Nate yawned, stretching, immediately reaching up to languidly massage his splitting headache. He scratched at his bare chest, rolling over in his bed which felt softer than normal. As he adjusted, his hand brushed against something soft and silky, eyes wearily blinking open in curiosity at the foreign object.
Or… foreign person?
His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. Long hair like silver tentacles stretched out towards him, draped across a pale, thin shoulder. A loose, white shirt fell from their torso, only covering half of their shoulder.
Sanga.
Nate quickly shot up, scrambling and fighting with the comforter to escape from the bed, still fighting off nausea and pain.
WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT? he panicked, looking desperately for his shirt. In the bed, Sanga turned over, blinking sleepily and looking up at Nate. He smiled warmly, but then tilted his head in confusion.
"Nate? What happened? Are you okay?"
Spinning around, his shirt halfway over his head, Nate quickly shoved his head and arms through. "I'm so sorry, Sanga! I don't remember what happened last night, so I don't know what came over me, but that's no excuse-"
"H-hold on, Nate." Sanga sat up in bed, curling his legs beneath him. Nate suddenly became enamored by the appearance of Sanga, sleepy eyed, long hair lightly tousled with a few strands out of place, the oversized white t-shirt falling halfway down his arm, his long, thin legs scarcely covered by silk shorts. Yawning, Sanga stretched a little before continuing. "Nothing happened last night, Nate. You blacked out and the trains had stopped running, so I brought you back to my place. But when I laid you down in the bed, you refused to let go of me, haha."
Heat rose to Nate's cheeks. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, Sanga, please let me make it up to you if I can!"
"It's quite alri-"
"How about… how about lunch? Or dinner? I could take you to lunch or dinner? My treat!"
"You don't have to do that, Nate." Sanga smiled again, before sliding out of bed. "Besides, I don't… particularly enjoy going out to eat anyways."
"I could pick it up and bring it to you!" Nate insisted. "Or make something for you? Like, if you wanted, I could make something and then bring it-"
"Nate," Sanga said sternly, causing him to flinch. "It's okay. Please just go home. Get some proper rest."
Pressing his lips together, he shouted internally. Crap, I came on too strong just now, didn't I? Idiot, don't push him into something he clearly isn't comfortable with!
Nate swallowed, nodding. "I understand, but the offer still stands whenever you want it."
Brows upturned in worry, Sanga closed the distance between them, despite Nate backing away. "I'm sorry, Nate," he reasoned. "I just… don't feel comfortable eating in public. It's nothing to do with you, I mean, I think you're splendid, and-"
Does he have trouble eating in public because he gets hit on so much for his looks? Man, I'm so dumb, I should've realized sooner.
"I understand. Anytime you're hungry, though… just let me know. I'll feed you anytime you need."
Sanga's expression tightened, before he pressed his mouth into a thin line and nodded. "Thank you, Nate, I appreciate that. But again, there's really no need."
Nate offered a farewell, turning to leave when something sitting on Sanga's dresser caught his eye.
An invitation with bright colors and a huge font, advertising their high school's graduation reunion.
"Oh hey, the reunion. Are you going, Sanga?"
Sanga shrugged, smiling. "I haven't thought much about it. What about you? Will you be attending?"
Nate shook his head, voice turning quiet. "Nah. I don't really wanna see the faces of my bully again, y'know? And besides, I don't really remember much about school."
Again, Sanga's smile fell, causing Nate to knit his eyebrows together in worry. Do I tell Sanga what happened…? He seems upset. Maybe I should lighten the mood? I shouldn't have said that.
"I-it's okay, really! Colby was just making fun of my memory problems, that's all!" Nate laughed awkwardly. "But that's… most of what I remember from high school, so I feel uncomfortable thinking about it."
Sanga closed the gap between them again, leaning in yet not quite touching, voice quiet.
"You remember Colby?"
"I… I…" Nate stammered, before backing away. "Sorry, Sanga. I should head out. See you on Monday?"
A curt nod, and a "see you" was all Nate got. He turned, opening Sanga's bedroom door, when Sanga piped up once again.
"Nate, you're always welcome over any other time. You can even walk right in through the front door, I always leave it unlocked."
Nate dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Hah, you should really value your safety more," he commented.
He closed Sanga's door behind him, leaving him alone in his bedroom.
Just him, the quiet ticking of a clock, and the reunion invite. He slid the invitation to the edge of the dresser, picking it up to read carefully.
His fist closed around the invite, eyes narrowed and expression soured.
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
"The body was found at nine this morning by the restaurant's… oven?" The policeman scratched his head as he wrote down Mulligan's testimony.
"86. They're a robot that can cook food in their stomach. Didn'tcha listen?" Mulligan crossed his arms, languidly playing with a toothpick between his teeth.
"S-sorry. I heard you, I just didn't quite understand." He pocketed his notepad before bowing respectfully. "Thank you for your time. The police station is currently understaffed, but we'll get on it as soon as-"
"I'll take it, Captain Frischknecht."
Captain Frischknecht straightened up at the sound of the sudden robotic voice, turning around to see the tall, lanky figure striding towards them, draped in black. Its face was sleek, made entirely of a dark black metal, and one robotic eye shone red from underneath its black trilby hat.
"Captain?" Mulligan asked in disbelief. "They made a small fry like you a captain?"
"We-we're very understaffed right now," Frischknecht replied. He turned to the robot beside him. "Detective NOIR. I'll leave this to you."
NOIR tipped their hat to Captain Frischknecht. "Matteo. Ybarra is looking for you."
Matteo nodded, bowing to the both of them once more and jogging away. Mulligan bit down on the toothpick, snapping it in half before swallowing it.
"So. You're… one of those machines, huh?'
"I prefer the term robot."
"Right, right…" Mulligan scratched his chin. "Well, I better let you inside so you can see the crime scene. It's in the back. It was far too late for us to announce a closure so there's some workers and customers here, so please try to keep your voice down. We haven't told anyone, and we don't wanna alarm 'em."
"Got it." NOIR tilted its head towards the people happily eating and chatting away, tipping its hat over its eye as it followed Mulligan down the hall. When they entered the backroom, NOIR immediately noticed the body covered with a tablecloth, surrounded by candles and flowers. Next to it stood a bulky robot with a square head, forged from head to toe in a light, white metal.
The robot turned to look at NOIR and Mulligan, its face just a set of glowing white digital eyes on a black screen.
"86," Mulligan greeted.
"Mulligan," 86 sobbed. Well, as much as a robot could sob. "Is it all my fault?"
"No, no." Mulligan patted it on its padded shoulder. "You were chargin' when it happened. 'Sides, accordin' to camera footage, the assassin just appeared and disappeared out of thin air. There was nothin' any of us could do."
NOIR perked up, straightening itself out. "Camera footage, you say? May I, perhaps, take a look?"
Mulligan nodded, ushering NOIR through another door and another set of hallways. 86 trailed behind, clearly distraught.
Are they going to follow us the whole time? NOIR thought. If they could frown, they definitely would be right now. Unfortunately, their lack of a second eye and mouth made such expressions difficult. The lack of features did, however, make it incredibly easy to hide one's disdain.
"Security room is just in here," Mulligan said, pushing open the door to a darkly lit room illuminated only by the screens on the monitors. "We've already gone through the footage, but it's impossible for us to identify the murderer, they appear and then disappear way too fast."
NOIR nodded. "I'll take a look. Do you have the time of the murder?"
Mulligan pulled out a slip of paper, scribbling some numbers down. "Here ya go. I've gotta go on break, so, 86, mind keeping an eye on our guest for me?"
"You got it."
"Great. Good luck."
He left, closing the door behind him and basking the two robots in darkness and silence. 86 seemed to do exactly what it was told, watching NOIR intently.
Perfect. Silence is best for me to thi-
"Do you really think you can find his killer?"
Great.
"Yes."
"Oh, great."
Another long stretch of silence. Before NOIR got too comfortable, 86 piped up again.
"Who do you think it is?"
NOIR turned their head, wishing they had an eye to narrow.
"I don't know yet. The footage must be reviewed and the crime scene must be investigated before I am able to start making conclusions," NOIR answered. "Perhaps you can tell me if you saw anything."
86 nodded eagerly. "Last night, Branzino was replacing the baking coil in my oven." They pointed at their stomach, through the dark tinted glass at the oven-looking compartment placed inside them. "As I went to my corner to charge, I heard a slicing sound but figured it was just Branzino. When I woke up this morning, I found Branzino's body laying there in the storage, covered in herbs."
NOIR recorded and catalogued 86's testimony. Their eye scanned over the footage: Mulligan was indeed telling the truth. The perpetrator appeared from the shadows in a split second, Branzino had fallen to the ground.
NOIR was only able to glean two things: the shadowy figure was incredibly fast but also small. As they replayed the split second scene again, something suddenly caught their eye.
Small objects fluttered down as the figure disappeared, scattered around Branzino's body. NOIR straightened up, unable to properly determine the exact object from the poor camera quality.
Turning to 86, NOIR asked, "You said his body was covered in herbs?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
86 shook their head. "No idea. I don't know the name of it."
"I understand. If we may, I'd like to go examine the body."
"...okay…"
86 slowly turned, holding the door open for NOIR and guiding them back down the hallways. They returned to the storage room where Branzino's body was being kept, moved gently against the wall.
As NOIR sidestepped the candles and knelt down to remove the table cloth, they noticed 86 in their peripheral, turning to face the opposite wall.
Branzino lay there peacefully, hands moved to gently rest against his chest, an unlit candle placed in his hands. Piled around him were leaves of a peculiar fan shape, a type definitely not common in the Hearts Kingdom.
NOIR picked up and pocketed a handful of leaves before carefully covering Branzino again and straightening up.
"I have recorded the scene. Branzino is covered again, you may turn around."
The shifting of metal and a few heavy steps later and 86 was at NOIR's side, looking up at them with wide, round eyes.
"Do you know who did it?"
NOIR shook their head, before pulling out one of the leaves. "I'm pretty sure these are ginkgo leaves, common in the Clubs Kingdom. I need to return to the station and use the computer to confirm."
"It is a rather odd shaped one, is it not?"
Not saying anything, NOIR began moving to leave, 86 trailing behind. They only spoke up when they had exited the building, the chef robot still following closely.
"Are you following me to the station?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I want to solve Branzino's murder as well."
NOIR huffed, although it was more like expelling a puff of air out of a vent on the back of their head.
"I work alone," they stated, before continuing their walk to the station.
86 clanked after them. A heavy robot, definitely not meant for maneuverability. But the metal also wasn't quite what one would see used for ovens. NOIR said nothing.
They'll get bored and then they'll leave, that's the norm. No one is ever interested in the investigation part of the case–merely the lead up and the results. I will shake them off eventually.
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
Skye finished preening her feathers, adjusting her leather bag on her shoulder, and checking her letters were all accounted for. She was only given three today: one to be given to the Spades Kingdom, one to the Clubs Kingdom, and one to the Diamonds Kingdom. As she combed her hair, a coworker passed by, making a snide remark.
"Don't mess this one up, Skye," they sneered, before cackling to another peer. "Oh! But if she does, her daddy'll cover for her!"
She took a deep breath and untensed her shoulders she didn't realize she had tensed, unballing her fists she didn't realize she'd balled.
"Ignore them, Skye," she told herself, narrowing her eyes as she gazed out the window of their post office. "I can do this, I won't mess this up. I'll deliver the letters this time!"
She lost the first letter somewhere in the Spades Kingdom's peaks. Skye had taken it out while flying to double check the address and a strong wind had swept it out of her hands and sent it spiraling down below.
Now, she was soaring across the mountain range, panicking while she searched desperately for it, looking in caves, on trees that grew out of the cliffs, up and down the valleys and peaks, but so far nothing had turned up.
A slight dip in the mountains revealed a graveyard, a large, canopied tree protecting the graves from the elements. A lone bench beneath the shade beckoned to her, calling her down from her tireless flight and enticing her to rest for a while.
Sighing in relief, Skye took off her hat and folded her wings around her as she laid on the bench, pulling out her device and scrolling through the notifications she received.
Maggie (roommate)
Hey, don't listen to your coworkers. Okay, birdie?
Have a good day.
I will make stollen when you return
Pascal (coworker)
Hope you didn't lose the mail yet or there'll be hell to pay
Your daddy can't cover you forever
Muttering under her breath, she sat back up, stretching and shaking the aching feeling from her wings. She took her time to preen the wings on the sides of her head, standing up and stretching once more, before unfurling her wings.
Before she could take off, however, a voice came from behind her.
"Looking for this?"
Spinning around, Skye blinked in surprise at the figure hiding in the shadows. He was short, legs covered by bandages and black jeans, a graying green cape draped over his shoulders. He wore black, fingerless gloves over his hands, bandages wrapped around his arms. A hat covered his head, a small plant seemingly growing out of it, with fluffy strands of reddish orange hair tufting out from beneath the brim. A black bandana was wrapped around his nose and mouth, showing only his blue eyes. Between two of his fingers was a white envelope, pressed shut with a red seal.
Her eyes widened as she reached for it eagerly, but the man pulled it out of reach.
"Is this yours?"
"Yes!" her hands were still outstretched, eyes still fixed on the letter in his hand. "Well, not mine, like it's not for me, but it needs to be delivered."
The man turned the envelope around, reading the address. "This is addressed to the Spades Kingdom. You can leave it with me."
"Ah, but…" Skye picked up her hat from the bench, adjusting it on her head. "I really must see to it that it gets delivered."
Her eyes flicked downward, only then noticing the man's long, fluffy tail–a rusty color, the same color as his hair–swishing in the brush. A shovel was propped up on the tree behind him.
"Then," the man spoke, causing Skye to look back up at him, "I will escort you to the kingdom."
The wings on the side of her head perked up and fluttered in excitement. "Really?" Skye cheered. If I have an escort, there's no way I can get lost!
The man nodded, grabbing the shovel behind him and stepping out from the shadows. "Follow me. It's about a two hour walk to the kingdom."
"Oh, that's okay, I can fly us both!"
He looked her up and down, raising an eyebrow and looking at the envelope she had dropped. She understood his trepidations perfectly.
"We can walk," she said with resignation. He nodded again, continuing his walk out of the graveyard. She trailed behind him, before finally asking, "What's your name?"
The man replied shortly, "Grimsley."
"Nice to meet you!" Skye jogged to catch up to him. She held out her hand, although Grimsley didn't seem keen on shaking it. Rescinding it, she quickly added, "My name is Skye. I'm a carrier bird for the IFPS, and-"
Grimsley looked down at the letter again. "You're a carrier who lost the mail?"
"I-" Skye stopped in her tracks, before shaking her head and catching up to Grimsley. "I'm a bit clumsy, sure, and I don't really want to be a carrier, but I'm still trying my best…"
"If you don't want to be a carrier, then why are you one?" Grimsley asked. "Is there not something else you want to do?"
"Ah, well, the thing is…" Skye hung her head. "The postal service is owned by my father. It's been passed down in the family, so I… I have to be a part of it, too."
Grimsley stopped walking at this, turning to look at Skye, his eyes piercing and judgemental. "You shouldn't let someone else keep you from doing the things you want to do. Even if they are family, they can't control your heart."
Skye's eyes widened as she threw her arms around Grimsley. "Ahh, thank you, Grimsley! You're so nice…" She sniffled, burying her head in his arms. "I wish I was brave enough to tell my dad that. And also my coworkers…"
Awkwardly patting the back of her head, Grimsley tried to keep walking again, but found Skye's grip much too strong for him.
"Er… yeah…" he finally said. He cleared his throat, finally pulling away from Skye. "So… what is it that you want to do?"
Looking up, Skye shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. I just wanna try all sorts of different things first and see all sorts of sights without worrying about what package or letter to deliver. My roommate, Maggie, told me to get a lot of experience, so when I'm done with deliveries, I go out and try something different."
"I see…" Grimsley nodded. "Have you tried gardening or gravedigging? Those are my specialties. Perhaps this war veteran can even teach you a thing or two about fighting, as well."
"Really?" Skye cheered again. "That'd be awesome! I'll have to come back when I'm done delivering. When are you available?"
"Anytime." Grimsley ran a finger along his shovel. "I'm usually in the graveyard or the garden, so if you can't find me in the graveyard, you should be able to find me close to the Spades Kingdom's gardens."
Skye looked up at the kingdom before her: still far away, but its presence carved onto the side of the mountain was looming and intimidating. She looked back at Grimsley, inquisitive, "I didn't know the Spades Kingdom had a garden. I always thought the environment was too harsh."
Grimsley scoffed. "That's what all the other kingdoms are taught. But I figured out how to "do the impossible", so to speak."
"Incredible," Skye breathed. "You must be a master at gardening."
At this, Grimsley turned away, smiling to himself under his bandanna. "Of course. I introduced husbandry and botany to the Spades Kingdom, after all."
Skye looked back at Grimsley's tail, pointing it out carefully. "Your tail, as well… I thought that was something only residents of the Clubs Kingdom had?"
"That is where I was born," Grimsley replied shortly.
"I-I'm sorry!" Skye clapped her hands together in a begging gesture. "I didn't mean to assume, I just know that animal features like that are uncommon in other kingdoms…"
"And you?" Grimsley raised an accusatory eyebrow. "I thought wings are something only angels or residents of Civitave had."
"Oh, well I am from Civitave! I just moved-" Skye stopped, shutting her mouth before sighing. "I see what you're doing."
Grimsley's eyes upturned in amusement. "You may not want to say such things like that to our princess. She is rather… sensitive… about her ears."
"Understood." Skye saluted, before falling back in step with Grimsley. "I'm excited, I've never met a royal before…"
Grimacing, Grimsley muttered, "The Spades royals aren't too bad, but there are some that are…"
"Uptight? Haughty? Mean…?"
"Annoying," Grimsley finished. "Pushy."
"I see…"
The two of them continued chatting as they made their way to the Spades Kingdom, up and down sloping roads cut through the mountain. As they made their way through the front gates, a cloaked figure shoved past them, dashing off as they made their way inside.
"That's strange…" Grimsley removed his hat, revealing furred ears that pricked up, listening carefully. "There's more commotion today than normal."
Skye watched Grimsley, following him wordlessly as he rushed into the kingdom. Servants passed back and forth, whispering hurriedly and frantically. One of the servants nearly ran headlong into Grimsley, but the gardener caught him and steadied him.
"What's going on?" Grimsley asked firmly.
"Th-the king and queen," the servant stuttered. "They're… they're dead. Princess Hilda still isn't back from the D-Diamonds Kingdom, and Prince Calder has r-run away, and it's all a mess-"
"Relax. Go meet up with the princess and let her know of the situation, I'll handle things here," Grimsley rolled up his sleeves. "You'd better get going, Skye. I will make sure the letter gets to Hilda."
Skye nodded nervously. "U-understood." She pulled out her device, opening up a digital map of the kingdoms.
Next, the Clubs Kingdom.
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
The front doors opened and Sanga strode in, making a sharp turn through the Employees Only door to avoid the hubbub of the restaurant's main area.
As he walked through the back area, he nearly ran right into Chantilly.
"Sanga!" her voice was shrill. "Hey, how's it goin'? What are you doin' here on your day off, you should be relaxing!"
"I'm just here to talk to Mulligan. His break is scheduled in a few minutes, yes?" Sanga asked innocently.
"He just clocked out, I think he was headed for Caesar's office," Chantilly replied. She snickered. "Those two… why don't they just make it official already, y'know?"
Sanga nodded. "Oh, I know. They don't need to sneak around anymore."
"If you can call that sneaking…" Chantilly remarked snidely. The two of them laughed until Sanga quickly excused himself. He turned the corner, promptly bursting into a sprint when he spotted Mulligan nearing Caesar's door.
"Mulligan! Wait a moment…" Sanga panted, stumbling over his feet as he slowed to a stop.
"Sanga?" Mulligan scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "Whaddya doin' here? Ain'tcha off today?"
He nodded, gulping down air. "Y-yes I am, I just… wanted to ask you… a few things…"
Mulligan shot a look at Caesar's office door before asking, "This can't wait 'til tomorrow?"
Sanga shook his head.
"Alrighty then." Mulligan folded his arms. "Go ahead."
"So, you and Caesar," Sanga began, "how did you two get together-"
Mulligan slapped a hand over Sanga's mouth, dragging him backwards and downstairs into the breakroom. Sanga thrashed helplessly, completely overpowered by his coworker as he forced him to sit at one of the tables. Mulligan then slid out a seat for himself opposite of Sanga, plopping down with a hefty sigh.
"Who told you about me and Caesar?" Mulligan asked in a hushed tone.
Sanga's eyes shifted around nervously. "Sorry, but… you two aren't really subtle."
Mulligan flinched as if he'd been shot in the heart with an arrow. He groaned, leaning forward to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Listen, kid, me and Caesar? We don't have a label on anythin'. For Caesar's sake. So please don't go blabbin' about us willy-nilly, okay?" Mulligan pleaded. Sanga nodded, before leaning in, speaking low.
"Would you still mind telling me how you two met?"
"Mm… fine, no prob, kid. Let's see…" Mulligan looked around before leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "It was back when I'd just turned 20? 21? Well, I'd been homeless for a few years, all thanks to my good-for-nothin' deadbeat father. Regardless, I was starting to get desperate to get a job and a home…"
He was scrawny, eyes sunken and heavy with eyebags, and draped in grimy, tattered clothes. His hair was stringy, slick with grease and oil, and peppered with dandruff. His face was smeared with dirt and his arms shook from exhaustion.
"Of course, no one would give someone like me a job. Can't say I blamed 'em, though, I was lookin' mighty awful and I probably smelled somethin' fierce!"
Still, Mulligan begged for jobs when and where he could, and rooted around in restaurant's dumpsters for scraps of food when he was hungry. One such restaurant seemed new, with less security round back than other restaurants since the owner hadn't learned to lock the bins up yet.
Shooting looks up and down the back alley, Mulligan made sure the coast was clear before leaning over the edge, eyes widening at the sight of a newly expired carton of milk.
He snatched it up, gulping it down fast. Restaurants were always throwing away expired foods, even if they were still good. Something about avoiding lawsuits or whatever. Still, Mulligan couldn't care less, heaving a satisfied sigh. The trash was still new. After all, the milk was still a little cool.
Wiping his lips, Mulligan tossed the empty carton back in the trash, rummaging around through the rest of it.
However, the slamming of a door brought Mulligan back to his senses, having grown too complacent with a belly full of milk.
"That's when he caught me. Caesar."
He was young and thin, but not starved like Mulligan. His face was pale and smooth, skin soft looking with round, plump lips. His short black hair was neatly slicked back, and his dark brown eyes were wide as he stared at Mulligan, mouth slightly agape.
"But, instead of shooin' me off or runnin' away or threatenin' to call the cops, instead, he…"
"Come inside."
Caesar grabbed Mulligan's arm, dragging him inside. Despite their height difference, Caesar's grip on Mulligan was firm and steady.
Finally, Caesar brought Mulligan before a sink, piled with dirty dishes.
"My dishwasher just quit," Caesar said. "If you wash dishes for me, I'll pay you. Oh, and you get a free meal everyday. Is that okay?"
Mulligan nodded eagerly, quickly plunging his hands into the sink without another word.
"I thought of Caesar as my savior that day… still do, actually," Mulligan sighed, smiling. "Although Caesar will probably say differently. He'd probably tell ya that I'm the one who saved him. See, this restaurant has always been owned by Caesar's family, The Branzino's, and whenever the oldest son turns 20, they'd inherit it and begin runnin' it. Actually, that's why me and Caesar have to keep our… situation… under wraps. His family is very nice, but also very particular about their family business. They want him to marry some high class doll, or somethin'. They're still tryna pressure Caesar into settlin' down and havin' a kid, too, who can inherit the business when Caesar's retired.
"Anyways, that's still not the end of it. Caesar'd been runnin' this joint for a year or two now, and he was strugglin' from the pressure. Folks kept quittin' on him left and right, called 'im incompetent and whatnot. Took him a while to get his footing… I think it was about two or three months since I'd been hired before things finally quieted down for him n' we actually started gettin' closer.
"And well, I was young. Had nowhere to go. Figured I could say I was gonna stay late and clean, and then hide in the storage or break room to sleep. Caesar thought of me as a model employee–always clockin' in early and out late and workin' hard–but really, I was… takin' advantage of his hospitality. I just had nowhere else to go, and I didn't wanna chance it on the streets again, so what could I do?
"Hah… eventually, I did get caught by Caesar. He had been workin' late, too, finishing up some paperwork or somethin', all while I was busy cleaning the restaurant. He walked out and spotted me, told me he was worried about me and that I should go home…
"So I had to tell him right then 'n there what I'd been doin'. I confessed everythin' told 'im I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere I could shower or rest my head and that this place was all I got. I figured he'd feel mad, upset, betrayed, or that he'd fire me on the spot. But y'know what? He just smiled and told me to come home with him, so I did."
Sanga blinked. "Just like that? You followed him home?"
"Kid, I'd follow him anywhere." Mulligan chuckled, eyes glazing over in bliss. "Sorry, I'm rambling. Probably borin' ya with the details. I can stop-"
Sanga shot forward, startling Mulligan. "No! I want to know more. Please…?"
Mulligan let out a hearty laugh. "Sure. You asked for it."
Caesar unlocked his front door, pushing it open and flicking on the lights. Mulligan's eyes grew wide at the sight of his marble floors and high ceilings decorated with a tall and wide crystal chandelier, encircled by a large spiral staircase. The opposite wall was pure glass, clear as crystal and overlooking the kingdom.
The room was spacious, fitting a sizable kitchen with granite counters and island to the left, a sitting area with three couches—one L shaped—and a giant fireplace to the right, and in the middle was a large dining table decorated with a velvet chiffon table runner and golden candelabra. It was pushed up to the window, offering a full view of the kingdom's nightscape.
Caesar draped his coat over a coathanger in the corner, motioning for Mulligan to hand over his own. His coat looked out of place next to Caesar's, tattered and full of holes, but it seemed like Caesar didn't mind as he guided Mulligan up the stairs.
"The shower and bedroom are up here." Caesar pointed to two doors. "There are towels in the bathroom, and you may help yourself to as much shampoo, conditioner, and soap as you'd like. I'll go make your bed."
Unable to say anything, Mulligan nodded dumbly before stepping into the bathroom. The shower was a walk-in, showerhead placed directly overhead and in the center. The counter was granite as well, and the flooring in the shower was a dark reflective tile with flecks of gold.
Mulligan quickly undressed, starting the shower and stepping in, hugging his torso until the water warmed. He closed his eyes, sighing in comfort and allowing himself to relax. After a few minutes, Mulligan snapped himself out of his trance, looking over at the small niche where bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and moisturizer sat.
What do I use first? Pumping shampoo into his hand, Mulligan stared at the creamy substance before rubbing it into his palms a little and then into his scalp, turning to view himself foaming up his hair in the mirror. He spiked his hair up, laughing at the sight until the water washed it back down
A knock at the door caused him to jump.
"I have a pair of pajamas out here for you. I will leave them by the door."
Mulligan swallowed before eeking out a small "Thank you."
The lack of a response made him realize Caesar had left again. He began humming to himself as he finished washing, taking his time to scrub out as much grit and grime as he could.
When he finished up, he stepped out of the shower, pulling off one of the soft and cottony towels from the rack and drying his sopping hair. Cracking the door open, he pulled the pajamas in. They were a matching silk and red shirt and pants set, lined with white accents. They were cuffed at the wrist and ankle, an embroidered pocket on the shirt and side pockets on the pants. Caesar had also provided him a matching pair of plush slippers, incredibly soft and velvet to the touch.
Draping the towel around his shoulders, he stepped back into the hallway, looking around. A strong, savory scent hit his nose, the sound of sizzling guiding him back down the stairs and towards the kitchen.
Caesar was busy, cooking a dish with an orange looking sauce, a pot of rice set beside the sink on a hot pad. Leather barstools were shoved underneath the lip of the counter, one of which Mulligan pulled out to sit on.
Noticing his appearance at the sound of the stool scraping against tile, Caesar turned, a warm smile spreading across his face.
"Hello. How was your shower?"
"Good," Mulligan mumbled. He twirled his thumbs around each other. Caesar pushed the pot of rice towards Mulligan.
"I just finished making chicken tikka masala. I hope you like curry," Caesar said, bringing over the other pan and placing it on another hot pad.
Mulligan's mouth watered as he peered at the rice and sauce. "Never had it," he admitted, watching as Caesar dished them both up. He handed Mulligan a large plate, piled with rice and topped with sauce.
"You'll have to let me know if you like it." Caesar quickly wiped his hands on his black apron before pulling it over his head, hanging it on the pantry door. He joined Mulligan at the bar, the dishwasher already halfway through his dish.
Caesar laughed, taking his first bite. "I suppose you like it then?"
Mulligan nodded excitedly, unable to speak around a mouthful of food. Caesar pulled another platter closer, tearing off a piece of naan and handing it to Mulligan, who accepted it and ate it hurriedly.
After Mulligan had cleared his plate, he stood, picking up his dish as well. "Thank you for the food."
"Do you want seconds?"
He blinked, eyes darting with clear desire towards the food still in the pans.
"I made a lot," Caesar continued, still eating his first place. "Please, take as much as you'd like."
"Are you… sure?" Mulligan edged towards the pans anyways.
"Of course. Go ahead."
After another three plates of curry, Mulligan finally settled down. He took Caesar's dishes as well as his own, beginning to wash them off until Caesar stopped him.
"Don't worry about washing, just rinse them off," Caesar whispered, a gentle hand on one of Mulligan's own. He bent down, opening up the dishwasher and sliding out the bottom rack. "You may set them in here."
Mulligan nodded and complied, loading the dishwasher as Caesar watched carefully. When all the leftover food had been stored away and all of the pots and pans washed, Caesar guided him up the stairs to the bedroom.
The bed was large, a crimson canopy curtaining around the bedposts, one of the sections bundled and fastened to the post near the headboard. The comforter was smoothed out and covered in piles of pillows.
"You may sleep here." Caesar helped pull pillows off, setting them against the wall. Mulligan sat on the edge, sinking into the soft mattress. "Is it to your liking?"
Mulligan nodded. "Thank you."
"Very good. Now, if you need me, I'll be on the couch."
As soon as Caesar turned to leave, Mulligan grabbed his arm.
"W-wait…" he furrowed his brows. "Don't you have a bed, too?"
"Of course, it's this one. But you are my guest."
Mulligan shook his head, rising to his feet. "I can't accept that. You've provided me with a shower, pajamas, and food already. I cannot take your bed as well. Allow me to take the couch."
"I'm sorry, but you deserve it far more than I do," Caesar insisted. The two of them could only stare at each other, both too stubborn to relent.
"Caesar'd taken me into his own home, gave me a shower, clothes, food, and even offered me his bed. 'Course, I learned nothin' from my father, so I insisted I don't bum around and take up Caesar's bed. I was dead set on sleepin' on the couch, but then-"
"I remember arguing with you for what seemed like hours to get you into bed," a voice came from behind. Mulligan turned in surprise to see Caesar standing behind him, smiling wide. "Eventually, we compromised on both of us sharing the bed together. I kept inviting Mulligan to stay the night and eventually he moved in and, well…"
Caesar nodded to Sanga. "Hello, dear Sanga. I was wondering who was taking up Mulligan's attention. Imagine my surprise when I overheard you asking about me and Mulligan's history."
"Well, I, uh…"Sanga looked down, face turning bright red. "You see, I have a… friend. I want to get closer to him, but he seems to only view me as a friend. We're total opposites, kind of like you two, so I just wanted to know how you guys got closer."
"Have you tried sharing a bed?" Mulligan piped up. This earned him a sharp yet playful jab from Caesar.
"Mulligan!"
Mulligan stuck his tongue out in a joking matter as Sanga's face turned even redder.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Sanga added, "We… We already did that. But he seemed freaked out about it, like he didn't want to be with someone like me anymore."
Mulligan and Caesar exchanged knowing looks. Sighing, Mulligan leaned forward, folding his arms over the table. "Look, kid. Love is… it's complicated. The best thing you can do is be there for him, listen to what he wants and needs, do favors for him without expecting anything in return… stuff like that."
"Hmm. Easy for you to say," Caesar huffed. "I remember you saying you'd fold the laundry but only if I gave you-"
"ANYWAYS," Mulligan coughed, cutting off Caesar. "There are tons of different ways you can show your love for this guy. Like uh, help him take care of something that's bothering him! Remember, Caesar, when you kept complaining about the lights flickering in the bedroom and I went 'n changed 'em for you?"
Caesar leaned in, planting a tiny kiss on his cheek. "Yes, I do. And I remember thanking you for that."
"I remember that," Mulligan quieted.
Take care of something bothering him? Sanga thought. His eyes shifted to the invitation he'd stashed in his bag. His eyes widened.
"Thank you, you two, I think I know what I should do! I'll head out now. Thank you for talking with me on your break, Mulligan." Sanga bowed deeply, straightening out his hair and bag before rushing upstairs.
"Don't sweat it, kid. Hope everything goes well!" Mulligan called after him.
Sanga pulled the invitation out of his bag, glancing at the time on the invitation.
"Don't worry, Nate. I'll help you somehow."
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
Nate yawned, sitting up in bed. His head no longer pounded, but he still silently made the resolution to never drink again. He slid out of bed, groaning to himself as he did so.
It was starting to get dark outside, he noticed as he passed by the open window. A nightly chill brushed past, causing him to shudder.
Heading towards the hoodie he'd haphazardly tossed on the trashy couch, he blinked when he realized it wasn't familiar.
Instead of the hoodie Nate thought he'd grabbed, there was instead a plush, wool cardigan, nearly the exact same color as his own hoodie.
Crap. Must've accidentally grabbed this from Sanga's on my way out. He picked it up, thumbing across the soft material. I better give this back to him tomorrow-
An object clattered to the floor, falling from the cardigan's pocket. Nate bent down, eyeing that familiar, plastic rectangular shape.
Turning the card over in his hands, he found himself looking back at Sanga. His long hair was tied up, loose strands falling down and framing his thin face. He had a subtle smile, those sharp canines of his poking out from beneath his upper lip. His eyes were halflidded like normal, gazing at the camera with a relaxed intensity.
This is Sanga's employee card… I better go back and give it to him so he can clock in when he works tomorrow morning. Nate thought, pocketing it into his shorts. He stood, staring out the window, at the sun sinking ever lower. It is getting dark. I could always wait until morning and then give him his card before he goes in… no, no, it's better to give it back to him now.
Nate headed back to his room, slipping a proper shirt over his head and sliding his shoes on, sliding his finger between his ankle and the shoe to smooth out a crease.
The train ride back to the center of the kingdom was peaceful and quiet. By the time it rolled to a stop and Nate hopped off, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon. His head tilted up, gazing at the stars and the moon.
It seemed like every night, less and less stars dotted the sky. Perhaps he was just mistaken, perhaps he was paranoid. He shrugged it off, dashing from the train platform as fast as he could.
Sanga lived in a nice area. There were very few houses, but all with nice views of the distant sea and the Spades Range.
Didn't really think about it too much, but Sanga must be loaded. Why's he working as a waiter in a restaurant? Oh well, I suppose he just wants to pass the time.
Nate knocked on the door and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, he sighed, about to turn around when he remembered Sanga's words from that morning.
"Nate, you're always welcome over any other time. You can even walk right in through the front door, I always leave it unlocked."
That's right. He says I can just walk in! But… should I? The lights aren't on, so it doesn't seem like he's home. Oh, that's right! The reunion. Maybe he's there right now. He paced around in thought, his hand balling into a fist over his mouth. I could leave his card under the doormat, but I don't want it to get lost or stolen. Maybe I could just slip in, place it on his dresser, and slip out? Yeah, that should be fine. He told me I can just go inside, afterall.
Nate inhaled deeply and then exhaled, before pushing the door open and heading inside, closing the door behind him. A cool chill rushed over his body as he stepped into the foyer, Sanga's employee ID clutched in his hand.
He really is rich, just leaving his door unlocked like this. Nate, curiously, peeked around Sanga's house, not daring to step too far. There's no family photos or decorations. His home is really plain.
Nate thought back to Sanga's room. The giant bed, covered in giant patterned pillows and elegant throws and dark blackout curtains. His mind wandered from the bed to waking up next to Sanga.
Maybe I shouldn't have freaked out like that. He seemed… upset. Maybe I offended him?
Nate took a few steps before lightly hitting himself in the head with his palm.
Nate, you idiot! Of course you offended him. You acted like waking up beside him was some sort of terrible mistake… Nate sighed as he headed to the staircase, preparing to ascend the steps. I was just worried I'd acted indecently last night! Oh, well… I'll just have to make it up to him. He wants to know who you have a crush on. Surely it'll be okay if it's him, right?
As Nate began to walk up, he noticed a door to the side slightly ajar, revealing steps leading down below, muffled noises coming from the basement. A sawing sound echoed up the basement steps.
Is Sanga here, then? It sounds like he's sawing something. Maybe he's got a workshop down there? Does he like woodworking? Nate descended the steps again, hesitating by the basement steps. He crouched, trying to peek down but unable to see anything of note due to the sudden turn of the steps.
I can go let Sanga know that I let myself in. He won't get upset, right? I'll tell him I accidentally grabbed his cardigan and found his employee ID, so I'm bringing it back and-
The sawing noises stopped and a voice, dripping with hatred, sliced through the air.
"You should've thought more carefully about messing with the one I care about. Tsk, tsk, tsk… now look where it's gotten you. Truthfully, I should have done this years ago."
Nate reached the bottom of the steps, the ceiling departing from his view and unveiling the scene before him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You can't respond, haha. Not anymore. You're…"
Sanga's voice trailed off as his eyes slowly trailed over to see Nate. He was leaning over a silver table in the middle of the room, a body spread out upon it. On a counter behind him lay sawed off limbs, gingerly wrapped up in plastic.
"...dead." Sanga's mouth was pressed against the body's throat, blood dripping from his lips. He quickly straightened up, swiping the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood across his chin.
Nate's eyes flicked from Sanga to the body, taking in the familiar features of rust colored hair.
"C-Colby?" Nate choked out, stepping back.
"Nate- I- it's not what it looks like, it's just I-" Sanga held his hands up, rounding the corner of the table and approaching him. His eyes became upturned, begging and pleading.
Instead, Nate stumbled backwards, his foot catching on a step and causing him to fall. Sanga rushed over to him, arms outstretched, but before he could get too close, Nate held out Sanga's employee card in one hand and his cardigan in the other.
"I was just… I'm just… I'm bringing you your ID card and your cardigan," Nate stammered, arms trembling. Sanga ignored the objects, pushing past his outstretched arms and placing his hands on Nate's shoulders. Looking up, Nate finds himself unable to look into Sanga's eyes. Instead, he focuses on the blood staining his bottom lip.
"Nate, please, let me explain first, I-" Sanga began desperately.
"Sanga, is that… is… did you kill Colby?"
His brows upturned, lower lip quivering as he released his hold on Nate, lowering his head and speaking seriously.
"I did. I lured him back here and I killed him for you."
Nate was still staring at Sanga's lips, finally reaching up to swipe a thumb across it, wiping away the residual blood. Sanga's pupils enlarged as he leaned into Nate's touch.
"Are you… eating him?"
"Yes." Sanga looked away embarrassed, like a scolded puppy. "Nate, you must understand… when I was young, I was cursed… forced to take on an unbearable weight if I wanted to keep living."
Nate studied Sanga's face, his deep frown and guilt-wracked eyes. He waited, patient, as Sanga struggled to find his next words.
"Nate, the thing is, I… I need to consume mortal flesh everyday to live. It… it sounds stupid, I know, but it-"
"You need to consume mortal flesh?"
" I- uh- y… yes. I-"
"And you need to consume it everyday to live?"
Sanga started to sound exasperated. "Yes, that is what I said, Nate. I need-"
"Then eat me." Nate's amber eyes went cold, causing Sanga to back up in surprise. "And only me."
"Nate, I can't do that, I can't just-"
Sanga's eyes darted around, brows scrunched up in worry. Nate's hand reached up to Sanga's cheek again, brushing his thumb around the corner of Sanga's mouth.
"Trust me, Sanga. I've got a curse, too."
"What cu-" Sanga made a choking sound when Nate slid his thumb into his mouth. He gasped, but Nate tightened his grip, pulling him closer.
"Bite me."
Eyes widening, Sanga scanned Nate's face filled with total sincerity. Swallowing, he gave Nate's thumb a tentative gnaw. Nate nodded encouragingly. Tears welled in Sanga's eyes as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against Nate's as he closed his eyes.
Sanga's jaw opened a little wider before he bit down.
Nate's world faded to black.