Discomfort got me up before my alarm did.
I’d either discovered hitherto unknown, painful lumps in my sofa during the night or else created them while I slept. The result was the same either way - not the most restful night I’d had. My body was a roadmap of discomfort and fatigue. I creaked when I moved and whimpered when I stood up. Still. Worse things had happened.
Checking the time I saw I was sitting smack bang between too much time before I had to leave but not enough time before I said Sunset should show up. Slouching my way out of the room I saw no sign of my guest. Her clothes were still where I’d hung them and my bedroom door was still closed. I assumed she hadn’t woken up yet.
I had a brief and uninteresting breakfast involving milk and oats. Mostly I just stared out the kitchen window while I ate it and thought about life. No worthwhile conclusions as to its meaning were reached by the time I finished, and after I’d cleaned the bowl I had enough time to catch a flash of colour passing by and twig that it was Sunset before she knocked.
“How’s your guest?” She asked upon me opening the door. She was smiling, which was always a nice thing to see early in the morning. Sets the day up right.
“She’s not awake. I don’t think,” I said as Sunset unnecessarily wiped her boots off on the mat. This made me notice that my guest had not done this last night and had left a trail all the way to the bathroom. I’d have to clean that later.
“Where is she?” Sunset asked. I jerked my head backwards.
“Bedroom,” I said. She raised an eyebrow at me.
“She’s sleeping in your bed?” She asked. Suggestively. Her tone dripped with insinuation. I wasn’t going to rise to it.
“Well, yes. She’s a guest. I slept on the sofa.”
“How very chivalrous of you,” she said, smirking.
That made me frown. I felt I was being misconstrued. I hate being misconstrued. It’s my least favourite thing to be. Think that I’m a wanker, sure. Call me one to my face, fine. But be very clear about my motivations and don’t get them muddled. I hate that.
“Chivalry, posh. It’s just what you’re meant to do. If you slept here you’d sleep in the bed. It’s my home, that’s what you’re meant to do,” I said. The smirk on her face flickered and she looked away, tucking some hair behind her ear and clearing her throat.
“If you say so. What’s she like, this girl?” She asked, turning back to me. I had to think about this. I’d spent an evening with my guest but I really hadn’t learned anything about her at all. Not even her name. And she’d done and said so little that there really wasn’t a lot I could go on. She was a mystery to me.
“Quiet,” I said. I couldn’t really think of any other way of describing her. ‘Hungry’ maybe, but I decided against that. Sunset was obviously disappointed with my answer.
“What does she look like? How old is she? What’s her name? Anything?”
“Uh. Well. Didn’t catch her name but she’s, well, a girl. About your age, I’d think. About your height. Has...hair? Quite big hair.”
I’m not a detail-orientated person. Especially not when it comes to other people. I barely know what I look like. Other people tend to blur together after a while, at least unless I actually get to know them properly. Even then it’s touch and go. Sunset visibly despaired, pinching the bridge of her nose and screwing her eyes shut.
“I worry about you. But it’s okay. You’ve got this far in life,” she said. This sounded to me like a vote of confidence. She got me! She understands.
“Exactly!”
“Somehow…”
She grinned. I gave her a long suffering look. This is what I like to call a ‘moment’. Very fun, highly recommended.
“Cute. Anyway. Once she’s up and about can you just make sure she gets breakfast if she wants it - you know where everything is - and if she wants to leave she can do that. Just check she’s okay, alright?” I asked. This seemed like good instructions to me. It’s what I would have done if I’d been the one to hang around.
“I can do that,” Sunset said.
“Marvellous, thank you. You’re a star,” I said. This made her blush, which amused me greatly.
Checking my watch I saw that it was time for me to be somewhere else. I was, in fact, already running late somehow. I hate that.
“Alright I have to leave. Text me if the building collapses or something,” I said, giving her a pat on the back as I headed on out. She waved goodbye as I walked off and I waved back. All very pleasant. Reliable girl, Sunset.
Definitely have to get her something nice. Should probably ask when her birthday is sometime, too. That’s a nice thing to do, right? Someone should write me a list.
Work, once I got there, was nothing impressive. Unlock the doors, make sure things are working, serve the very few people who feel like wandering into a bar during the day, set everything up for the evening and night guys. Nothing to write home about. That I got paid at all for what was basically no real work seemed like a good deal to me because I was lazy to a fault. No tips to speak of for the day-shift, though. Swings and roundabouts.
At the very least it gave me more time to think. Whether this was good or not was anyone’s guess. My mind wandered over the veritable army of questions I should really have been asking last night or would have to ask in the immediate future. Where had she come from? Was she actually alright? Did she have anywhere to go? Was there anyone she should talk to?
It really wasn’t my area of expertise. I really had no idea where to even start. Maybe I’d done everything I was supposed to. Maybe I’d missed something really obvious. At the very least I hoped I hadn’t been too overwhelmingly bad. She hadn’t died. That was a plus.
So the day happened. The guys for the evening came in. I left. I wondered how things had gone at home. I’d sort of been wondering about that all day. Sunset hadn’t sent me any messages about anything awful happening or anything good happening so I was completely in the dark. I liked to think that everything had gone well. A bit of me really hoped that the guest girl had gone and I could just watch a film with Sunset or whatever. That would be a very pleasant end to any day, in my book.
Another part of me - a surprisingly large part - kind of sort of wanted my guest to still be around. If only on the off-chance that she might be more talkative. I could ask if she was okay, and she could say yes or no, and it’d be interesting. Could even find out her name, maybe. Novelty is a big draw, it seems.
All of which added together to make me more excited to get home than I usually was, which was saying something. I practically had a spring my step as I turned to walk up my street. Oddly, Sunset seemed to have been waiting and watching for me as the door opened even as I was fumbling for my keys and she just stood there, giving me an inscrutable look.
“Uh, hi?” I asked. She said nothing though, and merely stood back to let me in.
Increasingly ominous behaviour, this. She was the one to shut the door this time, and I found this co-opting of what I usually did rather uncomfortable. Best not to make an issue of it.
The flat was silent. Leaning into the main room I saw that it was empty. Looking up the hall I saw the bedroom door was still closed. The build-up of ominous was now almost unbearable. Had something awful happened? Had the girl turned into some kind of weird, gooey cocoon in the corner of the room ala Species?
Why was that the first thing I thought of? Says a lot about me.
I could bear it no more. I had to know what had happened, if anything. I turned back to Sunset. She had her arms folded and was still giving me the weirdest look I think I’d ever got from her.
“Where is she?” I asked. It struck me that she had asked me this exact same question earlier in the day. It’s all cyclical, isn’t it?
“She barricaded herself in your room the instant she saw me. Hasn’t even tried to come out since.”
This was not what I’d expected to hear, but given how weirdly things were going since I let a damp and bedraggled stranger into my home last night I was willing to roll with it. Shrugging my jacket off I moved past Sunset to go and hang it up. This involved squeezing past her, but she was only little so it wasn’t too tough.
“Wow. You have that effect on people before or was this the first time?” I asked. Sunset cocked her head, looking at me as though I were mad. She followed me to the kitchen.
“You know who that is, right?” She asked, voice low, thumb jerked back over her shoulder. I shrugged.
“A person? Not a clue, no. I still don’t really know what to do about her. Do I call social? Probably too old for that. Maybe? No idea how old she is. Looks kinda your age but I really don’t know. Never good with ages, me,” I said. Or babbled, to be more precise. This earned me a frown from Sunset, the accusatory look still coming strong.
“That’s Adagio Dazzle,” she practically hissed. I blinked. I then moved to the fridge and pulled out two bottles. Coke, or the nearest knockoff equivalent. It would have been beer but Sunset lacked my preference for drinking at any available opportunity. Opening both, I handed one to her, though she didn’t seem to know what to do with it. I took a swig and leaned back on the counter.
“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something to me.”
‘Accusatory’ now became ‘disbelieving’ and she just gaped at me.
“Do you not pay attention to anything that happens in town?” She asked, appalled. I took another swig.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Well do you want me to tell you about it? So you know who you let into your house?”
“It’s not really a house but go ahead. Enlighten me,” I said with a regal wave of my bottle-hearing hand. Sunset bit her tongue on whatever response she might have wanted to give this and drew herself up for a full and frank batch of explanation.
I was immediately given a riveting tale of musical competition, fraught friendship and pyrotechnical magical confrontation culminating in the defeat of a trio of otherworldly, supernatural entities. This girl - Adagio- was apparently the leader of these entities, and she and her cohorts had fled in de-powered disgrace following their loss. None of them had been seen since, and this was all a few days ago.
That would explain all the noise I heard. And the fliers I’d seen about the very event she was now describing. And the sporadic local coverage I’d been practically unable to fully avoid. I’d sort of blocked it all out as nothing to do with me. Because it wasn’t anything to do with me.
Sunset was very upfront about the existence of the magical and the awesome. When she started her anecdote out she’d been very clear that I should bear with her and take her at her word and I could sort of see why, now. I’m not sure what I can do when I’m told that three girls became strange, aquatic, emotion-devouring monsters on stage while battling another group of girls who’d spontaneously grown ears, tails and all sorts on account of the magic of friendship.
I did what I always do when confronted by unusual and unexpected information. I listened to all of it with a blank and impassive face and just absorbed it. Because that’s my party trick.
“I see,” I said, once it was all done. I said it with complete seriousness, stroking my chin and nodding.
“I know, right?” Sunset said. She seemed exhausted by her retelling of recent events. She’d had the kind of energy someone who had been waiting to explain things often has, and now it was spent.
“Does this sort of thing happen often around here?” I asked, and her face soured.
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
“Yes! Well, I mean - not often. But sometimes. Once or twice. At least once before. It’s not important. Point is that it did happen. I’m not making it up. Ask anyone who was there,” she said, seeming to realise she was going in a bad direction midway through the sentence and veering back onto something she felt was safer. I could see it on her face. I was none the wiser, of course. Probably nothing.
As regards asking anyone who’d been at the event in question the words ‘mass delusion’ bubbled to the surface of my brain. I pushed them back down again. Sure it sounded like nonsense. Sure it was probably some craziness with no basis in anything. What would pointing that out do to help me? Here I was, conversing in hushed tones with an acquaintance while a strange girl holed up in my bedroom. Things were unusual enough already.
“Where does that leave me? Does this make her some kind of fugitive? Am I expected to turn her over to the occult constabulary or something like that?” I asked. Sunset didn’t seem to have thought this far ahead as she was caught flat-footed.
“No. Well, kind of? Maybe? I don’t know! Look - I’m just saying you can’t trust her. She’s dangerous,” she said. Then what she’d just said she’d to have left a bad taste in her mouth as she winced, face wrinkling. Whatever the cause of this was went way over my head and I didn’t feel this was the time to ask. Again, I felt there was a whole layer to this conversation that only she was experiencing.
“I mean, you should just be careful is all. People can change but sometimes it’s not...” she struggled to find words and then obviously just gave up try, shoulders slumping. “Just be careful.”
“Should I do anything else? I genuinely have no idea what I’m meant to do. You said she’s dangerous?” I asked. She hadn’t looked especially dangerous but that meant nothing in the real world. Sunset fidgeted, playing with the bottle in her hands and starting to pick at the label. I hate that. I hoped she would pick up on how much I hated it as I silently thought about how much I hated it. Oh how I hated it.
“She might be. I think something broke when they lost but that could mean anything. Maybe they all just got weakened. Maybe they’re done for good. Maybe it’s all a trick to make people let their guards down. I don’t know,” she said, shrugging, label picking.
“Conclusive,” I said, finishing the bottle and finding my attention drifting to a nearby counter where I saw an especially large toast crumb. Not sure how I’d missed that. Irritating. From the corner of my eye Sunset seemed to shrink in on herself.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt.”
Sunset had said this with such gut-wrenching sincerity that I did a double-take and looked back at her. Her expression was one of genuine concern and her eyes fixed unblinkingly on mine. I had to turn away, clearing my throat.
“I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy. Don’t worry about me.”
“I do thought,” she said. Very sweet of her to say. I couldn’t help but smile, albeit a little lopsided, and that made her smile to. Much better. I decided to maybe steer things in a nicer direction.
“Feel like hanging around this evening or…?” I asked, leaving the question hanging so she could fill in the blank herself. Her smile broadened.
“I’d like that. But it’s probably better if I go. She won’t leave if I’m here,” she said.
“So I’m going to have to deal with this on my own?”
“You are the one who let her in,” Sunset pointed out. I groaned, because I knew she was right.
“This is what I get for being a good Samaritan. I made my bed, now she’s sleeping in it.”
It was now Sunset’s turn to groan. I was actually quite proud of that one.
Neither of us were sure what to say after that, or where to look. I found myself admiring her boots. They really were quite nice. Maybe boots would be a good gift idea. Would they be bank-breakingly expensive? Would I get them wrong somehow? Probably on both counts. Disregard that.
“I’ll go,” she said, setting her completely untouched bottle on the counter. I nodded.
For a second it seemed like she was about to move in for a hug, only to think better of it and instead very awkwardly sort of pat me on the upper arm. Her hand stayed for a moment and we had a very odd, silent moment of eye-contact before she turned and headed to the door. I followed her, for it was polite to walk guests out.
“Have a nice night,” I said.
“You too! Good luck…” She said, smirk returning and giving me an overly-enthusiastic thumbs up as she walked off. I just waved.
With her gone and the door closed again, the place was once again uncomfortably quiet. I stood in place, deliberately not turning to face towards the bedroom. As though keeping it behind me would somehow keep it from being a problem I had to deal with. I gritted my teeth.
Magic. What rot.
I’m a fairly skeptical person by nature, but I’m not averse to believing ridiculous things provided I see some kind of evidence. I’ll even let ridiculous things slide and feel ambivalent about them if they don’t really affect my life in any real way.
The idea that the sodden and unhappy girl I’d allowed into my home was, in fact, some creature from another world that fed on negative emotions and had been banished here as a result was one that I couldn’t quite get on board with. I mean sure, maybe it was true, go nuts, but in all honesty what were the odds of that?
Not that it really mattered. It hardly affected what I had to do right now, which was try to coax a girl out of my bedroom. Not something I thought I’d be having to deal with a week previously but that’s just how quickly life moves, I suppose. Turning at last I tip-toed down the hallway and took a steadying breath.
I tapped a knuckle on the door.
“Hello? You okay in there?”
There was nothing. I tapped again. Nothing again.
“...Adagio?” I asked.
“Is she gone?” Came the reply. I double-checked, even though I already knew.
“Yep, she’s gone.”
I heard movement on the other side and then she opened the door a crack, peering up and out at me. She really did have the biggest eyes. It was quite disarming.
“Why did you invite her?” She asked with considerable venom. I mean she really spat it at me. If she’d put a little more effort in it might have drawn blood. I actually flinched.
“I didn’t know she knew who you were. I didn’t know that apparently everyone knows who you are. I may well be the only person in town who doesn’t. And still don’t, really.”
This she seemed to consider. Then she sighed and stepped back, opening the door up properly.
She was still wearing the same clothes I’d given her yesterday and looked more-or-less how she’d looked then. Apart from her hair. Her hair had regained some of what I imagined was it’s normal glory, and it really was something to see. I’d often heard people describe a ‘mane’ of hair and I’d always figured it was just hyperbole. With her it was not. A mane was what this was. The thing was a veritable thicket of frizz and curls. Actually very impressive. Difficult not to just stare. I shook my head and refocused on her face.
“What did she tell you?” She asked. “About me, I mean.”
“That you were some kind of dangerous, inhuman thing from another dimension. Banishment was mentioned. Songs that could ensnare the mind. Eating of emotions. Things like that. You were the leader of some kind of trio, she said?”
It was her turn to flinch when she heard this and she looked away, shrinking in on herself. I felt it best to try and move things on in a sunnier direction.
“But that doesn’t matter much to me. My primary concern - as the person who asked if you wanted to come in from the rain - is that you’re in one piece and that you’re doing alright,” I said. I probably could have worded it better in all honesty but that’s how it came out.
I probably should have cared more about the prospect of a dangerous person in my home who was not actually a person at all. But no matter how many times I ran the concept through my head it still didn’t feel anymore real or immediate to me. What did, however, was the girl standing directly in front of me. She looked very real, and so I had to work off of that.
From the way she looked at me I could tell she was trying to work out if I was being serious or not. Honestly, I still didn’t really know myself. I’d meant what I’d said, mind. My feelings on all of this magical brouhaha were still unclear. I hadn’t seen any, so for all I knew this was all an elaborate prank.
Still - Sunset had been nothing but open and honest with me from the very moment I met her, so this sort of jackknife turn into fantasy out of nowhere wasn’t really the sort of thing I’d expect her to do. I was torn. Do I trust a girl who’s never steered me wrong, or my own eyeballs and gut? Trustworthy organs, in the past.
Then again, Adagio continued to not look like a giant monster and had shown no signs of feeding off my dark human nature or singing me into acting against my best interests. Yet. Suppose it’d just be best to keep on my toes and play things by ear.
“Do you mean that?” She asked.
“Every word.”
She didn’t look overwhelmingly convinced, but I could tell that in her head she realised she didn’t have much choice either way. Must be a pisser, that. She tugged at the hem of the t-shirt and studied the inscrutable band name printed across it. It remained a cute look on a girl, in my opinion, but again that was beside the point.
“Thank you, I guess. For last night. Letting me in and food and your bed,” she said. Mumbled would be closer the mark, and she was still fiddling my t-shirt as she said it rather than paying attention to me. But it was a start. I was fairly certain that was the first expression of gratitude I’d actually heard from her. Her reluctance in giving it seemed to add to its significance, or that could have just been my imagination.
“It’s quite alright. Anyone would have done it,” I said. She scoffed quietly, still fiddling. I worried she might start picking a hole in the thing soon if she didn’t stop. I liked that shirt.
“We are going to have to talk about this, though. If only to know where we stand, hmm?” I said, if only to draw her attention. It worked and her eyes snapped up to me again.
“Talk about what?” She asked. This seemed obvious to me, but that’s me.
“You. Being here. That sort of thing. I mean, you can’t - and probably don’t want to! - stay here longer than you have to.”
“Oh,” she said, and it became immediately clear that she had no actually considered what her next step should be in the slightest. “I can’t stay here?” She asked, as though double-checking.
“Uh, maybe another night at most but beyond that it’s probably best not. Don’t you have anywhere you can go or anyone you can stay with?”
She did not respond.
“Right?”
This was apparently the wrong thing to say as she promptly burst into tears.