Chapter Text
Marcille holds onto the tartan pull-out couch, abruptly jostled by Laios bolting up from their spot. They wouldn’t get that excited over a courtesy call, and nobody ordered room service, so what gives? “You’re missing it!” she calls, pointing to the alligator gar currently flopping around on the grainy flatscreen. Laios’ back doesn’t care.
Ah, but in her surprise, she’d totally forgotten the suspicious-ass way Laios kept checking their phone. That wasn’t a usual Laios behavior. So that must mean…
“It’s… the- The Guy!” she gasps, preparing herself.
A list of things Marcille knows about The Guy: when they dragged Laios out last week, he met The Guy and hung out for at least an hour; Laios is somewhat shy about The Guy, and hadn’t told her his name; The Guy might come to play D&D with them; judging by what Laios admitted, The Guy made out with them or something, and it was probably romantic. Another thing: now The Guy is back for more.
It may be an important occasion (binging TV; eating frozen Margaritaville sides) but Marcille forces herself to focus. Laios deserved to feel confident about The Guy, and even though Marcille is a tiny bit curious too, what better way to ease things along than to make herself as friendly as possible?
The moment everybody files back in, Marcille eagerly pats the couch. “Come on over, don’t be shy! You must be Laios’ friend!”
“And you’re Marcille!” Although he looks a little flustered, The Guy is not what Marcille expected. He’s wearing business casual… Does he work here? Smiling as though meeting an old friend, he ventures towards the couch. “I’d love to. That’s an incredible hat, by the way.”
Marcille puts a hand to her reality TV hat, a ball-cap with an embroidered patch of a jumping salmon and women want me, fish want me too underneath. “Haha, y-yeah it’s just a joke! I- uh.”
“This is Kabru!” Laios announces, plopping back down on the far left, as though he’d already mentioned that to Marcille and it was self-explanatory. “I wanna finish this episode out, and then we can maybe have a tabletop refresher? We were just getting really into it.”
“Completely understood,” Kabru assures them, moving next to Laios.
Falin, holding another plate of fried seafood from the toaster oven, returns to Marcille’s side. “Help yourself to this, okay? We have more than enough. It’s kind of a guilty pleasure,” she says, setting the scallops down on the battered coffee table.
Marcille can’t pay attention to the wonders of the ocean under these conditions. Her mind tries to squirm in a million directions. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches how Kabru gets comfortable, his thigh touching Laios’ without hesitation. Despite his smooth outfit and nametag—he definitely works here, and he’s ditching a shift even—he doesn’t seem full of himself. His eyes are this interesting blue color, darting all over the suite as if he’s trying to memorize the layout, fascinated by everything he’s seeing.
Maybe he is nervous after all, and he’s just good at hiding it. Marcille takes a deep breath through her nose, glancing up at Falin.
Sensing her need for reassurance as ever, Falin leans over and smiles, reaching down to squeeze Marcille’s hand. This is awesome, that squeeze says, this is great so far, do your thing!
The thing was, Laios never did this—the whole hooking-up deal. Whoever Kabru is, he likes Laios. That’s enough for Marcille to suspend any judgement and think, f*ck it, he’s probably cool.
“Laios is humoring me right now with the snack choice,” she says, stabbing another piece of calamari. “Even though we spend a lot of time camping out or in rooms like this, he’s like, an expert at making real food on a hot plate.”
“These were also on sale at Walmart, so we bought fifteen of them,” Falin adds, grinning. “The freezer is full. But Laios can cook stuff like this easy.”
Laios fails to disguise his embarrassment. “You guys don’t need to lay it on, I try my best is all. I just think it’s fun!”
Kabru takes the bait. “Damn, that’s amazing. I don’t get to cook from scratch very often. The most I do is bother myself with hotel restaurant kitchens, and I’m not making anything, just hovering over somebody’s shoulder.” He pauses, then forges ahead. “Y’know, I got a chance this week to find your show and I listened to a couple of episodes! I like it a lot! It’s honestly incredible to me that when you’re out camping and doing urban exploration you can still cook real food.”
Oh—so he’s a listener! Marcille fights the urge to feel self-conscious, but it doesn’t make sense. Did he only start listening because he met Laios, not the other way around? That must be the case.
“Hey, a fan! What do you think, are you enjoying it so far?” Falin rescues Laios, who briefly mutters something shyly, their eyes lit up with anticipation but their face a little red.
Marcille hears her voice squeak out before she can think twice. “Uh, what episodes? Please tell me you started after Episode 30…” As awkward as it would be if Kabru was a fan before meeting Laios, or any of them, this was a much different cause for concern.
Confused, his mouth quirking asymmetrically, Kabru seems at a loss for words. “I started in a random place, mid-80’s or something. Dare I ask why?”
sh*t! Now she’s gone and done it. Immediately feeling sweaty, Marcille wipes her palms on her basketball shorts (stolen from Falin, of course). “Well! It’s just? Like, we didn’t want to take them down, but in those earlier episodes I was a lot more intense, and I definitely said some stuff that was cringe—uh, in poor taste. We actually did take one episode down, it was… super tactless on my part…”
Kabru suddenly laughs, bending forward and cupping a hand over his mouth. “I am not… Ah, okay, I’m not gonna cancel you. Whatever it was, I didn’t hear it. For what it’s worth, you guys are white and you have a podcast, there’s going to be a notes app apology in there somewhere. That’s on you. I was going to say though, I do really like it! You all have such wonderful chemistry, even when you argue about dumb sh*t. I think I learned a lot too, about so many different random things.”
Unbothered by Marcille’s outburst, Laios—with a giddy expression—puts his hand on Kabru’s knee. “That’s awesome, I—I had no idea you’d actually go listen? You have no idea how… how happy this makes me…”
“I do,” Falin adds, squeezing Marcille’s hand again. “You just made their year. It’s so cool when we get to talk to someone in real life who listens. And for what it’s worth, I think we try our best to always keep improving the show and be respectful and, like, apologize when we f*ck it up.”
“So whose team are you on? Out of the three of us?” Laios again, putting Marcille back on the spot. Why did she think he needed her help talking to this guy? As long as they could talk about the podcast, or a related topic, Laios was never going to slow down, and Kabru seems to be enjoying himself so far.
Kabru leans back, still smiling lopsidedly. “Let me think about how to phrase things. I’m the kind of guy who likes to think aloud at times like these, I hope I’m not interrupting the show too much?”
“Please, it’s okay, there are more episodes where this came from,” Marcille says, even though she is still a tiny bit steamed. The next segment is a deep sea exploration, which are her favorite.
“I’m not superstitious, but I do believe in a lot of what you talk about… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a ghost. Do I think they’re real? Yeah, I think there’s truth to these concepts.” Kabru taps his fingertips together, then glances at Marcille. “Still. I can’t help but be a skeptical person. Even though I’m certain there are things beyond the pale, I need evidence too. Evidence that most people are going to believe, and not just a good story.”
Marcille almost can’t process what he’s saying. “Huh? Wait, you’re not gonna side with one of them?”
Shrugging, Kabru gives Falin and Laios an apologetic look. “That’s basically it. You’re always saying you’re a hater, which is funny, there are just benefits to being a hater. For what you guys are trying to do, I want to see how and why you’re getting evidence, making a concrete case.”
“That’s totally fair,” Falin says. “Maybe I’d feel that way too, I just never really got the chance to not believe in spirits or whatever. And I know I’d love an explanation for why I’m sensitive to these things! Sometimes I wish I could call in to the show myself and ask if Marcille would investigate me. Haha.”
Marcille swallows her protest. Falin’s style of flirting can read almost innocuously sometimes. “I bet you do,” she replies, trying not to sound too into that idea, even though she is. Laios never seems to pick up on this kind of thing, so it’s fine in Marcille’s book.
But just her luck—when she gets another glance at Kabru, there’s a smug, knowing look about him, as though he’s silently saying nice one, very smooth, we get it you guys are gay. He doesn’t actually say anything, but Marcille still feels embarrassed.
“Well, if you get a chance, our most recent episodes are all about stuff we’ve looked into locally!” Laios chimes in. “I know my angle is that I’ll believe pretty much anything, but we’re really here because we know this area and it feels like our best chance of picking something up. We’ve all had kinda weird sh*t happen to us in town, it’s like, why we wanted to make a show to begin with. And our whole team can be in-person, which is awesome. Hey, that reminds me, are you from around here? I just remembered I never asked, and I really wanted to!”
Suddenly, Marcille wants to know too. Who is this guy? Not in a suspicious way, not entirely. He’s an interesting person. Holding herself back, Marcille vacantly watches a flock (school? herd?) of squid scoot through the inky black ocean onscreen.
Kabru sounds amused. “I am, but my mom and I left when I was about ten. I came back for college though, and stuck around since. Obviously. We used to live over on this side, but further back on the hill, if you know where the pick your own strawberries place is? Near there.”
“Oh, we went a few times in the summer! Marcille and I did,” Falin says. “I know kinda where you’re talking about. So many trees over there! Not like the other hill is naked, but there’s just so much more forest on this side.”
“I think it’s cause the slope is steeper,” Laios says, thoughtfully. “Fewer big roads? And more hiking spots, longer trails. And farms, yeah. But I guess there are farms further back on the eastern side too… Like that horse farm by the grocery store back there?”
Kabru nods, not interrupting or flipping the script just yet. Marcille can appreciate that. Maybe that’s what she finds compelling: Kabru gives off the sense that no matter what, he is truly interested in hearing what others have to say. He wants to know, he’s invested too.
“So while you’re here in town, you guys are using my hotel as your home base?” Kabru teases. “Okay, not my hotel, but you know. It feels like you’ve really made yourselves cozy.”
Laios seems delighted by this. “We’re in for the long haul! We have so many things we wanted to check out, and we really like it here too. This is also cheaper than a regular long-term rental, because Falin got some kind of deal…”
Grinning a little, Falin waves Laios off. “All I’m doing is putting my skills to use. What happened was the owner thinks this place is really haunted, and when she found out about our show and stuff, she kinda…”
Marcille leaps back in. “It was awesome, actually. She was like, whoa, you’re so talented, can you look into things around the property? And we didn’t even ask for the discount, she was all, this place is so bad, people leave all these reviews saying its haunted, if you look for ghosts while you’re here you can have a reduced rate! And even I couldn’t say no to that.”
“You’re serious,” Kabru says slowly, looking at all three of them. “Holy sh*t! She really thinks that—I’ve seen the weird reviews, I just thought it was over-kill. I spend a lot of time here, and between us, I have no idea…”
“We haven’t found anything! Yet!” Laios sits forward, clearly all fired up now. “But what do you think, as a local witness… potential witness?”
“Don’t put him on the spot like that!” Marcille protests.
But Kabru doesn’t seem to care. He leans into Laios’ space, oddly relaxed. “So now you’re interrogating me? I just think sh*t breaks a lot because it’s old. All the décor… and most of the property… none of it’s changed since it was built like 40 years ago. I fix a lot of it. Also, ugly aesthetic choices tend to creep people out, put them on edge. Some of the rooms have this feeling like… you’re staying in some old person’s house, sleeping in their bed, but if the blankets and carpets were different, it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Okay, that’s kinda my take,” Falin says, jostling Marcille lightly. “I usually don’t take Marcy’s skeptic playbook, and maybe I missed something, but I’ve only had one or two really weird feelings the whole time we’ve been here. Like, usually just a ‘something is watching me’ sensation. I want to do my due diligence, though!”
Laios pouts, an expression that—when directed at Kabru—gives Marcille a really weird feeling totally unrelated to ghosts. What’s going on? Why are they so comfortable around each other? Marcille knows there’s something she has missed. But what?
“Aw, really?” Laios asks. “You sure? I like the decorations though! They’re unique!”
Kabru laughs and shakes his head, patting Laios’ shoulder gently. “There’s no accounting for outliers. When I’m here at three am looking at some of these weird sculptures, even I get freaked out! And the creepy-ass pool… Yeah. If there’s any way I can help you guys with your investigating though, I’d be so excited and honored. I do see a lot of unexplainable sh*t, and I’ve heard lots of stories.”
He means it, Marcille thinks. If Kabru was after recognition, he’d probably aim a little higher than a podcast like theirs. That’s not the thing that’s bothering her.
As the other three take the conversation and run with it, Marcille zones completely out. Laios takes out his phone to show Kabru something… probably some of the home-brew classes and player races he’s written. They don’t need her for that, do they? Pulling at one of her braids, Marcille struggles with the fact pattern. She might be suspicious of Kabru for no reason, or just uneasy with the novelty of the situation. She’d even thought Laios might need a wingman—wingwoman—or something.
Maybe that’s it: for a near stranger, Laios really is opening everything up to Kabru. Getting into his space, and offering much more of himself so freely than he usually does around new people these days. Making a concerted effort to fold Kabru into the group. And the way their hands keep touching… Marcille can’t sense electromagnetism or anything the way people like Falin can, but that doesn’t mean her senses are dulled to whatever the f*ck is going on here.
“Heyy, Falin, wanna go out on the balcony for a sec?” Marcille blurts, standing up halfway in an awkward crouch. “I just remembered, uh, you were gonna show me how the new vape I got works?”
Falin pauses, looking up from the literal spreadsheet where they’ve started drafting possible characters for Kabru to play. “Show you?” she asks, bemused. “You can get it, it’s not very hard!”
“But I like, need help?” Marcille tries batting her eyelashes, which comes out like a badly timed blink. “You’re the expert, I don’t want to mess up…”
Laughing fondly—what an incredible sound still, after all these years!—Falin gives Laios their phone back. “Yeah, okay silly. We’ll be back in a minute!”
The night air is incredibly sticky and humid, smelling of forgotten plastic and the distant green of real foliage. Marcille sighs heavily, leaning on the metal railing and allowing her eyes to adjust. These balcony rooms all look down into the hotel’s central courtyard, a perfect square mostly covered by a roof of opaque plexiglass tiles that remind Marcille of a greenhouse. Some moonlight seeps in through hatches around the perimeter, shining down on, as Kabru called it, the ‘creepy-ass pool.’ In the far corner, by the laundry room, a collection of filthy pool chairs huddles in their shame. The green square of still water, leaf-litter and dead mayflies oozes forbiddingly.
Falin stretches her shoulders, sliding the door shut. “You don’t need help, do you?” she asks teasingly, watching Marcille fiddle with a brand-new cart of TH-0.
“Uh, no,” Marcille admits, “I just needed a conference! What’s up with them? Don’t you think they’re a little familiar? I thought we were…” She pauses to actually take a hit. Verisimilitude. “Supposed to be helping?”
Falin snorts, shrugging. “Helping Laios? I mean, I think you’re doing a great job. I don’t know if he needs help, though… Hm. I see what you mean.”
Marcille blows smoke through her nose, feeling dragon-ish. In the pale green-blue shadows, it looks ghostly. She watches it drift, over-laying other shuttered blinds and empty balconies. “I don’t want to make stuff up, but I feel this tension in there… They’re so close, and Laios has so much energy, but it’s like he’s covering for something? Trying to restrain himself?” She feels her face getting warmer and shakes it off, lowering her voice. “I guess I… Falin, do you think… they like… did it…”
Blinking, Falin co*cks her head. “Oh, I mean yeah!” she replies, not sugarcoating it at all. “They like, for sure f*cked. I’m pretty sure. I assumed at least, from what Laios told me.”
Marcille just stands there, mouth agape. This isn’t weird. She literally can’t un-see it now though. “Wh-hey, wait, seriously?!” She still stage-whispers, because it feels better. “Well, what do we do? How am I supposed to watch River Monsters now?”
“Do?” Falin puts her arm around Marcille, pulling her into comfortable warmth. “It’s definitely a new vibe, but I think it’s nice. We can try to give them some space. Is this just because—”
“Laios doesn’t normally do this? And it’s gross to think—Augh. It’s j-just slightly too explicit, you understand!” Marcille groans, sinking down a little. “We all have our repression cross to bear, I guess. I’ll be normal about it.”
“Plus, Kabru seems cool!” Falin says, encouragingly. “I think we’ll all get along. He likes Laios, after all. That much I can tell without even having to ask.”
[…]
Laios has always been aware of his overactive imagination. If he’s not careful, any opportunity to daydream opens up a new dimension in his head, like jumping through a portrait Super Mario 64-style and winding up in Wikipedia World… or something. But he’s never, to his recollection, fabricated a whole person. That would be nuts.
That didn’t keep him from wondering at least once every day for the last week, “Did that happen? Was Kabru real?” He started wondering pretty much the moment he’d wandered back up to the bar, feeling simultaneously giddy and in disbelief, the moment Kabru was out of sight. Then he wondered, if that all really had happened, then why? It wasn’t like him to get into situations.
Then again, of course it had happened. Everything about Kabru was so vivid. Laios wouldn’t be able to make any of that up. They can’t remember what he was wearing, sure, but they can easily call up his sharp smile, and the softness of his skin, or the eager, warm notes of his voice. Certainly, Laios couldn’t have imagined the way they’d been second-guessing everything, right up until Kabru had outright just asked that—like reading Laios’ mind, or the wordless undercurrent of urges they couldn’t voice.
So it was real. Laios thought about it quietly while researching episodes, recording a lore segment, taking a shower, working out, and so on and so forth. He had no idea how obvious his distraction was—well, the source of it, at any rate. He even thought about it while at their weekly “family dinner” at Senshi’s house (located conveniently on the lot just behind the bar), but if anybody noticed how often he checked his phone, looking for nothing, they didn’t bring it up.
He thought many times about just texting Kabru back, but what exactly could he say? In the light of day, Laios felt humble, ordinary again. “Maybe,” said a stupid little voice somewhere in his head, “that guy would take one look at you in the cool light of reason and start questioning everything.” So instead of saying anything, Laios spent a lot of effort imagining scenarios where they might luckily just run into each other again. Phantom Kabru could wait around any corner. Fate would just have to help out, right?
Then a whole week went by. Then, just here, Laios shakes themself to reality once more, because Kabru is very, extremely real, not fake, not an imaginary friend, and next to him on the couch in Marcille and Falin’s big suite.
“You good?” Kabru asks, patting Laios’ shoulder. “Sorry, I started focusing on this.” He wiggles the tablet pen between his fingers, hovering over his half-filled character sheet.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good!” Laios bends down to check out Kabru’s stats so far, delighted. “sh*t, you really liked my drider homebrew?”
On the other end of the couch, Marcille sighs in relief. “I’m sorry man, I couldn’t play it, ugh… Spider stuff… But it’s fine if he does!”
Kabru shrugs. “I thought it was so well-thought out, and it was a shame nobody else seemed to be using it for this. But I do get that the spider thing freaks people out, no shame.”
“Don’t rush to finish this right now either, I want to get you special dice to roll your stats with! So you’ll have your own set. I do it for everybody,” Laios adds quickly at the end, because it’s true.
Kabru is so easy to be around, and if he just wants to be friends, that’s awesome. Laios would rather not come on too strong. They don’t really care all that much if this is just a cool friendship type thing now. Well. Maybe just a little bit. Because, just based on the facts here, Kabru keeps touching them, and looking at them with such a sincere expression, letting things linger that probably don’t have to. Laios remembers so cleanly, in high fidelity, what it feels like to touch Kabru back. The quick harmonic breaths that seized in his diaphragm, and those muscles coiling in his stomach just beneath Laios’ hand…
Falin whispers something to Marcille, then grins, turning back to Laios. “Dude, the council has agreed that you seem sleepy. By order of the big room, I banish you. Kabru, you should probably walk them back! Just to be safe!”
Puzzled, Laios shakes his head. “Hm? I’m not tired, just zoning out!”
“Are you sure?” Kabru asks. “You heard the boss, I think you got banished. But you could… Maybe show me some of your haunted artifacts? I’ve pretty much f*cked off of work right now as it is, I just… Should keep my notifications on, I guess.”
Instantly so awake, Laios slides off the couch. “Oh! f*ck yeah, okay, walk me back! There’s so much cool stuff in there, we have to keep it quarantined though because—”
Marcille winces, an expression that is somehow audible. “It’s creepy and I can’t sleep with creepy stuff near me, haunted or not. Like, would you wear a shirt someone died in?”
“Aaand there it is,” Laios finishes, smiling. Classic Marcille.
Before following Laios out, Kabru happily gathers more cell numbers for himself, which is another great sign. Seeing everybody get along well is a relief.
As they close the door on another episode of River Monsters, Laios remembers something else he wanted to say. Passing by fake plants and wall-sconces with off-white bulbs, he fishes for his words. “It’s so awesome that you went and listened to our show, by the way. I wasn’t trying to advertise it to you, but… It’s such a big part of my life, and I’m proud of what we do. It genuinely means a lot that you’re interested in all this! Sometimes I still get surprised that we have fans, or a community who is willing to support us, or anything. I guess I just wanted to say… thanks, it was such a nice surprise.”
Kabru, who just seemed to remember that his nametag was still on and is picking at the magnets, glances up with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Hm? You don’t have to thank me, I promise. I love listening so far, if I learned about the show naturally it’s still a topic that I’m interested in, so rest assured that I’m not a fan under duress.” He makes a reassuring small noise, stepping forward once more to call the elevator. In the gentle rumbling from behind the closed doors, his pause feels natural.
He continues as they step in together. “Actually, I wanted to compliment you even more than I did, without overbearing. You three, and the segments with regular guests too, you all sound very comfortable and open with each other. I like audio shows, but I prefer things that feel less scripted and more… true to personality. I loved how you see the world, but I also loved how you can tell from just the sound how much you care, and what you like. Every episode it was like… I could almost imagine sitting in the room with you, listening to you all talk, welcome but not intrusive.”
Laios can feel his face getting really hot. He’s never been able to keep a flush at bay, for any reason. This probably isn’t embarrassment or exertion, though. “Yeah? I… I’m bad at taking compliments like that, I don’t have sh*t to say that’s even close, but…”
“It’s okay, I know,” Kabru says, offering his hand to Laios when the doors open again. His hand is kind of cool, pleasantly dry, like a sea-shell brought far from the water. It is okay; he knows. Even though it’s a short trip, and there’s nothing to needs to be protected from, Laios allows himself to be ushered down the rest of the second floor hallway, hand-in-hand.
With his free hand, Laios hunts around in the pocket of his jean shorts for the key-card. “Let’s hope this keeps working! Or maybe the ghost of the hotel will jinx me now,” he says, mostly joking. Luck stays on his side, and the lock coughs up an affirmative click.
This room is significantly smaller than the big suite up above, but Laios packs the essentials in one big bag, which he keeps stowed beneath the bathroom sink. The rest of the place he tries to make neat, with tech equipment in its proper place, and everything else put carefully in a unique location. The result is a little bit like a miniature museum. Without asking for house-keeping, he even does his best to make the bed and change the towels on his own.
Kabru is instantly drawn in, flipping off the main light but leaving on the warm, draping glow of the orange stained-glass fixture stuck over the headboard like some sort of weird trophy animal. “Mood lighting,” he explains. “f*ck, the painting. You’re the expert, I want to know about all of it!”
Laios crosses the fifteen feet of dark blue, thick-pile carpet, which is an odd choice for a hotel now that he thinks of it. “This does live on the desk, but that’s okay because I don’t need to use it. I found it in the basem*nt up at the old theatre at STU… It’s probably a prop, and not real antiques, plus nobody there claimed it, so I got to take it home! As you can see, it’s of… I think chimney sweeps, or something. Nothing like haunted, grimy children in old clothes looking directly at you.”
“Do you think it has a… What’s that word you guys use, an attachment?” Kabru asks, stepping closer to the painting. “It’s a pretty good painting. I can see the layers caked on there.”
Laios rubs the back of their neck, sheepishly. “To be honest, no. I just like collecting strange souvenirs. I like this because it looks like it should be cursed, but nah. None of our equipment reacts to the thing at all. Oh, and this is our EMF detector! I use it to prop up the art.”
“What about these?” Kabru points to the dingy glass bottles lined up on the round breakfast table. “Is there…”
Eagerly, Laios holds a bottle up to the lamplight. “Oh yeah, this one has a bird skull in it. Isn’t that bizarre? It’s too big to fall in there. We found these at the old Goshawk Falls trail, the abandoned hydroelectric building, and they all get readings.”
“Huh…” Kabru looks at them intently, touching a small, dark brown bottle. “Maybe there’s spirits in these.”
“No, no, they’re soda bottles,” Laios says, smiling when he gets a laugh out of Kabru. “But seriously, they are, it’s really hard to see the logos but they’re old cream soda and ginger beer brands.”
Kabru moves over to a plastic tray full of rocks with fossil imprints, lightly tracing the curves of claws, corals, long-dead bivalves. Then he moves to a folded hand-towel with a stone carving inside. “Is it an animal?”
“Falin says it has a presence, but it’s hard to see,” Laios says. “I think it’s either a cow or a dog, and the pointy things are horns or ears. Eye of the beholder?”
“It looks a little more like a cow to me.” Kabru’s fingers don’t make it to the stone, hovering close. That’s typical. Laios doesn’t like to touch the thing directly either.
Kabru moves on to the nonsense zone. “Oh, you love kitsch, this stuff is awesome,” he says, paying respects to a tray of stupid Waterfall Valley fridge magnets and a commemorative cup from a local bagel chain.
He starts to rummage around, pausing to open the nearby window a crack, letting in a mild breeze. And the call of nighttime creatures, a smell that prickles Laios’ skin. Softly, an afterthought catches on the wind, the sighing horn from a cargo train traversing the bottom of the valley. Probably heading from the salt mines in the south, following the bend of the lakes to the north, all the way up without paying passengers. Laios closes their eyes. It’s almost as if they can feel the rushing current, rail ties shuddering across that one highway intersection down below, blowing back the tawny grasses and stirring a cloud of pollen from the soil.
Then Kabru laughs to himself, and Laios thinks. Kabru likes him. He wants to be here. Laios doesn’t feel the urge to put on a show, to act “normal” or be smaller. This is how it is.
“Care to explain this?” Kabru snorts, holding up a translucent plastic tackle box with a label pasted to the front. Inside, a strange, curved shape is barely visible. On the front, techni-color letters loudly announce: ALIEN PROBE! REAL! ACCURATE!
Laios can’t believe he left that on display. “Uhh, it’s from this roadside attraction we saw, it was some dude’s alien conspiracy museum plus gas station? I couldn’t resist, there was a booklet and everything talking about his theories that all aliens are giant bugs, and that he used to get visits from a queen bee alien who was his wife…”
Clearly that intrigues Kabru. He fumbles with the clasps, his mouth falling open in surprise and glee. “I wish aliens were real so they could have crazy dicks, I mean that,” he says, lifting his prize free. The silicon “sculpture” is meant to look insectoid, kind of like an ovipositor, but is also painted cartoonish yellow and black, with a slender, flared head like a tentacle. In the bottom of the container sits the curled up, unused strap-on belt, still in its cellophane wrapper.
Before Laios can remember to feel self-conscious, Kabru smoothly pivots and grabs one of Laios’ portable microphones. “Excuse me, have you ever used this item? Can you confirm its accuracy?” He grins slowly, looking a little evil, and Laios is so much in his body, feeling far too awake.
He’s honest, of course. “Once or twice,” he admits, glancing at the thing again. “It’s a little hard on myself though, I don’t have a lot of practice. It could be accurate though, I guess! It reminds me of the mantid theory, a few alien reports have said they look like bipedial praying mantis… Mantae?”
“Hm… In that case, would you recommend it?”
“I might,” Laios says, “My honest review is… I liked the shape. It was easier to fit than I thought.”
Kabru presses his lips together, then continues. “I’m not quite ready to call it a night, you know. You should help me with this. If you want. Sharing is caring?”
“Just be careful with the mic,” Laios replies, his face and neck already flushed. He waits patiently for Kabru to set the microphone down, before he absolutely can’t wait anymore.
Laios didn’t finish the job last time. They only just got started figuring Kabru out, seeing and feeling him, giving him what he likes. Running their hands down to Kabru’s waist, it’s two steps to take him onto the rose-patterned bedspread, one deep breath to kiss his mouth and knock him back on the mattress, and a fraction of anything for Kabru to grab on fiercely to Laios, fingernails scraping their neck and curling down into their scalp.
They breathe through their nose, chasing Kabru’s lips, but also basking for just a moment in smells both new and familiar. Kabru’s skin has a unique scent, kind of floral but still masculine and a little musky, and it hits Laios right in the gut. They shudder, groaning softly. Unlike last time, Kabru is entirely beneath them, legs spread and hooked loosely around Laios’ back, the contours of his body flattened between Laios and the covers.
Time slips and comes free, Laios unable and unwilling to speak. Kabru kisses him messily and hard, goading Laios to do the same, flickering his tongue out until Laios gets brave enough to copy. Laios has never felt another tongue on his own before—it tickles, but nicely, hot and delicate.
Kabru is adroit and careful, half-undressing himself and pulling off Laios’ shirt (featuring a picture of schooling salmon from the nearby Science Museum gift shop) before tossing it and his own over the side of the bed. He breaks their kiss, wriggling his hips. “Wait, you can get right back on, I just. Pants.”
“I got it!” Laios hops to their feet, kicking off their shorts and unlacing Kabru’s shoes before fully undoing his pants. Then they get distracted, pausing there, standing over Kabru just to look at him like that. Kabru’s body is highlighted by the two orange lamps like dusk falling on the exposed boughs of a pine tree, only covered up by a pair of dark purple boxer briefs that cling to his hips and twin swatches of sports tape on either side of his chest. Laios follows the curved lines of him, patches of dark brown hair in the center of his chest, around his belly, lower…
Kabru stretches back, cupping his chest in his hands. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases. “C’mere.”
Crawling back onto the bed, Laios pauses and wriggles out of his binder. At this point, it was just getting sweaty. On the first inhale, he tastes a new, but still familiar scent. He bends low, kissing Kabru’s waistline and drinking it up. Is that how Kabru smells when he’s wet? Fascinating. The memory of his taste rushes to Laios’ tongue, mingling real and remembered.
“Ah, f*ck, I’m already so…” Kabru murmurs. “Up here.”
Kabru is peeling off the tape gently, quickly twisting the strips into a ball and the ball rolls off and gets lost, and Laios is stroking the dips of his waist, kissing him, eager to prove himself. Kabru grabs Laios’ hands, dragging them to his chest—feeling his nipples harden so fast is different from how it felt through a shirt, and that’s fascinating too. Laios rolls them around, brushes them against his palms, and in response Kabru lifts his hips off the bed and squirms.
“Just a little more, I need your help,” Kabru purrs, slithering back just slightly to peel off the last little bit of clothing. Then he reaches behind himself for the novelty alien hornet queen stinger dild*, All Rights Reserved, and cups it right at the crux of his thighs. “Get it ready for me?”
Without even a pending application for a coherent thought, Laios dives down and gets the alien dick in his mouth. It tastes as expected, mostly like nothing and plastic, but Laios realizes he likes kneeling, and even more, the jutting curves of Kabru’s hip-bones, the smooth dips from waist to thigh, each one like a meniscus of water, and the layered, intense scent of his arousal. Laios can’t not imagine how it would feel to be Kabru, if the toy was real, and that couples with his urge to do a good job. He closes his eyes, taking the head in his mouth, the ridged upper shaft, a whimper slipping free as he begins to bop up and down.
“Oh, that’s exactly right, just what I wanted,” Kabru praises him, voice thick and hoarse. “So talented. I can’t wait to see how it feels once you’ve warmed it up for me. Do you like this?”
Laios can’t talk with most of the toy in their mouth, the arrow-shaped head prodding their palate, tongue slipping around the soft ridges. They can’t do anything but whine louder, nodding to take it in more. This is it, this is what they need.
“You’re… so pretty, you’re doing so good… I…” Kabru gently peels Laios back, stroking their sweaty hair. “I’m ready, lemme help you now.”
Laios sits back, shedding his boxers at last and keeping still while Kabru tears the cellophane wrapper to shreds. Working together, they both pull on the smooth straps, tightening the harness against Laios’ hips until the toy hangs low but secure, shining lightly with wetness. Testing things, Laios bounces on his knees on the mattress, watching the tip wobble around.
But then, there are much more pressing sights. Like Kabru getting on all fours, appropriating two of Laios’ pillows to cushion his head and arms. Like Kabru sliding a hand between his legs, spreading himself, stroking and dipping two fingers inside.
Laios remembers that they, too, have a dick that isn’t plastic, and it aches beneath the toy, clenching with each rush of heat over their skin.
“If you’re ready then, here’s what I need,” Kabru groans, partly swallowed in the cushion. “Scoot forward and just hold still, let me sit by myself. I can take it like that.”
Obediently, Laios scoots on his knees to line up with Kabru from behind. He watches Kabru’s spine ripple beneath the skin, down to the two gentle dimples just above his ass. He reaches out, stroking the divot, doing no more than that.
And that’s when Kabru moves backward, grabbing the toy with one hand to guide it in. His breathing is loud and ragged, and he shifts slowly, inch-by-inch. “Sorry, bigger stuff like this… hurts if I go too quick,” he explains himself, but Laios hardly registered the passage of time at all.
“It’s okay,” Laios says, “More than okay, whatever you need!”
With a soft string of noises, Kabru sinks down, their hips bumping and resting together. For a little while, he doesn’t move back, just wriggling around. “It’s… Huh…” Kabru pants after a while. Laios knows what he means—the shape of this toy is odd, slender at the base, with unexpected ridges and the head large and plush. “Mmmph…”
“I’m so full,” Kabru says, after another short quiet, before grinding back in a shallow movement. Then another, and again, until he’s rocking onto the toy, quiet smacking sounds accompanying him. “Hold me?”
Laios shivers and obeys, holding onto Kabru’s hips. “I want to hear more, like, your review,” they say. Kabru is so direct, so explicit, in a way that Laios can’t quite manage yet himself. “Um, I like it when… You say what you want, without disguising it…”
Laughing, Kabru seats himself hard on the toy, promptly cut off by a gasp. “Ahh… It’s deep, but comfortable, I don’t feel stretched. Just… full. But I need it harder, I can’t do it right myself. Laios… Do you wanna f*ck me? Want me to come on your dick? Do you like when I talk like this?”
Laios swallows, unable to keep the heat from his face or the quaver from his voice. “Like that, yeah… Please, more.”
Kabru’s voice gets low again, crackling in his throat. Calculating, slow and deliberate. “I want you to f*ck me. Show me how it feels in my c*nt when you bounce me on your dick, grab my hips just like this and rub up on my puss* and beg to f*ck me. Make me feel it, I-I—Ah-? Ohf*ckohf*ck— Yes, more—!!”
Laios wants to do a good job, and hearing those words blasts his internal restraint into radioactive ash. He pulls Kabru back against him, then starts with hard, short thrusts, gasping loudly every time as the base of the strap grinds down between his own legs. In moments, though his own pleasure is secondary, he’s grinding on the harness, sliding in and out of Kabru with greater ease. He didn’t know that being spoken to so lewdly and directly like that would break his brain, but now he does. Cool!
Kabru recovers quickly, bouncing back down against every thrust, just taking them with tight desperate breaths and repeated encouragements. “Mhm you’re so good for me, you feel so hot, keep going keep going…”
It feels incredible, overwhelming, just seeing Kabru move like that and reeling after every bounce of the harness. All too quickly, Laios feels deep pressure mounting, spiking, grabbing him and shaking hard, but he keeps moving through it, crying out wordlessly as he comes and keeps going. He’s too possessed to even consider stopping.
Kabru clamps his mouth shut, whining and arching his back. Laios just can’t look away, their eyes locked onto the curling hairs lying against the nape of Kabru’s neck.
Suddenly, Laios is filled with an incredible feeling. It’s beyond his body, someplace within and through it, a piercing intuition that has nothing inherently to do with pleasure. He looks at Kabru, the ripple of his shoulder blades and hitching breath, and he knows that Kabru is holding himself back. There’s something desperate inside him, clenched like a fist, and maybe he would like to let go. Maybe he would like to be made to let go, maybe he can’t on his own. What’s left to fall away? At the center of him, what does Kabru cling to that burns his hand?
Hungry for that secret thing, hoping to reach it by instinct, Laios folds over Kabru and holds him close, letting go of Kabru’s hips, and gently stroking his body. His lower abdomen, taut stomach and navel, the curl of ribs, a vibration that rises when Kabru sighs and sinks back into the embrace, the harder pulse of their hips, and the surprisingly tender swell of each breast in Laios’ hands, hanging freely.
Kabru grinds sharply against Laios, tilting his head backward. Laios is hardly there, fascinated by a new sensation, brushing his fingers over each gravity-flushed, soft and puffy nipple. “O-oh,” Kabru gasps, barely audible, “Why, mmph—Laios, l-like that, I… I can’t hold it!”
Kabru’s entire body flinches and draws in like a punch. And Laios almost feels it, somehow, that something nearly slip inside or between them, but whatever muscle holds it firm is too fast and clamps down violently. Kabru tumbles forward, leaving Laios to hold him up.
They’re both trembling, sweat mixing between Laios’ chest and Kabru’s back. Shifting slightly, Laios pulls Kabru into a proper embrace. With his head so close to Kabru’s back, he can hear the insane tempo of Kabru’s heartbeat. It feels to Laios like something happened, even though neither of them are speaking.
Still inside of Kabru, Laios kisses his spine, then the back of his neck. “I liked that,” he says, when he’s capable of doing so, “I really really liked that.”
In reply, Kabru twists fully in Laios’ arms, finding their mouth and kissing them. It’s the easiest thing to kiss him back. Like his hands, Kabru’s lips are faintly cool.
When Kabru breaks the kiss, he meets Laios’ eyes, briefly. A flash of blue, much more vivid this close. Does Kabru know that he’s holding back? Or what he’s clinging to? Laios is familiar with the feeling, at least. Maybe Kabru doesn’t know that, whatever it is, even if the world can’t take it, some people will carry the weight with him. Laios knows that to be undeniably true.
Laios realizes he’s smiling like a lunatic, but he can’t really help it. “Haha yeah, exactly!” he says, and Kabru smiles too.
“I really should head out, it’s about that time,” Kabru says, glancing at the clock nearby and his clothes dumped all around the bed. “I’m sad to go, though. Can I clean up in your bathroom? I guess I should worry about hopping off first, hah.”
“Take your time!” Laios assures him, sitting up a bit so that Kabru can extract himself. Now they’re also going to have to wash this toy, but a perverse urge says, no don’t, keep it like that, which they quickly shove away. Once they’re disentangled, Laios peels off the straps on his own, flopping down in the draft from the open window to just try and cool off.
They close their eyes, getting sleepier. In what feels like two seconds, the toilet flushes, and Kabru is back, having grabbed his clothes and halfway dressed. “You alright?” he asks, moving over to Laios and putting a hand on their chest, just over their collarbone.
Laios nods, content, but still. They seriously consider asking Kabru to stay, to hang around, to be here tomorrow. It’s less late than it could be, only around midnight.
Before they get the chance to ask, Kabru looks fondly down at them, his eyes crinkling brightly. “Don’t worry about hitting me up, I mean it. Talk to me whenever. I’m down for anything, absolutely all of it, please. I’m on call.”
“You know I will,” Laios says. He can and he will—no, he has to. That was some kind of promise, and he prefers to keep those.
[…]
New imessage from Rinshaaa Fana
(11:30) Rinshaaa: Heyyyyy
Rinshaaa: Heyy hey what’s up
Rinshaaa: wtf? Are you still at work?
Rinshaaa: Man TT Dude. Heyyyyyy.
Rinshaaa: [standing man emoji]
Rinshaaa: Heyyyyyyyyy
Rinshaaa: Why text you LOL this is why everybody hits you up in the slack…
(11:46) Rinshaaa: Dude. After I defended you from preggo allegations?
(12:01) Rinshaaa: Okay well I haven’t done groceries in sooooo long so I know you haven’t either bc you only go when I do, and I only go to the 24 hr so can you drive us [six sobbing face emojis]
Rinshaaa: And if you don’t hang out w me I will be sad and maybe even upset.
(12:04) Kabru: Omg sorry I was busy! Wanted to circle back around on some stuff. LOL
Kabru: I also don’t have food wait. You are so smart you’re a GENIUS. No club this week only grocery store [100 emoji]
Rinshaaa: Ummmm lmao ‘some stuff’ okay well I have to hear what it is bc if it was a work thing we’d all know…
(12:10) Kabru: I’ll pick you up! OMW
Rinshaaa: Omggg if you don’t tell me everything -_-
Kabru: Don’t worry lol I will ;)
[…]
Kabru’s grocery schedule is awful, but luckily, P&T Fresh Foodtown (the store near the horse farm all the way up on east hill) is always there to rescue him. He’s still buzzing on adrenaline from before, doing anything he can not to walk funny as he and Rin step into the mostly-empty lot and hunt around for a cart.
“Seriously, what would we do if this place stopped being 24/7?” Rin wonders, putting a hand to her heart beneath the flickering light of a fluorescent sign that has seen much better times. “Only flag I will do the pledge for.”
“What would I do? Probably eat weird convenience store food and turn into a husk,” Kabru admits. This is true. He grabs a lost shopping cart, letting Rin drop recyclable shopping bags into the basket before pushing it on. “Then again, I think it’s open like this for people who work like us? We have this whole nocturnal economy.”
Rin purses her lips. “No, you’re right, that has a ring to it.” Mere feet inside the store, she darts towards a bin of honey-dew melons, patting all of them within reach. “By the way,” she adds, “are you going to tell me… Y’know… What kind of work you were just doing?”
She’s like this. Kabru knows that however she teases him, it’s because she’s familiar with him, enough to know that he won’t be offended. Her mild bullying is his favorite long-running inside joke. Right now, for several reasons, his senses are twice as powerful (night air, phantom marks on his body, the subtle smell of fruit slowly, slowly ripening) and his skin almost feels slippery. Everything is a little funnier than it ought to be, too.
“Oh no, you got me,” he says slyly, “It was more silly Caucasian dick, so sue me. He’s cute and weird.”
Rin pretends to act surprised. “Ohhhh my god, at work? Another satisfied guest!” She sets a cantaloupe in the cart and moves on. Kabru rarely buys fresh fruit, because he forgets about it and it goes bad too fast, so he just pushes along after her.
“I looked them up, by the way,” Rin says when he catches up. “Laios Touden is mildly internet famous. C or D class, but he has a Wikipedia page and a Fandom Wikia. How does it feel to have a brush with celebrity?”
Kabru snorts, looking out over the quiet, half-lit rows of fruits, vegetables, worn-out advertisem*nts. “I didn’t go for him because of that, I’m being serious. I’m not a clout-digger. Is that a thing? Whatever.” He leans forward a little on the cart, removing pressure from his knees.
“Oh yes it is! I guess I believe you though, your bar is so low. What was it like the second time around?”
He attempts to think of a flippant reply, something true but ridiculous, and falls flat. Already, whatever this is feels so sincere, and more than that, it’s even frightening.
In the silence, Rin looks back at him, her creased brow smoothing out. “Okayyy, that’s a new one.”
Kabru grins, putting an expression on that he hopes reads like contrition. “Sorry, just thinking! He’s very sweet, but he likes when I boss him around. I hung out with his sister Falin and his friend Marcille, they’re also on the show, and then we went back to his room for a while.”
“I am so suspicious. That’s not Second Kabru Hook-Up behavior, you met their f*cking family? How long have you known this dude?”
Pretending to ignore her, Kabru helps himself to a shelf of bowl noodles, instant tteokbokki, and corn chips. “Believe whatever you want, maybe I’ve been all over them this whole time, and I just feel shy to unveil my white king, because you would just love that.”
Rin gags loudly, the sound echoing far enough to make an old guy on the other end of the aisle look up in concern. “Ohhh my god, oh my god I f*cking knew it, this is so you. For a few weeks I was like, thank goodness my dear friend Kabru stopped having medium risk sex! Tell me right now dude, tell me I defended you on Slack for good reason.”
Laughing, Kabru just shakes his head. “You turn your back on me so fast!” He grabs a jumbo box of off-brand Little Debbies. A champion’s breakfast.
Two aisles later, Rin continues. “I don’t wanna hear it man, I’m getting you this. Or maybe this?” She drops two cards off a wire rack into the cart, forcing Kabru to root around for them. One says: Congratulations on Your Little Princess! with eye-searing pink accents and an illustration of a stork carrying a plump, cherubic newborn in a tiara. The other is less colorful, black text on white cardstock: So You Forgot to Re-New Your Nexplanon and Now I’m at this Baby Shower. Yay.
Rolling his eyes, Kabru ejects the cards. “You’re literally so mean, sh*t. You’re aware he doesn’t have a—”
“So? Barf. I don’t care, it’s funny to get on your case,” Rin says, but Kabru catches a tiny glance of her smile through a curtain of hair as she bends down to root through frozen side dishes, so he doesn’t mind too much. “By the way, if you don’t get like two normal meals, I’ll tell everybody you’re eloping. I’ll even get it for you, I know meat’s expensive…”
Then, before he can accuse her of being sweet to him, she puts a familiar look of false disdain back on. “Not for your sake alone, we have to help you survive your big-ass white baby.”
Kabru laughs, sighing heavily. “Mhm. Wow. You’re so nice to me.” And then weirdly he feels… sad? Nostalgic for a moment that isn’t even over yet? In the back of the grocery store, at 1:30 am, Kabru remembers how precious these small hours are. I’m not ready yet, he thinks desperately, I can’t do it, I want my life—Kabru’s life—I can’t give it up. I’ll miss her.
But what’s the other option? He doesn’t know that chasing the thread will ruin everything, either. (The other Kabru might not be alive to take their life back, for one thing. No, he made his choice when he went to the hotel tonight. He’s going to have to keep making it.)
“Happy now?” he asks, picking up a large bag of frozen stir-fry. “This is good for like, three meals.”
Rin inspects it and nods once. “It’s satisfactory,” she says, “On the condition that you help me eat all the fruit.”
[…]
The next night, Kabru sits at the desk in his room, having cleared just enough space for all his supplies: laptop, tupperware of freeze-dried mango and another of honey-dew melon, extremely cheap flip-phone and sim card from the convenience store downstairs, and a USB microphone.
He got this idea before, the previous evening. It was something Falin had said, clearly a joke but sticking in his mind. It also depended on what he could or couldn’t communicate, and he hadn’t tried yet.
Kabru clears his throat and leans in towards the mic.
[…]
Falin: Hey, you’ve reached our voice-mail box! If you’d like your comment played on our show, Campfire Calls, go right ahead and tell your story. If you want to remain anonymous, that’s fine, and if you’d prefer we don’t put it on air, please let us know. Right now, we’ve returned to the town where we started our show, so if you have any Waterfall Valley specific stories, we’d love to hear them! Thanks for tuning in, and leave your message after the tone.
The Tone, Clearly just Laios Talking: Beeeeeeeep!
The Voice-Mail: [Crackling, distortion; a short electronic whine.]
The Voice-Mail: [A slow, artificially altered voice; a mixture of Microsoft Sam and witness protection.] This isn’t a story about Waterfall Valley, it doesn’t have a middle or an end yet. I don’t know if there are ghosts there, but there are holes… In the earth. Things fall through the cracks, have fallen through. It’s not a metaphor. Go deeper, find a way in… There’s another country down there. I—
The Voice-Mail: [A brief, abortive sound of pain, like someone biting their tongue.]
The Voice-Mail: It’s too hard to explain. Look on the west hill, you’ll find someplace everybody else has forgotten, but you’ll find it. If anybody can make it deeper, you can. Things fall in, and others crawl out. It… No—
The Voice-Mail: f*ck. [A pained breath.]
The Voice-Mail: [Re-composed.] You know there’s something unbalanced, more than one thing. I’m asking you to please keep looking. You’ll know it when you see it.
The Voice-Mail: [A click, breaking off the call. That’s it. There’s no more.]
Marcille, In Real-Time: … Uh, what the f*ck?
