6 #2
“Okay, so that takes care of a good chunk of tomorrow.” Blake paused, his marker halfway to the poster board. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay with doing that, Marin.”
“More than.” Marin smiled.
“Okay.” Blake nodded and scribbled ‘ Search Waterzone PM ’ inside the ‘ Monday ’ column. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to take on any of these burdens yourself. You’re already under enough stress as it is.”
“Thank you.” Marin continued to smile at him. “I appreciate it.”
“Let me know if you change your mind, okay?” Blake checked in before he went to write the poem on the top half of the poster.
“Nope, give me the pen,” Celeste interjected without warning, prying the marker from Blake’s hand. “Your handwriting’s shit and sitting here doing nothing is making me anxious.”
They divided the top of the poster into four columns as well. After several minutes, the poem occupied the farthest left, while the remaining three were labeled: Dying Wish, Place of Death, and Worthiness of Love.
With each addition, the weight in Blake’s chest quadrupled.
“Okay.” They concluded the final letter with a flourish before glancing between Marin and Blake. “So do we have any leads on these first two? Do you remember anything at all from when you were alive?”
Marin shook his head. “Not that’s coming to mind, no. One of the first things I can remember is asking you for a churro, actually.”
Celeste sighed. “Okay, so that’s a dead end.” They stared at Blake expectantly. “Any ideas? You’re the one with the psychology degree. Is there any particular way to jog an amnesiac’s memory?”
Blake tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I can’t say I’ve studied it at length, but from what I recall treatment for retrograde amnesia typically consists of CBT and OT—cognitive behavioral therapy and occupational therapy.
” He supplied at Celeste and Marin’s blank looks.
“Another form of amnesia is called a dissociative fugue, which can also be treated with therapy or medication.”
“Don’t suppose you have any spare antidepressants on you?” Celeste deadpanned.
“Nothing that isn’t prescribed to me,” Blake snorted in reply.
“What about doing things that are familiar to him?” Celeste suggested. “I’m not sure about the therapeutic efficacy of that, but it’s more feasible than finding a shrink we can explain all this ‘magic’ stuff to—unless you want to give him therapy?”
“No, that would violate several ethical boundaries.” Blake shook his head. “But I think you’re on the right track with doing familiar things.”
He looked back to face Marin. “If I had to guess… I’d say you’re about my age. Mid-twenties?”
Marin raised his hands and gave a hopeless shake of his head. “Sorry, I can’t recall.”
“And with him being a pygmalion, there’s no telling how old he actually was when he died.” Celeste sighed. “The person who made the merman sculpture could have decided to have him be any age—he could have been a geezer for all we know.”
Marin laughed. “Okay, well—at least I can confidently say I don’t think I was an old man.”
“Okay, so let’s go with mid-twenties,” Celeste decided. “What are some things we in our mid-twenties get up to?”
Work a dead-end job , Blake thought. He kept his mouth shut, since it would make a deeply unhelpful suggestion.
“Hang out with your friends?” he supplied instead. “Play videogames?”
“Smoke weed, social media, cook,” Celeste rattled off. “Watch garbage TV, go out to eat, clubbing—”
At the mention of “clubbing”, Marin immediately perked up. “Like dancing?”
“That sure got your attention!” Celeste grinned. “Okay, clubbing it is.”
They leaned down over the poster board and under Tuesday wrote: ‘ Clubbing PM.’ “Since you’ll be at Water Zone tomorrow night, I’ll take you guys out on Tuesday—we’ll get shitfaced and have a ball. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Marin agreed. “Thanks, Celeste.”
“Least I can do, after…” They made a flippant hand gesture, as if indicating the entire situation at hand. “I can list off some more stuff if you want, see if anything rings a bell?”
“I’m getting pretty tired, actually,” Marin said, glancing towards Blake. “This has been really helpful, but I think we ought to call it a night, especially if we’re going to check out that studio in the morning. I hope it isn’t too far?”
Blake shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that—nowhere would be too far. But it’s only a half-hour away, so we shouldn’t have to get up too early.”
“Okay, well,” Celeste said, jotting something down in each of the top columns and capping the pen. “I’ll start my search in the morning. Call or text if anything comes up.”
“Okay,” Blake agreed, craning to see what Celeste had written.
Under ‘ Dying Wish’ they had scrawled ‘ Find manufacturing info to search for a lead and jog memories’ and ‘ ditto ’ beneath ‘ Place of Death’ .
Chillingly, inside the ‘ Worthy of Love’ column, they had simply written: ‘ Don’t screw it up ’.
Something like ice water sloshed in Blake’s gut.
“Well, I’m out of this dump,” Celeste announced, slapping their lap and crossing the room to grab their purse. “Get some good sleep.”
“You, too,” Marin softly called after them. Blake shook himself, having just enough time to wish Celeste a safe drive before they departed.
After locking up behind them, Blake wasted no time flying back into action, determined not to let his anxiety get the better of himself. “I’ll be right back, I have to tidy up my room real quick.”
Marin nodded and settled back into the sofa. He propped his elbow up on the arm, resting his chin on his palm. “No worries. Take your time.”
Blake returned to his room, scouring the space for anything humiliating.
Within three seconds, he clocked the Sephiroth body pillow that was gifted to him as a half-joke and shoved it away in his closet.
A copy of a monster romance novel that his friend Alex had loaned him ended up banished to the depths as well.
Blake peeled the fitted sheet off of his bed and bunched up the rest of his bedclothes inside of it.
Since they didn’t have a kitchen table, he’d been making a nasty habit of eating dinner in bed while watching anime and there was no telling what kind of crumbs were in there or even how old they were.
He headed into the bathroom, groping around the linen closet for a fresh set of sheets.
Ryan materialized in the doorway moments later, blinking at his roommate. His caramel and chocolate-colored hair was piled into a bun threatening to spill off the top of his head, earlobes sagging from where he’d taken out his gauges for the night.
“Shit, sorry, did I wake you up?” Blake asked. Ryan shook his head, scrubbing at the scruff on his chin.
“Nuh-uh, you’re fine,” he said, shuffling over to the toilet. His mouth stretched open into a yawn. “Is there someone out in the living room? Did you bring someone home?”
“Uh,” Blake uttered. Neither of them had a problem with the other bringing friends or dates home as long as they were quiet, but it was still a little awkward.
Not to mention the fact that Ryan’s datemate had been there moments earlier.
“Yeah, actually. Friend of a friend. He needs a place to stay for a few nights. That cool?”
“Fine with me.” Ryan shrugged as he peed.
Blake thanked him and went back to his room to toss the fresh sheets onto the bed. He took a moment to check on Marin, who was still sitting on the couch, fiddling with the iPad.
After wrestling with his mattress for a solid fifteen minutes, Blake grabbed his pillow and headed out into the living room.
“Hey, bed’s ready,” he said, tossing the pillow onto the futon. He grabbed the throw blanket resting over the back. “I’ll sleep out here tonight, so don’t hesitate to grab me if you need anything.”
Marin set the iPad aside. “Wouldn’t it be a better idea if I slept with you?”
Blake blinked at him, taken aback. Marin cleared his throat. “I’m not having the easiest time with walking, and if I need assistance I wouldn’t want to have to shout and wake up your roommate.”
That… was pretty solid logic. Or maybe Blake was tired from the…
everything that had occurred and didn’t want to argue with Marin only for politeness’ sake.
He was so exhausted that his bones ached and if he had to sleep on the ground next to the bed in order to make Marin comfortable, then he didn’t have a problem with that.
“Yeah, no, you’re totally right,” Blake nodded, reaching out towards Marin. “Here, let me give you a hand.”
Marin wrapped his hand around Blake’s wrist, using it to pull himself to his feet, but he overcorrected and careened into Blake’s chest.
“Oof, you all right there?” Blake asked, helping to stabilize him.
“I’m fine,” Marin replied, voice muffled. He tapped on the broad expanse of Blake’s torso, thoughtful. “You’re a pretty solid guy, you know.”
Blake had a feeling that Marin wasn’t referring to his personality.
“Th-thanks,” he stuttered, still flustered at the attention. Most of the comments he got on his body were more along the lines of “Why are you so big and scary?” and “What protein powder do you snort for breakfast?” The change was… nice.
He guided Marin towards the bedroom, embarrassed again by its Spartan contents. At least Ryan had the decency to buy real furniture—all Blake had was a queen-sized bed on a box spring and a card table he used as a desk.
“Sorry,” he apologized without hesitation. Marin shook his head, kneeling on the mattress. He set the iPad down on the sheets and rolled over, making himself comfortable.
“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s a lot more interesting than staring at the back of the racing slides for twenty years—and much more comfortable than the bow of that ship, too. What side of the bed do you sleep on?”
“What?” Blake asked. Marin scooted over to one side of the bed, quirking an eyebrow up at him.
“Do you have a preference?” he asked, pointing towards the empty side.
“I was gonna sleep on the floor,” Blake admitted, taken aback. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I think this is much more comfortable,” Marin said, pressing his palm into the mattress. “It’s very soft and I don’t mind if you lie beside me.”
“I…” Blake hesitated. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with someone—chances were, it was back when he used to hook up with his friend Jace during their sophomore year of college. They often crowded together on an extra-long twin, almost lying on top of each other.
Blake had convinced himself that buying the queen mattress was a good idea for his height and how much he liked to spread out while he slept, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t also been thinking about the future when he bought it. That it would be nice to have someone to sleep beside him.
But between working at Water Zone, classes, TA work during the year, and hammering away at his thesis, there hadn’t been any time to find someone. Dates were few and far between and Blake felt like he was aging out of dating around for fun. He wanted a partner.
“ These four days you have to prove your heart, ” the vase had read.
What did that even mean? Had his kiss somehow infused Marin with love for him and now Blake had to prove himself to earn it?
Did it mean he had to get Marin to fall in love with him in only four days if he wanted to save his life?
Or was “prove your heart” achieved through fulfilling the other requirements?
There were all sorts of ethical quandaries about the situation that Blake didn’t even want to think of.
Without warning, there was a gentle touch on Blake’s calf. He looked down to find Marin rubbing it, smiling up at him.
“You’re thinking too hard about it,” he said. “Lie down.”
Blake was tired. He’d been up for hours, messed around at Water Zone all night, somehow managed to get an enchanted fiberglass merman to come to life, and now said merman’s life was at stake. What was more was that they had to be up in a few hours to visit the art gallery.
And what was he supposed to say to that imploring tone?
“As long as you’re comfortable with it,” Blake checked. Marin smiled and nodded his consent.
Satisfied, Blake went back out to the living room to grab his pillow, turned off the lights, and settled down on the mattress next to Marin.
The streetlamp shined in through the slats in the blinds, illuminating the merman in golden bars.
One settled over his eyes: they were a glossy shade of black, the color of the sea at night.
Marin smiled at him, using his forearm to prop his cheek up.
“There now,” he said, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind Blake’s ear. For a moment he thought that Marin was going to lean in and kiss him, but instead he tapped Blake’s nose.
“Go to sleep,” he said. And Blake obeyed.