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“Uuuuugh—”
The stars shine on the uncorrupted Pelican Town, immune to the great evil of light pollution.
“One foot after another, c’mon!”
The backpack straps dig into Ral’s sturdy shoulders. His chestnut mullet sticks to his neck with sweat. Perhaps he, once again, bit off more than he could chew. Perhaps. Suddenly, the Solarion Chronicles: The Game quick-start kit of some scenario cards, a baggy of dice, and his little custom notebook with spell pages, HP pages, and character lore pages that he keeps in a premium hard case (just in case) feels like it’s just adding unnecessary weight to his shoulders.
“Unnecessary! Perish the thought! What if… uhm… I meet some of the guys from the Adventurer’s Guild while we’re exploring at the same time! And they start playing out of nowhere because they’ve got a nice idea for a character and want to play and I’M the one who can’t?! I can’t have that!”
He drags his feet over the wooden bridge, and the loud sloshing of the river masks the quiet ripping sound that the first stitch makes as it snaps. He checks his watch.
“How in the world is it 2AM already?!”
Ral’s mighty feet, always ready to slay monsters or to anchor his body when he needs to swing his pickaxe at some very promising ore, now drag over the wooden planks. They don’t even make the nice pat pat sound that feet make on wood that he loves so much.
“This sucks.”
He’s keenly aware that the fatigue, and his backpack full of ores, will make it hard to reach home in time, before the weird overpowering exhaustion just knocks him out at 3AM. Which is weird, since he was used to pulling all-nighters in the city. But whatevs. He straightens his back, feeling all the ore, loot, gems, and his deck box juggling around and pinching his back. What a great feeling. He just needs to push through. After all, he’s a warrior!
“A warrior who slays monsters, yes! Skeletons! Those weird rocks that are actually crabs! The ugly flying faces!”
Ral takes one big step with each mental image, fueled by pride.
“And the ugly bugs!! And dust!! Yeah!! Somehow, I even kill dust!!! I can’t clean it for the life of me, but I can kill it, yeah!! And the jiggly slimes! The talking helmets! The mask—!”
With a loud rip, even the shoulder strap can’t take any more of Ral’s boasting. It gives out. Ores upon ores and gems upon gems all fall on the planks with a satisfying plit-plat-ding.
He lets himself enjoy the sound for a second, before kneeling down to scoop up all the precious loot. With a groan, he realizes that he won’t make it home in time. His shoulders, now having broken the tension, feel like jello. His energy levels crash. He looks up at the stars. The now broken-down sign of JojaMart caresses the night sky.
“Oh. The JojaMart. The empty, abandoned JojaMart. Perfect.”
Fueled by the most ingenious plan ever, he scoops up as many gems as he can, shoves them back into his useless backpack, and drags his insanely sore body through the small opening in the busted supermarket entrance. He yanks the panels to make them close behind him. Panting, he barely manages to crawl to the side to hide his backpack behind a few cardboard boxes.
“Yoba almighty, they’re still full of old unsold stuff.”
He slumps down on the broken tiles. “It’s been what, a few months? How is it that the tiles are already broken and the doors all broken down?” Not that it really matters. He stares at the nice backpack that he’ll have to leave here. For one full night, because now that he’s not on a miner’s high he can’t possibly bring it home without passing out. No one comes here, at least. It’s safe.
“Mh… it’s safe. Or it should be. Still, I shouldn’t risk it with the real important stuff.”
Ral fishes through his backpack. Pushes past a few diamonds and a prismatic gem. He clasps his hand around the metal Solarion box and pulls it out with a satisfied sigh. He leans back on the broken tiles, enjoying their clinking. A moment of rest before the last sprint home.
“What… what’re you even doing in here?” asks a tired, almost amused voice.
Ral swears he can feel his soul jump out of his body. He scoots back, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword for a millisecond, before he recognizes Shane's voice without the need to look at him. He puts both palms back on the ground and catches his breath.
“Why—Shane, why are you here?!” Ral feels his stomach drop as soon as he asks the question. Shane, alone in a dark abandoned spot, away from prying eyes—
“Stop. Stop thinking that. I can see the cogs turning.” Shane points to a couple of cans around him, making them clank. “Joja Cola. They had a shit ton of it in the back. I think it's so artificial that it'll never actually expire.”
“Oh. I’m a fucking ass.”
“I see. Ehm. Apologies.” Ral bows his head slightly, wishing he could disappear into the wall and die of shame.
“Yeah, yeah. Just don't do it again. I don't appreciate that look.” He sighs. “And you didn't answer my question.”
“Your… oh, yeah. I was in the mines and, heh, you know, you can't really see the sun in there—”
“Get to the point.” Shane grumbles, but there's the smallest hint of a smile on his face.
Ral, unfortunately, is incapable of getting to the point. “I overexerted myself. Slightly. Got out and it was already so late and to top it all off my backpack broke so now my shoulders lost their groove and I can't carry this back home because my whole body feels like gelatin.”
Shane leans back on the dusty metal shelf he’s propped up on. His eyes wander over Ral’s dirty outfit. “... So that's the sound I heard.”
“Yeah. Pretty, was it not?”
“Ugh… I guess. So why are you here?”
“Is it… not obvious? I'm hiding my backpack so I can go home without all the extra weight and get it back tomorrow.” Ral sits up on his tiptoes, looking at Shane.
“So, you're leaving?”
“I mean… that was the plan. I didn't think I'd find anyone here.”
“You're leaving your jewels here, with me.” Shane raises an eyebrow, as if Ral is supposed to spit on his face, call him a thief, and clutch his pearls.
“Heh, it's a lot of ore and junk. Just a few jewels. But, yeah. I'd leave them here with you. I can leave my sword as well. Do you think you could fend off all the intruders who dare breach my treasure?”
That actually gets a chuckle out of Shane. Ral’s stomach starts leaping with joy, and another secret feeling that is veery close to the biggest crush he’s ever had.
“I won't be doing any of that.”
“Heh, that's fine.” Ral fishes his hand back into the backpack and takes out the prismatic shard. He wobbles closer to Shane and holds out his palm. “Here. For the intrusion. I can tell this is supposed to be a nice quiet escape for you. So, sorry for barging in. And also payment for all the bad guys you'll fend off.”
Shane looks at the prismatic shard. His face lifts for just a moment, before he puts his guard up once more. “What, you're paying me off so I don't steal from you?”
“Nah. As I said, it’s mostly copper ore. I need a lot of it for building kegs because I reeeally want to start brewing my coffee extra fresh. The gems were a nice bonus, but I've got no use for them now. Feel free to ‘steal’ what you want. Well, not the ore, please. I don't wanna go back for a whole day. Or worse, pay Clint. The rest is fine.”
“So your backpack’s all useless.” How Shane manages to hold his neutral, half-annoyed face is beyond Ral.
“Also not the tools. I literally don't know how to buy new ones.”
“Got it. Not the tools, but—”
“Oh, actually, you can get the little cupcake I've got in there. Makes a nice addition to your late night excursion, I think. Although it might be crushed now. I always forget where I put it and end up piling ore on top of it.” Ral groans.
“I don't want a crushed—”
“Whatever you want, is what I'm saying, is fine. I'll stop bothering your quiet night with my yapping.”
“You don't—”
“Sorry for offering you a crushed cupcake. I feel like that could be a capital offense or something in some cultures. Sorry.”
“Kid. Stay. You look like you're about to pass out at any moment.” Shane’s voice has the smallest tinge of authority in it. He wants Ral to listen, while Ral wants to listen to his own insecurities.
“Oh. But your quiet—”
“You can be quiet, can you not?”
“Yes. Yes, I—” Ral blushes. Oh, he feels the little veiled insult in his soul. But Shane asked him to stay, after all. He presses his lips together to stop the irresistible urge to yap, which causes half a chuckle out of Shane.
“Here, here.” Shane motions for Ral to grab a Joja Cola. And who is he to refuse? Ral scoots just a bit closer, but not enough to intrude on Shane's personal space (which, he assumes, must be about a one meter radius around him). Ral eyes the can curiously, wondering just how long it's been sitting here.
“It's safe to drink.” Shane assures him casually, and he just as casually scooches over, revealing one Joja pillow out of a little set he's resting on.
“Yoba, that thing's ugly.”
“Huh, really? I kinda liked the blue.” Shane grumbles, and he looks at Ral. A look. A look like Why don't you come sit on this ugly pillow next to me, you charming young man that has sort of been dropping hints at me for a while now. And also has been giving me nice gifts like farm fresh hot peppers that I've been making spicy oil with to put on my yummy pizzas and I always think of you when I eat them. But he can't be sure. Still, the look is there. And it doesn't look like a glare. So Ral just goes for it. He moves closer, and as he looks at the pillow he thinks of rest and becomes aware of just how much his feet, legs, biceps, and shoulders ache. He moves the ugly Joja pillow on the ground and rests his head on it. Since looking up at Shane will not only spur unsavory thoughts, but also make him want to talk to him, he just closes his eyes. Out of sight, out of mind. He takes a few, deep breaths, letting his body rest on a bed of broken tiles.
“Why’re you holding that so tight?”
Ral opens his eyes straight away, almost startled by Shane's abrupt question. “Hm?” He looks down at the way he's gripping his Solarion box. “Oh, this?”
“Yeah. Obviously. You were going to leave a bag full of diamonds—”
“Mostly ore.”
“... and ore, but you were going to take that little box. What's in there?”
Ral almost passes out at the hint of curiosity in Shane's voice. Curiosity about him. He gets the overwhelming urge to tease him about it, but he's got a feeling it's not the best course of action if he wants this conversation to last.
“It's a little kit to play Solarion Chronicles. The tabletop role-playing game.”
“You… you were going to leave diamonds behind. But not… whatever that is.”
“It’s dice, some scenario cards to get the adventure started quickly, and a little notebook for my characters. My babies. And hey… heh, I’ve got some cool custom dice that are quite expensive. Like, maybe a very, very small rough diamond.”
“How in the world…?” Shane’s innocent question and bewildered expression makes Ral chuckle.
“I know. It's dumb. It's just dice. One set is enough. But then you can get artists to make custom ones and put little thingies in them and match the theme of your adventures… and yeah that's probably even dumber…”
“It is.”
“But then you get into the hobby and you get kinda dumb and you want the pretty and shimmery dice and a custom notebook perfect for your characters, and maybe you even commission Leah some artwork… or a fic about your characters from Elliott and… it adds up. They also make new starting scenario cards and collaborate with movies and franchises and you can get rare ones and—”
“You've got more than one of those?” Shane sighs, pointing at the box.
Ral can't help but laugh at that. He opens the box to show off the Journey of the Prairie King special edition scenario and spell cards. He even shows off a custom die with a hand painted miniature cowboy gun in it. “Yeah, oh yeah. I've got more supplies. This is just a basic starter kit.”
“That doesn't make any sense—”
“Shh, shh. I know.”
Shane lets out the cutest little chuckle.
“So they mean that much to you? More than diamonds?”
“Well. I named myself after one of the characters from the base scenarios. So… yeah.”
“You… named yourself? After a… Solarion story?”
Ral smiles, thinking back on the story. “Well, not after a story. After a character. I was really into the game, back when I realized I needed a new name. Ehm, I still am very into it, but back then I had this cool spot where I would go and play and hang out and chat, and I was into the big story that is behind every NPC. And this dude is like, a legend. He becomes obsessed with magic out of a rough childhood and an initial coincidence that puts him in the care of this wizard. Then he does magic to save worlds, kinda goes crazy for a bit but then he’s okay, and he becomes like an esteemed leader of his city and—”
“Heh, so he’s that cool, is he?” Shane’s teasing voice, especially while clearly smiling, makes Ral weak at the knees. Good thing he’s already lying down.
“I… yeah. He is. At the time, my local game store was a safe haven and a place of joy. People around me didn’t care, or rather, mind, that I was going by a different name and pronouns out of the blue. They wanted to know if I was going to do something useful for the party with my character or just get arrested as soon as we got into the city. They quickly switched from calling me a bitch to calling me a dickhead when I tried pickpocketing the final boss for the third time. Fun times.”
Ral smiles fondly as he remembers the few times he was happy and content in the city. “And… as for why I picked Ral specifically. I… he’s always doing something. With all he has. Sure, he’s a bit selfish at times in the story, but then he gets stuff done when it needs to be done. He slays monsters and does magic and I also like that, it really feels like I’m living up to my name here in Pelican Town. And I love it. I love putting my soul into the commissions I take up from the Adventurer’s Guild, not having a desk job suck my soul out of me. And discovering everything around this small town. It feels like magic is all around me. Kinda like Ral, when he—”
That’s when he feels them. Shane’s hands. On Ral’s shoulders. Massaging. That shuts him up real good, real quick. He opens his mouth in awe, as he feels the massage through his whole body, relaxing every single one of his muscles. His shoulders hurt in the best possible way.
“Don’t you dare get the wrong idea. It’s just a massage I picked up for gridball. Your shoulders were so tense it was hurting me as well,” Shane lies. Even Ral can tell.
“I know, heh. Backpack’s fault.” Ral whispers into the cold, abandoned JojaMart that now feels like the most precious place in the world. Shane’s focused little expression is so cute Ral thinks he might just die on the spot. And yet, he closes his eyes and lets the tension of slaying monsters and mining ore wash away. Shane’s hands work their magic, his fingers lingering a bit longer, a bit more gentle than a simple gridball massage. And as the light of the moon shines on his feet through the crack in the door, Ral falls into a blissful sleep without even realizing (for he would have surely chosen to stay awake and soak in every single second, if given the choice).
Ral wakes up the following morning, alone in the empty JojaMart. Next to him, rests a small basket of fresh chicken eggs.