In the shadows

whisper: i have an alibi.

“My dad wouldn’t like that,” he commented in return. 

“Uhmmmmm, yeah, I went to bed at only 2 am yesterday!” 

“Which… is earlier than the day before.” 

He had stayed up most of the night to read about the different forest creatures in different parts of the world. 

Rhys poked Orion’s belly. 

“You would never,” he claimed. 

“You would miss me too much.” 

“I am great… company.” 

“I’m an amazing friend!” 

Then he looked down the hill. “Oh, but I might actually like the idea of rolling.” 

- “Oh don’t worry, I’m dating him too. We’re a very happy polyamorous group,” he said in a matter of fact way, nodding his head as he talked.

A worried crease forms in Orion’s brow, not liking the hours his friend was keeping - they’re weren’t kids any more. Orion swore a new body part cracked every day. “You should sleep more,” he encouraged but knew it would do little to fix the problem.

whisper: i just watched something about beavers. it was the best dam documentary i've ever seen

“Welcome, feel free to look around,” he gave the typical greeting as he finally gave in and sat up, pushing his curls away from his hair. Pushing the glassware up his nose he finally took in the figure who’d entered his store - Oskar from the clinic. He was a vet or something of the sort, one Orion usually only saw in his uniform when Lola was up for her yearly check or she’d gotten into something she shouldn’t have.  Logic was temporarily lost momentarily as he struggled to comprehend that Oskar did in fact have a life outside of the clinic - it just hadn’t occurred to Ori that was the case. “Since when do you own normal clothes?” Smooth. His feet dangled off the edge of the table as he sat there staring, trying to connect his brain cells again.

“No swatting, no swatting!” Rhys said, eyes still tightly closed, and he pushed his book up and away from him. “I’m not sleeping, I’m listening to… the park.” 

He wasn’t actually. 

He could mostly hear Ori’s soft heart beat through his shirt and feel the warmth of him against his head. 

He readjusted himself till he was looking up at Ori. 

“Now I can snore,” he said with a chuckle. 

-

"Mhmm. And I’m dating your mother,” he replies with a thick layer of sarcasm gracing his words. It shifts tone, his typical worry replacing the sarcasm. “Have you slept recently?”

Orion was all for a lazy day, though he would appreciate a little wriggle room now and then rather than half his body going dead. This would have been a better position in bed or on his couch, not against the hard ground.

&

It was no surprise to him that Orion was there – the other had always been more apt to attend social events than he had, time after time finding himself dragged somewhere after hours just to appease him. That night was no different, except that Dutch seemingly came at his own accord. Of course, he would be hard pressed to admit that it was the promise of seeing his friend that gave him that final push.

“Yeah, well,” he exhaled, allowing the smoke to filter through his lips. “Better than watching more reruns of MASH with pop. More liquor here, too.” Dutch shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to make a big deal of it. “You look like you’re havin’ a decent time. Find anyone who’ll put up with your dance moves – or whatever you call them?” he smirked.

-

Orion had to think for a moment what MASH was, before he recalls the reran show of his childhood. They hadn’t watched much of it, his grandparents never a fan of anything war related after what they had been through. It was more of a Coronation Street household. His mother still watched the show on the British TV channel he subscribed her to a while ago.

Cass’ stomach swims with momentary guilt, then amusement, as he realizes what’s happened here. Two old ghosts giving each other a fright, like a scene out of an old slapstick film – improved only by the retroactive addition of white sheets over their heads. Hah.

“Gosh, I’m sorry,” he’s smiling, but he still feels bad. “Guess we scared each other, huh?” 

He stares down at his flashlight; the true villain of this whole ordeal. “I’m a park ranger. On the night watch, just doing my job. What are you doing here?”

-

Orion tried to act as if he hadn't just lost ten years on his life at the sudden human experience but it was clear to both of them he had in fact been startled. "That it does, kid," his voice his huskier from the night are having settled into his throat.

x

KJ shrugged. He had indeed made the fire, and in some strange way, he almost appreciated Orion’s acknowledgement of that fact. As sour as he had felt about the initial disturbance, then, he could at least appreciate the guy was asking permission rather than barging in and claiming the area for himself. And so, KJ sniffed a little, stance loosening, only by a margin, as he let down some of his well-fortified guard. “I don’t cut myself on it, no. It cuts you. On purpose. That’s what makes it a curse,” he replied drolly, as if this were a completely sane distinction to make. “Handed down to me from my grandad. He must have made someone real mad, I figure.” KJ quirked his brow, letting the words drift idly into the air.

But with that, he shook his head. Orion had called his bluff, intentionally or otherwise. And he was  absolutely not about to fish out the barbecue lighter he had actually used to get things going that evening. “Nah. To be honest, I don’t really know you well enough to let you walk off with it. And like you said, not good to leave fires unattended. You may as well just…settle in.” He gestured vaguely at an open space near the fire pit. There was a moment of awkward silence, during which he sort of stewed, but overcome by self-consciousness, KJ finally made an effort to extend his hand through a swig of beer. “KJ. I’m bad with names and faces, so.” 

-

It cuts you. Orion blinks after staring at the burning flames a little too long, the heat prickling against his orbs. How in the hell would a knife cut someone without it being your fault for mishandling it? On purpose of all things? Orion isn't sure this is the environment to ask, perhaps the owner of the cursed object had had a few too many before the company had been sprung on him. A knife that cuts you purposely wasn't the weirdest thing this town had to offer, far from it. "Oh I bet. You don't come across things like that very often. Any family stories about it?" he plays along, sounding enthused and trying to keep the only source of warmth around here content with his company.

Just when he’s returned his focus back to his book, a voice rings out from the stillness. Cass starts, dropping his flashlight. It skitters away helplessly. “Are you serious, man?” he mutters, standing up. “I can’t just have one night –”

He blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden dark, all the while fumbling around for the flashlight handle on the ground. He sticks the novel – still folded over itself crudely – into his jacket pocket. The flashlight rolls over a root and half-blinds him; he seizes it again, finally, and turns it on the stranger. “Thank you for that, by the way. You know this park closes at sunset, right?”

-

If Orion was a goat he’d freeze up and tip over from the shock he receives as the ‘ghost’ drops the torch in response to his offhanded comment. The sound it makes, followed by the boys scattered reaction, seems all too real. As in human. There. Right in front of him. The realisation makes him stutter in his step, halting as the other tries to catch the rolling light - or at least he can assume that’s what they’re doing as the shadows shit behind the globe.

where: downtown, probably hanging out around the diner

when: Wednesday midmorning, around 10am

who: @phqsarters

ch-chunk

“Fuck. I’m out of staples.”

ch-chunk ch-chunk ch-chunk

Dana kept banging the stapler against the pole, uselessly. This flier was not gonna get stuck to this pole any time soon. She watched as it flapped around in the breeze, before the one staple holding it gave way and the paper floated away down the street. “Aw fuck,” she swore again. How was this her job again? Putting up fliers? Didn’t they have… she didn’t know, aides or something for this? She chastised herself mentally for having such a bad attitude. The job market for professors was pretty abysmal right now, at least she was getting paid decently to do stuff. Stuff like putting up fliers. And it got her outside, which was always a plus.

She glanced at the sheaf of papers in her other hand that were waiting to be put up around town. With the Fall semester coming up, Northwood needed to get the word out that registration was open. Her school wasn’t the type to advertise on social media like a big state school would, so street corners and word of mouth it was.

“Your future awaits!” The flyer proclaimed brightly in the school’s colors. More like, please come to our school and let me teach you how deep in the shit our society is and how we can wake up to the social realities all around us that’re keeping us down, she thought. A shiny yellow button stuck to her backpack had a similar message: “Ask me about YOUR future!” Suddenly, the breeze picked up again, yanking the rest of the fliers from her hand and scattering them across the sidewalk and street. “Damn it! I don’t have time for this!” She yelped and balled her hands into fists. She had lesson plans and paperwork to be doing, she did not want to go back to the print store and get more fliers. Ugh. She took a deep breath and held it in. 1…2…3…4…5…6… She let it out, counting up to 7. “Okay, time to pick up all these papers. And then get iced coffee.”

-

A day off for Orion usually means one of two things - he's either extremely productive or he's avoiding every human in sight. The first would come with a list of jobs he'd put off on his busy work days, such as necessary things like paying bills and purchasing groceries to the more obscure ones like chasing down Rhys or moving furniture for someone he's never met because his mother signed him up for it. The later was when he was lucky enough to go camping, or shut his curtains and roll back over for some much needed sleep with his cat tucked up against his chest. Those days didn't come by nearly enough, and unfortunately today wasn't one of them.

Today Orion was sporting a list of groceries scribbled on a scrap piece of paper stuffed into his back pocket threatening to be stolen from him by the wind or perhaps wandering hands. In his hand he carries a canvas bag, it's good for the environment he had to remind himself as he back tracked to pick it up from where he'd abandoned it last week. Tomorrow is his weekly mean with his best friend, so it means having fresh ingredients to cook, plus he wanted to make some extra meals for Dutch and his father so they took it easier this week.

Mentally he went back over his list trying to think of anything else to add when his path to the grocery store was obstructed. The woman before him had an energy that screamed for Orion to avoid - fliers and badges with large words and bright colours. That was not the vibe Orion was having today. With a moment more to obscure her before their paths would cross he came to see her frustration outshining the enthusiasm of whatever she was advertising. Guilt stabbed at him for thinking unkindly, his feet refused to stray from the sidewalk and instead carried him towards her.