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It was a pretty normal day for Cellbit and Roier. They were feeling peckish, so they went to the local bar that night for a bite. It was easier to manage not killing anyone or getting themselves in trouble, that way, when their victims were too drunk to tell up from down. Plus, they got some of the poor humans’ alcohol from their blood; Roier loved being able to tease Cellbit about living up to his Drunk Of the Year award.
Anyway- that night, they’d taken out back two drunk best friends to snack on, and found the train tickets in their pockets for that exciting vacation they’d blabbered on about earlier.
“Quesadilla Island? Have you ever even heard of it?” Roier asked as he held the tickets up to the porchlight.
“No, but the way they were talking, it’s a secret paradise,” Cellbit muttered, more to himself than to his partner, as he went about cleaning and covering up the bites on the humans’ arms. The less vampire bites witnessed, the less likely they would be caught and run out of town. “Frankly, it sounded too good to be true.”
“Eh, maybe,” Roier conceded, but he still pocketed the tickets. “I bet they try to bleed you dry out of money.”
“That, and the palm trees are made out of cardboard.” Cellbit snorted. He stood up and dusted himself off. “What’re the dates on it?”
“It’s only for one way, and it’s next week.”
Cellbit squinted at him. “One-way? For a vacation?”
“Hey, hey, look at it this way!” Roier grinned at him, squeezing his shoulder as they slipped out of the alley. “If we go and it’s actually paradise, then we can just enjoy it! If it’s terrible, then you’ll finally have a reason to revive that old conspiracy blog!”
Cellbit guffawed, slapping Roier’s arm away. “Shut up! No one was reading that thing even in 2005!”
“If Uggs can come back, so can your blog that loaded at 3 pixels a minute, mi amor,” he teased as he dug back up one of the tickets and handed it over to his husband.
Packing up for a vacation had a very familiar routine to it. Homebase was technically the house Roier’s abuelo gave him, but they were more often than not on the move. What was the point in living forever if you didn’t go see the world?
Cellbit hadn’t been so sure about that idea, at first. He thought he would be plenty content trapping himself in an abandoned mansion until his hunger drove him so mad that he became nothing but a beast. That sounded like a fantastic life, actually, once upon a time.
But it turns out, travel is worth it with the right company.
So, he happily went along with Roier’s whims, whether they were to visit the poles, or enjoy the nightlife in the big cities, or even go dance at his vampire friends’ yearly balls. Well, Roier would dance, and Cellbit would decidedly not dance and float around the refreshments the whole time instead, but still. They’d even gone to the tropics before, which was a nightmare for beings who burn in the sun, but they were still able to enjoy looking at the stars together on the sandy shores.
That was what he was looking forward to, on this trip- the night walks on the beach.
He didn’t miss the sunlight much anymore, not since the dark had provided him with so much more. Really, he owed everything to that fateful night he was turned.
He was grateful to be a vampire.
They made it onto the train with no issues. Seeing as they got on from Mexico, they weren’t surprised that all the travelers spoke Spanish. The weird part was that they didn’t all depart from the Americas, but Europe, too. How was that possible?
Well, Roier didn’t seem too concerned about it. He had a great time socializing with everyone (at least, those who'd kept their window curtains closed). He lied to Hell and back about where he was really from and how old he was, like usual, but he was also a master at joking his way out of anything, like usual. He dragged Cellbit into some of the shenanigans, but largely let him be in their compartment, studying the sparse promotional materials the Federation had provided to the passengers. How did a brochure with such cheerful colors look so ominous?
Cellbit and Roier hung back while everyone else burst out of the open train doors in the station, slathering on sunscreen where their hoodie and coat didn’t cover. Cellbit’s already embarrassed to dress like this on a tropical island, and only feels worse when he pulls out their primary color wheel umbrella to share. (“Cellbo’s got such bad genes, man!” Roier had been telling the other passengers earlier. “He’s so pale, he’ll burn if he even thinks about going outside on a nice day!”)
What happened next was absolutely baffling. They had to turn on the power to the island, which had clearly seen better days and was not hosting a proper resort. They watched people scramble to press the button to let down the literal language barrier. They saw on their newly-received communication devices that a woman named Jaiden died when the wall exploded, and then... she just reappeared? From somewhere??? And then, in the following chaos, a couple more people died and revived, too?!
Oh, also, they’re supposedly trapped here.
Cellbit really regretted stealing those tickets.
The pair wandered off a bit further into the fields to build their shelter than most of the others, seeing as all the bachelors seemed hesitant to bunk with a married couple glued at each other’s hip. Which, fair- but also, a little privacy was appreciated while they tried to figure out what to do.
“What’s gonna happen when we next need to feed?” Cellbit whispered, worrying at his lip as they walked. “Everyone will know everyone here.”
“I know,” Roier grumbled, gripping the umbrella handle tight. “If we’re really stuck here, it’d be better to just fess up, no? Lying will get us nowhere a week from now, and we’ll just look worse when the truth comes out.”
“But then they’ll try to- to control us,” Cellbit gritted out. “Or just try to kill us.” He already went through all this effort to control himself- it’s why they agreed to stop killing their food, so he would have to practice restraint and not get them chased by angry mobs every other day- but would humans ever respect his no-kill record? Of course not!
“Or they’ll be willing to listen and make some kind of plan so we can still feed under supervision, or something like that. I’d rather not,” Roier tacked on, crossing his arms with a pout, “but it beats being dead.”
Cellbit paused, then stopped Roier’s walking by bumping his shoulder with his. “Wait- what about the people dying then coming back to life? Do you think everyone’s like that, here?”
Roier slowly lit up with realization. “Actually, yeah, they might be!”
Cellbit matched with his own excited grin. “Which means they have less reason to care about us drinking from them, since it doesn’t matter if they die!” He then twisted his mouth. “We don’t know if there’s a limited amount of lives, though, so we shouldn’t bet on that too much.”
“Still, that’ll help a lot...”
Cellbit raised an eyebrow when Roier didn’t finish his thought, and followed his line of sight. There, in the distance stood... an abandoned, overgrown gas station. They shared a look, then trudged towards it. Roier ran his hand down Cellbit's back to set him at ease, but the clench of his jaw betrayed his own nerves at the eerie sight.
“What kind of horror movie did we just walk into?” Roier asked as he inspected the decayed gas pump. “What happened to the people before us?”
“Maybe they moved? Or managed to escape?” Cellbit replied, clearly skeptical of his own words. He scanned the gas company logos. Those were recent enough that it probably was only a few years since it was abandoned. Maybe time worked differently here, because they shouldn't be that overgrown, in that case. He paused and turned to Roier. “Hey, do you think that we would revive if we died here, too?”
“Uy, don't ask me something like that at a haunted gas station, man!” Roier laughed, slapping at Cellbit's arm.
Cellbit didn't get to reply. Just as he opened his mouth, he saw white fur in his periphery.
When he next blinked, he was standing outside on a white elevator block at noon. He didn't have his colorful umbrella on him anymore, nor did he feel sticky sunscreen on his skin, but he wasn't burning.
Desperately, he reached next to him for Roier's hand, and Roier was reaching for his too. He flinched back away, however, when his hand felt wrong . He looked over at Roier, who looked just the same as before, but was... warm?
“Cellbit,” Roier said as a gasp, before taking in a big gulp of air, like a drowning man. He tried to say something else, but his heavy breathing quickly turned into hyperventilating. He folded over, clinging to Cellbit's green coat for dear life, and Cellbit tried to hold him up, and pat his back, and whisper reassurances while keeping his own breath in control. If they both devolved into panic, it was only going to make things worse.
“I'm breathing,” Cellbit suddenly realized.
It was such a natural instinct, even after the hundred or so years since he was turned.
Roier, born a vampire centuries ago, never had it.
He didn't think he'd ever need to coach someone on what to do in this situation, but he'd do his best. He helped Roier sit on the grass and kneeled down next to him. In his best reassuring voice, he spoke into his husband's ear, “Roier, breathe in through your nose for 3 seconds, out from your mouth for 3 seconds. Follow me.”
He'd lived through years that felt shorter than this scare did, but Roier eventually was able to figure it out and breathe more normally, if still a little exaggerated. Cellbit knew he was probably fine when Roier started to employ every swear he knew after every inhale.
“When you stop thinking about it, it'll be automatic, I promise,” Cellbit informed him with a relieved laugh.
“What do you- what do you mean I'm gonna do this automatically?! Ew! ¡Guácala! This is awful!” Roier complained, gesturing at his chest. Cellbit should probably check that Roier knows those are called ‘lungs’. “Ugh, if this is the human experience, I want a refund! 0/5 stars!”
“It only gets worse from here,” he replied teasingly, but his smile fell away quickly. His eyes were drawn to Roier's hand. He held his palm between his own hands, and inspected it closely, ignoring his husband's complaints about it. It was so unexplainable, how it looked just the same as it always did, no matter what angle, except- no, the veins were all wrong, almost a bruised color. He pressed at his wrist, and felt a dreaded pulse. He really was pumping blood. And when Roier slipped back his hand with a shudder to try it himself, Cellbit pulled up his own wrist cuff to check his pulse, then pressed his fingers to his own neck, then checked every other point he could think of. They all said the same: he was pumping blood, too.
“Have you ever heard of something like this happening before, Roier?” Cellbit pleaded. “Has anyone undead ever become alive?”
“No, of course not!” he huffed, almost offended. “And I can already see why. This is such a joke of an existence. What next, I have to eat? I have to sleep? I have to poo? ” With sudden horror on his face, he grasped Cellbit’s shoulders and shook them desperately. “Am I gonna pee-pee my pants?! ”
“You might,” Cellbit answered in the most mournful tone he could muster, to watch Roier dramatically cry out in despair. To top it off, he added mock-seriously, “But if you do, I’ll pee-pee my pants, too.”
Roier let out a joking, but loud, swooning groan, holding his hand to his forehead. “You really do love me!” He shook out of it with a heavy inhale, rubbing at his chest. “Gah, I’m still consciously breathing, this sucks balls .”
“It’ll go away,” Cellbit said as he stood up, and helped Roier stand up, too. “I’m, uh, out of practice , but I’ll do my best to help you with all of this.” He wiped at his forehead. “I don’t even know where to start with figuring out what is wrong with us, though.”
“We could start with figuring out where we are,” Roier groaned, looking around them. And he had a point- there was no abandoned gas station in sight, only untouched nature. Besides the white elevator block, at least. It didn’t do anything when he pressed it, though. “Is our stuff still at the gas station?”
“I guess so. Let’s go back to the train station and try to retrace our steps,” Cellbit suggested. He pulled out the communicator out of his pocket- well, at least he wasn’t completely robbed blind?- to pull up the map. Strangely, most of it was still black- oh, did it only show the areas you’ve been in before?
Regardless, they were able to choose a path, and Roier was just barely starting to whine his face off about his legs being tired by the time they got there. (And Cellbit thought he was manhoso when he didn’t have bodily functions to complain about.) And yeah, there were their suitcases and backpacks, and even their umbrella, but the gas station was gone . All that remained was dirt, like a shadow of what once was there.
“Something tells me this wasn’t an accident,” Cellbit admitted quietly, faintly. It felt like his words didn’t just dissipate into the breeze- they were yanked out of his lungs with the breath he wasn’t supposed to have.
Here's the thing. Cellbit may have a distant memory of his life as a human, but he was built to be a vampire. When he turned, he felt like he finally fit into his skin. Nothing explained the way he behaved as a human, it was just... bad. Wrong. The way he felt the need to do what it took to survive at all times, when most people just worried about, what? Going to see the next movie? Taking their kids to the park? Buying Christmas presents? All of those vain, benign stresses were for everyone but him. He thrived on violence, on manipulation, on taking flesh.
The life and little joys he was able to share with Roier, were never going to be possible until the outside matched the inside.
Suddenly, they don’t match anymore.
He left Roier in charge of finding clean water (and actually drinking it, Roier, I don’t care if it tastes gross ) while he headed back to where some of the Spanish-speakers had been settling for help on finding food, umbrella in hand purely by habit. He did get a few weird looks, but they still were gracious enough to explain how to make a stove and cook the easiest foods. Until he and his husband were able to create a full garden, they’d explained, they were probably going to be surviving off of meat from wandering animals and whatever fruits and vegetables they could pick up in the surrounding area, like everyone else.
When he hesitantly tried to ask if any of them had experienced suddenly waking up somewhere new, Maximus assumed he meant sleepwalking and showed the appropriate level of concern. Spreen just laughed, assuming this was about the Drunk of the Year award Roier “boasted” about on the train. Cellbit took that as a no and walked off, feeling hot in the face. It took him a while to remember that that was what it felt like to blush.
He was on his way back, stomach grumbling, scanning the horizons for anything that looked edible and muttering schematics to himself, when he ran into... a familiar silhouette. A cloaked figure, almost like a mirage, with a face shrouded in darkness but for two misty white eyes, shining and burning into his soul.
He couldn't believe it. He stumbled in his shock, then regained his wits and rushed the rest of the way to the figure's side. “Bad?!”
For a moment, BadBoyHalo turned to him, and he felt the full force of his power- tall, intimidating, wispy and unknowable, solid and very real. Then Bad apparently recognized him, as the hostile aura disappeared and his eyes squinted into a smile. “Hey, Cellbit! It's been a while!”
Well, “a while” was an understatement. Cellbit hadn't seen him since he was a teenager- since before he was turned.
“Are you trapped here, too?” Cellbit asked, astounded.
“Yep!” he chirped. “I've made a lot of progress on my house, would you like to come see?”
Cellbit shook his head in disbelief. “That can't be right, you're- you're Bad! Can't you just leave the island?”
“Nope!” he chirped again. “It's been fun so far, though! Aren't the neighbors so nice?”
Cellbit found himself listening to a running commentary on the contents of Bad's backpack, including the backpack itself, as gifts between fellow victims and the beauty of community and all those nice things that explained nothing about how a demon-reaper-thing could just... be actually trapped on an island by a scam.
“I don't understand why you don't just... teleport away, or whatever you do,” he couldn't help but argue.
“What do you mean ‘teleport’? That's not a normal, human thing to do,” Bad answered with a nervous laugh. As Cellbit cradled his head between his hands exasperatedly, he added, “Just like anyone else, I need that train to come back. Some people have already started trying to follow the tracks, or take a boat to sail off the borders, but it's so far not working. There might be some kind of bubble around the place, so to speak. And things I'm usually able to do, I'm, uh, currently not able to do.”
Cellbit blinked up at him from between his fingers. “Wait, really?” In a startled motion, he slid his hands back to grip at his hair. “Are you in a human body?!”
“I'm in the same body I've always been in, thank you very much,” Bad huffed, crossing his arms. “It's just some of the other stuff I'm having trouble with.” He slowly tilted his head as he analyzed Cellbit up and down. “Hm... now that I think about it... Your skin looks fantastic for the, what, decade since we last saw each other?”
“Yeah, long story,” he replied dryly. “I look young for my age.”
“Oh, I forgot how sassy you can be!” Bad's eyes smiled tighter. “Especially when you're hungry! Are you hungry, Cellbit?”
Cellbit let out a long, deep sigh before finally admitting, “Yeah, I'm starving. I need something to hold me over until I can get real food.”
“Well, if you're that desperate, I don't mind,” Bad said, rolling up his sleeve and holding out his arm in offering. “As long as you don't make a habit of it, again, you know?”
Cellbit stared at the arm. Just the memory of biting into it was enough to make his mouth water. Bad's blood had tasted different from everyone else's, enough that the part of him recognizing the danger in demon-reaper-thing consumption by a human constantly fought with the addictive effects of it.
Though he was hungry, he couldn’t smell the blood the way he should, beckoning him to come closer. Still, it was very tempting. He reached out to Bad’s arm to hold it up to his mouth. He glanced back up, waiting for Bad to back out, but he didn’t, just watching Cellbit with a strange flicker of curiosity in his white eyes. So Cellbit bit in. The second blood hit his tongue, he recoiled. Before he knew it, he was spitting it out on the grass, shaking, nauseous.
What was that? That didn’t taste right at all! It was vile! Dread dropped down into Cellbit’s stomach, making him feel even more nauseous.
“Okay, drama queen,” Bad huffed as he tugged his sleeve down, “sorry I don't have salt and pepper on me for you!”
“No, that's- that's not the problem,” Cellbit said, voice wavering, wiping at his mouth. “Something's wrong with me.”
And it was worse than he'd thought. His head was spinning at the implications- he was a cannibal long before he turned into a vampire. Why didn't he crave flesh and blood like he always had? Especially Bad’s?
He'd- he'd thought this was still his body, but in the wrong form. All of a sudden, it felt like he was wearing someone else's skin.
Bad crossed his arms. “Yes, young man, you've lost your manners! I remember when you would say please and thank you!”
Cellbit grabbed at Bad's shoulders, trying his best to take deep breaths before he could further spiral. “Bad, please. ” His old friend blinked at that, but stayed silent, clearly listening. “Someone did something to me, like what- what they did so you can't use your normal abilities. But I don't know why.”
“Really?” Bad sounded- well, maybe more intrigued than genuinely concerned, but at least he was taking it seriously. “So is someone trying to make it so you can't leave, either?”
“I- I guess? But I don't know why I'd pose such a threat for a reaction so extreme. I didn't do anything!”
Was seeing that gas station such a big offense? Would that have happened to anyone who happened to see it? It couldn't have been because of his past, since they shouldn't even know about it. He took someone else's ticket!
“You are a good fighter, Cellbit, you're a dangerous guy. I wouldn't be surprised if that was enough of a threat. I think you're right on your theory, ‘cause I'm not the only one whose abilities got muffined.” Very conspicuously leaning in, he whispered, “You know Philza? He woke up this morning with his wings clipped!”
Cellbit winced at that. But, he realized, this actually gave him a lead to follow. “I'll- I'll go visit his house later today and ask how he's doing. That must hurt a lot.”
“Visit me when you get the chance, too! There's these really neat things called warpstones...”
Cellbit checked up on Roier, who had been chopping down trees by a beautiful little pond. Some of the logs were already arranged in the smallest possible shelter for two. He looked absolutely miserable, face splotchy and hair slicked down and dripping. He'd taken off his hoodie, revealing a T-shirt soaked through with sweat, clinging to his figure. Okay, actually... maybe he looked kinda hot like that, Cellbit admitted to himself as he walked over.
“Is this supposed to happen?” Roier whined, shaking his shirt to fan himself.
“Yes, it's called sweating, and it's supposed to cool you down.” Cellbit looked him up and down. “I think you should keep sweating, guapito.”
“Shut up, you perv,” Roier scolded, flipping him off, but the grin on his face said otherwise. “Please tell me you've found food.”
He updated his husband as he helped organize the lumber into chests and set up the warpstone Bad graciously supplied. He enjoyed the view as Roier got fed up and took his shirt off, too. He started to roast in the sun, himself, and grumbled as he peeled off his coat. Roier happily watched, and Cellbit flipped him off in return.
“So you wanna hunt down some food on our way to Philza’s house? Is that the plan?” Roier said as he desperately wiped at his forehead, and clambered to sit down on the grass. Apparently, the bandana really was just an aesthetic choice.
“Or you can stay here and keep working on the house. It’s okay if you don’t want to work on investigating.” He filled up a bottle of the filtered pond water and gave it a taste. He couldn’t stop the surprised noise he made at the sip. “Wait, this is great water! Why were you complaining about it?”
“Huh? Are there different levels of water or something?” the brunet scoffed, then scoffed harder when Cellbit nodded. “Water can be worse than that? Why would the thing that sustains life taste so bad?”
“Way worse,” he corrected after another sip, “and even the nastiest thing on Earth tastes sweet if you’re desperate enough.” He could attest to that.
“Ugh, you’re right.” At Cellbit’s curious look, Roier elaborated, “Remember how I told you about how I ran away when I was little?”
“Oh, yeah! You fed off of animals for a while.”
“I tried not to,” he admitted, curling up, a distant look in his eyes. “When I finally gave in, I’d sucked dry a stray dog.” He blinked back to the present, and his eyes flickered to the pond with distaste, then back to Cellbit. “I think it’d be good for us to meet the neighbors together, no?” He stood back up with an exaggerated groan, stretching up his arms. “And of course I wanna go investigating with my sexy detective husband!”
Cellbit fondly rolled his eyes. “Alright, together, then. Let me make a sword real fast, so I can catch a cow or something.” He paused before opening the chest, to toss a backpack to Roier. “And put a shirt on, already!”
“Ehhh, you don’t want anyone else getting a show?” Roier’s eyes twinkled as he obliged.
“No, you weirdo!”
Cellbit, even with one hand holding onto their umbrella, was able to slaughter a few chickens and sheep, and it felt strangely nostalgic. Roier seemed hesitant to kill any himself, probably because of the memories still fresh in his mind. He did, however, get to pick a few apples and a random pumpkin, and he proudly carried the pumpkin in his arms even as they crawled up the vines to the house on the wall.
“Hello? Philza?” Cellbit called out.
A bucket hat peeked out from behind the humble home’s door, then the rest of the man came into view with a welcoming smile. “Oh, hey, mate!” They weren’t sure what they were expecting, but it wasn’t a British man in a yukata.
With introductions made, and the couple offering to share their abundance, Phil led them to his grill and started cooking the pumpkin first (to Roier’s insistence).
“Alright, I can tell you’re dying to ask me something,” Phil said, amused. “If it’s about speaking Spanish, I don’t know a lick of it.”
“Not that,” Cellbit assured, “we just wanted to see how you were doing. Bad told me your wings are, uh...?” Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t see wings on Phil at all.
Phil huffed, smile draining away. “Of course Bad is gossiping already. Yeah, I went to bed last night, and then I woke up with my wings clipped.”
“How big are they?” Roier asked, confused by the same glaring issue as Cellbit.
“When I wasn’t using them, they were from the floor to about yea high,” Phil explained, measuring above his head. “Now, uh... I’ve been wrapping what’s left under my clothes to heal.” With a sigh, he turned around, and the couple boggled at the vague lumps across his back, tucked neatly beneath his yukata.
“That’s like- if someone cut your arms off!” Cellbit felt sick, then sick again at the hypocrisy. He did equally cruel things to many people when he was younger.
“Yep,” the blond replied shortly, pulling the pumpkin off the grill half-mindedly. “I’m not gonna lie, it hurts. A lot. But they’ll grow back eventually.” He gave them a poor excuse of a smile. “There’s nothing to do but wait, so don’t worry about me.”
“Hey, man, of course we’ll worry!” Roier protested. “We’re dealing with all this bull together!”
Phil stilled from putting chicken on the grill to squint at Roier. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Cellbit chewed on his lip. He used to have to mind his canines when he did that. “It’s just, uh, something happened to us, too.”
Phil looked between the two, alarmed. “Did you have wings, too?!”
“No, it’s more complicated than that...”
Roier rolled his eyes at Cellbit. “We got turned human,” he informed bitterly, and got slapped on the arm by his husband for it (neither of them noticing Phil’s numb “What?”). He quickly slapped back. “Hey! What’s the point of dancing around the subject, stupid?”
“We just met the guy, idiot!” Cellbit hissed, and they kept up the catfight while Phil hurriedly turned over the chicken off the grill before it burned.
“Hold on, hold on,” Phil shouted, finally getting them to stop, “so were you two immortals? Did you die and come back? That’s happening to everyone.”
“No, we haven’t died, and I really don’t want to test if we’ll revive, too,” Cellbit said with a shudder. “We just know. My best guess, honestly, is that our bodies were somehow replaced.”
“Really?” Roier asked, intrigued.
Cellbit, inexplicably, found himself blushing. “I mean, how else is it possible?”
Roier watched this change with fascination. “Why is your face turning red, man? Are you okay?”
Cellbit turned even redder, squeaking out, “Yes, I am! ” He looked over to the bewildered Phil next to them and desperately asked, “Do you remember anything at all while your wings were getting clipped?”
He shook his head as he replaced the cooked chicken with raw mutton on the grill. “Nothing, nada. Do you?”
“No. We weren’t even asleep, we just somehow got... taken somewhere, when we were just standing there, and don’t remember it.”
“Oh, that might be even worse than what happened to me!” Phil shuddered. “I mean, I’ve only met that white bear so far, so he’s the only one I know of who could’ve been responsible.”
Roier and Cellbit blinked and looked at each other. “White bear?”
“Huh? You haven’t seen him yet?” Phil flipped the mutton. It was getting harder for Cellbit to ignore the aromas of cooking food. It felt strange to like the smell. “At least, I thought it was a bear. Some people have been calling him a snowman, and I think I heard Bad say it looks like his dog?? ” He stopped to share a bewildered look with the others. “He was standing on two legs and talked with a robotic voice. He said he was part of the Federation’s Census Bureau and was asking everyone personal questions. Super creepy, dude.”
“Oh- maybe I did see him?” Cellbit paced, scrubbing through his memories. “I guess that’s who I should talk to, next?”
Phil turned to put a hand on his shoulder. “Nonono, you don't want to do that. The dude’s got a gun.”
Roier brightened up, grinning with delight. “The bear’s got a gun?! ”
Phil let out a single incredulous laugh. “Yes, it’s funny, but he’s not afraid to use it! That’s the problem!”
Cellbit wasn't laughing with them, still pulling at his hair as he kept pacing. “But what's the point of threatening to kill people with a gun if they'll apparently just come back to life? What's the point of any of this?”
“I don't know, mate. But if a nightmare fuel bear is disappearing people and body-snatching,” he said, gesturing at the two of them, “I am gonna stay off their radar as much as I can. This is what's happened in just a couple days when we didn't do anything; I can't imagine how much worse the Federation really is if you provoke them.”
“Good luck trying to convince him of leaving them alone,” Roier told him, nodding at Cellbit fondly. “He's too chismoso for his own good.”
Cellbit whapped Roier with the umbrella.
Phil grimaced as he pulled the last of the meat off the grill. “Don’t blame me when you get to the ‘find out’ phase,” he warned.
Roier made a silly face and made a muscle man pose. “Ohoho, they’re the ones that are gonna be finding out!”
Cellbit blatantly ignored his shenanigans, turning to Phil. “I know it's only been a bit, but do you know any of the, uh, neighbors yet? Do you think anyone would want to investigate the Federation?”
He crossed his arms, looking at the ceiling as he thought. “I know Bad, he'd probably go for it. And I know Foolish, who would want in on it because he loves chaos... Actually, maybe you should check if anything's happened to him. He's a shark-totem-god-thing.”
Cellbit's eyebrows raised. “A god?”
Roier's eyebrows scrunched. “A shark? ”
“I know!” Phil laughed. “Whatever's the craziest-looking build going on, you can probably find him there.”
Cellbit nodded, mostly to himself. “Okay, yeah, I'll try to find him soon. Thanks for talking to us, and for the food.”
“Thanks for sharing, mate!” Phil happily passed over their portion of the meal. “I'll admit, I'm glad you two aren't an insufferable couple. We need an example of a sane relationship for when people stop flirting badly and start actually pairing up.”
Roier scoffed. “But that doesn't mean we can't be insufferable! We've gotta try harder, Cellbo~” He swiftly wrapped himself around his husband and whispered something in his ear that made his entire head turn red like a tomato.
Phil promptly turned around and slapped his hands over his eyes, laughing as he shouted, “Nope! Out!”
“Sorry, Phil!” Cellbit's voice cracked even as Roier cackled.
“I'm not sorry, gatinho,” Roier corrected quietly, earning an elbow to the stomach. “Hey!”
Phil offered for them to eat dinner together, but Cellbit politely declined. He didn't know how Roier was going to react to eating any of these foods for the first time, and didn't think he'd appreciate an audience when he did. So, even though they were both starting to feel weak, they trekked on back to their makeshift home.
Neither of them were strangers to living in squalor. Still, something felt particularly sad about this little house with only a door and a table, and being too hungry and tired to do anything about it. It was different, before, when all they really needed to get by was blood and cover from the sun.
Roier heavily dropped his backpack down under the table, hunched over his stomach. “Do you... feel bad about eating animals?”
Cellbit dropped his own backpack and the umbrella and thought for a second, chewing at his lip, again distracted by how dull his teeth were. “Yes and no. A part of me is used to it, since I grew up looking at those animals as food. And it's just being in the natural food chain, being animals eating animals.”
“But you can't talk to them, man,” he blurted, hands fisting in the fabric of his hoodie. “And they're just, I don't know, stinky? Doesn't that feel gross? Or unfair?”
Cellbit unzipped his backpack and pulled out their cooked pumpkin. Clearly, it was better to try that first. “Some people would argue it's better to kill them because you can't talk to them. Others consider animals innocent and so killing them for food is cruel.” Tapping his fingers on the table, he thought for a second before adding, “I think I also prefer feeding from humans. But when I had to rely on animals, I had to remember that a lot of them would kill and eat me, too, if it came to it. You wouldn't blame them for wanting to survive, so you shouldn't feel bad about it, either.”
His husband didn't look completely set at ease, but the answer seemed to help. Cellbit offered his hand, and Roier let go of his hoodie to take it. It felt wrong, having a warm hand- feeling the warmth radiating from Roier's hand.
But it was still Roier's.
He squeezed his hand and shared the warmth with him. After a moment, he brushed his thumb over his knuckles. They stayed like that, breathing the same air and holding warm hands, until their stomachs grumbled simultaneously in protest.
Roier grumbled insults back at his stomach, followed by, “ ¡Cállate! ¡Ya voy a comer! ”
Cellbit sighed and let go of his hand. He carefully dug into the pumpkin with a knife, and found it was extremely soft. A perfect first food. He cut it up and served a few pieces into bowls with a spoon. They were still steaming a bit, so he demonstrated blowing on a spoonful until it no longer was. Roier followed along, hiding his nerves behind a joking smile. His facade cracked when he made a motion to put the spoon into his mouth but Cellbit stood still, staring at his little spoon.
“¿Qué te pasa? You look like we're about to eat rat poison,” Roier laughed nervously. “You've had this before, haven't you?”
“Yeah,” he replied numbly.
He was a poor excuse of a human, before. He thought he had come to terms with that, but now, looking at his husband, he wished he had been more normal. He wouldn't feel so insecure and scared of what was happening to him. Really, they were in the exact same position, when he should've been able to provide better guidance and reassurance.
But then, if he hadn't been such a natural at being undead... would they have even met?
There wasn't a point in what-ifs, he knew that. But the pulling and twisting in his stomach wouldn't go away.
He took a breath and clinked his little spoon against Roier's. “ Saúde ,” he toasted. Roier smiled at him and they took the plunge together.
Being a vampire was such an integral part of his identity. It was the first time a label fit.
Flesh tasted like survival, like life. He didn't remember a day in his life when normal food tasted like anything more than basic nutrients, not the way feeding off of humans felt like revival, like rejuvenation. When he turned, his taste buds hadn't changed. His everyday routine was barely tweaked.
He was a vampire because he wasn't ever really human.
So why did this pumpkin have flavor? Why was it pleasant? Why didn't it equate to mere mush?
They really did body-switch him, didn't they?
What else did he need to check, to be sure? Did he remember what his fingerprints looked like well enough? Were all of his scars still in the same places?
He tried to stop his shaking, to keep up a front for Roier. Crumbling into a self-existential crisis was the last thing his husband needed from him.
When he hesitantly swallowed and looked up, Roier was... doing about as well as he was. He was struggling to keep his smile up, humming out sounds of approval, but tears streaked down his face.
“Do you like it?” Cellbit quietly asked.
He replied with a startled laugh and stiff nod. “Y-yeah, it's really good! Muy rico! I've never had something so sweet before.” He placed his bowl and spoon down to desperately wipe at his face with his hands. “Why am I crying, man? I thought humans are supposed to cry when they're sad, or s-scared!”
“They usually do,” he replied, his voice tight, blinking back tears. He knew other people as sympathetic criers, but never was one himself, as far as he remembered. This cursed new body was acting wrong in yet another way.
“But I'm happy, estoy feliz, ‘cause the food is good. I shouldn't be crying!” He let out a sudden sob, then another, shaky smile slipping off entirely. “I shouldn't be- crying- I can't breathe-”
Cellbit's bowl clattered onto the table, and he lunged forward to embrace his husband and guide him to the floor, in the absence of any chairs. It was hard to do any more than that when he was collapsing, too. It made him feel like a little kid again, when he would quietly weep in caves at night, curled around his trusty knife until he fell asleep.
Roier would've died in that situation, a little voice in the back of his head said, as he curled around his husband like he was a trusty knife. He was crying his lungs out. Too loud.
“I'm so sick of this,” he whined into Cellbit's shoulder, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.
“I know,” Cellbit said back, voice thick and cracking. “Me too.”
“But then I ate the pumpkin,” he said, letting his tears soak Cellbit's shoulder, “and I felt grateful for a second, ‘cause it was really good.” He shakily drew in a breath, hiccuping. “But I don't wanna be grateful, ‘cause I'm gonna die.”
“I know.”
“You will, too.”
“Yeah.”
“I don't wanna die.” He shook his head against Cellbit's shoulder, voice muffled. “I don't want you to die.”
Cellbit squeezed him tighter, hiding his face in Roier’s hair. “I know.”
Their appetites had left them, but they somehow still ate enough to not go to sleep with empty stomachs. They curled up together on the floor, using their backpacks as pillows. They shared heat, when usually they shared dead cold. They listened to the mobs stumbling about outside. Or at least, Cellbit was. As far as he could tell, Roier had fallen asleep. He wondered what Roier’s first real dream would be like. He hoped it would be a good one.
All he remembered having were nightmares.
To be honest, he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping again.
He wasn’t built to be human.
Roier woke up cranky, even though Cellbit was the one without a wink of sleep. Neither of them were surprised.
At least he woke up with a returned appetite, and happily tried the apples he’d picked. No breakdown this time, Cellbit noted, and hoped that was the end of that for both of them. They didn’t have time for it.
And he didn’t want to see Roier cry again.
They worked on making their house actually livable throughout the morning. By lunchtime, they had a cottage instead of a shack, with a real bed and a garden plot. Now they had to consider space for edible plants, not just the pretty ones, but that was okay. They had the makings of a little home. Progress.
(He’d like to forget what happened when they suddenly realized they actually need to own a toilet now.)
With the feeling of accomplishment in their bones, Cellbit decided it was time for the next hurdle: actually eating meat. He served a small piece of yesterday’s mutton for each of them, on proper plates, and they sat on proper chairs. Roier looked sick, grimacing at his serving.
“It smells good, right?” Cellbit encouraged.
“Sure, but it looks awful,” he admitted, carefully poking at it with his fork. “You sure this used to be an animal? Where’d the blood go?”
“It’s still there.” Cellbit cut a sliver of his off to show the inside. “Blood looks different when you cook it.” Even he remembered that from his youth. It wasn’t a surprise, when he spent so much of it learning how to survive. “You know, I had eaten raw human a few times, but I cooked the meat when I had the chance. It’s just safer, that way. This looks pretty similar to cooked human.”
“So, I could just pretend this is human?” Roier still looked skeptical as he picked up his own knife. He made a gagging face as he experienced cutting a piece of meat off.
“You’re being so dramatic for the wrong thing,” Cellbit said, laughing.
“Shut up,” he said lamely. He picked up the piece with his fork. “This is totally a human that definitely deserved to die,” he declared at it, but still didn’t move any further.
Cellbit fondly rolled his eyes and stuck his own fork into Roier’s mouth. Roier made a noise of protest, but it meant nothing since his face also burst into a bright blush.
“You were being a baby,” Cellbit teased. “How is it?”
Roier grumpily chewed in silence. Eventually, he swallowed and shortly said, “I don’t like it.”
Cellbit hummed. “Alright then, more for me,” and reached for Roier’s plate.
Roier batted his hand away, shielding his food with his arms. “No!”
He grinned, victorious. “So you do like it?”
“No! Yes? Agh!” Roier leaned back, fully despairing. “It tasted good, but it also made my face feel like it’s on fire!”
Cellbit leaned onto his elbows on the table, trying to not laugh. “Roier, you were blushing because of me, not because of the food.”
“Huh?”
“Your face turned red.”
Roier looked absolutely mind blown. “You mean like what you’ve been doing randomly?”
“It’s not something I can control,” Cellbit argued, starting to blush just thinking about what happened before. But, he regained a sly smile and put a bit of mutton on his fork again, waving it around in front of Roier. “I can control yours, though.”
Like magic, Roier’s face reddened again. “Get that nasty fork away from me!”
Cellbit complied, his gaze lingering on his husband’s blush. He himself wasn’t supposed to be human, Cellbit thought, but maybe he liked how being human looked on Roier.
Roier huffed, crossing his arms, putting on his bratty voice. “What are you lookin’ at, huh?”
Carefully, Cellbit ghosted his finger over Roier's face, from one cheek to the other over his nose bridge. “All along here, your face is pink.” The blush deepened in response, and Cellbit couldn't keep the amusement off his face. “Your nose, especially. The top of your ears are a bit pink, too.”
Roier nearly went cross-eyed, trying to look at his own nose. “Do I look like an idiot?”
“You look like my idiot.”
Cellbit thought it was time to visit the neighbors again, and find this Foolish character.
They ended up not needing to ask for directions; it didn’t take long to spot the spiral skeleton stretching up to the sky at the cliff edge of the island.
“Hello?” Cellbit called up, tilting back his umbrella as he craned his neck to try to spot movement on the unfinished structure.
After a few seconds, they heard tools clattering, then a call back of, “Just a minute!” Someone clambered down the build’s skeleton, and their appearance only became more confusing as they came closer.
Huh. So that’s what a totem-shark-god-something looks like.
“Oh, I haven’t met you guys before!” he said as he jumped back to the ground. He eagerly shook hands with them. “Name’s Foolish! What can I do for ya?”
“Hi, Foolish, I’m Cellbit, and this is my hot Mexican husband, Roier,” he said, absolutely anticipating Roier’s punch to his arm. “We’re just trying to meet the neighbors.”
Foolish’s smile turned a bit nervous at that. “Mexican? Would you happen to know Mariana?”
Roier tilted his head at him. “Kind of? We talked for a bit on the train, that’s it.”
“Good!” He abruptly clapped and turned back around, beckoning them to follow him. “If we’re just chatting, then I wanna get back to work!”
The couple shared a confused silent conversation, and ended up just shrugging at each other.
Foolish led the way up the precarious structure up to where he’d left off. As he picked up some tools, he said nonchalantly, “What’d you really wanna talk about, huh?” He glanced back over at them when they didn’t reply. “C’mon, guys, no one’s gonna hear from up here.”
Wow, Cellbit thought, he’d never been able to pin someone as a burrinho inocente this fast before.
Roier shrugged at Cellbit before telling Foolish, “We wanna know if anything weird’s happened to you on the island yet.” After a second, he tacked on, “Besides the obvious.”
“Hm... define ‘weird’,” Foolish replied, head deep in a storage chest of building materials.
“Like... getting kidnapped, or getting body parts cut off.”
“Oh, that kind of weird.” Foolish shut the chest and shook his head. “Nothing that dramatic, no. I met an angel, though! We almost kissed!”
Cellbit and Roier blinked at him. “Really?” As crazy as that was, though, it wasn’t what they were looking for. Cellbit forced himself back to the topic. “So you haven’t noticed anything wrong with your body, either?”
“I’m in fantastic health, thank you very much,” Foolish huffed.
Roier’s eyebrows raised. “So you’re still immortal?”
Foolish’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’m as mortal as I’ve ever been, scumbag.”
Cellbit dragged his hand down his face exasperatedly. They had to outright say it, huh? “Did you get turned human?”
“What? Ew, no!” Foolish conspicuously looked around them and leaned in to whisper, “What gave you the idea I’m not human?”
The couple looked him up and down real hard. He continued staring blankly at them, so Roier rolled his eyes and said, “We talked to Philza.”
“Ohhh, Phil’s spilling my secrets, huh? That rapscallion!”
“Anyway, ” Cellbit steered the conversation back, “what about your non-human abilities? Are you still able to use them?”
“Yeah? I haven’t noticed anything weird yet, though I also haven’t exactly needed to use them, so...” Foolish thought for a second, then stepped back and tried to do... something? He gave them a thumbs-up as he informed, “Okay, yeah, I can’t do that! ”
Cellbit couldn't help the confused scrunch of his eyebrows. “Anything else?”
Foolish held out a second thumbs-up. “Everything else should be good, yep!”
“Have you already died and revived?”
“Yeah, no thanks to Bad, ” he said with the fury of a thousand suns. “But I was able to do that already. What’s the point of being a totem guy if I can’t do that?”
“So you're still... whatever you are,” Roier summarized.
Foolish's grin twisted into clear amusement. “Yep!”
“So all the non-humans we’ve met so far are still non-human, but restricted in some way,” Cellbit concluded, a troubled look on his face. “We really are the outliers.”
“The bear’s got something personal against us, man,” Roier said, crossing his arms. A pout grew on his face as he declared, “I’ve got something personal against him, too, then! Hmph!”
“Wait, so you guys were turned into humans?” Foolish inspected them for a second, absolutely fascinated. “From what?”
With a grimace, Cellbit watched as Roier admitted out loud, “We were vampires.”
Inexplicably, Foolish burst out laughing, wheezing and nearly collapsing under his own weight.
Roier startled back, then his face grew red with anger and he squeezed his hands into fists, blurting, “What’s wrong with you?!”
“Can’t help it, I laugh at tragedy,” he explained, wiping tears from his eyes. “Yikes, man, that’s the worst luck ever. Guess I know who’s the universe’s favorite punching bag now!”
“Not the universe’s,” Cellbit corrected grimly. “We think it’s because of whoever runs the island.”
“Ooh, really?” Foolish rubbed his hands together like a mischievous little fly. “I gotta meet whoever's got that kind of power! Oh! Is it that white bear guy with a gun?”
“Maybe?”
“Yeah! That guy's freaky! I'm gonna be his best friend!” Foolish roughly patted their shoulders with a reassuring nod. “I'll try to find out what happened to your vampire stuff, don't you worry!”
Unsure what they just got themselves into, Cellbit started saying, “We appreciate it-” and cut himself off when Foolish suddenly slapped Roier’s arm.
“Hey! What was that for?” Roier punched him in the arm back.
Foolish slapped his hand away, rubbing his own arm. “Hey, pal, I was doing you a favor! There was a mosquito on you!”
“A mosquito? On me? Drinking my blood?” Roier looked absolutely delighted. “That's never happened before!”
“Really?” Foolish’s eyes lit up. “Wait, yeahhh, that’s new for you! That’s crazy!”
Roier punched his arm again, though not as hard. “Why wouldn't you let my cousin have some food, man? He's just living his life! I don't mind!”
Foolish's grin widened as he said, “That's what I've been saying!” But then he paused and pouted. “Oh wait, right, someone told me mosquitoes ‘carry horrible diseases’ and they can kill the meatsacks they drink from.”
Cellbit started eyeing the insects around them more carefully. “How bad are these diseases?”
“Awful, body horror kinds of stuff. They're terrible ways to die. So yeah, it's probably not worth letting them eat you, unfortunately.”
Roier groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I can’t believe even tiny little bugs can kill me. What’s even the point, man?”
Foolish shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s any more pathetic than the fact that the sun could kill you before this.”
“The sun wouldn’t have killed me,” Roier scoffed, putting an ‘um, actually’ finger up into the air and pretending to push up glasses. “It just would’ve burned me so bad, that I wish it did.”
“So what, you don’t turn into ash?”
“I mean,” Cellbit said, a bit uncomfortable, but he couldn’t not correct the myth, “we would turn into dust with a stake to the heart. That’s the only way to kill one.”
Foolish scrunched his nose, disappointed. “How convenient, that you don’t leave a body behind. No one can take your stuff when you kick the bucket.”
Cellbit and Roier glanced at each other, thinking in unison how he absolutely looked like the kind of guy to rob dead guys.
Foolish blinked, then tilted his head innocently as he questioned, “Would you have been able to revive like everyone else if your body disintegrates when you die?”
After a solid five seconds of silence, Cellbit desperately grabbed at Foolish’s arms, voice dark. “Don’t tell me that’s why they nerfed us.”
“It might be!” Foolish bravely smiled through the painful squeezing of his arms. “You guys got muffined bad , dude.”
Roier stumbled back, pulling at his hair in despair. “It’s just for some torture experiment?!”
“Sucks to be you!” Foolish cheerfully informed them.
It was evening, by the time they’d trudged home, weighed down by the gravity of their discovery. Cellbit was too tired to toss about any theories; Roier was too tired to crack any jokes.
Cellbit had planned on having Roier try another new food for dinner, but... the house was too tense. They just ate apples again, so they didn’t have to think about dinner going cold.
They quietly both got ready for bed. When there was nothing left to do but lay down, though, they found themselves standing by the table, instead.
Roier was the one to break the silence, gripping the back of one of the chairs. “What now?”
Cellbit chewed on his answer for a moment, then eventually said, “I guess we just investigate the Federation and escape.”
Roier pursed his lips, decidedly not looking at him. “What happens if we can’t do it?”
Cellbit was ready to argue that they could, but- no, this scenario was wrong. Between the two of them, Roier was more often the optimist, not the realist, when it mattered. There was something else he was really looking for.
‘What now’ had a lot of answers.
“I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cellbit said, carefully trying to read Roier’s face.
“Are you sure?” Roier scrunched his face, trying to hold in his emotions. It didn’t sound accusatory in the slightest; if anything, it sounded like he was beating himself up for sounding so insecure.
“Yes,” Cellbit assured, stepping a bit closer to put his hand over Roier’s. “You know I take our vows seriously.”
“This isn’t in the vows,” Roier said, voice wavering. “Our relationship was built on the fact that we would never die. That we had all the time in the world.” His face twisted more as he said, like confessing a sin, “If I hadn’t taken those tickets-”
“If we hadn’t,” Cellbit was quick to correct, insistently squeezing his hand. “I’ve already said this before, Roier; in the slim chance you were killed, I would’ve been quick to follow you. It wouldn’t be worth living forever without you.”
Roier wrenched his hand away. “And if I’m the one killing you?”
“I’d let you,” he said.
He let out a bitter laugh. “A huevo. ”
“Have I really made you think I wouldn’t?” Cellbit asked, trying to not sound hurt. After a few seconds, Roier shook his head no, to his relief. “If I had to choose between immortality and being human with you, I’d...” He swallowed. It was an easy choice, but it was still hard to come to terms with. “I’d pick you.”
As wrong as his skin felt, that was true. It would’ve been true, ever since he realized he loved Roier.
Roier reached out to tightly hug Cellbit. “I’d pick you, too.”
They were relaxing out of the hold a bit when Cellbit shyly returned the question. “What now?”
Roier chewed on his lip, then answered, “I think we have to adapt our vows. I think we need to live like every day might be our last.”
Though it was grim, the romance of it made Cellbit smile. “What does that entail?”
Roier pressed his forehead to Cellbit’s shoulder. “Making sure we don't have regrets. Saying te amo until it gets annoying. We should go to bed, ready to die.”
Cellbit furrowed his eyebrows, worried. “Do you have any regrets?”
Roier huffed out a laugh. “Well. The train tickets. But there's nothing we can do about that.”
Cellbit conceded with a nod. He reached up his hand from Roier’s back to his nape, fiddling with his hair. “We can do our best to escape and find your family, so they can turn us again.”
“True. It depends on if we've grown sick of this, huh.” Grumbling, he admitted, “I've been growing kind of attached to being alive. I do like food a lot.”
“I've been growing attached to being alive if it's with you.” It wasn’t just to be sappy, either; Cellbit really liked the new sides he’d gotten to see from his partner in just the past couple days.
Roier teased, “Well, that's just a given. You can't get rid of me.”
After a moment, Cellbit said with a faint blush, “I regret not dancing with you every time I could. You would ask me when we went to balls and I'd say no.”
Roier blinked and looked back up to Cellbit’s eyes. “I don't hold that against you, it's fine.”
“I know, but... those were opportunities for memories, wasted. I let myself be too embarrassed over something so small.” Cellbit couldn’t hold the gaze any longer. “I thought I had eternity to work up the courage, but...”
Roier held out his hands. “We can dance now, if you want.”
“Do- do you have music for it?” he asked sheepishly.
“Not yet, but we don't need it. I'll keep a beat and sing like José José. But remember that no one is here to see.” He held Cellbit's hesitant hands. “We can dance every night, just the two of us.”
Roier started a basic waltz step, whistling out an improvised song. He was a patient teacher, considering how he made every effort to look impatient and cuss at Cellbit for every misstep.
“Someday, I’ll have you dancing circles around all those pretentious idiots at the ball,” Roier swore, as if they’d ever be able to go to one again.
“Of course,” Cellbit said anyway. “In fact, I never danced with you before just so everyone else wouldn’t be immediately outclassed.”
Roier cackled. “You shouldn’t worry too much about their egos, gatinho!”
Their house was little, but it was warm, as they spun through as much free space as they could. They hummed and sang and laughed, and it was perfect.
But all good moments had to come to an end. They tuckered out, and turned off the light, and stumbled to their bed.
Roier got comfy, and turned to give Cellbit their customary goodnight kiss, but stopped at the upset look on Cellbit’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Eventually, Cellbit whispered, “I don’t want to sleep. I don’t know what I’ll see.”
Roier seemed unsure what to say, considering he didn’t have much experience with sleeping yet. “You’d see me, wouldn’t you? I can’t leave you alone, even in your dreams.”
Well. He wasn’t wrong to assume that. “I hope you do.”
“I’ll figure out how to connect our dreams just to annoy you all night.”
He knew he was supposed to play along with the teasing, but he felt a little too desperate. He clung to Roier. “Please do.”
Roier clung back, rubbing a hand along Cellbit’s back.
For the first time since they’d shown up here, Cellbit let himself be vulnerable first. He quietly pleaded, “I don't want to lose you. I don't want to go.”
“You won’t, not yet,” Roier promised.
“I’m not ready.”
Roier sighed into Cellbit’s hair. “We don’t have to be ready to die tonight. But we’ll be ready tomorrow.”
Cellbit barely nodded.
They fell asleep to pleasant dreams.