So I panicked and yanked my arms from the figure. I staggered and, in my haste, failed to recognize my living room and the distance I had left between me and the couch. Falling over the back of it, I instinctively grabbed for the overhead, desperate to avoid hitting the coffee table.
The silhouette pursued and caught my wrists, amid my fingers grazing the couch’s fabric. I would have missed and fallen otherwise. Their grip was so tight it made my limbs twitch and my body wince, but they kept me from tumbling.
“Lentils?” The name resembled a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day—refreshing, enlightening, and calmed my nerves enough to make out the figure. The gleam of the T.V. illuminated him. What threw me off was the messy wavy brown locks scattered across his alarmed. Wicks rarely wore his hair loosely, even if he was relaxed around me to the point of doing it.
“You look so nice with your hair down, Wicks.” I flinched in pain as he tugged. “Ow.”
His eyes widened, and with a gentle but swift motion, he helped me up. “I didn’t mean to squeeze hard. Are you okay?” He inspected me, his hands hovering over me as he did, too worried to touch.
I nodded, resisting the urge to grasp my wrists. Regardless of the soreness, I didn’t want him to feel too bad for an accident. “I’m okay.” I remember trying to go to sleep in my room, not out here. Did I really sleepwalk again? “Sorry if I woke you?” The static behind me told me he was awake and probably changed it off the show he was watching. A telenovella perhaps? I smiled at the thought.
“I had trouble sleeping. You didn’t wake…me,” Wicks suddenly raised an accusatory eyebrow. “You rarely get out of it scared like that.”
All I had was a hazy collection of fragments from my dream running from a giant, Lev. The rest faded into obscurity the moment I snapped out of it. “It was a nightmare, that’s all.” A nightmare that’s my new reality. Peering at him, his gaze resembled a bunch of ice pricks on my skin. Agh. He’s expecting me to explain it. Of course he would. I usually talk incessantly about my nightmares. I flicked my eyes down, then to the T.V. behind me. Skip what’s going on, Lynette. Giggling anxiously, I hoped to distract him with another question and promise to hang out. “What were you watching? We can stay up and watch it together.”
He didn’t budge and to keep me from fleeing to my room; he pressed a heavy, steady palm against my shoulder. “Nope.” He forced me to face him, and in an inculpatory tone, he sassed. “You’re telling me,” he poked himself in the chest, “a normal nightmare caused you this much stress?”
The only time I sleepwalked was because we moved or I was under a lot of pressure. So, like a dog that tore up a sofa cushion, I lifted my head, begging for forgiveness. To my surprise, he looked worried. I hadn’t seen him scared in that way since I had food poisoning. I’m not dying or anything. His hand on my shoulder fell. “I thought work was going well?”
Resting on the back of the couch, I half-lied to Wicks. “I’m doing great. So much so that the boss congratulated me during my weekly review, but now I’m stressed out about whether I can live up to those expectations.” I kept my salary and year-end income a secret. If I told him about Edgar’s offer, he would investigate it, and the last thing I needed was for him to go there.
With a roll of his eyes and the release of tension on his shoulders, Wicks linked his arm with mine. He escorted me around the couch. “That’s a stupid concern, Lentils.” He stopped at it and bopped my nose. When I attempted retaliation, he gingerly pushed me onto the sofa.
I plunked down in dismay, ready to spring up. “Hey!”
“You deserved that for disrespecting my best friend.” Wick walked around the table, squinting the entire way, daring me to get up. I remained put, and he threw himself on the middle cushion. “You always put out your best effort. You might fail here and there, but you have nothing to worry about with working hard.”
If it was just a job, I’d be a lot more confident. “Yeah…”
Offended, his face clouded over with a scowl. “Don’t be like that, Lentils.” He nudged into my shoulder with his, “I admire that you don’t give up—you know that, right?”
You admire me? We were in different leagues. He and our sister, Charletta, were above me. I couldn’t compare to either of them. I gave him a nudge too, “and I admire that you’re perfect at everything else.”
Wicks chuckled, finding my words hilarious. “I’m not.” He retrieved the remote from his side and swung it up. “You’re living in a fantasy if you think I’m perfect at everything.” He used the screen light to read the buttons on the device.
“You said I can’t be mopey, so neither can you.”
As if it were a dagger, he pointed the remote at me. “It’s different with you.” He pulled back and waved it around like a conductor. “I only do things I’m naturally good at and drop something if I’m not. That’s why you think I’m so perfect. I give up easily, unlike you.”
You can brag once in a while! You’re failing to mention there is very little you aren’t good at! A nagging inner voice obsessed over my brother’s successes, fueling my complaints. He was incredible at sports, got high marks in our classes, and works at a place that pays him tons. A part of me tried to deny the jealousy stemmed from a na?ve hope of achieving something great too. “You’re the one motivating me to strive every day.”
He shyly turned his head and muttered a weak argument in Spanish. I scooted closer in reassurance and pressed my shoulder to his. “I’m sorry about earlier, Wicks.” He sounded like a child imitating a speedboat as he exhaled. I giggled, “what was that?!”
He playfully messed up my hair, a hint of flush on his olive complexion. He whispered, “shush,” to quiet me. I maintained my smile and fixed my curly locks, and he unexpectedly grasped my nearest elbow. He pushed it up. “Close your eyes, Lentils, so I can put on a show to take that stress away.”
I did and resisted the temptation to peek, as if I was oblivious to what he was putting on.
The immediate blare of the Magic Castin’ Super Rangers intro widened my smile and banished my anxiety. Watching it together was as comforting as a bonfire on a chilly night. We agreed the show itself was dumb with unbelievable plots and idiotic villainous monsters. Yet we enjoyed it.
We fell asleep to it most days, and we did today. It gave me enough peace that instead of another nightmare—I dreamed my coworkers were as dupable as those in the program.
Alexander felt antsy even without Zilla’s presence thanks to Lev. Lev had been working at the pizzeria for six months, and they rarely talked. Since they were such opposites, their conversations were brief, back-and-forth’s or mere acknowledgments of the others’ existence. Alexander’s approach was a simple grab-and-eat, while Lev outsmarted, or lured, them in with his charm. Drake, having listened to their heartbeats, said Lev’s prey were infatuated with him. So, the possibility of Lev coercing Lynette to form a team bothered him. Why else would she get eaten by him yesterday if it wasn’t out of willingness?
Drake, not removing his eyes from a manga chapter on his phone screen, asked, “nervous?”
Alexander dropped his shoulders and device, staring at Drake. He had no privacy near his best friend. I don’t like my heartbeat being on full blast for you to judge. “No.” He said, looking down the hallway as if he could spot Lynette coming in.
“Uh-huh,” Drake gave a courtly, wicked chuckle as if they were both nobles at a grand ball. It only irritated Alexander further. “Are you worried Lynette’s going to destroy you today?”
His weak grumble, “shut up,” affirmed the popsicle sticks and glue, holding his pride together after the multiple blows this week. This fucker. Her scent down the hall halted Alexander’s comeback attempt.
Drake, being ruthless, said, “Don’t start drooling,” and Alexander moved to hit his hip into him. Drake avoided it, sidestepping forward, and laughed.
“Fuck you.” Alexander slouched like the envy on his shoulders was a tangible weight. He thought it’d be nice to be as unfazed by Lynette as Drake. Alexander tried to do the same and distract himself from his instincts. Most times, it wouldn’t be effective, but her gaudy pink colored backpack did well to get his attention. He barely noticed the cute video-game characters and anime icons embroidered along it. Is she carrying lunch inside that thing? And similar to a toxic relationship, Alexander’s hunger drew him back.
With faint and cautious steps, she approached. Her sound heightened and dropped, struggling to maintain an upbeat pep. “Afternoon, guys.” She glanced at the time clock. “I’m glad I have a bit of time to talk to you both.” Is she going to bargain?
“Don’t tell me you quit after all,” Drake said. Alexander narrowed his eyes. It’d be beneficial for his own sanity if she did.
“No. I am sticking to my goal.” She looked at Alexander when she said that, re-establishing her declaration from yesterday. With a shake, she freed her hands from her sleeves and swung her bag to the front. She looped her arms through the straps and patted it reassuringly. “Have either of you played Battle Brothers Ultimate before?”
Alexander mentally questioned her motives. “Yes?”
“I haven’t played in months,” Drake said.
“Well, I have a proposition.” She ran her finger across the zipper. “How about we make bets for lunch instead?”
Unamused, Alexander furrowed his brows. He wouldn’t strike that kind of deal with her.
“So, the winner decides the outcome of that lunch period?” His best friend asked. Alexander exhaled loudly, showing his distaste for the idea. You can’t be going along with this, Drake. He sighed and figured it didn’t matter—Drake wasn’t interested in her blood, anyway.
“If any of you win a bet,” her tone trembled slightly, “I’ll surrender myself,” then, with a hopeful breath, added, “and if I win, I’m free for the day.”
A rejection built in his throat, ready for release. He groaned and held it as Lev made it to them and tiptoed behind Lynette. He leaned over, his head falling in line right next to hers, and spoke beside her ear. “Sounds lovely, Lynette~.” She pushed to the center of the hall, stupefied. She clutched and raised her backpack to shield most of her face.
She lowered it as he grinned unapologetically. “G-great. I wanted to include you, too...were you standing there listening the whole time?”
He shook his head. “The word bet was all I needed to hear.”
Lev ruined his plan to deny her. Two against one. “How would the rotation go, or are you implying you pick a ridiculous game for us daily?” Alexander asked. His gaze remained fixed on her. She lowered her bag.
“A winner would keep picking themselves, so I think it will be more convenient to go in order.” “I’ll go today, and since Lev is off the weekend, it’ll be you, Drake, and last, Lev. We’ll figure out the rest from there.”
“You had me at, playing games at work,” Drake said. A cocky grin popped on him. “Beating everyone at Battle Brothers would just be a bonus.” His best friend sucked at fighting games. Alexander knew that better than anyone.
“I’d love to contest that claim.” Lev’s eyes found Drake’s and, like a green light for go, it sparked a competitive verbal sparring match between the two. Excluding Lynette and Alexander.
Alexander despised that it sounded fun. He wouldn’t admit that to Lynette. I’m still pissed at you for yesterday. He released a defeated sigh. “You should put your stuff away. We gotta head in.”
Lynette bobbed her head and scurried off to put her backpack and jacket in break room one. As she did, he held up his calloused hands and flexed his fingers, wondering if his muscle memory would kick in during their match.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
With everyone’s support secured, I enthusiastically arrived at the counter to work with Alexander for the day. This gives me a chance-!
“When did you get those?” Alexander asked as I rested my palms on the countertop.
I forgot the bruises on my wrists. “Oh.” Wicks didn’t mean it. I wore my jacket earlier to hide them from Wicks before I left and unintentionally hid them from everyone here when I got in. “Around 5 this morning? I was close to falling over the couch, and my brother, while saving me, gripped my wrists too tightly.” To ensure Alexander didn’t get the wrong impression of Wicks, I awkwardly added, “I’m like a banana. I bruise easily.” Does that make it sound more suspicious?
Meticulously, Alexander’s eyes scanned the pizzeria and everyone in it. There were a handful of people in the lobby, none of them by the cash desks. “Move back.”
I retreated a few steps, as he instructed. He moved over, blocking me from the others with his body, and stared down. Far below the menu, my spine hit the extra dips and sauces counter we had behind the registers. He paused, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
“Um, X-xander?” I shortened his name, so nervous I nearly forgot it. Then his pupils glowed—a signal that he was about to change his size to swallow me. I gasped and turned to run to the kitchen. He exclaimed, “stop!” I faltered and did. Unamused by my reaction, he lowered his sound and grumbled out an instruction, “lift your arms up.”
Trembling, I whispered, “why?” as I held my arms close. I remembered what he did the first day once he had my hands.
A low growl emanated from his throat. “I wouldn’t stupidly eat you outside lunch, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m going to fix them.”
In slight apprehension, I raised them for him to see, and carefully watched that his body didn’t change. He touched my bruises with his sight alone. The subtle throbbing subsided. In a minute or two, the faint blue glow coming from his eyes disappeared, bringing them back to gray. I checked my wrists, and the bruises were gone. “I barely felt anything.”
He returned to his register, peeking over, and unlike before, his deep voice was smooth and resonant. It carried an authority that hinted at a knowledge of magic. “We call it reversal magic because it looks like it reverses time. Restoration to their original state is what it does for objects and people. For living beings, it will restore our body’s to what it considers a restored state. The more time you wait, the harder it is to fix it. Objects on the other hand have a shorter ‘restoration period’.”
Alexander is some kind of mythical being. Why does this feel unexpected? Until now, he’s been unfriendly and rude, and he hadn’t said anything more than a threat to me, besides the first day. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked.
I looked back at my wrists and shook my head, resetting my thoughts. “No, I’m great.” Be thankful he helped you, Lynette. This might be progress.
He grunted, accepting my answer.
In a gentle gesture, I picked up my hand, nearly meeting his biceps. “Um, thank you for the time and effort.”
He was quiet. My gaze drifted to his face. He was looking downward at the counter with a grimace, his mouth puckered like he had something disgusting in it. Is he frustrated? Alexander huffed. “I’m going to get the effort I spent back anyway when I win.”
I withdrew my arm and shuddered with disgust. “I’m grateful you helped me, but I disagree.”
Alexander scoffed, derisively showing my lack of intimidation. He towers more than a foot taller, and his vocals are so incredibly deep and rough that his growls sound genuinely animalistic. How would I EVER scare him? “I told you, I’m not losing.”
The abrupt influx of patrons provided me with a convenient excuse to avoid any more bickering with my difficult coworker.
I finished rueing my short disposition in time for Drake to walk into the breakroom. I asked him for help to set up my console on the suspended television.
To maximize the chaos and improve my chances of winning, I enabled almost all items, except the air blaster and the home run bat.
“That’s going to be hectic.” Drake said, grabbing one of the several controllers I laid out on the table. He hopped and threw himself back beside me on the giant couch.
“That’s the point.” I said, making sure we were on three stocks and had a five-minute timer. Lev and Alexander took their seats, controllers in hand. Lev was at the opposite end of me and Alexander, next to Drake, between him and Lev.
I readjusted my sweaty hold. On the selection screen, I chose the key boy. Drake picked the cute girl dog from Zoo Folks Town, while Alexander chose the main protagonist of Identity 5 and Lev played the famous pocket monster.
“Wow, dude,” Drake jested, “but you won’t play Identity 5?”
If they hadn’t shown me they were monsters, I would never have believed them. From beside him, Alexander mockingly snickered. “He’s a good fighter in Battle Bros. I have to pick him.”
He’s a good fighter? Please don’t mean what I think it means… I leaned over, looking beyond Drake to him. “Oh, so you’ve played a lot?”
Reminiscent of an anime villain, Alexander pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smirked. “Did I not mention the countless hours I poured into this game, including the grueling Nuzlocke’s?”
I threw myself back and sank into the cushions. Perfect. I ignored their teasing and clicked the random button. It summoned a wall-less stage for us, and the second we started, their characters chased me about the area.
“I thought you guys would act sportsmanlike!!” I squealed, mashing my buttons. I lost my first life on a failed recovery when Lev bullied me off. And when I figured I could catch my breath, the character Drake summoned sent mine into the stratosphere. He apologized in a whisper. Then, my terrible mistake—a poorly thrown bomb that damaged me—gave Alexander the opportunity to toss an item at my character and knock them off stage.
I sank into the soft cushions, drew my knees to my chest, and had the overwhelming compulsion to become a roly-poly.
Alexander, fixated on the screen, casually remarked, “are you sure you’ve played before?”
“I expected you guys might have played every once in a while. I didn’t know you did a 100 or more hours into it.” Lev and Alexander laughed, and I fought in my defense. “Plus, you both kept targeting me!”
Positioned on the far end of the couch, Lev’s chuckles persisted, echoing in the corner, “you always take out the weakest link first, Lynette.”
Alexander, in his bend forward, glanced over, “And if you’re out of the game, you can’t wi-” Lev smacked his character off the edge, “you ass!”
Next to be taken out was Drake. He reclined in his seat, observing the pair with me in quiet attentiveness. They stood up in front of the T.V., alongside one another, two stocks left on their characters.
“You should have picked a feasible bet,” Drake said.
“Yeah.”
Despite Drake’s unintentional delivery, his words sounded insulting. “Were you honestly expecting us to not know how to play?”
“I expected…” What did I expect? To be a god at this game? Why didn’t I pick something like Mascot Party? That’s a random chance. “I don’t know? The chaos of items to help me.” I put my knuckles to my forehead, blocking the screen with my arms. “I didn’t think they’d try to kill me right off the bat.”
“They have the incentive to take you out. Why wouldn’t you consider that?!”
“I assumed they’d play nice” I thought the two people who’ve tricked me would play fair. What was I thinking? “All I wanted was more days to enjoy my actual job.”
Drake’s judgmental stare transcended the bangs that normally made it impossible to get a good look at his eyes. “You like working the registers.”
I exclaimed, “Yeah!” I laid my head back and looked at the seamlessly endless ceiling. “My heart swells when customers smile at me, and I think it’s awesome to meet so many different people, even if it’s brief.” I adjusted my hat and subtly, trying not to call him out, asked. “Would you rather be eaten?”
Drake sharply turned, hissing, “No! I hate it.”
“Exactly.” I’m glad someone gets it.
He re-combed his black hair over his eyes and faced the screen again. “Your plan’s smart, though. Winning once or twice a week will probably keep them satisfied.”
“Thanks.” I quieted myself to a mutter. “If I could not be eaten permanently, that’d be great.”
“This is the best you’re gonna get,” Drake said. I knew he was right.
He scratched his head under his cap. “Oh, and also, uh, Lynette.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I feel touched you included me in that battle and all, but I don’t eat people.”
“I hoped if you said yes, you’d convince Alexander to join. You could give up your day to one of them, or-” I fake coughed, “me, please.”
“Ah, you used me.” Drake said.
I bowed my head in apology. “Not in malice! It was between me getting you on board, or trash talking Xander.” I don’t need him to have any more reasons to be merciless.
“YES!” Drake and I snapped to the screen to see Alexander won the sudden death. “Shit, I can’t believe I won that.”
In prideful defeat, Lev partially congratulated the winner. “You’re not half bad at the game. That was fun.”
He grinned broadly, “neither are you. I had no idea you even enjoyed this type of game, much less video games.”
“I like competition, video games or otherwise. I’ve played this Lacking Justice, Immortal Conflict, and the likes.”
“You play Lacking justice, too?”
The thought hit me at the same time Drake mentioned it. “I think you inadvertently made them soon to be friends.”
My lips whimpered in unexplainable sorrow. What have I done? What if they work together and correlate the best ways to beat me? The soft bell rang and flashed with my name above the door. Breaks over. In a last ditch effort, I hoped I could get some pity if I was nice about losing. “Good job on your match, Xander.”
Alexander instantly tossed my sincere faith aside. “You lost so badly, it seemed you wanted me to win.”
I twisted on my heels, broken by his tease. “I’m leaving.”
Earlier, I crumbled at the registers. Alexander didn’t harshly ridicule me. However, his smug grin and abnormally cordial behavior toward customers felt like he did. WHY DID I ASSUME I WOULD BE THE BEST AT THE GAME! I blamed my mind, as if it plotted my downfall.
During lunch, Alexander got me back for yesterday in a way so horrid I almost preferred Lev. I’d rather forget than write it. Afterwards, I woke up in the nurses’ office. I don’t know why I imagined there would be a ‘lesser of two evils’. They eat people. What sane sentient being does that?! I thought Edgar might make them do it, so I’d quit, but Lev and Alexander seemed too happy to oblige for that to be the case. Either way, I wanted to stay in the infirmary bed.
I preferred not to move, though comfort prompted me to consider it. My arm crept up and rested over my eyes to shield them from the fluorescent hospital like lights. That’s much better. Hello darkness. I joked, and the song correlated to those words played in my head.
As I laid there, the recurring question about the menace’s slipped from my mouth, “what’s the point?”
Unexpectedly, someone answered me back. “The point of what, Miss Wayland?”
I sat up quickly and looked to my side. Standing stoically beside me was Tristan, the nurse with an unchanging expression. The picture of professionally composed. His neutrality, even when well-intentioned, mostly left me feeling like a failed experiment on a cold lab table.
Suppressing my shock, I let my fear out with a strong exhale through my nose, “Heeey, Tristan.”
My attempt at a casual rest turned into an undignified plop because I forgot there was nothing to lean on.
“Hello.” his eyes traced my few bounces on the bed. His flat line lips didn’t budge, not even a curl. “What was your question pertaining to?”
Up again, I asked, “is there a reason monsters eat people?” Worst-case scenario, he’d explain that me living through the process wasn’t normal. I gripped my knees at the possibility of them killing humans.. What if they serve them on pizza? WHAT IF I’VE BEEN HELPING THEM SELL PIZZA WITH GROUND HUMANS.
“For energy.” He said.
And? I waited for more with pleading eyes.
He repeated himself, assuming I didn’t hear him, “for energy.”
My voice squeaked, “what kind of energy? Do you mean life energy?!” I scrambled on the bed, practically falling, and clutched the edges. “Are you saying my lifespan is shortening because of them?” I won’t survive the year! I jumped at the chance, like always, to curse my boss more.
Tristan’s serious and flat expression made my panic feel unrecognized, so I deflated as he stared down at me. He got the side of his rounded glasses and lifted them up. At first, I thought he was sporting the condescending sunglasses stare. Then I recoiled when I saw his eyeballs were gone. Where they should have been were like empty, sunken in sockets that matched his skin tone. It looked as if he was born without them.
The arches of his eyebrows moved down, showing he was concentrating on me.
“Your energy has reverted to its normally excessive amount. Your regeneration, much like every human, is fine.” He said, dropping his glasses back on his face. His eyeballs returned as he did.
I hesitantly asked, “are those magically making it so you have eyes?”
“Yes. I’m what humans would refer to as a slime. These glasses allow me to see the world as you do.” He stepped to his desk and addressed my earlier question. “Energy is what we need to function, same as humans, and we can gain it faster by taking it from other beings.” He pushed his lenses up. “Although most of us don’t eat sentient beings.”
So I won the lottery with monsters who do.
“I see. So, my lifespan is safe?” I watched him walk back off. He held up the resignation. I shook my head, no.
Tristan lowered the paper. “It’s almost impossible for a monster to syphon energy fast enough to kill a human.” His chilly hand reached up and tapped my skin. “Except for a well-trained magus or prodigy, they can perform a rapid drain, which collects a massive amount of energy at the moment of touch.”
My face went pale, and I tilted to his grasp on me.
He lifted it. “I’m not a magus.”
“Right.”
“Sandra is a magus.”
“Oh, neat.”
What felt like ten minutes passed before we exchanged more dialogue. “Do you need anything else?” He asked.
“I think I’m fine.” I cleared my throat, steadily sliding off the bed. “T-thank you, Tristan.”
“Have a pleasant evening.”
“You too.” I left, picked up my things in the breakroom, and went home. I wanted to ask more, truly. My instinct to live, however, told me finding out someone working with us could kill me with a single touch was more than enough for one night.
...
Discord Exchange Bonus
Whoa, whoa, whoa!