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How did you meet him, anyway?
You have your own story, but when it comes to him, it starts when you were visiting the dream bubbles. There were nearly infinite alternate realities, and even more nearly infinite dead, and all of them came to rest in the dream bubbles. He says, if you ask, that the chances of one of your many alternate iterations meeting one of his many alternate iterations in the dream bubbles had to have happened eventually, because when it comes to working with infinite numbers, anything that can happen, will. Not that he’s got any problem with it, he just doesn’t believe in luck much.
You met him in someone else’s memory, in a bar where aliens and monsters alike came to mingle and forget. He was sipping slowly on a glass of juice, barely drinking it at all, mostly staring off into the distance at the wall, lost in thought. Somehow, through your own means, you knew him. Most of his story, already in your mind so easily recalled. So you went to talk to him.
“Hey.” You said.
He broke his gazing at the wall to see you. “Hey.”
“Know anyone here?”
“Some.” He looked down at the counter and adjusted his seat on the stool. “Can’t really throw a stone here without hitting somebody you knew at some point. It’s rare they share the same memories as you, though.”
“Do you know me?” You asked, hopefully.
“Never seen you. Have we talked?”
You looked at the menu to cover your disappointment. “No,” you say, “but I’ve heard of you.”
“Really?” He arched one eyebrow. “Didn’t know I was significant enough to be talked about.”
“You’re a lot more significant than you think.”
“Oh, no, I’m fully aware that I’m significant enough for folks to go into shock upon seeing me. I'm like a goddamn celebrity, but worse. People either drop to their knees or have a heart attack whenever I round a corner, so many plebeians are bowing everywhere I go that I can’t move two steps without tripping over some poor kids skyward ass.”
You smile.
“But yea, uh, what have you heard.” He asks, taking a somewhat nervous sip of juice.
“You sacrificed playing the main Dave in order to save your session from complete failure, without you there wouldn’t have been a beta session, nor an alpha session, or any session at all ever, since your session was responsible for creating the green sun and therefore every session to ever exist.” You receive the drink you ordered and suavely take a sip.
“Well shit, when you put it like that.” He fidgets, resettling his wings, like he’s unsure what to do with himself. “Where did you hear this?”
“There’s a book floating in paradox space that details almost everything about your whole adventure.”
“Of course there is.” He sighs, and leans heavily on the marble counter. “So, who are you?”
At the prompting of this question, you fold and tell him all about yourself, talking with him until the bar has closed, until after everyone has left, even after they kick you out. You keep talking with him as you stroll down a path in the forest, which morphs into a desert, which morphs into a city. It begins to rain, so you hide with him under the cover of an awning in front of a shop.
“Weird,” He says, watching rain fall from the sky between the towers. “It never rained much in Texas.”
“Is this your home city?” You ask, holding your hand out to feel the rain on your palm.
“Yeah, I used to walk this street to get groceries.” He looks down from the sky to the road and puts his hands in his pockets. “Not like there was a lot of groceries to get.”
Being aware enough of his rough childhood, you switch topics before things get heavy. “Do you have a place to stay now?”
“Not really,” He looks at you with puzzlement. “Don’t think anybody here does. This place is kinda always changing, you know. Folks just wander around n shit.”
“I’ve got a place, it’s very nice. You could stay with me and rest a bit.”
“Oh, I know where this is going.” He steps back from you and smiles, getting a good look at you. “I know I’m a snacc, you can’t fool me. I was in a dating sim —Did you know I was in a dating sim once? Bitches were tripping over each other left and right to get a taste, but most of them realized too late that I was kinda a huge asshole, so. Anyway,” he shook himself and tried to get back on track, “if you wanna smash, you can just ask. We don’t have to dance around the subject like a couple in one of those shitty Hallmark movies that moms seem to love so much.”
“I appreciate it, and the straightforwardness does seem to make things feel more genuine, but at the same time,” you step out into the rain and start walking backwards down the street so you can keep talking to him, “sometimes it’s fun to play the game and dance around it, building up a relationship before you get down to the sex part.”
“I guess.” He follows you. “So are you actually interested? I was being a bit facetious, there.”
“I also think you’re trying to skip letting me get to really know you because you’re worried I’ll see something everyone else seems to see right before leaving you.” You say, giving him one more smile over your shoulder before you turn to walk forward.
“God, you sound like Rose.” He shuffles a bit to catch up with you and walk beside you. “How do you know I’m interested in you? Maybe I’d like to just be friends or acquaintances or something.”
“I don’t,” you admit. “But I’ll go ahead and let you know that I am, in fact, interested in you.”
He’s quiet for a bit, looking at the rain soaked pavement slowly merging into literal blue grass as you walk. Then, he finally asks you, with genuine confusion and bewilderment, “Why?”
You have your reasons, dear. Everyone has their comfort character, and everyone has their own reasons for being particularly loving of them. And we’ve talked about this, haven’t we? Regardless, you tell him why, and he listens carefully. The rain is left behind you as you walk into a vast grassy plain, rolling with hills and stone formations. He keeps his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground as he listens, and then, as you stop and sit on a rock, he sits next to you.
“Uh, hey,” He says, when you’ve finished, “it’s kinda funny actually, how it’s both comforting to know I’m not alone in feeling this particular flavor of shitty, and also sad to know someone else has to deal with this shit too.”
“Yea,” you smile somewhat sadly, “I know what you mean.”
“So…” He scoots towards you a bit and swallows, leg bouncing. He won’t look at you.
“So…?” You scoot towards him a bit too, watching his face.
He looks at you finally, but with that very specific look in his eyes that guys seem to don whenever they’re about to kiss you for the first time. It’s a mix of nervous, intentful, asking, implying. It never fails to put a strange sensation in your stomach. You kiss him lightly, just seeing if it’ll be nice, answering him gently. And it is nice, of course it is. Breaking away, you look over his face to see his reaction.
“You know, I don’t know what it is,” He starts, catching himself, “and it’s so weird, but I kinda trust you.”
You smile. “Hey, you too. How long have we been talking for?”
“Like, five hours.”
“Oh wow.” You hadn’t realized it had been that long.
“I know, time flies.” He makes the most stupid fucking grin and spreads his wings for emphasis. You’d hit him if you weren’t stifling a laugh.