, I write, “Getting warmer,” and then I shut off the water. The cold tile shocks me more awake, and I quickly cover myself with a towel as I make my way to my room.
As I’m pulling basketball shorts and a muscle shirt from my closet, my eyes land on my hoodie. Once dressed, I yank it off the hanger and set it on the armrest of my couch before sitting down to turn on the TV. I don’t sleep the rest of the night, flipping through several movies before settling on one. When it ends, I go back to wasting too much time browsing, only to end up reading on my kindle.
Daylight trickles through my windows as I’m reaching the halfway point of the story, and I yawn, stretching out my legs. My stomach makes garbled sounds, and I look toward the kitchen, considering my breakfast options before reaching the fridge.
Only three eggs remain in the carton, and I reach for the pack of bacon. As I search for the pan in one of the lower cabinets, I notice they’re organized by size and type.
I bark out a laugh when I open the drawer and the spatulas have also been arranged in an appealing way. He did say he got bored waiting for me to wake up. Sighing, I go on to cooking my breakfast, and I pull up one of the stores’ apps I order groceries from, putting in an order.
Four packs of sour belts, cheese balls, and a bag of cotton candy is added to the cart. I hit pay, and tidy up my living room as I wait for my order to arrive. Words he said before come back to me as I place the cotton candy on my coffee table.
“I heard it tasted better when it came from a carnival.”
I frown at my inability to bring a carnival to him. Having not been to one in a long time myself, I can’t confirm whether what he said is correct, but as far as other foods go, fresh is always better. This will have to do.
With the rest of the items put away, I turn on YouTube and search carnival ambience. A Ferris wheel and cotton-candy stand show up on the screen when I select the second video. The camera moves to a carousel with spinning ceramic horses, zebras, and other animals. Perfect.
Getting lost in all the lit up, twirling swings and fast-moving teacups, I forget what I’m supposed to be doing for a good five minutes. Oh yeah . . . sleeping. This is the time I usually lie down on the couch or my bed with a light blanket, hoping to get enough rest to make it through my shift later.
When I don’t find the knitted throw draped over the couch, I begin walking to my room and then backtrack once I remember where it went. My lips threaten to tilt as I retrieve the blanket from the floor by the recliner. That’s where he dropped it yesterday when he got his clothes back. Sugar and other sweet smells greet my nose as I bring the soft material to my face, and I breathe in deeply, one last time, before settling onto the couch and shifting to my favorite side.
My nose finds the blanket again, and I almost get up to see if my hoodie smells the same way. I can’t believe I’m over here smelling items in my apartment like some weirdo. Is this really what he smells like? Or did I spill a drink, or sugar from my sour belts during one of the many times I dozed off and don’t remember what I did last.
Fluffing my pillow underneath me, I lift my hips to scoot back to a more comfortable part of the cushions and close my eyes. No dreams come. Only sleep. It’s so peaceful while it lasts and then I open my eyes to Arien, closely watching the TV with his back turned toward me. He’s in his human disguise. I curse myself for forgetting to leave a second note about him being himself.
I already know what he looks like. Why continue hiding behind someone else? The tight blond curls aren’t as fitting to his face shape. The medium-length purple black suited him better. Those horns did too. Without them the charms are floating above his head with nothing to rest on.
Reaching out toward the large screen, he traces the shapes of the Ferris wheel’s passenger cars. He turns around wearing a smile, eyes widening as they land on me.
“Oh, hey. I didn’t realize you were starting to wake up. I . . . Thanks for the cotton candy.” He blushes, picking up the half empty bag from the coffee table. “It tastes nothing like the sour belts, but I like it just as much.” He folds his fingers over the crinkling plastic. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to wait or not, but it was getting hard to resist with the fluffy cloud-shaped food staring at me.” Smile widening, he glances back at the TV. “Thanks for the carnival too. This is more lifelike than the movies. Real people standing in lines and laughing with friends—nothing scripted or forced. It’s like I imagine my first time going there would be.”
I lie here, for once not wanting to force any part of my body to move.
“Did you sleep well? Any dreams?” He closes his eyes, muttering something to himself as he slaps his hand to his forehead. “You can’t respond. How many times do I have to remind myself of that? I act like this is my first time or something. And trust me, you don’t want to hear about my first human visit. I stepped on so many Lego pieces and flew into a wall after being forced forward by a Hot Wheels car. That was the first time I learned about human kids having toys.” He takes a breath. “I was a kid too, back then, and so much of this world was brand new to me.”
His shirt and shorts start fading. With a panicked expression, he rushes behind the recliner and sighs in relief when he spots my hoodie. “I promise to leave it here before I go.”
It’s not a big deal if he doesn’t. I have plenty more in the closet. Brody tried to talk me into getting rid of at least half of them when we moved in together, but he no longer has to worry about me taking up too much room in the closet with all my extra crap or old shirts with holes in them.
“So, I read your message on the shower door. I was wandering around again while you slept and hung your wet towels up. I’ve seen humans in movies mentioning them smelling and ruining surfaces. You should really learn to use your racks in the bathroom.”
He’s right, and it’s yet another thing Brody griped about. He and Adam were both tidy people. Thank God, too, because if it wasn’t for all their constant cleaning and dusting our place would have been . . . well, like mine is now. My apartment looks a little too lived in with me constantly missing the dirty hamper and leaving dishes to sit for longer than a day . . . not emptying the dishwasher as soon as the dishes are done.
I lay jackets and kick off shoes in random places. Takeout boxes and empty cups litter my end table until I run out of room. I wasn’t always this bad. Lack of sleep really worsened my fatigue. I only have so much energy to get me through my workdays, so I spare any bit of it I can while at home.
“Your favorite song must be rock or alternative. At least I know not to include anymore pop music. You don’t strike me as a country guy, even though you’ve mentioned your brother being a fan. You and he were like night and day, weren’t you?”
We were. Identical in looks only. Here I always thought twins were supposed to be more alike. We did share some of the same favorite foods and borrowed each other’s clothes. He stole my sunglasses, hats, and shoes, but I didn’t raid his closet unless I needed something formal or nicer than my band shirts. If only Arien would rummage through my closet the way he does every other place in my apartment, then he’d be able to narrow down his choices more.
“Pearl Jam.”
I’m definitely making a face in my head and it’s not a pleasant one.
“Foo Fighters? Goo Goo Dolls?” His face scrunches up. “Wait, I said I’d guess your favorite song but I keep naming artists. “‘Like a Stone’ by Audioslave.”
How does he know all these songs? It’s unfair he gets to be the only one to ask questions.
“‘Scar Tissue’ by Red Hot Chili Peppers?” he says hopefully. “How am I supposed to know if I get it right if you can’t so much as shake your head.”
Concentrating hard, I try to rock my head from side to side when he names another song that isn’t my favorite, but minutes pass before I’m finally able to give him a non-verbal answer. He disappears as soon as I do, and I lie back down when I see how much time I have left before needing to be downstairs. Dreams come this time. I’m at the scene of the accident but I’m the only one in the car. As I tug at my seatbelt, Arien fills the seat beside me and the vehicle changes to two large green slug-looking creatures racing one another through a sea of trees.
Throwing his head back, Arien laughs, singing another made-up song about his wobbelous being faster than me as streaks of slime are left behind in every part of the sand the creatures touch. I grab onto the tough skin, pinching the extra folds between my fingers as we move faster.
“Duck,” Arien yells as we reach trees with low branches. Leaves attach themselves to my hair as I lower my head at the last minute.
Arien laughs harder, his lips turning a soft purple and cheeks tinting with the same pretty color. He reaches for my hand and without any hesitation, I let him take it. I’m different here and don’t have the need to hold myself back with anything.
“‘Drive’ by Hoobastank,” he shouts, and I shake my head.
“You’re horrible at this guessing stuff.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
I bite back an almost smile. “Nope. That would make things too easy, and I look forward to what wrong answer you’ll give me next.”
He groans, bouncing up and down on the wobba whatever it’s called as it speeds up, passing mine. When I catch up to him, he yanks his to the right and it takes a sharp turn. Following his movements, I make my ride do the same, and then out of nowhere the sluglike creature under me turns into a crystal-clear rock glittering in the light. The dusty-looking areas remind me of sugar.
“Go ahead,” he says, lying back in the tall, waving grass.
I tilt my head, lowering my gaze to the powdery stuff rubbing off on my hands. “Do what now?”
“Lick your hand,” he says with a high-pitched sound wrapping around his words. “It’s how we get our sugar. Except it’s not called that here . . . It actually doesn’t have a name, but it’s good for giving you a little jolt on your tongue and offering a spurt of energy.”
Hesitating a little, I study my hand closely and rub my fingers over the soft, silky powder. It’s very similar to powdered sugar. Lowering my face, I swipe my tongue over the back of my hand and there’s a zinging sensation on my tongue. So much sweeter but with no added flavors. I wouldn’t mind eating this every day instead, though. Simple, but satisfying nonetheless. But why have simple when I can have a reason to buy cotton-candy-flavored everything?
Staring in Ariens’s direction, I take in the way the purple strands of his hair shine in the bright light. It’s nothing like our sky. No blue or white, only bright light. It’s hard to explain. Too blinding to look up at for too long with your eyes open, Arien has his shut wearing a serene expression.
Folding his arms behind his head, his hoodie slides up his hips revealing more of his inner thighs. A shiver runs through me, and as if my legs have a mind of their own, they carry me to where he is. The grass feels better the closer I get, and when our arms touch, he shields his face and rubs a thumb over the corner of my lips. Can’t let any of that agalate go to waste.
My tongue sneaks out before he can bring his finger to his mouth, and I swipe along his skin. “No, we really shouldn’t.”
His breaths shallow. As he inches his face closer to mine, his chest rises and falls heavily, a purple hue spreading across his body. “How greedy of you, not wanting to share with me.”
“I still left some for you. Right here.” I brush my lips over his, my hands reaching for him as I wake up. No paralysis this time. No him. I go right from sleeping to being awake, rubbing my head as I stare at the leftover cotton candy on my table. I was too much of my old self in there . . . but also someone else.
“I’m sorry,” I say up at the ceiling. “I’m so fucking sorry, Adam. I ran toward a flicker of happiness after taking it away from you, and I got closer to him when I struggled so hard to let Brody in.” Doesn’t this make me worse than before? I don’t understand what’s happening in my dreams, but the guilt slips far away when he shows up and all that’s left is him and me, racing on strange creatures and getting a new kind of sweetness from each other.
It’s starting to have lasting effects when I wake up too. I stand from the couch, and as I walk into the kitchen, a small crystal like the one in my dreams is sitting on the table with a note.
“Audioslave’s ‘Like a Stone?’”
Picking up the pen—while keeping one eye on the shining rock that’s covering the table in some of its sweet dust—I write my response.
“No. You get one more chance and then you’ll have to move on to a new question.”
I bring the rock to my nose, and it has that same wonderful scent he left on my blanket. It’s so easy to give in to him, while for three years it was so hard to be what Brody needed.
Was it because I connected the biggest tragedy in my life to him? Was it because he was there too, and when I see him, I’m temporarily back in that car? Is it because Arien makes me forget I ever lost anything at all, making new memories more consuming than the old ones?
Sighing, I gather a tiny amount of agalate from the smooth surface of the crystal and lick my fingers. Closing my eyes, I think back to when our lips were touching, and I try to go back there. I try and try, unable to open that portal again—unable to reach that peace again—and when I open my eyes, I’m all alone, with my grief hitting me hard in the chest. I really do suffer more this way. So maybe it really is okay to enjoy the cute little demon’s company if I feel much worse when he leaves compared to when I never knew him at all. He’ll see why I can’t be loved again soon enough. He’ll see what Brody sees—what Adam should have seen—so he doesn’t get close enough to regret ignoring the signs that Brody saw clearly when it was only us two.