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~Chapter Five~
Pride Before a Fall
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Left with the crushed, bleeding mess that was my heart, I hoped that my brain would've shown me some sympathy tonight.
Alas, that was not the case.
Welcome to PSI One-oh-One, where sleep comes in a two-for-one package with future visions. It's hard to say which dreams are just dreams, and which dreams are prophetic posers ready to pop up in my face. Got a nightmare? Cross your fingers and hope to high hell that it's not going to fuck you over in real life.
Take the aftermath of Subspace for example.
Yeah. Not a fun time.
Shaking and shivering after a nightmare, Lucas used to scramble into my bed and hide under the sheets. I never realized what was going on at first, because he was careful about it, slinking back to his bed before the crack of dawn, but one fated day, he'd dropped his guard and I woke up with his sleeping face an inch away from mine.
As I'd watched Lucas breathe, the first thing that had sprung up to mind was Home. Lucas was practically my adopted brother, and it was so contradictory because my entire family was outgoing. In my home, there were no boundaries when it came to privacy. It sucked, but it was how we showed off our I love you's. My mom still liked to check on me every night before retiring to bed, and I had an invasive little shi- ahem, sister - who liked to barge into my room just to mess with me and my stuff. But as annoying as Tracy could get, she's not a jerk. Even now, there were still times when she felt vulnerable - times when she crawled into my bed and cuddled next to me after a bad nightmare.
I'm used to having someone invade my space, because I'm an older brother.
It's in my job description.
So in that split second, I'd decided that I'd liked this vulnerable side of Lucas. Lucas wasn't family by blood, but he was as good as one. Failing that, being there for him made me feel strong. It made me feel special. So I'd wrapped my arms around his skinny shoulders and pressed myself closer. Nightmares were one of the rare exceptions Lucas would let me in close, so I did just that. I'd hugged him. I'd whispered encouraging words and stroked his hair until the shaking died and he fell back asleep.
Other times, it'd be my turn to get the nightmares. I'd tumble out of dreams of the Ruined Zoo, terrified that I'd been too late, that Lucas had been hit by the Dark Cannon, that I'd failed to push him out of Wario's way, and I'd scramble to his side of the room just to make sure that he was safe and sound and sleeping. Somtimes, as deep of a sleeper he was, Lucas would groggily wake from our shared nightmares. Whenever that happened, he'd quietly traipse over to my bed and let me hug him because I'd be too ashamed to travel to his.
But my nightmare tonight is beyond strange. From the moment I step into my dream, I know that it's no ordinary trip to dreamland. It's definitely a vision... of sorts. Except that visions predict the future, and this exchange is DEFINITELY taking place in the now. It reminds me of Lucas's telepathy, of the rare times he shares his memories and thoughts with me.
Anyway, I enter this nightmare with a weird feeling of wrongness, the same kinda feeling you get when your near-sighted math teacher accidentally hands you the El Espanol worksheet instead of the Chapter One Pre-Algebra quiz. But I've barely registered it before a serious case of deja vu kicks into gear and raises the hairs on my arms.
This dream is familiar. Eerily familiar.
"Oi, shortfry."
And there it is. The floating disembodied voice.
I turn around. "Lucas...?"
It's not Lucas. That's for sure.
Ever since I started rooming with Lucas, I've had recurring dreams about this copycat with his voice. Occasionally. The first time I spotted the fuzzy outline of my stalker skulking around the corners of my vision like Slenderman, I woke up in cold sweat. Once, I tried calling out to him, but the figure never responded. His constant presence in my dreams made me uneasy, but he didn't DO anything, so I figured that it was just a trick of the light.
Then pretty recently, like about a year ago, "Slenderman" decided to make my nightmares a living hell. I got dreams of dying. Monthly. Sometimes, weekly. Once, the fiend stabbed me in the chest. Another time, he drowned me in the ocean.
I never got a good view of his face.
And the worst part? I'd forget everything about him when I woke up. So it's almost like I have selective amnesia, except that I only get total memory recall during my NEXT nightmare. How fucking convenient is that?
From the steam, the dark silhouette steps closer. "Lucas" gives a sharp bark of laughter. "So you're the idiot lusting after my twin brother. Not much of a looker, I'll add."
Great. Now my DREAMS want to talk about my gay crush.
I groan, "Kill me now-"
"Let me tell you a bedtime story, shortstack," "Lucas" says, ignoring me. He tosses a baseball up into the air and catches it easily with his palm. "Once upon a time, there was a kid with a smart mouth. Like you."
"Oh, stop it with the compliments."
"Don't laugh. He was a prideful fool and thought that he could do anything. Then one day, his mother died. He set out to avenge her death. Just before he could, his little brother stopped him. His little brother begged him not to go. The idiot didn't listen and left anyway. Guess what happened to him?"
Well, I'm guessing that he didn't live happily ever after, I wanna say, but decide not to smartmouth him back.
Good thing too. A crimson eye hovers an inch away from my face. "His body was never found."
His story rings in my ears. This is important. Something about this story is key to uncovering his identity.
Too bad I don't know why.
I bristle. "Are you threatening me?"
"Lucas" ignores me again. God, this stalker pisses me off. When he leans over, he's so close that I can see the gray outline of his face. His whisper's deadly. Dangerous. "You don't deserve to be Lucas's friend. You're a worse copy of the same fool."
"And you're just a blue-balled bully," I mimic, shoving his face away. "Geez, I knew that my subconscious was a prick, but this is really pushing it."
The dark silhouette raises the baseball, then examines my face like a carving block. "Which do you prefer, curve ball or straight ball? Oh, right." The corner of his lips curl up in a mocking smile. "Curve ball, it is."
"What do you want from me?!"
"Who said that I wanted anything from you?" he sniffs, turning up his nose in thinly-veiled disgust. Arrogant git. "I'm searching for Lucas."
A chill trickles down my spine. This madman is after Lucas?
I ball my fists. "You lay one finger on him, and I'll make sure you'll regret it-"
"That's a pretty speech, shortfry." His mismatched eyes burn with hate. "Now get lost. You're in the way."
The baseball smashes into my skull.
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~oO0Oo~
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My eyelids shoot open. Shaking off whatever nightmare I had with a grunt, I uncurl my cramped arms and ready myself to roll out of bed-
Only I can't.
Someone else is blocking the way.
Completely clocked out, Lucas lies on his side with his arms outstretched and his fingers splayed. As I dumbly stare at him, his breathing tickles my face, and it takes me a solid minute to realize why.
Right. After all that drama last night, we fell asleep on my bed.
I study him, fascinated by how he always sleeps with his head under his arms. Like a bird tucking its head under its wings. Even if he doesn't say it, Lucas must be tired, considering that he stayed up the day before to deal with my dumbassery.
Then Lucas shivers, and I realize that I'm hogging the sheets. Quietly, I tuck the covers up to his chin. As I do, I frown, noticing how prominent the curve of his cheekbones are. Did I stress him out? Lucas never eats much whenever he's under pressure. As sad as it is, I'm not surprised. Lucas would've suffered a harder loss on his end if our friendship fell apart. Lucas takes time - months, years - to garner trust. I'm his only childhood friend. I'm the only person he can trust with anything. To lose that security, especially over such a stupid misunderstanding, would've irreparably damaged his trust.
Lucas always seems so strong that I keep forgetting how fragile he can be.
Huddling into the covers, Lucas shivers again. Hesitantly, I draw one arm around his shoulders and tug him closer. With a slow sigh, Lucas huddles in and presses the top of his head against my chest.
A hot feeling prickles across my cheeks. Oh shit, goddammit noooo. Like I need another reason for my hormones to go crazy!
I scrunch my eyes shut. No, I'm not in bed. I fell asleep on the sofa watching another Lord of the Rings rerun in the living room. The sofa is cold. And soft. And smells like chocolate shampoo. Anything. I'll take anything.
Anything to forget that antisocial dead-as-a-pan Lucas likes to cuddle people in his sleep.
Underneath my arm, Lucas shivers like a leaf. The scent of chocolate tickles my nose ten-fold, and when his empathy link tingles with a faint hint of helpless terror, I give up. Screw it, everyone deserves a good hug. I protectively wrap my arms around his shoulders and watch as - to my relief - Lucas relaxes.
I don't know if Lucas knows about his embarrassing habit of sleep-cuddling, but I've never found any reason to point it out to his face. I probably do plenty of embarrassing things in my sleep too. Like sleep-talk. Or drool. Eurgh.
But what I DO know is that Lucas has done it as a kid, and that cuddling him back chases away whatever nightmare he's under. It's happened so many times that by this point, comforting him is practically instinct. I swear there's some kind of code ingrained into my hard-drive designed to ward off anything that can potentially harm him, because wanting to keep Lucas safe is second nature.
...Which makes sense, considering our long history together. Whenever Lucas used to stop by my house after school, we played for long hours, running around in my backyard, flying kites, playing hide-and-seek. By the end of the day, my mom would often find us napping together, too tired and worn out to move. When we grew up and I had to leave Lucas behind for N64, the habit slowly died out. Two kids cuddling was cute. Two teens cuddling? Gay.
Speaking of gay... right. I came out of the closet. Sort of. It worked out better than I expected. Lucas is still my best friend. Nothing else has changed. I know that I should be grateful, but a part of me can't help it. Not when I want us to be more than friends.
I give a bitter laugh. I'm back in square one. Except that this time, Lucas knows about my feelings for him. It's a bit weird, thinking about it, but it only reinforces how few people Lucas has in his life. He's willing to accept me. Not like he's got any other alternative.
Get over it, I tell myself. Lucas sees me as a brother. It's the closest anyone else has gotten by far.
But it's not good enough.
I force down the lump in my throat. When Lucas first said that he wasn't ready for a relationship, it didn't bother me. That part had been easy. I was willing to wait, even if it took Lucas five years, ten years to accept me. He was worth it, worth so much as a friend and worth so much more beyond that. I've practically lived with him all my life - competing for the last slice of pizza, wiping the floor with MarioKart. I can't imagine anybody else who simply gets me like he does.
I love him too much.
A ray of early sunlight catches Lucas's hair. I want to stroke it, but I know better than to try. This isn't third grade. We aren't children anymore. Those days are over.
There's no point in pining after someone who will never return my feelings.
Quietly, I rummage around and pull out my clothes from the closet. I don't bother packing anything else - this is a temporary move out, not a permanent one. Snapping the latches shut, I pick up my suitcase.
This is it.
I turn around, viewing the room for what was probably going to be the last time in a long while. I don't want to leave. I'm actually fond of the cramped room with its memories, the trick wooden plank that tripped Lucas over all the time, the bathroom lights that I accidentally cracked with my yoyo last year.
Deep down though, I know that I have to accept the truth. I want time to get over Lucas's rejection, and more importantly, I want time to mend my broken pride. After last night, I don't think I had the courage to look him in the eye. When I've become comfortable with myself, when I was ready to be called a best friend again, that was the moment I'll return, asking if he'll accept me back into his life.
"I'll be back," I whisper, empty and numb.
Lucas is still sleeping. I envy his oblivious state.
Dropping my dorm keys onto my pillow, I take my leave.
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~oO0Oo~
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I go to the first place I think of. On the second knock, its disgruntled occupant answers the door.
"Hey, open up," I hiss.
"What the hell, Ness," Popo groans, rubbing his eyes. "It's like, five in the morning-" He spots my luggage, then stupidly says, "What's with the suitcase?"
"I want to stay with you for a bit. Just to avoid morning curfew."
"I dunno..."
"You owe me big time."
"Point taken, bro." With a yawn, Popo stretches out his arms across the door frame. "Why the rush? Did your date night go sour?"
"I'll see Master Hand later," I say desperately. "I just need a place to stay for tonight. Popo, please-"
"Sure, I gotchu. But you're lucky that the girls are having another sleepover at Jigglypuff's place. If Nana were here, then I couldn't have let you in." He takes a step back, watching me shoulder my way past the threshold before he closes the door behind me. "So man... how was it?"
"How was what?" I say irritably. I'm not in the mood for his stupid innuendos.
Sadly, Popo doesn't catch my drift. He sniggers, "Duh, your first time. Who topped?"
I throw him a flat look.
Popo's expression turns incredulous. "Wait dude, did Lucas actually reject you?"
"It's complicated," I mutter, shouldering past him.
"Wow. That's rough, buddy," Popo says, sinking into an ice-cube-shaped bean chair. For once, he looks genuinely sympathetic. "Well, he didn't have to kick you out-"
My throat turns dry. "He didn't kick me out. I left on my own."
"Ohhhh... wha?"
I rest my head into my hands. "I couldn't stand rooming with him. For now," I admit. "Knowing that I could never have him... it wasn't going to work out."
Worming his way to the fridge, Popo cracks open a bottle of Arctic Ice Water. It lets out a soft hiss when he icebends the shit out of it. Lucas isn't the only one with freaky ice powers here, but the familiar sight makes my stomach cramp. Lucas pulls the same trick whenever his icecream starts to melt. "Well, his loss," Popo says, wiggling another frozen bottle in my direction. "Water?"
I eye it suspiciously. "It isn't..."
"Not alcohol, dude," Popo promises, crossing his fingers. "Water, one-hundred percent."
Somewhat wary, I take the cold glass bottle. I risk a sip. True to his word, it's iced water. "Thanks."
Popo leans forward on his seat and laces his fingers together. "Yeah, soooo. There's something else I need to tell you. Nana knows you're gay."
I choke on my water. "What?!"
"It's just her. I didn't tell anyone else-"
"Popo, you said that you weren't going to tell anyone," I say, furiously slamming down the bottle of water. It drops off with a thunk and rolls off the table.
Popo raises his hands in surrender. "Chillax, I didn't say anything-" When I continue glaring at him, Popo amends, "Okay, it might've accidentally slipped. But Nana mostly figured out when Lucas stopped by. Nice to hear that you're finally out of the closet-"
My blood turns to ice. "Popo," I say slowly. "I never came out."
"What do you mean, 'you never came out'? You told Lucas-"
"Yeah, only because he figured it out. I wasn't ready to come out in public!"
Finally, it hits Popo. "Ohhh... Fuck."
Ohhh fuck pretty much sums up the situation, all right.
"Well... Don't freak out yet. Maybe Nana didn't tell anyone else at the sleepover," Popo says, sounding less and less convinced with each passing word. "I mean, it's not like Jigglypuff posts everything on twitter-"
Breathing in panic, I grip my temples. "My life is over," I say hoarsely. "Popo, what have you done?"
"Dude, chilla-"
"What have you done?" Freaked out beyond my wits, I grab him by the shoulders. "Popo, by tomorrow morning, everyone's going to know. The media's going to know!"
"I didn't-"
"Fuck you!" To my horror, I begin to cry. I haven't told my mom that I'm gay. I haven't even told my little sister that I'm gay, and now, it's about to be broadcast to the entire nation.
I'm about to become the laughingstock of Smash Mansion.
My pride's finally sunken to a new all-time low. I shove Popo's hand off and haul my suitcase to the door.
"Hey! Dude, snap out of it!" Popo holds me back by the shoulder. Up close, I see that his forehead is dotted with sweat. "Have you fucking lost it? You'll get caught after curfew-"
Like Popo's ever cared about that before.
The warning strike whizzes over his head. Popo lets go, falling onto his rear with a yelp as I snap the yo-yo back into my palm. "Back off," I grit. I can't think. I've reached the point past all caring, because I'm angry, I'm so, so angry that I'm shaking. Popo's lucky. He's lucky that we're not on stage, because I may want to smash his last stock to bits with my baseball bat and watch him scream like a fucking girl as he flies off the stage. And laugh.
But we're not on stage.
So instead, I say in a low voice, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't clobber you with my bat." I know that my eyes are flaring up like a 4th of July freakshow - like they do whenever I'm an emotional wreck - because Popo looks ready to shit himself. His dilating pupils reflect off the same unearthly purple sheen of my own eyes, just as if the FBI's shining a colored flashlight into his face during a hardcore interrogation. I hate the unnatural color of my eyes, but I can't say that I'm not pleased with how they intimidate him right now.
Popo gulps. "Dude, don't get me wrong. I'm a lot of things, but Master Hand's out patrolling the halls tonight in person-"
I turn around and snap my fingers. The bolt jerks out of its lock-
A sharp pain explodes in the back of my head.
I black out.
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~oO0Oo~
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Two arguing voices echo into my ears.
"Why did you knock him out?!"
"Dude, I didn't have a choice! He was gonna get in trouble for breaking curfew, and then this happened, so I grabbed you-"
"That doesn't give you an excuse to swing a hammer into his head!"
"I panicked, okay man? Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I screwed up-"
I stir, letting out a groan.
"He's awake!"
"Ness." A cool finger brushes against my forehead. "Ness, can you hear me."
I struggle to open my eyes, but my arms are too heavy, and the throbbing pain in my head won't fucking leave-
Someone wraps their arms around my chest. I'm lifted up into the air.
"I'll take him down to the hospital ward. Go get Dr. Mario."
"R-Right!"
My limbs weaken. All the energy drains out of my body.
I black out again.
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~oO0Oo~
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I wake up in the hospital ward.
An angry pain throbs through my head like a gong. Or like a nest of killer hornets. Someone else shifts beside me, and with a grimace, I roll my head over-
My breath catches in my throat. Lucas watches me from the side, his eyes heavy and tired. His shoulders are slumped; his breathing, slow and sluggish. He can't catch a break, can he?
Trying to lift the heavy mood, I crack a weak grin. "Here we go again."
Lucas doesn't smile back. He sets a full glass of water on my bedside table. "How do you feel."
I try to sit up, but stop halfway when my head starts screaming death metal. "I feel like the Ultimate Chimaera chewed me to pieces," I groan.
"You can thank this moron for that," Nana snaps, popping up beside me. Her sudden presence startles me, and glancing around, I see that Red, Toon Link, and a very guilty-looking Popo are there, gathered around my bed. What's going on? "I can't believe you, Popo. The moment I leave a second time for my sleepover, you wreck Ness over-"
"Dude, I'm so glad you're alive," Popo wails, almost throwing himself onto me. "If you still want to clobber me, I know, I totes deserve it-"
"Oof! Popo, g-get off-"
"You were going to break curfew, and I had to stop you from getting into trouble-"
"-so you bashed his head in with your hammer," Nana snarls.
With another wail, Popo drops himself onto my bed and begins to flail around. "Ness, bro, it was an accident! I was like totally panicking when you wouldn't wake up and dude, dude-"
"It's okay, Popo," I say tiredly. The memories of last night slowly trickle back, and okay, I admit that I'm still mad at Popo, even if he didn't mean to clobber me. But I can't dwell on it forever. Not out of the kindness of my heart, but because something else has caught my attention.
Something else more important.
"Guys," I whisper, my voice dry and cracked. "What happened?"
It's like my words are a fucking spell. Nana stops hollering up a storm. Popo goes as still as an ice statue. A sudden hush has crawled into the air, a horrible, morbid silence as if someone has just died.
Then Toon Link nervously steps forward. "N-Ness, it's... I wanted to say that whatever happens, I don't mind... well, we don't mind that, um, ah..."
A cold realization seeps into my skin. Lucas has yet to say anything either, so I turn over to look at him. "Lucas. Hey." I gently curl my fingers around his forearm. Lucas bites his lip, then averts his eyes. Worried, I squeeze his arm. "Hey, buddy, answer me. What's wrong?"
Lucas shakes his head, then to my surprise, grips my hand in both of his. A comforting gesture. "I'm sorry," he chokes out.
On any other day this moment would've sent me flying to Cloud Nine.
But right now, Lucas's behavior scares me out of my wits.
To my surprise, it's Red who finally breaks the silence. He leans over to grip my shoulder. It's a tight grip, nothing like Lucas's gentle touch, but it's firm enough for reassurance. Startled, I look up into his dark expression.
"They know."