SAKU RA

He blinks several times. The cafe looks familiar. This version of him is familiar, just smoother and more animation than living. The voice is exactly his. The bubble labelled “Memories” catches his eye. His pulse racing faster and faster as he clicks his name.

His whole life. His knighthood training days in Philos. The story of how he met MC for the first time, their life in Linkon. Alternate timelines he has no idea about. He watches it all, unable to look away. He needs to see everything. To understand how much you actually know and it seems like it's everything.

You organised it all in the journal feature with photos and notes and even audio lines. A lot of care has been put into arranging it all, that much is apparent. He's never been called so many pet names before in all his life. It's oddly comforting knowing he sleeps under the roof of someone he doesn’t need to wonder about turning into an enemy.

No known protofield behaves this way. Which forces him to abandon the wanderer theory entirely. This, whatever it is, is a whole new sort of unknown.

He goes on your Internet browser and types in his name. Its a treasure trove. Game reviews, lore breakdowns. He spends all night wading through as much as he can, his heart racing. His existence here is hard to wrap his head around. By the time your phone protests needing to charge, the edges of dawn are creeping in.

He sits in the silence. The very quiet hum of electrical appliances the only thing that stirs the air until finally the suffocation of it is too much to bear. Yet, he notes interestingly how nothing closes in on him. How can it with ceilings so high and vast hallways? He smiles a little, thinking he can appreciate why you like a big home. It is hard to drown when you can't see all four walls within your reach immediately. Or the clutter of furniture that creates a barricade to weigh down the space.

Yet his thoughts rage. What does it mean to exist in a place where you are merely a story for mass consumption? Why would he even manifest in a world like this, away from the person he cares for the most? The questions burn until fatigue settles into him. He finds himself staring at the vivid floral painting on the wall, colours that swirl brightly despite muted darkness. Your phone protests again flashing a “put in your charger” sign and Xavier stands up with a sigh.

He reaches for your discarded heels and makes his way upstairs, quietly opening your door. You're in deep sleep, still fully dressed with your bedding twisted around your waist and an arm hanging over nearly touching the floor while the smallest snores come out of you. The faint scent of wine clings to you. He puts the heels down by the door and tiptoes to the charger sitting limply on the nightstand.

For a moment he watches you. Something weird and foreign settling on his chest. He finds himself reaching for your face to brush your forehead a little. You're so beautiful. Objectively, he tells himself. It’s just a general assessment. You're very lovely. You write lovely things. You give with little thought attached to it. It's a nice trait to possess. It makes you beautiful to him. His fingers tingle from where he touched your skin.

“Goodnight. I'm so sorry I upset you.”

He whispers. He feels stuck to the ground, but he quickly shakes it off. He needs to sleep. Staying up all night is catching up to him. Reluctantly, he leaves the room and heads to his own. After stripping down and getting into bed, sleep is quick to claim him and his turbulent thoughts.

When you blink awake on a warm and peaceful Sunday late morning, the first thing you notice is the heaviness of your head. Not quite a headache, but also not as clear as it usually feels when you get up on your off day. Your throat feels really dry and your tongue is sandy, the distinct taste of red wine still present hours after your last glass.

You groan a little.

Last night was a disaster. You drank too much. Worse than that, you said too much. Especially to Xavier. You sit up slowly, the room spins a moment before it settles and you don't have the luxury of reprieve because shame immediately burns a hole on your gut.

Especially when you spot the heels placed so carefully against the wall next to your door, and your phone on the nightstand plugged in to charge. You cover your face with both hands.

You unleashed so much on this poor man because you couldn't process your confusion and feelings like an adult. Recalling your words makes you cringe hard inside.

You have to make it up to him. Apologise. Right this awful wrong. You've been a terrible host. Abandoned him twice, showed up drunk and told him to be grateful for having his life upended without warning, something you probably triggered accidentally. What even was that?

“What is wrong with me!”

You lie back down and stare at the ceiling, waiting for your head to stop swimming.

You are sure about two things, you will grovel until he forgives you and you will help him get home. You owe him that much.

And maybe, you might need to address some stuff you've been sweeping under the rug. Maybe.

For now, Xavier took priority and you were done being an asshole.

With determined steps, you smooth out your dress, rumpled with lines from the long sleep and make your way to the guest room. You feel a little nervous and your palms sweat, but you steel yourself and knock softly. Nothing happens for a while, so you try again. A few more times. You are almost ready to give up when you hear something.

There is shuffling the other side before the door opens slowly, revealing Xavier rubbing his eyes sleepily, clad in a baby blue t-shirt and his black briefs. Your mind stalls. He is so tall. You never took him in properly yesterday, but now… he towers over you, your head ends where his chest begins, long legs and lithe muscles, his t-shirt riding up slightly for a peek at his abs. A million unholy thoughts flit through your brain while the man stands there none the wiser. How deeply unfair.

“You're awake,”

His voice is a soothing lull still coated in sleep.

“I'm sorry,”

You quickly blurted out. For last night obviously, however unbeknownst to him, for this moment where you're coveting his beautiful form when you should be focused on being contrite and helpful. You avert your gaze to your feet, fighting off intrusive thoughts. You never should have listened to that stupid secret times.

“I'm sorry for showing up drunk last night, and yelling at you, and laughing in your face. Oh my god, and shitting on your life like that? Those things I said, they were so wrong. Xavier I shouldn't have treated you that way. I didn't mean to blow up like that. And I could say I just have some stuff going on but it's no excuse. Everyone has stuff going on at any given point in time. You just landed here against your will, I can't even begin to imagine-”

Your monologue is interrupted when Xavier lifts your chin, using his fingers so you can face him. An easy going smile rests on his face and he shakes his head a little.

“It's alright. This situation took us both by surprise.”

“Yeah, but I was an asshole last night. That was not cool. I'm supposed to help you go home. I was dismissive and… and weird. And just… drunk. It's not an excuse. I don't want you to think I'm trying to minimise what I did.”

“I understand. I opened the game last night.”

“You did?”

“Mmm. It was uncomfortable.”

“Of course. God, I would freak out if someone had my entire life story on their phone like it was nothing.”

“And a journal.”

You wish the earth would swallow you whole when you realize he left no stone unturned. Did that mean he knew about the audio? Does he know you know how he moans? Or whisper dirty fantasies into your ear that you use to fall asleep on nights insomnia is threatening to rob you of some hard earned rest? Oh no. No he couldn't. That would be your worst undoing. Gosh forget the audio, some of his memories. With your MC…. You suddenly wish for more wine or to run down the hallway but you force yourself to stay put.

“Right… it helps keep track of the lore,”

You attempt weakly. Because you know if he leafed through it then every term of endearment you ever called him is written in there, with all your favorite moments, photos from the glint photo booth and the voice lines. Oh the voice lines are damning. You're secretly praying for lighting to rain down and strike you to ash. It's a fair humiliation for your actions last night, you will bear it.

“Oh. It's just for the weekly gains.”

You have an entire page dedicated to Misty Silhoutte and the creative phrases to pass the review. You can't believe he read that too. You don't even want to believe it. You made that book knowing no one else would see it outside the people who monitored the game but they were cool, after all they let you write wild birthday wishes on everyone's cards for the past nearly two years. You swiftly change the subject as your nervousness makes your pulse tick a little too fast.

“I will get some breakfast going then we can head out to the beach market.”

“I can help.”

His face brightens so much at the thought of cooking you don't have the heart to remind him he is banned from your stove so you just relent with a sigh.

The flow in the kitchen surprises you with how easy it is and under your watchful eye, nothing is burnt or misshapen and the two of you dress up to go leave the house.

“Should I put on a disguise?”

Xavier asks as he meets you downstairs.

“Nah. The game is really big in America and Asia. You're at the very bottom of the planet, in a small coastal town. The likelihood of anyone here knowing you is really slim. At best, they'll just think you look like a video game character. And in an attempt to be polite won't bother you about it. No need to fret,”

You grab your keys and lead him to the car, Xavier feeling more at ease from your explanation.

The market is as bustling as ever. While no-one knows who he is, you did underestimate how his beauty would still draw people in. It seems the whole place gravitates towards him. His towering stature is very pronounced in real life and while you may have been mildly desensitised to looking at his face constantly, the ones who see him for the first time are absolutely mesmerised. He gets free samples, discounts, soft probing questions he turns to you to answer and sensing his unease you make him link his arm with yours which seems to quiet the activity a little around him. You almost regret not letting him cover his features a little.

After a productive hour or two, you call it a day and lead him back to the parking bay to go home. A man stops you both just before you reach the exit.

“Sir. Miss. Get your caricature portrait done in fifteen minutes? We're having a Sunday discount.”

Before you can reject the enthusiastic artist's offer, Xavier agrees.

“Uh… yeah sure.”

“Great! This way,”

The man moves quickly as if he can tell you're not entirely sold and the two of you sit down as he sketches and colours with remarkable speed. Once finished, he gives you a framed picture that looks really accurate minus the exaggerated big heads. You're actually impressed and thank him.

“Why did you agree?”

You ask Xavier as you head towards your car and he shrugs simply.

“You like art. Your house is full of it. Maybe you can find a new spot to put it.”

He doesn't say that he also noticed there isn't one single picture of you and he finds it kind of strange. MC has mementos everywhere. They practically live in the photo booth (accurately, you constantly toy with him in the photo booth and created the wall of pictures in the With Him section that litter the room).

The drive home is slow and scenic and you take the opportunity to check on him.

“How did it feel? Opening the game I mean,”

A soft sigh reaches your ears, Xavier turning his attention from the stretching landscape towards you before speaking.

“Strange. You know everything i know about my life. And it makes you know me. I've never been observed like that before. It's making me question everything about this world. And I keep replaying your words…”

You tense a little.

“Eighty million people know about my life. What i thought was my life. And they have video edits…”

Shit he opened tiktoks?

“And these fictional stories…”

Tumblr and ao3 too???

Did he rummage your bookmarks? Oh god no. As a matter of fact… you would rather not know. You nod along to his train of thought

“Discussion forums…”

Damn he even made it to reddit. Did he actually sleep?

“And the most freaky part was seeing all the different versions of MC. Different names. Watching my memories with faces I dont recognize…”

You realize with a sinking weight in your gut that you dropped this man in the middle of hell with no explanation and left him to pass through alone while you slept in an alcoholic stupor.

“I'm so sorry Xavier. I should have explained better. I mean, I can still explain better. Whatever you want to know, I will answer.”

“Yeah. Thanks”

“And I will do my best to help you get home I swear. We can figure this mess out.”

Once you return home, you unpack some of the food you picked up and Xavier puts his clothes in the spare room, changing into some loungewear before joining you downstairs again.

You serve him a warm plate of pasta and meat sauce and settle on a chair opposite his.

“So… I've been thinking. Since the sleep feature brought you here, maybe I can open it tonight and you will go home.”

“We can try. But if it doesn't work we might have to figure out how I got here. Or why.”

“Well usually anything out of the ordinary is attributed to deepspace fluctuations in the game but there are no protocores or wanderers or a massive worm hole in the sky.

No EVER. No hunters association and the closest power of that kind we have is nuclear and might melt your face off. Which… isn't good.”

“What about your space program? Maybe your astronauts might have picked up something on other planets?”

You laugh heartily snorting a little.

“Oh sweet baby bear, the furthest we ever got was the moon. I mean we also have a rover in Mars and this one billionaire keeps making rockets to get there but they break apart before even reach beyond what a regular airplane does. How he keeps making money is beyond me.” the fond nickname slips without your permission and you don't even notice it did.

Xavier’s forkful of food pauses just before his mouth. He clears his throat calmly before continuing.

“So humans here are just… the only ones?”

“Most assume that way. We just don't have the means to even look for other civilizations. Honestly we spend more on military weapons to oppress and wipe each other out than put that energy into leaving the planet. Linkon is the tech dream we wish we could achieve.”

“Huh. Not even AI technology?”

“Oh actually that we do have! But… it's rudimentary. Consumes a ton of power and a bulk of it that is used by the public is for so called creative purposes. Gosh the chatbots apparently are just pure filth. Which I find hilarious. Humans go ‘oh look something that can think better and faster than us… now make horny content please’. So fascinating. And honestly, the quality is not that amazing in the first place. Its rather uncanny and misses too much of human nuances to make it cohesive enough. But my mom does enjoy those creepy dancing babies on tiktok a lot so, there’s that. And also I use a few AI powered tools at work that do great for their intended purpose so i guess the real issue is mimicking humanity's subtle tells. I think. I’m not sure. I could be biased because of the trash I've seen floating around with the AI generated label. ”

“Nothing that could aid with running algorithms on the game's backend to analyze it's data and maybe help me find a portal?”

“Uh…. I don't know dude. Maybe there is. I have a laptop and phone I don't use. Go crazy. Only thing I even know about the dark web is that you use a browser called torrent or onions or something. We can set it up but just… don't get me blacklisted or give an assassin my home address or something that might put me on a watchlist yeah? Don't you need a Jeremiah for this type of stuff?”

“I know a thing or two.”

He says before resuming inhaling his meal with impressive speed. You can only marvel quietly how much of his game’s attributes when it comes to food seem to translate faithfully in real life. He plates up a second and third helping. Unlike the app that had him nibbling one piece of vegetable that might have been a carrot with his mouth barely opening a fraction, this Xavier is all too human and you can't help feel in awe when noodles disappear into his gaping mouth, cheeks puffed out while he hums in delight. He eats like he hasn't seen food in days. It weirdly makes you happy. The way his aliveness is so dynamic in this realm.

You quickly stow away the thought and prepare for bedtime while he sets up your technology to figure out whatever it is he needs to do but in the context of the year 2026.

“Alright. I'm heading to bed now. I will put on the sleep function overnight like last time. Maybe this will work?”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Ok. So… goodnight?”

You suddenly feel awkward around him. You think of offering last words but think better of it. What would you even say?

“Goodnight. If I don't see you, thank you for your help.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your stomach twist just a little and you quickly head for your room.

“It's not you. Its the situation. Don't take it personally.” You mutter to yourself while climbing into bed and opening the game again.

“Honestly, it's for the best. Poor dude probably misses his girlfriend like hell.”

Digital Xavier is already napping on the café table and you can't help smile a little.

“Hi pumpkin pie. Sorry to interrupt your little nap but… it's time to sleep. In a bed. Next to me. Human you wants to go home. Not that I blame him. Earth in 2026 must be the slums to an eternal like him.”

You press the sleep feature, turn off the light and poke him a few more times.

“I’m definitely gonna miss you for all of the two short days you've been here. You're very chill company.”

The avatar on the screen lets out a few sleepy mumbles and you put your phone a distance away, dosing off from watching him for long, secretly wishing it was the real version instead. Then immediately chastising yourself for the thought.

“He deserves to go home. Don't be greedy.”

You don’t dare acknowledge the quiet part that asks what if he stayed instead. You do not need those kinds of problems.

It's a workday tomorrow. The flow of the job will take away all these pesky feelings in no time and you can go back to normal. And normal, is always good.

“Where are you?”, he sings, a bit dramatically. You peer out from the couch where you had been scrolling away on your phone, the screen lights nearly lulling you to sleep.

“Someone’s happy to be back”, you say, amusedly.

“Of course, I am. I get to see you”, Zayne says as he crosses the carpeted floor to envelope you in a hug. The fresh smell of his shampoo wafts up to your nose briefly.

You quickly make plans for dinner and decide to watch a movie that you had both been wanting to watch for a while. Zayne even suggests helping you cook, even though you try to tell him to sit down and rest after his week.

“I feel fine, really”, he assures.

You know he’s moving on sheer willpower and you’re kind of waiting for the crash. It always comes eventually. Once a week, whenever his odd hours let him, Zayne would sleep for hours. Sometimes 9, sometimes 12. Yet, he always refused to take rest unless his body took it for him.

You eat a dinner of pasta and chicken breast. Zayne makes sure to comment on the amazing quality of your cooking as he devours the food. Soon after, you’re settling in, in your cozy bed in your pajamas, anticipating a good movie and a cozy night.

You skitter around in the room, drinking some water and doing a few end-of-the-day tasks as Zayne sits in the bed, blanket already on his legs, glasses askew. He’s trying to multitask looking at something on his phone and the television screen, peering through the top of his glasses as he alternates between the two. A small smile appears on your face at his cuddly appearance.

“Let me just wash my face and then I’ll be there”

“Okay”, Zayne smiles at you, before going back to searching for the movie.

A few minutes pass. You’d taken a bit longer than usual, peering at yourself in the mirror, wondering if that new skincare product you had bought was working. You return to find him slumped against the headboard, remote still in hand, breathing lightly. You creep into bed slowly, carefully trying not to wake him up, as you take the remote from his hands. He hardly reacts at all, probably spiraling slowly into the depths of sleep.

You sigh as you switch the screen off. You couldn’t find it in you to wake him up, when he was looking so soft and sleepy. The movie could wait. Still feeling incredibly awake, you decide to read the novel you had been putting away for a while.

A good few minutes of reading pass. Beside you, Zayne has quietly slipped off the headboard to lie in the mattress, his body giving in to much needed sleep. He turns once, to lie on his chest, hands below the pillow. You cast him a look. He was hardly a restless sleeper, but it seemed like the tiredness was getting to him.

Then, you hear a quiet hum. Your eyebrow quirks in surprise as you look over to him, wondering if he was having a nightmare. It didn’t seem like it, because Zayne simply mumbled something that sounded like a question. “…palpitions?”

You curiously focus on his lips, as he seems to be asking about something. He furrows his brow a little, the same way he does when he’s thinking deeply.

“What’s wrong?”, you ask softly, taking care not to wake him up.

“pal…tions”, he sighs.

Huh? Is he dreaming about his patients? You reach out to press your thumb against his furrowed brow. His frown dissolves instantly and he seems to have lost track of his dream, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow.

You run you hand through his soft hair a few times before getting back to reading your book, before you hear Zayne shuffling around to lie on his back. He pulls the blanket up to his chest as he does it, leaving his arms above the blanket. You giggle a little. He looks like the perfect stock photo of ‘sleep’.

He sleeps peacefully for a few minutes, and you focus your attention back to your book, getting lost in the fantasy world the author has weaved. You look over to him, only to find him sleeping with both his hands raised.

You nearly jolt at the strange sight.  His left hand extends high up in the air, poised as if holding a pen, while his right arm bends at the elbow, spinning little circles.

‘What is he doing?’, you wonder with fascination as he continues his little actions, slow and repetitive. You watch him with interest as he seems to move his hands in tandem, a little circle with the right hand, then a little push with the left, before it dawns on you what he’s doing.

Your mouth hangs open in realization. He’s doing surgery! In his sleep! The motions look eerily similar to the doctor shows you’d seen on Netflix, a little slower, a little stranger.

You don’t know whether to be alarmed or in awe. You’re certainly feeling both the emotions. It’s also a little bit cute, the sure and practiced motions of his hands clouded by sleep, now appearing slow and little, as if he was knitting a sweater for a cat or something. Worry floods your brain next. Was Zayne so overworked his subconscious was performing surgeries in his dreams?! Who was he even dreaming about? Would he even remember in the morning?

Your hands instantly reach for your phone charging on the bedside table, pressing record. Zayne stalls, as if can sense you’re about to record him. You nearly pause the video in frustration, but he simply huffs and continues. Little movements with his right hand, followed by an occasional movement with his left. You record him for a few seconds, before he drops his right arm, now sleeping with his left raised high up in the air.

It looks comical, really. You chuckle a little, replaying the video you just captured. Oh, he was going to hear about it in the morning for sure.

Zayne lets his arm linger in the air for a few more seconds before he brings it down to tuck it under the blanket, before rolling over. Guess the ‘surgery’ was over then.

x

The next day you wake up to find Zayne calmly nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen island, while reading an article on his phone. You creep up on him to ambush him with a back hug.

A soft hmpf leaves his lips, as he sets the coffee mug on the table. “Don’t scare me, darling, I nearly burned myself”, he says, turning to give you a soft kiss. “Slept well?”

“Hmm, I should really ask you that question though”, you answer cheekily as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean?”, Zayne asks.

You look at him over the rim of the cup as you take a long sip. “It just seems like you slept well yesterday…”

“I… guess I did?”, Zayne answers doubtfully, sensing the hint of mischief in your voice. “What?”

You silently unlock your phone to show him the video you had silently giggled over yesterday. Zayne’s eyes widen as he takes your phone in his hand, looking at his own image, asleep. His eyes widen comically as he sees himself perform the motions, hands raised in the air. His mind is drawing a blank. He did this? This is him?

“Were you working in your sleep?”, you ask, voice still mischievous, clearly hiding the worry you feel for him.

“I…”, he replays the video, eyes fixating on himself, unable to believe it. “I had no idea I did this”, he confesses, a little embarrassed.

A small laugh escapes you. He takes another sip of his coffee, trying to make it a long one, to hide away his embarrassment.

“See, you work too much...”, you say as you turn away to reach for the jam. “you’re operating even in your sleep!”

“It’s hardly operating…”

You turn around and give him a look. He looks away, knowing there was probably some truth to your words. “I’ll take more breaks…”

You were going to make sure he did.