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It was faint, buried beneath the oversteeped grape, but it was there. He took a second sip, sifting through memories older than the world around him, trying to connect that taste to something. Potions had gone out of fashion centuries ago. But that must be what this was. He took a third sip. Sour, fermented, and the boba swirling in the bottom of the plastic cup looked like they were watching him. Was that one red?
Somehow, this random guy who looked too much like Ren, who shared his name, who worked at Red Winter Café, but he couldn’t be Ren... Somehow this guy knew how to brew potions. And he’d given Martyn a dose of Weakness. Frowning now, Martyn set the cup down.
Ren was so terrified that he’d stopped even pretending to clean the counter. His heart had started hammering in his chest when ‘Martyn’ began inspecting his drink, and now he’d set it down entirely. It was fine. This was fine. Humans didn’t remember potions. He just thought it was too strong. That was all. Maybe he should offer him a muffin to make him thirsty. He could heat it up and pretend it was fresh out of the oven. There were no other customers, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Yes, this was an excellent plan. As long as ‘Martyn’ didn’t decide to get up and leave while he was preparing the muffin.
The electronic locks were hooked up to a switch in the back. He could lock the door first. He had to lock the door first. If this Martyn slipped through his fingers... It would take him years to recover. He ducked into the back room and bumped into the table in his haste, knocking an empty tray to the floor. He winced at the noise, but he did manage to hit the switch, and every exterior door locked simultaneously.
“You alright in there?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m... we’re all good.” The concern in the doppelganger’s voice. Ren wouldn’t have to pretend very hard at all. He needed to get him that muffin. He couldn’t wait to get home.
Beyond the fact that this fake Ren had brewed a potion in this day and age was the fact that, near as Martyn could figure, it was a potion of Weakness! It wasn’t Poison, or Instant Harming. This guy didn’t want him dead. The video kept playing on his phone; he’d even put his headphones back in, but he wasn’t watching it anymore. Almost absentmindedly, he reached for his drink. Why would fake Ren give him a potion of Weakness? What did he want?
A muffled crash came from the kitchen, and he almost stood up. This wasn’t his Ren. Why did his thoughts run to the bomb outside of Dogwarts? This wasn’t his Ren. But he could still be considerate. “You alright in there?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m... we’re all good.”
“Good.” Martyn muttered, quiet enough that this Ren couldn’t hear. There was no reason to get all protective of this man he’d just met. No matter how much he reminded him of what he’d lost.
But there were an awful lot of coincidences... And it was only a potion of Weakness. Worst-case scenario: this guy killed Martyn in his sleep, and he’d finally stop living without Ren. Martyn was pretty sure that without the potion, he could take this guy in PvP. So all he had to do was trust that ‘Ren’ wanted him alive. And it would be nice to talk to someone else who knew about potions at the very least. Play along. Drink the potion. Yeah, alright.
Heating up the muffin took enough time that Ren’s heart rate returned to normal. He hadn’t heard ‘Martyn’ try to leave yet, so that was good. He took his time plating it too. A glass dessert plate and a little paper doily. It could look like flirting. ‘Martyn’ had called him cute after all.
Then he came back to the counter and looked across the room. The muffin hadn’t been necessary after all. The plastic cup stood empty, and ‘Martyn’ could barely keep his eyes open. Ren set the muffin on the counter and allowed himself a moment to gaze at his prize. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable. The real Martyn would never let himself be taken advantage of like this. But the real Martyn was dead. This was Ren’s Martyn now.
He went and gathered him into his arms, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead. That would come later. “You look so much like him. You look just like my Hand.”