Pinpricks of Light
Chapter nine
Cya
Cya’s first plebeian cinematic experience had been interesting.
The tween heartthrob on screen had possessed a patchy goatee and swoopy hair, but his singing voice had been decent enough.
Jasmyn and her friends had talked throughout the whole film, hands flying as they giggled a touch too loud for Hearing standards.
Dex shushed them with a tap to their heads every now and then, but he mostly let them be.
They’d shared puffed doka seeds covered in salt and a giant icy drink from the human dimension called a slushie. Under normal circumstances, it would have been far too sweet, but the doka puffs had left their mouth so dry and oversalted they’d welcomed the sugar rush.
After the film, the girls had pointed at Cya and Dex’s lips, stained blue from the slushie, and laughed hysterically.
Dex had made a show of sticking out his large, dyed tongue and roaring like a monster as he chased the girls down the sidewalk.
He beat his chest like a pro-wrestler, hoisted them into his arms, and threw them all over his shoulders while they squealed and pummeled his back.
The noise had garnered attention, and Cya’s cheeks had warmed in embarrassment at the immature display. When they’d criticized Dex for it, he’d cocked his head at them, thick brows furrowing in confusion.
“It’s called having fun, highness. You should try it sometime; you just might like it.”
When it was all said and done, Cya decided that they liked the cinema and resolved to convince Hemersyn to take them again in June for the release of Killer of Fire Lake VII—the next installment to a kitschy slasher franchise they’d spent their teen years sneaking watches of when their parents weren’t home.
Hemersyn would make popcorn, and they’d watch it together, laughing at the over-the-top fake gore.
“Killer of Fire Lake sucks,” Rusty said on a Thursday in April. “The first one is only good because it’s a cult classic, but the sequels are terrible.”
“They most certainly are not!” Cya crossed their arms over their chest in indignation. “I’ll concede that the fourth one was a bit dodgy, but the others—”
“They killed him, like, three times, and he still comes back every movie with no good explanation other than that the plot demands it,” the Pyclon argued as Dex’s head swung back and forth between him and Cya, heterochromatic eyes wide.
“Technically, he didn’t actually die the first two times. They just made it look like he did,” they said defensively. “And the third time, they did a ritual—”
“Yeah, which was stupid because up until movie six, there had never been a supernatural angle to the franchise. And then suddenly, we get a ghost zombie killer? Come on!”
Fists on his hips, Rusty arched a judgmental, mauve brow at them, and Cya bristled. “He wasn’t a ghost or a zombie. He’d been resurrected.”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
“You know,” Dex interrupted, placing one hand on Cya’s shoulder and another on Rusty’s chest, “it’s just a movie. And while I am fully reeling from the plot twist of you”—he looked at Cya—“liking slasher flicks, I think we can all agree that whether a movie is good or not is entirely subjunctive.”
“You mean subjective,” Cya and Rusty corrected him simultaneously, and Dex’s ears lowered, his tail tucking halfway between his legs at their intensity as they both continued, “And no, it’s not!”
“I don’t like horror movies,” Toni said from his spot perched on the back counter between the sink and the blenders. “They’re gross or sad. I like rom-coms or buddy-cop movies!”
Dex’s expression brightened as he turned toward the Elas. “Bro, please tell me you’ve watched the human Fast and Furious franchise?”
“What do you take me for? A sucker? Of course, I’ve seen Fast and Furious. It fucking slaps!” Toni said, and Dex bounded over to him, tail wagging.
“Tonilicious, my man!”
They did a complicated handshake, then embraced with much grunting and back-slapping. Rusty wrinkled his nose, whiskers twitching, and Cya made a noise of disgust.
“Absolutely no taste,” they said.
“You can say that again,” Rusty agreed.
“Whatever,” Dex drawled dismissively. “You wouldn’t know peak cinema if it—”
“Gobbled your dick?” Cya finished before they’d thought better of it.
“The fuck?” Rusty cried.
“Well, that was vividly descriptive, but not in a good way,” Toni lamented.
Dex’s eyes grew huge as a grin broke across his face. “Alright, alright! Gobbling dick is catching on. High-five.”
“No,” Cya said, and Dex dropped his hand, looking crestfallen.
“Am I really that old that I’ve lost touch with the new generation’s slang?” Toni asked no one in particular.
“Who actually says that?” Rusty demanded.
Cya waved a hand wildly at the Lupyn. “Dex did!”
“I did,” Dex chirped cheerily at the same time. “Because I realized, like, a month ago that I’m maybe a little gay.”
“Really?” Toni placed a hand on Dex’s shoulder and squeezed. “You doing okay with the revelation? I know it ain’t always easy.”
“I still don’t think a gay revelation is reason enough to use the word gobble in relation to anyone’s junk,” Rusty said.
“Agreed,” Zef—the Mantodea who worked in the kitchen with Toni, Glyma, and Willow—said miserably from the doorway, their antennas drooping. “I wish I had stayed in the kitchen so I could have avoided this conversation.”
“You think this is bad? He blurted it out on a busy train where everyone could hear,” Cya said with a hint of a whine. “It was horrible.”
Dex shrugged, tail wagging when Toni’s hand moved through his blond fur to cup the side of his neck. “Yeah, I’m cool with it. I just like pretty, femme people, I guess, even if they aren’t girls.”
“Dude, me too,” Toni beamed, giving Dex a good-natured shake. “You’re potsexual!”
Rusty sighed. “Pansexual, Toni.”
“Technically, attraction to femininity, regardless of gender identity, is considered gynesexual,” Zef added as they inspected the end of their long, white braid.
Dex made a face. “That makes me think of the gynecologist. I think I like pansexual better.”
“Oh, then that ain’t me because I’m into everybody.” Lips spreading to reveal his sharp teeth, Toni listed off on his fingers. “Short kings, tall queens, and all the in-betweens, baby.”
“I’m just into Gem,” Rusty said with a small smile, fingering the hem of his Fuck The Man cut-off.
“Or was it finsexual?” Zef cocked their head, milky, compound eyes staring off into the distance like they were thinking hard about something.
“I do not remember. I must ask Bryce to help me search the internet to find out for sure. I no longer trust the search algorithm to provide porn-free results.”
Interest piqued, Toni pointed at Zef. “There’s a story there, and I wanna hear it.”
Zef’s gaze darted to Rusty, then quickly away. “Trust me, Toni, you do not.”
“You know, porn actually helped cement the gay stuff for me. I watched a femme dude in lingerie jerk off, and I was pretty into it,” Dex admitted. Out loud. Where other people could hear him.
Sometimes, Cya regretted ever changing to the day shift. “Oh my gods.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I wanna know that,” Rusty said with a grimace.
“You know what? Good for you.” Toni tugged Dex into another bro-hug. “That takes a lot of bravery, and I’m proud of you, man.”
“Really?” With a pleased rumble, Dex leaned into Toni’s embrace. “Thanks, bro.”
Toni sniffled melodramatically and scratched the scruff of Dex’s neck. “Our kids are growing up, and it’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I want any of you talking to me for the rest of the day,” Rusty grumbled as he turned and grabbed the tray from under the counter so he could clear the dirty tables in the dining area.
“Bryce searched the internet for me.” Zef held up their phone, screen displaying several website links their human roommate, Bryce, had sent them. “It appears both terms are applicable to your feelings, Dex, though I support whatever label you wish to use.”
“Cool. Thanks, Zef.” Dex offered them two thumbs-up, and Zef returned the gesture with their lower hands, top hands typing away on their phone—responding to Bryce, Cya assumed.
“No matter what label you use, you’re in good company, kid.” Upsetting Dex’s backward hat, Toni ruffled the fur between his ears. “We’re all pretty gay here. Except for Tad. I think.”
“Not sure I’d want to know,” Cya confessed, and Toni’s black eyes widened as he nodded in agreement.
“Not enough to ever ask.”
“She scares me,” Dex whispered.
“She scares us all,” Toni said solemnly.
“You’re godsdamned right,” Tad—the cafe’s dishwasher extraordinaire—said gleefully from behind them, and all three of them screamed at her sudden appearance.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” Toni demanded, hand on his chest.
She winked one large, bulbous eye at the Elas, making him pale slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“C’mon, Tad, you can’t do that! I nearly shat myself,” Dex barked.
Honestly, so had Cya, but they managed to swallow that admission as they massaged their throat where it felt like their heart had lodged itself. “Precious deities.”
“She came from Quin’s office,” Zef said airily, still typing on their phone. “She was feeding Bob.”
“Oy, don’t spoil my fun, Zef!” The Anura scowled and waddled past them on webbed feet, everyone giving her a wide birth.
The Mantodea blinked owlishly down at her. “My apologies, Tadora. I was simply answering Toni’s question.”
“That’s okay. You know I can never stay mad at you.” She patted their arm, and Zef’s wings buzzed in pleasure as the crests of their light green cheeks darkened in a subtle blush.
“Did I tell you that Bryce accompanied me to the Mantodea Colony and met Toa Sian?” they said as they allowed Tad to lead them back into the kitchen. “He taught me a human line dance called The Watermelon Crawl. It was lovely.”
“You danced with Bryce and didn’t tell me?” Toni cried, chasing after the duo through the swinging doors. “I thought we were friends!”