Seth
"Are you sure... you're sure about this..?" I ask uncertainly, leaning close to Joshua.
We're in my room, and it's dark again, save for the flashlight I bought at the grocery store this morning. (It was a bit of an impulse buy; I saw it and thought of Joshua's question about the lights earlier.) It's a thin little black thing, a cord for your wrist at the end, while it twists at the head to turn on. It's bright enough, and we've left it on the floor, almost forgotten now.
The light illuminates our faces from below, and it only makes the atmosphere around us feel more chilling. Because there's something more than just anticipation that's having goosebumps prickling over my skin. There's something eerie, something taboo, something dangerous.
We shouldn't be trying this. And yet we are.
I've never seen Joshua's face lit up like this before, this ghastly pallor, as if, of the two of us... he's the skeleton.
A nervous shudder runs up my spine.
"Of course I'm sure." Joshua answers me, his gaze fixed on the floor between us. "I wouldn't have convinced you of this if I wasn't."
"Yes, but..." I eye him with worry, letting my sentence trail off into nothingness. He doesn't seem as sure as what he's projecting. This blistering confidence feels like a bluff.
His shoulders are tensed up, and he sits cross-legged, his hands bunched into fists that press into his ankles. He has his back against the radiator cracking with flakey white paint, facing me and the bed, which is across from him. The foot of the bed is at my back, and we've moved all the clothes on the floor to a messy pile near the dresser. It's the cleanest my room's ever been.
"Just do it." Joshua says sharply, bringing his gaze up to mine. "The sooner you do, the sooner we can get this done."
I let out a breath. I can see how nervous he is in the small light, how clammy his skin seems. But he's not going to back down, not now. I can see this, too, in his eyes, in the way he challenges me to do as I promised. So I can't let him down either, even with this serious doubt of my own.
We're never going to be completely ready to try this, so I guess we just need to jump in head first.
Emphatically, not breaking eye contact, Joshua shifts his arms behind his back. I hesitate. In the end, I do as he's asked. I lean forward, reaching out and around him with a ratty rope pulled from a kitchen drawer.
("Guess there really is use in you being a hoarder." Joshua had commented when he saw it, smiling a weak little smile. His face had been so pale, even then.)
He focuses on relaxing his shoulders as I work around him, and I can feel him steadying his breaths as he tilts his head forward, hiding his face near my neck. In an unpracticed hand, I wrap the rope a couple times around his wrists in a figure-eight-like pattern, then through the coils of the radiator a couple more times, until I have just enough rope to tie it off.
I hesitate another moment, close enough to him that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, the tension coiled in his muscles. Then I pull back.
Looking into his eyes, I say, "We don't have to do it like this, you know... We can..."
"No." Joshua says, meeting my gaze. Our faces are so close, and the space between us is like a tether pulled taught, holding us only so far apart.
His gaze wanders away from my eyes, to the side of my face, and I know what he's looking at. All my injuries have healed now, but where I sustained that burn, well, it looks like there's going to be something of a scar. The skin there is healing slightly discoloured, a grey-ish, mint-ish color, and I'm still not entirely used to it yet.
It isn't the permanent damage that makes me feel heavy when I look at it though— it's the constant reminder for Joshua. Something that'll bring up bad memories every time he looks at it. And at this point, the last thing this boy needs is more bad memories.
I can only hope we'll both be able to get used to it, one day.
It's this scar Joshua is looking at when he murmurs, "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Sundo."
"You won't." I insist, trying to be as firm as possible to convince him. Gently, I press a hand against the side of his face. "You know you can't. I just.. I just don't want you feeling trapped. You should be able to leave if it becomes too much for you..."
"No, I shouldn't. I shouldn't run anymore, Sundo, and you know it. It's all I've been doing. So I'm going to stay here, and I'm going to face this, even if I don't like it. I'm doing this."
His eyes are like chips of hard amber in the lamp light as he gazes at me. And they wear me down. Finally, I lean back, taking my hand with me, leaving him his space. He shivers at the absence I leave behind, and his head falls forward.
He doesn't trust himself. I can see now more than ever, and I understand more now than when he explained it to me. He doesn't trust himself, in the moment, not to run when faced again with... me. So he's tying himself down. Literally.
But that makes me nervous for another reason, because I never once feared for myself. I trust him. It's me whom I don't trust.
Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I hoarsely whisper, "I could kill you."
Joshua looks up, and the fear I know so well flickers in his eyes. But he squashes it; grabs it and ties it down with his wrists.
Tilting his chin up, his eyes flash and he says, "Then don't."
I hold his gaze for as long as I can. Then, when I can bare it no longer, my shoulders slump with defeat. I promised him I'd do this, and if he's still dead set on going through with it, I have to go through it.
This is good for me as well, I know. I try to focus on that part: how this isn't just for him, but for me also. Double therapy, he called it. And it's only for one night. If it doesn't work, we never have to try this again.
I just really hope this works.
I have no illusions about how dangerous this is: I know exactly how dangerous this is, and the amount of trust Joshua is putting in me is... it's... it's astounding. I'm hardly exaggerating when I say he's putting his life in my hands.
I don't know how the idea of it sits with me, but a thick, conflicting bubble of emotion has settled in my chest, and I'm just waiting for it to pop at exactly the wrong moment.
We're doing this. We are. And it's going to be alright.
Giving Joshua one last, long, meaningful look, I back away completely, scooting back the couple of feet it takes till my back is against the foot of the bed. I pause a moment, then take ahold of the ends of my loosely buttoned flannel, lifting it up and over my head, tossing it aside.
I've stepped far enough out of the flash light's circle of light that it hardly touches me, and yet I notice Joshua's gaze still on me, eyeing the skin and the markings I've exposed. His gaze draws heavily up to my face after a brief moment, and he watches me expectantly.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I reach out inside myself, searching for that part of me, searching for what I need to pull that part of me to the outside.
(I wonder, faintly in the back of my mind, if I'll ever be able to just pull this form on as easily as a hideous, frightening cloak. I don't even know myself if I want that.)
As I find that part of me, I take ahold of it, and I think of one thought and one thought only.
Don't hurt Joshua.
And I let go.
Joshua
I am an idiot. A huge, hulking idiot.
I knew I would hate the idea as soon as the first seeds of it began to sprout in my mind, but now that I'm here, actually doing it, I can't believe how I could possibly have thought I'd survive this.
As Sundo backs away from me, I feel his absence more acutely than ever. I want to reach out and pull him back, but I can't, because I made him tie me down. (Like an idiot.)
This is a terrible idea. More terrible than any I've had before.
But I can only sit here and carry through with it, because there's no way I'm letting myself chicken out, even when Sundo has been trying so earnestly to get me to do just that.
The rope is already itchy against my wrists, and I want to tug against it, not used to the sensation. Why did I ever think this was a good idea again?
My heart is racing in my chest, and the feel of the rope against me skin is making this so much more real; I can't convince myself that this isn't happening, because it is. It clearly is. And it's terrifying.
I feel far more helpless and cornered than I ever could have imagined, and if I thought I'd be able to withstand this, I'm beginning to worry that maybe I overestimated what I can handle. Clenching my sweaty fists under the ropes, I desperately try to fight the swell of panic rising in my throat like bile. We haven't even technically begun and I'm already freaking out.
Calm down, Joshua, calm down. You can do this.
Sundo's moved away from me, and he's so far away, yet still so close. So terrifyingly close.
Looking across the room at him, everything feels like it comes crashing down on me in one big realisation. I knew this all already—it's my plan, after all—but seeing this now, being here, the moment before it all happens, it's more real than ever.
I'm going to be trapped in a room with him as his monster for a night.
I don't know if I can do it.
I try to distract myself from this, watching as Sundo pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. Foolishly, my gaze still catches on his form, on those strange, other-worldly markings drawn all over his body. As I realise where my gaze is headed, I look back up to his face.
And he looks back with those imploring, uncertain eyes. One last chance to back down, and my heart aches with the need to take it, to tell him, you know what, this is too scary, I don't want to do this after all.
But my mouth stays firmly shut.
Sundo closes his eyes.
As it always does, it begins with the sound of cracking bones filling the air.
What's more chilling than the sound is the realisation that I'm ready for it, that I'm beginning to expect it.
Shudders run up my spine as I watch, unable to tear my gaze away as Sundo's expression begins to contort and tighten. His brow furrows and his shoulders roll up, and suddenly he's falling forward with a gasping grunt. He just barely manages to catch himself on his palms, and he grimaces.
He cracks his eyes open, thin slivers of emerald irises illuminated in the darkness, watching me. Already those eyes are glassy, and they hardly seem to hold any recognition at all.
He stays on his hands and knees, gritting his teeth and groaning deep in his throat. His shoulders roll up and backwards and his back arches as his spine begins to curl up from his skin with a sickening sound.
His muscles bunch and ooze from his skin, dripping, slick like oil, as his bones slough to the surface.
What's worse than what is happening to his body is what is happening to his face. His expression winces as he grinds his teeth, and I can't tear my eyes away. I can't stop looking into those eyes of his, even as they sink into his face, into that skeletal mask that pulls and stretches and tears out of his skin. His teeth grow and sharpen, his tongue elongates and lolls, and his body coils up on itself in pain.
Dark hair bristles down his neck, over his shoulders and his biceps. A skeletal tail whips out behind him, cracking against the bed's footboard, and claws pad against the wood flooring, digging into its surface. His knees crack and his shins bend the wrong way, stretching out behind him as his talons begin to drag across the floor.
The air seems to thicken and grow with him. The fabric of his pants stretch and tear, and it's a sound that sticks in my mind, cutting through the terrible grating of his deep, ragged pants.
The transformation seems, somehow, like it'll never stop; this horrible moment like a held breath that I'll never be relieved from. And yet I know when he's done, because his eyes are nothing but glowing orbs within those deep, dark sockets, gazing out at me.
His huge chest heaves with his rough pants, his ribcage like an exoskeleton, expanding and shrinking with each exhale. A cage made of oil-slicked bone.
I can't move. Like every other time I've seen it, seen him, I'm paralyzed, and I can't look away.
Stringy saliva drips from his fangs and drools onto the floor as his maw gapes, and slowly, he tilts his head down, leveling me a look that I can not understand, not with that stolid skeletal face. I feel myself beginning to tremble, and my mind darts out in all directions.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
It's a frantic mantra in my head, and I tug at my restraints, my gaze locked into the creature as my mind feels like it shuts down. Tugging, yanking, straining to get free, cursing myself, my breathing hitching up into tight wheezes.
The rope bites into my skin, and I can only think: I'm trapped. I'm going to die. He's going to eat me and I served myself right up to him on a paint-chipped platter. I'm going to die.
I can hardly breathe. I can't tear my gaze from him.
Breathe. Breathe.
Another part of me urges me to calm down, and I struggle to find something calm. He promised he wouldn't hurt me!
But what is a promise now?! This thing isn't Sundo.
It is him, it is him.
It is not.
The creature is watching me steadily as its own breath evens out. Leaning its head forward, it puts forward one bony, clawed hand. A sharp, hiccuping gasp escapes me, and I lean back, my spine pressing painfully against the cracking radiator behind me.
One step follows another, those glowing orbs boring into me as it approaches. It knocks the flashlight aside with one hand, and the thing goes spinning to my left, throwing light across the room. It ends up facing the wall away from us, and in its absence, the room feels darker, more constricting, more suffocating.
The beast is right there. I feel it stop right in front of me, its heavy breath hot against my face, and I'm leaning back as hard as I can. But there's nowhere to go. My wrists are practically crushed behind me, and my eyes sting as I look up at it, unable to even blink. I don't realise why they're stinging until I feel the wetness of my cheeks, and I realise I'm crying.
Realising doesn't help; I'm still completely helpless to stop them. If anything, they only come harder now.
Sniveling and whimpering, I sit beneath this huge creature, shaking like a leaf in the wind, and in this moment, I'm eight years old again. Crying and waiting for this monster to come after me next.
But the creature does not come for me. It does nothing, at first. It regards me with an unreadable gaze for what feels like an eternity. Then it cranes its neck forward, leaning down to sniff and wuffle the air near my tear-stained face. A whine escapes me, and I can't even tilt my head any farther back from it—I feel the metal ridges of the radiator digging into my scalp. I've pushed back as far as I literally can.
Its glowing, sickly green eye is so close to me that I suddenly can't take it anymore. It opens those gaping jaws, its tongue rolling from its mouth as it brings those teeth so close to me, and I squeeze my own eyes shut, whimpering.
This was a terrible, terrible idea. I'm going to die now, and it's my own fault completely.
I hear as its breath that drags past those fangs. Shrinking in on myself, my heart a hammer in my chest, wailing for release, I brace myself for the pain.
But it never comes.
Hot and wet, the sensation comes dragging up my cheek, and I scream.
My eyes snap open, and I stare in surprise at this beast, which has reared back, looking at me with equal surprise— surprise that I can actually see on its skeletal face. Its tongue lolls from the side of its mouth, and my cheek tingles, searing heat radiating up my jaw.
And as I realise what happened, my brain shuts down.
It licked me.
This terrifying, deadly monster, it... he... licked me.
"Why would you do that?" I cry, my voice overflowing, pouring out of me all at once. It sounds hoarse and cracked, and I want to snatch it back as soon as the words leave my lips.
The monster just stares at me, opening its jaws and rolling its tongue back into its mouth. It doesn't respond.
"Are you just going to stare at me?" My voice cracks, and as much as every nerve in my body is screaming at me to shut up, I can't stop. This jittery feeling is coursing through me at full blast, and I'm running on it, shivering and heated.
It continues to watch me, tilting its head to the side. Then, by way of reply, a low growl rumbles from its chest, and it jolts through me, frightening me so much that my mouth immediately snaps shut.
Pressing one clawed hand down by my knee, it nudges closer, and I hold my breath as its skeletal face comes inches from mine again.
It opens its jaws, its teeth flashing, and it... licks me again. That huge black tongue drags up the side of my face, lapping up the salty wetness there, and I sit frozen in shock. It's like the world stops turning for that moment.
Then my entire face starts to heat up, as though set on fire. The sensation is making my head spin, though why it's making me blush, I can hardly fathom. I try to jerk my head away from its sticky tongue, but I only succeed in banging my head against the radiator behind me. I hiss, immediately drawing forward again, only to be met with the face of this alien monster. My nose bumps into its snout, and I swear to every higher power, if I didn't know better, I'd say the thing is grinning at me.
I lean away from it again, cursing, but there's nowhere for me to go. I want to scream.
Instinctively, I try to bring a hand up and rub at the ache radiating through my skull, but I only manage to yank at the rope, and the burns rubbed into my wrists smart.
A strange growling, whining sound rumbles right before my face, and the creature lowers its head again, nudging the side of its mask-like skeleton beneath my chin. I stiffen as it proceeds to nuzzle against my neck, moving its head against my chest as it shuffles closer, crouching with awkwardly elongated limbs before me.
A head of tangled, inky black hair tickles under my nose, but I can't even react to it, because I'm struggling against the racing thoughts in my brain telling me, Oh, God, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die—
It doesn't stop this affectionate rubbing, for all the panic it's causing me, and it must hear how fast my heart is racing like a rabbit's in my chest, because the creature begins to coo. A soft, soothing sound I've heard before, from the last time I was this close to the beast, at the rainout. I do not want to be calmed by the sound, but despite myself, my heart rate slows considerably.
The cooing becomes a low rumble in its throat, a purr, as it sits up, meeting my gaze with its jaw slightly open. It looks like it's really grinning now.
I grimace at the thing, and its purring only grows louder. It bumps its muzzle against my chin again, practically giving me a heart attack, and it leans close to loll its awful, sticky tongue up my neck and the side of my face. It's so close, I can feel the points of its fangs against my cheek.
I'm shivering now, unable to stop, and the creature pulls back to eye me.
"Please stop doing that." I whisper weakly, meeting its eye with tremulous difficulty.
Whether the thing understands me or not, I can't tell, but it gives me a huff that blows at my bangs. My lips twist down in a grimace, and still the creature ignores my discomfort to settle down before me, getting itself awfully comfortable as it rests its giant head in my lap.
"H-hey...!" I choke with surprise. "No, you can't— can't do that. Don't. Get off of me." I try to tell it off, but I can't find any firmness in my voice, and I certainly can't find the courage to nudge it off with my leg. I can't even move.
The creature opens one glowing eye to peer up at me with. I pale under this gaze, and it grumbles at the sight. It seems to decide I'm not worth any more of its time, because it closes the eye again, allowing the eye socket to go dark as it settles in once more. Apparently it's decided my lap is a perfectly viable pillow.
I'm finally starting to believe I'm not going to die, but now, at this point, I want to.
I can't do anything as it lays there, its weighty head pressing into my thigh, nor can I work up the courage to try anything as its heavy breathing slowly evens out, and I realise it's fallen asleep.
I can't do anything. I can't move it, I can't wake it up. My own fear is tying me up more than the ropes are. I can't even relax, as every part of me is screaming simultaneously with fight-or-flight hormones that I can do nothing with, stuck here and forced by myself to stay here with it, to get used to it, at least until Sundo changes back.
One night, we'd decided. This was my plan.
But we've already established how much of a terrible plan this is.
What a long night this is turning out to be.
.
.
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It's finally September and I am loving it. 🍂🎃
(Someone brought to my attention the question: is this a monster loving story? And the answer? Quite possibly, a little bit.)
(Yes.)
The song is Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots, you know the one. :)
As always, your comments keep me going, so please don't hesitate to share your thoughts, no matter how small! I assure you, it'll probably make me incredibly excited just to hear what you have to say.
Thanks for reading and I hope your day/night is cosmically great!