#baskithreads

Having Enhanced Hearing meant Baskar heard things he either didn’t want to hear, or things he shouldn’t hear. He felt like if he was prone to gossiping, this power would definitely be dangerous for him. Luckily, he was more often trying to refocus whenever he heard things that weren't meant for him: aka everything. Focussing on the sound of fridges, cooking sounds, waves, birds, animals, the wind. Really anything. But language was so hard to tune out. Even if he didn’t mean to do it, he’d refocus on a sentence. As if he was in a bar and he suddenly heard Bahasa Indonesian. Even if he didn’t want to listen in on anyone, it pulled him in. 

And as a result, Baskar usually walked through the area where most people were - with his headphones on - blushing. 

Sometimes however, despite how they didn’t want to, they picked up things that were useful. They picked up plans or suggestions or comments. They picked up talk about Lindi’s future town hall project, and decided they could make food for it. They picked up when people needed things that they were telling the wrong person. They could make themself even more liked by showing up with what people needed, at least if they were able to grant it. 

In this case: they felt like they could grant it. Or at least they could help enough. 

Baskar appeared near the stranger with a smile on their face, not even overthinking what they were going to say to explain why they showed up out of nowhere, and how they’d managed to pick this up from at least two hundred metres away. 

Baskar had hidden the small secret within his backpack, the one he carried everywhere. He knew he wasn't the very last person who hadn't claimed a bungalow, but he might be among the few who wouldn't even claim one. He was instead sleeping next to the radiators. Even if the idea of using white noise to make sure he got some extra sleep had filled him with dread at first, he'd eventually given in because he was so tired.

The level darkness under their eyes reminded them of their time in school, sleepless nights to make both tuition, housing - Baskar had always tried to get something far away from the other students -, and school deadlines, but also the fear of their father showing up. This wasn't that different from before, but they were a bit older, they could feel how that made it worse.

Arm bandaged, duct tape forcing the headphones even stronger against their face, and eyes that were constantly red, Baskar made for a sorry individual. But so did a lot of other residents on the island. So they didn’t feel like they were very different from most. There was a healer around, but either they hadn’t run into them yet, or they had no interest in healing small - and already bandaged - wounds. 

It was okay, they’d stay in the back for a bit, they’d keep away from people for a bit, they’d–

While given the stress of the day and the constant noise of the buzzing - and now the digging - in all honestly all Baskar wanted to do was to lay down in the water, submerge their ears far enough so they were completely covered in water, and pretend the world didn't exist.

The down-side to that plan was that they'd be willingly running away from danger and thus from helping people.

Which went against everything they stood for. So they ignored the constant noise - though they were constantly frowning - and tried to offer help where they could. And not spend too much time watching the hornets dig at the medical centre. Unearthing something.

Una had called Baskar brave some time ago. But right now, they felt anything but. Lost and scared was better. They were walking through the inhabited area hoping to meet someone who could help them, while most people were hiding or… or… Baskar could hear them, but the buzzing was much louder, persistent, constantly there. Either close by or far away, not that it really mattered, there were so many of them, and so much reaction to them as well. Their disorientation had resulted in being stung by one, leading to a memory. Of a person they didn’t recognise, crawling through the mud. Their hearing was normal for a moment, but that didn’t make the scream that ended the vision any less horrifying. The sight of a hornet with a hundred tiny cameras, different from those they’d seen before. 

Baskar thought they were doing well given the circumstances: haunted, hearing EVERYTHING, a little jumpy, but still managed to make people like them. Or well, they hoped people liked them. It would be sad if people didn’t. Though maybe they were more of a try-hard then. That was alright, they could be a try-hard now and be a friend later. They didn’t mind. They had more time now, they didn’t need to make people like them right away, they didn’t need to establish connections quickly. They were out of harm’s way, they could stay here, rest here, keep a life here. 

After the meeting - the one which Baskar did not attend because there had been far too many people - they felt like getting some goodwill with the island's chef. So they'd told Zaid about the bananas they'd found and asked him to come along. Maybe a chef would know what to do with the weird looking bananas.

“I know there are more around here,” they explained to him. “I’ve been in the jungle a few times before, they’re pretty high up, but when I lived in Indonesia me and friends would always go out and look for them. There weren’t a lot of wild banana trees, so we mostly had to beg older people if we could cut them down from their garden and share the harvest, but we always managed to get a few.” 

Being the practical person they were, Baksar had quickly ensured they found at least some way to deal with the constant loud noises. Making sure there was a double layer of protection that muffled it all at least to a point where they still had constant jumpscares but didn’t hear the fart that was released a kilometre away. Or something, they had no idea what the limits of their power were. Just that they kept trying to stop focusing so hard on everything around them. 

Breathing exercises, yoga, meditation. 

So far distraction helped sometimes. And the best road to distraction was asking people if he could help. 

Cotton in their ears, construction headphones one, and the friendliest smile, Baskar roamed into the medicenter. They’d tied their long hair up and luckily hadn’t had to trade in the clothes they’d landed with: Chelsea football shorts, an oversized grey t-shirt from the official Paddington store that he’d gotten when he’d been fifteen. 

Hearing so much all the time was intense, it left Baskar with headaches that they had difficulty suppressing. But there were moments of clarity, when they were not thinking too much or focussing too much and when they could actually zone in on one sound. 

Which was exactly what they’d done now. And what they’d heard, had made them shoot up from their little spot on the beach and run into the thick rainforest, grabbing a long stick from the ground and carrying it against their body as they ran. 

The sound of a wolf, something growling, intense, sounding big and dangerous, followed by the crunching of bones, and a feminine voice. He was starting to worry that he was too late, that he wasn’t running fast enough, that by the time he was there, there would be nothing left. 

The sounds rushed at him with such intensity now that they told him he was close. 

He was almost there. 

He was…

Not looking at the carnage he’d thought he’d find. 

Stick in hand, ready to fight off whatever evil there was, but unable to locate said danger. 

Instead there was a woman under a blanket. “Uhm… OH…” 

Under a blanket.