Bluebo0

A door screeched open, wheels popped over the threshold, and those familiar sounds expelled relief from your lungs.

“Mac!”

Your eyes met. The relief fizzled out.

Mac’s gaze slipped past yours and landed on the fireplace. The fabric of their black hoodie bunched where they clutched it to their chest, jaw clenched.

“Mac?” you tried again, softer.

You caught the shine in Mac’s eyes when they refocused. You weren’t certain which one of you moved first, but the silent exchange ended with the two of you standing, wrapped in a tight embrace. Mac’s arms squeezed around the mass of your torso, and you pressed a hand between their tough but tired shoulder blades.

Your lips brushed their ear. “Come sit with me?”

Mac nodded into your shoulder.

The trek to the couch wasn’t a lengthy one, but time moved slower as your thoughts picked up in pace. Obviously, whatever came of the error made by that MoneyCoin employee had grown into a category five corporate disaster. The people left at the office would be assessing PR damage, clearing away paper wreckage, and if everyone was lucky, driving home before the clock struck midnight.

What the hell could go so wrong in a crypto company’s office building?

Mac dug into their pocket to check their messages, and whatever it said made them groan. “Oh no.”

You hit mute on the TV remote. “What’s wrong?”

Mac shifted to the other end of the couch and set their bowl on a side table. “They’re asking if I can come into the office again. On my day off.”

“Like right now?” You couldn’t believe it. 

“Right now.”

“What could they possibly need you for?”

Mac tapped away in reply. “I’m wondering that myself.”

You watched as Mac peered at the screen, offering silent support as they exchanged more messages.

“It looks like one of our new employees made an error that is costing the company thousands of dollars, and they want me to come fix it.”

The reason sounded plausible enough for a company like MoneyCoin, but the fear in Mac’s tone told you there was more to it.

“Why not tell them you’ll come tomorrow instead?”

“I would, but I think something bad might happen if I don’t go in tonight.”

You paused, trying to make sense of what they were implying. “What do you mean by that?”

For the first time ever, you watched Mac hesitate to answer an earnest question. 

You whipped around, and Mac was nowhere to be seen. The clouds shifted from bright pastels to a value scale of grays. Then there were no clouds at all. You plummeted from the sky through a void, helpless to the pit of darkness approaching the end of your fall.

Your eyes shot open.

The abyss was gone, replaced by your dark bedroom and the familiar pressure of your small but full bladder. The remnants of arousal from the wet dream intensified the overall unpleasant ache in your pelvis.

The digital clock read 3:33 a.m. Its numbers cast a faint red glow on the dresser like tiny flickering embers.

Careful not to disturb Mac from their must needed rest, you disentangled yourself from the bedsheets and shivered as the cold air hit your naked form. You felt your way to the bathroom with your feet, and when you switched the light on, the bleary image of your face appeared in the mirror. Your eyes were watery with exhaustion and a bitter dryness clung to the inside of your mouth.