Trouble In The Dreamworld

by Laura_the_Ghostie

Summary:

Prequel to The Night Belongs To You
The backstory on how II, III, and IV met each other.

Chapter 1

IV walks up the steps, carrying his few measly duffel bags with essentials. He takes the key out of his pockets and unlocks the door for the first time. 

 

The place isn't fancy, but it's big- three bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. He could never afford it on his own, so he found two roommates to split the rent- Dylan and Oliver. 

 

Dylan seemed nice enough. He'd only hung around him a few times before, but they got along well. He was good friends with Oliver. Oliver… Well, everyone liked Oliver, IV included. He found himself being pulled to him whenever they crossed paths in town, at the college or local shows at his favorite venue, CiCi's. 

IV would be lying if he said that he wasn't slightly infatuated with him. They even had a moment together one night, after a few drinks at CiCi's, where IV found himself kissing Oliver in the shadows by the bar. 

So, when IV was looking for roommates and overheard Oliver saying that he needed a new place to live, IV jumped on the opportunity, offering a room to him. 

It seemed like a perfect solution. 

Now, he could afford this place, which he needed because it was closer to the college, and he could spend more time with Oliver. Two birds, one stone. 

 

He walks up the stairs to the apartment, wondering if anyone was here yet or if he was the first to arrive. It was early still, the first of the month, and IV had a lot of unpacking to do. He brought some clothes, his toothbrush, his laptop, but not much else. A moving truck would arrive shortly with his bed and dresser and larger items. He was looking forward to at least having his guitar back in his possession. It felt strange, not having it with him. 

 

He sits cross-legged on the floor, opening his laptop and looking at his class schedule for the millionth time. Soon, the others would arrive and the house wouldn't be so eerie and quiet. 

He smiles at the thought of them all sharing the house. They all got along, all liked music, and all were attending the same college. 

This is going to be great, he thinks. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 2: Two

Summary:

Intro to III

III

 

He's looking down at the food as he sits in the church. It looks gross, but he's had worse. At least there's some vegetables and meat this time. 

He shakes that thought away. He should be grateful- not complaining, he thinks. What kind of asshole complains about a free church meal? Fuck!

He goes back to his food, poking it around his plate before taking a bite. 

Where should he sleep tonight? The park is crowded, the woods in the center of town is home to an unruly crowd… He’d have to find a more secretive spot. 

Luckily, the weather is still nice. It's almost autumn now, not yet too cold and the rain has been holding off lately. 

He sneaks looks at the other people that are in line for food. Some look far worse off than him, and some look like they have time-shares in faraway places. There's really no one-size-fits-all type here. He is grateful for that. Sometimes he feels guilty for taking the free food, since this is the outcome of his choices, rather than a result of bad luck or a roughly dealt hand in life. 

He simply just wanted to explore, to wander around until something, someplace, called to him. 

So, after high school, he packed his backpack and set off. Nothing was waiting for him at home anyways. His town was declining, he was “ too much” for his parents to handle, and his friends- if he could really even call them that- all set off on their own adventures. 

So, he hopped on a freight train and leapt off of it hundreds of miles away. The trains weren't his favorite- they were dangerous and loud and you had to hide from the railroad workers. He even had to buy a special blanket to hide his body heat from their thermal cameras that they used to check for people catching a free ride. 

Usually, he would just hitchhike. He could strike up conversations with strangers and not have to worry about losing his legs at the end of the lift. 

It was far easier, although sometimes nobody would pick him up for days at a time- especially if he was in a shitty town full of rich assholes. He tried to avoid those places now. 

Nothing good ever came from them, and he always ended up in trouble. 

Tomorrow he's leaving this town , he thinks, as he swallows a bland piece of chicken. It's run its course, just as every town before it. 

He still hasn't found the place he is supposed to be, but he knows he will. One of these places is bound to have an appeal. 

Hopefully it won't take too much longer to find. It's only been a few months of this, and he is tired already- physically and mentally. How do people live like this? 

Temporarily, it is fine. But this is not his end goal. 

He's seen some amazing sights from the train cars and the free lifts he's gotten. But he's had many negative experiences too. He's ended up in fights more than once, over the most unserious issues usually- like flying a sign in “ someone else's spot” or not wanting to share his food and beer with complete strangers. 

He tends to only stay in a specific town for a week or so now, to avoid these conflicts, before he moves on. 

This town has run its course , he thinks again. 

He finishes his food, throwing the container in the trash and grabbing his pack. It's still early enough, he should be able to find a hidden spot somewhere. 

He walks and walks until he sees it- a gazebo on the edge of a school courtyard. This will be perfect, he thinks. 

He unrolls his sleeping bag and sets up his temporary bed. At least here, he won't have to worry about rain. He just has to worry about pissing off the locals or the authorities 

But, he'll sleep soundly tonight. Hopefully. 

 

Notes:

I'm going to do one short chapter from each character to start- and then they will get longer, i swear.
I'm just waiting for II to tell me his backstory but he is being STUBBORN! 😂

*I'll also update the tags and stuff soon :)

Chapter 3: Three

Summary:

Intro to II

II:

 

He sits in the office, waiting. He's perched on the crinkly paper covering the sterile bed, swinging his legs. Swinging, swinging…

He tries not to look at his phone. It's technically ”not allowed” in the office, according to the poster pinned to the wall. 

But, he's too stressed out, too overtired to really care. He glances at his notifications, busying his mind while he waits. 

He's tried to ignore it, but he can't any longer. He's sadly realized that he can't sleep anymore. The nights are now just spent tossing and turning in frustration until the sun comes up. Hopefully this visit will help. 

“I'm going to prescribe you a sleep-aid,” says the doctor, as he re-enters the room. “I think this, with a combination of trying to expel some of your energy, will help,” the doctor continues. 

In his head, he's thinking yeah, right. But he says “Yeah, okay,” instead. “How should I do that?”

“Maybe join a gym, or find hobbies that interest you and tire you out.”

“So… reading probably wouldn't be on that list, huh?” He tries to joke. 

The doctor gives him a forced smile. “Unfortunately, no. Think of other things, like running or hiking, swimming, biking, doing a physical craft, playing an instrument…”

“An instrument?” II asks, cutting him off. 

“Yes. Playing some instruments, cello for example, takes a surprising amount of strength and energy. It'll be sure to tire you out.”

He immediately thinks back to his thoughts over the last few weeks. He's had a sudden interest in watching people play the drums on his phone. Maybe he could try that?

He thanks the doctor, leaving and taking the prescription to his pharmacy nearby, waiting for it to be filled. 

Fifteen minutes. 

He strolls the aisles aimlessly, looking at overpriced products, until he hears his name called. 

He leaves, bag of pills in hand, hoping that this will be the miracle cure to solve all of his problems.

He somehow already knows that it won't be. 

 

Notes:

Longer chapters coming soon 🖤

Chapter 4: Four

Summary:

IV adjusts to his new apartment & class schedule
III continues on to a new town.
II tries out his new sleeping aid.

 

IV: 

 

The first few nights at the apartment go well. 

Everyone is excited, unpacking their belongings and setting up their new rooms. 

It's now their third night here. Dylan orders a pizza for them all to split, which was unexpected and very kind. IV had basically sunk all of his money into this place, so he was expecting to live off of canned tuna from the food pantry for a while. 

They had an outdated TV in the living room- no cable or anything, but a DVD player and a few sets of DVDs to watch.

And only scarce furniture. No couch, but a giant bean bag chair and another separate armchair. 

Dylan is eating pizza in the armchair, while IV happily devours his slice on the bean bag. 

After a while, Oliver comes into the room and plops down next to IV. They are sitting close, arms practically touching. IV tries to ignore it, to focus on the pizza in his hand, but it's challenging. 

IV finishes his slice and sets his paper plate on the floor, watching as Oliver mimics his actions moments later. 

Dylan stands and stretches his arms above his head, “I'm calling it. Early night for me, class in the morning…”

IV and Oliver both give him nods of understanding. 

“Goodnight,” IV says. “Thanks for the pizza.”

Dylan gives a hand gesture that says don't mention it. And then he walks down the hallway and disappears into his room. 

IV is suddenly more aware of Oliver sitting next to him. The room feels too quiet now, the TV not loud enough. He thinks he can hear his own heartbeat. 

He slowly turns to face Oliver. 

“So, do you like the place?”

He smiles back. “Yes. It's perfect. A good part of town, roomy, and… well, I'll get to see you everyday.”

IV feels his face physically warm. He awkwardly rubs his cheeks with the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. 

“You don't mean that…”

“Of course I do,” Oliver says, reaching a hand out and placing it on IV's thigh. “Why wouldn't I mean that?”

IV tries to think of a response. “It's just… You're you . Everyone likes you. I'm just a nobody.”

Oliver places a finger against IV's lips. “Nuh uh, not to me.”

IV's eyes light up. When Oliver removes his finger he mutters, “I'm glad you said yes.”

“I'm glad you offered.”

IV stares at Oliver for a moment, contemplating his next move for far too long. Luckily, Oliver decides it for him. 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to IV's and placing a hand behind his head. 

When he pulls away, Oliver speaks quietly. “Stay in my room tonight?”

“Okay,” IV replies, not even thinking for a moment. In the back of his head, he hears a voice of reason arguing. Staying in your roommate's bed is probably not a good idea. 

But right now, he doesn't care. He just wants to be with Oliver. 

IV throws away the paper plates and goes to brush his teeth. Oliver follows him into the bathroom and brushes his too, giving him a cheeky smile in the mirror which makes IV laugh. 

When they finish, IV trails him to his room. It's the first time he's seen it. It's dim, only lit by a small lamp in the corner and some LED strip lights bordering the walls. There's some art pinned up here and there and some empty liquor bottles set on a shelf, a guitar and amp on the floor, and a large stereo system. 

“Your room looks nice, nicer than mine,” IV comments, trying to break the tension somehow.

Oliver shrugs. “I need to get a few more things.” He goes over to the stereo and puts a CD on. It's not anything IV recognizes but it's not bad. IV is busy examining the art on the wall, until Oliver tugs on his arm, pulling him towards the bed. He's smiling again- the same smile that IV melted over the first time he saw him at CiCi's.

Oliver sits down and then pulls IV so that he's sitting next to him, cross-legged and close.

IV's heart is racing again. 

Oliver tugs on one of IV's many layers, “Why do you wear all this?”

IV immediately feels embarrassed. “I don't know, it's comfortable…”

“Seems like you're trying to hide yourself,” Oliver comments. “You shouldn't do that.”

IV is embarrassed about this topic, wanting to change it as soon as possible. 

“Sometimes it's true,” IV admits. “I wanna blend in, not be noticed.”

“You shouldn't do that,” He repeats. 

IV gives him a sheepish smile, trying to will the awkwardness away. 

“What's it to you?” IV questions. 

“I don't like seeing you hiding.”

IV smiles, fully this time. “Stop it.”

Oliver laughs, “No, it's true.”

IV pulls one of his many layers over his head. “Happy now?”

Oliver laughs again. “No, but you're on the right trail.”

The undertones in his voice make it obvious at what he's hinting at. Again, the voice in the back of IV's head is screaming at him. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea, bad…

IV doesn't listen to it. 

He pulls another layer off. 

IV didn't know what he was expecting really, but he surely didn't expect to wake up in Oliver's bed the next morning and have him already be gone.

Fuck , he thinks. Last night was a mistake... Not to him, to him it was everything, but clearly Oliver doesn't feel the same. 

IV sits up and looks around. After a moment, he sighs, and then collects his clothes off of the floor item by item, dressing himself enough to walk to the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, he notices his eyes. They look sad. He tries to think of something else but it doesn't work. 

Stop being a baby. People hook up all the time and nothing comes of it. It's normal.

But he really wishes that wasn't the case here. 

Maybe he just had an early class, he thinks. But he couldn't even wake him up to say goodbye? 

Maybe he's thinking about this all wrong. 

Or perhaps he just wanted to let him sleep. That would've been a nice gesture…

He steps into the shower, willing himself to drop it. He won't find the answers no matter how much he worries, so what's the point?

He'll just have to wait until he sees him again, and figure it out then. 

Eventually, he thinks of other things,  until he's scrubbing his body down and notices little bruises on his hips and thighs. 

He groans, running his fingers over the bruises and thinking back to last night. 

He's not surprised they are there, Oliver was rough, but IV asked him for it. And he liked it, mostly. A couple memories from the night before come flooding back… IV having to get himself off after Oliver had finished, and Oliver only kissing him when IV initiated it. Yeah , that could've been better, but overall, he liked it.  

He steps out of the shower and returns to his room. The house is strangely quiet again, slightly creepy. IV packs up his backpack and heads to class before he can overthink anything more. 

 

It's a short walk to the college, and then he has English followed by a music lesson. Guitar lessons were surprisingly on the list of music classes, so he signed up without hesitation. And the school provides the instruments, so he won't have to lug his personal guitar back and forth thankfully. 

English goes okay, a little boring but not bad. But his music lesson goes very well. The teacher was nice and complimented him on his previous knowledge and current skill level. They are one-on-one lessons in tiny studio rooms, so IV is happy that his teacher was someone he could get along with. 

“You're gonna go far, kid,” the teacher, Liam, says, chuckling a little at the Offspring reference. 

IV laughs too, but is actually flattered at the complement.

“I really hope so.”

Liam gives him a big smile. “Just work on what I mentioned. I'll see you next week.”

IV nods, placing the guitar back in its stand. “See you then.”

 

When IV gets back home, he's expecting Dylan and Oliver to be eating or watching something from their shitty DVD collection. 

But that's not the case at all. 

Instead, music is blaring from Oliver's stereo and there's about fifteen people in the house that he's never met before. 

IV awkwardly walks through the crowd until he can reach his bedroom. He sets his bag down and goes back to the kitchen to make dinner. Pasta and sauce, as plain as it could be. 

He cooks, occasionally interrupted by a drunk girl here and there fishing through the fridge for another drink. 

What he really wants is to speak with Oliver. But that won't happen with the crowd that's here tonight. 

He mostly keeps to himself, cooking and plating his food quietly, before sneaking to his room as if he was never there. 

He eats on his bed, watching videos on his phone. He can barely hear it over the loud music and chaos coming from the rest of the house. 

He waits up, hoping that eventually people will start leaving and he can talk to Oliver. The hours go by and nobody has left. The music is still vibrating his walls, and he can hear everyone talking and laughing. 

He looks at the clock and it's nearly two a.m. . Nope, it will have to wait until tomorrow. 

He turns off his light and crawls under his covers. He lays awake for a long, long while, all of the noise keeping him up. Hopefully this is just a housewarming party, not a regular thing , he thinks, right before he finally falls asleep. 

 

In the morning, he opens his bedroom door and peeks his head down the hallway. He can see random limbs hanging off the bean bag chair, so at least a couple people from the night before crashed in their living room for the night. 

He quietly walks to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. 

He's tired. He maybe got four or five hours of sleep, but he needs more than that to function normally. 

Ugh, his eyes… Looking in the mirror, they look even worse than the day before, now accompanied by dark circles. 

He rubs them like that will help. He'll just go to bed early tonight and catch up on his sleep, he tells himself.

He hears some quiet talking coming from the rest of the house, so it seems like the others are waking up.

He grabs his stuff and leaves the bathroom, nearly colliding with a short, blonde girl as she exits Oliver's room wearing only one of his t-shirts and her underwear. 

“Sorry,” he says, walking around her. 

She just laughs and gives him a smile. 

He goes to his room, avoiding looking at Oliver's open door. He sits on his bed for a minute, just thinking. He doesn't have class today, but he doesn't want to be here right now. 

Maybe he'll just go for a walk. Yeah, that sounds nice. 

He throws together a backpack and goes back to the kitchen to grab his water bottle. Oliver's door is still slightly open and he can see that girl climbing back into his bed…

He looks away, and leaves the house before he can see anything else. 

III:

 

He ends up waking early the next morning. He thinks he hears someone approaching him while he sleeps, but he opens his eyes and sees that it is only early-birds walking their dogs nearby. 

He rolls up his sleeping bag and attaches it to the bottom of his pack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he looks down at where he slept to double-check that he isn't forgetting anything. When he's sure he's not, he starts walking towards the nearest gas station to hopefully buy the cheapest cup of coffee they have. 

He counts the loose coins in his pocket and smiles to himself when he realizes he has enough. 

Coffee in hand, he sits down outside at a bench and debates his next move. 

It's getting colder, slowly, but eventually the weather here is going to make sleeping outside difficult.

He's pretty far North, so he plans to head South. There's some cities down there he's been wanting to check out anyways. 

Maybe one of them will be good enough to stay in. 

He starts walking once his coffee is finished. When he sees the highway on-ramps, he goes to the side and sets his pack in the grass. He scribbles on a piece of cardboard, “ South please :)” 

After an hour or so, a lady in a minivan pulls over and he jumps up, making his way to the rolled down window. 

“I'm only going two hours or so,” She says. 

“That will work. Thank you. Can I throw this in the back?” He gestures to his pack. 

She nods and after he puts it in the back, goes to sit next to her in the passenger seat. 

“So,” She says, after merging back onto the ramp and getting on the highway. “What's your story?”

III laughs. “My story? Don't really got one, not yet.”

She chuckles. “Well, you don't see many people still hitchhiking these days, so you've gotta have some type of story.”

He shrugs. “I don't know. Just didn't feel right at home, so now I'm exploring until I find a new one.”

“So you're looking to settle down?”

“Eventually, yeah. Hopefully before it gets too cold.”

“Makes sense why you're going South,” She comments. 

III nods. 

“Where'd you start?”

He tells her the name of his hometown. 

She dramatically whistles, “You've really gone some miles.”

“Couldn't have done it without people like you.”

“I usually don't pick up strangers, but you looked different from the usual type I see out there.”

“How so?” He asks, “Is it the long legs?”

She erupts into a fit of laughter. “Well, that too. But no, I meant that you don't look like you're up to no good. You look exactly like your story- just someone trying to find the right place to be.”

He thinks about that for a long moment, and their conversation fades out. The silence that follows is not awkward, but comfortable. Sitting in the car makes III realize how tired he still is, and how all these nights of sleeping on the ground aren't doing any favors for his body. 

They talk occasionally for the rest of the ride, until they pull off the highway and enter a town. She pulls the car over.

“I'm afraid this is as far as I can take you.” 

“No, this is great. Thank you so much.” He gets out and grabs his pack from the back of the car. 

“Stay out of trouble,” She says. “You'll find your place.” She gives him a bright smile and a friendly wave. 

He waves back and watches her drive away for a moment before turning and looking at the road he's on. Where to now? 

II:

 

II takes the medicine as soon as he gets home from the pharmacy. When he sits down to eat, he feels his eyes start to grow heavy. 

The dinner plate is still half full of the food he cooked tonight, but he feels weird, so he makes his way to his bedroom. 

Once he hits the bed, he feels even weirder. Heavy, but comfortable. He couldn't even be bothered to turn off the light or take off his clothes. 

He doesn't even remember falling asleep. 

 

When he finally opens his eyes, he feels awful. His mouth is dry, and his body aches… a familiar ache he used to get when he would sleep too long as a teenager. 

But he hasn't felt that feeling in forever. 

The first thing he realizes is that it's very bright outside, far too bright to be morning still. 

What time is it?

He rolls over to get his phone but it's not on the nightstand like it usually is. 

Did he even take it with him to bed? 

Then he realizes the light is still on. And so are all of  his clothes. 

What the fuck? 

He stumbles out of the bed and into the kitchen. He sees the clock on the oven and does a double-take. 

Three thirty? It can't be that late. 

He grabs his phone, which is almost dead and still sitting next to his half eaten plate of food. 

It is three thirty. Holy fuck. 

He sits at the table for a minute, shocked. 

Well , he thinks, he finally got some sleep. But what the fuck? What was in that pill? Horse tranquilizer? He's not even a heavy sleeper usually, so the fact that he was knocked out for that long kind’ve scares him. 

What if he had somewhere to be that morning? He would've never heard that alarm, he's sure of it. 

He looks at the pamphlet that came with the prescription, debating if he should even bother continuing with it. 

Maybe it's just too strong a dose, he considers. He is relatively small, after all.

After thinking about it for a while, he decides that he will try it again, with half the dose he took last night. And in the meantime, he's going to spend the day looking up local gyms and music stores. He doesn't have a good feeling about the sleeping medicine, and in the long run it wouldn't be a good permanent solution anyways. 

So the doctor was right, he needs to find ways to get rid of his energy. 

Notes:

just know, writing IV with anyone besides II/III/Vess is icky feeling (but it needs to happen for this plot to make sense in my head, i'm sorry)

Chapter 5: Five

Summary:

IV has a dream
III has to stand up for himself
II tries to adapt to his new medication

 

IV:

 

He spends most of the day walking around, but soon that isnt enough of a distraction and he resorts to the outskirts of town, where you could hike into the woods instead of just roaming the streets.

He tries not to get sad, but it's hard. So hard. But what did he think would happen? He barely knows him…

Of course he would be like that, bedding one person one night and then moving to the next a night later…

Everyone loves him, he said it himself. 

He expected it, but he wasn't prepared to witness it firsthand. Seeing that girl this morning, going back and forth to Oliver's room, hardly dressed, broke something in him. 

Okay, so no more of that, he tells himself. They're just roommates from here on out. 

Sure. Easy. 

He'll just forget every imaginary scenario he dreamt up that involved the two of them over the last few months. 

He's at the tower, looking out over the town below. 

After he sorts his thoughts, he hikes back down towards the apartment. 

As he's attempting to unlock the door, he realizes it's already unlocked. 

Not a good sign. 

When he enters the apartment, it's a cloud of smoke and a myriad of voices. 

He walks to the living room and sees Oliver surrounded by a group of people. Some he recognizes from the night before, but some are new faces. 

“Hey,” Oliver smiles, addressing him for the first time since they spent the night together. He's passing a joint around in a circle with his friends. 

“Hey,” IV awkwardly replies. He gives a small wave to the room of new faces. 

Oliver introduces him to the crowd of people, but IV immediately forgets all of their names. 

Everyone smiles at him, but the smiles don't look genuine. They look more like sympathy or pity smiles. 

He tries not to think about that too deeply. 

IV excuses himself, going to the kitchen to refill his water bottle. A moment later, Oliver is beside him. 

“Did you have a nice day?” He asks. 

IV shrugs, suddenly nervous they're alone together again. “It was okay, I hiked to the tower.”

“What tower?” 

IV explains where he went. 

“That sounds nice. Will you take me there sometime? I've never been.”

IV looks at his face. He looks curious and genuine at this moment. “Yeah, sure.” 

Oliver smiles wider, touching IV's arm. “Cool. I'd like to spend more time with you…”

IV frowns and then tries to make a neutral face before he replies. “Doesn't really seem like it…” It comes out sassier than he intended. 

Oliver makes the first unhappy face he's seen. “Why do you say that?”

IV awkwardly laughs, gesturing to the people in the living room. “You didn't seem to wanna spend time with me yesterday.”

Oliver suddenly looks like he understands what IV is saying. “You're upset.”

IV crosses his arms, “No… What reason would I have to be upset? We fucked and that's that I guess.” His attitude is not masked.

Oliver looks even more unhappy now. 

He steps forward, backing IV into the fridge. IV's suddenly aware of their height difference, feeling small. 

“Look,” Oliver starts, “maybe we should've had this conversation first… But I like you, okay? But, I like other people too. And I'm not looking to settle down with anyone right now.”

IV doesn't like what he's hearing. It's his Oliver he's talking to, he doesn't want to share him. 

“Okay,” IV says, simply. “Glad we cleared that up.” He mutters the end, but his attitude is still very prevalent. 

He skirts around Oliver, walking to his room and slamming the door like a moody teenager, before he can hear anything else Oliver has to say. 

IV lays in bed, again listening to muted music coming from Oliver's room.  

He tries not to think about it,  but he absentmindedly wonders, thinking back to the room of faces, which one Oliver was going to pick for the night. 

 

Oliver does pick someone. And it's obvious. So obvious, that IV ends up placing a pillow over the vent in his room. The sound was traveling between their rooms, and IV was going insane listening to Oliver fucking some new girl. 

He's starting to resent him, already. 

But no, he still likes him.

How can both be possible at once? 

IV doesn't know where his mind is at; but clearly he's losing all sense of reality. 

Just go to bed, he tells himself. He's tired and not making any sense. 

And he tries, but there's still a chorus of voices echoing throughout the house, still the smell of smoke… 

He doesn't know how many people are still lingering, but Oliver clearly isn't kicking them out, and neither is IV. He's already the outsider here, he doesn't need to give anyone even more of a reason to dislike him. 

He just closes his eyes and tries to sleep. 

 

He's not sure where he is, but he just knows- he likes this place. 

It's small and cozy and there's instruments strewn about everywhere. He's calmly strumming his guitar, but he's not alone. There's someone else in the room with him. 

Only he can't make them out. They're just a blurry shadow, an apparition, or a ghostly figure with a beautiful voice. 

He hears the words, but instantly forgets them… It's almost as if he can see them vanish as they float past his ears. 

But it's a lovely song. 

A lovely song in a lovely place with a lovely person. 

A person he wishes he could see. 

He wants to stay here.

 

IV startles awake as his alarm goes off, waking him so that he isn't late for class. 

He sits up. He's still tired, but less so than the day before.

And then he recalls his dream. 

He squints his eyebrows, as if focusing harder will make him remember it more clearly. 

Everything comes back to him, except for that other person in the room, the one singing. 

Thinking back, IV isn't sure he ever even saw the person to begin with. It seemed unfocused or foggy. How can a dream be censored? Everything else was clear. 

He wishes he could remember the song, but that too is now a mystery. He just remembers loving it, and feeling happy…

Happier than he is in real life. 

He shakes his head to himself. Suck it up, things aren't so bad. School is going good, and… and…

And that's it. 

The thought frustrates him. 

He goes to the bathroom to start his day. As expected, there's still some stragglers from the night before, passed out in the living room. Oliver's door is shut, and so is Dylan's. 

IV hops in the shower, trying to be quick in case someone needs to use the bathroom. 

Then he decides to make breakfast, since he's ready a bit earlier than he needs to be. He cooks some eggs and Canadian bacon and throws some cheese on it. 

As he's plating the food, Dylan comes into the kitchen. 

“Hey.”

“Good morning,” IV says. 

“Breakfast? Looks good.”

IV shrugs. “I only made enough for me but you're welcome to use the eggs and stuff if you want.”

“That's okay, I got plans to go out this morning, but thanks.”

IV smiles at him. 

Dylan gives him a strange look.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… You okay? You've barely left your room in two days. You disappeared.”

IV frowns. “I'm okay.. Just thought things would be different…” He nods towards Oliver's door. 

“Oooh,” Dylan gives him a knowing look now, his face sympathetic. “Good luck. He might be my best friend, but I wouldn't get feelings for him if I were you… just being honest.”

IV frowns again. A little too late for that…

“Yeah, I won't,” He lies. 

Dylan's phone pings and he looks down at it..”I gotta get going, see ya later.” He grabs a water from the fridge before walking around IV.

“See ya.”

 

He makes his way back to his room. He wants to practice some of the guitar lessons his instructor advised. But it's early, and he doesn't want to wake everyone up…

Then, his attitude changes. If they're going to be loud all night, he can be loud in the morning. It's only fair. 

So with this newfound mindset, he plays for the better part of an hour. And to his surprise, not one person comes to complain. He's not sure anyone even woke up. But he's trying not to care, even if they did. It's his apartment too, after all. 

He's very happy about the progress he made too, finally placing the guitar down and smiling to himself when he's finished. 

He passes by Oliver on his way out. He smiles at IV. “Sounds great, your teacher must be impressed.”

IV doesn't know how to take such a compliment, especially from him. He just smiles back and mutters “thanks,” before opening the door and leaving.

 

Just roommates, IV reminds himself. 

 

III: 

 

He goes to the center of town, trying to orient himself. In the process he meets some other travelers- a couple, and a man with a dog.

He hangs out with them for the day, getting to know them all and where they came from and where they're heading. 

One guy, Eric, the one with the dog, seems to be on a similar path as him. 

They end up sticking together for the next few days. 

Eric's dog is a pitbull named Evie that III really likes. She is a sweet dog, although at first glance looks a bit intimidating. 

People gift Eric more money and food because of the dog, III is sure of it. 

It tugged on people's heartstrings when they saw someone who looked homeless and had a pet, even though Evie was the most spoiled and well-fed animal that III knew. 

Most times, Eric had to abandon most of the gifted dog food he'd received just because he couldn't lug it all with him everywhere. 

That's not to say that Eric was a great owner. He wasn't, as III quickly found out. 

He left Evie with III for hours at a time, while he did who-knows-what. 

At first, III didn't mind, but it quickly grew old. 

They were camping closeby to one another, but Eric would hand Evie off to III almost as soon as he awoke. 

III liked Evie, but he also recognized that this wasn't his job. He didn't sign up for this.

After a few days of this, III finally confronts him.

“Eric,” III starts. 

“Yeah?”

“You can't just keep going off, leaving her with me,” III nods to Evie.

“I thought you liked her,” he rebuttals.

“I do, but I'm not her owner. I can't watch her everyday. In fact, I might be leaving soon.”

”Oh, where to?”

III almost didn't wanna say, because he knew Eric would try to tag along. 

“Just… Somewhere else. I don't know yet.”

“Well, maybe we'll come with.”

Fuck, this is exactly what he didn't want.  

When III doesn't comment on that, Eric goes on. “When are you leaving? We can be ready.”

III feels terrible, but he lies. “Probably on Friday. The weather's gonna be better then.”

“Oh, cool, cool.”

The conversation turns relaxed, with them just shooting the shit until it gets dark out and they grow tired, retiring to their own tents and sleeping bags.

III gives Evie all the attention in the world that night. 

And early the next morning, even before sunrise, III packs up his bag and slips quietly past Eric's tent, making his way to the highway and hightailing it out of town. 

 

 

 

II:

 

In the evening, II stares down at the prescription, almost scared to take it. 

He's already eaten a full meal beforehand, in case it hits him quickly again. 

He cuts the pill in half and then swallows it, immediately going to his bedroom and plugging his phone in, setting multiple alarms and turning off the lights around the house. 

He lays down, quickly feeling his eyes growing heavy. 

He doesn't remember falling asleep. 

 

When he wakes, he looks at his phone and notes the several missed alarms.

He groans, back still hurting and hesitant to look at the time. 

He finally looks, seeing that it's just after noon. 

Fuck, it's still too much.

He briefly debates if he can cut the pill into quarters, but throws that idea away. The pills are too small, it would be such a hassle. 

He hates the idea, but decides he needs to make another doctor's appointment. This pill is not working out.

So he calls and schedules one. Luckily, it's only a few days away. 

In the meantime, he debates his next move. Should he keep taking it? Or just not sleep? What's worse, not sleeping at all or sleeping like the dead? 

II decides to think on it, and just go about his day. 

The first thing he does is shower, brush his teeth, and eat… lunch? Although it's breakfast food he cooks. 

Then, he grabs his wallet and keys, leaving his apartment and walking towards his first destination.

He chooses to go to a local gym first, because it seems like the easier task. 

He had looked around town and compared the few gyms they had to one another. He finally decided which one sounded best, and was going there to do the signup paperwork. 

The front desk workers were nice enough, offering to give him a tour as he signed up. But he politely declined and said “maybe next time.”

He had other things he still needed to do. 

He turned in the paperwork and was told that he should be getting an approval letter in the mail within a few days. Then, he could come and go freely, as long as he kept up with his payments. 

Leaving the gym, he felt happy. At least one thing was now crossed off his to-do list. 

The next thing seemed more daunting. 

He approaches the town's music store, not really having thought this through. 

Fuck it, he'll wing it.

He walks inside, instantly overwhelmed by the amount of guitars on the walls, as well as other instruments set up around the store. 

The worker gives him a nod of acknowledgment, but leaves him alone for the most part. 

II walks around, leisurely studying the instruments he passes, and noting the price tags. 

Could be better, could be worse. 

He makes his way to the back of the store, finally finding what he was looking for. 

There's not a ton of options, but there are multiple drum sets lined up in a row.

He doesn't know where to begin really. 

He should've done more research before coming here, he thinks. 

He sits down on the stool behind one of them, looking around at the different symbols and snares. 

He picks up the sticks that have been left on the snare drum, wondering can he try it out? 

He doesn't know the rules of the place. 

As he's sitting there, the worker comes up beside him.

“Go ahead, test it out if you want.”

II feels awkward, having the worker right there and having zero experience. But he does really want to try it. 

He hesitantly taps the snare drum a few times, scared to damage anything really. And then he kicks the bass drum, too lightly. 

The worker smiles at him and then takes a drumstick from him. “Don't be scared, you gotta really bang on it.” He shows II what he means by playing a simple beat on the snare, much louder than II had played. 

He hands the drumstick back. “You won't hurt it, probably.” He laughs. “Try again.”

II tries to mimic the beat that the worker had played, harder and louder this time. 

The worker seems pleased when he stops. “Much better. Are you looking to buy a set?”

II shrugs. “I don't really know what I'm doing. I just like watching people play and thought I'd try it out. I don't know if I should just try for lessons someplace or spend money on a kit. What if I don't like it after all?”

“Then you can just resell it,” the worker says. “Or, you could just come here a few times first, play a bit before you decide.”

“You allow that?”

“Sure. As long as you're not causing a scene or purposefully damaging the equipment, we don't mind.”

II thinks about that. “I don't have the slightest clue what I'm doing…”

“Come back tomorrow. Tomorrow John will be here and drums are more his thing. He could show you some basics.”

II is honestly shocked but excited hearing this. “Really?”

“Yeah, he'll be happy to do something besides dusting off the guitars.”

II finally sets the drumsticks down, “That sounds great, thanks.”

“Who should I tell him to expect?”

“Oh, II.”

The worker laughs, “Well, I've heard weirder. I'm Nate.”

“Nice to meet you,” II says. “Well, I'll be going then but thanks for the help. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

II gives a little wave as he leaves. He's been trying to hide his smile but he's really happy. As soon as he steps outside again he lets out a breath, walking the rest of the way home feeling excited for tomorrow already. 

Things are looking up, he tells himself.

Now he just needs to try to sleep tonight. 

Chapter 6: Six

Summary:

IV deals with conflicting thoughts
III continues looking for where he is meant to be
II makes progress on finding sleep solutions

 

IV:

 

The days pass by, and IV does a pretty good job at avoiding Oliver. 

He obviously can't completely avoid him, since they share a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room.

But, to be honest, IV is pretty proud of how little he's thought of him or worried about what he's doing or wondered what time he'll be home. 

He just goes to class, and then stays to himself when he's home, doing homework or playing his guitar. 

And he's almost gotten used to toning out the loud music and chorus of voices that fill the house every night. 

 

Almost . 

 

He's been having a hard time falling asleep though.

 

IV grabs some groceries on his way home, just enough to fill a backpack. He's starving and looking forward to cooking something nice for himself for once. He bought pork and frozen vegetables and rice- nothing fancy, but a step up from what he's been living off of lately. 

When he gets home, nobody is there, which is highly unusual. 

Even if Dylan or Oliver aren't home, there's usually a few people hanging out there without them now. 

IV walks to the living room, just to double check, but it's empty. 

He looks around at the state of the room and frowns though. This place is a disaster. 

There's empty beer bottles everywhere, ashtrays that are spilling over, and wine stains on the floor. Half eaten bags of chips are on the bean bag, and there's dirty blankets falling off the chair onto the floor. 

He goes back to the kitchen to put his groceries away and groans. The kitchen somehow looks even worse. The sink is overflowing with empty cans and dirty dishes, and the stove has every pan and pot they own piled on it- dirty and unwashed with remnants of old food still left in them.

He's gonna have to do the dishes twice over just to make room to cook. 

He sets his food aside and starts  washing the dishes, filling a trash bag full of recycles in the process. 

Finally, when he can see the counters and the stovetop again, he begins making dinner. 

Once it's done, he debates putting something on the TV to watch, but then he remembers how messy the living room is. He doesn't want to eat in there.  He ends up sitting on his bed, watching videos from his phone screen again instead.

He washes his dishes immediately after he's done eating, not wanting them to start piling up again so soon.

The house is still empty besides him. 

He thinks that everyone is either out for the night, or that he's going to get woken up really late when they do finally get home. 

He doesn't care. 

He's tired, having put himself into a food coma basically. 

He turns off the lights around the house and goes to bed. 

 

He's in a room, decorated similar to his current one but slightly different. 

The items in it are the same, but the layout is different and it's more spacious. 

He is laying on his bed, drawing in a notebook. He's feeling frustrated, looking down at what's on the pages, unsatisfied. 

Suddenly, someone barges into the room unannounced. 

IV looks to them, but they are a mystery- a vague outline of a person, blurry and unfocused, just like his previous dream.

Only this is a different person, he's sure of it somehow.

They aren't singing, and their body shape is slightly taller, slimmer. 

“Take a break, would ya?” The person says. “You're all being so productive today, it's making me feel bad about myself.”

IV laughs. “Okay. Well what do you wanna do?”

“Vess and II are practicing, again . I don't wanna practice today. I wanna be lazy. Watch a movie with me?”

IV smiles and sets his notebook aside. “How about we take a walk first, get some snacks, and then watch a movie?”

The person sighs, “Fine. But I'm picking the movie then.”

IV gets off his bed and walks towards the figure. “No vampires I assume?”

“Fuck off.” But the person isn't serious, and laughs at the comment. “You're such a little shit, I love you.”

IV giggles as he cradles the person's face in his hands, pulling them closer. “I love you too.” And then IV reaches up to kiss them.

 

IV hears a knock, pulling him out of his dream. 

Silence now.

Did he imagine that?

But then he hears it again. 

“Yeah?” His voice is scratchy and tired. 

The door opens slowly, just an inch or two. “IV?”

“Huh?”

“You still up?”

IV recognizes Oliver's voice. “Yeah,” he lies, sitting up straighter. “What's up?”

Oliver walks into the room, going straight to him in the bed. He apparently believes IV's lie, not even noticing that all of the lights are off. 

Oliver sits down on IV's bed, close to him. IV's eyes adjust to the darkness and he makes out Oliver's face. 

“What's up?” IV tries again.

“Nothing,” He mumbles. And then he looks at IV and smiles. “Just missed you lately.”

IV swallows, suddenly unsure of what to do. “Sorry, I've just been busy…”

Oliver hums, “No, I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being an ass… Shouldn't have been with those other people… Should've been with you…”

IV looks at him for a long moment, a little surprised at what he's hearing. “Are you drunk?”

Oliver laughs. “I had some drinks. Nothing crazy.”

IV analyzes him for another moment, trying to figure out if he's being honest. 

He doesn't look drunk… But he doesn't really know him well enough to tell…

“Missed you…” Oliver mumbles again, touching IV's arm. 

IV smiles at this, “I missed you too.”

Oliver gives him a look of adoration, before smiling and then pulling IV close.

Suddenly his lips are on IV's. IV's eyes widen before they fall closed, and he leans into the kiss more. 

IV is ignoring all of the rational voices in his head again, savoring every moment with him, because deep down, he doesn't know if this isn't going to last, as much as he wants it to. 

 

In the morning, Oliver is still wrapped around IV. His alarm wakes him, otherwise he could have slept forever. 

He's still here, IV thinks.

He is happy about that. 

He snoozes his alarm several times just because he doesn't want this to end yet. 

He feels the same way that he felt about that strange dream the other day, he wants to stay here. 

At this, vague memories of the newer dream from last night come flashing back to him.

Who was that person? It wasn't the same person that was singing. 

IV thinks, trying to place the person from his dreams. He knows they were tall, very tall, but that's about it. And he can recall their voice a little. But IV can't think of anyone he knows like that in real life. The person mentioned two names, but IV can't remember what they were now. And he told them he loved them? 

Another mystery. 

Eventually, IV has to leave the bed. He untangles himself from Oliver, waking him in the process. “Sorry,” IV mutters, “I have to get ready for class.”

Oliver looks a little bit confused as he wakes. He takes in IV's room, looking around at it in the daylight for the first time. 

“It's okay,” He says, quietly. “I should get up too.”

IV just nods and heads to the bathroom. Once he's in the shower he hears a door click shut and figures that Oliver has gone back to his own room. He wonders if Dylan is home too or if anyone else slept over last night. He couldn't really tell because he was so… distracted… the night before.

As IV is heading out to class, he catches Oliver in the kitchen making some food. 

He stops what he's doing and goes to IV, pulling him into a warm embrace. “Have a good day, okay?”

“Thanks. You too,” IV says. He pulls away and gives him a smile, before throwing his bag over his shoulder. 

The walk to class that day goes by fast. IV is in his head again, going back and forth between just roommates and maybe this could work after all.

He tries not to hope, since he already got disappointed once, but he can't fake how he feels. He really does still have hope, even if it bites him in the ass in the long run. 

III:

 

III left in such a hurry that he didn't really plan out his route. And wherever he currently was, was not welcoming to hitchhikers. 

He's been trying to hitch a ride out for the last four hours with no luck at all.

The only thing it's got him was people yelling nasty things from their car windows as they pass by, and a handful of pennies thrown at him. 

Must be a rich town, he thinks. 

He picks up the pennies and sighs, grabbing his bag and leaving the grassy spot he's been standing at. 

Plan B, the trainyard. 

III walks for a long time, his feet hurting and his body tired. He's wearing an old pair of combat boots. They're heavy, which tires him out quickly. But they are waterproof, which is more important. 

As he walks, he periodically checks his phone for free wifi. He doesn't have a phone plan at the moment, but he needs to figure out which train goes where. 

He finally passes a charming house and is in luck, unlocked wifi. 

He loads up a website he has saved that tells you the name of the trains and what their routes are. 

He figures out that he needs to get on the GMRC line, which is heading south,  and makes his way to the railyard. 

He scouts out the yard as he's approaching, looking for workers or anyone of authority. The yard looks more relaxed than others. Nobody is around it seems. 

III is still cautious, finding a crowd of bushes and hiding in them for the time being. 

He looks for the GMRC train, spotting it and making a plan. 

He triple ties his boot laces, and zips up all his clothes. He makes sure there's no loose straps or anything hanging off of him or his pack. Nothing that could get caught on the train and potentially get him killed. 

He's heard too many horror stories from other travelers.

Once it starts moving, he'll make a run for it. 

It should happen at 10:00 a.m.

And it does. 

At exactly 10:00 a.m., the train starts slowly rolling forward. 

III quickly looks again for workers, then bolts out of the bushes towards the train. 

He reaches it, but he's running alongside tank cars, and you can't ride those. 

He keeps running until some boxcars start to pass him. One even has an open door. 

This is his chance.

He throws his pack up on the car, before grabbing the metal ladder, hoisting his body up and off of the ground. 

Once he's riding the train, he takes a deep breath, and then shimmies to the side. He enters through the open door and then sits down, sitting on the edge of the train as his legs hang out over the side.

He pulls his pack close to him, using it as a support to lean against. 

Now he waits. 

He's not sure how long it will take to get to the next train yard, but he hopes it's not too long. He didn't properly prepare and has no food with him. And he's already hungry. 

Not to mention it's cold with the boxcar having the open door, and the train is speeding quickly along the tracks. 

And no matter how tired he is, he can't fall asleep until he's off the train. It's dangerous, for one, and also a sure way to get caught. The last thing he needs is a fine for trespassing, and the fine is exceptionally costly if you're caught on railroad property. 

III frowns. When he imagined traveling, he didn't imagine just being tired, hungry, and cold all of the time. 

This next town will be the place , he tells himself. 

Wishful thinking, probably, but he hopes it's true. 

II:

 

II didn't take the medicine that night- wanting to be sure that he would wake up early enough to go back to the music store and meet John. 

He should've asked what time he would be in, but he was feeling a mix of so many emotions he had forgotten. 

Excited, hopeful, tired…

He was still tired actually, no medicine meaning no sleep for him last night.

He had rolled around all night, maybe getting a few minutes in here and there, but nothing solid. Not a normal, healthy amount of sleep. 

II got out of bed when he saw the morning light peeking in his windows. Finally . He was happy to leave the bed, being that it was the home of most of his problems now. 

He makes a pot of coffee and drinks the first cup entirely too fast. He tells himself to slow down as he drinks the second. 

Afterwards, he dresses and gets ready. It's still too early to head to the music store, so he's trying to busy himself. 

He decides to show up around noon, thinking that's probably the time most employees would be there. 

He opens his laptop and loads up YouTube, deciding to look up some beginner techniques and exercises. Maybe he won't look like a complete fool in front of everyone later if he studies a bit first. 

He watches videos of a man explaining single stroke rolls, double stroke rolls, and single paradiddles. 

He finds it interesting enough, his fingers unconsciously tapping along on the table. 

Then he decides to read up on how to read sheet music. He remembers a bit from elementary school, when they forced him to take some piano lessons for a short while. Piano was not his instrument. That went very poorly. 

So he does know a little, but he doesn't know what format is used for drums. 

He looks over a simplified explanation, and it actually doesn't seem that difficult. The different markings for different drums is smart, and helpful. Everything else is practically the same. 

Time signatures, notes, and rests are easy for him to remember still, it all comes back after seeing a few examples. 

He closes his laptop. Maybe he won't be so awful after all. He just hopes it goes better than piano did. 

 

When he returns to the music store, he sees Nate speaking with two others behind the counter. He walks around, pretending to look at some things on the wall, but he's secretly watching them to see when would be a good time to interrupt. 

After a few minutes, Nate walks away from the others, and II goes towards him.

When Nate sees him, he smiles. “You're back! Great. I'll find John.”

He walks away for a minute and then returns with one of the other workers. He's older, with a long gray beard and short hair. 

“This is… what was it? One? Five?”

II awkwardly laughs, “II.”

“Right, sorry. This is John,” Nate moves his hand in a motion that signals an introduction between them. 

“Nice to meet you,” John says. “Nate said you were interested in a drum kit?”

“Maybe. I'm not sure. I've only watched tutorials online. I haven't really tried it yet. Not sure if I should spend the money.”

“I get it.Well I could show you a few things if you have time.”

II eagerly nods, and John leads him back to the side of the store where the drum sets were lined up. 

He motions for II to sit behind a kit, and II does. 

“So what do you know?”

II sighs, trying to think. “Some basic patterns, and how to read music on a beginner level.”

John waits like he's expecting II to go on, so he explains further. 

“I took piano lessons briefly in school, so I can read sheet music okay. I looked up a guide on sheet music for drums and it seemed pretty straightforward. And this morning I watched a stranger on YouTube explain paradiddles and single stroke rolls, double stroke rolls. That's it.”

John laughs a little. “Well, you have a good basis. Can you use a metronome?”

II shrugs. “Never tried.”

“Let's start with that then.”

John sets up a metronome on his phone and instructs II to play a simple drum beat, showing him by example.

II holds the drum sticks, getting ready to attempt to mimic what John played, but John stops him before he even starts. 

“You have to loosen your grip a little,” He points to II's hands. “Don't let them go flying, but you want there to be some rebound.”

II tries altering his grip until John approves, nodding. 

“Okay, now try.”

II does, and it goes surprisingly well. He keeps the correct rhythm and doesn't miss a beat. 

John tries to challenge him further, playing a slightly more difficult beat and then telling II to copy him. 

II does, once again, nearly perfect. 

“You're fucking with me,” John says afterwards. 

“What?”

“You've seriously never played?”

“No. Why?”

John blows out a breath, shaking his head in amusement. “Just get the kit.”

“What?” II isn't following.

“I don't get commissions on these things, so believe me when I say that you're naturally good at this.”

II narrows his eyes, not believing him. “Would Nate agree that you don't earn commissions?”

John laughs hard, “Go ahead and ask him. Be my guest.”

“That's okay. I just don't really believe you.”

“Well, you don't have to. I'm just saying, the number of kids that walk in thinking they'll be good at this is high. The number I actually think will be good at it is low. But you, you could be great at this.”

II thinks for a moment. He technically has enough money to afford a drum kit, but it would dip into his savings quite a bit. His only neighbor is older, pretty deaf, and never home, so that shouldn't really be a problem. And he does need to find a way to burn his energy, desperately, or he fears he might never sleep again. 

II looks back at John. “So what kit do you recommend?”

 

II bought a drum set. 

Nothing too fancy, but a medium grade one according to John. 

John was very helpful, also giving II a list of websites and books that could help him learn more, if he decided not to take lessons and learn independently. 

II would love to take lessons, he's just unsure if he could afford it at the moment. 

But he brought the kit home and cleared a space for it in the living room. Once it was set up, he just stared at it for a while and smiled to himself. 

Maybe this could solve all of his problems. 

He still hadn't slept properly and was waiting eagerly for the morning to come, when he had his next doctor's appointment. 

 

The morning carne slowly. Not fast enough for II, who was ready to get out of bed at 4:00.

Finally around 6:30 he crawled out of his nest of blankets and made his coffee. 

He got ready and was at the doctor's office punctually on time, at exactly 8:30 a.m.

II sits on the table again, swinging his legs, watching the clock tick, and rereading the posters on the wall about “ no cell phone use.”

The doctor enters the room and immediately recognizes him from the previous appointment that wasn't very long ago. 

“So, how did the medicine go?”

“Not well, actually. I stopped taking it.”

He frowns. “What was the problem?”

“I slept, but it knocked me out like the dead. I missed all of my alarms.   There's no way I could function while taking this regularly. I even tried splitting the dose in half, but it was still too much.”

The doctor scribbles some notes on his clipboard before responding. 

“Okay, well, there's plenty of other options. Would you be willing to try a different medication?”

II thinks. Would he? Well, it can't hurt to try.

“Yeah, sure.”

The doctor smiles and begins explaining a different, new medication. 

II is only half listening. 

When the doctor finishes he asks II, “Have you tried any of the other things we talked about? 

“Yeah. I got a gym membership and bought a drum set,” II laughs at how ridiculous and random those two things sound together. 

“Has it been helping?”

II shrugs. “Not sure, I just got it all set up but I haven't done it regularly yet.”

The doctor scribbles some more. 

“Good, good. Keep track of if it helps. And I'm sending the prescription to your pharmacy now.”

II nods, awkwardly looking at the floor and swinging his legs some more. 

“Well, give this a try, say, for at least two weeks. And if it still doesn't help give us a call back, sound good?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Alright. Be well,” the doctor says, as he exits the room and leaves II to grab his things. 

II checks out of the office and then walks back to the pharmacy. 

Fifteen minutes. 

Notes:

Sorry if there are typos, i just really wanted to post this before i went to work today so i didnt reread it as many times as usual

Also, i'm not proficient in drumming lingo, i took lessons briefly in college and it was fun but i was no good at it. Hopefully what i've written still makes some sort of sense in the drumming world lol

Chapter 7: Seven

Summary:

IV is... trying his best ?
III arrives in a new city
II has a dream

IV:

 

IV finds himself distracted during class all day, his mind continually wandering back to the events of the night before. 

Was Oliver drunk? Lying? Or was he being honest? Did he really miss him? 

Ugh…Focus, he tells himself, looking back at his textbook. 

He's anxious to go home though, wondering if he'll be met with allusive Oliver or caring Oliver. 

Why is he so..  back and forth? 

Maybe he's embarrassed by him? IV doesn't like that thought, but it does cross his mind. 

He's definitely not as popular as the rest of the people Oliver surrounds himself with. It could be a possibility.

When he does get home, he can hear a fit of laughter and many voices talking over one another, coming from the living room. 

He peeks his head in, curious to see what the crowd looks like tonight. He sees Dylan chatting with a brunette he doesn't recognize, and Oliver sitting on the floor talking closely to a man he doesn't recognize either. He scans the rest of the people, the blonde girl from the other morning is here, laughing and handing a joint to another girl with longer, red hair. 

IV quickly does a count in his head. Six, no, seven people. He almost didn't see another newcomer in the corner of the room, a guy with bleached hair covered in tattoos. How did he miss him? IV asks himself. 

Dylan notices him first, casting a wave in his direction. 

IV gives an awkward, small wave back. 

Then Oliver notices him, breaking up his conversation with the dark-haired guy he was talking to. 

“Oh, hey!” Oliver smiles, warmly. “Come in, let me introduce you to everyone.”

IV steps into the room a bit more, standing awkwardly since there's nowhere left to sit. 

“This is James,” Oliver nods to the guy he's sitting next to. “James, IV, my other roommate.”

“Hey,” James says, giving IV a smile that borders on flirty. 

Then Oliver tells IV everyone else's names. The blonde girl from the other morning is Amber, and IV doesn't really pay attention to the other people's names.

IV hangs around them all for a little while, trying to be social and participate in their conversations, but he isn't feeling great about this. Oliver and James are sitting too close to each other and Oliver's barely acknowledged him since the introductions… He just wants to go to his room before he sees something he doesn't wanna see. 

He excuses himself and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and heating up a frozen dinner in the microwave. 

He's spacing out, watching the TV dinner spin around and around in the microwave when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder and jumps, startled. 

James laughs, “Sorry, sorry. Can I sneak past ya to get in the fridge?”

IV moves to the side, “Yeah, sure.”

“You coming back to join us?” James asks after grabbing a beer.

“No, I'm tired. I think I'm just gonna eat and go to bed.”

James eyes IV's beer and the cardboard packaging from the TV dinner. “A beer and frozen spaghetti?”

IV shrugs, feeling embarrassed. “Too tired to cook properly.” It's a lie. He doesn't have anything else on hand, and he's actually not tired yet, but he just wants to be alone.

James is smiling at him still, his eyes flickering up and down IV's body which makes IV even more uncomfortable. 

“Well, enjoy your dinner. Hopefully next time you'll hang out with us for longer.”

IV ignores the last thing James says, just mumbling “thanks,” and watches as he leaves to go back to the living room.

Well, that was awkward, IV thinks.

The microwave beeps and he takes his food and beer and barricades himself in his room for the rest of the night, dirty dishes and all.

III:

 

III hops off at the next yard, quickly running into the woods that border the tracks before he can be spotted.

He stretches his back and tries to figure out where exactly he is. 

No nearby wifi though , so he starts walking, hopefully in the direction of town and not away from it. 

He finally comes across a cafe, and sits down in one of their patio chairs outside. He would order a coffee or some food but he unfortunately doesn't have enough change. 

Luckily for him, they do have free wifi. He opens maps and figures out where he's landed. It looks like he's on the outskirts of a small city, one that borders a bay. 

This looks promising, he tells himself. 

The smaller towns have been disappointments so far, maybe a small city would be more fit for him. 

His first mission is to find the nearest church. They'll probably have free food or at least direct him to some place that will if not. 

He locates it on the map, screenshots the route and then leaves the cafe before he is kicked out for loitering. 

As he is nearing the street that the church is on, the buildings start to become more and more clustered, the area more densely populated. He can tell he's getting deeper into the city now. 

He finally arrives at the church, seeing a bulletin board out front and going to read it. 

He's glancing over the many papers pinned to it when he hears someone talk to him. “You here for the meal?”

III turns, seeing an older man with gray hair and a matching gray beard. III nods. 

“Ya just missed it. Ends at 2:30.”

III frowns, looking at his phone. 2:42 .

Damn it.

“The pantry is open though,” the man continues. 

“Pantry?”

“Yup. Free canned goods. You don't need any ID either.”

“Where is it?” III asks. 

The man points to a door on the side of the building. “Just through there.”

III thanks him, giving him a smile and heading towards the door. 

When he enters, he sees a woman sitting at the desk. She's small with dark glasses and long brown hair.  He turns to her, looking unsure of what to do since each one of these places usually has different protocols. 

“Hi. Do I need to sign in or anything?” He asks her.

“No, not unless you want pre-arranged deliveries. Otherwise, you just take what you need based on household size.”

“Oh, okay. It's just me,” he continues. 

She smiles at him, “A single adult can take 16 items per week, plus any vegetables they want, which isn't included.”

His eyes widen. For all of the food pantries he's been to lately, this one seems awfully generous. 

“You new here?” The woman asks. “Haven't seen you before.”

“Yeah,” III nods. “Just got here maybe an hour ago. I haven't even seen the city yet.”

“Oh, you'll love it here. It's a great place to be. Shame you just missed the meal though- we have culinary students cook it, so it's very good usually.” She pauses, digging around on the desk before retrieving a paper and handing it to III. “This is our meal schedule and pantry hours, as well as other resources.”

He scans over the paper, seeing the church events plus organizations that help with housing, counseling, and addiction. At the bottom of the page there are community events listed- like weekly farmers markets, art walks, park activities, and volunteering opportunities. 

He is impressed. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I hope to see you around again. Maybe tomorrow's meal?”

He laughs, “Yeah, I'll probably be here.”

She smiles again, then motions for him to browse the shelves of food. 

He walks around a bit, weighing out his options. He wants things that are filling, but that also won't weigh down his pack too much. 

He grabs some cans of tuna, crackers, peanut butter, cereal, canned beans, canned ham, lettuce, bananas, and some hot sauce packets.

He could get more, but it's starting to get heavy already. This should be good enough for now. 

He brings his choices to the counter, allowing the woman to take count of it before he leaves. 

“That's all? Are you sure? You can take more.”

III nods. “I can't carry too much at once.”

She makes a facial expression that says she understands now. 

“Well, if that's all, then you're all set.” She scribbles something onto the paper in front of her..

“Thank you.” III goes to walk away but she speaks again. “I'm Maisie by the way. And you are?”

“III.”

She smiles, “Nice to meet you, III. I hope you stick around.”

He smiles back at her, thinking, yeah, he hopes he does too. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for your help.”

After, he leaves the church, his pack full of food, and he begins walking towards the center of the city. 

He thinks back about Maisie, how it was an interesting name. Then he laughs to himself. Who is he to judge unusual names? 

But, Maisie seemed cool. She looked a bit older than him, but not by too much. She could be a twenty-something who looked older or a thirty-something who looked younger- it was unclear. 

He's already planned to be back at the church tomorrow for the meal. He wants to try the food, mostly, but he also kind've enjoyed his brief interaction with Maisie. Maybe he could talk with her some more tomorrow. Maybe she could tell him about the city some more.

With that plan set in motion for tomorrow, he continues onward, hoping to explore the city a little and scout out some possible camping locations for tonight. 

II:

 

He might have overdone it. 

His arms are sore as hell, and even his leg he uses to kick his bass drum is a bit achy. 

 

The day after his doctor's appointment, he spent nearly the entirety of it watching videos of drum playthroughs before attempting to copy them. He only took breaks to eat and use the bathroom.

It was fun, really fun, maybe too fun… maybe slightly addicting. 

It's just because it's new, he thinks, he'll probably get tired of it soon enough. 

He hopes that's not true though, but that has happened in the past with other hobbies of his. 

It did tire him out, especially now that his muscles were aching. 

Hopefully he'll sleep really well tonight.  

He had started the new medication. So far, it helped a little, but not too much. He's listening to his doctor though and going to give it two weeks before he makes any conclusions about it. 

At least it didn't turn him into a zombie. He actually heard his alarms go off, although he didn't need them since he was already laying awake. 

So tonight is night two on the new meds. Maybe it'll work better tonight, he thinks, knowing that some medicines take time to work accordingly. 

He shuts off his lights, sets his alarms, and then settles his aching body into his bed. 

Time to find out. 

He's giggling, trying to tear the thing off his face. 

But someone is holding his arms away, laughing with him. 

“Seriously, take it off. It's not right.”

“Why? You look so cute!” The person replies, making his face heat. 

He's looking at the person, but through six eye holes instead of two, and something is covering his face…

He's wearing a mask. 

The person is hazy, foggy, and made up of wavering lines. He can't make out their image, especially through the strange mask. 

“Take it off, Vess.”

“No. I wanna show them first.”

He huffs, rolling his real eyes behind the mask. 

He sees the figure move out of the room, and he stands up to try to follow. He almost trips on fabric that tangles around his ankles. He looks down, confused for a moment, before he realizes it's the bottom of the long cloak he is wearing. 

He grabs it and lifts it so that he won't trip, before going to find the figure that disappeared. 

He walks down a long hallway and into a living room, where he's reunited with the person from before, as well as two others, all shadows and blurs. 

“Awww! Look at you!” One of them coos, going to stand before him. 

He blushes again, harder. “It was his idea…” He mumbles, gesturing to the first person. 

The third figure, who hasn't spoken yet, stands and strolls over to him. He grabs his chin and lifts his face upwards, as if he is inspecting him. “Pint-sized Vessel...  Now I've seen it all,” and then he laughs, pressing a kiss to his masked forehead before backing away. 

The first person reappears before him. “.... told you they'd like it.”

He tilts his head at them, “I feel ridiculous…,” He grumbles, barely audible.

The person laughs again, “Well, how do you think I feel every night?!”

Then he laughs too. 

 

II blinks awake, instinctively looking at the clock.. It's nearly six a.m. He's relieved to see that. His days of waking up around three or four were starting to catch up to him. 

He goes into the kitchen, turning the coffee pot on before sitting down and waiting for it to brew.

He thinks about the previous night. 

The medicine seemed to help a bit. 

And then the strange dream comes back to him. 

Who were those people? And why was he wearing a mask and a cloak? One of them kissed him…

He grabs the pill container, rolling it between his fingers until he can read the side effects label. 

Maybe the strange dream was just from the meds…

He doesn't see anything about dreams on the label though. Only things like dry mouth, headaches, blurred vision, increased or decreased heart rate.

Well, blurred vision is almost close…

Why were they so unfocused? 

He's never had a dream like that before. 

And the feeling was different too. It felt less like a strange fantasy and more like an alternate reality- one that may have happened or will happen or could happen. 

He can still hear their voices and feel their hands… he just wishes he could've seen them clearly. 

The fact that he couldn't bothers him more than things usually would. 

And what the hell did that person mean by a “pint sized Vessel?”

 

 

Notes:

There is a fanart that i think subconsciously inspired that last dream scene with II - i actually bought a print of it have it hanging on my wall - I would tag their insta or something but i don't know if certain fan-artists wanna be associated with fanfic / ao3 ????
im probably overthinking it. lol. maybe ill just post a photo of my ST wall on tumblr later.

Thank you to everyone who reads!

Chapter 8: Eight

Summary:

IV talks to Oliver about the situation at the apt.
III explores the new city some more.
II has a dream

 

IV: 

 

As the days go on, IV does his best to try to avoid Oliver, again . 

But, things at the apartment have been progressing. 

And not in a positive way. 

 

The crowds have been getting larger, sketchier. IV is a bit scared of some of the people who have been hanging around lately. There's been some notorious locals, known for getting into trouble and being involved in things that IV doesn't want any part of.

He didn't know the full extent of what they were doing, but he knew it was more than just weed and alcohol, although that was often thrown into the mix too. 

Everyone liked Oliver, which meant everyone basically gave him anything he wanted for free, just to be able to hang around and feel like they were in his inner circle. 

 

Sometimes, he would try to talk to Oliver and would be met with confusion, before IV realized he was on something. 

One day, IV realized someone had broken the bathroom shower curtain rod. When IV went to ask Oliver to fix it, he rolled his eyes and spoke slowly, “IV, I'm trippin’ pretty hard right now, and you're freaking me out. This isn't a good time.”

IV felt bad for a moment, before realizing how ridiculous that was. 

Of course he is tripping right now, IV thought. He's having too much fun to take any responsibility for anything. 

IV brushed it off though, blaming it on poor timing, and just replaced the curtain rod himself.

 

A few days later, IV was doing homework on his bed when Oliver came into his room unannounced. At first, IV was happy, smiling and glad to see him. 

Then, Oliver went to his mattress, reaching down under it and pulling out a clear ziplock bag of powder. “This was the best place to hide it,” he explained. “I knew you wouldn't touch it.”

IV gave him a small smile, but inwardly he was sad. That's the only reason he came in here…

Oliver left without saying anything else, leaving IV to stare at his homework with a depressed feeling washing over him. 

He wishes Oliver came into his room because he just wanted to, not just for the drugs…

He sighs, wishes won’t do anything now, so why dwell on it?

 

And then things with James just kept getting more awkward. 

He would constantly corner IV in the kitchen, trying to make small talk, but really just making IV more and more  uncomfortable. 

IV was beginning to run out of excuses. James would ask him to lunch or dinner or to go for a walk in the park, and IV had cleverly avoided saying yes so far. 

He couldn't bring himself to say ‘Sorry, I'm actually infatuated with Oliver even though he's an asshole most of the time.” 

Such an asshole, honestly. 

 

But IV was getting fed up with the partying every night. The cops kept getting called for noise complaints, and IV was the one who had to open the door for them, being the only one sober enough to face them. 

“Sorry, Officers. We'll quiet down,” he told them, before going back to the crowd and urging them to lower the music, and stop yelling over one another. 

This particular move didn't earn him any kudos from the others, but IV didn't have any choice. He didn't want the cops coming back again… He had no clue how many illegal drugs were in the house, and he was a bit skeptical about the ages of some of Oliver's friends. 

The last thing he needed was charges for underage partying. 

Besides dealing with the police, the noise every night was also starting to get to him. He couldn't fall asleep very easily when his walls were vibrating from the bass of music in the living room. And it would go on for hours and hours, until everyone eventually passed out in the early morning. 

 

IV was currently waiting for that moment- when the music would stop and the voices would quiet and he could finally get some sleep. 

Tomorrow he's gonna talk to Oliver about this , he tells himself, his last thought before his eyes close. 

IV covers his eyes with the comforter, blocking out the light. “Go away, I don't feel good,” he mumbles. 

He definitely had one too many last night at CiCi's.

The man laughs, “No. Even more reason for me to stay.”

He feels the bed dip as the man climbs into the bed beside him. And then IV is abruptly pulled sideways until he is lying against him. The man wraps his arm around his shoulder and IV rests his head on his chest. They are almost the same size, so IV knows it's not either of the two previous dream-people. 

He feels fingers combing his hair in a slow, soothing motion. IV tries to keep his eyes open, but is struggling. 

“Go back to sleep,” the man says. “You'll feel better after some more rest, I'll stay here with you. And when you wake up, I'll cook your favorite breakfast.”

IV gives a content hum in response. He's comfortable and warm now. He finally lets his eyes fall closed, his headache easing as he drifts into unconsciousness.

When IV wakes in the morning, he tries to make sense of the dream. Who are these people? This is the third person now that he has dreamt of lately, but seemingly doesn't know.

It's strange. 

The feeling he wakes up with afterwards is even more strange though. He feels an odd sense of happiness and comfort, something he hasn't felt in real life in a long time. He lays there for a while, trying to hold on to that feeling for as long as he can.

 

When the feeling finally fades away, he sighs, combing his own fingers through his hair and sitting up in his bed. He brushes the thoughts of his dreams away while he mentally prepares for the day.

He has class in a few hours, but IV hopes he can catch Oliver before he leaves. 

 

By mid-morning, once IV has cooked breakfast (after doing the dishes again) he hears Oliver finally wake up and go to shower. 

He tries to time it right, scared about catching him in a bad mood and having this go terribly. 

He waits until Oliver comes into the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker. IV is putting away clean dishes into the cupboard, and then he speaks up. 

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Oliver gets this look on his face that IV can't decipher. Something between annoyance and regret. “Yeah? What's up?”

IV gestures towards the living room, where some people are still sleeping. “All the people… every night,” IV pauses, “It's starting to get to me, Oliver.”

Oliver actually looks relieved now, as if he thought that IV wanted to talk about something else entirely. 

“Yeah,” He starts. “It's starting to wear me out too. I'm gonna make everyone go home later.”

IV is shocked to hear this, expecting him to get mad at him for even bringing it up. IV didn't expect agreement and understanding. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just want a chill night tonight.” 

IV smiles, and feels a wave of happiness wash over him. “Thank you,” IV says, looking down at the floor and feeling suddenly shy or embarrassed about having to have this conversation. 

Oliver elbows him playfully, “Maybe we can watch a movie or something and order out.”

IV doesn't want to immediately say yes. He's sure he already appears desperate enough, willing to ignore everything bad about Oliver just to spend any given moment with him. 

So he plays it off. “Yeah,  maybe. We'll see.”

Oliver doesn't seem to expect that answer. He looks taken back for a second but then catches himself, smiling again. “Okay. Let me know later.”

IV nods, “Will do.” And then he leaves the kitchen before he can take anything he said back. 

Class drags, and his guitar lesson doesn't go very well. His teacher says he's not focused today, and that maybe he needs more rest. IV agrees with him. 

But IV also receives a few texts from Oliver while he's at the college.

“Pizza or Chinese?”

IV replies, “Chinese.”

A few minutes pass. 

“Jaws or Jurassic Park?”

“Jurassic Park, obviously.” 

IV receives a winking emoji in response.

He's trying not to smile to himself, but he can feel it happening- his face contorting into a pleasant expression.

He anxiously gets through the rest of his classes, before walking home faster than normal. 

He opens the front door, listening for loud music or voices of a crowd, but he doesn't hear anything like that. Utter silence. 

He goes to his room, throwing his bag on the bed and immediately showering and changing into night clothes. 

“IV?” He hears Oliver talking on the other side of his bedroom door. 

“Yeah?”

“I got us food, if you want “

IV does. 

“I'll be right out.”

He sees an assortment of food in the kitchen and makes himself a plate before he joins Oliver on the bean bag. 

“Thank you,” IV simply says, shoveling down crab rangoons while the first Jurassic Park movie plays out.

“It's no problem.”

IV eats more than what is probably considered polite, laughing to himself as he eats another spring roll. He places his hand in front of his mouth to speak to Oliver once he swallows. “I’m sorry, I'm eating everything you bought.”

Oliver shrugs, smiling. “I already ate. Feel free.”

“Thanks,” IV says again, ignoring the somewhat awkward feeling in the room. 

The silence just gets louder, and before IV can stop himself he blurts out, “Miss your friends?”

Oliver scoffs, “Not really. Half of them aren't really my friends anyways.”

“Then why do you let them come here every night?”

He frowns, looking a bit down. “I don't know. It's fun…”

But he doesn't sound very convincing. 

IV raises a brow, questioning him. 

“It's better this way.”

IV doesn't follow. “What do you mean?”

“Growing up… it wasn't like this. Then I moved here and suddenly everyone liked me. I'm not gonna ruin a good thing.”

“Is it a good thing?”

“Yeah… What do you mean?”

“I just don't think this is really good for you. How long can you keep this up? I can't imagine how tired you must be- I’m exhausted and I'm barely part of it.”

“I'm fine, IV.”

“Okay.”

“Just drop it, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. You just… You know what? Nevermind.”

“What?”

“You just act like two completely different people sometimes. The way you are with me and the way you are with them…”

“It's no accident.”

“What does that mean?”

“Seriously, forget it. Let's just watch the movie.”

IV wants to press him, but decides against it in the end. He doesn't wanna piss him off and he did just eat probably twenty dollars worth of his food. 

“I'm sorry,” IV murmurs. He turns back to the television, watching as a scientist explains their process for re-creating dinosaurs. “What idiot thought this plan up, huh?”

Oliver laughs, sinking further into the bean bag until his shoulder is resting against IV's. “Yeah, so many red flags and they ignored them all…”

IV laughs, and then repeats Oliver's words back in his head. 

He can't help but notice a connection there. Is he the idiot ignoring all of the red flags? 

IV empties his mind, deciding to curl up against Oliver and enjoy his warmth instead. Oliver wraps his arms around him and holds him close. 

“I missed you,” IV admits, even though he told himself a million times not to say it. 

“Yeah I missed you too,” Oliver replies. “You're bad for me though.” The last part is merely a whisper.

“Huh?”

“You make me hope for things that I shouldn't.”

“Like what?”

“Like having an actual home, or a real  relationship.”

IV has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying, “You could have those things, if you just chose them.”

He keeps quiet. 

They spend the rest of the evening this way, cuddled up on the bean bag until they finally retire to IV's room for the night. 

When IV wakes in the morning, he is alone again. Oliver is nowhere to be found.

Last night comes back to him in waves. 

Them watching the movie…

Oliver kissing him before they could see the ending…

Going to his room together…

Oliver fucking him…

Him getting himself off after Oliver came in him….

Them doing a half-ass job at cleaning up before passing out together, tangled around each other for most of the night…

 

He rubs his eyes. He should be sad that Oliver's gone… but he is getting used to this. He's starting to feel numb to it. 

God, that can't be healthy. 

 

A little while later, he knocks on Oliver's door, peeking his head inside to see if he's home, but there's no response, and no sign of him. Dylan’s already gone too, it seems. 

IV is alone and the house is creepily quiet. And messy again. He puts some music on, and decides to clean up while everyone's away. He spends the better part of two hours tidying up and sweeping and doing dishes. The trash and recycles are full again and there's the added pile of Chinese takeout containers from last night. 

Another reminder of things he doesn't want to think about. 

He gets everything sorted, looks at the newly clean house and smiles to himself. Then he goes back to his bed and crashes from exhaustion, falling asleep almost instantly. 

III:

 

He thinks he likes this place. 

It's too early to really judge, but so far, he's liked everything he's seen.

It's a small city, but with a lot to do. 

He walks by so many interesting restaurants, clubs, bars, museums, schools, parks, cafes, and stores. 

If he had any money, he would've gladly went inside some of them. 

He explores for the better part of three hours, before finding a park in the center of the town and sitting down in the grass.  Opening his pack, he rummages around through the food he got at the church. 

He takes out a can of tuna, opening it with his multitool, before squeezing a loose packet of hot sauce over it.. The fork he uses is one that is meant for camping- stainless steel with an attached spoon and knife. He mixes it around a bit before eating it. 

He chews in silence, watching people pass by and the birds chattering in the trees, just appreciating.his surroundings. When he's finished eating, he lays back onto the grass, watching the clouds float by as he plans his next move.

He needs to find a place to sleep. 

When he was exploring, he didn't see many good spots, but he still has a few more hours until sundown. 

He still has time. 

He thinks. This city is big, surely he hasn't seen it all. There's probably plenty of options, he just hasn't found them yet. 

He sits up, brushing leaves of grass off from his shirt. 

He's in his head, trying to work up the energy to get up and go scout out camping spots, when suddenly somebody plops down next to him. They have a big pack, like III's, so he figures they're also a traveler. 

“Hey,” the man says. He's probably close in age to III, with shaggy, curly, dark hair and a trimmed beard. “You just get in?”

III nods, “Just today. You?”

“I've been here a few days.”

“Know of any good spots?”

“I might…”

“Care to share?”

“I don't know. How can I be sure to trust you?”

III shrugs. “Just my word, I guess.”

The man stares at III, looking him up and down before answering. “Okay. Follow me.”

They stand to their feet, and begin a twenty minute walk to the outskirts of town. 

They finally arrive at another park, but this one is more of a forest, thick trees and shrubbery abundant here. 

III follows the man into the woods, hoping that he isn't about to get murdered. 

They follow a narrow trail until they reach a clearing. III sees multiple tents set up, with logs rolled nearby as makeshift chairs around a fire.

There's a few people sitting around talking. III does introductions but can't be bothered to remember their names. They'll probably be traveling on soon anyways, and if not, then he probably will. 

What's the point? 

He's purposely tried not to make friends during his travels, knowing there's a high chance he won't stay around for long. 

Maybe that's the wrong mindset to have, he thinks. Maybe he'll stay this time. 

Yeah, maybe he should try to make friends here. 

So, he sets up his sleeping bag and a tarp over it in case of rain, and then he goes and tries to socialize with the others. 

The  guy who brought him here is named Will, and III tries to relearn the other names after changing his mindset. He doesn't want to ask them again though, so he just joins in on conversion and picks up on cues until he thinks he knows them all. 

His eyes grow heavy and after a while, he excuses himself and goes to bed. He can hear the others still chatting and laughing around the fire. 

He wraps his sleeping bag around himself,  thinking about things for a moment. What if this is his place? Then what? He'd need to find a place to live, a way to make money… It all sounds exhausting, but traveling the way he has been is exhausting too. He'll figure it out soon, he tells himself, before quickly succumbing to sleep. 

 

II: 

 

II puts his drumsticks down, wiping his hands on his shorts. His whole body is aching and covered in sweat, or he would've kept going.

How long has he been at it anyways? 

He glances at his phone and his eyes widen. Nearly five hours.

He's been having this problem ever since he bought the drumset. Well, he's not sure if it's really a problem . But every time he sits down to practice, time warps around him and what feels like ten minutes to him is actually many hours. He just gets so focused on it that he loses all sense of time. 

But, it is exhausting. And that's a good thing. 

II stands and walks to the kitchen to take his medicine. He's still unsure how he feels about it. He can't tell if he's been sleeping better because of it, or because of the drums. 

Either way, he swallows it down with some water and goes to take a quick shower before bed. He hopes the hot water will help his aching muscles, but he also thinks he might start going to the gym finally. Doing a full body workout a few times a week might be beneficial for him. The last thing he wants is to hurt himself and not be able to play the drums. The thought is so frightening to him that it really makes him realize how much he loves it. 

Even when he's not playing now, he's watching more tutorials online or reading informational articles on the subject. It's all he's been thinking about.

He's quickly become fixated. 

He dries off from the shower and throws a pair of boxers on before climbing into his bed, which feels like a cloud to him right now. He’s so comfortable that he is pulled under within minutes.

II is cooking. There's a million half-prepared dishes scattered around him, and he's trying to make sure everything will be ready at the same time. 

Someone is standing in the kitchen with him, a few feet away, mixing up something in a bowl. 

He can't see them clearly, but he knows it is the same person from his last dream. 

He eyes the bottle of wine he needs to make a dressing, and is debating if drinking some would be a good idea. He's nervous…

He feels it. His stomach is knotted up and his hands are sweaty. Yes, he thinks that wine is a good idea. 

He plays it off, though. He does a taste test and then says how good it is, offering for the man to try some too. He does, and then they pour two glasses. It's a blur after that, all small talk and giggling. He feels close to being drunk. He sits on the floor, and the man sits next to him. His face feels flushed from the wine, but now he's not so nervous.

“Vess?” 

“Yeah?”

“You think I can have a kiss now too?”

The man doesn't answer, but instead pulls II into a kiss. II smiles into it, feeling a rush of happiness wash over him.

 

 

 

Chapter 9: Nine

Summary:

IV makes new friends
III can't pass up on a good offer
II works on his health

IV:

 

He's in that room again, the one that kind've looks like his current one but is bigger and different. 

He's sad. 

One of the previous people from his dreams walks in, the tallest one, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“IV, please calm down. It'll be fine.”

He can feel his lip quivering and his eyes starting to water.

“But what if it's not? He left yesterday and hasn't said a thing. He won't even text me back!”

The person sighs, walking closer to him. They stand behind him and wrap their arms around him, resting their chin on his head. 

“He'll come around, something just spooked him. And ya know, none of this is quite normal, so can you blame him?”

IV huffs, “No… But what if he doesn't come back?”

“He will.” The person says, and they sound quite confident in their answer. “I'll make sure of it.”

IV nods, and then pulls away from the person. He holds up one shirt on a hanger and compares it to another. “I like this one better…” He mumbles, throwing the other shirt into a bin on the floor..

The person walks back to him, presses a quick kiss to his head, and then leaves him alone to continue sorting through his clothes.

 

There's a blur, and suddenly the scene shifts. 

 

He's at a show in a small venue, watching a band on stage. 

He's standing beside someone, the person from his other dreams who’s similar in height. IV's holding a beer in one hand, but his other hand seems too empty. He reaches out, extending his fingers in a way that silently shows what he wants. The person beside him understands, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers. 

IV looks down at their hands and smiles to himself. When he looks back up, he can't see them, but he is sure that they are smiling too. 

 

The scene changes again.

 

He's in a castle now. 

Or at least, what used to be a castle. 

It's mostly ruins, but IV is so happy that it doesn't bother him in the slightest. 

He watches as the figure before him plays a beautiful song on an abandoned piano, his voice echoing throughout what is left of the building. 

He wants to take out his phone and record it, but it feels so special- just the two of them. He wants to keep this moment between them. 

It might be one of the most precious moments he's ever had. Just him and the figure, the beautiful song, and the crumbling walls surrounding them.

IV wakes with a gasp, jolting out of his dreams suddenly. 

What the fuck? 

What is up with these dreams? 

He's not really complaining, he likes them, he's just confused. 

None of this makes any sense, he thinks. 

Why would he dream about three complete strangers so vividly? 

It's like the dreams have already happened.

But they haven't. 

It doesn't make any sense.

He stays in bed a while again, holding onto the feeling he got from the dreams. It's only when he hears commotion from the living room that he sits up, checking the time. 

It's six p.m.

He groans. His sleep schedule is going to be even more fucked up now that he napped all day. 

And clearly Oliver invited everyone back over. 

He guesses one night of peace and quiet was enough for Oliver. 

He wishes he could say the same for himself.

He takes a deep breath and then changes into fresh clothes even though it's the evening now. Deciding to ease his curiosity, he leaves his room to see who is at the house tonight. 

He grabs a beer from the fridge and then joins everyone in the living room, pretending this isn't weird at all. A few of the usual people greet him, and Oliver smiles at him from across the room. 

IV looks around. He sees James and some of the other guys he's not too fond of, and a group of three girls he's never met before. They all have drinks in their hands and are laughing at some story Oliver is telling. 

IV hangs around for a  while, but starts to grow hungry. He excuses himself to the kitchen, deciding it was okay to cook eggs right now since he only woke up a little while ago. 

He cooks his food in peace at first, but then he's startled by the group of girls rushing into the kitchen. One of the girls is crying, her face red and streaked with tears, and the other two are trying to talk to her. 

“It's fine, just calm down.”

“No, I wanna go!” 

IV can tell from her slurring that she is obviously very, very drunk. 

“We were gonna stay here tonight, remember? We've all been drinking,” One of her friends explains.

The girl just starts crying harder and becomes practically hysterical, burying her face into her shirt sleeves. 

Her friends, for seemingly the first time, notice IV's presence and turn to him.

He looks away, taking a bite of his eggs while trying to mind his own business.

But when they don't leave the room, IV eventually asks. “Everything okay?”

One of the girls sighs, her eyes closing in frustration. “She wants to go… But we shouldn't drive. I don't know what to do.”

IV pauses, then carefully asks, “What's upset her?”

“She has a boyfriend… And Oliver keeps flirting with her, telling her to stay in his room with him tonight. She doesn't wanna.”

IV pushes his own feelings about that to the side for now. Right now, he's trying to figure out what he can do to help.

“What about the living room?”

The girl shakes her head. “With those guys? No thanks. I trust them even less than Oliver.” 

IV nods, because frankly, she's right. The other guys here are bad news. 

He would offer Dylan's room but he's not home, as he started a new part-time job recently with strange hours. And IV doesn't think he'd be very happy about coming home to his room occupied. 

“Okay. Well, what if… you stay in my room?” Before they can answer, IV clarifies. “I have extra mattresses… I can pull them out onto the floor and you guys can have your own.”

He knows it's not the best solution. Why would they trust him any more than the other guys?

But for some reason, they do.

“Really?” The girl who's been crying finally speaks to him. 

“Yeah, um.. I don't mind. My room’s not huge or anything… But it'll beat sleeping on the floor, and I really don't want you guys to drive.”

The girl wipes her eyes on her sleeve and then walks up to IV and gives him a hug. “Thank you.”

He rubs her back, trying to comfort her as he glances up at her friends. They just look happy that she's finally stopped crying.  “It's no problem. Come on, let's go get everything set up.”

They follow him into his room, and IV doesn't miss the looks he gets from the guys in the living room as they cross the hallway. He ignores it. 

The girls enter his room, standing awkwardly by the door while IV pulls his mattress tower apart. 

He slides the first one onto the floor, and then the second. 

“I only have two extra, so two of you will have to share, sorry.”

“That's totally fine, don't apologize.”

IV smiles and then fishes through his closet for some extra blankets. 

Once everyone is settled, IV climbs into his bed. “Is everyone ready? I'll turn off the lamp.”

“Yeah, we're good.”

IV clicks the lamp off and then breathes out a sigh of relief. He's not really tired yet, but that's okay. And, sure, this is a bit awkward, but he could never live with himself if they had left and something bad happened to them.

He did a good thing. 

“Goodnight everyone,” he says quietly. 

One of the girls says it back, but the other two have already passed out. He closes his own eyes, hoping for nice dreams tonight. 

“Give it back,” The person says, sounding serious but chuckling a little. 

IV shakes his head no, smirking and backing away from them with the book behind his back. He's laughing too.

The person steps towards him, and IV cranes his head up to look up at them. IV steps backwards until his back meets the wall.

The person places their hand under his chin, holding his face still. Then they lean down and press their lips to his. IV's eyes widen, not expecting it, before he melts into the kiss. He forgets all about the book until he feels it pulled from his hands. The person laughs against his lips, holding the book high above his head. 

They pull away and look at IV's face. “Works every time,” They tease. 

IV doesn't care about the book anymore. He stands on his toes, trying to be taller, and taps his lips with his fingers. The person leans in, his face close to IV's, “Look at you, such a needy boy… One kiss and you're begging me for more…”

IV grabs their shoulders and pulls them closer, closing the distance between them. Yes, he is needy. He doesn't care. He just wants to kiss them again. 

They toss the book to the side, freeing their hands to hold IV. One hand comes to rest on his hip, while the other wraps around his neck. 

As soon as IV feels their hand there, he knows he's done for. He moans into the person's mouth, squeezing their shoulders harder and trying to push his body against theirs. The person hums out a laugh, pulling away. “That's enough for now.”

IV visibly pouts and the person wags a finger at him. “Nuh uh, no pouting. Be good.”

IV's face goes red, but having this person be so bossy and tell him to ‘be good,’  just makes him want it more. 

The person looks at IV's flustered face and quietly laughs. “Oh, god. You're gonna be trouble… We'll continue this later. Right now, we have shit to do! Get packing!”

 

 

Now, he's walking down a hallway and can hear the noise from here. Hundreds of voices, screaming and cheering. He turns a corner and someone hands him his guitar. He grabs it, quickly slinging the strap over his shoulder and adjusting it to sit right. Then he continues walking. He's following two others, and one person is walking behind him. 

They turn another corner and go up a few stairs, then walk behind a curtain. 

He struts forward, following the two others as they take their places on the stage. The lights are low, and his vision is limited. But he can see the crowd, packed into the venue so tightly there's not much room for anyone to move. 

He turns towards the figure at the center of the stage, watching them pick up a cordless microphone. IV waits for his cue, and then starts playing. The noise from before seems quiet compared to the noise the crowd makes now. An instrumental part of the song plays out, and IV focuses his eyes back on his hands, making sure to get the chords right.

Suddenly, he senses someone standing behind him. He doesn't look up, just continues strumming. The person reaches their arm out and gently touches his arm,letting him know they are there. IV smiles, knowing what's coming next. They lean close, pressing a kiss to his head. IV responds by tilting his head up, nuzzling his face into their neck. 

IV feels them squeeze his arm in a comforting gesture before walking away. 

In the morning, he wakes up confused at the sound of hushed giggling. He rolls over and opens his eyes, seeing the girls awake and quietly talking to each other. 

Last night comes back to him all at once, making him forget about the dreams for now. 

He clears his throat. “Morning. You all sleep okay?”

The girl who was crying the night before looks embarrassed, but nods. One of her friends says, “Yes. Thank you so much. Sorry for last night…”

“Don't worry about it.. it happens.”

“Well, you didn't have to help. That was really nice of you.”

IV just smiles, unsure of what else to say. 

“Wanna go out for coffee with us? It'll be our way of repaying you.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Yeah, but we wanna.”  She looks at the other two girls, “Don't we?”

The other two immediately agree. 

IV thinks about it for a moment. He doesn't have plans today. He could go. It might be awkward, but what if it's fun? 

“Um, okay. Sure, why not?” 

Their response is a mix of “Yay!” “Woo!” and “Awesome!” which makes IV laugh, but he likes their enthusiasm. 

“Let me just get dressed, I'll be right back,” he mumbles, grabbing some clothes from his dresser and heading towards the bathroom. 

He changes and brushes his hair and his teeth. Once he feels ready he goes to return to his room, but nearly collides with James in the hallway.

“Oh, hey,” IV mutters, trying to walk around him. 

“Hey,” James says. “Have a good night?” He nods his head towards IV’s door. The insinuation is clear. 

“Yeah, slept great,” IV says back, sarcastically. He tries again to walk around him but James places a hand on his shoulder. “Well, you pissed Oliver off, that I know,” And then he laughs. 

IV just forces a smile, and shoves his way around him. 

He doesn't wanna deal with this right now.. He just wants to get coffee with those nice girls. 

So he does. He ignores the comments from James and tries not to think about the dirty looks he got the night before. He opens his door and sees the girls struggling to put his bed back together. He chuckles, “Here, let me help you.”

He lifts up his top mattress with the bed sheet covering it, allowing for them to place the other mattresses back underneath it. 

Once everything is back in place, he turns back to the girls. “So, coffee?”

 

The girls insisted on going to the fanciest coffee shop around, even though IV protested. 

“It's our treat!” The one who cried the night before exclaimed.

Another one grabbed his hand, pulling him into the shop after he tried to argue about it.

He looks over the menu behind the counter while he waits in line. The girls are chattering about, talking about their plans for the rest of the weekend. 

When the barista asks for their order, IV orders a plain black coffee with cream, while the girls order an array of iced lattes. 

They find a table outside the cafe, pulling enough chairs over for them all to sit together..

IV sips on his coffee and watches some people walk by. 

“So…” He starts. “I didn't catch any of your names.”

“I'm Winter,” the girl, who was very drunk and crying the night before, says. 

“Sasha,” The next girl says.

The third girl lifts her hand up, as if a teacher was calling for attendance. “Chloe.”

IV gives them a smile, “I'm IV, if you don't already know.”

They laugh. “We do. It's hard to forget.”

He bows his head, looking at his lap and feeling a little shy. 

Winter reaches across the table, grabbing his hand. “Thank you, IV. You were our knight in shining armor last night.”

He shrugs, “I just didn't wanna see anything bad happen.”

There's an awkward silence for a moment, then IV continues. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Winter sighs, “Not really…. Ugh, I guess… I have a boyfriend. I mean, it's not that serious, we only just started dating… but Oliver… I don't know… I could tell what he wanted, and I didn't want that.”

IV gives her an understanding look. One that she must read into entirely too easily.

“Why do you room with him? You're nothing like him. You're actually decent.”

IV awkwardly shrugs. “I don't know, it was just… Convenient.”

Chloe shakes her head back and forth. “No, no way. There's plenty of people looking for rooms to rent. But you chose him .”

IV can feel himself getting more emotional than he wants. He blinks his eyes a few times, and then tries to think of what to say. 

“I… I like him. Or, at least I did. I don't know how I feel about him now….”

Winter makes a noise that's a cross between a laugh and a scoff. “Well, this is awkward….”

IV clarifies. “No, don't worry. It's nothing new. I'm used to it.”

All of their faces drop, and IV thinks he might have said something wrong. 

“What?” He asks.

“You shouldn't settle for that.”

“You're too good for someone like him.”

“Don't put up with that, IV. You could do better.”

He pauses before continuing. “I know it's just… I can't get him outta my head…. And I  know he could be better if he tried, he just… won't.”

Chloe, who is sitting closest to him, leans over and rests her head on his shoulder, simultaneously putting an arm around him. “You're just a good person, and we don't wanna see the light get sucked out of you.”

IV thinks about her words for a moment, but then abruptly changes the subject. 

“So… What do you all do?”

Winter answers first, “I sing! I'm even in a band now.”

“That's cool. What about you two?” He asks Chloe and Sasha.

Winter answers for them. “They sing too, and I'm trying to convince them to join me but they're hesitant.”

IV laughs, “Well, it's intimidating, being on stage.”

“You have any experience with that?”

IV shrugs. “I take guitar lessons, and playing in front of my teacher feels like I'm in front of a crowd sometimes.”

As the words leave his mouth, flashbacks from his dream last night appear. On stage, with the other mysterious people, playing to a huge crowd… receiving a kiss on stage in front of everyone, and instead of being shy, leaning into it…

“Anyways!” Sasha says, “You're deflecting. Back to you and Oliver.”

IV groans, burying his face in his hands. “Are you not gonna let this go?”

“No.”

IV huffs. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

“How did you meet? And what's happened since then?”

“We met at CiCi's. We kept going to the same shows. One night, probably after too many beers, he kissed me.”

IV has another memory from the dreams last night… Someone kissing him…. IV not wanting it to end. That kiss was a lot better than any of the ones he's had with Oliver. He snaps back to the current conversation when he hears the girls coo at his answer.

He rolls his eyes. 

“What happened next?”

IV shrugs. “He needed a place to live, I needed a roommate. Problem solved.”

“Yeah, but that's not all, is it?”

IV can feel his face redden. “No… We hook up sometimes.”

“Do you like it?” Sasha asks.

“Yeah, I mean, it's Oliver….”

“No, forget all the pre-established bullshit. Do you like it ?”

IV thinks again. “Mostly, but he's selfish...”

“How so?”

IV goes even redder. “I have to… get myself off, every time. And he's usually gone in the morning.”

He sees three faces of disappointment. “Oh, that's not right,” Chloe says. 

Sasha and Winter hum in agreement, and suddenly IV feels embarrassed again.

Why did he just tell them that? They're practically strangers.

“I shouldn't have said anything…”

“Aww, but why? You were just opening up to us!”

“It's embarrassing and pathetic.”

“No it's not, IV.” 

“Yeah it is, I know it is. And I barely know you…”

“That can change,” Chloe says, giving him a fond smile. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! We like you. We should do this more often.”

“Sleeping on my floor or getting coffee?”

Chloe giggles. “I meant coffee but sleeping on your floor was alright too.”

Everyone laughs and then IV sighs. “I don't even wanna go back there right now. You know it's bad when I would rather be at school.”

“So hangout with us for the day,” Winter says. 

IV weighs his options. Hanging out with them does sound a lot better than going home and being sad in his room all day. 

He could use a break from everything there. 

IV finally agrees. “Okay.”

The girls cheer. 

They finish their coffees and then begin walking towards the center of town with IV. He likes these weird girls. They're loud and nosy but they are also sweet and caring and made him laugh more in one morning than he has in the last month. He’s smiling as they walk. He can't remember the last time he felt so happy. 

III:

 

The next morning, III decides to go back to the church to try to catch the breakfast meal. He tells Will and the others about it, and they accompany him there. 

They leave their tents and tarps set up, but III takes his pack with him. It's significantly lighter without so much gear, but he was too nervous to leave everything behind, fearing that something may happen to it all. 

When they get to the church, there's people going in and out of the building with takeout containers of food. III is relieved to have made it in time. There's a lot of other commotion outside the building too though. People are lugging boxes and totes onto the lawn. He's not sure what that is about.

When he goes inside, he sees Maisie. She smiles and gives him a wave from across the room. He walks over to her. 

“You made it!”

He nods, “Just in time?”

“Yes! And we have a great menu today, you’ll love it.” She fishes out a paper from her pocket and hands it to III. It’s a simple list of the food they are serving this morning, with all ingredients listed. It even highlights which options are vegan, vegetarian, and gluten free. 

He snickers and shakes his head a little in disbelief.

“What?” Maisie asks, looking confused.

“Nothing, it's just… this is like… fancy for church food.”

“I told you, it's culinary students getting their experience and volunteering hours in. But that's why it's so good. Now, go eat! I’ve got to run around and get some things done. But you need to find me after and give me a food review.”

III just laughs, “Okay, will do.”

He gets in line, patiently waiting his turn to be served. Once he has his container of food, he finds a table and sits down. Will and the other travelers join him shortly after, but they mostly talk to one another and not to III.

III is enjoying the food, so he’s not trying to rush it. But he also just wants to find Maisie again and talk to her some more. He’s unsure why, but he really likes her. Does he have a crush on her? No, he doesn't think that's it.

He eats half of the food and then closes up his container, saving the other half for later. He walks around the church looking for her, but he can't find her anywhere. He decides to check outside.

He sees her, attempting to set up a fold-out table on the lawn. He approaches her, “Want some help?”

She looks up and smiles. “That would be great, thank you.” He starts helping her unfold the table legs and click them into place. When its finally set up, they move the table so its right side up. Maisie grabs a white tablecloth and places it over the table. 

“So? What’d you think?” She asks him, gesturing towards his container of food.

“It was great. The best meal I've had in weeks.”

“Are you just saying that to be nice?”

“No. But I mean, I am comparing it to other free meals and whatever I can eat straight from a can.”

She makes a face, like she feels pity for him. He’s unsure how to feel about that. He clarifies as simply as he can. “Don’t feel bad. It was a decision I made, not a hardship.”

“It can be both.”

“What?”

“It can be a decision you made, and still a hardship.”

He thinks about that a moment before responding. “Well, it was my choice to up and leave.”

“Why was that? Oh, I’m being nosy again, I’m sorry, it's none of my business.”

He laughs, “I don't mind.” Then he shrugs. “I don’t know. Just felt like I belonged somewhere else. Only problem is I don't know where that is.”

“Do you think it could be here?”

“Maybe. I hope so, actually. It’s nice here.”

She smiles, and even her eyes look happy to hear that. 

“So you explored the city a little?”

“Yup, even found a spot to camp with some others.” III gestures towards the sidewalk where Will and the others are talking and sharing a cigarette.

“That’s good to hear.”

III looks around and notices more tables being set up and more boxes being brought outside. “So, what's going on here?”

Maisie’s eyes widen. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. It’s the church’s annual autumn tag sale. People donate things they no longer need, and then we have this tag sale. All the money we raise goes towards future church activities.”

“That’s cool.”

“It’ll all be set up soon. Feel free to look around, everything’s really cheap.”

He smiles, but already knows he doesn’t have money for anything, or any more room in his pack. He sticks around though, hanging out in a shady spot until things are set up.

Cars begin pulling up and parking in front of the church, people wandering to examine the things laid out in the yard and on the tables.

III stands, stretching before strolling over to the tables. He sees a lot of dishes, some books- mostly religious, knick-knacks, jewelry… There's a rack with clothing on hangers displayed behind a table, and also some larger items laid out on a blanket in the grass. So far, nothing really interests him that much. But then he sees it. His eyes lock on a Bass guitar laying on one of the blankets. He walks over to it, immediately picking it up and inspecting it. It’s in good shape, just dusty as hell. He flips it over and looks at the back of it, but that side is fine too. There’s no visible damage.

He’s squinting, trying to read the make and model, when he feels a hand on his shoulder and jumps. Maisie laughs, “Sorry. What’d ya find?”

“A Bass,” he mutters, “A really nice one. It’s not broken or anything…”

“You play?”

“Yeah. Well, I used to anyway. Couldn’t really take a Bass with me on the road. Sold my old one before I left.”

“You should get it.”

“What? No, I couldn't…”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, I don't have any money.”

“I could cover you.”

He sighs, “That’s really nice of you, but I don't know how I'd pay you back.”

Maisie scoffs, looking over the price sticker. “It’s twenty-five bucks.”

“Still….”

“You could help me at the church for two hours, and we would be even.”

He actually thinks about it for a moment, before reality sets back in.

“Even so, I can’t. I don’t have anywhere to keep it. It would get ruined with me at the camp if it rained. And I can't carry it with me everywhere I go, it just wouldn’t work.” He can hear the disappointment in his own voice as he says this, so it’s obvious Maisie can hear it as well.

“So, you can keep it at my house.”

“What?”

She shrugs. “I have an enclosed porch. It’s not temperature controlled or anything, but it would be out of the rain. And you can leave it there whenever you’re not using it.”

He looks at her like she is crazy. “Why would you offer that?”

“Well why not?”

“You hardly know me.”

“You’re harmless, I can tell. Not like some of the others who come here.” Her eyes flicker over to Will and the others, and III briefly wonders what she means by that, before he refocuses.

“I could keep it on your porch, grab it and leave it whenever, and could pay you back by helping you here?”

“That’s right. That’s my offer,” Maisie smiles, crossing her arms like she knows she’s already persuaded him.

III blows out a breath, “Fuck, okay. That’s just too good of a deal to pass up.”

She laughs, “It is. So grab it and I’ll go pay.”

III grabs the Bass, which even has a soft carrying case with it. This is too good to be true , he thinks. He hasn’t felt this happy in a while, and he only has Maisie to thank for that.

After she pays, she brings III to her car and they place the Bass into the trunk.

“I have to help out here a bit longer, but then we can go. I’ll show you where I live.”

“Okay, I’ll just hang around.”

Maisie disappears, running back inside the church. III finds Will sitting in the grass, eating some more, and sits next to him. 

“I’ve got to do something after this,” III starts, “But i’ll find you guys back at the camp later.”

“Got a hot date?” Will asks.

“No, just stashing some of my stuff at someone’s house.”

“What stuff?” Will laughs, looking at III’s pack. 

“I got a Bass,” III says, “from the tag sale.”

“Oh, shit. No kidding.”

III nods, smiling. Will looks unhappy though for some reason.

He clears his throat, and looks back to meet III’s eyes. “Gonna busk?”

III laughs, “Do people really busk with a Bass?”

Will nods, “You can.”

“Huh, never thought about that before.”

“Well, could be a good way to get some cash, all I'm saying.”

III realizes he is right. But he would need to practice first and learn some songs that the general public might recognize on a Bass guitar. III thinks that alone might be a bit challenging. But it could be worth a shot.

After a little while, Maisie comes over. “Okay, all set. Ready?”

“Yup,” III stands from the grass, waving at Will. “I'll see ya later.”

“See ya.”

In the car, III sits in the passenger seat, watching out the window as Maisie takes them towards her house.

“It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it? Being right near the water and all.”

“It is,” III agrees. “I really like it.”

They turn off from the main city street, instead driving further into a secluded neighborhood. III looks at the houses they pass. They aren’t huge, but they are cute and homey. Almost all of them have enclosed porches and planters of beautiful flowers placed on their front steps. It’s all very picturesque. 

Maisie makes a few more turns and III tries to remember how to get back downtown from here. She finally slows the car and pulls into a driveway. Her house is just like the others,  charming and modest. The only difference is that her house is painted a light shade of purple, lilac maybe, which III is thankful for. The unique color will make it easier for him to find again next time. 

They get out of the car, and she unlocks the trunk. III grabs that Bass and waits for Maisie to lead the way.

She walks up the steps and III follows, stepping through a screened door and into the porch. 

“This is it,” She says.

III looks around at the space. It’s possibly the cutest porch he’s ever seen. There’s an outdoor couch with throw pillows, some wicker chairs, a patterned rug, and warmly colored string lights hanging from one end to the other.

“This is great,” III says, setting the Bass down. “Coolest porch ever.”

Maisie laughs, “You need to get out more… err, maybe in more.”

III is taken back for a second at her bluntness, but then bursts into laughter. 

“Sorry, sorry…” Maisie says between laughs, “That was uncalled for.”

“No,” III says, laughing, “That was fucking hilarious.”

When they stop laughing, III asks, “So where should I keep this? I don't want it to be in your way.”

Maisie walks to the far end of the porch, looking around at the options. “How about over here by this chair? I usually sit on the couch, so it won’t be a bother here.”

“You got it,” III says, bringing it over and setting it in the spot she suggested. “Um, so, the conditions?”

“Right. So, you can come and go anytime, say… between nine and six? Is that fair?”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, and I'll give you my number too, so you can warn me before you show up.”

“Okay. And what about the church stuff?”

“Are you coming to the meal tomorrow?”

III gives her a look, like duh!

“Well, you can help me clean up afterwards if you’re up for it. That would be an hour easy.”

“Alright, that sounds good.”

“Good.”

III scratches the back of his head, “Okay, well I'll let you get on with your night….” III goes to walk away but Maisie grabs his arm, “Wait! Numbers!”

III hands her his phone and she puts her number in and then texts her own phone an emoji. 

Her phone dings and then she saves his contact info.  “I’ll text you my address too, in case you get lost next time.”

“Thanks, Maisie. Really.”

“Have a good night, III!”

“Good night.”

II:

 

 

He wakes up around six again, thankful it's a somewhat reasonable hour.

He instantly recalls the dream last night, because it was so strange. Who was he kissing? They were cooking together in a house that seemed familiar but he knows he's never seen before. 

He gets up and reads the label on his prescription again. Maybe he missed something. But no, there's nothing about weird dreams.

He decides to Google it, thinking maybe he'll find a thread of people's firsthand experiences with this medicine. He does, and spends thirty minutes reading every comment. But none of them mention having bizarre dreams. It seems he's the only one with this problem. 

If it keeps happening, he'll call the doctor back, he thinks. He promised he would wait two weeks anyways before making any conclusions about the medicine. 

For now, he will just ignore it, he decides. Today, he wants to go to his new gym, maybe take a tour and figure out a workout regimen that would be helpful for sleeping better and for drumming more. 

He's already done some research and learned that weight lifting can help build core strength, rock climbing can help with balance, and jump roping and cardio can help with stamina. It's also advised to do some stretching or yoga often. So, he thinks he will need a pretty well-rounded routine. Swimming was also a common exercise that many drummers recommended, so he may try that as well. 

After he has his coffee and dresses, he packs a small drawstring bag and heads towards the gym. 

Upon arrival, he is greeted by a man at the front desk. 

“Welcome,” he says. 

II smiles and walks up to him. “Hi. So, I just got a membership here but today's my first day. Could I have someone show me where everything is?”

II almost feels bad for asking, but he really doesn't want to get lost or accidentally end up in the wrong locker room or something. There are also tiers to the membership, and he has the cheapest option, so some areas are off limits to him. 

“Sure! Let me go grab someone.”

The man disappears behind a door and then returns with another guy. He looks similar in age to II and friendly. 

“This is Dylan. He can show you around.”

II nods, “that would be great.”

Dylan motions for him to follow, so II quickly scans his membership card and walks behind him into the hallway. 

“I'm II,” II says. 

Dylan gives him a smile. “Nice to meet you. Excited to start here?”

“Yeah, I'm hoping I'll like it.”

“Well if you don't come for thirty days, we usually call people to make sure they're not having any issues here.”

“Does that happen often?”

“No. Most people just get lazy,” He laughs. 

II doesn't think that'll be a problem for him. If anything, he's worried he might like it too much, like the drums. Especially considering it could aid in his drumming too.

“Here's the locker rooms. Those are for gold members, so this is the one you would use,” Dylan explains. 

II enters and looks around the locker room. It's what he expected. 

“You can bring your own lock or rent one from the lobby. Or pay for a permanent locker with your monthly membership fee, it's up to you.”

“Okay.”

They continue on, and next Dylan shows him the weight room, followed by the cardio room. There's a few smaller rooms for gold members that are more private, and Dylan points those out as well. 

He follows him further and they walk through a long hallway before coming to two large doors on either side. “Left is the pool. Right is the climbing room.”

II smiles at that. He wasn't sure if they even had a climbing room, and he kept forgetting to look it up on their website. 

Dylan turns to him. “So, any questions?” 

“Uh, just one. I know how to use the cardio equipment, but if I need help learning about the weight room, is there someone I can ask?”

“Oh, yeah. You can grab me anytime or request a personal training appointment up at the front lobby.”

“Okay, great. Thank you.”

They walk back towards the locker room. When they reach the door, Dylan gives II a pat on the shoulder. “I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” 

II turns towards the door and takes a breath before pushing it open. He didn't bring a lock today, but he makes a mental note to pick one up at the store on his way home. 

He changes into his gym clothes, throws on a pair of sneakers rather than his Vans, and heads towards the cardio room. 

 

Notes:

IV got his own girl gang now. I originally just thought the girls would be one-time party goers but then I had this idea and I love itttt. <3

Chapter 10: Ten

Summary:

IV avoids home
III misses his

Notes:

*Sorry there is no II POV in this chapter like usual because he is being stubborn but also this chapter was gettng a bit long anyways
*Next chapter will be a II POV to make up for it :)

IV:

 

He tried to avoid it for as long as possible, but eventually he had to go home. He parted ways with the girls and immediately felt saddened by the loss of their company. He promised to see them again soon though. 

Every step he takes towards the house feels worse and worse. He knows he is going to walk back into the house and be faced with Oliver in a shitty mood after last night. His plan is to just quietly make his way to his room and camp out there until this whole thing blows over. Oliver's moods change quickly, which was both a good and a bad thing. 

He unlocks the door and quietly walks towards his room. But apparently luck is not on his side today and he immediately comes face to face with Oliver in the hallway. 

IV looks down at the floor, trying to walk past him as fast as possible without incident. 

“Happy with yourself?” He hears Oliver mutter, right after he passes him.

IV freezes, confused. He turns back to Oliver. “What?”

Oliver laughs, but it is with an unhappy undertone. “You know what,” He scoffs.

IV stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then he shakes his head in disbelief, “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“One day you say you miss me, you're kind to me…  And the next day you’re such a fucking dick, and just go and fuck whoever is available!”

“ This is exactly why!” Oliver says, pointing at IV's angry face. “You're already too attached. And I don't want a relationship right now, I've told you this before! I'm trying to keep my distance!”

“Then stop acting like we're in a relationship every other day!”

“Then you stop! Stop waiting up for me at night. Stop glaring at every person I talk to, that isn't you! Stop purposefully ruining opportunities for me!”

“That's not what happened—” IV starts, but Oliver interrupts him. 

“Well that's what it looked like to me!”

IV can feel his anger growing. His thoughts are scrambling around his head in a million directions. He tries, very hard, to keep a calm, level voice. He takes a deep breath and then speaks. 

“Maybe ask yourself this. Why would a girl rather spend the night crying to me, than sleep in your room?! That's a pretty fucking obvious sign that something's not right, Oliver.”

Oliver tries to make a comeback, but is apparently at a loss for words. He opens his mouth but then closes it, glaring at IV instead. 

IV turns, leaving before he actually blows up on him. 

He locks his door behind him, quickly shutting all of his lights off before crawling under his covers. He can feel his eyes start to tear up, but blinks it away. There's probably no going back from that… 

He blows out a breath, then rolls over and closes his eyes.

Hopefully his dreams are nice tonight . He could use an escape. 

IV opens the door, trying to hide his smile. He's been plotting all day, waiting for this moment. 

He walks into the room and sees the figure with a headset on, sitting in front of his computer and talking into his mic. Perfect . IV moves purposefully towards him, knowing the person is watching him,  tilting his head and curious as to what IV is up to. 

But then the person just pays more attention to the controller in their hands and continues talking back into the mic. IV goes to them, standing beside them for a moment before abruptly dropping to his knees. 

It catches the person off guard. They inhale sharply enough for IV to audibly hear, then slowly place a hand in IV's hair. 

IV looks up at them, smirking devilishly before his hands go to the person's waistband. He tugs on it, trying to silently cue what he wants. The person lifts their hips enough for IV to tug them down, underwear too. 

“Fuck…” The person sighs. “No, nothing. Not you,” he says into the mic. “I'm waiting… um, I’m in the waiting room, I mean.”

IV places his hands on the person's thighs, squeezing slightly as he lowers his head to leave a trail of kisses along them. The hand runs through his hair again, grabbing a few tufts and gently pulling his head back. 

IV can't really see their face, but he can hear their breathing get heavier, while trying to maintain their composure. 

The hand lets go of his hair, and lands back on the controller. IV lowers his head back down, moving a hand to lightly grip the person's cock, which is already half-hard in his hand. 

They hum quietly at the touch, trying not to make much noise. IV gets more comfortable, settling down on his knees more, then bends and licks a trail from their thigh to their cock. The person nearly drops the controller, jutting their hips up slightly before relaxing again. 

IV waits for them to still, but he doesn't keep them waiting. IV swallows their cock in one swift move, taking it down his throat until he can't go any further. 

The hand flies back to his hair, holding him there a moment. IV stays still, breathing from his nose until he has to pull back. He takes a few breaths and then sucks them down again, slowly but methodical, every flick of his tongue intentional. He knows what this person likes.

“Ah, fuck!  No.. it's not… not that. Just get off and come to my room. Now .”

IV hears them disconnect their headphones and toss them to the side. And then the hands are back on him, two this time. 

IV continues sucking him for a minute, before looking back up. 

“You're fucking lucky we were in a private party…” They say, their voice low, to which IV just softly laughs. 

The door suddenly opens and IV glances up at the second person, smiling brightly at them before trying to get back to what he was doing.

But the figure grabs his hair, pulling him off of his knees and up to his feet. “Nuh uh. You made us forfeit the game… Now we get to think of what to do with you.. “

It sounds like a threat, and IV couldn't be more pleased with himself. His plan worked perfectly. 

“What do you think?” They ask, turning to look at the smaller of the two figures.

“Hmm, we could take turns with him…”

The taller one pauses before weighing in. “Or share him…”

Both options sound good to IV, who lets out a small whimper as he's pushed towards the bed . 

“Well, if he was so eager to please you, maybe that's all he should do,” The smaller one comments, watching closely as IV is dragged further onto the bed and laid on his back. “Maybe we take turns using his pretty little mouth and then leave him unsatisfied ‘til morning….”

IV's eyes widen, shaking his head back and forth ‘no.’”

The taller figure laughs. “Don't act like you don't like the idea… Being used by us like that.”

IV feels his face warm. Fuck, the person is right. He does like that idea. But he's also already hard and doesn't think he can handle waiting until the morning… Well, he could always sneak away to the bathroom…

“He likes it,” the smaller one says, “And we'll stay with you all night just to be sure, won't we?” He pats IV’s head in a loving gesture before looking up to the other person for confirmation.

“That's right,” They say, in a tone that borders on mocking. 

IV whines, grabbing the hand that's petting him and tugging on it in an attempt to get the person closer to him. He wants their lips on his right now… 

They laugh softly and pull away. “I think you need to make it up to him first, hmm?”

IV looks back to the taller person, who's currently slipping out of his clothes. IV nods, silently answering while keeping his eyes locked on him. 

Throwing the last of his clothing on the floor, he kneels on the bed, crawling forward until he's hovering over IV. 

IV smiles up at him, gesturing to his lips and silently asking for a kiss. He indulges IV, lowering his head and meeting him half way. 

When he goes to pull away, IV protests, whining and leaning up in an attempt to kiss him again. He gently pushes at IV's chest, making him lay back down. “Don't be greedy, this was your idea after all.”

IV still frowns, unhappy at the lack of contact. But it only lasts a moment, as the person crawls further up the bed, resting their legs around IV's shoulders. 

“Let's try this again,” He say, putting a finger into IV's mouth and nudging it open. 

IV obliges, letting his mouth go slack as the person leans forward, letting his cock slip over IV's tongue. 

IV let's his eyes fall closed, and focuses on breathing as the man pumps his cock in and out of his mouth. He tastes salty and feels warm against his tongue. IV feels his own cock twitching the longer he sucks on him. 

IV shifts, raising his hips a little as a moan escapes his lips. The second person notices, coming closer and gently placing a hand over the bulge in his pants, caressing him slowly. 

“He likes that,” They say, recognizing when the first person holds his head still and fucks his mouth relentlessly.

The first person chuckles. “I knew it… He likes being treated like this…” Then he looks down at IV. “Don't you?” 

IV can't answer, but attempts to say yes with his eyes. 

The first person laughs again, then grabs IV's hair and pulls on it, just hard enough for IV to feel his cock twitch again beneath his pants. The other person is still touching him in an absentminded way as they watch the two of them. 

The man picks up his pace, getting closer to finishing. 

“Fuck, yes… Just like that… You're doing so good for me…” He places his hand under IV's chin and meets his eyes again, which beam at the praise. 

“Tell him,” He says to the other person, who moves their hand away from IV's cock and comes to stand closer. They run their fingers through IV's hair and tilt their head, looking downwards to meet IV's gaze. “Yes, he is. Always such a good boy for us…”

IV moans around the cock in his mouth, trying to lift his hips again. They aren't met with the friction he wants- the absence of it leaving him frustrated and wanting. He whines, and the vibration of it causes the person to stutter their movements, cursing before holding IV still as they cum down his throat. 

IV tries not to gag, pleading with his body to relax. The person slowly pulls out and then shimmies backwards down the bed until they're face to face with one another again. 

He leans down and gently kisses IV, his hands placed on both sides of IV's face. 

He pulls back slightly, murmuring against IV's lips. “You ok?”

IV smiles, nodding, and then kisses him again.. “I'm fine,” IV mumbles. The person smiles back, looking a little more sinister now. “Good, because now it's his turn.”

IV jumps awake at a sudden, loud noise from outside his bedroom door. 

He waits a moment, waking up and clearing his head. He should go see what that was, he thinks. But he doesn't. 

Instead, he lays in his bed and repeats that dream over and over to himself. 

So now he's giving blowjobs to the strangers, he thinks, laughing to himself. 

He thinks about it further. It's definitely the same people in every dream. Even if he can't see their faces, they always have the same voices and builds. 

He couldn't see their faces, but this time he could somehow see their eyes. Beautiful, striking, blue eyes…. Both of them…

Something else about this dream sticks out to him too. He was so much more… outgoing? Bold? Confident? Nothing like he currently is. He did things in his dream that he’s only ever fantasized, and never told anyone about. 

Being used like that…. Being praised and bossed around simultaneously… Being the instigator…

But most of all, the real thing that sticks with him from the dream, is that he felt happy. 

IV shakes the thought away.

The next few days come and go. IV spends as much time as possible at the college, even when his classes are over. He uses the library to study in, and to also avoid being home. 

Oliver's barely said two words to him all week, which is probably for the best. But IV admits that it feels shitty. He misses him sometimes, even though he's basically two doors away. It's not the same anymore. 

It's probably for the best, he tells himself again. Oliver isn't good for him. Even the girls had said it, and they barely knew the details. 

He finally admitted that to himself. But turning his feelings off was a bit more challenging. 

He tries to put his focus on his classes and music instead. And he spends a lot of time now pondering over the meaning of his strange dreams. They haven't gone away, and if anything they have become more frequent. 

Funny, since his sleep schedule has just become more and more fucked up. Maybe there's a connection there, but he's not making it.

Oliver's had people over every night since. IV wonders if it's on purpose- if  it's spiteful- since he knew that IV was having trouble dealing with all the noise. 

IV just keeps to himself when he's home. He ignores all the random people he passes in the hallway, and tries to eat in his room as often as possible. He's resorted to PB&J sandwiches and takeout as often as he can afford, just so he doesn't have to cook or use the kitchen quite as much. 

If it's a rare day where he finds the house empty, he'll put on music and clean up everyone else's messes. He knows it's not his responsibility, but it gives him peace of mind to see the apartment looking decent once in a while. 

He showers early in the morning, when it's barely light out and before anyone else is awake, and then slips out of the house, quietly, like a ghost.

Sometimes, when he does run into Oliver, he gives IV this look. IV isn't great at reading people, but to him it looks like he's sad, maybe regretful… It looks like he misses him… But IV tries to pay it no attention, thinking that it's probably just his own mind playing tricks on him, hoping for something that will never happen. 

As soon as IV is outside, he instantly feels like he can breathe better. He's somehow lighter, not weighed down by the stress and emotions that are attached to the house. It sucks, but avoiding being home is the only relief he can find lately. 

He thinks about the girls, and how it's only been a week but he misses them. Mentally, he makes a note to text one of them soon and see if they can all meet up. 

Then he pauses, reaching into his pocket. Why not just do it now? 

He finds Winter's contact info and starts a new conversation, hoping that it's not too early to text her. 

She replies instantly, and IV breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Saturday morning? Same cafe as last time?”

He smiles at his phone, texting back. “OK, Saturday morning it is.”

III:

III is sitting in the park with the other travelers. It's still early but he planned to grab his bass off of Maisie's porch and give a shot at busking later. He would have to play it acoustically until he could afford an amp from a used music store or something though. 

And then he would need to search for  spots with outdoor electrical outlets that work… which is often much harder than it sounds. 

He's in his own head, trying to make a hypothetical plan, when Will nudges him with his elbow. 

“We're gonna go check out the docks. Wanna come?”

III shakes his head. “Nah, I think I'll just chill here.”

“Oh, well in that case, ya mind watching our stuff?”

III doesn't really want to, but he doesn't want to appear to be an asshole either, especially since they’ve been letting him camp in their spot. 

“Yeah, that's cool,” He ends up saying.

“Cool. We'll be back soon,” Will says, before tossing his bag on the ground next to III. A few others follow suit, dropping their stuff to the ground in a giant pile. 

“Thanks again,” Will says, patting III's shoulder as he leaves. III just nods and forces a slight smile. 

Once they leave, he lays back in the grass, face towards the sky. Great, now he's fucking stuck here. 

A long time seems to pass, and III isn't sure if it's because he's bored or if it's actually been that long. He stops staring at the passing clouds and finally sits up, looking around at the others lounging in the park. 

Where are they? It's been forever…

An older man approaches him, carrying a backpack of his own. He doesn't look like a traveler though, homeless maybe. III mentally kicks himself for thinking that. Who is he to say?

The man comes closer and then sits a few feet away from III, looking at him and then the surrounding packs on the grass. 

He shakes his head back and forth and tsks to himself. 

“What?” III asks, confused by the man's disapproval.

“Watching someones stuff?” 

“Yeah. Why?”

“They been gone long?”

III shrugs. “Not sure, but it feels like it.”

“That's a pain, isn't it?”

III narrows his eyes at him, “What are you getting at?”

“You're being too nice. Don't put up with that, they'll just take advantage of you.”

“No, they're not. I'm sure they're just… caught up with something.” III says, but he doesn't sound convincing. He doesn't even manage to convince himself that it's true. 

The man stands, going to leave. “Well, just remember, a nice traveler doesn't get very far.”

And then he's gone, leaving III to think about that in silence. 

That's not true, he thinks. You can be nice and still make it out here. He's met plenty of nice people…

But, it does feel like he's always stuck doing favors for people. Watching their dogs, watching their bags…

Right as he was about to get fed up, Will and the others return. III is relieved. Finally, he can go get his bass. 

He has a few hours until the church meal, where he will be helping Maisie to repay her. Hopefully that's enough time to find a spot and play for a bit. 

He tells the others that he'll see them at the meal, and then starts walking towards Maisie's. He sends her a text saying that he's on his way there, and she responds thanking him for the heads up, and saying that she is home at the moment. 

He finds his way, happy that he doesn't take any wrong turns. And then he's walking up the steps of the lilac house, opening the screen door. 

Maisie's sitting on her porch, curled up on the outdoor chair with a small book in her hand. When she sees III she smiles up at him. 

“About time,” she says. “I figured you'd be here first thing this morning with how excited you were!”

He laughs, “Trust me, I wanted to… just got tied up with something.”

“Everything alright?” She asks, suddenly  looking slightly concerned for him. 

“Oh, yeah. Everything's fine. Was just doing a favor for someone earlier… took longer than expected, is all.”

“Oh okay. Can I still expect you to help me later?”

“Yeah, I'll be there.” III walks over and grabs his bass. “Was gonna take this for a few hours and then bring it back before the meal.”

“Okay, don't have too much fun,” She teases. 

He chuckles. “I'll try not to. Enjoy your book.”

She smiles and goes back to reading, 

III walks to the busiest area of town that he's seen so far, an area filled with restaurants and bars. He picks a spot outside of a trendy-looking cafe, thinking that the workers probably wouldn't mind him playing out front. Hoping that, anyways. 

He sits down, picking a spot out of the way, and opens the case. He hasn't even familiarized himself with this new instrument of his yet, but he's happy that all of the strings are intact, and it's only slightly out of tune. 

Luckily for him, the cafe has free wifi. He quickly downloads a tuning app, and then plays a few pieces he knows by heart to warm up. 

Once he feels like he's warmed up, he tries to think of songs that a lot of people might recognize. 

He starts with “Billie Jean,” before transitioning to “Another One Bites The Dust.”

Midway through the second song, a couple people passing by come to a stop, pausing their walk and listening for a bit. Before they walk away, they toss a few loose bills into his open case. 

Apparently you can busk with a bass, he thinks, smiling to himself before playing “Seven Nation Army.”

He spends around an hour playing. Occasionally, generous people stroll past and add to the growing pile of loose bills and change in his case. He finishes up after “Feel Good Inc.” ends, and he's out of ideas on any more songs at the moment. 

He sets his bass aside, checking the time on his phone. It's almost time for him to meet Maisie back at the church. He gathers the money from his case, doing a quick count of the bills and throwing all the coins into his pocket for now. He made nearly thirty dollars, which, in his current circumstance, is pretty good. And that's not counting the change. He packs the bass up and starts walking back to Maisie's. 

He doesn't feel the need to text her this time, since he told her his plan earlier. She's probably at the church by now anyways. 

When he arrives, he sees that he was right- Maisie's car is gone, signaling that she has already headed to the church. 

He enters the porch, walking over and tucking his bass back into the corner. He goes to leave but stills for a moment first, looking over the cozy porch layout again. He's not sure why he likes it so much. Perhaps it's because it's the closest thing he's seen to a “home” in weeks. He could picture himself somewhere like this, someday- lounging in a cozy chair, surrounded by plants and warm lights, enjoying the fresh air but out of the harsh elements, maybe surrounded by people he cares about… Someone he loves….

He lives out his fantasy for a moment longer, then snaps himself back to reality, blinking away the visions in his head. 

He slowly steps towards the screen door, passing by the chair Maisie was in earlier. He glances down as he walks near, seeing the book she was reading sitting there, upside down. 

He doesn't know why he does it, he really shouldn't be snooping, but curiosity gets the best of him and he carefully picks the book up.

He flips it over, wondering what kind of literature Maisie reads in her free time. He's thinking memoirs, maybe self-betterment books, or perhaps something religious, based on where he met her. 

When he sees the cover, his eyes widen, taken back immediately. The cover is a photo of a man, muscular, toned and shirtless, holding a woman in his arms. The woman's in a beautiful, flowy, pink dress and she's looking up at the man, her blonde hair curling at the ends and framing her face. Both of their eyes are dark, cat-like, and their facial expressions rather lustful. It appears that they are standing on the edge of a lake, rippling water and a cinematic sunset in the background. The title, written in a metallic script that appears 3D, is “ Summer Heat.”

III chuckles to himself, flipping the book over and reading the description on the back. It's just as cheesy as he expects, detailing a woman who works on a lake for the summer and falls for a man who runs the local boat shop. 

III places the book back, exactly like he found it, facedown on the chair, and then heads out. 

Okay, that he did not expect, he thinks, still laughing to himself as he walks. He knows that girls like romance books, but Maisie? The girl he found at church? Maybe she's not the typical church girl. She's already been more than kind to him, but he thinks that maybe he wants to get to know her some more. She's interesting, different, and never fails to make him laugh. Out of all the people he has met through his travels, she seems the most genuine, and he's very thankful he met her.

 

At the church, he helps set up tables and chairs, then moves on to place takeout containers and utensils in their correct spots.

Maisie helps him, since he has no idea what he's doing.

“How'd it go today?” She asks, placing a pile of napkins near the utensils.

“Really good, actually. I made some money, and it was fun. I really missed playing.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

He wants to tease her about the book, but he's not sure if that would be overstepping boundaries. He already thinks of her as a friend, but they only just met and she might not feel that way too. His jokes might not land. So he keeps quiet, doing every task she asks him to. 

Once everything is set up, she walks back to him and pats his arm in a friendly gesture. “Thanks, III. I think that's everything.”

“You want me to help pick up afterwards too?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Well, we have a lot of hands tonight. If you wanna just come set up again tomorrow, that would probably be more helpful.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay! I gotta run, but enjoy the meal!” And then she's bolting away, off to do other things while III looks around and picks a table to sit at.

He's the first one seated since he helped set up, but he waits for Will and the others to join him before lining up and  getting food. 

III has no idea what most of the things on his plate are, but everything is delicious and despite telling himself to save some for later, he mows down his entire meal within minutes. 

“What'd you end up doing today?” Will asks. 

III smiles, actually excited to talk about his day. “I played outside a cafe. It went really well. Made a few bucks, and it was a good time.”

III expected Will to be happy for him, but he doesn't look too happy. 

“How much money ya make?”

III doesn't know why, but he has the sense that he shouldn't tell Will the truth. 

“Well, like fifteen bucks. But it's better than nothing, right?” III laughs, playing it off.

Will chuckles, “Sure is, just enough for a twelve-pack or a pack of smokes.”

III laughs softly, clearly catching the hint in Will’s voice. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Will smiles then.

III is torn, not actually wanting to spend his money on that shit, but also feeling like he can't say no. “So what do you think? Beer or smokes?” III asks. 

 

Back at the camp, III sets down a twelve-pack on the log, gesturing to everyone to grab one.

Will grabs one first, and passes a few around him to the others. “Thanks, III. How generous of you.”

“My pleasure.” 

The sun has gone down now and the only light is from the fire pit. III looks around at everyone, laughing and drinking and telling road stories. He should feel happy- feel at home with these people who are on the same path as him… But he doesn't. 

A strange feeling has washed over him tonight that he can't shake. But he can't place it or really describe it either. It's just unsettling, like his stomach is twisting. A strange mix of nostalgia, longing, homesickness, and an unknown eeriness… like his body is trying to warn him of something. 

He excuses himself to his sleeping bag and lays in the darkness, trying to think about why he's feeling this way.

He imagines this is how animals feel before an incoming storm. Something is brewing…

He rolls over, clears this thought from his mind, and ignores it until he falls asleep. 

Notes:

* Sorry for the delay, i got sidetracked with other stories & wrote some future sad scenes and it was bumming me out so i took a break

Chapter 11: Eleven

Summary:

a chapter for II :)

II:

Between drumming every spare minute, and starting a new gym routine, II is exhausted by the end of each day now. 

He only has a few more days left of his two-week trial of the sleep medicine, so he's sticking it out. 

But he wonders if he even needs it anymore.

He's been falling asleep faster and waking up later, which is what he wanted from the start. But he doesn't know if it's from the medicine or from his lifestyle changes now. 

He really doesn't want to, but he stays truthful to his oath to his doctor, giving it the full two weeks. He swallows down the medicine again before going to his bed. 

Only a few more days of this, hopefully. Then he can get off this shit. Drumming and the gym- that's all the medicine he needs. 

At least, he hopes it is. 

The last thought he has before he falls asleep is that he really likes his gym, and he's happy he joined. Everyone keeps to themselves, nobody picks fun at others- no matter their staying point-, and the space itself is really nice. He’s glad he found a good place to spend some time away from home.

He is pulled under shortly after that thought.

He's in a house- much bigger than his current place. He's tired, but keeps himself awake to try to see the ending of a movie. And he's not alone. There's three others here. He's leaning against one of them, laying his head on their shoulder. The other two are a few feet away, sharing an armchair which only works because one of them is smaller, almost as small as him. 

They're quietly talking about the movie amongst each other, and II can feel his eyes closing no matter how hard he tries to keep them open. He feels an arm fold over his shoulders, and then pull him in closer. II finally gives in, allowing himself to fall asleep against the other person.

 

Then, he's in a strange place. It looks like a mostly-empty storage unit disguised as a jamspace. There are instruments strewn about, a mediocre couch and a few somewhat-comfortable chairs. The room is brightly lit with overhead lights, and he's sitting beside someone on a piano bench before a keyboard. 

They're holding a notebook in their hands, and make a disgruntled noise before handing the book over. “Here, you read it and tell me if there's anything worth saving here. Personally, I think it's all shit.”

II laughs softly,”Don't be so dramatic. Your writing is always good. There's always something worth saving.”

The person next to him sighs. “Sorry, I'm not feeling very confident about any of this lately.”

II looks over the notebook, immediately liking what he sees. But as soon as he reads the words, the memory of them fades.

“Well, you should believe in yourself more. All of this is great, I wouldn't scrap any of it personally… but, it's your song. It's up to you.”

The person takes the notebook back. “Okay. Let's just start from the beginning again. Maybe I'll find a way to make the rest of it work.”

II smiles, waiting for the person to begin playing, and then he sings the first few words alongside them.

 

Then, he's sitting at a table in the kitchen. There is a ridiculous amount of balloons floating in the room, bumping into the ceiling, as well as a cake placed before him. The cake is… perfect. Yes, it might look like a five-year-old frosted it, but it's his favorite kind- double chocolate- and it's who made it that makes it even better. 

He waits for them both to stop singing a traditional birthday tune, then leans forward and blows out the candles while trying to hold back his smile.

Once the candles are out, they both clap and he chuckles at their enthusiasm. 

“Wait! Don't get up!” One of the two people exclaims, before quickly disappearing around the corner.

They rush back into the room and place a giant box on the table, before sliding the cake out of the way a bit. “Go on, open it!” They say.

II laughs, and then tears the wrapping paper apart. He opens the box and peers inside, shocked to see two records. Both records are from bands he's been enjoying lately- Muse and The Cure. 

He holds one up and inspects it, before doing the same with the other, a huge smile on his face the entire time. 

“Thank you guys,” He says. “You didn't have to get me anything… But, this is really nice. I can't wait to play them!”

His response is a series of hugs and forehead kisses, which he accepts and cherishes.

He's still looking at the records, reading the backs of them and skimming over the tracklists, when the other person finally speaks. 

“We may have another surprise for you… But we aren't sure just yet.”

He looks at them, confused. When they don't elaborate he turns back to the first person for answers. 

“We might have found him,” They say.

II's eyes widen in disbelief.

When II finally wakes, he's happy to see that it's seven- a healthy time to get up. 

He sits at the table, scrolling on his phone while his coffee brews. 

He thinks about today's plan. He wants to find a specific, well-known book he discovered about drumming. He's hoping the local library has it. That's his first task.

Then, he wants to go back to the gym. He's a little bit scared of how much he's loving both of his newfound hobbies. Drumming and the gym- both have taken a hold on his life in a matter of days. He supposes that's a good thing, since they are both healthy ways to spend his time. And it's better than taking sleeping pills, that's for sure.

When he thinks about sleeping, he starts to remember bits and pieces of his dreams. Singing with someone, looking over lyrics… cuddling on the couch with someone while watching a movie… and getting birthday gifts and even affectionate kisses and hugs afterwards….

What the hell was all of that about?

He tries to think of a rational reason for the dreams- like maybe his birthday is coming up, or he saw a new song from Muse get released recently, or he wanted to watch a new movie…. But unfortunately, none of those things are true. He can't think of any rational reason that could've led to those dreams.

He sips his coffee and dismisses his thoughts about it. It's probably just a rare side effect of that stupid sleep medication. It'll stop soon, surely, once he quits taking it.

When he thinks about the dreams stopping, he feels equally relieved and disappointed. They weird him out, and make him feel confused. But… he also slightly likes them. They are comforting, in a strange way, and make him feel less… lonely?

He didn't realize how lonely his life really was until now. 

He swallows down the rest of his coffee quickly, not wanting to waste any more time dwelling on this. He has shit to do. 

He quickly dresses, then grabs his wallet, phone, and keys before heading out the door. 

After a short walk to the local library, II arrives at the entrance and hesitantly pushes the door open. He's embarrassed to admit it, but he's never been in the local library before.

It's not very busy, so he decides to wander around a bit. He browses the new releases, and then ventures to the fiction section. One book catches his eye- a fantasy novel that is the first of a trilogy. He has no plans to get that invested in a series, but he sees that the workers are busy so he reads the summary on the back of the book. It sounds interesting to him, so he picks the book up, stuffing it under his arm. 

Once the workers are finally free, he approaches one- a younger woman with dark hair. “Excuse me,” He starts. “I'm looking for a specific book, but I'm not sure if you have it here.”

“Oh, okay! What's the title?”

II tells her, and she types away on her computer. 

“So, it's in our network, but not at this library.”

“Oh,” II tries not to let his disappointment show.

“You could request an interlibrary loan and have it shipped here, or you could go to the library it's currently at.”

“Okay, and where is that?”

“It's at the college library. We are in the same network, so your card would be valid there as well.”

II grimaces. “About that… I don't have a card yet.”

“Oh! Well we can get you one today, if you'd like!”

“Really?” II thinks about the fantasy book in his hands, and how he doesn't want to leave it behind. “That would be great.”

After he produces an ID, he leaves the library with a new library card and the fantasy book. Now he just needs to find the original book he was after. 

He debates taking the bus to the college, but decides he doesn't want to wait around and that the walk there and back would be a good warmup before the gym anyways. 

It takes him about thirty minutes to walk to the outskirts of town, where the college campus lies. 

He walks up the driveway, a long, straight, paved road that gives way to a cluster of large, impressive buildings. The architecture is very modern and striking compared to the rest of the buildings in town, which are older and almost always made of stone or brick. 

He's been here a few times, but he's not too familiar with the layout. He relies on signs to direct to him towards the library. 

Once he finds it, he slowly wanders inside, immediately noting how different this library is from the town's library. While the town library was dark, dimly lit and decorated with heavy wooden furniture, this library is nearly the opposite. Most of the walls are glass, letting in rays of natural light. The furniture is simple and minimalistic, and there's tables for students to use their laptops at.  Some tables are filled with groups of students quietly talking, and there's reading nooks with armchairs tucked away in the corners of the room. 

II tries to find the nonfiction section, and once he does, he looks again for the selection of books about music. 

He’s close to finding it, walking past books about painting and drawing. He knows it should be right around here somewhere…

He turns a corner, staring at the book titles as he walks, and suddenly bumps into something- no, someone. 

The person drops the things in their hands, and II gasps as his eyes widen, completely embarrassed. 

“Fuck, I'm sorry! Let me help you,” II quickly bends down to help the person pick their things up. II grabs a notebook, and a hardcover off of the floor. 

He stands back up, going to hand them over when he notices that the hardcover is a book about playing guitar. 

II finally glances at the person he bumped into. A man, about his height, with ashy, blonde hair and tired, blue eyes.

“I'm so sorry,” II says again.

The man looks at him oddly for a minute, then shakes his head slightly and sighs. “Don't worry about it,” He says. “I was half asleep, not looking where I was going.” 

II pauses a moment, feeling a weird wave of nostalgia come over him. II feels like he knows this person- their voice is so familiar. But after staring at him for probably too long, II knows he's never seen him before. 

II clears his throat. “I noticed you have a book on guitar.”

The man tilts his head, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind showing me where you got it? I'm looking for a book on drums.”

“Oh, sure,” He smiles slightly, “Follow me.”

He takes II down two more rows of bookshelves, and then they turn a corner. “The music books are all here,” He says, gesturing to the shelf. II can't help but notice how tired he sounds. His voice matches his eyes. 

“Thank you,” II says, smiling at him and trying to memorize his face.

“No problem,” He says. “Good luck with your drum lessons.”

Before II can correct him, he's walking away. II watches through the spaces in the bookshelves, seeing him find an armchair and plop down into it. He checks his phone, then puts it in his pocket. 

II refocuses, looking back towards the books. Finally, he sees the one he's been hunting for all day and grabs it. 

Okay, time to go , He tells himself. But he looks back at the guy in the chair once more. He's pulled his hoodie up over his head and is leaning to the side, using his arm as a pillow. And his eyes have fallen closed. 

II forces himself to look away, not wanting to get caught staring at a sleeping stranger. He takes the book to the librarian and checks it out, before quickly leaving the campus. 

As he walks away, he feels uneasy. That was weird, he thinks. He's never had a wave of nostalgia hit him that hard before. And then… his voice . II is sure he's heard it before. There was something else too, like an invisible pull towards him. Why couldn't he look away? He's never felt anything like that. 

II tries to clear his head. It was just a cute guy he met in the library, that's all. It could be just that. When was the last time II thought anyone was cute, or had a crush? He doesn't remember. Not for a long time though. 

He walks on autopilot towards the gym, with  time passing oddly as he fights with himself in his head. 

Once he enters the gym, he finds an empty locker and starts setting his things inside, careful not to crush his two loaned books. 

He decides to stick to just the cardio room today. He still hasn't asked anyone to help him learn how to use the machines in the weight room yet, and he's not feeling adventurous enough to try rock climbing or the pool right now  either. 

He pushes himself today, moving from the treadmill to the stair climber and then the rowing machine over a period of two hours. Once he is decidedly finished for the day, he goes to shower off and redress. 

As he's packing up his bag, the door opens and Dylan walks in. II gives a small smile in greeting, and Dylan walks his way.

“II! Good to see you again.”

“Thanks,” II says.

Dylan sets his stuff down on a bench and turns back to II. “How's it been going?”

II shrugs “Well, I really like it here, but I've pretty much only stuck to the cardio room so far.”

“Well, at least you've been showing up still,” Dylan laughs. “But, for real, if you want a buddy to explore the other rooms, just let me know.”

II's heart warms at his friendliness. “Yeah? I do want to branch out more soon…”

“Are you coming here tomorrow?” 

“I was planning on it,” II replies. “Why?”

“We could go to the rock climbing room together if you'd like? Or the weight room? Whatever you're most excited about.”

II is not used to this- to a stranger being so kind to him. He is initially happy, but then a wave of sadness settles over him. Who doesn't have a single friend at his age? A random worker from his gym showing him kindness is making him realize how pathetic he is. 

He brushes that thought off, trying to remind himself that things are looking up. He's sleeping better, found some new hobbies that he is enjoying, and he's already meeting more people now. All hope isn't lost yet. 

“It's hard to choose,” II says, after a moment.

“Well, think about it,” Dylan says. “Tomorrow, come find me and we can do whatever you want.”

II is having a hard time hiding his smile, but he's actually very happy about this development. Maybe they'll become  friends… and at the very least, he'll get some more helpful information about the gym. “Okay,” II says. “I'll find you tomorrow.”

“Great!” Dylan pats him on the shoulder before walking past him. “See you tomorrow, II.”

“See ya,” II says, casually. He grabs his bag and shuts the locker door, quickly leaving the gym, secretly feeling happier than he has in ages.

Once he's home, he takes the medicine and breathes out, heavily sighing. The events of today are finally hitting him.

He got his book, and even an extra book to read for fun. He successfully continued his gym routine, and possibly got closer to making a friend. And he saw that guy in the library… that charming, sleepy, oddly familiar guy . Even if it was at the cost of him embarrassing himself, he's glad it happened. He wouldn't take it back. Something about that moment is sticking with him, and he's having a hard time believing it's for no reason.

His appointment is soon, not tomorrow but the day after. He only has to take this medicine twice more, before he can tell his doctor he wants off the stuff..

He just really hopes he'll still be able to sleep without it 

Notes:

I'm back and hopefully will be updating this more regularly soon :) Sorry for the delay

Chapter 12: Twelve

Summary:

IV makes a mistake, so does III...
things look up a little for II

AKA THE LONGEST CHAPTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN

Notes:

*** important chapter warnings *** : drug use / dubious consent

 

Song list:
(chosen very intentionally based on lyrics)

IV:
I Found - Amber Run
White Blank Page - Mumford & Sons

III:
Ghost Towns - Radical Face
Song For The Ride - Hail Seizures

II:
What Love Is - Tom Gregory
Mr. Forgettable - David Kushner

IV: 

He jumps awake, his head slumping forward as he rests in the armchair. Fuck, he's still in the library…

He keeps falling asleep here lately. It's becoming a habit now that he's spending as much time at the college as possible. Clearly, he isn't getting enough sleep at home, but that's pretty hard to do when people are partying into the early morning every night.

He rubs his eyes, wiping away sleepy-seeds and trying to wake himself up.

It's fairly late now, he's one of the only people still here. He knows he has to leave soon before they lock up for the night, so he starts packing his bag.

He’s had more strange dreams again recently, with the same two, or sometimes three, people. But this time,  the dream was slightly different.

Instead of the people all being faceless and mysterious, one of them did have a face- the face of the guy he bumped into here earlier in the day.

He pauses, thinking back on the dream. 

 

IV watches them leave, giving them a quick goodbye kiss before waving them off. They shut the door behind them and IV instantly drops his fake smile, quickly heading to his bedroom. 

Someone is following him, he can hear their light footsteps tailing him down the hallway. 

When IV gets to his room, he goes to his bed and collapses onto his mattress stomach-first. He breathes out, his face smushed into his pillow. He only moves when he hears that person talking to him. 

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” IV mumbles.

They laugh. “That won't work on me. I know you too well.”

IV rolls over, sighing and staring at the ceiling. “It's stupid…”

The person comes over and sits on the edge of his bed. “So what if it is? Tell me anyways,” They urge.

“You saw how excited he was when he left…” IV starts. “I don't know… I guess I'm just paranoid that she's more than his friend.”

The figure laughs abruptly, then quickly stops, bowing their head and covering their mouth with their hand. 

IV expected as much. He knows he's being crazy.

“IV,” They start, placing a hand on his arm. “You can't be serious.”

IV shrugs.

“You know their history. He's told us. If it wasn't for her, he probably would have never even met us. She's really important to him.”

IV knows this is true, but with the way things went in his past, he's still skeptical. “I know… But I'm still worried about it. I can't turn it off.”

They go on. “Of course he's happy. Imagine if someone that helped you so much, during such a pivotal point in your life, moved away and only came to visit a few times a year. You'd be thrilled too.”

IV sits up finally, looking at the other person face to face. “I know I'm being ridiculous,” IV says. “It's completely normal, but…” He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

“It's okay,” They say. “But I promise you, he's gonna come back to us tonight and tell us all about what they got up to. It's no cause for concern, okay?”

IV smiles a little, finally feeling a bit better. “Yeah, okay.”

“So in the meantime, what do you wanna do tonight?”

IV shrugs again. “What I wanna do is boring.”

“Doesn't matter,” They say. “Whatever it is, we can do it.”

IV tries to hide his smile. “I want to do laundry, tidy up, sweep and mop, and then eat a huge bowl of pasta while we watch TV.”

The figure laughs, “Of course you do. Come on, then. I'll help you.”

IV smiles brightly, hopping off the bed and heading towards the laundry room, the other person following him closely behind.

They do house chores for a few hours before the other person turns to him. “So, what kind of pasta?” 

IV thinks about it for a moment. “Chicken Alfredo?”

“You got it,” They say, smiling. “You go relax, find something for us to watch while I cook. It won't be that long.”

IV nods, “Okay.”

He is indecisive at first, but eventually settles on a cartoon, “ Scooby Doo on Zombie Island .”

He's watching the beginning, totally immersed even though he's seen it a million times. Then he hears a soft chuckle. He turns to the doorway and sees the figure balancing two plates miraculously in their hands. 

“Scooby Doo? Really?”

IV can feel his face redden. “It's a comfort show…”

They don't make fun of him for it, only smile back before handing him a plate. “Here you are.”

IV takes it, and they sit down next to him on the couch. Together, they eat their pasta and watch Scooby Doo, laughing at the childish jokes and enjoying their dinner.

IV feels much better. All of the anxiety from earlier has simply washed away. Right now, he is totally content having a boring but surprisingly fun night with the person beside him. 

“Thank you,” He quietly says to them, putting his empty plate on the couch. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

They smile, and IV thinks that even their eyes look happy too. “I try my best.”

IV laughs quietly, reaching over and placing a hand under their chin, bringing their face to his. He kisses them, softly and slowly. When they pull away, they stare into IV's eyes. “Let's go to bed. He'll come find us when he's back.”

IV nods, agreeing.  They take their empty plates to the kitchen sink before making their way towards IV's room.

 

IV blinks, snapping out of his dream-memories. 

The guy who cooked him dinner was the guy from the library. 

Weird , he thinks, but probably just a coincidence. He’s read that dreams tend to stem from what's going on in reality, so he's sure that it's just because he literally just ran into that guy. 

But there was something else strange about that encounter. IV recognized the man's voice and his mannerisms- he was sure they had a class together or something. But after thinking about it more, he realized that wasn't true. He's never seen him at the college before. 

So where did he know him from then? Maybe he worked at the coffee shop, or his local bank or supermarket. It could be anywhere, but no matter how much IV tried, he couldn't place him.

It was starting to drive him a bit crazy when he brainstormed for the entire walk home and still was left clueless as he walked up the front steps.

He hears muffled music from outside the house, so he mentally prepares himself for what he's about to walk into- probably a crowd of people, music blasting, and a buffet of alcoholic beverages 

Mentally, and physically, he's exhausted. 

He's tired of avoiding Oliver, tired of avoiding his home…

He wishes everyone would find somewhere else to go each evening, someone else to keep awake for days on end…

He feels like he's almost at his breaking point. He can't take much more of this. 

When he walks inside, everyone is  crowding around the kitchen. He quickly realizes it's because there's several lines of powder laid out on the counter. 

IV looks at the lines, watching a girl lean over and snort one in one swift movement.

“Want some?” Amber offers, after seeing IV staring.

He blinks slowly, considering. “What is it?”

“Like a knockoff Molly,” she answers, shrugging, like it's a completely normal conversation.

  He does want some. 

He just wants to leave his body and his mind for a brief time…

He slowly nods, and Amber gestures for him to take a turn.

He picks up a rolled up dollar bill from the counter before leaning over, covering one nostril, and snorting it, not worrying at all about the consequences until afterwards. 

As the minutes pass, he begins to think it's not working. 

Maybe this shit’s fake, he thinks. Faker than an already artificial drug. 

But then it suddenly hits him. 

And then he's on cloud nine, just floating, happy as could be… warm and cozy and content…

Colors are more vibrant and sounds are more interesting... Everything is more interesting.  He's having conversations with people he would normally shrug off, talking about things that don't usually interest him.

And then he hears something that makes him even more happy- the music coming from Oliver's room.

 He wanders to the room and sees the door open. He casually walks inside, as if it's his own room and he's not intruding. Oliver is sitting on his bed talking to James. The room is dimly lit by strands of orange Christmas lights. Or maybe Halloween lights?   They're sitting close together, talking quietly, looking up at him as he walks inside the room, but IV doesn't even consider that he might be interrupting something. 

He goes straight to Oliver, kneeling down on the bed to straddle his legs, not thinking about the fact that James is still there to witness it. 

Oliver laughs, placing his hands on IV's hips while noting IV's strange behavior.  “Did you take something?” Oliver asks, squinting and studying his face, which is only inches from his own.

IV giggles back, failing to hide his smile. “Maybe.”

Oliver gazes into IV's eyes, which currently have pupils like saucers. “You fucking did,” Oliver laughs again, and IV stares back at him in adoration. He hesitates for just a moment before pulling IV into a kiss. 

IV is one hundred percent happy at this moment. James is there, next to them, but IV still doesn't process that. All that he cares about is Oliver, and their lips that are pressed together, and their bodies that are touching, and that music that's playing…

What was that music again? 

IV doesn't find the answer. 

Oliver's hands are on him, and then he's lost, barely recognizing what's happening around him.

Oliver's hands are on him,

and then James’ are too…

The next morning,  he wakes up alone in Oliver's bed again.

He's thirsty and his entire body is sore and his head hurts, really fucking bad. 

He grabs the nearest bottle of water on the floor, gulping it down as if he's been stranded in a desert. 

His head keeps pounding. 

He later learns this is from the drugs.  “ It makes your brain dump all your dopamine, that's why you get so happy. But then you'll feel like shit after when your brain is trying to recover, trying to replace all of the happy chemicals you just used up,” Amber explained.

IV goes to leave Oliver's room and hears several muted voices coming from the living room, and they're clearly talking about him. 

“Yeah, well I didn't realize he was such a slut,” someone says, laughing. 

“He's not. Not usually” Oliver says. “He was just fucked up… And he's got a thing for me, you know that.”

IV pauses, his hand on the doorknob. He inhales sharply, as if he's not sure he just heard correctly. 

“You really got lucky on that deal,” Oliver says, laughing, and IV assumes he's talking to James. 

Then he just hears more laughter.

That hurts.

IV can't escape to his room from here without them noticing him, but he doesn't have any other choice. He can't stay in here any longer- he feels like he's suffocating. The room smells like him and Oliver and…

He can't breathe. 

He swings open the door, casting a quick glance to the living room before hurriedly walking to his room and slamming the door shut. 

He can still hear their voices, even though they are more muffled now from behind the door. 

“Great. He fucking heard us…” Oliver groans.

IV sits on his bed and just tries to breathe. He's on the verge of tears. 

Why the fuck did he do that last night? 

And he was doing so good at ignoring him.

And James… 

IV feels sick thinking about it. 

He didn't even like James like that. 

He just wanted Oliver…

And now he's just their laughingstock.

Fuck, he just made everything so much worse. 

IV tries to calm down, but it hardly works.

IV chokes out a sob that is entirely embarrassing. He grabs a pillow and shoves it to his face, hoping it'll hide the sound. 

Why the fuck did he do that? He asks himself again. 

Two sets of hands on him…. It felt like the dreams…

But it wasn't. It wasn't the same. Not at all.

He feels gross. He wants to shower, but he doesn't want to leave his room. 

He feels… used. 

Not in the way that he thinks he likes, but in a way that he never wants to experience again.

He wants to go back to sleep. 

He wants to be with the mysterious people in his dreams, who always know how to make him feel better. 

The next day, IV waits until the house is ghostly quiet before he dares to creep open his door.

He peers out behind the cracked door to his bedroom, not seeing anyone and taking it as a sign that they've all left. He exhales, going to shower as fast as possible before leaving the house. 

He's supposed to meet the girls for coffee today.

After he slept the entirety of yesterday away, he still doesn't feel any better. He still feels gross and regretful. He should've never taken whatever the hell that was… He should've known better… Should've known it wouldn't end well…

He did have more dreams though, and they were really pleasant- a stark comparison to his real life currently. If he just ignores the fact that they are truly strange, then he actually loves the dreams. Yesterday, while he slept the day away, he played guitar with one of them, took a hike to the tower, baked some cookies, helped decorate a bedroom, and even went shopping… Small, normal things, but he remembers feeling really happy as he was doing them. He’s pretty sure that the guy from the library was there again- shopping with him and baking cookies. He still doesn't know why he is suddenly showing up in the dreams now. Who even was he? 

Once he successfully scrubs himself raw in the shower, he gets dressed and packs a small bag. 

He debates going to the pharmacy, wanting to buy makeup to hide the redness on his face that was caused by crying so much over the last two days. But, he's not good with makeup and he doesn't know what products to buy…so he skips it for now and just heads to the coffee shop.

He hangs around outside for a few minutes, until he sees the three of them walking his way. He lets out a breath of relief, happy to see the only people he really feels comfortable around.

“IV!” Winter says, smiling as she approaches him. But then she gets closer and notes his appearance, puffy eyes and dark circles, and a generally sad demeanor. Her smile drops. “Oh, honey… What's wrong?”

As soon as IV hears those words, his lip quivers and his eyes begin to water.  He tries to blink the tears away, but completely breaks down, not able to hold himself back anymore. He ends up sobbing in Winter's arms as she gently pats his back. Sasha and Chloe are looking towards them with sympathetic, confused faces, like they want to help but don't know how. That's okay, IV thinks, he doesn't know how to help himself either.

He pulls himself together enough to pull back from Winter a little, just enough to look at her. “Do you know what makeup to buy to fix this?” He gestures to his red, tear-streaked, face, and Winter looks even sadder now. She grabs his hand, “Yes. Come on, we're getting coffee and then going to the pharmacy, and then we're cheering you up.”

IV nods, sniffling quietly and wiping his face on his shirt sleeve. Winter tugs him towards the coffee shop entrance, and Chloe and Sasha follow closely behind them. 

III :

III sighs, lifting his tarp and letting water pool down the side of it and onto the ground. 

The weather hasn't been great lately, and last night it rained for hours on end. It only let up this morning, right as he woke up. His sleeping bag is soaked as well as the clothes he is wearing. Luckily, everything in his pack remained dry. He's glad now that he paid more for a waterproof one. 

He needs to hang the sleeping bag so that it will hopefully dry out by tonight. This area of the woods doesn't get that much sunlight though, so he is skeptical of that happening by sundown. 

He thinks of a quick plan. Maybe he could go grab his bass, busk for a few hours, and get enough money to use the laundromat. He could wash his clothes and throw the sleeping bag in the dryer. Wishful thinking, but not impossible after the outcome of the other day. He wishes now that he wasn't quite so friendly- if he had saved that money instead of buying beer for everyone, he wouldn't even have to worry about this right now. 

But, it's good to be on good terms with the other travelers. He briefly wonders what their plan is- if they're going to stick around much longer or move on soon. Then he thinks the same about himself. He doesn't have the persistent urge to move on like he usually does, but he hasn't exactly found a good reason to stay here yet either.  He could go either way.

III strings his tarp and his sleeping bag up in the trees so that they will dry as much as possible while he's gone. Then he grabs his pack and starts heading towards Maisie's. Everyone else is still sleeping, so he doesn't tell anyone where he's off to.

He texts Maisie on the way, letting her know that he is coming to pick up his bass. 

She replies quickly, and he's hoping he didn't wake her. 

When he arrives at her house, she is sitting on the chair on the porch like previous times.

She looks at him and shakes her head, “Oh, III….”

He looks at her, questioningly. “What?”

“You poor thing, you're soaked.”

“Oh,” he looks down at his clothes. “Yeah, that's why I'm here so early. I need to try to make some money to use the laundromat. My sleeping bag is soaked too.”

Maisie looks saddened, and then contemplative. “Well… You could just use my machines,” She says. “I'm leaving soon, you'd have the whole place to yourself today.”

III pauses,  waiting to make sure he heard her correctly. She just stares at him though.

“Maisie, have you lost your god-damned mind?!” He immediately cringes at his choice of curse word, but Maisie doesn't seem to care. Instead, she laughs. 

“No, why”

He looks at her like she's gone crazy. “You can't just let random people into your house and leave- you'll get robbed!” At this point, III is actually worried about her judgment. 

She just laughs again. “That's exactly how I know I can trust you, III. If you were going to rob me, you wouldn't warn me beforehand, now, would you?”

She's got a point, but III still thinks she's being far too nice, too generous.

“You really don't have to offer that…” III eventually says. “I know you mean well, but that's just… too much.”

“I know I don't have to, ” Maisie says. “But I like you, III. You're a good person.”

“You barely know me still!” He argues. 

Maisie just smiles at him. “Well, the offer still stands. You can go busk and then find a laundromat, or you could go get your stuff, use my laundry machines, watch tv, eat a snack, play your bass… I don't know, just take a day off from the outdoors. And it's going to rain again soon, if the weather man is right anyways.”

III can't lie- all of that does sound really nice, especially since he's still in his wet clothes and is growing colder by the minute. And if it is going to rain again, he can't use his bass to busk anyways unless he plans on ruining it. 

III groans,  then rolls his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I'll be back shortly.”

Maisie smiles brightly, happy to have finally convinced him. “Great! I'll be waiting.”

III hightails it back to the camp while the rain is holding off. He grabs his sleeping bag, rolling it up and fastening the straps closed before attaching it to his pack. 

As he's loading up, Will looks at him from his spot near the fire. “Where ya off to?”

“Oh,” III says, “Gonna go to a friend's for a bit...”

“Huh,” Will says, looking like he's deep in thought. 

“I'll be back tonight, though,” III says, trying to hurry up and leave. He's got an uneasy feeling that Will or one of the others might ask to tag along, and he knows Maisie wouldn't be cool with that. And he's not about to ruin a good thing. 

“Right,” Will says. “See ya later, then.”

“See ya,” III says, starting down the trail to town before anyone can say anything else to him. 

He shouldn't have to feel like this, he thinks. It feels like he's walking on eggshells around them. They're unpredictable, and one wrong move means he's out of a campsite. 

He sighs, wishing he wasn't in this situation. This wasn't what he imagined when he set off on this trip. Then again, he didn't think too much about it. He researched gear, train routes, and possible travel routes throughout the East- but he wasn't exactly sure what type of people he was going to encounter. 

If he's learned anything from the last few weeks, it's that he doesn't really fit in with the other travelers. Sure, he's met some cool people, but a majority of them just make him sad. They spend their days focused on just scrounging up enough money to buy some weed or beer- just to have ‘one more night of fun’. They claimed to have rejected societal norms, in favor of living day to day, adventure to adventure. But..  they're not really having any adventures at all. They're just doing the same shit they would be doing in their hometowns….

But he's not like them. That wasn't his reason for this trip. He is planning to find his place someday- he just wanted to wander around a bit until it called to him. He does want to find his place in society, something that makes him fulfilled, to have a house of his own someday with the white-picket fence, and someone to come home to in the evenings…

He just wants a simple, normal, happy life. And that was never going to happen back home. 

With the entire walk being spent in his head, he arrives back at Maisie's faster than he realized. He even forgot to text her, so he hesitantly knocks on her front door instead.

She opens it, “You didn't change your mind. Good.”

He laughs. “Nope. You sold me.”

She laughs. “ I'm glad. You deserve a break.” 

III doesn't argue with her, but he debates in his own head if that statement is true. 

“Follow me,” She says.

III does. 

“Here's the living room,” She gestures around to a cute, cozy room that is filled with tapestries and plants. The couch is covered with brightly colored throw pillows and soft throw blankets. There's a round, braided rug before the couch, and the couch sits opposite from her television stand.

Beside the couch is a small bookshelf, overflowing with small paperbacks. There's also a box of books on the floor beside it.

“Cute,” III says, smirking. He is being playful, but he honestly does think it's cute. Cute, colorful, and cozy and one-hundred-percent Maisie .

Maisie rolls her eyes. 

“The kitchen’s just through here,” She goes on, walking through the doorway. III follows and looks over the room. It's a small, basic kitchen- neat and organized and very clean, with a collection of house plants spread throughout the room. There's a small, bistro sized table set up near the windows. 

“And the laundry machines are back here,” She says. He peeks his head around the corner and sees a set of older style washing machines- but to him they look as good as top-of-the-line, modern machines. He's very excited to get these wet clothes off of him. 

“Couple more things,” Maisie says. They go back to the kitchen and she points to the cupboard and fridge. “You can eat anything you find. I don't care. I'm not attached to any of it if it's still here,” She laughs. “Just don't burn the house down please.”

“I won't, I promise.”

Maisie exhales dramatically. “Phew!”

They go back towards the living room and she points to two more doors. “That one is the bathroom. You can shower- all the towels in there are clean. I only have girly products though, sorry.”

III laughs, “You do not need to apologize for that.”

She smiles, then points at the last door. “That door goes to my bedroom, so that's off limits.”

“Got it,” III says.

“Okay, cool. Questions?”

III thinks for a moment. “What time will you be back again? And can I have your WiFi password?”

It would be nice to catch up on his phone for a bit without the worry of getting kicked out of a coffee shop. 

“Yeah, give me your phone,” Maisie says. He hands it over and she quickly connects his phone to the WiFi. “I shouldn't be back until about five thirty… Definitely enough time for a shower and a load or two or laundry.”

He takes the phone back and stares at her in silence for a moment. “Thank you, Maisie. Really, this is beyond helpful.”

She gives him a cheery smile. “Of course!” She glances at her wristwatch. “I should be going, but text me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

“See ya later, III!” She calls as she disappears through the front door.

The door clicks shut and III looks around. The house is quiet. 

He stands there, still, for a moment, just taking it in. 

This is so fucking weird, he thinks. 

Not weird being in Maisie's house, but weird being in a house at all after so long. 

It's nice. 

He wants to collapse onto the couch, but fears getting her couch dirty or wet. So the first thing he does is shower and change.

He spends close to thirty minutes in the shower, savoring the feeling of the warmth creeping back into his bones. 

It's a small reminder that he has to move south soon, or make a plan here. It's only going to get colder. 

He doesn't waste too much time worrying about that though. He scrubs his hair clean and rinses it out, finally turning the shower off. 

Once he's dressed, he throws his wet clothes in the washer, along with some dirty clothes from his pack. He'll have to wash his sleeping bag separately since it's so large. 

He sets a timer on his phone for when to switch machines, and then finally sits down on the couch, which is all he's wanted to do since he saw it. 

He plugs his phone in to charge, and then turns on the TV. He flicks through the channels for a bit, before landing on a comedy from the nineties.

He watches, settling back into the couch cushions. He hears the rain start up again outside, and he is so, so happy he is in here instead. 

He curls his legs up on the couch, grabbing one of the blankets and covering himself with it. It's still early, just about nine. He has time for a little nap. 

 

When his timer goes off and pulls him out of sleep, III gasps, startled. Something is on him! He opens his eyes and sits up abruptly, tossing whatever was on him off onto the floor. 

He looks down, and is faced with a very frazzled and grumpy looking tuxedo cat. 

“Holy shit!” III says, holding his chest, “You scared the shit outta me, buddy!” 

The cat just looks at him, blinking slowly. 

“I'm sorry,” III says. “I didn't mean to toss you like that.”

III swears the cat squints at him, looking annoyed.

III sits back down. “Wanna come back up?” He pats the couch cushion next to him, and after the cat contemplates for a moment, it eventually hops back onto the couch and lays next to III. 

III reaches a hand out, letting the cat sniff him before going to give it a pet.

The cat allows it, so III spends a good few minutes petting the cat and giving it head scratches.

Then he remembers his laundry. “I'll be right back,” III says to the cat, leaving it on the couch. 

He switches the laundry over and throws his sleeping bag in the washer, setting another timer on his phone. Then he texts Maisie. “I'm hoping you have a cat? Either that or you have a new roommate it seems.”

She texts back almost immediately. “Omg! I forgot to tell you. Sorry! Yes, that's Bandit! He's a little moody, but he usually likes people.”

“He was sleeping on top of me.”

Maisie sends back the laughing emoji. “Not surprised. He's really lazy.”

III sends back a few laughing emojis, and then gets back to the living room. Bandit is now sleeping on the couch, and III's lost interest in the movie. But he really needed that nap, he feels ten times more energized now. 

He raids Maisie's fridge and cupboards, finding enough ingredients to make a thorough breakfast. He cooks up eggs and bacon, as well as some diced potatoes. 

He tosses Bandit a tiny piece of bacon, after obsessively googling if it was okay to do so. Bandit was at his feet, begging while he ate, and III could only deny him for so long. 

After he clears his plate, he washes all of his dishes and makes sure to clean up his mess. He wants to leave this place as spotless as he found it. 

He switches the laundry again, and folds his clothes before neatly repacking them into his bag. 

Now what? He thinks. 

His sleeping bag was now in the dryer, and it was only around one o'clock. 

He still has hours to do whatever he pleases, and he plans to fully take advantage of that. He doesn't think an opportunity like this will present itself again anytime soon. 

He grabs his bass from the porch, bringing it inside and playing for a while. He plays some established songs, but also messes around with some original pieces too. 

When that grows boring, he uses the wifi to play some music on his phone, laying on the couch and just listening. It's been forever since he had the chance to do that. 

His stomach starts rumbling again, breaking him out of his trance. He sits up, looking back towards the kitchen and contemplating what else he could make. 

He sees enough ingredients to make a strange version of burritos- beans, tortillas, jalapeno peppers, sour cream, cheese, onions, and hot sauce. He quickly gets to work, preparing a late lunch. 

Bandit tries to mooch off of him again, but this time III exercises more authority. “No, Bandit. This isn't kitty food. I'm sorry.”

Bandit glares at him, before wagging his tail with attitude and going back to nap on the couch. III chuckles. 

III takes a moment to appreciate how nice it is to eat in private. It's been a long time since he's done so. He looks at the clock and notes that he will be missing all of the free meals today, but he isn't upset by that. He's happier eating here, alone… Or at least mostly alone. Even Bandit begging for food is better than eating in an open room surrounded by strangers. 

Once he's finished eating again, he feels a type of tiredness he hasn't felt in a while. He thinks he's in a food coma. 

He goes to the couch, making Bandit move over enough to share the space. He just needs to lay down for a little bit. 

He'll take another nap, then clean up his dishes, he thinks. 

He sets an alarm on his phone for an hour from now, and then lays down, feeling his eyes slowly drift closed.

The alarm wakes him, and this time he is not frightened by the fact that Bandit is snuggled up close to him. 

3:00 p.m.

He still has enough time to clean up, so that's his first order of business.

He washes his dishes, again, placing everything back exactly from where it came.

He still has about two hours until Maisie is back, and he's shocked to admit it, but he's out of ideas of what to do.

He should probably spend this time researching travel routes out of here, or jobs and housing listings if he decides to stay…

But, that sounds boring and terrible, like the last thing he wants to do right now. Instead, he sits on the couch, petting Bandit for a bit while spacing out.

Then his eyes land on Maisie's bookshelf. He has a thought that he tries to shut down, but it doesn't work. 

He sighs to himself, giving in and  grabbing one of the small paperbacks, flipping it open to the first page.

These things are probably so cheesy, he thinks. He reads the first page, and his assumptions are correct, but for some reason he still can't put the book down. Cheesy or not, it has grabbed his attention. 

III is so into the story, that he doesn't realize the time until the door slowly opens and Maisie walks in.

He looks at her, book in hand, completely embarrassed and caught red-handed. 

She looks at the scene before her- III involved in one of her romance books, with Bandit cuddled up next to him on the couch, and chuckles.

“Well,” She says, “this is surely something.”

III feels his face go red. He tries to save himself. “I was going to make fun of you for these books, but they're actually pretty good.”

Maisie laughs, then points at him, wagging her finger. “That's right- don't knock ‘em ‘til you try ‘em.” Then she smiles, looking at her bookshelf. “Wanna take one for the road? I have a bunch I've already read that I was going to donate soon.”

III contemplates even answering, but eventually pushes past his embarrassment and replies honestly. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Maisie bends down, pulling a box from the floor and setting it before III. “These are all the ones I've already read, take your pick. It's great that they are so small too- they shouldn't add much weight to your bag.”

III glances down at the box of small books. It's nearly overflowing, so he takes his time and picks the one that looks the most interesting. It's adorned with a cliche western title, with an equally cheesy photo on the cover, but the plot sounds intriguing and that's all he cares about. 

“I'll take this one for now, thanks.”

Maisie beams. “Great! Well I'll hold off on donating these in case you want to trade it out in a few days.”

The sincerity in her voice, and the generosity from Maisie throughout this entire day, leaves III a bit glassy-eyed and speechless. 

He sets the book to the side, standing before her. 

She looks around. “Thanks for not burning the place down, and for keeping Bandit company.”

III chuckles, almost in disbelief. “I should be thanking you… This was the best day I've had in forever,” III admits. “It was really nice to just feel normal again for a while… And… it was really nice to get out of the rain.” 

Maisie looks even happier now. “I'm glad, really.”

III glances towards the kitchen, double checking that he put everything away. “I ate a lot of your food though.”

Maisie laughs, “Good! It would've expired soon anyways!”

III smiles back, still standing awkwardly in front of her. “Can I give you a hug?”

Maisie looks taken back for a second, before tilting her head and peering up at him. “Of course, III.” She opens her arms and he wastes no time, quickly enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Thank you so much, Maisie,” III says quietly. “It probably doesn't seem like much to you, but really, this meant a lot.”

“Trust me, I know it does, III. I'm glad I could give you this.”

III pulls away before his eyes tear up anymore. “Well, I should get back to camp… I told everyone I'd be back….”

III puts his bass back on the porch, before grabbing his pack that is full of freshly-washed clothes. He attaches his sleeping bag to the straps on his pack and picks up the small paperback, making sure to pack that as well. 

“I'll see you tomorrow at the meal?” Maisie asks.

“I'll be there,” III says. He gives her a wave goodbye and then goes to the front door, but Maisie stops him. 

“Wait! Your jacket!”

III turns back to her, and she's holding out his jacket to him. He takes it. “Thank you,” He says. 

“Have a good night, III.”

“You too.”

 

As III walks back towards the camp, he grows cold now that the sun is setting. He sets his pack on the sidewalk to put his jacket on. He zips it, throwing the hood over his head and then adjusts it. He reaches into his pockets and feels something unusual. He reaches around a moment before pulling out a folded twenty dollar bill. 

What the hell?

And then it dawns on him.

“Wait! Your jacket!”

Maisie .

He's almost annoyed. She can't keep doing stuff like this. He hasn't done anything to deserve such kindness. 

He pulls out his phone and texts her as he walks. 

“Did you really think I wouldn't notice an extra twenty in my pocket?”

Maisie sends back a shocked face. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He huffs, tapping his phone harder. “Nice try. I know it was you.”

Then he waits a moment before sending a follow-up. “Thanks, though.”

Maisie sends back a smiley face. “You earned it. You technically were my pet-sitter for Bandit all day.”

He knows that's just her excuse for giving him a handout, but it does make him feel slightly better about it. He thanks her again and then tries to clear his head.

Back at the camp, there are signs that it has rained all day. Everyone's stuff is still hanging to dry, and III feels pretty guilty looking around at it while all of his belongings are freshly washed and dry. He tries not to mention it, and hopes nobody notices. 

He sets his tarp back up and puts his pack beneath it, then goes and sits around the fire with the others. 

They might be wearing damp clothes, but they look in good spirits. They're all laughing and telling stories with big smiles on their faces. They managed to get more beer somehow, as they always do, and a joint is being passed around but III declines on the offer when they extend it to him. 

When he's asked how he spent his day, he is brief and vague. “Just helped a friend with an errand,” He says. It's not totally a lie- he did watch Bandit. But deep down he knows that can't really be considered work or an errand- cuddling with a sassy cat all day in a warm, cozy house. But he doesn't tell them the details. 

He hangs out with them until his eyes start to burn, then goes and crawls into his sleeping bag. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent, trying to savor it since he has no clue when he'll get to do laundry like this again, especially free of charge. He replays his day over and over in his head- it was the best day he's had in weeks. When he realizes that, it only solidifies the realization that he isn't meant to be a traveler. He misses having a home, stability, a routine. He sighs to himself, rolling over. He needs to decide what to do soon- very soon. Stay or go? 

 

In the morning, he wakes and stretches. The sun is finally back, and he couldn't be more happy to see it. 

The others wake one by one and join him near the fire that is smoldering now. 

Will makes smalltalk with him and III gets an uneasy feeling again. Lately, Will has been acting more and more irrational and unpredictable. He doesn't know if it's from the uptick in alcohol consumption, or if he's secretly doing something else, but either way, it makes III a bit nervous to talk to him. 

He's seen him fly off the handle over simple things, harass regular people on the street when they won't hand over their loose change, and even get in arguments with the other travelers over simple miscommunications. III doesn't know what has changed since he first met him, but something has. 

“I was thinking about flying a sign at the lights this morning,” III says. “Maybe scrounge up enough money for some takeout.”

That's another lie. In reality, III is looking for an excuse to explain the twenty dollars that Maisie gave him that won't rouse suspicion. And he wants to get away from the camp for a while to just think. 

“Oh yeah?” Will says, “That's a good idea.”

III nods, smiling. “If you guys watch my stuff, I'll try to get enough for a pizza or something for all of us.”

Today, III's body hurts from sleeping on the ground and he really, really doesn't  want to carry his pack around. If they were going to hangout here anyways, he figured they could just keep an eye on it instead. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Will says. 

“Is pizza okay?” III asks. 

“I'd never deny free pizza.”

III laughs. “Great,” He stands. “I'll be back in a few hours then.”

III spends a long time just walking around the town, alone with his thoughts. It's been so easy to move on from every other town, but something here is making it harder.

He knows it's not Maisie. As great as she is, that isn't the reason and he knows it. It's something else... But what? 

He walks by some cute restaurants, and a small venue that looks interesting called Cici’s. He reads the posters on the windows that are promoting their upcoming shows. Someday, he would like to be part of something that's listed on a show flier. He wonders if he got serious and practiced enough, if he could really make that happen. 

Then, he ventures on. He walks past a music store and decides to take a look inside. He opens the door, right as a shorter person with their hood up scurries past him, leaving with a few pairs of new drumsticks in hand. He walks around and admires their basses hanging on the wall, even though he is still quite happy with his secondhand, tag-sale bass. One day though, he will be able to buy a brand new one, he thinks. 

Moving on, he leaves the music store and walks by a record store that is about to open for the day.  He debates going in, but it would be useless. He doesn't even have a home right now, let alone a record player. There would be no point. He sees the tall shadow of a figure behind the opaque glass, seemingly organizing the shelves before they open. He could find a job like that too, if he wanted. It couldn't be too hard in a city like this.

He sighs, combing his fingers through his hair. He glances at his phone, seeing if enough time has passed to where he could pass off the twenty dollar bill that Maisie gave him as money he made while spanging. 

And he's in luck, because more time has passed than he thought. It's nearly three now. 

He finds the nearest, cheap pizza joint, and orders the biggest pepperoni pizza that twenty dollars will get him.

He waits about fifteen minutes, using their wifi to scroll on his phone, and then pays the cashier and leaves with a fresh pizza in hand. 

 

III walks back to the camp spot, his arms aching from carrying this awkward pizza box the whole way. 

“Guys!” He yells, trying to get their attention. But nobody responds. 

“Guys!” He tries again. “I brought  pizza!”

III finally makes it to the campfire and places the box on the log that they use for a bench. He looks around. 

“Guys?”

Only then does it dawn on him. Everything is packed up, gone. 

The only tarp left is his own. He goes over to it, slowly, inspecting it. There's knife gashes throughout it, making it practically useless, not waterproof anymore. 

He looks underneath it, and sees that his pack is gone, with all of his stuff dumped onto the ground. Most of his expensive gear has been taken too, only some cans of food and some clothing left behind. 

He sits down on the ground, kneeling before what little remains. 

He should've seen this coming….

He really should've. But it doesn't take away the sore spot in his chest. 

He fumbles around with the stuff on the ground with shaking fingers, mentally taking an inventory of what he's lost. Nearly everything…

All of his tools are gone, even his camping utensil that he used to eat the canned food from the pantry. His multitool, flashlight, headlamp, and solar charger are all missing too. 

He tries not to be upset, but it hardly works. He can feel his eyes starting to tear up, and he stands, shaking his head to try to shake the tears away. He goes back and starts a fire, sitting by it alone. The pizza box sits next to him, untouched, but he's not hungry anymore. He feels sick, if anything. 

He takes the small book that Maisie gave him from his pockets with shaking fingers, and angles himself next to the fire so that he can read it. 

Soon, he is reading about a woman who moves to the West and meets a handsome cowboy. He laughs at how cliche it is, but he feels something else too. Jealousy? Longing? He wishes he had a romance like theirs. He wishes he had somebody to care about… and somebody who cared about him in return. He wishes he was in this book, instead of sitting in the dark by himself.

He feels especially lonely tonight, with the cracking fire the only thing keeping him company. He's used to the noise of the group, drinking and laughing and talking shit late into the night. 

But the book keeps him distracted. Enough so, that his fingers stop shaking and he grows tired and retires to his mess of a sleeping bag without thinking about what happened tonight. He pushes his loose stuff to the side and crawls inside the sleeping bag.

He prays for no rain, looking up at his destroyed tarp. He starts to wonder why this happened to him, but quickly shoots those thoughts down. He'll think about it more after a good night's res t. 

Right now, he just needs some sleep. 

III holds a controller in his hands, while someone watches. His character goes around, looting a few boxes here and there while skipping others.

“III!” The person says, distressed. “You're doing it again!”

“I don't need those,” III says, continuing on, completely unbothered. 

The person cradles their face in their hands. “Oh my God, you stress me out,” They say. 

III laughs, and then looks over at them. They look so cute, cuddled up on the couch in their pajamas, under a pile of blankets. He wants to kiss them again. No, he wants to do more than kiss them. But they've been drinking… and so has he. He shouldn't. Plus, he wants their first time to be remembered. 

He reels in his emotions, acting casual while internally freaking out a little bit. He gets to a convenient  part in the game to pause and save, before turning it off and looking at the person. “Where should I sleep?”

The person tells him his options, setting an empty bottle on the floor for now. III ends up following them into their bedroom.

The scene shifts, and he's suddenly at a game center. The person he is with is determined- even without being able to see their face, he can feel that energy from them.

“I'm going to kick your ass at this,” They say, giggling. 

III smiles back. “In your dreams.”

The person grabs a mini-golf club, immediately swinging and missing. III holds back his laughter. 

“That was just a warm-up,” They say. It takes them a total of four swings to get the ball into the hole. Once they finally succeed, they stand to the side and wait for III to take his turn.

III swings, getting considerably closer than the other person on the first try. He swings again and gets the ball in, in a total of two swings.

“Beginner's luck,” The person mumbles, tallying their score before moving to the next hole. 

He can't help but think it's cute how seriously they take this stuff. He feels a bit bad about finding joy in it, but he thinks it's adorable- their frowning face, mopey attitude, and sheer look of determination in their eyes… It's almost enough to kill him. Even if he can't clearly see it for himself, he knows that's how they're acting. 

They continue playing, with III leading for the majority of the course. Towards the end, the other person makes a surprising comeback, nearly tying with III. 

They jump up, clapping excitedly about the last hole they made which puts them ahead one point now. 

III grins, walking with them towards the final hole. They swing first, and it takes them three tries to get the ball in. 

They seem nervous now. III could win if he gets it in three or less. III's first swing gets him close. He knows he could do it on the second swing, but he looks back to the person who's watching so meticulously, so anxiously, and he decides to do something else. He purposely swings with too much force, making the ball roll even further from the hole. Then he swings again, but a little to the left. The ball rolls right by the hole. On the fourth try, he finally lets himself swing normally, landing the ball in the final hole. 

He feigns disappointment. “Damn, I thought for sure I would beat you…”

The other person giggles. “Next time, maybe! I told you I'm really good at this.” They look so happy. III is glad he faked losing. This was well worth it. 

III laughs softly, taking their hand in his. “Come on, let's go get some ice cream to celebrate.”

 

Before he can see what kind of ice cream they get, the setting changes again. 

Now, he's with someone else in a kitchen that he doesn't recognize. 

He knows it's not either of the other two people because of their build- shorter, and slightly thinner. Their voice is different too.

“You don't have to do this,” They say. “I don't mind cooking for us. I enjoy it.”

III wags a finger at them. “I don't care. You shouldn't do it every day.” He takes some pans out of the cupboard. “Go do something else. I know I'm not at your level, but I promise it'll be edible, okay?” 

The person laughs, stepping closer to him and cupping his face in their hands. “I'm sure whatever you make will be perfect,” They say. “Thank you.”

And then they pull III into a kiss, short and sweet. They frankly pull away too soon for III's liking, but he has shit to do anyways. 

“Go,” III says, grinning. “I'll let you guys know when it's ready.”

The person hesitates for a moment, but eventually bows their head down, still smiling to themselves. III reaches a hand out and ruffles their hair, a gesture to symbolize his fondness of them, but to also politely tell them to fuck off now. 

They slowly leave the room, and III waits a solid sixty seconds before taking his phone out of his pocket and promptly googling “ How To Cook Steak.”

In the morning, he opens his eyes and is happy to see that he and his minimal belongings are still dry. It didn't rain again after all.

He blinks a few times, the memory of those strange dreams washing over him now. A video game night… a round of mini-golf, and him cooking dinner… All with mysterious strangers. But what does it mean? Why couldn't he really see them? They were mostly anonymous. 

He can't figure it out no matter how hard he tries, so he decides to just ignore it for now and go about his day instead. 

He slowly gets out of his sleeping bag, stretching and going over to the log and sitting on it. He runs his hands through his hair, noting it's beginning to get greasy. He already needs to find another shower soon. 

He sighs, then cradles his head in his hands. He still wants to ignore it, but can't. 

Why did they do this to him? 

He was too tired to think about it rationally last night, but now he's fully awake and alone and he needs to process this.

They didn't really like him, apparently. It was all just pretend. 

The more he thinks about it, the more it feels like they used him… He watched their bags for them while they ventured off, he shared his food and beer with them, he trusted them…

But, there must be more to it. 

They probably didn't like that this was his choice. It was theirs too, though. Even if they were down on their luck, nobody forced them into the traveling lifestyle. 

He shakes his head at himself. No, that's not always true. That's not fair.

Maybe they were jealous of him? He had nice gear, which is now gone. But he saved up for months for it before he left. He did have his bass and permission to use Maisie's porch sometimes… Maybe they thought he had it too easy. 

He runs his fingers through his hair again. 

Maybe that random guy in the park was right. He's too nice, too soft. He'll just be taken advantage of again. He needs to change…

No more being nice. No more being walked over. From here on out, he is looking out for himself only. And… maybe Maisie, because he still owed her. Everyone else can fuck off. 

He looks at the romance book he left on the log last night, before picking it up and throwing it into the fire that is only smoldering coals now. No more of that shit either. 

Maybe this isn't his place after all. 

 

II:

He sits in the doctor's office on the examination table, waiting patiently and kicking his feet. 

When the doctor walks in, he immediately recognizes II from all of his other recent visits.

“So…” He looks at his clipboard, “another med change?”

II nods. “I don't think I need it anymore, and it's giving me weird wide effects. I just wanted to make sure I could stop taking it safely.”

“Why don't you think you need it anymore?” The doctor asks first. 

“I've picked up some hobbies that tire me out more instead, like you suggested.”

“That's great to hear.” He says, scribbling on his paper again. “What's been most helpful?”

“Picking up drums, and going to the gym regularly.”

More scribbles.

“You said the medicine gave you some adverse side effects. Tell me about that.”

II sighs, rubbing his eyes. “The dreams… Really fucking strange dreams.”

The doctor looks at him, tilting his head. “Huh. What kind of strange dreams?”

“I don't know,” II starts. “I can't explain it… Dreams where it feels so real but I know it's not… It's like an alternate reality… like I'm awake and asleep at the same time.”

The doctor scratches his neck, looking uncomfortable. 

“What?” II asks, feeling suddenly  impatient. 

“Well, there's no reports of this medicine having an impact on people's dreams,” He says. “Perhaps, though, the long-term effects of sleeping poorly for so long are to blame here.”

“But I only just started having them,” II argues. “right when I started the medicine!”

“Well, it could be possible that it is from the medicine, but it's just not common enough to have been documented.”

“Yeah… I guess that's possible,” II admits. 

“Do you think that these dreams will keep you from sleeping well?”

“No,” II says. “I'll sleep fine, they just leave me confused and feeling… weird.”

“Well,” The doctor says, “Let's see how it goes without any medicine. If you're still having trouble in a few weeks, come back.”

“Okay.”

“I'm glad things are looking up for you,” He says. “Keep it up.”

II nods, half happy that he can sleep now, and half annoyed that he can't find an explanation behind these weird dreams. It has to be the medicine. 

Either way, he is glad to not have to remember to swallow those pills every night. That alone is rewarding. 

II leaves the office, doing a few errands on the way home. He drops off some mail at the post office, picks up a few ingredients at the market, and then quickly runs into the music store to get some new sticks. He may have been going at it too hard last night and snapped his current ones. Not being able to play this morning killed him, so he grabs a few- never wanting to be in this situation again. It was like a drug to him. This morning, he stared at his kit for thirty minutes, and swore the broken sticks were taunting him. 

Once he has several pairs of new sticks, he finally heads home. He needs to make some lunch and rest a little before he goes back to the gym.

He sets his items from the market on his counter, planning to make a simple lunch. But soon, he gets carried away and before he knows it, he's made entirely too much food for just himself. It's basically a three course meal. Well, at least he'll have leftovers, he thinks. 

He happily eats, while watching videos about music theory on his phone. He's slowly making more sense of it all. He's made good progress on learning songs by watching and copying others play them, but he wants to know the science behind it. Having this fundamental skill will not only explain questions he has, but help him later when, if , he tries to create his own music.

It's a lot to take in, but he figures that if he learns it in bite-sized lessons here and there, it will be easier to grasp. 

Once he's eaten as much as physically possible without getting sick, he packages the leftovers and puts them in the fridge. 

He goes to his bed, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He just needs to rest a bit until his stomach settles. He closes his eyes, briefly thinking back to the man from the library. That mystery is still bugging him.

He rolls over, focusing on the sound of passing cars outside on the street, and before he realizes what's happening, he drifts asleep. 

He's almost asleep, when he hears the door creak open. A sliver of light shines into the room before it's enveloped in darkness again as the door shuts. 

The bed dips, and II feels the familiar embrace of someone laying their head on his chest. “I missed you.”

II winds his arm around them, rubbing circles on their back. He laughs softly. “You saw me this morning, before you guys left.”

The person hums out a laugh. “Yeah, but it was a long day without you.”

They hold II tighter, as if they fear he will disappear. 

“Did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah,” They say. “But I still wish you could've come along.”

“Next time I will,” II responds. “Promise.”

“Good,” They say. He feels the weight shift off of him slightly, and then a hand cupping his jaw. The person leans down and hovers over II for a moment. He can smell the scent of toothpaste on their breath. 

And then the person moves, closing the distance and pressing their lips to his. 

II responds by placing one hand behind their neck, and one hand in their hair, holding them close while he kisses them back. 

They softly moan into his mouth, adjusting themselves to settle more comfortably between II's legs. 

They playfully nip at II's lip, before giggling quietly. In response, II swiftly flips them so that they're underneath him now.

They gasp at the sudden change, and then sigh happily when II grabs their wrists, pinning them above their head. 

II takes advantage of their positioning, resting his knee between their legs, which only seems to make them more eager. “II, please….” They beg softly.

“Please what?” His voice is quiet too, barely audible. 

The person huffs, becoming impatient. “... need you.”

II smirks, liking that he has them right where he wants them. He kisses them again and then moves his attention to their neck, kissing there too before moving lower. II lifts their shirt and takes his time lapping at their nipples. He only pauses when he hears the door open again.

Another figure walks in, shutting the door and quickly sitting on the bed beside them. II casts a look in their direction, but they just rock their head back and forth, playfully, dismissively. “Keep going.”

They get comfortable on the bed, leaning up against the headboard beside them and casually unbuttoning their jeans. 

II turns his attention back to the person that's under him. He thinks to himself about how he wants to make them cry out in pleasure. So he focuses back on them, intent on doing just that. 

He takes his time, slowly undressing them before prepping them and teasing them with copious amounts of lube. And finally, when he thinks they can't take the torture anymore, he slowly sinks into them. 

They gasp, their body slightly shuddering at the feeling of being taken like this. They grab on to his biceps, digging their nails into his skin as he begins to move. 

II can barely see their face in the darkness, but can see it enough to watch as they throw their head back, closing their eyes and whimpering at the sensation. 

Their grip loosens, grasping at the bed sheets instead. II likes them like this- completely lost to everything else except him. But it's not just him there. He looks away long enough to eye the person sitting next to them on the bed. They've lowered the waistband of their pants, just enough to slip their hand down them, and they're touching themselves as they watch.

II breathes out, having to look away from both of them for a moment. Knowing a second set of eyes were on them was almost too much for him right now. 

His thrusts are slow and calculated, each one pushing them both towards the edge. The person beneath him is close. He can tell by the way they're writhing on the bed and whimpering, trying to be quiet but not quite succeeding. 

II groans at the feeling of them tightening around his cock. He pushes in a few more times before he feels their body spasm, tightening again as they reach their orgasm and come around him. Watching them come, plus the sound of them crying out, causes II to reach his own orgasm, moaning lowly in their ear as he spills inside of them. 

The person beneath him stills, catching their breath. II collapses on top of them, needing to rest a moment while he recovers. 

It's only then that he hears another moan. He looks over and sees the person watching them stroking himself, bringing themselves to their own climax and leaving spurts of white cum all over their stomach. 

“Fuck…” They say. “You guys are so fucking hot together.” He grits out, like it causes him physical pain to admit. He lets his head fall back, staring at the ceiling.

The other person giggles, extending a hand and reaching out to touch their arm. “Why didn't you join in?” Their question is genuine, sincere. 

They laugh. “I don't know, I liked watching quite a bit just now.”

The other person laughs. “You voyeur, you.”

They laugh then too, suddenly reaching for II's face, gripping his jaw and pulling him into a kiss, before bending down and doing the same to the person beneath him. 

II finally rolls to the side, settling in between the two of them. He's gross, hot and sticky, and in desperate need of a shower, but right now, he doesn't have the will to get up. He just wants to lay there for a while and savor the feeling of being surrounded by them. He can feel his eyes growing heavy, and thinks to himself about how happy he is, here with them. But, deep down, he feels a hint of something else too… like something else is still missing.

 

II wakes, startled at his alarm. He looks around, confused, before the elements of his dream come back to him. 

What the fuck? He thinks. 

He goes back over the dream in his head, replaying everything. The previous mysterious figures were now only partially a mystery. One of them- the one that was under him for most of his dream- had a face- the face of the guy at the library. 

Seriously… What. The. Hell.? He thinks again, completely taken back.

Why would he have a dream that explicit with someone he's only barely met? 

He doesn't know. Maybe he's just suffering from a lack of intimacy, but he's never had dreams like that before. They feel so real. He'll never get used to this…

But, he has been feeling pretty lonely lately. That he can admit. Maybe this is his subconscious’s way of protesting, telling him to go out and meet people. 

He groans to himself, thankful he set that alarm earlier or he surely would've missed his opportunity to go to the gym today. 

He tries to wake himself up, cracking open a Redbull before packing his gym bag. He hopes Dylan is there, and will be his workout buddy for the day like he said…

II's a bit anxious about that. What if he does something embarrassing? Or what if Dylan realizes how boring he is and doesn't want to hangout with him at the gym anymore after this? 

But, all signs in his life are currently pointing towards change. This will be a good thing, he tells himself. He's going to go, meet with Dylan, and they are going to have a great time. He will leave feeling more confident at the gym, and maybe more confident about his ability to connect with people too. 

After he recites positive affirmations to himself, he finally leaves the house and walks towards the gym.

When he arrives, he immediately sees Dylan talking to the other employees at the front desk. He quietly scans his card to check in, as if he's going to get by unnoticed..the machine beeps, buzzing open the door and everyone glances at him.

“II! Still up for some exploration today?”

II smiles, then nods shyly. “Yeah, definitely… if you're not too busy.”

Dylan shakes his head. “Of course! This is what I'm paid for!”

As much as II knows that's just a lighthearted, joking statement, he internally winces a little. Right… He's paid to do this…

It's not like he actually wants to spend time with him. He doesn't find him interesting… It's just part of his job…

II exhales. “I'm gonna go change. I'll meet you outside the locker room?” 

Dylan agrees. “Sure! I'll be there in a few.”

II nods, hiding his disappointment, and making his way to the locker room. Once he's changed into his gym clothes and locked his locker up, he steps outside and waits for Dylan. 

He's right on time, walking down the hallway towards II. 

“So,” Dylan says, “What were you thinking?”

“Let's start with whatever is faster to learn,” II says. 

“Well,” Dylan starts, thinking, “I'd say the rock climbing room is a bit easier to learn.” 

II watches him as he thinks about it. 

“The weight room just has more machines, and each of them has their own rules. Rock climbing is pretty straightforward.”

“Okay,” II says. “That's fine.” He's happy with either option, honestly. 

“Great! Follow me then,” Dylan instructs.

They walk to an area of the gym that II has only hurriedly brushed past before. 

Dylan pushes a door open and lets II enter before him.

II walks inside and his jaw nearly drops. He wasn't expecting such an advanced rock climbing room for such a small gym. But, before him lay several rock climbing courses for all skill levels. The walls tower over him, high and imposing.

He stares up at the colorful markings that tell you where to place your feet and hands. “Holy shit,” II says, “this is wild.”

Dylan laughs. “It could be better, but it's pretty good for a small place like this, right?”

II nods, eagerly agreeing.

The room is empty besides them, so Dylan takes his time explaining how to rig up the harnesses. “You shouldn't do this without a spotter,” He advises. 

II nods again, and Dylan laughs. “Promise me you won't,” He says. “I know you. II.”

II looks back at him, beginning to scale the beginner level wall without waiting for further instruction. “What do you mean?”

Dylan laughs. “You just have that look. I've seen it many times. People come here, get determined, and end up getting inpatient and hurting themselves in the long run.”

II frowns, “I wouldn't.”

Dylan laughs again. “Sorry, but I don't believe you.”

“Why do you say that?” II asks, placing his hand on a colorful marker and hoisting himself upwards. 

“Look at you now!” Dylan laughs. “You're already on the wall and I've told you almost nothing.”

II pauses, looking at his hand placements on the false stones. Okay, he sees his point.

Dylan continues. “I've seen you. You've been here nearly every day since you joined. Have you even taken any rest days?”

II frowns again, moving his feet to the next markers. He looks down at Dylan, who's standing below him now. “Not many,” II says. It might be a lie. II's not sure if he's taken a single one. 

“Why's that?” Dylan asks.

II moves his hands again, moving upwards. “I don't know… Doctor’s orders I suppose.”

Now, Dylan is really curious. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” II says. “I… Couldn't sleep. My doctor told me I had to get rid of my energy somehow. I signed up here… And now I sleep well every night.”

“Huh,” Dylan says. “Not what I was expecting. But I'm pretty sure a doctor would still advise you to take rest days.”

“Yeah, probably….” II says, climbing higher yet again. He's finding this course fairly easy so far.

“I'll try to take more rest days, okay? I don't wanna injure myself.. If I set myself back, I'll be pissed.” 

“Set yourself back? What, are you training for something?”

II grunts, reaching for a harder spot to grasp. “Not exactly… I just started drumming.” He pauses, lifting himself up higher. “Another new hobby to sleep better.” II gets into a more comfortable position, and then tilts his head down to look at Dylan. “But, drumming takes a lot of strength. I've taken a liking to it. I thought the gym would be helpful to progress faster.”

Dylan stares up at him. 

“Wait-  you can play drums?”

“Well… I just started learning.”

“Wanna join my band? We've been looking for a drummer.”

II scoffs, looking at him like he has two heads. “I can't join a band, I've barely just started learning!”

“Yeah, well, if your practice schedule is anything like your gym schedule, you'll be great in no time.”

II rolls his eyes, “Yeah, sure.” He says it jokingly, but Dylan seems to take it literally. “Great, so we'll see you Sunday for practice then?”

II laughs. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

II gets to the top of the beginner wall, sees the bell at the top and enthusiastically slaps it. The sound rings out, echoing through the empty room and Dylan claps, making II roll his eyes. 

“Rappel down, now. I'll loosen the rope.”

II swiftly glides down through the air, landing back on his feet next to Dylan. “That was too easy. I only had one hangup. Can we do the next level?”

“Yeah! We'll go ‘til you get stuck,” Dylan teases. 

“I won't get stuck,” II says. “I just didn't know how much time you had.”

“I'm here all day,” Dylan says, shrugging.

II ignores the recurring thought that this is his job. “Well, the gym has to close eventually, right?”

“Yeah,” Dylan says. “Thank God for that.”

II laughs, rigging up again for the intermediate wall. 

They chitchat back and forth, a mixture of teasing each other and Dylan lecturing him about his ‘bad gym habits.’ II does the Intermediate wall twice, two different ways, and then makes it to the Advanced wall before he finds himself stuck. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's not even halfway up and already at a loss for where to move his feet.

“Having trouble?” Dylan asks from below- not too far below though. 

“No…” II lies. “Just need a minute to think about this.”

II stares at the colorful placement markers, but can't imagine how to move to go higher. If he can just get his left foot on that rock, he could progress, he thinks. 

He goes to do it- quickly swinging his leg upwards and trying to step into the stone, but he doesn't get quite high enough and he loses his footing, slipping and falling downwards. 

Dylan holds the rope, making sure II doesn't fall completely. He slowly releases the slack, letting II glide down to the floor. 

II huffs, clearly annoyed.

Dylan smiles at him. “I think that's probably enough for today.”

“I could've made it, if it wasn't for my short ass legs!” 

Dylan laughs. “Don't be so hard on yourself. It's your first day on the walls, isn't it?”

II groans. “Yeah.”

“So cheer up! Most people don't even make it past the beginner's wall on day one.”

II starts unclasping his harness, nodding absentmindedly. He hands the harness back over to Dylan, who takes the equipment and stores it away. 

II checks the time on his phone, noting that it's nearly closing time at the gym. 

Dylan returns and II awkwardly stands before him for a moment. He clears his throat and scratches his neck, looking at the floor. “Thanks for… this,” II starts. “It was really fun, honestly.”

Dylan smiles wide. “Good! I'm glad.”

II hesitates a moment before speaking again. “Maybe next time, we can go to the weight room?”

“Definitely,” Dylan says. “But, II… I don't wanna see you here tomorrow. Take a day off, seriously. One day won't set you back. It'll help, if anything.”

II frowns, but he can't argue. He's sure Dylan is more knowledgeable in this subject than he is. “Okay.”

“Promise?” Dylan sticks his hand out, with his pinky finger extended. 

II laughs at the ridiculousness. “I promise.” II sticks out his pinky finger and wraps it around Dylan's, making his promise legitimate. 

Before II leaves, Dylan stops him. “One more thing, give me your phone.”

II hands it over without protest. He watches as Dylan types away before handing it back. 

“There. You have my number now. I'll text you Sunday morning to let you know the details about practice.”

II still can't believe he isn't fucking with him, but he nods regardless. “Sounds good.”

II starts for the door, as Dylan begins turning off lights. “Have a good night, II!”

“You too,” II says, giving him a small wave and heading towards the locker rooms.

He's one of the last people still here, so as he changes he is alone in the locker room. He takes advantage of the quietness to think for a moment. See? That wasn't so bad. It was… actually really fun. And he and Dylan had more in common than he thought. He didn't embarrass himself. Not really. He's still mad he didn't make that last climb, but Dylan said he did better than most. And he wants him to join his band? II still worries that he is being pranked or something. Dylan probably doesn't realize how little he knows. He should send him a video or something to show him his current skill level. He thinks he will do that tomorrow, since Dylan has practically banned him from coming to the gym. But, he can't deny that the feeling of being offered a spot in a band feels nice- really, really nice. Maybe, all of his efforts and new lifestyle changes will actually pay off. 

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3

Chapter 13: Thirteen

Summary:

A better day for IV

Notes:

A short chapter today, I just wanted to post this as a way of letting everyone know i'm not abandoning this story! I've just been busy and spent a long time working on my christmas fic :)

IV:

 

Winter walks him towards the pharmacy. They all have coffees in their hands. Winter bought his, despite him arguing against it.

In the makeup department, IV stands there uselessly, like a sleepless zombie while Winter continuously holds up different shades of concealer, comparing them to his natural skin tone. 

She finally finds a match, but Sasha snatches it out of her hands. 

“Don't make him get that one.” She reaches nearby, grabbing a different container off of the shelf. “This one works just as well, and it's half the price.” Chloe nods her head in agreement. 

Winter takes the one that Sasha is holding, “You're right. This is a better option.”

IV awkwardly fumbles with his shirt sleeves, trying not to feel self conscious about them staring at his face for the last twenty minutes- especially when he's looking the worst he's probably ever looked before.

Once they find the products he needs, they scan his items at the checkout. IV goes to pay but Winter stops him. 

“Wait!”

“You're not paying,” He says.

“No, no… Not that,” She says, digging around in her purse. “I have a coupon!” She retrieves it, and hands it over to him. “Twenty five percent off!”

IV laughs. “That's oddly convenient.”

Winter rolls her eyes. “Girls always have pharmacy coupons, okay?”

He laughs again, scanning the coupon which reduces his total drastically. “Thanks.”

“So,” Chloe says, “What now?”

Sasha tilts her head, seeming to be brainstorming. “I think we should do whatever IV wants to do today.”

Winter agrees, sipping her coffee and nodding.

IV is flattered, but feels a little spoiled by the attention. “We don't have to do that…”

“Yes! We should!” Winter says.

IV groans. “If you say so.”

“We do,” Chloe says.

“So what do you wanna do?” Sasha asks.

IV breathes out, thinking. “I just wanna have a chill day. Maybe learn how to put on this stuff,” He gestures to the bag of makeup, “and get some food, watch a movie, talk shit…. I don't know.”

Winter grins. “Yes! That sounds perfect!”

“Ooh! A spa day!” Sasha says, which causes IV to blush, sightly embarrassed. 

“Sure, if that's what you guys call it.”

Chloe laughs. “Oh don't be so bashful. Guys can have spa days too.”

IV doesn't argue. 

“Let's stop by my house- I have like a million products that I need to use up before they expire,” Sasha says. 

“Okay,” Winter says. “Where should we do this?”

IV tries to hide the feeling of the knot building in his stomach, but when none of the girls immediately offer their places, he speaks up. “We can use my place… It's still early… Nobody should be there for a while.”

They all agree on the plan. They wait outside Sasha’s place for a few minutes  while she prepares a bag of bath and beauty products. Then they start walking back towards IV's house.

He hates that he can feel his anxiety build the closer they get. He shouldn't have to feel this way in his own home.

But, when they arrive the house is still empty and IV feels relieved. 

They make their way into the kitchen and Sasha makes a noise- like she gasped but is trying to hide it. 

IV looks around at the state of the place and sighs. The dishes are overflowing, full trash bags are piling up on the floor, and the counters are covered with dirty dishes and trash.

“I know it's bad… I keep cleaning it, and then the next day it's a disaster again…” IV mumbles, embarrassed.

They all give him a sympathetic look. 

“It's bad, but honestly this seems to be the least of your problems,” Winter says. 

IV groans, feeling defeated. “I really try, guys. If it was up to me, this place would be spotless!”

They all look saddened by this information.

“Why don't you just move out?” Sasha asks.

IV frowns. “I can't… I don't have the money for it, and I'd need to find someone to take over my lease first.” He looks around at the absolutely destroyed kitchen, “And who would wanna move in here?”

They all just stand there in silence.

“I know it's not an immediate option,” Winter carefully says, “but I do think you need to move out of here as soon as possible, IV. This shit with Oliver is not good… or normal. And I hate seeing you like this.”

When IV thinks about moving, he feels conflicted. He would love a place that would stay clean for longer than a day, and he would love to sleep soundly at night. But if he moved out, that would mean things with Oliver were officially over. No more chances at repairing things. IV doesn't think there's much of a chance of that anyways, but he doesn't feel quite ready to let him go. Oliver is… awful. But, once in a while, when he's not, IV still really likes him. He feels cursed, battling in his head over which Oliver is the real one. 

“IV!” Winter says, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Don't get lost on me now.”

IV snaps back to reality. “Sorry.”

“I know what we should do!” Sasha says. “We should all help IV clean this up, and then have a spa day. It'll feel much more rewarding if this place is back in order first.”

IV immediately protests. “No, you guys don't have to do that. It'll just be destroyed by tonight again anyways. It's a waste of time.”

“It's not a waste of time if it’ll make you feel better,” Winter argues. ”Even for just a little while.”

Chloe nods, agreeing with them both, and now IV is outnumbered.

“Fine, if you guys insist. But I'm telling you that it'll be pointless.”

“We don't care,” Sasha says, and then Chloe jumps up and exclaims, “I'll put on a playlist!”

IV can't help the smile that comes across his face. He really loves these girls, and he's barely even gotten to know them yet.

Together, they listen to music, and each of them spread out, taking on different rooms to clean. 

IV tackles the horrors in the bathroom, as he figures that it's the most awkward room to have to clean if you don't live there. Chloe takes the living room, and Sasha and Winter clean the kitchen together, as that room has the most work to do.

They turn the place spotless, and even venture out to the store quickly to return the recycles and buy trash stickers. 

They give IV all of the change from the recycles, and then help him haul the trash bags onto the curb. He tries not to feel pathetic during this whole experience, but he's on the verge of breaking down again. H e shouldn't need his friends’ assistance cleaning his apartment, or to return loose cans for petty change…

“ You're doing it again!” Sasha shouts, shutting IV's thoughts down. “Knock it off, IV!”

He blinks, refocusing on her face. She's smiling wide, despite her bossy tone.

“Sorry,” IV mumbles. “I just… I don't know what I did to deserve you three.”

“You helped us when we needed you most,” Chloe says. “We'll always be grateful for that. You kept us out of a bad dilemma.”

IV shrugs, not thinking his kindness was really a big deal in comparison to this . 

“Don't shrug it off,” Winter says. “We could've ended up dead in a ditch, or….  making choices we really regretted…”

They hold eye contact, and IV feels the kindness radiating off of her. He's eternally thankful that he did help them that night. He would never be able to cope if something bad did happen to them, especially now that he knows how kind and sweet they are. 

“Well,” Sasha says, back in the kitchen surveying the apartment, “I think the place is shipshape now. Who's ready for a spa day?”

IV goes slightly red again, but the girls all just giggle and smile, before  pulling him along. 

Spa day goes beautifully. 

They order pizzas ( multiple ) and put on a comedy on the TV.

The girls then show IV how to apply the makeup he bought today. It doesn't look awful, to his surprise. It's actually pretty natural looking. He thanks them endlessly and hopes he will remember exactly how they applied it in the future. 

The girls decide to do face masks, but IV politely declines. Instead he washes the makeup off and puts a moisturizer on his face instead. He really should do this more often.

Then they eat, all the while talking about their relationships, horoscopes, and their goals for the upcoming year. 

“So,” Chloe says, “Pretend Oliver is out of the picture. Are there any girls you have a crush on? Or boys? I guess I'm just now realizing that you never told us if you were bi or gay or…?”

IV laughs, and then shrugs. “I'm not sure… probably closer to gay. There's only been very, very few girls I've been attracted to, um, no offense.”

None of them seem to care.

“Okay, but you didn't fully answer the question,” Winter says.

“Well…” IV starts. “I mean… Maybe? There's this guy I saw at the library… He was really cute. And… Well, I keep dreaming about him now.”

IV almost immediately regrets telling them.

“Oooh!” 

“That's totally a sign!”

“No way!”

Yup. IV definitely regrets saying anything now. They're all looking at him with excited eyes, eager for more details.

“So? What did he look like?’

“Does he go to your school?”

“Tell us, play-by-play, exactly what happened!”

IV rubs his eyes, groaning but also chuckling at their enthusiasm.

They all just stare at him and wait for answers.

“Well, I thought he was a student at the time, but I'm not really sure now. I haven't seen him since. I was in the library and I was sleep-deprived. I walked around the corner and we bumped into each other. All my shit went flying, like in the movies, but he helped me pick it up, and apologized. Then he saw my book about guitar and he asked if I could show him where the music section was. So I did, and that was that. Haven't seen him since.”

“What did he look like?” Chloe presses, which makes IV blush again, looking around the room to distract himself.

“Well,” IV says. “He was really cute. Kinda tiny, a little shorter than me. He had really blue eyes and short, messy hair.” IV thinks back, memories of the library and his dreams washing back over him. “ Tired , blue eyes,” He clarifies. 

“You've gotta try to find him,” Chloe says. 

IV scoffs, “How? I didn't catch his name, and I never see him when I'm at the college. Believe me, I've looked.”

“Well, maybe he wasn't a student. The library is part of the public library network, after all. Maybe he just lives in town,” Winter says.

“Or maybe he was just a tourist passing through and I'll never see him again,” IV argues.

“No! Don't think that way. You have to think positive. That's how good things happen, you know,” Sasha says. 

“Did you say you dreamt of him?” Chloe asks.

“Yeah, well, that's a long and complicated story,” IV answers.

“We have time,” Winter says, smirking. 

IV sighs, and then readies himself to summarize the whole strange dream sequence to the girls. 

He doesn't go into specifics, but he fills them in the best he can while simultaneously keeping the unnecessary (and explicit) details to himself. 

“That's some crazy shit,” Sasha says, which makes IV giggle around another bite of pizza.

“Yeah, it's weird as fuck,” IV says. 

“No, I think it's like premonitions, or destiny,” Chloe explains. “It's happened to me too. I mean, on a smaller scale.”

“What do you mean?” IV asks, intrigued. 

“I had a dream that I got pulled over for speeding… When I woke up I laughed because I don't even have a car. A few days go by, and my father becomes sick. He tells me to take his car and go to the pharmacy for him, so I do. And on the way home, I got pulled over for speeding,” She says. 

“Whoa,” IV says. Maybe there is something to this after all. Maybe dreams can be fragments of the future…

When the hour grows late, and they finish their second movie, the girls mention that they're getting ready to head out.

IV completely understands. They have things to do, places to be… But, he can't avoid the slight sadness that creeps over him. 

He wishes they could stay forever, or that he could trade Oliver and Dylan for these girls. He would much rather room with them, any day.

 

“Goodnight, IV! I hope you dream of your library boy, and those other mysterious strangers!” Chloe says, laughing. 

“And not Oliver!” Winter adds.

“Yeah!” Sasha says, “Never Oliver! You're too good for him, IV!”

IV waves them off, watching as they close the door behind themselves and disappear.

The house is quiet now, with nobody to keep him company anymore. 

He turns off the TV, then brings the pizza boxes to the recycling bins.

He decides to take advantage of the apartment being still empty, and takes another hot shower.

Once clean, he goes to his bedroom and gets ready for bed. 

The quietness is otherworldly, and he's waiting for the moment that it all goes to Hell. But as he lays back in his bed, he is surrounded by an utter silence still.

He quickly falls asleep.

Chapter 14: Fourteen

Summary:

III and II povs

III:

He packs up his most important belongings, tossing them into a disposable plastic bag since that's all he has left. 

Without his pack, he has no ideal way of lugging his stuff around anymore. 

But, this will have to do for now.

He looks over the campsite, noting that the place looks pretty trashed. It makes him sad.

Once he moves his stuff somewhere safe, he will come back and clean this mess up. 

For now, he needs to get warm, and find something to eat. 

He had salvaged some of the pizza from the night before, but it was seemingly tainted with bad memories. It tasted like the horrible feeling he felt walking into the campsite last night.

He couldn't stomach it.

He walks back into town, knowing that it was still early and that most places weren't open yet. But he has nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.

Maybe Maisie could help?

But she's already done so much for him. He feels guilty for even having the thought cross his mind.

He would see her later today anyways. He was planning on helping with the dinner meal at the church again. He shouldn't bug her until then.

In the meantime, he aimlessly wanders. There's a free breakfast at another nearby church, not the one Maisie works at. Their food is not nearly as good, but it is free. His stomach rumbles. He decides to walk in that direction.

He's one of the first people there, which makes III feel even more pathetic than he was already feeling. He sits outside on the curb and waits for the doors to open.

A couple people try talking to him, but he politely shrugs them off, not in the mood for smalltalk with strangers.

However, one stranger does grab his attention- a girl his age, with medium blonde hair and a unique sense of style. She walks over and sits on the curb beside III.

“Hey,” She says, casually, like they know each other.

“Hey,” he replies.

“Here for breakfast?”

“Yeah. Aren't you?” He asks.

She laughs, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. After she takes a drag, she responds. “Nah, my time here is court-ordered.”

III wants to ask for details, but doesn't. “So you're here to volunteer then?”

“Yeah,” She says. Then she turns to face him properly. “I'm Amber. And you are?”

“III.”

“I like your shirt,” She says, nodding to his Normandie band tee. It's one of his favorite shirts, he's really thankful that he was wearing it when all of his stuff got stolen. 

She pulls her jacket open and shows him her own Normandie tee.

He smiles. “Great band.”

She nods in agreement, pausing a moment before speaking again. “I've never seen you before. Are you from around here?”

He laughs. “No. I've been here for a few weeks, but… Well, I'm just passing through probably.”

“Aww, you're not staying?” She looks saddened by the information, her eyes wide and brows furrowed. 

III isn't sure if she's just very outgoing or if she's subtly flirting with him.

“I haven't had the best time here,” He ends up saying.

“That's too bad. Where were you hanging out before?”

He tells her the names of the parks and the streets that he's been frequenting.

“That's your problem,” She says. “That's the worst area of town. Don't hangout there!”

“Well, where do you suppose I hangout then?”

She laughs, “Do you have a phone?”

“Yeah?”

“Let me have it,” She says.

He reluctantly hands it over.

She opens his notes app and types in an address. “This house,” She says, handing the phone back. “I'll be there tonight. It's always a party. That's where to go to meet people.”

“And they won't care if a stranger shows up?”

“Nah,” She replies. “They'll be cool. I'll tell them you're coming. I wrote down my number too. text me let me know if you're gonna come.”

III feels a bit awkward about all of this. Showing up to a house party where he doesn't even know the people…? 

“No promises,” III says. “But maybe I'll drop by.”

“Cool!” She says, standing and stomping out her cigarette. “Well, I have to get to work, but I'll see you later hopefully!”

“Sure,” III says, “Good luck with your work.”

III waits in line, then gets a plate and sits down to eat. The food is okay, but nothing special. At this point though, he is so hungry he doesn't care.

He eats the dry eggs and overdone sausage happily, as his stomach finally settles. He lingers in the dining room as long as possible, savoring the warmth of the building.

He wonders what Amber saw in him that made him seen so approachable. Maybe the same thing that drew Maisie to him. Maybe the same thing that led to all of his stuff being stolen…

He doesn't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

He uses the internet at the church to look up a map of the address that Amber typed into his phone. It's not too far, but far enough that he would need to take a bus.

He keeps going back and forth in his head, debating if he should go or not. He could go, maybe meet some new people, have a good time… Or he could skip it, go back to the campsite, clean up, and have the evening alone. 

Right now, the idea of being alone at the camp scares him. 

He thinks that he would rather show up to the random house party.

 

Before he can do that, he tries to spend the day being productive.

He ends up lounging in the library, browsing on their computers for jobs in the area, just to see what is available in case he does decide to stay.

There's some retail positions available, and multiple openings at one of the coffee shops he's visited before.

Could he be a barista? He wonders. He isn't sure.

When that grows old, he ventures to the aisles of books instead. 

He accidentally ends up back in the romance section, exactly where he was trying not to be.

He's here now, though. He browses the titles and covers, hoping that something will stand out. He's still got so many hours to waste. 

He finds a section that looks like the books that Maisie reads. He slowly browses them, then pauses when he sees a cover that features two men, instead of a man and a woman, like usual.

Is this…?

Are there gay romance novels?

He pulls the book off of the shelf and finds a comfy chair.

To his pleasant surprise, there are gay romance novels. 

He starts the book, sitting by a large window that overlooks the downtown area. Before he knows it, he's halfway through the book and simply hooked.

But his eyes are tired after not sleeping great last night. He wants to keep reading, but he feels his eyes being pulled closed with every next sentence.

They eventually close, and he falls quickly asleep in the library chair.

 

He's at a venue in a backstage area. He coats his arms and hands in black body paint, before applying it to the circles around his eyes. Then he pulls on a fabric mask, looking in the mirror and double checking that he didn't miss any spots.

He turns to a figure.

“Do I look okay?”

They look up at him, scanning him over and checking for any visible spots that he missed.

They dab a bit of body paint onto their fingers and step closer, “You missed a spot right here.”

They apply the body paint to his eyelid, gently blending it thoroughly before stepping back and looking over him again. 

“Okay, you're good now. What about me?”

They gesture to themselves and III looks down to study them. They applied the body paint flawlessly though, so there's no need for touch-ups.

“You're good.”

“Great!” They smile, and their smile makes III's breathing turn labored.

They look so cute right now, he almost wants to cancel the show just to take them home and have his way with them instead.

But, he knows that's not the responsible thing to do. 

So instead, he pulls them into a warm hug, giving them a quick, masked kiss. He readjusts his bass strap over his shoulder, and then walks towards the stage curtain, waiting for their cue to step onstage.

 

When he wakes, he's still in the library. The half-opened book is still in his hands. 

More weird dreams. 

Whatever.

He stretches, yawning, before settling back into the chair and refocusing on the book. He's almost done with it and  he's dying to know how this ends. 

He glances at the clock. It's nearly three. He has two hours, max, to finish it and get to the church in time to help Maisie. 

He looks at the remaining pages. He thinks he has time. 

And, thankfully, he does.

He finishes the book, shedding a few tears, before placing it back on the shelf, like it was never gone. And he still has nearly an hour until he needs to be at the church.

He sits there, processing the story and connecting it back to his own life.

That was a great story, he thinks. 

Then he pauses, and wonders again why these romance books are catching his attention.

Maybe it's the suspense, the rollercoaster of emotions that the characters go through before they  reach their happy ending.

Or perhaps it's the comforting moments, the cozy, slice-of-life scenes that take him out of his head and into a more normal, yet fictional, world. Maybe it's his brain's way of enjoying some sense of normality right now. 

Or, lastly, maybe it's the human connection, the thrill of reading about two souls who connect so deeply and live out the rest of their lives together.

Maybe he really is just lonely. 

He packs up his stuff, ignoring any further thoughts about the book for now. Right now, the last thing he wants to think about is human connection. 

But that's not entirely true, because he doesn't want to be alone right now either.

Fuck! None of this is making any sense! His brain is all… scrambled!

He starts walking towards the church that Maisie will be at, debating in his head the entire time if he truly wants to go to that party or not tonight. 

He thinks he does. What could happen? He gets kicked out? Someone steals his stuff? There's nothing left for them to take. He has nothing to lose by going.

He'll go to the party, and maybe have a good time. But if it's a waste of time, he thinks he will head out of this town soon. It hasn't felt like he was meant to be here yet. And, that's okay. Maybe his place is somewhere else. It really sucks that he is without supplies though. It will make traveling onwards much more difficult.

He tries not to spiral and think that he is stuck here now. He can replace his stuff, and continue traveling. It's not impossible. He's sure many have done so with less.

The whole walk to the church is a blur, as he's lost in his thoughts. He finds himself inside and looking for Maisie before he knows it. 

“Oh! There you are! I wasn't sure if you were coming tonight,” She says, setting tables mindlessly. 

“Yeah,” He says. “Of course I’d be here.” He sets the plastic bag down and the crinkling noise immediately gets Maisie's attention. She glances to his stuff.

“Where’s your pack? Traveling light today?”

He sits down at a table and buries his face in his hands. He sighs deeply and then replies, “Not exactly.”

“What happened?” She immediately stops what she is doing and sits down across the table from him.

He doesn't want to talk about it, and if it was anybody else he wouldn't. But, it's Maisie. She deserves his honesty.

“The group I was with… the other travelers… I came back to the campsite last night and they had stolen my pack, all my gear… and destroyed my tarp…” He looks at the plastic bag. “This is what's left.”

Maisie looks disappointed, and saddened by the information. “Oh, III. I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that.”

He shrugs, unsure of what to say. He feels miserable.

“You know… The church partners with other local programs. We could probably get you a new pack. Or at least a small backpack, if that's helpful. They even give out sleeping bags and blankets sometimes.”

Of course, Maisie comes in to save the day again. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time. 

“That would be helpful,” III says. “But, I'm not sure how much longer I'll be staying. I might hitch a ride out of here soon.”

“Oh? Where to?”

“I don't know yet. I never know. I just know when a place isn't the right place.”

“And you're sure this isn't the right place?”

“Pretty sure, not positive. I'm going to give it a few more days,” III answers.

“Well,” Maisie starts, “A few days is more than enough time for me to connect you with my resources.”

She seems to notice that III isn't enjoying talking about this. 

“Come find me tomorrow at dinner. We'll talk more. But in the meantime, are you ready to help out tonight?”

III nods, before standing. ”Just point me in the right direction and tell me what to do.”

Maisie just laughs.

 

II:

He makes good on his promise, and doesn't go to the gym the following day. 

He learns a new recipe and cooks a breakfast that is more suited for four people rather than one- a ham and cheese breakfast strata. He packages up the leftovers and stores them in the fridge.

Then he picks his favorite songs that he knows how to play. He props his phone up as best as possible, then sits behind his kit and plays through them while his phone records a video.

He edits the video, and then picks his favorite clips before sending them to Dylan. 

“ This is where I'm at. Still want me in your band?”

The response is swift, almost immediate. He's unsure if Dylan even watched the videos.

“ Yup! See you Sunday!”

Under that text is an address. 

II rubs his eyes, groaning. What did he get himself into? 

Before he can panic, he takes a deep breath.

He was scared of the gym, and that went well, even better than expected.

He's scared of this right now, but what if it turns out the same? 

What if he has a great time, loves the other band members, and enjoys playing in the band?

Surely it wouldn't hurt to try.

The worst that can happen is that he hates it and he tells Dylan that it isn't the right fit for him. 

No big deal. Things happen. 

Hopefully Dylan wouldn't hate him for it though. 

He tries not to worry about it too much right now. No use in wasting his day worrying. 

But, what should he do with his day? 

The gym is off limits. He's already cooked, and played drums for a bit. He could always play more, but maybe he should take a rest day from that too.

He brainstorms for a while, getting antsy. 

He needs to get out of the house somehow . 

He has an idea, one that Dylan would scold him for. But once it's in his head, he can't think of anything else.

He promised Dylan that he would stay away from the gym, but maybe a casual walk or jog on a trail wouldn't hurt?

He knows that it's kind've cheating on his rest day, but until he finds more hobbies he doesn't know what else to do.

He drinks some water and then downloads a trail app onto his phone. He looks them over, trying to pick one that will take him to parts of the city that he doesn't usually frequent. He needs a change of scenery.

He chooses one with fairly good reviews, and then puts on some leisurely clothing- joggers and a loose hoodie. He brings a water bottle, his keys, and his phone- nothing else to weigh him down.

He sets off, planning to walk about half of the way and then slowly switch into a jog.

He walks by the usual places that he frequents- the restaurants, cafes, and retail stores that he's come to know so well. But then the trail takes a turn and he goes towards a part of the city that he usually strays away from. It's proclaimed to be somewhat dangerous, but it's the middle of the day now. II doesn't think that he has to worry too much.

The trail takes him along the waterfront, and then down some side streets he's never ventured to before. He picks up the pace, jogging now, and comes to a wooded area. It's nothing like a real forest, but probably the closest thing to one within the city. 

He hesitates just a moment, before jogging along the trail that leads into the thick of it.

He jogs for a long while, before getting winded in a clearing. He pauses, stopping to take a breath and to drink some water.

He still needs to work on his cardio, he thinks. 

He looks around, wiping the sweat from his forehead and breathing heavily.

He sees a campsite, with lots of trash strewn about. He walks around, double checking to his left and right that this place is abandoned.

He sees a tarp hung between two trees, with cuts all through it, destroyed. He walks towards a campfire and notes a discarded pizza box, and a random romance novel that is half burned, covered in charcoal.

He wonders what the book did to the person that threw it into the fire. Maybe it was a really shitty book, or maybe they really needed some kindling. 

He catches his breath, takes another drink from his water bottle, and then looks back at the app on his phone. He maps the trail in his head, trying to commit it to memory, and then continues on.

Notes:

i realized that this story has been a really long unintentional slow burn so far. My bad. The next chapter will finally be more interactions between the guys though, promise <3

Chapter 15: Fifteen

Summary:

IV & III pov

IV:

He sleeps through the night peacefully for once. He can noticeably feel the difference in his energy in the morning. He feels good . 

He does wonder where everyone else went off to. It's unusual for the house to be empty for the entire night.

He savors the peacefulness though, knowing it probably won't happen again anytime soon.

He spends the morning playing guitar, his mind thinking back to yesterday. He had a good day, the best one in ages. He wishes he could have good days like that more often.

And he could - if only he could move out, forget Oliver, and focus on himself instead. 

He sighs. There's a lot of steps to take to make those things happen. 

He'll need to save money for starters. But he doesn't want to quit school. When would he have time for a job? He does need to sleep, even if he barely does so now anyways.

And then he would really need to forget all about Oliver, and that is a mental challenge which he will have to work on.

Hanging out with the girls does help though. They make him happy and feel inspired. Sure, his situation might suck right now, but they make him realize that it doesn't have to stay that way.

He gets ready for his classes after eating a late brunch. Then he bids farewell to his quiet, still clean apartment and begins walking to the college.

 

III:

After the church meal, he says goodbye to Maisie and makes his way to a bus stop. It's early evening now. He doesn't know if it's too early. 

He texts Amber.

“What time should I show up?”

She replies quickly, “Whenever you want! I'm here now. There's a couple people already. But more are coming later.”

“Ok. I'm taking the bus over. I'll be there in maybe a half hour.”

She sends a thumbs up emoji, and III pockets his phone.

Hopefully this isn't a mistake.

Whatever. If it is, he can just leave town. 

He keeps telling himself that to ease his nerves as he waits for the bus.

The bus finally pulls up, and he fumbles with the loose change in his pocket to pay for his fare. Once he's paid, he looks towards the seats.

The bus is crammed full of people. It is the time of day where most people are leaving work and school. He should've expected this.

He scans the bus as quickly as possible looking for an empty seat, but he doesn't see any.  However, there is a man sitting by the window with a guitar case in the seat beside him. 

He walks towards him, then nods down at the seat. “Sorry, would you mind?”

The man seems to be in a daydream, but snaps his head to III. 

“Oh, sure, go ahead.”

He looks embarrassed, his cheeks flushing red as he moves the guitar case to sit by his feet. 

“Thanks,” III says, sitting down beside him just as the bus starts to move. Now he just needs to make sure to get off at the right stop. 

He is mindful of the man next to him, eyeing him at every stop just to make sure he doesn't need to get by III.

III notices the man eyeing him too, sneakily though, out of the corner of his eye.

III looks at the guitar case, then notes the man's clothing and appearance. He seems familiar.

III gets lost in his own head trying to remember where he recognizes him from, but he doesn't come to any conclusions.

The bus approaches his stop, and III stands, getting ready to depart.

To III's surprise, the man next to him stands up too.

He's getting off at the same stop? 

III steps off of the bus, followed by the man he sat next to. 

The man immediately starts walking away, and III watches him for a moment, still feeling that strange sense of familiarity. The feeling is diminishing with each step the man takes.

He looks back at his phone, using the Maps route he pre-programmed to tell him where to go next.

It tells him to follow the man.

He does so for a little while, but the route keeps telling him to turn exactly when the man does, and he starts to worry that he is appearing to be a stalker or something. So III makes a detour at a local convenience store, using more pocket change to buy a snack and a drink. 

He eats the snack, then goes back to the route.

This time the man is nowhere to be found. III lost him. He is simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

 

IV:

IV takes the bus home after his classes. He is feeling lazy, and still has some unused bus passes so he figures he would skip the walk home for once.

The man who sits next to him on the bus is curious to him. He might've only said a few words, but IV could've sworn he'd heard that voice before. He keeps glancing at him, trying to jog his memory, but it doesn't work. 

He looks like a traveler. IV notes his boots and his pants, which look very rugged, meant for hard work but also trendy amongst travelers these days. He's seen groups of people around the city with big packs and clothes like his before. This man doesn't have a pack though.

IV eventually gives up, accepting that he can't figure out where he knows the man from.

He walks the rest of the way home thinking of other things- like how to save money and still go to school, and would his health insurance cover a therapist? 

He'll have to do some research.

When he gets back to the apartment, he immediately knows something is up. The driveway is full of cars, for starters, and he can hear muffled noise before he even opens the door.

He's met with a small crowd of people, some he recognizes, some he doesn't.

The apartment is already chaotic, and it's only the early evening. IV takes a deep breath and then goes to his room to set his guitar down.

He hangs out in his room for a while, going over his classwork and tidying up. But the noise from the rest of the apartment is getting progressively louder with each passing minute.

Maybe he'll go and be social for once. Plus, he is getting hungry.

When he ventures outside of his room, he sees many more people than before. They've seemingly doubled. 

He hears Oliver's voice, and goes to the living room to find him.

“Hey, IV!” Someone says. He learned their name once but he’s already forgotten what it was.

“Hey,” he says, scooting by them to make his way into the room. 

There's people everywhere, smoking weed and drinking cans of cheap beer. There's loud music playing too, which makes everything overwhelming and overstimulating.

He finally pushes through the crowd enough to find Oliver, who is sitting cozy on the couch with a girl at his side.

He doesn't recognize the girl, but the way they are acting puts IV on edge  immediately.

He sits down on the floor, grabbing an unopened beer and sipping it while listening to others' conversations.

IV notices the guy from the bus, the traveler, sitting beside Amber and talking quietly amongst themselves. Well, that explains why they got off at the same stop. 

He looks back at Oliver. Oliver and the girl keep giving each other small touches here and there. It's probably not noticeable to anybody else, but IV notices.

He also notices when someone comments that she is Oliver's “ girlfriend” , and that they've been dating for “ several weeks. ”

Now, he is mad.

He thinks back to the things Oliver said to him.

 

“I'm not looking to settle down with anyone right now.”

And,

“I don't want a relationship right now.”

 

Clearly, none of that was true. 

IV stands, abandoning his drink and going to make some food instead.

Internally, he is spiraling.

He lied. He lied. He lied. 

He just used him. 

He's full of shit.

Then he thinks about the other night with Oliver, and Dylan….

IV feels sick again, and unfortunately still hungry.

He walks to the kitchen to try to make something fast, maybe ramen noodles, hoping to distract himself from the fact that Oliver led him on for weeks with his “ no relationships ” bullshit. 

None of that was true. 

When IV reaches the kitchen, he freezes.

The place is trashed.

All of his and the girls' work yesterday gone down the drain... 

There's not even a single clean surface for him to cook.

Now IV is really pissed . 

No, he's beyond pissed. 

He's seeing red. 

He grabs a trash bag from the cabinet and starts throwing everything in sight into it. 

Nothing is safe. 

Pots, pans, porcelain dishes, silverware… all of it is being thrown into the trash bag. 

IV can hear the shattering of things breaking as he does it, not caring in the least. He's enjoying the sound. 

If he has to look at this for one more second, he's gonna explode!

The noise alerts the living room full of people, Oliver included. 

Oliver walks into the kitchen, looking confused when he sees IV throwing everything into the black garbage bag. A few stragglers follow him, curious to what all of the commotion is. 

“Hey, hey… IV, what are you doing? What's going on?” Oliver tries to figure out IV's actions, placing a hand on his forearm like he so often does. 

But IV immediately recoils this time, shrugging his arm out of his grasp. 

“Don't touch me!” IV yells, “Don't you ever touch me again!”  

IV's voice is so loud, it booms throughout the house until there are only dramatic echoes left behind. 

Oliver pulls his hand back, startled at his sudden outburst. 

IV pauses, looking at him and seeing the defeated look on his face, and the confused expressions on the faces of the people standing behind him. 

He drops the trash bag onto the floor with a loud clang, before letting out an embarrassing sob and going to walk around everyone to his room. 

He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, and on the way he passes the man who just arrived today, mumbling, “Sorry, excuse me.”

The man steps aside, letting him pass without saying anything. But IV can feel his eyes follow him to his room. 

He slams the door shut, and IV vows not to leave until tomorrow morning, when everyone is gone or asleep. 

III:

 

He watched the whole thing unfold- 

the guy who lives here having an absolute meltdown, trying to throw away the entire contents of their kitchen.

Then, him losing his absolute shit when Oliver touched him. 

And finally, him being so polite still, when he asked to step around him, mumbling “ Sorry, excuse me, ” even though he was clearly in the middle of a crisis. 

III watches him closely as he walks away, going to his room and slamming the door shut. 

Oliver blows out a deep, slow breath, like he is stressed out,  and then quietly returns to the living room. 

Everyone else follows him. 

But not III. 

He walks over to the trash bag dumped onto the floor. He opens in, reaching carefully inside, pulling out the contents that aren't fragments of shattered glass. 

Nobody is paying him any attention. 

He washes everything he can salvage, and then wipes down the counters and the stovetop. 

He ties up the garbage bag full of broken glass and sets it to the side. 

He doesn't exactly know why he is doing this, just that it feels important. 

The guy, who was so very, very upset earlier. still seems familiar, almost like an old, long-lost friend. 

But III still can't place him. 

He does it all willingly, regardless. 

IV: 

The next morning, IV decides to skip class, and he tries very hard not to worry about the repressions of this decision. 

He is too embarrassed about his massive blowup last night to show his face anywhere today. 

He had more strange dreams last night;  ones that involved the man from the library again, and in a new development, also the traveler from the bus. 

He's given up on trying to figure out what they mean for the time being. He has no energy left for it anymore.

He waits until he hears a series of footsteps heading out of the house before leaving his room.

Hopefully everyone's gone now. 

When he finally convinces himself to go into the kitchen for some water, he does a double take. 

Everything is clean and put away. 

Even the things he threw into the trash bag?

He pauses. 

There's no way Oliver or Dylan did this. 

Then who…? 

He hears a quiet cough from the living room, and it distracts him enough to wander there and peek his head inside the room. 

He sees the man from the night before, the tall traveler who just arrived, and he is going around tidying up the room. 

IV is still confused by the nostalgic feeling he experiences every time he sees him. 

IV clears his throat. “What are you doing?”

The man flinches, startled, not noticing IV's presence until now.

“Just… picking up a bit,” He says, picking up a throw pillow off of the floor, dusting it off,  and placing it back on the couch.

IV's brows furrow. “Why?”

The man shrugs. “I don't know… It just feels important.”

IV doesn't know what he could possibly mean by that.. But, man, his eyes seem so familiar…

IV scratches his head and sighs. He looks over the man again, noting his very  thin frame and pale appearance. 

IV might not have much to offer, but he probably has more than this guy.

“Want some breakfast?” He awkwardly offers.

“Sure,” The man smiles at IV, and IV feels more strange waves of nostalgia float back over him. 

“I'm assuming it was you who cleaned the kitchen too then?”

“Yeah,” He answers, simply.

“But why?” IV asks again. 

He pauses, not immediately answering this time, like he is thinking over his words carefully. 

“You just seemed so upset… I just wanted to help.”

“What do you care? You don't even know me.”

His eyes widen at the sudden snap back. “I know I don't, but I feel like I do.”

IV thinks that's odd. Why do they both feel like they already know each other?

IV takes a moment to study him again. He's thin, and taller than anyone he's ever met before. His body language and voice are unique. Surely, IV would remember if he knew him… Yet, he doesn't.

IV shrugs it off, grabbing a clean pan and getting ready to cook. The moment his hand closes around the handle, he realizes how nice of a change this is. For once, he doesn't have to do dishes before cooking. 

“Thank you,” IV quietly murmurs, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

The man stays quiet too but tilts his head to the side, inquisitively, so IV elaborates further. 

“It might seem like nobody cares, but I do. I really appreciate it.”

He fully smiles now, and it's a beautiful smile that IV could instantly fall in love with.

He looks away. He's already fallen in love too easily, and look where it's gotten him.

Maybe next time will be different though, IV thinks.

No, he isn't risking it.

From here on out, he is only focusing on himself. 

He thinks back to last night. He was so mad- madder than he ever has been in his whole life, so mad that he felt nothing. A strange numbness had washed over him. 

He never wants to feel this feeling ever again, but he does know that he doesn't feel the same about Oliver anymore. That ship has sailed, and Oliver completely ruined it. 

He just hopes he can recover now.

“You okay?”

The question snaps IV out of his head. He looks back at the man.

“Yeah, sorry.” He cracks the eggs into the pan and sets some bread into the toaster. “All we have is eggs and toast…”

“That sounds fine to me,” He says, still grinning. 

IV smiles back, starting to cook while the man stands next to him.

“So, are you a traveler?”

He chuckles, but it almost sounds like a scoff. “Yeah, I guess. What made you think so?”

“The way you're dressed,” IV says. “Every traveler has those boots and pants.”

He laughs again, a sound that IV could really get used to.

“Well, they're very durable. It's practical, not for looks.”

IV flips the eggs and waits for the toast to be done.

“So, where’d you come from, and where are you going?”

The man suddenly doesn't look as happy as before.

He tells IV where his hometown was, and then speaks of the future. “I don't know if I'll stay here much longer. Things haven't gone very smoothly here…”

IV looks at him, curiously, waiting for more details.

“This party was kind've a last-ditch effort for me to see if I could find anyone I connected with here,” He explains. 

“Oh,” IV says, “And did you?”

The man shrugs. “I mean, Amber seems okay… We like some of the same music.” There's a pause, like he is thinking. “Oliver seems like a complete tool though, honestly.”

IV isn't expecting that and bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Yeah, well, you're onto something there,” IV says when he regains his breath.

He smiles again, watching as IV butters their toast and sets them onto the two plates, beside the eggs.

IV hands him a plate. “We'll have to eat in the living room. Sorry, we don't have a table.”

He takes the plate happily, waiting for IV to lead the way. 

III:

 

He was grateful that he was allowed to crash on the couch last night. It was far better than being outside in the cold, alone.

He had more strange dreams, but this time, one of the people in his dreams was the man who lives here- the man who completely broke down last night, the man who just cooked him eggs and toast a minute ago.

He doesn't mention it, but internally he is wondering what the hell happened last night. It's none of his business though- he should just be happy he was offered a warm place to sleep and free food. 

He takes the plate and follows the man back into the living room.

III lets him pick his seat first, and then sits down on the couch opposite him.

“Thank you for the food,” III says.

“Thank you again for cleaning up,” He replies.

III doesn't know what else to say, so he quietly eats his breakfast, while stealing more glances at the man.

He's wearing baggy clothes, with messy, dirty-blonde hair. All he knows about him is that he has a guitar, lives here, and seemingly doesn't like Oliver whatsoever.

And the fact that III feels like he already knows him.

There's not much to go on, but III tries to initiate a conversation anyway.

“So you play guitar? I saw your case on the bus.”

He swallows and then nods. “Yeah, I'm taking lessons at school right now.”

III thinks that's cute; that he is approaching it in an educational way, and not just teaching himself guitar in a basement to be in some shitty punk band.

“I play too,” III offers. “The bass, I mean.”

His eyes widen, suddenly interested. “Really? That's so cool. The bass seems so much harder to learn than guitar.”

III laughs, “How? It's two less strings?”

“Yeah, but the guitar is mostly melody, the bass seems more dependent on rhythm…. I don't know, I just can't wrap my mind around it.”

“If you can play guitar, you could play bass,” III replies. “I could show you sometime.”

He pauses, holding his fork in front of his mouth, halting on his next bite of food. “Really? That sounds cool.”

III nods, then pauses. “I mean, if I don't leave first of course.”

“Right,” He says, his voice disappointed.

III instantly feels bad for getting his hopes up, and then reminding him that he might be hightailing it out of town at any moment.

“Well, maybe I could still show you before I leave,” III considers.

The man takes a few more bites of food. After he swallows, he extends his hand. 

“I'm IV by the way.”

III reaches out and shakes it. “III.”

“Nice to meet you, III.”

“Nice to meet you, IV.”

IV…

Why does that ring a bell too?

IV: 

 

He was having a good time talking to this random traveler who crashed on his couch last night, and it wasn't just because he cleaned up the house. 

Something about him was genuinely curious to IV.

Perhaps it was because the idea of traveling from town to town on a whim was absurd to IV… Or maybe it was because he seemed genuinely nice, and IV had a terrible habit of befriending assholes lately (besides the girls, of course.)

But as they finished breakfast, IV realized he didn't want to part ways with III yet.

“Could you get your bass today?” IV asks out of nowhere, but the question was bubbling up inside him until he couldn't hold it in anymore.

III looks, rightfully, taken aback by the question.

“Today?”

“Yeah,” IV says. “I don't have any plans. Do you?”

He laughs, and it's probably because IV doesn't understand the traveling lifestyle whatsoever. He has no clue what the daily life of a traveler would consist of.

“Not unless you count designated meals at the church.”

IV squints his eyes, not fully understanding.

“No, I don't,” He clarifies. “But I do have to go to the church this evening. I… owe someone a favor,” He says.

“So can you?” IV asks again, noting that he is probably appearing desperate but not really caring. He needs a distraction from this house and from school and Oliver and everything else…

He just can't get emotionally involved.

He reminds himself of this, although he doubts he has anything to worry about. There's a ninety percent chance this guy isn't that interested in getting to know him, especially since he could be leaving at any moment.

“Well, I could…” He starts, “But it would take a long time. I don't have any more change for the bus, I'd have to walk.” 

IV can hear it in his voice, how sad and ashamed he sounds of that fact. IV doesn't think being broke is all that uncommon or shameful. He's barely scraping by himself, so he's not one to judge.

“I have bus passes you could use,” IV offers. “Oh… But they would need to scan my student ID… I'd have to be with you….”

“Well, you said you didn't have plans today, right?” III asks, and IV smirks, knowing what he is hinting at.

“Come with me to get my bass, and then we can come back here and play for the rest of the day.”

To IV, this sounds perfect. Slightly insane, but perfect. 

He can spend the day with this stranger, distract himself with music, and the cherry on top is that III will probably be leaving town soon- so IV doesn't have to be weary or self-conscious around him. 

There's no use in worrying about preserving an image when the person he's with is going to disappear soon. 

“Okay,” IV agrees. “I'll go with you to get your bass.”

They each get ready, and then meet back up in the kitchen. 

IV plans their bus route, since he's more accustomed to the local transportation system. III bundles up and then grabs his plastic bag filled with more clothing. He seems to be planning to bring it with him, but IV stops him.

“You can leave your bag in my room if you want. Nobody goes in there, it'll be safe.”

III looks very skeptical of the offer, but IV can't blame him because he doesn't know how usual or unusual it is to receive an offer like this as a traveler.

“Okay,” III says. “But if you steal anything from me, I will seriously kick your ass.” His voice is very stern and serious all of a sudden.

IV only chuckles, “Why would I do that? It just seems easier for you not to have to lug all of your shit everywhere.”

III looks pensive, as if he's studying IV to see if he's being honest.

“You'd be surprised by the shit I've dealt with here.”

IV doesn't like the sad expression on his face. It invokes a strange physical reaction from him, sadness and anger, that he doesn't quite understand.

But, IV has been rather sad and angry in general lately. It's probably just seeping out into other situations now.

IV doesn't reply to III's last comment, instead he simply asks “Ready to go?” after they set III's stuff into his room.

“Ready,” III confirms.

Together, they set off outside towards the bus stop.

 

Notes:

I overthought IV and III's conversations for entirely too many days, so i just forced myself to post this today. Sorry for lack of II, he is next.

Chapter 16: Sixteen

Summary:

First hangouts, everyone's getting closer <3

III :

 

Frankly, he was surprised when IV asked him to go get his bass today.

His first instinct was to say no, worried that he was being set up to be robbed again or something (especially once IV offered for him to keep his bag in his room too.)

But III took a deep breath and calmed down. 

Just because he had one bad experience, it doesn't mean everyone is out to get him now. Not everyone is evil. 

But he's keeping his guard up a little, just in case.

Plus, this guy seems nice. 

Nowhere does he see the angry, upset guy from last night. He can't believe it's the same person honestly. If he didn't witness it for himself, he wouldn't believe it.

This man cooked him breakfast and is letting him use his bus passes, for no reason other than the fact that III cleaned up the mess from the party a bit, and that he wants to play music together.

He wonders why he was so eager. 

Maybe he is just lonely. III could relate to that. Although, how could you be lonely when there's parties at your house all of the time?

Perhaps he just really wants to learn about the bass. III kind've doubts the second option- nobody is that excited to learn the bass, right? 

He thinks back to telling IV that he went to the party as his last hope of meeting someone he connected with.

The odds are small, but maybe IV was who he was looking for. 

He's felt strange since meeting him, and the weird ass dreams last night didn't help. 

Either way, now they are sitting on the bus next to each other, heading towards Maisie's neighborhood.

III texted her on the way, letting her know that he's dropping by quickly to grab the bass. 

She wrote back that that would be fine, and thanked him for the heads up.

God, what did he do to deserve her? He almost misses her, even though he saw her last night. He hopes tonight he can talk to her more while she's at the church, but he knows she's a very busy person.

He snaps out of his thoughts when IV nudges him, bumping his elbow into III's arm. 

III looks at him, and IV stands. “Our stop,” He says, and III's eyes widen. The bus ride went by faster than expected while he was in his head. If IV wasn't with him, he would've definitely missed his stop.

III stands and then follows IV off the bus. He realizes that he feels naked without carrying anything. He used to curse about his pack weighing him down, but it became comforting over time, and now he really misses it.

He sighs, and the sound of the bus pulling away drowns the sound out. 

IV turns and smiles brightly, “Where to?”

III smirks at his enthusiasm, still trying to figure him out. 

III looks around and realizes he hasn't gone to Maisie's house from this direction before. He's not actually sure which direction to go in. 

His face drops. “Fuck,” III breathes out, looking around for location markers he might recognize.

“What's wrong?” 

III shakes his head back and forth, “I don't know how to get there from wherever we are.”

“Well, where exactly are we going?”

“A friend's,” III says. He wants to keep it vague, not wanting to broadcast Maisie's address or where he keeps his current most valuable possession.

IV tilts his head to the side. “That's not much to go off of.”

III knows he's trying to be helpful, but he's still weary.

He eventually decides that he can tell IV the name of Maisie's street, but that he is going to make him wait a few houses away.

Hopefully that doesn't come off as super fuckin’ rude, but III isn't taking any chances.

He tells IV her street name, and IV immediately knows what direction to walk in.

“When we get close, I'll need you to wait at the end of the block,” III says.

IV looks confused, and III doesn't blame him.

“It's a long story, but my friend is doing me a big favor. I don't wanna air out their address, or where I keep my stuff.”

“Oh,” IV says, “Yeah, okay… That's no problem.”

III is thankful IV doesn't ask questions about it. He just agrees and then moves on.

“So, how'd you end up here, out of all places?”

III chuckles. “Well, the train stops here.”

“The train? Amtrak?”

III laughs again. “No, not Amtrak. The GMRC.”

“What the hell is that?”

“The Green Mountain Railroad,” III answers, amused, watching IV becoming more and more lost. 

“When did they build that train route? I've never heard of it.” He says, and his innocence kills III.

“It's not a passenger train,” III says, laughing still. “It's a freight train. You hide from security, hop it, and then pray for your life that you don't freeze to death or lose a limb in the process.”

Realization hits IV. He looks equally horrified and shocked.

“That's crazy,” He says. “ You did that?”

III nods. “Yeah, only as a last resort if I couldn't hitch a ride instead.”

IV's eyes somehow grow even bigger. “Hitch? Like hitchhike? People still do that?”

III laughs again. “Yeah, it's just a lot harder to get a ride these days.”

“That all sounds so… dangerous,” He says. 

III shrugs. “The trains, yeah. Hitchhiking is pretty safe. Most of the people who picked me up were older white ladies. They had more of a reason to be scared of me, than the other way around.”

“You don't look threatening, though,” IV says.

“Really?”

IV studies him. “Well, you're pretty tall. I guess you could be threatening. But you seem kind hearted, and that's nothing to be afraid of.”

III wants to scoff, but he holds it back. 

“What would you know?” III asks. “I could be a serial killer.”

IV smirks. “You could , but I don't really get that vibe from you, sorry.”

“Well, I guess you'll find out,” III teases. 

IV side-eyes him. “Stop bluffing,” He mumbles. 

They finally reach an area that III recognizes, and he pauses, grabbing IV's shoulder and stopping him.

“Okay, wait here. I'll be right back.”

IV nods, pulling out his phone to kill the time as he waits. 

III walks down the street, towards Maisie's lilac house. He looks over his shoulder a few times to make sure IV isn't following him.

He's staying exactly where III told him to.

Good.

He runs up the few stairs, going to his bass on the porch. He grabs it quickly and then disappears. He hopes Maisie wasn't expecting to chitchat, but he will see her later tonight anyways.

He walks back to IV, bass in hand, “Okay, lets go.”

“That was fast.”

“Well, we don't have all day,” III says, even though he kind've does. He can't forget that he has to bring his bass back later, and still go to the church.

IV gives him a funny look, but says nothing. He walks back down the street towards the bus stop with III.

Another quick bus ride later, a short walk, and then they arrive back at IV's place.

III notes that the contrast between this apartment during the day versus at night is remarkable. It seems like two different houses. 

During the day, it's peaceful and homey.

And at night, it's absolute chaos.

Strange .

III loves chaos sometimes, but right now he thinks he likes the daytime version of the house better.

He follows IV to his room, and IV makes a space for III to sit and set his bass down.

“Okay!” IV says, sitting on his bed. “Let me see it.”

III laughs. “It's not the holy grail of basses, okay? But I quite like it.”

He unzips the case and pulls the bass out, handing it over to IV.

“Damn,” IV says, “This thing is fucking heavy.” He sets it on his lap, like he's about to try to play it. He looks down at it, gazing at the color and the dark wood of the fretboard. “It's beautiful though.”

III smiles. “It is, isn't it?”

“Where'd you find this thing anyways?”

“Church tag sale,” III answers.

“Damn. I've been missing out. I need to start going to those.”

“Let me see your guitar.”

IV sets the bass on the bed. He stands and walks across the room to grab his guitar.

“I have an acoustic, too, but that's in the closet. I usually only practice on my electric.”

He hands the guitar to III, and III takes it. He looks it over, appreciating the baby blue color. He wouldn't have guessed that IV would have chosen this model, but it's oddly fitting somehow.

“It's great,” III says. 

IV smiles brightly, seemingly happy about III's approval. 

III starts playing some songs he's memorized, quickly realizing that the guitar is out of tune. 

“Do you have a tuner?”

“Yeah, but I usually just use my phone.”

III shakes his head. “No, don't do that. Use the real tuner if you have one. They work way better than the apps.”

“Oh, really? I didn't know that.”

“Yeah,” III says. “When's the last time you played this?”

“Yesterday?” IV answers shyly, “Why?”

“It's out of tune,” III says. 

IV's face goes slightly red, embarrassed. III feels bad, but he wanted to give good advice. 

“It's fine,” III says. “Just use the real tuner. And tune it every time you play.”

IV retrieves the tuner from on top of his dresser, handing it to III. 

“ Every time?”

III laughs. “It's really not that hard , is it?”

IV breaks into a smile too, “No, it's really not. I just like to bitch.”

III snorts, “Well, at least you're honest.”

IV shrugs. 

III tunes the guitar for him before handing it back.

“Did you really wanna learn about the bass or did you just wanna play something together?”

“A little bit of both, maybe.”

“Okay,” III says. “So the guitar is E, A, D, G, B, E, while the bass is only E, A, D, G.”

“Right.”

“And, while you can play chords on the bass, it's uncommon. You usually play the root note of a chord instead, or it'll kind've just sound shitty.”

IV laughs. “Okay… That's different.”

“Do you read sheet music or tabs?”

“Both, but usually tabs.”

“Okay, then try playing this.” III goes into his phone and opens his photo gallery, where he has screenshots of different song tabs.

The easiest one he can find is probably “ Stand By Me,” so he makes it full-screen and hands his phone to IV.

IV studies it for a while, then starts trying to play the first few notes.

He uses his thumb to pick at the strings, still used to the guitar, and III watches in amusement for a moment. 

IV pauses. “This seems weird… Am I doing it right?”

III snorts, “No, not really.”

IV scoffs, “Then show me the right way!”

III laughs again. “That was really entertaining though.”

IV gives him a playful glare.

“Well, you're picking the strings with your thumb, like the guitar. You don't really play it like that. You can use a pick, but if you use your fingers you do finger-picking differently. You rest your thumb on the pickup and leave it there. Then you pluck the strings upwards to the next string, one by one, alternating between your middle and index finger.”

IV looks confused, but he tries to reposition his hand differently.

III doesn't know what he's trying to do, but it's still not correct at all. He holds back from laughing again, afraid of upsetting him. 

“Closer… But that's not it either.”

IV gets frustrated, going to hand the bass back, but III stops him. 

“No, no, no, wait a second. I can show you.”

He moves to sit next to IV on the bed, looking down over his shoulder.

“Okay,” III says. “Can I show you the hand positioning?”

IV looks up at him, and III takes a moment to appreciate his bright blue eyes. 

IV nods, breaking eye contact and looking back down at his hand.

III reaches down and gently positions IV's hand for him.

He places IV's thumb on the pickup. “Your thumb goes here, and stays here. Don't move it.”

IV nods again. 

III taps his index and middle fingers, “These two alternate.”

He places IV's fingers near the top string. “You pluck the string like this… Kind've like they're walking on the string.”

III gently moves IV's fingers for him, like he's a puppet that III is controlling. 

He plays a few notes, and then lets go of IV's hands. He suddenly realizes how close they are sitting, and moves back.

He looks at IV. “Make more sense now?”

IV tries it for himself, playing a few notes and walking his fingers up and down the strings.

“Huh. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense.”

He looks back at III's phone, and attempts to play the song again.

This time, it's much better, already recognizable.

“Good job,” III says, noting his immediate improvement.

IV stops and presses his hand to the strings, muting the sound. “Thank you. That was a lot better, right?”

III nods. “Yeah, it was.”

IV smiles brightly, and III feels weird again for a second. He almost feels sick. Maybe he's just still hungry…

“Okay, that's enough bass lessons for today!” IV declares, handing the bass back over and grabbing his guitar instead. “Let's play something. What kind of music do you like?”

II:

It was Sunday now.

II was feeling quite antsy about meeting Dylan and having his first practice with his band.

He kept reminding himself that doing this, and coming out of his shell more, was a good thing.

He'd done a good job of it lately- between joining the gym and venturing into random libraries and jogging through parts of the city he didn't know; he felt like he was improving.

And it paid off. He didn't even need sleeping medicine anymore.

His sleep was consistently getting better, it was just those strange dreams that wouldn't go away now.

He tried to pay them no mind, even if they were becoming increasingly more detailed.

Still, two of the people remained mysterious. Only the guy from the library had a recognizable face.

II wondered why that was, but he was also too busy to dwell on it.

It felt good to feel busy.

Being early in the morning, he decides to take another jog.

He takes the same path as the previous time, walking and jogging through the parts of the city he isn't familiar with. 

He goes by the same restaurants and shops, before passing through the wooded area again.

Coincidentally, he runs out of breath at the campsite once more.

He's not showing any signs of improvement, but it's only been a few days. It's absurd to expect results this quickly.

The campsite looks the same, with the ruined tarp, old pizza box, and half burned romance book.

Apparently, nobody is using this spot at the moment.

It makes him feel a bit better about jogging through it. 

At least he isn't disrupting anyone's privacy.

When he gets back to the house, he is covered in sweat. He thinks about taking a shower, but then decides that it would be useless. His next task is to sit down at his drum set and play for a while, so showering could wait. 

He plays for a long time- perhaps the longest single session he's ever done.

He thinks it's his nerves about later, making him practice extra hard today.

But no matter how much he practices, talent for skills like this don't happen in a day.

He sets the drumsticks down finally, wiping his brow and standing from behind the kit.

He showers, and he takes his time, drawing it out as long as possible. Thoughts are slowly passing through his mind, and he realizes that he thinks he does some of his best thinking in the shower.

He calms his nerves about practice. He's already decided that if it doesn't go well, he can tell Dylan it's not the right fit for him. 

He thinks about his health. He's made a great improvement over the last few weeks, and at least he can sleep now. But the dreams still worry him. He doesn't know if they're normal or not. Hopefully it's not a lingering side effect from those sleeping meds. 

He'll just wait it out a bit longer. Maybe they'll go away.

He strangely keeps thinking back to the wooded area that he's been jogging through- specifically the abandoned campsite.

It makes him really appreciate what he has. Seeing the way that others live, with so much less, saddens him.

II sighs, rinsing the conditioner from his hair before turning the shower off. He dries himself in the bathroom, before going to get dressed.

He spends entirely too long choosing an outfit. It reminds him of being back in high school, trying to pick the coolest thing he owns to impress people on the first day of class.

He smiles at the thought, lost in a daydream of nostalgia. 

He finally decides, choosing his favorite band tee, black skinny jeans, and his checkered Vans.

This will have to be good enough. 

He doesn't really own anything “ nicer ” anyways.

He looks at the clock and it's still a bit early.

He has a few hours left until he is supposed to meet Dylan.

He watches some more YouTube videos, then cooks a late lunch.

He tries another new recipe since he's been enjoying cooking so much lately. 

Today, he makes roasted potatoes with sour cream, cheese, and fresh herbs.

He nails it on the first try, eating far more than he should simply because it tasted too good and he couldn't stop eating.

Maybe all the exercise is to blame for his crazy appetite lately… Maybe that explains his newfound urge to cook more too.

That would make sense. 

He sits on his couch and waits until his stomach settles, vowing not to fall asleep. 

He keeps himself awake by scrolling on his phone, and then switching to the fantasy book he borrowed from the library.

Time passes quickly while reading, and soon the alarm he set on his phone is going off.

He silences it, then texts Dylan for details.

“Where should I meet you?”

A minute passes, and then he receives a response.

“Meet at my place. We practice just a few houses down. I'll bring you there.”

Below that text is an address. 

II texts back, and then begins packing his backpack. He places some snacks and his favorite drumsticks into the bag, as well as a water bottle and his keys.

He was told they had a drumset at the practice space, thankfully, because he doesn't want to deal with trying to transport his own kit back and forth. 

He wonders if their kit will be a banged-up piece of shit, or if it'll be nicer than his. The curiosity of that alone is driving him crazy. 

After he's paced the house twenty times, he decides he is ready and then sets out, walking towards Dylan's apartment.

IV :

 

IV was having a great time watching III play his bass.

After he showed IV some pointers, III and IV played a few songs that they both knew together. They luckily had a fairly similar taste in music. 

Then IV made the grave mistake of bringing out his amp, but he swore he saw hearts appear in III's eyes.

III plugged his bass in, and has been chaotically playing ever since.

IV didn't expect III to be so animated, but as soon as the bass was plugged in, he turned into someone new- like some sort of character playing while doing spins in his room, headbanging with the rhythm.

IV just smiles and gives III approving nods whenever III nails an impressive bass line. III sneaks glances at IV in between spins, seeming to be taking note of if IV is still having a good time.

He is. 

He really is.

IV could watch him play forever, like he is in a trance.

Unfortunately, he is pulled out of his trance by a persistent knocking sound. 

It only grows louder, and IV eventually realizes it was coming from the front door.

He tells III, “Be right back!” but he's unsure if III even hears him. 

He jogs to the door, praying that when he opens it, it isn't the police or the sheriff delivering an eviction notice.

People usually don't knock here unless it's the police. 

He holds his breath and swings the door open, expecting the worst.

 

Before him, stands the man from the library.

IV's brain glitches.

The man before him looks equally shocked for a moment.

“Hi, I'm looking for Dylan?” He says.

IV's brain is still catching up, and he takes too long to respond.

“Am I at the wrong house?” He asks.

IV snaps himself out of it. 

“Oh! Sorry-” the noise from III's bass is drowning out this man's voice. IV can barely hear him.

“One second!” IV shouts, before running back to his bedroom and frantically yanking the cord out from the amp.

III is appalled, “Hey! What the hell?”

IV giggles, “Shh! Be right back.”

He goes back to the door and the man looks even more confused than before.

“I'm sorry. Now I can hear you.”

“That's okay. I'm looking for Dylan. Is this the right place?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” IV glances at Dylan's door, seeing that it is open but that the bathroom door is shut. He can hear the sound of running water.

“I think he might be finishing up a shower,” IV regretfully says, feeling awkward.

“Oh,” He says. “That's okay, I can wait outside.”

The man goes to turn and leave but IV stops him. 

“No, don't be silly! It's cold out, you can wait in here.”

The man looks skeptical, but eventually softly smiles and steps inside. “Sure, thanks.”

IV shows him to the living room, extremely thankful now that III picked up the place and that Oliver hasn't been home yet.

Why is he trying to impress this guy?

The girls would say it's because he has a crush on him. But IV doesn't know if that's the case anymore, after everything that's happened recently.

IV is trying not to have crushes at all.

“You can wait here,” IV says, motioning to the couch and chairs. “He'll probably be right out. He doesn't take long.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, and IV feels strange again.

“Thank you,” The man says, and IV gives him a smile before leaving to return to his room.

He really can't believe the guy from the library is here… 

In his apartment…

What the fuck? 

IV thinks back to his dreams and almost has a meltdown. 

Two out of the three people from his dreams are currently in his apartment… What are the odds?

Back in his room, III is sitting on his bed, holding his bass and looking upset. “Why'd you mute me? I was killing it!”

IV laughs. “Sorry, someone was at the door and I couldn't hear them.”

III studies IV for a moment, before setting the bass to the side. 

“Why do you look like that all of a sudden?”

“Like what?” IV forces his face to go neutral.

“Like you saw a ghost.”

“I didn't.”

“Or…” III considers, “Like you just saw your crush.”

IV's eyes widen. 

“That's crazy. You don't even know me- how would you know what I look like when I see a crush?”

III grins and shrugs, “Maybe I'll go see who the lucky person is myself…”

He makes his way for the door but IV panics, grabbing his arm. “No! Don't!”

III just smiles bigger. “So it is a crush.”

IV shakes his head. “No, it's…it's  more complicated than that.”

III tilts his head to the side, looking down at him, “Hmm. That's mysterious.”

“Yes,” IV agrees. “And it will keep being mysterious because I'm not telling you about it. Like I said, you hardly know me.”

III looks a bit taken back by that, but IV was just being truthful. He's just trying to protect himself. He can't keep opening up to strangers who will only end up hurting him.

It's an act of self-preservation, nothing personal.

But III doesn't know about all of that.

He awkwardly fumbles around with his bass strap, picking at loose threads from where it's fraying.

“Well, on that note… I should get going,” He mumbles, standing.

“III- wait. I didn't mean anything by that, I just- I… “ IV doesn't know how to apologize or explain without saying too much.

“No, it's okay. Like I said, I have something to do this evening anyways…”

He starts putting on his coat and putting his bass back into the case. IV can't help but feel like he just ruined something.

“Maybe we can play again sometime?” IV asks, “If you don't leave first, of course.”

III pauses and really thinks about his response before he speaks. “Yeah, perhaps. I don't know what I'm doing yet.”

“Okay…” IV says. 

He doesn't know how they will make plans to hangout again, even if III wanted to. They haven't exchanged numbers and III is staying… outside somewhere? 

He's not even sure.

He doesn't know anything about traveling, but he does know that you probably don't go around telling people where you sleep or camp, for safety reasons.

IV doesn't want to ask for his phone number, scared it will come off too forward, but he did have a great time today, and he would like to hangout with III again.

He walks III towards the door, a sad feeling coming over him with each step.

III opens the door, and just before he steps through it, he pauses and turns to IV. 

“I did have a nice time today…” His voice is quiet and low. 

IV's eyes light up. “Yeah? Me too.”

III smiles, “Even if we're strangers with mysteries between us, we should do this again, at least once more before I leave.”

IV scratches his neck. “Well… you know where to find me,” He awkwardly says.

III chuckles. “Right. Goodnight, IV.”

“Goodnight,” IV replies. 

The door shuts behind III as he leaves and IV stares at it for a moment.

Maybe he didn't completely ruin things after all. 

II:

 

At Dylan's house, he awkwardly waits in the living room for Dylan to be ready. 

The man who let him into the apartment was the same man from the library, and from his dreams. 

He scrolls on his phone as he waits, but he is secretly focused on the man.

He returns to a room, II hears him talking to someone, and then a few moments later he escorts someone to the front door.

He didn't see the other person’s face, just their frame, but he heard their voice too and that was strangely familiar.

II doesn't know what is going on.

He thinks he's about to overanalyze everything and hightail it out of this house, when Dylan finally comes out of the bathroom.

He peeks into the living room. “II! You're here. Great! Sorry I'm running behind schedule. Let me get dressed and then we'll get outta here.”

“Yeah, sure,” II says, and then Dylan disappears again.

He's still paying more attention to the other guy in the house, watching curiously as he stares at the door for a second before turning and going back to the other room.

The door shuts quietly, and then he is gone from view.

What was that about? II wonders. 

Before he can think about it for too long, Dylan reappears and is dressed with his own bag packed. 

“Okay! Ready to go?”

II stands, grabbing his backpack and letting Dylan lead the way.

 

They walk down the street, and it's a surprisingly quick walk to II's delight. It's getting colder out now, and he hasn't adjusted to wearing layers upon layers yet. He definitely didn't dress properly.

“This is it,” Dylan says.

They approach a house but instead of heading to the front entrance, they walk around the side of the house and open a bulkhead door, climbing down cement stairs and entering a basement. II latches the door closed behind him, and then takes a look at the space.

The basement is somewhat furnished. It has cement floors, and hardly any heating, but it does have decor and furnishings like it's a work in progress.

II notes the band posters on the wall- some bands he likes, but some he despises.

It makes him question if this will work out again.

No hard feelings if it doesn't , he reminds himself.

Dylan walks over to three other guys. They are sitting close and holding basses and guitars and microphones while talking amongst themselves.

“Guys!” Dylan says, “This is II! The dedicated drummer I was telling you about.”

II instantly feels his face heat up. He really hopes that Dylan told the others that he's very new to this.

They all seem nice enough. After brief introductions, II learns that the vocalist is Mason, Dylan plays the bass, and Rob and Vince both play guitar.

They play through a song- their most popular one- and let II just listen.

II is happy that he likes the sound, and overall direction of the band. He expected worse, far worse. 

Once they finish, they pull up a laptop and play a recording of the same song from a few weeks ago.

“This is what our old drummer did with the song,” 

II watches the video, noting the stylistic choices the previous drummer made.

He is glad they show him the video so II can get a better feel for what sound they are going for, but II immediately knows he would do multiple things differently himself.

II goes to reach for the laptop. “Do you mind?”

Mason, hands it over freely. “Go ahead.”

II rewinds the video until the bridge plays, which is supposed to be building up for the chorus. 

He replays the bridge part twice.

“Do you like what he did there? Personally, I would speed up the tempo a bit.”

Mason looks to the others, and they all look unsure.

“Let's do a playthrough, and you could show us the difference.”

“Sure!” II sets the laptop down and then goes over, inspecting the kit for the first time.

It's not a bad one, if anything it originally cost more than his own drum set, but it does show signs of significant wear. Nothing is broken though, so II is pleased. He can definitely work with this. 

He spends a few minutes testing the different drums and symbols, adjusting them slightly to his liking.

“Okay, let's play through that part, then go into the chorus. The first time, I'll do it the way it is in the video. The second time, I'll do it the way that I think would sound better.”

“Sure,” Dylan says.

Everyone gets ready and then after the countdown from three to one, they begin playing.

II is impressed with everyone's ability to keep in time with each other. He can tell now that they take this more seriously than he originally thought. He's happy about that- not that he wouldn't be happy just playing in a garage band for fun, but being around other musicians who seem to be striving for something bigger is uplifting. 

They end the first playthrough, and II thinks he did a pretty good job at mimicking the old drummer's part.

On the second run through it, II plays it the way he first heard it in his head, before seeing the video.

He plays slightly faster, with more bass kicks and fills, which leads to a more dramatic drop in the chorus.

He thinks he was right, and that his version is better. Perhaps he already has an ego though, so he waits until they all stop and looks for feedback.

Dylan looks at him, smiling wide. “Wow! I knew recruiting you was a good idea!”

Mason agrees, nodding along. “Yeah, I liked your version way better.”

Rob and Vince seemingly agree too. 

II tries to hold back his pride but fails. He sports a bright smile.

This is the happiest he has been in months. 

Notes:

i swear, sometimes II doesn't want to be written, he just says "leave me out of all your drama, thanks!" 🙄👍😂

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Dreamworld