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Carlos is standing in front of the mirror when Cecil gets home. He’s got it uncovered and he knows Cecil won’t be happy about that, but he’s staring blankly into it like the longer he looks, the more likely the reflection is to change.
“Carlos?”
He doesn’t reply - can’t reply, maybe. He’s not sure. All he knows is that his mouth won’t move like he tells it to, and he still has the mirror uncovered, and God.
“Carlos, where are you?”
Carlos blinks. He wonders if this is a dream. Whether he’s dreaming, and he’ll wake up and everything will be fine, he can curl up into Cecil’s side and life will go on.
“Carlos, are you in here? Are you okay?”
He tries to say, “I’m fine,” but it comes out sounding like his mouth is too full of teeth (because it is), and he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“You don’t sound okay,” Cecil says. “Can I come in?”
“I uncovered the mirror,” Carlos says, like that’ll deter him.
“I’m getting worried,” Cecil says, exactly like Carlos expected.
Carlos tries to swallow around all those extra goddamn teeth. “Just… don’t be afraid when you see me, okay?”
“Why would I ever be afraid of you?” Cecil asks.
Carlos opens the bathroom door. He squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that he can’t see Cecil’s reaction.
“Oh. Carlos…”
“It’s horrific, I know,” Carlos says, before Cecil can remark on it. “Sorry. I don’t know how it happened.”
“You’re beautiful,” Cecil says, all quiet and breathy. Carlos risks opening his eyes. Cecil looks like he’s torn between bursting into tears or jumping him. “Wow. I thought mine was good, but yours… Wow.”
Carlos all of a sudden feels like the world has been placed upon a roller coaster and is travelling at several hundred miles an hour. “What are you talking about? It’s hideous.”
Cecil also looks like he’s been placed on a roller coaster. “Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous.”
“No, I mean, I look like a monster. Like a cheap Halloween costume.”
Cecil pauses to take a breath in. Then he frowns. Carlos frowns back. “You mean you don’t know what happened? You really don’t know?”
“I really don’t know,” Carlos agrees. “And I’m kind of afraid.”
“You mean you don’t have transformations on the outside?” Cecil says. He sounds nothing short of absolutely heartbroken. Now, Carlos has dealt with a lot during his time in Night Vale. He was not at all prepared to deal with something like this.
“We don’t have transformations like this, that’s for sure.”
“How sad,” Cecil says. He sounds truly genuine.
Carlos grimaces. One of his new teeth prick his gums. “What does it mean?”
Cecil makes a considering sort of noise. “Well, I suppose the easiest way to explain it is that it’s somewhat like puberty.”
“I cannot be going through puberty again. I’m a grown man.”
“I said it’s like puberty,” Cecil corrects. “It’s like an initiation ritual, for Night Vale. Once you’ve had your transformation, you are officially a citizen. Whether you were born here, or not, once Night Vale has accepted you, you belong here. Officially.”
“So it’s some kind of citizenship test?”
“If you like.”
Carlos laughs, because he’s not sure what else to do. “Most other countries have to pass a quiz. Night Vale transforms you into a kind of beast?”
“Don’t say that! Cecil insists. “You truly are… incredible.” Cecil spins him around to look in the mirror again, resting his chin on Carlos’s shoulder. “Look at yourself. Really look.”
Carlos does, again. The way he’s been studying his reflection for the past hour since it changed. He draws his eyes over his hair, now a long, rich, length of brown, threading silver through the roots (as opposed to the easily maintained trim he had kept it in before), and over his teeth, which have sharpened and lengthened to what could only be deemed as fangs. His eyes, which are now glowing just enough to be noticeable, glowing green and gold in equal measure. His skin, which is now flush with an otherworldly sort of blush, just like the one that graces Cecil’s cheeks too.
“See?” Cecil whispers. His words brush pleasantly over Carlos’s ear. “You’re absolutely divine.”
He supposes Cecil is right. He supposes it’s kind of beautiful - in that weird, sort of abstract way, in the way that aliens might also be beautiful too. He supposes.
“Oh, we just have to celebrate,” Cecil announces. “I can’t believe Night Vale officially invited you in! This is so exciting.”
“We don’t have to celebrate-”
“We do! Nothing special, but this is such an important occasion, oh, Carlos, we can’t miss it.”
Carlos has never had any hope at refusing Cecil. He watches his reflection sigh, watches it’s hair settle around it’s shoulders. “Nothing big.”
“We’ll go out,” Cecil decides. He pulls Carlos back around to face him, and kisses him so forcefully it knocks all of the breath out of Carlos. “We’ll get pizza, and take a walk around the park. Oh, I can’t wait to see you.”
“You’re looking at me right now.”
Cecil laughs in that quiet, affectionate way he does when Carlos doesn’t quite catch on to what he’s saying. He pushes their forehead together, so Cecil’s nose squishes against Carlos’s. It’s almost uncomfortable. “I mean, I can’t wait to see you out in the open sky.”
“Oh,” Carlos says, for lack of anything else to say. Then, “will this change when I go outside, then?”
“I don’t know,” Cecil says. “It’s different for everyone. Some people are affected by weather, or time, or temperature.”
“Will I ever change back?” he asks.
Cecil’s face goes remarkably soft, like something has melted in his muscles. “Maybe. I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t.”
Carlos bites his lip. Then he nods. “Okay. That’s okay.”
Somehow, it is.
⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛
Carlos isn’t sure what to expect when he first steps out under the beginnings of the sunset. He’s not even sure if he expects anything - Cecil certainly does, since he can’t seem to stay still for longer than five minutes without running his hands over Carlos’s new hair, or his shoulders, like he can’t quite believe that Carlos is standing in front of him.
What he never, ever would have expected (had he expected anything in the first place), is that the sun reveals twisting lines curling across, presumably, his whole body. They turn coppery gold in the dusk, and Cecil watches them, looking just about like he’s about to start crying.
Carlos can’t find anything to say.
“Wow,” Cecil says. “Are they everywhere?”
“I’m not taking my clothes off in the middle of the street.”
That makes a lavender sort of flush rise up on Cecil’s cheeks. “Of course not,” he says, with the kind of grin that contradicts his entire statement. “I was merely curious. You really are beautiful.”
“So you keep saying,” Carlos says. The patterns are kind of mesmerising, swirling together and lit up in that molten gold colour. He traces a finger along one of them, finding the skin feels slightly raised, like old scars.
“I can hardly believe you’re real,” Cecil tells him, earnest at his core. His hand joins Carlos’s on his arm, drawing across the lines reverently. His breath tickles Carlos’s ear, just one more beautifully perfect reminder that they’re alive.
“I know how you feel,” Carlos whispers, mostly because the words feel too volatile to speak at full volume. Because he’s not sure what he’s saying, because everything he says to Cecil has so much meaning embedded in it and he wants to make sure that Cecil hears what he doesn’t say as well.
Cecil always has. His fingers shake on his arm, but then they’re holding hands, and if he focuses, Carlos can feel Cecil’s pulse thrumming through his skin. It's vaguely comforting, in the way that the constant reminder that Cecil is there and with him is comforting. In that the mere knowledge of their existence is comforting.
“We ought to go,” Cecil says, like he can hardly bear to move even an inch if Carlos won’t move with him.
Big Rico’s isn’t particularly far from the house - at least, it’s not far in the physical sense. That said, it still takes them a lot longer than it usually would to arrive there, given that Cecil is intent on stopping every three feet to re-examine Carlos’s hair, or the patterns on his arms, or his eyes, or kiss him rather passionately for a public road. It’s all ridiculously romantic.
When they finally arrive, and have been seated, and ordered drinks, and perused the menu for long enough, Rico himself stands beside the table.
“Evening, Cecil. Carlos,” he says. They both look up, Carlos a great deal more confused than Cecil is. He’s only seen Rico outside of the kitchen twice, after all. “I just wanted to say congratulations. Not every day that an outsider gets the transformation!”
Carlos doesn’t have quite the right words, so Cecil answers on his behalf. “Oh, thank you, Rico. We were just as surprised!”
Rico makes a noise that could almost be a laugh. “I’m sure you were. Well, don’t let me hold you up. You’ll get your meal at two percent off today, as a transformation gift.”
“Oh, we couldn’t accept that-!” Cecil starts to protest. He’s promptly silenced by a decisive type of look from Rico. Apparently satisfied, Rico returns to where Carlos assumes the kitchen is.
“Two percent off?” Carlos asks, almost incredulously.
“It’s incredibly generous of him,” Cecil sounds like he’s agreeing.
“He didn’t even take our orders.”
“Of course he didn’t, Rico has a very special transformation recipe,” Cecil says, “at least, he did. He used to. Goodness, I haven’t seen a transformation special in a while. I wonder if the etiquette has changed.”
“I'd have thought people would transform-” and it’s distinctly odd using that term like it belongs in his mouth, “-more often, in a big town,” Carlos says.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Cecil replies. “Although a lot of citizens are born here, and as such experience their transformation as a child. We don’t get outsiders here often at all, either, so it’s quite rare.”
“So I’m the first transformation you’ve seen in a while?” Carlos asks. “What about Janice? Or some of the Scouts?”
Cecil nods. “You’re the first one. And Janice’s transformation occurred when she was three. It was wonderful, I was there when it happened!”
His excitement is infectious, and adorable. “Cool,” Carlos says. He sips his drink. “What was your transformation like?”
Cecil pauses. Carlos can almost hear all of the gears turning in his brain. “I had mine later than usual. I was sixteen. I went to sleep and woke up the next morning with purple tattoos everywhere, a third eye, and my hair had gone completely white!”
“It’s not white now, though,” Carlos says. Cecil’s hair is more of a platinum blond. Carlos thinks it’s wonderful.
“No,” Cecil says. “The effects of the transformation toned down slightly over the years. The third eye and the tattoos didn't change much, but I’m glad the hair did. I don’t think I’d suit white hair nowadays.”
Carlos can’t quite help himself asking: “Do you have any photos?”
Cecil grins at him. “I’m afraid no one possessed a camera at the time. I’m sure I have a portrait around somewhere, though…”
“A portrait? Like, a painting?”
Cecil nods. “Of course.”
“You didn’t have a camera but you did have portraiture?” Carlos asks. It’s just enough outside of the realm of possibility.
Cecil nods again, like there’s nothing particularly odd about it at all. Carlos files it away inside his mental ‘Cecil’ folder, wondering if he should follow up on it later.
Rico returns, holding two bowls of tomato paste and a plate of gluten free flatbread triangles. He sets them down, with a smile at Cecil and an even bigger one at Carlos. “Feel free to summon me if you need anything else,” he says, and Carlos isn’t sure whether he should take it at face value or not.
“I’ve never seen this before,” Cecil says. He sounds delighted. “This day just keeps getting more and more exciting.”
Carlos picks up one of the flatbread triangles. It just looks like a pizza base, cooked without any toppings at all. He turns out over in his fingers, sort of hoping that it’ll reveal a sauce and cheese in front of his eyes. It simply remains plain and bare, unfortunately.
Cecil picks one up too. He, however, seems to instinctively know what to do with it, and dips it into one of the bowls of tomato. Carlos watches him intently, trying to decide if it’s all a big joke or if that’s actually what he’s supposed to do.
Cecil swallows. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Carlos decides it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done in Night Vale. He dips his triangle in the bowl. It’s like eating chips, but with slightly chewy bread, instead of crispy potato. It’s not totally awful.
“This is… interesting,” he says. It wouldn’t be the worst kind of pizza he’s ever eaten (anchovy, ham, and pineapple holds the top title; on behalf of Dave), but it’s not quite the best.
“I think it’s great,” Cecil says. He’s already onto his third triangle. “Rico’s really outdone himself. We’ll have to tip really well.”
“Sure,” Carlos says. He starts another triangle too. The coppery veins on his arms seem to mostly disappear under the restaurant’s low-level light. Maybe it’s a sunlight thing, or an indoors thing, or a spur-of-the-moment thing. Now that he’s not so completely stressed out about his entire appearance just changing, it’s actually pretty cool, Carlos thinks.
A young-ish looking boy approaches them. He’s wearing a Girl Scouts uniform, and seems to be rather incredibly starstruck. Usually, when people approach them looking starstruck, it’s for Cecil, so Carlos sits back and tries as hard as he possibly can to relax.
“Um… excuse me?”
Cecil smiles at him. “Can we help you?”
The boy twists his fingers together. Carlos notices that one of them isn’t a finger at all, but actually, a tentacle, complete with suckers and everything. “You’re Cecil Palmer, from the radio, aren’t you?”
“I sure am,” Cecil says. Carlos watches, adamantly ignoring the butterflies that threaten to sprout in his stomach.
“And that’s your boyfriend,” the boy continues.
“He sure is,” Cecil says.
“It’s his transformation,” the boy says. “Isn’t it?”
Cecil nods. “It is.”
“Congratulations,” the boy says finally, directing it to Carlos this time. “My mom wanted to say it, but she was too shy.” He points out a nervous looking woman on the other side of the restaurant, peering at them. She has a whole hand of tentacles. Carlos is scientifically curious about who on earth the boy’s father is.
“Thank you,” he remembers to say. “Um. Tell your mom thank you too.”
The boy nods quickly, looking somewhat like a bobble head doll, before running back towards his mom. Carlos picks up another pizza triangle, for something to do with his hands.
“How sweet of them,” Cecil remarks.
“I thought you said it wouldn’t be a big deal,” Carlos says.
“It won’t be!” Cecil tells him. “But, darling Carlos, you look different. Incredibly gorgeous. Someone is bound to notice. They mean well.”
“I know they mean well, it’s just… it’s weird,” he says. “I’m nothing special.”
“You are everything special,” Cecil insists. He even puts down the pizza triangle he’s in the middle of eating, to emphasise the point. “People can’t look away from you. You are magnetic, and wonderful, and I am so, so happy that you had your transformation.”
Carlos catches on. “Is this your way of showing me off?”
Cecil doesn’t reply. He does blush, though.
“You’re parading me around town,” Carlos says. “You’re showing me off.” It’s endearing, and quite sweet, actually. He thought he’d hate it, but it mostly just fills his stomach with those ridiculous wobbly bubbles.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it like that,” Cecil says.
“How would you say it?”
“I’m being generous,” Cecil says, sounding unsure. “I’m making sure to spread the absolute wonder that my boyfriend is. It’s my generosity.”
“I think it’s cute,” Carlos says.
Cecil flushes an even deeper sort of purple. “Well, in that case. Yes, it was entirely my intention to show you off. I wasn’t being generous at all. I can’t believe I get to stand here next to you.”
“How romantic,” Carlos says, only slightly teasing. “Now I’m just sad that I didn’t get to parade you around and show you off when you had your transformation.”
“You don’t need a transformation to show me off, dear Carlos,” Cecil informs him. It strikes a nerve in Carlos, sending electricity up his spine the instant Cecil says the words. All of a sudden, Carlos can’t wait to get home again.
⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛
He wakes up the next morning feeling incredibly satisfied, and well rested, and mostly just happy. Cecil is still asleep, sprawled out across the bed. Carlos just about resists the urge to kiss him awake, and instead heads to the bathroom, wondering what the transformation situation will look like today.
It’s not much different to yesterday. His hair, thankfully, has lost some of the length. Instead of hanging down to the small of his back, it hits his shoulders. The colour is the same, and Carlos decides he quite likes it. His eyes aren’t glowing anymore, but they have acquired several golden flecks in the iris. His teeth aren’t as sharp, either, but they’re still definitely pointed. He can work with that.
On the closer inspection, the coppery patterns do appear to cover his whole body. Outside of daylight - or sunlight, or whatever it is that activates them - they mostly look like extremely faded scars. Barely noticeable unless you know where to look. Carlos spends several minutes admiring them again, and sticking his arm out of the window just to see the golden colour bleed into them.
It’s where Cecil finds him, twenty minutes later, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, running his fingertips across them again. The window is still open, and the mirror still uncovered, but Cecil doesn’t even seem bothered.
“They do cover my whole body,” Carlos tells him. Cecil smiles like it’s the best news he’s heard all week.
“Your hair is shorter,” he says. “I wonder if the effects will diminish more.”
“...I kind of hope they don’t,” Carlos says. “I kind of like it like this.”
“Oh- do you?” Cecil gasps. “How brilliant. Oh, how wonderful. You are so beautiful.”
It makes Carlos laugh. It’s nice how he feels so much more a part of Cecil’s world now - like he truly does belong. He’s carved out his place in Cecil’s heart, and the town has carved out a place for them both.
That’s the best part of it. The certainty that this is where he’s supposed to be. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub with Cecil, or sticking his entire arm out of the bathroom window just to see it change colour; it’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
It’s a lovely feeling. Quite possibly the best.