Chapter Text
“Do you like me?”
Bear stammers and smiles, not giving a direct answer. The boy’s eyes are nearly bulging out of his face with a clear “Yes!! Yes I do!!” but his mouth is flopping up and down like a gaping fish out of water. It’s getting cold, Nikki’s feet are dying to get out of her heels, and she’s on her last nerve with this guy; but she knew better to leave a troubled friend behind without clearing the air about whatever was bothering him. She still has two weeks left at her job, but some days she considers leaving town early; there is nothing for her in LA except the old shell of high school she’s trying to shed off like a crab. The last thing she needs is him transforming from a friend she once considered a younger brother into a creepy stalker ogling her posts and vagueposting like her ex did - to a degree, her dad does the same thing. So she takes the words from behind the lines and waits for him to address his troubles.
The boy still rambles. She asks him again, “Bear, do you like me?” and waits for a response. A gust of wind passes with stray leaves skittering across the concrete.The street lights glow like cat’s eyes.
Bear goes silent. His nervous smile just grows wider, as if begging to stop the interrogation. His eyes are still bulging. For a moment Nikki feels a pang of sympathy - did no one teach this guy how to be vulnerable?
However, the blisters on her heels are screaming to escape and the pity party ends. Nikki presses her lips together into a polite smile and turns back to her house. “Goodnight, Bear,” she gives before walking away from his old car. The smile dropping from his face and the back of his head slamming against the headrest don’t go unnoticed. “I tried,” she thinks to herself, “geez, I knew I’d regret wearing these-“
Just as she’s wringing her keys out of her jacket a blaring alarm sounds loud enough to make her crouch on the front doorstep. Every other sound of the street drowns in the abyssmal siren that shakes her skull. You’d think WWIII is starting with this siren calling. She instinctively moves to turn away from it, but she just squirms in place; it’s coming from all over everywhere. She covers her ears; it shrieks even louder. She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s not until the alarm quiets itself down that she recognizes the words it’s saying:
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEA-
Nikki’s head pounds against her skull. Nothing else is in her mind except the incessant chants. She presses to put in other words, ANY other words. Nothing but this loud, annoying, haunting voice that eerily sounds like her own. As she strains to push back against this invader, she realizes in horror that her body had alrady moved without her will.
Her legs are taking her to Bear’s car. Why?? Why am I going to his car- her questions are drowned out by the chanting again. She feels her face, her lips, her jaw moving to speak. These are not her words. Nikki attempts to close her mouth - the chanting gets louder until she stops trying. She feels helpless - the chanting doesn’t change. She feels angry, the chanting stays the same. The invader makes her eyes look at Bear, who is beaming in a pleased surprise. Nikki feels hate - the chanting doesn’t get louder. All Nikki can do is feel, not think. Any thinking makes the chants punish her with the sheer volume that shakes her soul. So Nikki feels, and feels, and feels.
Still staring at Bear from the car window, watching him smile genuinely as if nothing is wrong, she feels there’s something very wrong with her. She feels there’s something wrong with how he’s not noticing anything wrong. She feels confused about how he doesn’t notice anything wrong. She feels suspicious that he might know what’s going on. She feels like she’s on some sort of drug. She feels like he might have drugged her in some way. She feels like that weird box from that one store she saw once that’s sitting ripped open on his lap might have something to do with it. She feels like this is Bear’s fault. She feels disgust, betrayal, and hurt. She feels angry.
So angry, that despite the pattern she just learned from this invader’s warnings she pushes. She grips at the surface, feeling for any cracks, to push two words. Two syllables. She feels she can do it; something in her core tells her she can. It’s a feeling from a deep, yet familiar place. Something warm, like a hug. It feels, she feels, that she can push harder. So she pushes.
Her hand feels something cold and metal. It’s on the car door’s handle. No. NO. Nikki feels like she does NOT want to be in the car. She wants to be in her house, with her shoes off, and watching true crime on her phone. She wants to have her body back. She WILL HAVE HER BODY BACK.
“Hey, a-are you ok?” the boy from the driver’s seat asks. “You’re just standing there.”
Nikki wants him to shut up, but her customer service nature is still intact. She and the invader agree on the next words out of her mouth: “I’m fine, don’t worry about it! I’m just-“
A crack. Nikki shoves her way through like a battering ram. The wall is thicker than she thought, but she pushes on anyway. She digs a prisoner-style tunnel, burrowing slowly through this ancient, intricate web that took over her consciousness. That warm, familiar feeling accompanies her. It’s like an old friend supporting her from behind in this dark, confusing tunnel.
The invader fights back - the chanting’s volume raises until Nikki’s eyes feel like they’re about to burst. Her saliva pools at the back of her throat and it tastes like metal. Her body coughs and gargles as it stands frozen by Bear’s car with its mind at war with itself. Her hand hovers over the passenger door handle and shivers in the cold air.
”Hey, wh-“ the boy calls out. The two words finally break through.
”FUCK. OFF.” She’s finally moving her own lips and using her own voice, but it’s not just hers. It’s a horrid harmony of other voices screaming from within her core. None of them, however, are of the invader. The chanting is over.
Finally free of whatever that was, Nikki finds a new problem: a massive fucking headeache. It’s as if all the thoughts she tried to push through that web are broken out of an old dam. She staggers on the sidewalk, holding her head in her hands. Out of muscle memory she limps her way back to her front steps.
”Whatever, bitch,” she hears Bear say. She whips her head around and spits back, “FUCK YOU!” To her surprise, Bear is gone. Nikki watches his car’s lights disappear as he drives away from her block.His voice still rings as if he’s standing next to her, albeit a little more distant than last: “No wonder she was called ‘Freaky Nikki.’ At least I still have those photos from last summer…”
His voice finally dies off. Nikki stands at her door feeling a million things but thinking only one: “I need an Aspirin ASAP.”
Thanks to the seasonal expansion pack the Eridian scientists had added, Simon is celebrating strawberry season. Their sweet aroma fills the dewy air of the greenhouse. Sitting in their protective bushes under the golden light are dozens and dozens of Simon’s hard-earned, plump, heart-shaped strawberries. If Simon had his husband’s level of self-control he’d munch on all the red berries right then and there. He reminds himself of the strawberry shortcake, ddalgi satang, and other yummy treats he can make for Ryland to cheer him up. Ryland loves sweet, tangy treats and these strawberries will, without a doubt, make his day.
Simon adjusts the Ziploc bag into his prosthetic hand’s palm. He starts at the first bush: using his fingers he brushes the leaves aside to reveal the red berries hiding underneath. One is still green and two unripe to harvest, the other is slightly pink but already as large as the end of his thumb. Simon scrunches his nose. He could harvest the pink one, but it would likely taste super sour. Then again, Ryland always laments eating the last of his sour Skittles. Simon ponders for a moment until he senses a tall presence behind him. Too late to react, Simon has no choice but to succumb to the long, lanky arms wrapping around his waist and the weight pressing into his back. The sweet strawberry smell mixes with his personal favorite aroma of old books, hot cocoa, and rain.
“So this was what you were hiding from me,” the doctor purred. Simon feels the rough chin hairs brush against his forehead as the man behind him rests his head on Simon’s. The curve of the man’s chin and neck sets perfectly on Simon’s scalp, as if carved for that purpose.
Simon grins as he swats away the wandering hand that hovered above the bushes. “They’re not ready, genius.”
”Awwwwwww,” the grown man behind him whines into his braided hair, “but they smell so damn GOOD!!!”
”They’re not ripe yet.”
”But I can smell them during class!!”
“They’ll ripen faster if you complain louder.”
”Just one,” the hand returns to the bushes. Simon sighs and, after softly batting it away, brushes past a few leaves to find one strawberry he saw earlier that was definitely ripe. He plucks it and holds it carefully in his palm; it’s ruddy, plump, and quarter the size of his palm. After it passes its inspection, Simon holds it up for Ryland to grab. He swears he feels Ryland bounce on his heels like a kid when he excitedly snatches the fruit from Simon’s fingers. With Ryland’s arms no longer around his waist, Simon turns to face his husband and his new prize.
As always, Ryland appears almost celestial to Simon’s vision. It doesn’t help that the golden light refracting from the translucent walls of the greenhouse bounce off his husband’s dirty blonde hair like a transcendent halo. The halo extends to the golden rim of his eyeglasses, the copper-colored beads that trail from their rims to the chain wrapping around his freckled neck. Accompanying the copper chain is a leather necklace with a large, translucent pendant that never fails to bring a smile to Simon’s face: the seed of the Last Tree. He’ll never forget the night he gifted it to Ryland: the blonde man stuttered to no tomorrow and refused at first, which initially irritated Simon. He remembers Ryland’s face when he explained that yes, he doesn’t want to see the seed fall into anyone’s hands but his own for protection, but he saw Ryland as an extension of himself with a heart more pure, more innocent than his. And plus two arms are better to protect it than just one. That man’s face glowed just as much as it does now while chewing happily at this giant strawberry. His azure eyes twinkle with boyish excitement.
”SHIMON,” he exclaims while still chewing, “SHIS IS SHO GOOD!!!!!” He picks off the leaves from the remaining half of the berry and presents it to Simon. Simon looks at him confused until Ryland motions hand to him again.
He swallows the rest of the berry he’s chewing. “Come on,” he motions for Simon again, “literally taste the fruits of your labor.” Simon playfully rolls his eyes and grabs the other half of the strawberry. He’s not really one for sweets, but the taste that enters his mouth in that bite sends euphoria throughout his entire being. A wave of the sweet, tangy sensation travels from his teeth to his very core. Before he realizes, the entire berry is gone.
“Ah, there’s that smile I married,” Ryland reminisces under his breath. Suddenly a wave of heat rushes to Simon’s cheeks and he stares at his gardening shoes. This man knows every formula to undo him. Unfortunately Ryland’s hand caresses his cheek before he can escape. Ocean-blue irises welcome Simon as he returns to look at his face once again.
Simon sees something else in them, something other than the usual warmth and calm nature he always sees when they have private moments like this: hurt. Simon feels a small swell of panic; did he do something wrong? Did he say something wrong? What happened to make this beautiful soul look so sad?
“Angel,” Simon calls as he rubs Ryland’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
”Ah-“ Ryland starts before wiping his eyes with the end of his shirt sleeve. “You know better than to ask that, babe.” He sniffs, and full tears stream down his cheeks in seconds.
Simon doesn’t respond, he simply waits and continues brushing his right hand up and down his husband’s shoulder. He rests his mechanical hand on his partner’s waist as if to remind him he’s there to hold Ryland steady.
”G-gosh,” Ryland works out between sobs, “and I came here to check on you to ask wh-why you’ve been so s-sad. Some emotional rock I am.”
“The best,” Simon coo’d. That gets a little giggle out of Ryland in between sniffles. “I’ve been sad?”
”Y-yeah!” Ryland sniffs and clears his throat. “I mean, yes. I’ve noticed recently you’ve been in this greenhouse for longer and longer every day to the point where I almost never see you all day…” He shuffles his feet. “…until we’re in bed.”
The heat returns to his cheeks. Ah, yes. Simon agrees as he recalls the past few days. All their daily conversations have been reduced to short “Good morning’s” and playful banter at night that lead to bedtime fun. Only superficial, brief moments that Simon was happy with as he drowns himself into his gardening work, which he now realizes has been an excuse to be alone with his thoughts that have been plaquing him for the past few months.
Thoughts that he tried to keep away from Ryland for fear of this exact moment happening: his husband crying in front of him. Simon’s heart breaks as he begins to realize how keeping himself away without explanation is what’s hurting his darling just as much as telling the truth.
“You have no idea how brave you are,” Simon remarks as he smiles, “you really don’t.”
”Shut up,” Ryland sniffs.
Simon grabs a clean towel from his apron and wipes Ryland’s face of snot and tears. Ryland takes off his glasses to let him wipe his eyes. Simon revels at the cute smile-lines framing his face as he-
Suddenly a siren roars from the back of his head so loud that it sends him to his knees. He grips the sides of his head in agony, crying at the top of his lungs despite the roar drowning out his voice. He hears a constant chant, eerily similar to the voices he heard nearly a lifetime ago:
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
LOVE BEAR
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NO ONE ELSE
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
NEED BEAR
LOVE BEAR-
“WHO THE FUCK IS ‘BEAR?’” Simon shrieks. No answer, but he sees his husband’s sneakers, then hands and knees, and then face before him. Ryland’s horrified face is just like when he first appeared aboard the Hail Mary. His mouth is moving, but Simon can’t hear him; this dumb fucking chant is too loud.
Seasoned with pushing back against hallucinations, Simon steels himself against the massive wave of invasive chanting. It’s been a while, but with the help of Grace, Rocky, and the world of Eridian support he’s been able to withstand the effects of the Blood Ocean with a ground sense of sanity. As he gathers himself, Simon feels the chanting weaken against his hold.
However, there’s something else he doesn’t recognize from his nightmares: like a flickering candlelight in a dark tunnel, another voice cries out to be heard. Too infantile to form words, it only feels around like a baby learning to walk. Holding against the wave of the intrusive web, Simon reaches out to the weak presence.
“You can do it,” he sends out. “Go ahead.” As he gets closer to it, he suddenly finds it familiar. Very familiar.
The small candlelight pushes against the web further - as the one in front it’s the only one who can break through the ancient web. Simon stands back and sends it as much support as it needs. In a burst of rage, the light enflames into a roaring blaze and burns away the rest of the web. Simon sees another vision: a boy trying to ask this blazing light if she’s in need of help.
He doesn’t know why, but he hates this guy. The light hates this guy’s guts REALLY bad, and she only has one thing to say to him. Simon gladly complies.
”FUCK OFF!” He yells with the light’s voice in a joined harmony. Some of the ancient souls from the Blood Ocean joined as well. Glad to have a supportive network.
Simon’s triumph fades quickly when his normal vision returns and sees his concerned husband crouching over him in shock.
“I’m… s-sorry?” Ryland stutters.