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Indulgence.
It was the only thing he really knew anymore. That familiar fizzy feeling was the only thing that quelled his racing thoughts, replacing the warm, bubbling sensation that had been forced out of his throat all those months ago. Sometimes, the buzz didn’t even feel pleasant anymore. It was only enough to pull him out of the darkness in his head.
Filthy his life was. Wallowing in his self-pity every day, hoping the bottle would push it away for a while longer, but he always ends up stirring in hopeless sobriety, just to do it all over again.
Ever since its drifter arrived in town, the Shade would approach him nearly every morning. Shaking blood (that he found out to be Drifter’s) from its boot and the end of its grey cloak as it pulled itself out of the shadows cast by the tech shop. He really didn’t like it at first, thinking that it would have initially dragged him all the way to hell, where he belonged.
The first few visits, it would sit uncomfortably close and stare at him all over, as if he were some kind of lab specimen. It had no feelings and showed no emotion; it didn’t even speak. Perhaps there was a very persistent curiosity, but he really didn’t feel like its friend, more like a prop that amused the strange creature.
Despite the discomfort and annoyance he originally felt towards the creature, he found himself beginning to enjoy its presence. He thought he was going crazy, feeling so lonely that he’d start seeking comfort in the company of a wraith probably sent to torture the other half of his mind. Its visits became less of an odd examination of bad habits and more of a silent hangout.
He’d wake up, sit down, and drink, and it would settle somewhere around. Maybe real close. He surrendered his personal space to it.
He kept telling himself it’d remain bothersome, a rock in his routine. A routine he swore he had no control over, despite his clear sloth. He didn’t wish for anything new, just to drown everything all out.
… But after opening his eyes in the early mornings, he started waiting for it to crawl out of the shadows.
It always did.
Rade stirs, breathing in the wet morning air and pushing himself up off his sleeping mat. The canopy he had set up over his head had fallen and now rests over his legs. He grabs the fallen corners, straightening them out and tiredly standing up to pin each corner back into the walls. He thinks again about settling in one of the old, run-down apartments. Someone else deserves a nice home.
He’d stay, like he had since he came there. He wasn’t deserving of such a luxury, and the constant exhaustion also discouraged him from moving from his spot.
Then, his ear flicks, and he hears the familiar shuffling of cloth, and he knows it's risen from the darkness once again.
“Hey, Dop,” he croaks the nickname he’s come to call it, not yet turning to meet it. He knew it’d come closer anyway. Rade kneels in front of his white chest full of bottles and his folded cloak, pulling out two bottles by the necks.
The thing behind him let out a low, alien trill, stepping closer as he leaned against the wall in his usual seat. The moist grass wets his kilt and boots.
He doesn’t meet its eyes for now, focusing on the bottle in his hand. He can’t help the warm feeling in his cheeks, knowing it continues to visit him. He hasn’t even had a sip yet.
It takes a seat beside him, picking up a bottle and shaking it to watch it bubble. Rade finally takes a small sip out of his.
“What? You finally wanna try?” he asks, and it simply stares at him, still shaking the bottle. He sighs, taking a big swig this time. Its back leans against his shoulder, so he shifts a bit to get more comfortable. His free hand strayed towards its cloak, fiddling with the damp cloth.
Its head tilts back, watching him eerily while it lets out a quiet, echoing sigh. Before, he’d probably push it off or shoo it away after being startled by a noise like that, but he now knows it means no harm.
He can already feel his mind clearing, but one question stays: is it choosing not to speak? He was sure there was some sort of communication between it and the drifter it’s tied to.
“You never speak to me,” he finally says, watching its head lean back, staring up at him with its curious eye. Its body felt so warm against his shoulder, even with their thick layers of dark cloth.
He holds back a smile, waiting for it to do something, but it just keeps staring. He doesn’t usually ask for anything at all, other than the first few “what the hell do you want?”s and “why won’t you stop bothering me?”s. This is the first time in weeks that he’s expressed interest in learning about it, and he almost senses something like excitement from the shade. It made him question the shade’s odd disposition even more.
It turns its head as if it were on a swivel, which draws a startled yelp from him.
“You aren’t gonna kill me for asking, are you?” he laughs awkwardly as it turns to him fully and knocks the bottle out of his hand. He wasn’t too bothered; he understands it isn’t like him. It’s done some weird things before.
“Yer creeping me out,” he grunts, a little uncomfortable now.
It raises its clawed hands, slowly pressing them against his shoulders. A shiver ran through his body, fur bristling. He can feel something stirring, and despite how odd this all felt, he remained still. He hasn’t even finished a full bottle, so why isn’t he letting himself pull away? Is he frozen in fear or excited anticipation?
He mentally prepares himself for a possibly horrifying experience. He’s heard stories of a demon of Death, a shared hallucination with the same eye engraved into its shadowy visage. The eye that’s watching him now.
I’m really letting it do this.
He was surprised, even by himself, at the fact that he feels drawn to something as enigmatic as this; a silent shadow summoned by darkness and borrowed blood. It’s going to do something weird, and he wants to see it through.
“Dop…” he exhales, lying back and letting it scoot closer. As strange as it already felt, its usually intimidating gaze felt warm. It felt safe.
Now, he’s not sure if it’s real.
Is this just another form of indulgence?
Was he that desperate for something new?
What was going on?
It’s not something he thinks he deserves or thinks he wants. He thought he had been dead set on this self-destructive routine, destined for death. He can feel something spilling into his head, something he doesn’t understand yet. That stirring feeling turned into a pit in his stomach, and the confusion began to make him panic.
He can’t understand the new noise in his head, and it finally makes him want to pull away, but even through his panic, he needs to see what it wants to share with him. His weak hands reach up to loosely grasp its forearms. Its face nears his, and he can feel his heart beating hard in his chest. It is real. It’s right there, with him.
The brightness of its fuchsia eye is all he can see now.
He lets out a quiet whine of discomfort. His thoughts are blurry, as if whatever was spilling in was trying to look deeper. It feels shaky and sporadic, like even the shade didn’t know what it was doing.
Then, the heaviness in his body drops, and he feels light again. He still hasn’t pulled away from its hands. The confusion is still there, but his panic has gone away, replaced with a warmth similar to how it felt whenever it leaned against him.
WILL YOU LET ME IN?
The question was sudden and loud, echoing in his mind. He blinks, trying to look at where it placed its hands, but all he can do is feel.
“I… yeah,” it’s quieter than he imagined it to be. He feels out of place in whatever warm plane they existed together on at the moment.
He can tell now that it’s not just his first time feeling something like this, as it reluctantly pulled into him. They feel closer than before, but he can’t feel its body against his. It is him. He recognizes a feeling of contentment within what seemed to be its empty mind. Was he influencing something here?
YOU’RE GUARDED.
“Guarded?” he asks, snapped out of his thoughts, feeling their chest with what he thinks is their hand.
I CANNOT SEE. I CANNOT BOND.
“Bond what? Don’t tell me you’re trying to get stuck like this.”
YOUR MIND IS FULL.
“I’m not sure what that means.”
It rips away from him, causing them both to fall apart from each other and growl in pain.
He can see again. The light of the world stings his eyes as the two pant and gasp for air. He doesn’t remember holding his breath. He supposed this… attempt at “bonding” tired them.
Once he clears the dizziness enough to sit up, he reaches a shaky hand to the shade crouched over themself.
“Dop….” He calls out, fingers finally hooking onto that soft, warm cloth.
TIME.
He can hear their voice, but it’s not in his head anymore.
“Holy shit, Dop,” he tugs gently, coaxing them into sitting with him, “you can talk.”
Their movements are slow and sluggish, like their body is heavy.
“Time? What’s that mean? You okay?” He asks, letting them fall into his arms.
WE NEED TIME.
“We need time? For… That bond you said? What even was that?”
NO, WE ARE BONDED, BUT IT IS NOT COMPLETE.
His eyes widened, and he realized now that his hand was stroking their back. He doesn’t stop.
“You’re, uh, not in my head, though. You’re speaking out loud. I don’t understand.”
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND EITHER.
“Oh,” he thought about how inexperienced they might be. It felt dangerous, yet, it felt right.
“This is new to you, yeah?”
YOU MAKE ME FEEL.
“Ah…” his face flushes again even as he barely understands what was happening. He’s starting to overheat with how warm they both are against each other. His discomfort and the alcohol has long been forgotten, and now he just wants to be close.
“What do you, er, mean? Do you mean you didn’t… feel anything at all before?”
THAT IS RIGHT. I DID NOT FEEL BEFORE. NOT LIKE MY DRIFTER, AND NOT LIKE YOU.
They pause, head turning to meet his gaze. Their eye doesn’t chill him like it did before the bonding.
“What do you feel?”
WARM. I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TRUE PURPOSE. I FEEL… REAL. I’VE NEVER FELT ANYTHING LIKE THIS, IT IS SO COMPLEX. WHEN I AM HERE, MY HEAD IS FULL.
“With me?”
ONLY WITH YOU.
He relaxes against the wall, holding them in his arms still. They’re both quiet for the rest of the cool morning, heated by their shared body warmth.