notes: I like the idea that Cecil was lonely while Carlos was in the Desert Otherworld and adopted a dog to keep him company; thus was born Phoebe, the rambunctious secret terrier that they both spoil to death.
Night Vale belongs to Commonplace Books, I just write way too many stories about it
"I love you."
The sentiment goes unreciprocated before the call ends with a tidy beep. The scientist exhales, imagining that his unsteady breath is the only exchange of air in the house. It isn't - hasn't been for at least an hour. Whatever is breathing is currently standing in the kitchen. Two sets of functioning lungs separated by only layers: flaking drywall and kitschy paper and starched cotton and worn flannel and skin.
Carlos shudders instinctively.
As if sensing his anxiety, Phoebe hops into his lap. Invisible paws knead a circle into his jeans before she settles her weight as a reassuring presence against his stomach. The habitual motion of stroking her ghostly fur calms him. "Just you and me now," he whispers to her. Of course it isn't true, given the audible rasp emanating from the other side of the wall. "And the Faceless Old Woman, maybe." This is also probably untrue, as much as he hopes otherwise. Two mornings prior, Cecil's collection of bolo ties was knotted into a noose and lain tenderly across the foot of their bed. They had taken it as an omen that the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lived In Their Home had decided to become the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Nobody's Home in a final attempt to escape the horror that was befalling the town. Still, the thought of a familiar invader facelessly and noisily breathing in the kitchen brings Carlos an odd modicum of comfort.
After several quiet moments, Phoebe abandons his lap in favor of the backyard where she can bark at the ghost cars that zip through the empty alleyway. In her absence, Carlos takes to fidgeting again with the portable radio on the coffee table. He and Cecil had worked on modifying it the night before. Between Cecil's recollections from earning his subversive radio host badge and Carlos' natural aptitude for building devices, they had enhanced the small machine to pick up clandestine wavelengths broadcast from outside the radio station. It was a precaution taken due to one of Cecil's slightly-psychic feelings. He couldn't explain exactly what he knew was coming, but he had been positive that whatever was about to happen, communication would be difficult.
The radio in his hands is shaking. Carlos is also shaking. The scientist realizes with an absurd laugh that the two events directly correlate. With each turn of the dial, Carlos grows more desperate for anything to emerge through the empty static. Inhale, exhale. He forces himself not to sync his breathing with the sounds emanating from the kitchen. Inhale, exhale. It's closer now. Inhale. Don't think about the strangers. Exhale. Don't calculate the distance to the sound. A voice breaks through the blur of nothingness on the device. Cecil's words break through Carlos' calculation of loci between himself, the intruding stranger, and escape.
"But part of me wonders…what if one of those rare times I forgot to hug him goodbye, or failed to say 'I love you,' turns out to be the last time I have that chance? Lots can go wrong in an indifferent universe. I'll see him in a couple of hours, right? I'll see Carlos later. Right, Maureen?"
As the broadcast continues, a phone call comes through with only muffled barking and the heavy breathing of a stranger. There is no goodbye from Cecil, no response at all before the broadcast clips back to jarring static. With only dubious consideration for a plan of action, Carlos finds himself behind the wheel of his coupe and already making a beeline toward the station. Off in the distance, yet somehow simultaneously seeming to crowd the parking lot, are dozens of gray-faced strangers. They breathe laboriously as one. Carlos ignores it all, even the offended beeping of his car as he abandons it unceremoniously with the driver door ajar. Despite his reckless, uncoordinated path through the corridors, he is still too late. Cecil is slumped on the worn berber carpet, paling skin blending seamlessly with an adjacent faded coffee stain that creeps across the upholstery beneath his desk. The scientist drops to his knees without even noticing the couple still standing against the wall of plexiglass to the production room.
"Cecil, honey, oh honey, I'm here. I'm right here," Carlos soothes, fingers smoothing out the mess of ebony hair that frames Cecil's pallid face. The man on the floor gasps through a staggering breath. His eyes search the scientist's face without focusing. The back of a hand isn't the most scientific or accurate instrument for reading temperatures, but Carlos can tell even from a gentle press to Cecil's forehead that his body is far too cold already. Carlos takes Cecil's hand and his boyfriend reciprocates by clinging to him with a death grip. "Deep breaths, baby." An attempt to follow the instructions fails when Cecil chokes on some unseen force and coughs his way back to shallow gasps.
A small wet nose nudges at Carlos' jeans, and he swats the intrusion away before the realization sets in that they aren't alone in the booth. Chad's focus rests entirely on the dog at the end of the leash, but Maureen can't tear her eyes away from the scientist hovering over his dying boyfriend. She may have had her serious disagreements with Cecil, but Carlos had always tried to show her kindness in the brief time they spent together in the Otherworld Desert. Their eyes meet and her head shakes minutely, an amalgamation of remorse and horror tugging her mouth open.
"Maureen, help him, please! This isn't- this can't be what you wanted! You're not a killer, Maureen. Please," Carlos begs. Even Chad seems unsettled by watching the scene play out from such a close vantage. "Killing people won't fix things. It won't change this city. The only thing it will change is you. Is this-this legacy of destruction what either of you really want to leave behind?" The brief speech leaves him winded. After gulping down a bit of air, he finishes his argument. "Take that dog back to the park. We can fix this place together if you let me help you, but this isn't the way. Just stop this. Please."
For a tense moment nobody moves, but the spell breaks when the dog yelps an impatient howl. Chad looks between the beagle to Cecil's limp body and back again. A single decisive yank on the leash and the puppy is leaping up and into the former intern's arms. Without a word he leaves the room, but Maureen remains rooted a moment longer.
"There's nothing we can do to stop it," Maureen says quietly. "We can take the dog back, but it won't fix anything. The hellish darkness is already spreading. It won't end until this place is a ghost town." The young woman reaches out a hand toward the scientist. "I'm-" the apology twists and tangles on her tongue until it becomes something else entirely. "I'm never joining in on the ground-level of a stupid startup ever again." She gives one last regretful look to the couple in the room before she too leaves.
The hand clasped in the scientist's fingers is lifeless now, the unnatural gray of the skin only accentuated by the splashy neon of the friendship bracelets he and Janice made together long ago. Every detail seems to leap out in stark contrast against the steady fade of Cecil's vitality. Carlos should leave, but he can't banish the idea that if he looks away for even a second, Cecil's face will suddenly be unfamiliar to him and the love of his life will become nothing more than a nameless stranger. Besides, he muses, if there's truly nothing to fix this epidemic then this is where he wants to spend his last minutes: right next to Cecil. The scientist lays down, eyes closed. He can imagine that they're home now, the even breathing nothing more than the rhythm of a peaceful sleep. It will be interesting, at any rate, to experience death for longer than the few minutes it takes at the pawn shop. Perhaps it will even be something quantifiable that he can study from whatever other side may or may not await them together. His grip on Cecil's hand tightens as he prepares himself for the unknown.
Carlos wants so badly to clear his mind and just let himself drift into however this transformation happens, but the buzzing in his brain won't allow it. Over and over it turns the situation like a giant puzzle cube shifting between the fingers of logic. His thoughts snag on something, two words that won't stop tumbling over and over each other.
Hellish darkness.
Hellish.
Darkness.
His eyes snap open as a corner of the puzzle cube shifts into place. There might be a way. It would be a stretch, but..but it's at least worth trying. It takes everything in him to leave Cecil. A single kiss to his forehead before Carlos forces himself to the door. He doesn't turn back for one last look for fear that he won't recognize the face he sees anymore.
His car still beeps indignantly as he climbs inside. Everything feels too difficult, as if all the air in the atmosphere were suddenly exchanged for water. Movement comes slowly and breathing is a challenge. Carlos flexes his fingers to restore a tinge of lost feeling before setting his course for the car lot. It only requires 14 steps to get from his car to the front door of Old Woman Josie's trailer, but the action leaves him breathless beyond belief. He's just in the middle of administering a second puff from his inhaler when she opens the door. Her eyes are sad as she looks over the device in his hand and then does the same to the scientist himself. He knows just as well as she does how futile albuterol is at this point, but if he can pretend it's just asthma and not a supernatural transformation, then it's something familiar that he can still control in the midst of the panic.
"I heard about Cecil. Oh, sugar, I'm so sorry," Josie offers with a warm hug. Carlos nods, still working to catch his breath. Unexpectedly, his legs spasm and nearly give out beneath him, causing him to slump against the aluminum doorframe. Josie reaches out a hand to steady him. "Is there anything we can do?"
"I need Erika," Carlos manages. Josie looks around her crowded home.
"Which one?"
"All of them," he gasps.
The sun has abandoned Night Vale entirely. The moon too has betrayed them into the gathering darkness. Every sidewalk is crowded now with the distant strangers, their soggy breaths leaking into the night like a singular humid pulse. Carlos can feel his own breathing slowing to match if he doesn't focus. Walking is proving almost as difficult as breathing, his legs spasming and cramping with each step. The pain coursing further up his body is excruciating, but still he pulls himself from lamppost to lamppost alongside Erika. The angel touches each bulb they encounter - a feather-light twist and tighten. The electricity is still out all over town when Carlos and Josie and dozens of angels converge upon City Hall. The building is empty; all the strangers now stand along the streets outside. Carlos is standing too, but barely. He wobbles and falls back against the impassive marble pillars of City Hall.
"We need," he pants. "Generator." The angels look from one to the next with the same expression reading on their many faces - Carlos thinks it is concern. "I have one. Home. My…where is home?" His thoughts blur together, concepts smearing into an unremarkable, indistinct gray. "I…" something needs to be asked for, help of some sort he knows, but he can't formulate the proper question.
"Fine, I mean, I guess I do have a generator," Erika concedes. One pair of their eyes wears solid gold shutter shades; another pair of their eyes rolls dramatically. "And it's big. Bigger than anyone else's I'm sure. By a lot."
Josie, who has also begun to struggle for air, expends a great deal of effort shoving the angel with the edge of her walker.
"Fine! Fine, I'll go get it. Geez." A flap of shimmering golden wings and the angel disappears and reappears almost immediately several feet away with a shiny mechanism the size of a small house. "Just don't get fingerprints on the rhodium plating," Erika drawls. Josie nudges them again, but affectionately this time. With the last of her energy, she literally drags Carlos to the machine and locks his fingers around the handle.
For a long moment he stares at the device. It looks scientific, like it should do something, but he can't tell its purpose by sight alone. A large cable on the side seems to connect to City Hall, so he supposes it's designed to be important. The strange old lady in the shawl is gesturing feebly at him. She seems to expect him to do something impressive, so he gives her as reassuring a smile as he can muster. Her only response is a look of concern. His attention directs back to the shiny machine on which his hands rest. There's a lever beneath his palms, and his scientific curiosity is suddenly piqued. What would happen if he just..flipped the switch…
The effort it requires causes him to collapse to the pavement. Exhale. The breathing all around pulls at him, tempting him to join in the rhythm of the faceless song. But there's a hum of electricity beneath the noise as the whole city flickers to light. Like a beacon, all of Night Vale is swiftly illuminated.
It's beautiful, even if Carlos can't process it fully. His breathing is slowing, but he wants one last thing: just to touch the dazzling light. His fingers cross into a dappled beam that streams between the pillars from the search lights of City Hall. The warm glow touches cold, ashen skin. The light plays across a blanched palm as he tilts it upward. He blinks and suddenly his palm is tawny, then a soft brown that looks almost familiar. There's something about the light, something important that feels just beyond the reach of memory… Like turning the focus dial of a microscope, his mind sharpens the words into clarity.
Holy light.
The only thing left to banish the hellish dark.
His breathing quickens out of tempo as he pushes himself fully into the beam of light. It floods through him and he's laughing with relief and exhilaration. It feels so so good to breathe again. All around him he sees familiar faces stepping into the light of streetlamps and the fluorescent radiance of storefront windows. Other sounds join in the breathing: laughter and tears and shouts of confusion, and it is all so beautiful. A sudden, very important memory is restored to the scientist and he breaks into a dead run. Face after face passes as he trips over wobbly legs, but he's looking for a specific face amidst the strangers.
"Ceec!" he calls as soon as he sees the man standing beneath the glow of a neon burlesque marquee. The scientist stops just short of reaching him, not wanting to startle him if he's not fully recovered yet. "Honey, do you, are you-" Cecil's eyes are unfocused as he searches the scientist's face. For one final moment Carlos feels all the air leave his lungs again, until Cecil removes a very cracked pair of hornrim glasses from his back pocket and slips them on. Amber eyes widen in recognition.
"Carlos!"
Carlos wants to run to him then, but the rush of emotions is overwhelming and he feels entirely frozen except for a choked sob that manages to work its way out of him. He cups a hand over his mouth and lets Cecil be the one to do the running. Carlos wraps his arms around Cecil as they finally meet, feels desperate kisses to his hair and his eyelid and his ear and anywhere Cecil can reach. The scientist's fingers bunch in the velour of Cecil's romper and refuse to let go until he's sure his boyfriend will still really be there if he does.
Immediately upon separating, Cecil cups Carlos' face in both his hands. "I love you so much. I need you to know that. No matter what happens to me or you or us, you need to know that I love you always." His tone is urgent as if the danger still lay before them and not behind by this point.
Carlos nods. "I do, Cecil." Then, to break the intensity, "but don't you ever die again without saying you love me back." He means it as a joke, but only as he says the words aloud does he realize the full gravity of everything they've just experienced. Suddenly he's shaky and sobbing again, but Cecil is there to hold him steady.
Cecil murmurs comforting words to his boyfriend, just the two of them swaying gently in the midst of dozens of others who are also having teary reunions as they recognize their own loved ones once again. "Hey, Bunny, do you remember what today is?" Cecil asks once Carlos finally transitions into post-tear hiccups.
The scientist leans away to dab at his eyes with the cuffs of his lab coat. Carlos has only just begun to recall his own address; and with time flowing the way it does, even attempting to guess the date causes his head to ache. "What?" he asks, giving up guessing in favor of burrowing back against Cecil's chest.
Tightening his arms protectively around the scientist, Cecil leans to whisper in his ear. "Happy Anniversary."
notes: yeah, Things Fall Apart technically comes a month before the anniversary show but shhh, time isn't real anyway~ also I'm in complete denial that "Who's A Good Boy" even happened so I decided to post this! If you enjoyed this, leave a like or a comment! and if you'd like to toss a prompt my way or gush about how brave Carlos is or sit in communal dread of the next two weeks with me, I can be found at ducktelepathy on Tumblr!