Chapter Text
A chilly breeze cuts through the branches. Before it can escape, a particularly unfortunate butterfly is knocked off its course. Desperately trying to regain balance, the insect flails and sputters in several directions. Pitifully, its antennae claw at the air. Despite its efforts, the butterfly fails to alter its course and collides with the cold concrete.
It’s eerily quiet on Pen Island.
Oscar is taking a walk in the park. He retreats further into his jacket after a gust of silent, frosty wind pierces him. The weather had never been so cruel before.
He tries to adjust to the silence which had begun to ring in his ears. He focuses on the brick path beneath him and the sounds of his shoes scraping against it.
Oscar notices a small blotch right ahead of him. Presuming it was a crunchy leaf worthy of crushing, he approaches and lifts his foot.
Only, this was no leaf.
Oscar puts down his leg and squats down to observe it.
A butterfly, in two halves, lays sprawled out on the ground. The color of its wings is faded and brown, though specks of green from its youth still permeates through the rot. Upon further inspection, the wings must have been torn apart by a bicycle tire zooming by.
Utterly disturbed, Oscar pops up and starts away.
In the distance, Oscar’s acquaintance Barbara sits on a park bench. Oscar has never heard her cry before, but senses — what he presumes — are her sobs through the cold air.
Grasshoper must've made her upset, Oscar ponders. I was wondering when they were finally going to get on each others’ nerves.
Always curious for some gossip – especially the kind involving his best friend – Oscar approaches Barbara.
Remembering how he must respect her, he forces a polite smile, and gives her a wave.
“Hi, Barb. Are you doing okay?”
She peers up from behind her hands, and immediately starts crying harder once she recognizes it’s Oscar.
“Hey, what’s wrong?!”
Oscar instinctively sits down beside her and his eyes drift towards a photograph she grips with both hands. Oscar asks to see it. Barb looks away to prevent herself from hyperventilating and presses the photo into his hand.
A photo of herself and Grasshoper at the cafe. Oscar notices how Grasshoper looks translucent. See-through.
“I…” Barb tries to collect herself. “Oscar, is it.. is it true that he moved away?”
Oscar’s eyes widen. His gaze darts back to the photo… Grasshoper was no longer there. He stares at Barb, his expression slightly scaring her. The eyes behind those blue glasses begin to sting, and his worries come out in a whisper.
“ Grasshoper moved away?”
Without even waiting for a response, he shoves the photo back in Barb’s hands and leaps to his feet. He sprints in the direction he came from, the anxious thoughts in his head suddenly crowding the silent space.
I must have heard her wrong, he never even mentioned moving away anywhere!
He bursts open the door to the hotel lobby and runs past the people in the lobby, nearly knocking over Fishsticks. Rather than waiting for the elevator to bring him upstairs, he flings open the door to the stairs and starts climbing three steps at a time. The struggle for oxygen burns his lungs, but he can't stop moving. If he did, his fiery paranoia would engulf him.
Grasshoper’s room is locked, but Oscar would get in at all costs. He lands fistful after fistful of panic on the wooden door.
“Grasshoper, open the door!” Oscar screams. Desperately, he takes a step back and looks up and down at the wooden door in front of him.
He takes a deep breath and gives the door the strongest kick he could muster, and surely enough, the door’s hinges break off and the door keels over inwards.
“Grassh-” Oscar is interrupted by a coughing fit. A mouthful of dust had intruded his lungs. Eyes watering, he slowly peers through his glasses into what remains of Grasshoper’s apartment.
What he sees horrifies him. All the furniture is gone. Gray, barren walls. Window shutters down. Had he come to the wrong place? The dirt clings to his shoe soles as he sticks his head into the doorway. He reads the number plate on the severed door. Yes, this is apartment 404, where Grasshoper lives. Had he moved apartments, and is now on a new floor? He remembers Barbara and others having done such a thing, but everyone on the island had heard about the change within minutes after it was confirmed.
Grasshoper didn’t even bother to tell his best friend that he’d be moving? This sounds ridiculously out of character, and Oscar feels a pang of sadness at the thought of Grasshoper keeping something like this from him.
If Grasshoper wasn’t going to show himself, Oscar would go searching.
Oscar waves some more dust out of his face. He starts down the floor’s corridor, footsteps thumping beneath him. He runs at full speed.
If someone was leaving the island, they must have boarded a ship!
He shakes his head to rid his cloudy vision, and sprints for the stairs. Descending flight after flight, he uses his spare breaths to call out Grasshoper’s name. He stumbles upon reaching the ground floor, then regains his footing to dash out of the building. He heads for the docks.
He approaches the pier, but there are no ships in sight. He checks the bulletin board, but no ships had visited the island in years.
Phew, Oscar sighs, He couldn’tve left after all. How else could you leave the island, if not with a boat?
Oscar feels a chuckle build up in his throat. He lets it out, letting the pants of laughter escape him into the cold evening air.
“He couldn’t have left after all,” he smiles.
Before he can celebrate his newfound assurance, the recollection of the encounter with Barbara jolts him alert.
Then, what was all of that with Barbara and the photo? Where is Grasshoper now? What happened to his apartment?
Oscar feels the anxiety beginning to bubble up in him again. Struggling to hold on to any semblance of comfort that he’d just acquired, he mutters.
“Grasshoper will be just fine. He hadn’t left the island. He couldn’t have. He must be pulling a prank on me. With Barbara. He must be keeping this a secret for a good reason. I can trust him.”
Despite his attempts to self-soothe, Oscar sprints away at full speed nonetheless.
Grasshopper must be playing a prank on me. He’s playing a prank on me, so he must be surprising me with something. He’s surprising me with something, so he must be challenging me to find him somewhere only we know. Perhaps he’s at the park, waiting for me to join him on one of those nature strolls.
Oscar runs quickly along the brick path, paying no attention to the mangled husk of the butterfly he nearly crushes underneath a stride. The bench where Barbara had been sitting was empty. A good sign , Oscar thinks, perhaps she is in on the prank.
He runs up the green hill, soft tall grass hugging his ankles. At the top, he looks around and finds the spot of the grass where he and his best friend loved to lay down and enjoy the smell of earth. Only now, his best friend was nowhere to be found. Not in this area, at least.
“Grass–ho–per–!” Oscar bellows out into the night air, bowing forward to devote every last gasp of air into yelling for his best friend’s name. He strains his ear for a response, but all he hears is his own “Grasshoper”, “Grasshoper”, “Grasshoper” ricocheted back at him by the surroundings. Oscar purses his lips, cold inhales from his nose slicing invisible gashes into his airways.
Oscar feels a tension between his brows beginning to form. His eyelids flutter quickly, warmth rapidly traveling to his lashes. He reaches up behind his glasses and wipes his eyes, hoping the reason he was teary was due to the outdoors, and not because his emotions and body conspired to betray him. No way was he going to cry right here!
Needing physical activity to refasten him to the present, he darts off once more towards the observation tower.
Oscar flings open the door and practically barrels into the front desk.
“Hiromasa, please let me onto the tower,” Oscar begs the receptionist, snatching a pen from the pen holder and scribbling his name on the sign-in sheet. “I need to go up because Grasshoper is waiting for me!”
Hiromasa – never one to process information quickly – blinks and stares wide-eyed as Oscar dashes past the desk and heads straight towards the elevators. He tilts his glasses while straining to recall what Oscar had meant by “Grasshoper”.
Oscar paces in the elevator. His jagged breaths begin to resemble the sound of metal scraping against metal. Thoughts swim around his head like schools of fish.
I can’t just forgive him for making me panic like this.
I’ll have to reprimand him for pulling such a reckless prank on me.
Overwhelming excitement fills his heart.
What has he planned for me?
He must be preparing something wonderful.
Anxious worries fill his head.
What if he’s not there, then what will I do?
What is this dreadful feeling?
The elevator door slides open, and Oscar steps out onto the platform. His heart sinks.
This was where he and Grasshoper had made promises to each other, underneath this very sky. Oscar remembers the plans for their future they had conjured together while gazing up at the stars. Grasshoper, Oscar’s favorite overdecorator, had explained to him how he would redesign this bleak towertop space and pump it full of color and vibrance.
Today, there is no color. The gray floors stretch all around, muting Oscar’s inner monologue.
He hears the sound of his own breathing.
He hears slight gusts of wind rustling through the strands of his hair.
Grasshoper is not here, Oscar realizes. Panic travels up and down his back in shivers.
Numb and devoid of words, he exits back the way he came.
I have to find him, Oscar repeats to himself. I have to find him.
Oscar leans on the elevator walls as it descends. His mind was now in the eye of his worries’ hurricane. He had exhausted all his emotions, but his will to find his best friend holds steadfast.
Grasshoper had never hidden something like this from him before. He had never needed to, since he and Oscar gushed about their lives’ every detail around each other. They were active volcanoes, the kind that built their own islands.
All Oscar wants now is answers. Answers, and someone to listen to him. Without Grasshoper next to him, Oscar could feel his mind pulling itself apart by the fibers. With the last edge of dusk light, Oscar returns to the apartment building.
Oscar walks in through the lobby and crosses the hall to Gary’s room. This old woman slightly terrified him. She felt like a version of Grasshoper without the warmth, just a thinker lost in thought, perpetually retreating into her stone cold self. She was not playful, the trait that initially drew Oscar to Grasshoper. However, she does keep her mind full of thoughts, and perhaps there was something she knew that Oscar didn’t know about his best friend.
He knocks on Gary’s door, the full wooden knocks resonating through the hall.
Silence.
Before he can lift his hand to knock again, Asami’s voice calls out to him.
“Don’t bother, Oscar! Ole lady moved out not too long ago,” the woman squeaks.
Oscar turns and watches as the short woman walks down the hall toward him. Asami’s arms are crossed and her face is tense.
“Hag didn’t even bother paying me back before she just dipped. It’s ridiculous,” she remarks. “How come you’re looking for her?”
“I need to find Grasshoper,” Oscar flatly admits. “What do you mean she dipped ?”
“Simple, she moved away,” Asami shrugs. “Didn’t Grasshoper do the same? I thought you of everyone would know.”
Oscar feels a twinge of anger at her nonchalance. “You’re being too calm about this, Asami. There aren’t any records of boats leaving. And yet, Grasshoper’s room is completely empty, and he’s nowhere to be found! Can you please tell me what you know?”
“Sounds like not even you nor his girlfriend were enough to keep him here,” Asami laughs coldly. “He probably got sick of all of us, Hell, maybe he got sick of himself. Either way—” she shrugs, “—not my problem anymore.”
“Can’t you please help me once?! Do you have no empathy for him? Have you completely forgotten your feelings for him?!”
Asami is taken aback by this accusatory statement. “I don’t know what was going through my head when I liked Grasshoper, and it doesn’t matter anyway. He chose Barbara, and that’s his loss. I’m not helping your sorry ass,” she snarks. She cocks her head one way and walks away from Oscar.
Oscar clenches his fists. He wanted to shout insults at Asami for disrespecting his best friend like this, but he knows Grasshoper would berate him for doing something like that. Grasshoper, whose soft voice could soothe Oscar’s fiery outcries into silence. Oh, his voice. Oscar could listen to it for days. Only, Grasshoper had been quite busy spending time with his girlfriend recently, and even hearing his voice had become a rarity.
Regardless, Oscar needs more than a goldfish woman’s spiteful opinion. He needs to find Grasshoper’s friends, like Tommy.
His legs beginning to ache, he drags himself to the elevator up to Tommy’s apartment.
He hears booming laughter from inside, slightly healing the loneliness in his heart. Oscar smiles slightly before knocking twice on the door.
He hears quick thumps running toward the door, and there was Tommy.
“Oscar! What’s the matter, man? Nice to see you!” Tommy’s voice resounds.
Oscar cuts straight to the point. “It’s about Grasshoper, have you seen him?”
Tommy looks back at him, puzzled. He seemed to be deep in thought, but before he could respond — “What’s the hold up, T?” Tyrone approaches from inside the apartment and slings one large arm over Tommy.
“This your friend? Hey, what’s up! Oscar, right? Come in!” Tyrone welcomes at an obnoxiously loud volume.
Seeing how tipsy Tommy’s friend was, Oscar waves his hands, “Oh, I really shouldn’t-”
“Yeah, Oscar! Wanna come in and have a few?” Tommy laughs heartily, beckoning Oscar inside.
“That’s not why I’m here!” Oscar cries. But Tyrone had rotated Tommy around, the two of them stumble back into the apartment. They are clearly no help, and very much preoccupied.
“Come in, come in Oscar! Let’s talk over drinks!” a guest whom Oscar didn’t recognize calls out.
The party scene is wild.
Music blasting. Fishsticks and Lucia playing table tennis, Tyrone and Tommy cheering them on. Steph and Miyu deep in conversation, a small crowd playing beer pong… and no one is sober.
A hand grabs his shoulder.
“Oscar, you’re here! Want some of this? Dudydude brought it!” It was Eva, presenting a large unopened, shiny bottle of vodka to Oscar.
“Eva, what do you know about Grasshoper?” Oscar needs to shout over the music into Eva’s ear to communicate.
“Grass..? Oh, yeah him!” Eva leans in, “Haven’t hung out with him in a while, but I’ve heard plenty about his cute little dates with his girlfriend. Such a cute couple. Hey, grab a seat and I’ll pour you some,” she offers.
“I need to go, Eva,” Oscar bargains, “thank you.” Oscar turns on his heel and speedwalks out of the festive party room, closing the door behind him. He hears roaring cheers, presumably from someone scoring at beer pong. The door muffles the chaos of the party just enough where Oscar can hear his own thoughts again.
What is he going to do now? Grasshoper’s friends – Eva, Tommy, Asami, all have nothing meaningful to say about where Grasshoper would have gone. Gary had disappeared.
Oscar is completely and utterly out of options.
Helplessly, he silently drags himself down the hall along to Grasshoper’s vacated apartment. He gently steps over the door, disfigured from its frame, and into the gray room. He looks around.
The walls are unadorned, missing their typical bright red and black checkerboard pattern. The room smells abandoned, no trace of life in the air.
His legs give out under him from the extensive amount of running he had done. Exhausted, he crumples to the floor, the strength drained from him. The dam breaks.
Oscar cries out, an incoherent wail erupts from his throat. He grips both biceps tightly, hot tears burning at his eyes. Hands reach up to his scalp and into his hair, and Oscar’s eyes widen as he feels the tears’ overflow blur his vision.
Feebly, he screams again. He cannot think, there is nothing he can say. The tears fall onto the ground and Oscar slams his fist into the cold carpet. He releases his anger onto the floor again, and again. The scent of new rug rises into his nose.
Grasshoper, Oscar bitterly contemplates, you have left me here.
“You never told me anything,” Oscar whispers.
“You never told me anything about this. You could have taken me with you.”
At this realization, Oscar feels another wave of grief wash over him and pull him under. He sinks his fingernails into his scalp. He sobs like a child in distress, missing his best friend.
Oscar was willing to follow Grasshoper anywhere. Together, they had explored every inch of the island. It was going to be the universe next, they had promised each other. Each time they went on their little quests, Oscar had come to love the way Grasshoper looked at him with his opaque eyes full of paths unexplored. He wishes he could just see those eyes again, even if their gaze orbited Barbara.
Barbara, with whom Grasshoper is madly in love. Everyone loves her. Hell, even Oscar himself had taken an interest in her before. There was no need to even try to compete, it was always going to be her.
He was never able to explain why a distinguished young woman like herself being with his best friend caused sharp pains in his heart.
Oscar is a mess. He struggles to catch his breath over the rapid sobs stabbing into him. He lays down completely on the carpet and faces the ceiling.
He clings onto the memories with Grasshoper. The hours they spent together. The conversations they had. The laughter. The weeks spent in each others’ rooms. He remembers Grasshoper himself. His smile. His birthmark. His beautiful mind full of stories. His charisma. His dark walnut hair he kept fresh with mint shampoo. Dark green had become Oscar’s second favorite color to his own lime green.
Oscar reaches into his soul and feels the tangled texture of his grief on his fingertips. The only man who can unravel his sorrows is gone.
A final burst of emotion escapes his lungs, and Oscar is weak all over.
The tear streaks on his face begin to dry, and Oscar whispers his best friend’s name once more.