#mossyrose

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It had been a few weeks since the pair had become one. Adjusting to their new situation had been a slight challenge, yet they were happy together regardless of any disagreements they had. The two understood the fundamental truth that they would have to be willing to communicate clearly with each other at all times.

This was easier said than done. But then again, that’s how relationships tend to work, isn’t it? Despite how perfectly synchronized they’d become, they still had and would continue to have problems that must be addressed and fixed as best as the two realistically could.

One of their first arguments after “becoming whole”, as Chris enjoyed phrasing it (mostly to fluster Andrew), had been nothing more than a bump in their relationship:

After Andrew had gotten a new PC, he’d struggled with setting it up properly. He wanted it as secure as possible, but when Chris tried to help, he’d gotten irritable with him.

—

“Chris, I’ve got this.”

“If you say so,” Chris sighed sarcastically, resigning himself to the role of an observer. They’d both remained silent for a short while, until Andrew spoke up.

“Oh, come on,” he chuckled with the slightest hint of bitterness to his tone, “the silent treatment? Really? After everything I went through to save you?”

“Andrew,” Chris began, pausing to carefully think out his response. Unfortunately, before he could speak it, Andrew spoke again. Chris could feel their heart ache and emotion rise from a chest and up through a throat and eyes that were never meant to be shared by two people.

“Do you have any clue how much god damn stress I was under that whole time?! You could hardly speak to me! I missed speaking to you, and-and now that- now that we finally can, and I mean properly can, you go quiet on me?! I-”

Andrew tried to continue his ranting, but tears began to spill from his eyes. And then, they began to pour out, soaking his clothes as Chris raised his right arm warily to wipe away as many of the other’s tears as he could before placing his hand gently over Andrew’s racing heart. Chris always seemed to know just how to be there for him… it was selfish of him to think of things only from his own perspective.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew choked out, “I’m so sorry. Fuck, this is selfish of me. Chris, I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to… hurt you. I never wanted to-”

With a tired voice as soft as a warm hug, Chris spoke; “I understand. Honestly, I do. I mean every syllable of that. Just… please relax, and then we can talk about this, okay?”

“Okay, you’re right, I-” Andrew sniffled and shivered as he began breathing slowly again.

“You’re doing good, keep it up.”

Minutes later, when Chris felt Andrew’s heartbeat slow to a normal pace again, he moved his hand to hold Andrew’s firmly. “I’m right here. You won’t lose me again, okay?”

“You’re an angel, you know?” Andrew chuckled as he yawned. He felt his heartbeat skip a beat or two and his face grow hot. ‘Hm… Chris liked being called that…”

“Stop that,” Chris muttered as he squeezed his hand tighter, heat noticeable under the skin of his palm, “you know that I’m in your brain, right? I know what you’re thinking.”

He wasn’t sure if it had been the lack of proper sleep that was causing him to feel tired or something else, and he honestly didn’t care to know. Instead, he had two options right now: finish the task they started or flirt.

“Right, okay, got it. Sorry again, for-”

“Don’t be. I’ve missed you just as much. I honestly tried my hardest to reach you during my time stuck in your old computer.”

‘The whole time…? Damn, I might just be stupid’, Andrew thought solemnly. He couldn’t help but feel guilty over that fact, and the fact that he’s only now thought of it this much.

Chris paused to scoff at the thought that Andrew was sure he had just heard him think, but didn’t comment on it. “It’s my fault for not trying harder… but I do not think there was much more I could have done, realistically. So… I’m sorry for that, and I wish I could have done more.”

There was a comforting silence between them, interrupted by an error sound from the computer. Andrew’s gaze instantly locked onto the screen, as Chris mumbled the words on the screen: “Error: could not install Minecraft.”

“Damnit… our world!” Andrew growled, followed immediately by a yawn.

“Well, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right…” Andrew sighed, “I’m tired. Bed?”

“It’s only,” Chris glanced at the time shown in the bottom corner of the screen, “4 pm, though. Maybe we should get dinner first?”

Andrew pouted, “okay, fine, dinner first. Would you…” the words got caught in his throat, and Chris seemed to notice how he struggled to finish his sentence. He could guess what the next words would be, of course, given how Andrew was acting like a teenager with a crush about it… but where’s the fun in that?

“Would I… what?” Chris teased, audibly smirking from some corner of Andrew’s mind as his hand began to move the computer mouse around and tap a few keys. He’d pulled up a notepad that read “tomorrow’s plans: reply to your sister’s texts, Andrew.”

“Ah! Shit, I completely forgot, I’ll text her back now. Thanks.”

Chris hummed in disapproval, causing Andrew to freeze in place as he reached for his phone, “you’re welcome, but you haven’t answered my question. Don’t get distracted just yet.”

‘This fucking guy wants me dead, huh?’ Andrew thought, earning him a barely concealed laugh. “Fine, smartass, would you want to get dinner out?”

“Are you willing to shower first?”

Andrew shivered at the thought of water touching him ever again, and Chris seemed to notice this. “Hm… no, then? That’s alright, we’re both still recovering from…”

The words were left unspoken, though they both understood what he meant. “Yeah… look, I’m just happy to have you back, honestly. No need to go out to celebrate it or anything, yeah?”

“You’re sounding a little desperate,” Chris cooed, “this is your body, I’m just a passenger. You choose: get clean and go out or stay in and just relax together?”

“That is definitely a question…” Andrew muttered, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about his answer. “What do you think?”

“If I’m honest…” Chris began nervously, “I know how your body will react to contact with water in this state, having been there myself, but… it might be worth a shot. I also would like to see the outside world again… but, I can wait for your sake.”

“Well, now we’re just talking in circles. I’ll shower, just… uh… you know you’ll have to-” Andrew began as he stood up from his desk chair, Chris promptly moving his half to match Andrew (just as they’d practiced).

“Yeah, I know,” Chris stated, “if we’re sharing a body, we’ll have to get comfortable with this eventually.”

“Alright, just checking that you consent to… showering together… literally.” The scraggly man chuckled, “y’know, there really isn’t a better way to describe it.”

“Hah,” Chris laughed nervously, “well… yeah.”

Seeking Asylum : Chapter 1

The odors of moss and peat wafted from the cobblestone well. The ancient monument sat in wait, vines weaving intricate patterns in the thick grout, maw still damp and gaping. It called to Andrew with a ravenous insistence as he slunk into the clearing, shoulders bunched up. A barbed, rosebush whisper itched persistently in the recesses of hiss mind. He peered into the vast darkness below, grasping onto one of the precarious wooden pillars against his better judgment.

This, Andrew decided, is crazy. He'd followed… what? Some impulse? An animalistic instinct? A supernatural being?! Whatever the case, he ventured here like birds fly south during the winter, driven by some unexplainable magnetism. A part of himself wanted to leap into that damn well headfirst. What else was he meant to do? He got by on hints before, but this sparse clearing was otherwise empty. This whole thing was stupid — had been stupid — since the beginning.

Andrew lifted a stone from the leaf-strewn floor, judging its heft in his hands. After deeming it worthy, he dropped it into the hungry depths gently, an offering. It plummeted, the well swallowing it whole. After a few more seconds than comfortable, a quiet thud emitted out of the well. Another stone in its collection forevermore, deep down. Andrew huffed in frustration. This was getting him nowhere.

"Is someone there…?" A weak voice echoed up from the depths, almost inaudible— one Andrew recognized after years.

"Chris?!" Dread settled heavy in Andrew's gut. Chris was alive?! How long had he been down there for?!

"Andrew," Chris responded shakily. "The bucket. Lower–" a cough wracked through him, "lower the water bucket."

"R–right!" Andrew turned to the flimsy water pail, mentally kicking himself for being so imperceptive. He took the rough, weathered rope in his hands and eased the bucket down, heart racing. Could this be a trick? Another shadowy figure waiting among the depths, using Chris's likeness against him? Too late for that sort of thinking now, Andrew supposed. He'd outsmart it like he always did.

Once the rope was brought down to its capacity, Andrew gripping the knotted end like a lifeline, Chris tugged it twice. Clung to the flimsy twine, he ascended until he could see the sun. Stark sunlight illuminated his vision, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasing warmth permeated his damp skin for the first time in so long. Andrew desperately tugged the tattered rope forward, adrenaline doing most of the work. Before Chris could process the greenery, he was lifted up and out of his tomb, held carefully aloft in Andrew's arms, then lowered until his legs splayed across the mossy forest undergrowth.

Andrew inhaled sharply. The man in front of him was thin, almost emaciated— tatters of soaked-through clothes clinging to him almost as desperately as Andrew was— halfway drowned even though the sound of the sacrificed stone indicated no water. His dirty blond hair was soaked, slick to his scalp with grimy water. Despite Chris's lack of energy, he shivered constantly. The sun shone upon them, speckling through the thin canopy of trees, but it was not enough. Chris distantly wondered if he'd feel true warmth again.

"Chris, oh my God," Andrew's face scrunched up in equal parts renewed grief and relief. "We need to get you to a hospital or something. Chris, you're– you're—"

"No," A tremor shot through Chris. "No more hospitals. Please."

"O– okay," Andrew agreed too easily. "Let's get you back to my place. That should be fine." He said aloud to convince himself as much as Chris. "It's a short walk to the car. Do you think you can make it?"

Chris pushed himself up to sitting, grunting with the effort. Exhaustion settled in his bones, making the air thick and difficult to wade through. His arms, outstretched behind him, were his only support, gnarled fingernails burrowing crescents into the dirt below. Andrew spectated, brow furrowed in concern.

After a few minutes passed in silence save for Chris's stuttering, labored breaths, he descended into a coughing fit. His face turned sheet-white, then blackened sludge poured from his mouth, tainting the grassy clearing. Tears and snot slipped down his face, joining the curdling puddle.

When Chris came to, wiping his mouth with his arm, he noticed Andrew behind him, one hand on his back and the other holding his hair away from the mess. His hair, beyond rescue save for a deep cleaning, held away from this mess. It was silly and frivolous, yet he felt so fond of the action and his savior beside him. They sat a while more until the inky puddle became too gross for either of them to look at. Chris crinkled his nose as he acutely registered the awful smell. Seeing the other's expression, Andrew stood, brushing the leaves off his jeans before offering his arm.

"Grab on," Andrew stated plainly, more of a suggestion than a demand. Nonetheless, Chris reached for the offered limb, pulling himself up. Eyes hazy with sun-rays, it haloed Andrew in golden honey hues.

Wrapping an arm around Andrew's shoulders, Chris pressed into Andrew, nothing left in him except the knowledge that they couldn't stay here. Andrew slowed to accommodate. They wordlessly made their way out from under the canopy of trees and through the sparse thicket walling them in. The pair stumbled into the pavement path, Chris flinching at the foreign glare from the sunset. The car was a couple metres away, a rusty red minivan standing proudly.

"You still–" Chris paused to gasp in some air, "have that thing?"

Andrew barked out a surprised laugh. "That's the first thing you ask me?" When Chris only smiled tautly, his pale complexion turning more gaunt, Andrew dragged him to the passenger's side, setting him down into the seat and slamming the stubborn door shut. Under different circumstances, Chris would be seething in embarrassment. While Andrew shuffled into the driver's seat, Chris preoccupied himself by staring at the old takeout bags below his feet, clenching his jaw and trying to will the gravity of the situation away.

"You're shivering," Andrew frowned. "Hold on—" He turned around, rummaging around the cluttered backseats. He returned with a thick black hoodie, the lining fluffy and inviting. Andrew held it out. "I swear it's not usually this messy, I've been—"

"Busy?" Chris finished, slipping his arms through the soft fabric. It smelled like a mixture of Andrew, laundry detergent, and car. It was perfect.

"Yeah… Hey," Andrew interrupted himself as Chris's expression shifted, tears welling up in his eyes. "What's the matter? I mean– obviously—"

"Andrew," Chris sobbed out, the dam breaking now that he was finally somewhere safe, "Andrew. You're here. Sorry, I'm just—" He reached up to cover his face with a sleeved arm.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm here. You're here," Andrew promised, taking Chris's hand in his, rubbing his calloused thumb over bony knuckles. Chris squeezed tightly, like Andrew could disappear in front of him at any moment. How many times had he seen that happen, his best friend running headfirst into danger on his behalf? "We're going home, okay?"

"Okay," Chris sniffled, "okay."

"Wait, I've probably got some napkins here somewhere…" Andrew slipped out of Chris's grasp, awkwardly opening the glove box on the passenger side. It bumped softly against Chris's knees, and Andrew produced some paper napkins, no doubt from a prior fast food run.

Chris accepted them, wiping away tears that wouldn't stop coming. Soaking and dirtying the cheap paper until it was just like him— torn and dirtied beyond repair.

"Andrew…?" Chris's voice crackled.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a water back there or something…?"

"Yeah. I should have figured..." Andrew turned back around to rummage in the backseats. "This okay?" He asked as he emerged, a half-empty plastic water bottle in his hand.

"Yes. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, you were just in– I don't even know."

"Andrew…?" Chris grinned hesitantly.

"Hm?" Andrew answered a little too immediately.

"Can we get Burger King?"

Andrew paused, biting the inside of his cheek to stop a smile from spreading across his face. This situation gave him the strangest déjà vu. He had rescued his best friend's battered body from some sort of fucked up supernatural well tens of minutes ago, and Andrew had the audacity to smile?