Chapter Text
“Foolish, that was…the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”
The looming totem stares down at his small friend from the hiding spot he made in her hanging greenery, frowning, before sneezing from a stray leaf tickling his nose.
Tina’s room had always smelled like various concoctions of foods, completely diverse, mixing with the fresh plants growing across her walls. Outside her opened balcony door, sounds of chirping birds fly past with the morning sun, and the air grows warmer as night forfeits its hold on the world. Blistering red and gleaming tangerine wisps hit where the sky meets land, their morning rising in unknown hues; there’s a splash of blue, some lilac tones, and colors beyond description. Each different star still visible underneath the distant clouds, clear, close enough to touch, and they shine in Tina’s face as she stands menacingly in front of Foolish. The downward strike of her eyebrows highlighted with blazing anger.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he defends himself.
“‘It wasn’t that bad’? ‘It wasn’t that bad’?! Foolish, you left me in charge of the whole Northern military! How is that not bad?” Tina runs a hand over her face, pacing. “At first I thought you two had finally pulled your heads out of your asses—”
“Woah, hey.”
“—and talked to each other about your feelings—”
“What?”
“—but no! You decided to make a scene out of nowhere, ruining our rank system in two seconds. Aldo is leaving to become Ash’s bride, or husband, or whatever! And I can’t handle the military by myself. I can't even win a fight against you!”
Tina pulls at her own hair, not making an attempt to conceal her concerns, her nails digging into her own palm helplessly. The reality of her predicament finally setting in. She looks at him with searching eyes, trying to figure out what the shark totem was thinking, but only draws a blank.
There was no reward to this terrible decision besides keeping Juan safe.
He hesitates, jumping down from his hiding spot to lean against the counter beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and making an attempt to say something reassuring to quell her anxiety.
“If it makes you feel better, Aldo agreed to the plan last night.”
Oh, yeah. That was very reassuring.
Tina pushes him away, and drops her head onto the counter with a loud thud. “Of course. Of course he did. He made a secret plan for the union, didn’t he? Infiltrate The Regime, get classified information, and keep us safe.” She shoots him a dubious look. "But did he know he’d be married off?”
Foolish sweats. “No… he uh, he didn't know about that part.”
“Does he even know what he’ll do when Ash finds out this was all a lie?”
“Probably not.”
Tina sighs, but stops pushing her head further into the wooden counter. “I’m surrounded by complete idiots, I don't know why I’m friends with you guys.”
“Because you love us?”
“‘Cause I was cursed to live in the same house as you morons” Tina pulls herself upright, and turns to Foolish, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’ll give Aldo a piece of my mind later. But you! What are you going to do?”
“About?”
“Juan. You have to talk about it, Foolish. You can’t just keep hiding in my room forever.”
“I’m not hiding,” he puffs out his cheeks.
“Please. It’s obvious you’re avoiding the problem you created.” Tina pauses. “Juan was trying to find you after you practically ran away from our meeting. He looked pissed. I think he’s turning the mansion upside down looking for you… if what Molly says is true.”
Foolish sighs, the meeting finally settling in his bones, a certain issue he’s been avoiding.
Moving away from the secluded corner and into open space, he steps out onto the balcony, watching the horizon. He breathes in the damp beam of the sun, drinks it, heaven nestled between his own two lips. Each wisp of light grasping into his heart, clinging to that once-shattered soul, and attempting to heal damage that could never be reached.
The memories of people that are long gone.
He can admit he’s felt this way before; known mortals who had stirred his heart into life again, but none of them had made him feel so human before; none of them had ever made him so angry, so worried, so helpless, and he’s sure everyone on the island can see the adoration splayed on his face too. That’s probably why they had booked them couples therapy, or would say ‘you argue like you’re married’ aloud, but those small details only served to fluster Juan more. They would vehemently deny being anything more than friends, and it cracked the totem's pride slowly, making him cautiously walk eggshells over their newfound dynamic.
He couldn’t exactly ask, ‘what are we?’. He didn’t even know if the feelings were real, or some form of twisted attachment tied to one singular human being.
That human being Juan.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, avoiding Tina’s gaze. “He needed help, and I helped him. So what if we have to fool The Regime into thinking we’re married for a while…? This’ll blow over.”
“But the marriage certificate won't ‘blow over’. It’ll be real this time.”
Foolish grimaces at that fact.
“Whatever. It can always be overturned, and we’ll get a divorce after the dust settles.”
He can feel the pity radiating off his closest friend in heavy doses, a kind of sadness that she wore vibrantly on her face, so he refuses to look at her. She walks towards him, the small tip-tap of shoes clacking against wooden tiles, only stopping when she rests against the balcony railings too. They stare out into the open world together. The sight of morning quelling the jitterness of night, and Foolish’s Kelpamine dragon in full view. He doesn't know when he’ll get to work on it next, with all the chaos unfolding around him.
“Would you really want that though?”
He hums, “want what?”
“To get divorced and pretend like it never happened.”
He takes a minute to answer, reeling, head spinning helplessly with an unknown sickness: Would he want that? He and Juan had only known each other for a month, at this point, and only a fraction of their time was spent together. The constant fights, endless bickering, but dazed moments of kindness spewing through each crevice in his brain. They argued like their lives were on the line, belittled each other most times, yet Juan was always there for him when he needed it most.
Did Foolish want to ruin their rocky foundation for a chance to play house?
He gulps, hand finding comfort in forming something akin to a chokehold against his neck, an action that seemed more harmful than comforting.
“Of course,” Foolish laughs, but it sounds more punched-out and airy than normal. “We don’t love each other. He’s free to go and be with anyone he chooses after. Hell, he can even run back to Cucurucho for all I care.” He narrows his eyes, thinking. “Actually, no. No, he’s not allowed to run back to that asshole. Juan deserves better than that.”
Tina’s frown only grows as he rambles on. She understood him better than anyone, so she knew when not to bug. The topics about Juan became a frequent thing between them, but slowly, Foolish had learned to shut down any conversation regarding his unwanted attraction to the little mortal who had become a thorn in his side. Tina opens her mouth, but no words come out. She closes her lips, letting out the tiniest, uncertain hum.
“If you say so,” she whispers, “but have you ever considered that you could be good for him? for each other? Follow your heart, and not your head, you dumb-dumb.”
Foolish laughs. It’s a hollow thing.
Tina shoots him a look, before her gaze lowers down swiftly, as if seeing something pop-up in her vision, and Foolish tilts his head in curiosity. Fully concentrated on the corner of her eye, she barely notices when he waves a hand in front of her face, his own anxiety creeping up on him because who was she messaging at a time like this?
“What are you doing?”
She stares at him, trying to make a straight face, but the sound of oncoming footsteps breaks her composure and she barely holds the giggles in. “You’re going to talk this out whether you want to or not. Molly told me someone is storming his way here, and he’s an unstoppable force of nature.”
Foolish shoots her a betrayed look.
The clack of shoes stops just outside the door, and immediately, loud knocks erupt, filling the room with anticipation. Juan only gets past the second set of rapid bangs, before Tina jogs to open the door. He doesn’t say anything as he walks past her, towards Foolish, only stopping once he reaches the glass doors to Tina’s balcony.
There’s a dangerous silence in his wake.
“Tina.” He looks back, a small, well-meaning smile on his face that seems a tad bit tense. “Would you give me and my…esposo a moment alone?”
Foolish stomach flutters at those words. He speaks quietly, his eyes never leaving Juan, even as the other’s looking away. It’s frightening seeing him so calm, yet angry, that it sends a shock of electricity running through his veins. “She, uh… Tina already knows.. about the fake marriage. I told her.”
Their second in command plus-plus looks at him surprised for a moment, then runs a hand down his face, leveling a heavy glare at the shark totem. He points a finger, the next words spoken in agitation. “¡Oh genial… estupendo! ¡No tienes ningún puto problema en decirle todo a ella, pero yo no puedo saber una mierda!”” Still, he turns to Tina, his angered tone simmering down and turning into a sweet lull, words simple to put his point across. “Sorry. I need to speak with this motherfucker alone.”
From behind his back, the shark totem shakes his head aggressively, whispering the words 'don't go’, only for it to fall flat.
“Knock yourself out,” Tina responds, grinning ear-to-ear. “I need to speak with Aldo anyway.”
He mouths a small ‘traitor’ at her, to which she only salutes, running out of the room like her life depended on it.
“Good luck! And don’t do anything weird on my bed!”
Foolish furrows his eyebrows at the slight flush covering Juan’s face, reaching below the collar, and a slight frown begins to lace the totem's lips as he remembers the time Cucurucho had seduced the smaller man in this very room. Juan couldn’t possibly be thinking about something like that right now, could he? Why did Tina say that when it brought up memories of Juan's messy fling?
“What is…with the face?” The smaller man asks, tilting his head in curiosity before shaking the thoughts away visibly. “No, nevermind. I don’t care. I just need to know why you said all that… that shit.”
Straight to the point, never one to let the bandaid fall off by itself, preferring to rip it off and touch the festering wound beneath with contaminated fingers.
Foolish stares at him, suddenly nervous. “I was…I was saving you?”
“By saying we’re married?” Juan says, deadpan, crossing his arms and angling his head up to glare at Foolish. “That is… the dumbest thing I've ever heard. How could you be so dumb, Foolish?”
“It was the best idea I could think of at the time!”
“Yeah, well, it was stupid.” Juan grimaces, moving to lean against the railing like Tina had done. “Now we have to act married in front of people—in front of our friends! Ash is going to find out and kill us. We’re dead. The North is dead, all because of your dumb plan!”
“You should feel happy I saved you!”
He glares at him again. “Happy? You want me to feel happy about being married against my will? To you?”
“Yeah.” Foolish tries to ignore the way his fingers begin to clench into fists, biting the inside of his cheek. “At least you don’t have to marry Ash now, right?”
“Right, right. But you didn’t stop to think if I’d want Ash over you.”
The response is thoughtless, barely even passing through his brain, and already stumbling out of his mouth in a sneer. Juan pauses, immediately distraught, and his head shoots up to look at Foolish. Weightless hands slip from the railing. Foolish takes a deep breath in, his head turning to the sunset, emerald eyes that hadn’t strayed from Juan’s face now looking anywhere but him. He hadn’t meant for the sentence to sound so full of hatred. He didn’t mean it at all. Being with Foolish was a hundred times better than spending his life with the enemy, but his words were anger-laced, full of misplaced ire about their unfortunate situation.
“Ouch, okay.” The shark totem whispers, stunned. “I thought that I’d be a better option than, oh I don’t know, a rival nation...” He closes his eyes. “…but if that's what you really think, we can run after The Regime and tell them it was a joke, or something?”
Juan hesitates to speak, but his actions are automatic.
He reaches for the totem's arm, holding onto it with unknown strength, forcing him to stay in place. “Foolish, I, I did not… you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m… mad. I felt betrayed that you didn’t tell me, especially when you ran away before we could talk, but I didn’t mean what I said.”
Foolish is silent. His hands grip onto the railing, nearly cracking the material underneath, and Juan only knew that by the flex of his wrist. He tries desperately to keep their fragile relationship from cracking.
“It was a careless comment. You’re my closest ally. I would not trade your friendship for anything.”
“If you say so.”
Foolish didn’t understand. Not really, at least. How could you say something you didn’t mean? Still, he skips along the conversation, not wanting to dwell on the aching feelings he denied himself. He grins, wicked, and jokes despite not being in the mood to.
“Does that mean you don’t want me to go find Ash? I’m sure he’d still be happy to marry you instead of Aldo.” The shark totem jokes, leaning more into Juan’s body heat, the oppressive quiet fading into quiet snickers.
Juan sighs in relief, just happy to hear Foolish’s voice return to normal.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You must be looking in a mirror.”
They stand side-by-side for quite some time, basking in the sunrays hitting their tired faces, and the feeling of warmth becoming stronger with every passing second they leaned together. Juan watched Foolish curiously, so entranced by how motionless he was, and incredibly unused to seeing the shark totem stay still for this long. From here, up close enough to graze his fingers against the golden skin, the curve of his arm, the thin pieces of hair clinging to his forehead, Juan notices the tension in the totem’s body seep away slowly. He almost looks...
Juan shakes his head.
He tries to imagine anything else besides that stray thought.
“I think they would have put me in a purple dress.” He says aloud, breaking the calmness, and hand leaning against the railing to support his head as he tilts, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Maybe something with a big bow… or a veil…maybe some purple flowers to match Ash.”
“Yeah, they would’ve,” Foolish chuckles loudly. “Meticulous bastards.”
“At least I would have looked good in them... What kind of clothing are you gonna put on me when we get married?” Juan hums out the question innocently. He flushes, though, noticing the way it sounded only after it left his tongue. “I mean—when we get married in front of everyone to keep up the act! I assume you have a plan?”
Foolish scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t… think that far?” He says, but it sounds more like a question. “I mean, I guess I could wear the dress if you don’t want to.”
Juan blinks, rapid, eyebrows raised comedically.
He lets out a loud, unfiltered laugh that rings around the open area, drifting into the air, bubbling like a drink overflowing past its rim. The sound blesses Foolish’s ears. He watches with intense examination the way Juan’s adam's apple bobs up with every deeply inhaled breath, the corners of his eyes growing moist with tears, and his fingers attempting to hide the widest grin. Listening to the broken gasps, each raw chuckle or adorable giggle that slips past his lips, and Foolish tries to stomp out the cinders of affection before they have time to kindle a flame.
He looks away, and for the first time since seeking that mesmerizing voice, he tries to fall out of love with it.
To spare himself the heartbreak.
To save Juan from the uncertainty of an immortal’s adoration.
“Did you tell anyone about our…problem?” Foolish questions after the laughing subsides.
“No. I’m not stupid like you.”
“I only told Tina!”
“That’s one too many.”
“You’re acting like a child.” Foolish glares half-heartedly at him. “I’m being serious here. We need to keep this between us and figure out a plan. There’s no way they’re going to buy that we’re married.”
“I know. You should have thought of that before telling everyone we were.”
“There was a time limit!”
“A time limit we didn’t know about,” Juan says, raising his head high and giving Foolish a nasty look that Foolish immediately matches. He rips out the emerald necklace he had been gifted before. “Speaking of, how did you know we’d need these?”
“Oh.” Foolish barely glances at it. “I assumed you all knew what Vegetta meant when he said “taking someone as a trophy”. I got that made last second with my pair of emerald earrings. Cool, right?”
“What about the…the marriage certificate?”
“Forged it. It’s pretty easy to make fake legal documents when you actually have friends.” When he looks up, Juan is staring at him with mild annoyance in his gaze, opening his mouth as if to start another fight. “What? Finding your signature was easy, I just took a paper from your office and—”
“You were in my office?!” Juan screams. “Motherfucker! Who said you could go in there?!”
Foolish shrugs, choosing not to answer that particular question.
“Back to our problem,” he says instead. “We need to talk about our boundaries.”
“Don’t change the subject! How did you—what? What boundaries?”
“Well, in the eyes of everyone else, we’re married. I think everyone on the island’ll know by sunrise, with how gossip spreads here.” Foolish hums. “We have to really sell the act.”
“By like, holding hands, or something?”
“Yeah…something like that.” He lies, threading his palms together in nervousness, popping the joints of his fingers anxiously. “We should…talk to Vegetta, too.”
“Stop that,” Juan scolds, swatting at the totem hands. “And why would we bug him? He doesn’t need to know about our little lie.”
“He’s our leader…!”
Juan huffs, ignoring Foolish’s indignant protests, and turns around to continue towards the door. Foolish follows aimlessly, barely three steps behind, his one-track mind focusing on keeping pace with the smaller man. The casa seems empty. Its halls are barren of life, besides the villagers sectioned off in their corridor, and the lack of shouting from surrounding rooms tells the tale of an abandoned house. Leaving Tina’s room, Juan leads them next door into Foolish’s large space, letting them have a more comfortable conversation without the concerns of prying ears.
Camila Camello barely rises from her spot on Foolish’s bed at their arrival.
“Vegetta is busy building a fake venue for a fake wedding. Whatever we do can be discussed between the two of us. If more people know the truth, it won’t be a secret.”
Foolish sighs, loud enough to grate Juan’s nerves. “I’m more worried about our rooms than our fake venue.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, as a married couple, we’ll have to sleep together.” He responds flippantly, motioning to the bed Camila slept on, then towards the glass covering the whole outside portion of his wall. “In a room everyone can see into. And there’s a chance Vegetta will give one of our rooms away to a new North member…”
“…Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’.”
Juan sneers, bringing his arms together and facing away from the totem. “This is all your fault, Foolish.”
“So it’s my fault now? I didn't make the room!”
“But you caused all this!” Juan shouts. “And now you’re blaming Vegetta for it…? How rude.”
“Wha—huh?! No, I’m not blaming Vegetta!” Foolish yells back, pointing an accusatory finger at Juan. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I’m just saying that we’ll have to get used to…having zero privacy, in a house where everyone is interested in knowing everything. That’s all.”
“You are saying they will try to spy on us?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not so bad. It already happens.”
Foolish frowns. “You’re too calm about this.”
Juan sighs in response. “It’s not anything new, our walls are thin.” He says, inclining his head at Foolish with a weak grin. “I just can’t believe I have to do this with you.”
“There you go again…!”
“Not a bad thing!” He defends. “Really. I’m glad it’s you, rather than…Roier, or Senpai. We’re friends after all. It’ll be easier to pretend this way.” He smiles, hitting Foolish playfully with a loosely closed fist, and shooting back the words the totem had told him atop the casa. The term ‘friends’ was growing repetitive. “We’ll figure it out. Trust me.”
He walks back outside the room before the totem can speak in protest.
“Okay.”
Foolish stares at Juan’s retreating form, the door opening, before he’s left alone with his thoughts. He gulps, hesitant, the concept of spending time constantly around the object of his affections filling him with untameable anxiety, and he runs a hand through his tousled hair. He doesn’t know if he can do it. He looks at his own room, barely glancing at the camel, before sending a private chat to Juan.
[why did you leave?]
[we still need to talk]
And when there’s no response after five minutes, he asks: [your room or mine?]
Juan messages back instantly.
[yours]
[i dont want you messing up my room]
Foolish huffs out a chuckle, staring at the side of his vision for too long, and shutting off chat. Yeah, we’ll be fine, he thinks as he maneuvers past Camila to fluff out his extra pillow. They were just two friends pretending to be married, there was no love involved, so there was nothing to worry about.
It’s not like this would blow up in their faces, afterall.
︵‿₊୨🌻🦈୧₊‿︵
There’s a knock at his door.
“Come in!” Foolish yells, expecting Juan to re-enter, only to be confused when he turns around to see their war general.
“Oh..? Uh, hello!”
Aldo does not seem as interested in the exuberant greetings.
The world is warping around him, small glimmers of hazy lines radiating from his body, and bags beneath his eyes like the lack of sleep was getting to him. He’d never had trouble staying up days in a row before. Energy seeped out of every object in the room, absorbing into him, diluting his image into someone completely devoid of energy. He looks like a moving corpse. The man stumbles forward, leaning onto the nearest object, and nearly toppling onto Foolish’s skeletons that were placed beside the table. He grimaces.
“I’m getting married to Ash.” He says, sounding like reality had finally set in. “I’m engaged to Ash.”
“Yes,” Foolish hesitantly nods, “that is what you agreed to.”
“And you’re getting married to Juan.”
He says it with a certain tone that Foolish doesn’t entirely like. Judging, mean-spirited, and while he wants to make his own distaste for Aldo’s vibe known, he understands the general is reeling from his own betrothal to The Regime’s leader. He cannot blame him for his attitude in a time like this.
“Only to keep up appearances.” He hums. “But I'm guessing you’re not taking the news too well?”
“And you are?”
Foolish scratches the back of his head, avoiding Aldo’s blazing glare.
“Surprisingly, yes. We talked like adults…I think.” He pauses, contemplating their previous conversation and the way Juan had run out of the room, likely preparing for his stay in Foolish’s room. “And, um, I guess we agreed that it’d be easy to pretend. Because we’re friends.”
“You guys are friends?” Aldo scrunches his eyebrows.
“I—well, yeah? We’ve been friends for a while now...” Foolish stammers. “Why would I plan to fake a marriage with him if we weren't friends?”
Aldo doesn’t respond for a concerning amount of time.
“You two argue so much, I thought it was a plan to keep us safe,” he says, finally, “to keep Juan from betraying us and giving information to The Regime.”
A bucket of water feels like it had been poured over Foolish’s head, cold, and he stills at the words. His eyes turn from openly hesitant to a maddened glare, directing it at Aldo, who shrivels up at the sight.
The shark totems pupils turn pure black.
“I’m going to say this once, and only once.” Foolish paces forward, stopping just before Aldo, his teeth bared in warning. “Juan would never betray The North. You can question my loyalties all you like, or anyone else’s, but never, even for a second, doubt Juan's allegiance to us.”
Aldo knows he cannot win a physical fight against the totem. Foolish had thrown him to the ground too many times during their spars, but still, the general stands tall. A true show of courage in the face of adversity.
“He would rather die than betray The North.”
“How can you guarantee his loyalty?” He questions, emotions shielded away. “He hasn’t done anything to prove it. All he’s ever done is butter up The Regime when they visit. You can’t blame me for being skeptical.”
Foolish huffs, disengaging with the small man in favor of setting up another chest for Juan. Aldo is right, but he doesn’t know the half of it; he doesn’t know of Juan’s avoidance of conflict. “If he ever betrayed us, I’d kill him myself.” He looks at Aldo in complete confidence, so sure of their second in command plus-plus. “But I know I’ll never have to do that. He’s loyal to a fault, the same way Vegetta is to his subjects, and the same way you are to protect us from harm.”
They’re at a stalemate for twenty seconds, then, the General nods—seemingly comforted by the statement—and walks out the door. Before he leaves, he gives one more parting sentence:
“I trust you to keep that promise, Foolish.”
︵‿₊୨🌻🦈୧₊‿︵
Juan comes back significantly late.
The next night had already settled in, and officially, it had been a full day since Foolish had proclaimed Juan his husband. Not many people bugged them during that time. There were a few private messages here and there, usually scolding Foolish for not telling them sooner, and others congratulating them on their sudden marriage; they all seemed so sure in their sentiments, like they knew this was coming, and he withered under their excitement.
Foolish didn’t know how to feel.
But he didn’t have to think about it either, not when Juan was there to keep his undivided attention.
He comes back with hands full of packaged supplies, a small frown on his face, and Foolish nearly develops wrinkles from how fast his smile falls. “What’s wrong?” He asks. “You look weird. Did something happen?”
Juan’s frown deepens, not taking the bait to argue.
“No, nothing happened.” He says, voice in a near whisper, but not shying away like he usually did. “Just…well, I met up with a certain friend of yours in the hallway. He was trying to say a few… things… about our… ‘relationship’.” Juan looks to totem, mouth a thin line.
“Who?” He asks, and immediately follows up with: “What things?”
Juan, however, ignores those questions.
“Foolish, be truthful. Will I have to fight off all your exes for being fake married to you?”
He chokes on air.
“What? No. Why are you asking that? Who were you even talking to?”
“One of your previous lovers.” Juan responds. There’s an attempt to conceal the scowl displayed on his face, but Foolish sees it anyway. He’s confused by the reaction, but even more confused by the statement.
“Lovers? I don’t think I…”
The shark totem tries to think of any of the possible candidates, and comes up empty handed. He’s been celibate for far too long, and even though he flirted with a large number of people, he didn’t actually pursue them romantically.. aside from two who resided in The North alongside him…but that was in the far past. He was on decent terms with them, at least, but the love never lasted. People are fragile like that; they move on, settle down, and form new attachments. Their languages form and fade with time, like the lost texts etched into stone, or abandoned cities that lay in ruin, humanity was always destined to come and go. Foolish knew that. He tried to settle down many times, but his undying nature made it hard to keep connections strong, for he mourned these humans before they had ever left.
Still, he gulps down the bitter emotions, choosing to ignore the plight altogether.
“I don’t have a...recent…‘lover’.”
“Then why did Quackity prance in here looking for you?” He asks. “And end up trying to argue with me?”
Foolish grimaces.
Out of all the possible options, he hadn’t expected Quackity to be on that list.
“I don’t understand that guy half the time…” The totem admits, folding his arms behind his back shyly. “I may have complimented his ass once or twice, maybe three times, but I’ve never dated him.”
Juan inspects him, as if trying to figure out if Foolish is telling the truth. He nods in approval, depositing his things onto the open table, and the totem’s stomach grows giddy like he had passed a test. Maybe he did. The constipated look Juan had exhibited upon entering the room is no longer dwelling in his expression, instead, a small, almost non-existent smile takes its place.
Yeah, Foolish thinks, I definitely passed a test.
They spend the night figuring out their spots in his room, bantering about the smallest of things, like the way Foolish positioned his interior, or Camila Camello’s newspaper pads (that Juan had put there himself!), and even the peaking hole that had been carved into the side of Foolish’s room—Juan fixes it, to stop the breeze, he reasoned.
Soon enough, the two of them can’t stall any further. They finally talk about their most important issue. The one they’ve been mutually avoiding.
The sleeping situation.
They stop just before the bed, staring at each other. Juan wrinkles his nose. It’s a big bed, sure, but not big enough to give either of them the space they wanted—that they needed. With Foolish’s absurd height, and Juan’s ability to sprawl out his limbs while knocked out cold, it was obvious that this would be their biggest problem. A divorce worthy problem. Juan turns to Foolish, a gleam in his eyes.
“You can sleep on the floor.”
“What?!” The totem screams. “It’s my room!”
“Which means you’ll sleep on the floor.” he nods sagely.
“Nuh-uh. I’m sleeping on the bed. You can sleep on the floor.”
Rather than responding, Juan jumps onto the bed splayed like a cat, his arms and feet extending to the edges. Foolish makes a scandalized face, hands gripping at his ankle and attempting to pull the man off, but ultimately fails. Instead of prying the man off, the totem falls on top of Juan. The smaller man groans, clawing at golden skin and yelling obscenities into the night air, and Foolish laughs at the sight; the weakness of mankind displayed before his eyes.
“Fuck you!” Juan screams, nails scratching but unable to penetrate his golden skin, but he’s able to shimmy to his side, looking up at the totem with a heated glare. His hair is messy, bandana loosened significantly, and lips spread to show the sharpness of his canines.
Foolish had to stop himself from pressing a finger against the cuspid. Juan, as if reading his mind, swivels his head to bite the nearest finger, and the totem jolts away. Why did that hurt? He asks himself, feeling the sharpness of the poke, the golden blood seeping from the bite. How did he hurt me?
“Let go of me!”
Foolish looks down at him, newfound adrenaline filling his body, so unused to pain. “No.”
He doesn’t give the smaller man any leeway, entertained by Juan’s struggle, but with every passing second the smaller man grows steadily panicked. It’s scary, the way reality sets in. The crushing weight only reminded him of their vast differences in strength, in weight class, in everything. A mortal will always be lesser than the undying.
“I’m—I'm serious! Let me go, Foolish!”
His voice is breathless, on the verge of hyperventilating, and Foolish’s narrowed eyes widen in surprise. He relinquishes his grip. Juan, as if seeing a beast for the first time, scrambles away, his back pressed against the backboard of the bed. He’s called Foolish a monster before, jokingly, but now the image is plastered in his head of a large entity with immense power; he doesn’t know if it’s a joke anymore.
“I’m sorry, Juan, I—”
“No.” The smaller man says. “No. No me hables.”
“But…”
“But nothing!” Juan hisses, throwing a pillow at Foolish. “I don’t want to…to speak to you right now.” He curls up into a small corner of the bed, above the covers and not facing Foolish. Face flushed in rage, or fear. “Maybe tomorrow, but not right now.”
A crushing burden falls down on the shark totem.
His gut is full of regret, a sick feeling digging in the walls of his stomach, and he nods numbly, despite Juan not seeing the gesture. He knows he’s done something wrong, even if he didn’t realize it at the time. His immortality cannot be an excuse for every little mishap he commits against humans. Foolish learned that lesson years ago, with his… his late daughter.
He chokes down the emotions, memories still raw and new.
The totem moves to his alchemy stand, fists clenching, and attempts to keep his attention elsewhere, instead of on his dwindling friendship with Juan. His gaze never strays back towards the bundle of blankets. When the smaller man starts snoring, loudly, after two hours of silence, it’s obvious he’s out cold. Foolish decides to finally sleep in turn.
He grabs his pillow, and lays down on the cold, hard floor beside the bed.
︵‿₊୨🌻🦈୧₊‿︵
Somewhere, far beyond the various mountain ranges of The North, and nestled below heavy stone formations, a problem begins to brew.
“Are the tests almost finished?” A mysterious man asks, fingers tracing the delicate tube, the green inside illuminating the darkness of the room around them. A hand slams down on the glass where he traces, and in surprise, he jumps back. “Shit!”
“Yes. The specimen is nearly fully formed. We will enact Operation Solidarity right on schedule.” The entity responds mutely with a sign, staring. “Be prepared for it.”
“Good, good.” He whispers back, adrenaline still pumping in his heart. “I’m glad we began to see eye to eye… our partnership will be legendary, and our mission is—!”
The man looks back, only to find himself alone.