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It had been several years. He had forgotten exactly when. There was something important he was forgetting. But he was always burying something. Why did he care this time? What was it?
——-
Don’t follow the wind, Wilford said to himself.
He didn’t need a suit, he could just alter the toxic air around him to be normal and breathe it as if everything hadn’t been destroyed all it was.
He’d felt the fracture. Too soon, the world had a toxic crack in it, bleeding a toxic aquamarine color, like those cheap geodes. It was getting worse, and the fallout wasn’t helping.
“Nuclear fallout. Carnage.”
He took a deep breath and continued on a bit longer.
——
He wasn’t stable enough to fix anything with definitive certainty but he knew his world would probably perish, along with several others, and he realized how painfully real everything was that he had been ignoring.
Reality sure meant nothing, but destruction meant even worse, and he wasn’t so broken to know, as his brain regained devastating clarity.
“Funny, the world is now so broken that I unbroke just a little bit in order to see it fall. How fun.”
He knew that at least something must have been laughing at him at that very moment.
—-
He needed to rest somewhere. Just a small tear in reality shouldn’t hurt, especially with several large tears in it already from whatever the influence was.
‘Nothing’s real, nothing’s real, nothing to worry about,’came the chant in his head.
“And…there,” he said.
A friendly enough world, with beings who could not die, even if they wanted to. Beings beholden to the living world, sure, but everyone was beholden to fate somehow. Maybe the world that was playing with them was still alive and well. Would that be bad to wish?
He remembered peeking his head in that world a longer time ago. He almost thought he might’ve missed someone, but his head was a sieve these days, and he couldn’t quite get a handle on who he might have needed to check on. Regardless, it wasn’t as if whoever it was would miss him.
It all came rushing back when he saw the other man again.
Ken rushed at him, his plastic body matching to Wilford’s, leaning against him, holding him desperately.
“I thought you were gone forever,” he said, looking Wilford in the eye, “you were the first that made me feel..real. Meaningful. Like I had a purpose. And now it may be too late.”
The world that used to be so wondrous (oh yes, he remembered it now) was melted and burnt at the edges, discolored and somber, the clouds above green and yellow in a mockery of the blue skies and sunsets.
“I was doing my routine like I usually did when it came. Ever since my other half left, I’ve been a bachelor, but I’ve never built up the courage to leave. It all blends together at the edges. I knew you’d come back some day. Wish it had been sooner.”
He walked with Ken through the desolate expanse, until Ken stopped to look around. He saw something, heard something, it was clear.
It was hard to make out, the further away it was, but he noticed what the something was as they got closer. It almost resembled a man, but resembled more of a puddle than a man. If you squinted, it might look a bit like Michael Cera. It was simple but surreal in its grotesque nature, almost like an art project created by someone who used to aim a magnifying glass at ants when they were a child. Fascinating, truly.
“Ken! Down here!”
“Yeah, I know, Alan. Doing good?”
“Not really! Not like I can move like this or anything.”
“Yeah I figured. I’m doing fine up here.”
“I can see that.”
“Hey! You’re back!”
What was left of Alan pointed to Wilford.
“I came from similar destruction. I might have had some naive hope your paradise wasn’t destroyed like my world was.”
“Well, as long as you’re together, it’s going to be all right.”
Well, might as well.
—-
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
The world was colorful, but Wilford knew it meant nothing. He made it that way. He felt…something, maybe. Like there might’ve been something. But he couldn’t get to it.
Wilford looked guilty. They were sitting at a table and chairs, and he had summoned some tea. He made sure Ken could drink it because it would be pointless for someone made of plastic to drink anything but imaginary tea but if anyone wanted to try something new it would be Ken, and he didn’t know why he knew that.
“I’m sorry. I thought there was something but I can’t reach it-can’t think back at all.”
Ken sighed.
“You know that the world was muted long before the fallout hit. We had a life. And you threw it all away. Don’t you remember?
We had a wondrous few weeks. My other half had left and I was sorta in house arrest because I had kinda sorta led an uprising but I went to this club and there you were and there I was and it was in my radius and I kinda sorta had a ‘love at first sight’ moment. Then you left and it broke my heart all over again.”
He took a sip of tea and his eyes widened, before wincing. Maybe he didn’t know he might burn his tongue because he didn’t usually have a tongue.
“I-I didn’t know. I really didn’t.”
“Oh, that’s right. You were too busy killing people on that interview show of yours, right? Yeah. I heard.”
“And how did you do that?”
His hair turned pink for a second. It was longer than a second. It was Wilford’s turn to flinch. He wouldn’t wish anything he’d gone through on anyone. Anyone at all.
“I know a lot more than you think. Did you think that kiss would do nothing? We shared saliva.”
“The what?”
“What, did you erase that too?”
“I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. I returned because I wanted to check to see if this plane of existence was as bad as the other plane of existence. I don’t know why I felt the need to, but I-“
The clouds were threatening rain, and each contained a frowning face on them. They didn’t look happy. Wilford didn’t recall changing them.
“Well,” said Ken, “you have me back. Perhaps it’ll all come back to you soon enough.”
Wilford took a long and deliberate swig of his tea and looked towards Ken.
“I’ll remember now.”
The kiss was long, and passionate, and really quite tender, and Wilford had no idea how to deal with it, but he especially had no idea how to deal with how the memories reemerged exactly as Ken had promised they would.
——
“Drink for Winkleheimer?”
Wilford took the drink from the bartender, and looked inside. Plastic. He needed more than plastic. He snapped his fingers, and it filled with something harder.
Sipping at his cocktail, Wilford adjusted his fro and scanned the club. The dance floor was classic, the colors were vibrant, and the music was pumping. Shame everything was plastic.
A man entered. He almost looked like the other men, but he had a real world ankle bracelet on which Wilford was unsure of how that might’ve gotten there. He grinned, and the monitor digitally spun like a slot machine, showing a symbol of a martini before switching back to the regular numbers.
The man had tousled blond hair and was wearing a pink leather jacket on his jacked plastic body. He had a look of wonder in his eyes when he spotted Wilford.
“Bartender?,” said the blond man,”get me an iced air. On the rocks.”
Wilford would be lying if he didn’t see the stereotypical hot girl sequence complete with little tiny anime flowers and hair commercial tussling (wasn’t Ken’s hair supposed to be molded these days? He had no right to have hair this perfect.)
“Winkleheimer, huh? Haven’t seen a ‘Winkleheimer’ around these parts. Are you new?”
“Time is relative.”
“I’ll, eh, take that as a yes. Welcome, new guy!!!! As a new guy, I suppose you’ll be my friend.”
“I’ll do you one better,” said Wilford. “I understand you desire new company and I just happened to be in the area. How about we become life partners?
I can tell you need one, and my old guy says we’re closer to Roger and Valiant than to Roger and Jessica. I suppose he thinks I’m doing it for the bit. I like to keep him guessing. But he’s right, he’s no forever catch. How about you be that for me? Fill that role that’s been empty for so long? I can sense that longing in you as well, good sir.”
He might regret it later, but it didn’t matter a smidge in that moment.
Ken took his hand.
——-
“Why do you wear a watch?,” said Ken.
“I mean, why wouldn’t you wear a watch?,” replied Wilford. “Time didn’t mean anything for me until I regained the notion of it again by wearing a watch. Besides, time deserves its own form of measurement. I, eh, heard that somewhere, maybe. Younger guy. Army man. I wanted to play cat and mouse with him too but he shut that down real quick.”
“Time doesn’t matter here,” said Ken.
“Sometimes I get bored. But riots got us nowhere last time, so here I am with my former life partner chaining me to our old routine. Literally. Look at this thing. I didn’t even know what this thing was. Actually, I think I remember one. Like, once. But it wasn’t this real. Only lasted a few days. This one? Months, Wingleheimer.”
“It’s Wilford.”
“Right then. Wilford Wingleheimer.”
“I like the way you say it,” said the now-dubbed Wilford Wingleheimer.
—-
There was a tear in the wall. One might make a joke about The Yellow Wallpaper or The Backrooms or something, but the apt comparison would be The Cave or The Blind Men and the Elephant, or even The Lego Movie. The idea that the whole picture can’t be seen, and the idea of the fourth wall in the cave where no one would stare out into the distant stars and see the world beyond the blindfold.
The glimpse of the Real World, for Barbie, didn’t kill her. Fascination, for Barbie, caused her permanent relocation. But Ken saw something else through the crack that day. He saw everything.
He had an instinct, as he went through brutal and agonizing pain, to call for the man with the pink fro.
“Wilford!,” he said to nothing. “Wilford!”
Then all he saw was darkness, until he could see a keyhole of light, and…
A stroke of luck! Someone started playing with him. How they had found the exact Ken to play with remained to be seen, but he didn’t care-it was enough energy to recover for years.
But being played with only brought him closer to Wilford. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Wilford was still watching over him.
“Have you guys ever thought about murder?”
——-
“…Oh.,” said Wilford. “That was why you were in one piece.”
“Really?,” said Ken.
“I’m sorry,” said Wilford. He pulled something from his pocket, and Ken felt deeply exposed.
“I knew I had that on me for a reason. I could almost forget I was alone, with a doll like him around. And now I am looking between the two of you and I can see that you’re one and the same.”
Ken laughed, embracing the man.
“I would be who knows where if it wasn’t for you. You saved me. Thank you. You never left, did you? You never-“
“Easy there,” said Wilford. “No need to cause a paradox by touching him.”
Ken laughed awkwardly.
“I don’t know-I think I already caused one by staring at a crack in my wall too long. I think it was a wormhole or something.”
—
The room was neon and brick, almost akin to a bougie venue or bar or coffee shop. Inspirational sayings littered the walls based out with lights. Greenery filled in the cracks in the brick. A line of paintings was on the west wall, each older than the last.
“I know why the world is as it was. I don’t like it.”
A woman with a wide white smile and a long dress that looked almost like it was from a science fiction movie tapped the table.
“I need your help. Sit.”
An interview with someone else? Wilford weighed it over. Or an interrogation. Maybe they’d sit next to each other and try to make each other talk in a flirtatious cat and mouse of witty banter-but as much as he would love that, he was sadly a very flaming homosexual.
“All right,” stated Wilford, “what do you want? Why are you telling me?”
She smiled at him, and he found himself missing Ken’s smile. He took out the doll from his pocket, and started manipulating his arm slightly so that his Ken (his Ken? When did he start thinking of that Ken as ‘his?’) would blow a kiss. The deity in front of him grit her teeth, then flinched only slightly at the toy. Perhaps she sensed its power.
“I don’t want you to be like your friends are now,” the woman with the white hair said.
“My friends?,” asked Wilford, pressing a kiss to the doll’s forehead.
“Yes. Damian. Celine. The DA. Those friends. If they’re someone they can use, my brothers will be like the entity. They will-“
She sighed.
“I’m in charge of the emotions in this room, before you freak out.”
Wilford nodded.
“Continue,” he said, deeply serious.
“My brothers would ruin you and never return you to anything resembling humanity. Sure you’ve lost so much of yourself already, but there’s still you there, and that’s something they’d be more than happy to use. And your toy, too. They like those. All the wrong reasons to like those.”
Wilford waggled an eyebrow.
“Not like that. They’ll take any vessel they can get, and the more powerful it is the better. It’ll only be them in the end times.”
Webby grabbed what seemed like a coffee cup from nowhere and started drinking from it.
“ I have a way to revert it,” said Webby. “But I’ll need so many to be on board to do so. Others who survived. Their power will power the rebirth.”
Wilford nodded, knowing what must be done.
“I’ll be the first.”
Webby smiled.
“I knew you would say that. And since I’m so benevolent, I’ll throw in the doll, too. He’s your soulmate now, if I’m tracking things right. Or something close to that at least. Someone you can’t live without. I was going to ask for your wants, desires. See if I could give you any before they twisted them for their own needs. But when I saw him I knew. Smitten. That’s the word for it.”
Wilford shook her hand.
“Great. We have a deal. Guess we’ll see your new world soon enough, Webby.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
———-
The blond man is…on a couch when he zones back in from wherever he was. It’s odd-he can feel something like soft needlepoint on the pillows, but to have the couch also as comfy was foreign to him.
There’s a man next to him, his scent an odd combination of bubblegum and alcohol. Straightening his hair nervously, he leaned into the other man with a sigh.
Oh, wait. He did actually remember the man. But why they were here was a mystery to him. Oh right, he got the place recommended as sort of a last ditch from his own and the man’s…well, they called themselves ‘family,’ but he wasn’t entirely sure, to help with both of their issues as a (supposed) couple.
“So I take it you two are-“
His ‘partner’ shook the other pink haired’s hand briskly.
“Wilford Motherloving Warfstasche, wonderful to meet you, good sir!”
“-I was going to say ‘experiencing memory problems.’ But hi! Welcome to you both. I suppose you’ve heard of how unconventional I am in my technique from my extended family-“
“Yes, yes, on with it good sir.”
The other was clearly holding something back as he looked at the couple, which didn’t really seem like just a professional kind of thing to him but it didn’t seem malicious either. The glint died in a few minutes and he could have sworn he saw something else glint in them-a bubblegum pink sort of color.
“For me, it’s a lot easier to compare to existing things. Anything you’ve enjoyed recently-at all. I find movies and TV shows to be the easiest to compare to. But to talk about how ‘Star crossed lovers’ this is, well it almost feels crass in how simplistic that judgment feels. Two people who need a little extra nudge for that spark they know is in them. Together. Past be darned. To work through their demons through time and space and beyond, together, and no longer be alone. You’ve finally found the one who will listen, is that right?”
The other’s dopey grin almost hurts to see.
“Hmmm I suppose I have. I came to you before, don’t you remember?”
He gets another look in his eye, but it again settles into something different and maybe a bit more neutral.
“…yeah. I think you interviewed me or something. I don’t remember much of it. Doesn’t mean I’m not still impartial, you don’t really know me.”
Wilford’s eyes widened this time.
“Wait, you’re not-oh, of course you’re not. I didn’t-“
Emile steadied.
“What didn’t you do, Wilford?”
“Do you remember anything odd? Like, say, a bullet?”
“A what?”
Wilford realized something, then pulled the man next to him (you) closer in and squeezed almost too hard.
“Of course you don’t. C’mon, Ken.”
Ken? Was that his name?
“We’ve taken enough of the good doctor’s time.”
He snorted in disbelief (something characterizing it that seemed heavy and knowing, somehow) as he pulled Ken along through the doors.
“We only have ten minutes left anyway. Time is fleeting. Unpredictable. These days I like to wear a watch.”
Wilford frowned.
“You idiot,” he said to himself “Just because your memory’s clearer than usual means jackshit when you have to remember it all. And poor Ken-why, he doesn’t understand anything. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. I need to fill the crack, I need to- You shouldn’t have ever-“
“What is it?”
Ken held Wilford’s hand. He wanted to be a comforting presence, perhaps. At least that’s how he justified the notion.
“I just wanted someone who understood. I don’t know what this place is, I swear.”
Ken turned to face him.
“I thought I was the only one! I’m so glad you feel the same way. I have no idea who these extra people are! I want to know, they all seem so cool, but I don’t know.”
“Oh. Well, that part you have to get used to.”
“What-“
“Nothing. Welcome to the knowledge of the universe. Nothing’s real. Everything’s real. You’re dead. You’re alive. That’s right. You’ve never been alive. You know that, don’t you?”
“I think so. But I think I can get to know this place. You’re not forcing me to love you, right?”
He laughs. Ken thinks he wants to hear it again.
“Oh no, nothing like that, really. I let something happen. It would’ve gotten worse if I-if I didn’t- listen. If the therapist was here, he’d probably diagnose with some sort of reference. I didn’t let him mention anything like he usually does because he might have recognized you, but I digress, I digress.
He might’ve said something about a ‘time knife’ like from the Good Place. Or maybe ‘the bagel.’ Once you see all the worlds at once you realize nothing matters. That’s something I never wanted to share with anyone as a burden just for me to bear, but someone pulled the fire alarm. And gave me something to…shut me up. She meant well, I think. Maybe. I don’t remember asking but I know I did. She got me to ask, I am sure of it.”
Ken frowned.
“That’s why my memories are fuzzy, but I know wherever this is is…wrong?”
“Yes. I didn’t want you to lose any more of yourself. She didn’t either, or she would have made you something different.”
They approached the pink house with a white picket fence, soft manicured garden, and a small engraved star and heart on the door, labeled ‘7.’
“Home sweet home. Lucky 7. I’ll help you remember a few more things over some tea, perhaps. Just to help you out. I do feel… bad, leaving you like this as long as I have.”
——-
They sat down at the table and Wilford snapped his fingers. A tea set appeared, and he got to pouring.
“I hope you like Earl Gray. I know it’s simple, but you can always add as much sugar as you desire if you’d like.”
Ken nodded.
“I don’t know why I think this, because I get the oddest feeling I don’t like simple, but black tea is fine.”
He poured a glass.
“Fabulous! Now, let’s continue. Why not just pull the trigger? Sink even deeper…”
He grit his teeth, and Ken could see him struggling to continue, but he did it anyway.
“I care about you. I met you, before all this. I would have liked that you, as well, if she hadn’t done her tricks. I suppose she had to, to keep everything together, but still.”
Ken held him. He tried to sneak a sip of tea, only for his eyes to be fixated on Wilford instead.
“ A deity was trying to get rid of some odd influences and in the process played a little bit of fanfiction with our lives.”
He laughed, and Ken couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“I suppose you’re used to that bit. You wouldn’t get it, not like this, but if you did, you’d give me that sweet smile you always do when you laugh.
At least…well, as little as 10 that I know of, deals on her end from everyone who had the power to accept them were made, had to happen, and brava, she’s created somewhere to live in harmony where they can’t touch. I don’t know why it mostly took egos, but… Unfortunately this new world kind of clouded everything with her idea of what ‘normal’ is.
Honestly, normal is boring and at least her sitcom is tolerable, and oddly she lets pain happen when it will, but it’s melodramatic, not lasting.
She created somewhere that she could change fate after what has to run its course. I doubt she could have done it alone. She said I needed, no, that my heart wished for a tether, and she gave me you, and I-well, I can’t say I don’t know why. You’re everything I dreamed. And I know it’s selfish to take that away, but you were built to be a vessel and I-arghhh, she’s poisoned me already.
My friends were…they’re safe here. They’re safe here. I almost forgot. I mourned them. I mourned you. But how could that be? You’re right here. Aren’t you? You’re right here.
I can’t say her name, or at least I won’t force it until it comes up, because names have power, but to have a family? One that expresses concern about everything I always wished would be acknowledged? To have a home, and a loving boyfriend, and to be getting better, truly better-means more to me than anything else in the other world ever did. People care about me, Ken. I never thought they’d do that at all, for anything other than fleeting attention.
I’m sorry you’re forgetting. You don’t deserve it. At least remember the past year we spent together. I’ll fill in those pesky gaps if you’ll let me.”
Ken melted into him. They were no longer sitting across from each other.
“Your name is Ken Carson. You’re a lifeguard, sometimes. Trust fund kid, your family used to own a toy company before your parents disowned you for being gay and you ran. Oh, you ran far away, taking all you could with you until your little feet could take you no farther.
Your community was…insular, to say the least. One could almost believe, eh, some flavor of Christian, perhaps, though I never hear you talking about it.
We met at a disco club, eh, about a year back. You were staying at the motel next door. Yes, we moved quickly on this house, but we could afford it with the checks I get from serving in the war a while back, plus the amount you took into your new accounts. Modest, but bright and wonderfully maximalist. I never thought I’d-we’d-have taste, but, well, it’s tasteful too.
It was a heated few nights, I was on house arrest to the house I was paying off with my checks and not yet with yours-long story, killed a man allegedly-and the club was the farthest my monitor would let me. Until, there you are. Wandering aimlessly until you asked for a pink sparkly cocktail. Then I knew you were missing something and I could be that something. That bandaid, as it were, since it seems you were getting over a relationship with someone else who had escaped, a Miss Handler.”
“Continue,” Ken said, softly, still clinging on.
“It wasn’t a long game, you were desperate for attention, change, something colorful and just enough still of your domestic little cage-sorry, but it’s true-and I gave it. All there is to say. But I will also say we’re smitten with each other.”
“Are we?,” says Ken.
He hoped so. Even if it was fake, he could believe it for Wilford and whoever the mysterious ‘her’ was.
“Very much. Your family was…resistant, same as mine. My cousin just left a cult, you see. It was too close for comfort. But he wasn’t an issue when his better half came into the picture, too. It showed that stability was really the only issue. And boy was it, for us. But we lived. Oh, I should tell you-Apples misses you.”
“Apples?”
“Your horse, at the farm down the road.”
Ken’s eyes glowed with his own natural power. He liked horses very much.
“Then we have to visit?”
Wilford smiled.
“You’re probably a bit tired today, but maybe tomorrow. I have to clear a few things up with your folks, the ones who still care about you. I guess, I have to explain, that you remember now. Less painful that way.”
Ken nodded. He didn’t want to let go, but Wilford broke out of his grasp. Mean.
“And maybe I can have a little talk with Her. Maybe Webby will be more willing to talk if I tell her how much I love this place. And how much you like me. My perfect match. Hah. No one needs to mess with it. Hah-meddlers.”
—-