The word was soft and yet, his body had no control over itself to resist. Heart obeyed before thought could catch up to his bodies movements. His chest tightened, but his legs moved, stumbling forward, until those delicate long tan fingers were intertwining with his. He blinked down at their hands locked together. It was the only second he got to breathe before he was pulled into the maze of Bangkok’s back streets.

They plunged deeper into the backstreets. Motorbikes lined the walls with their mirrors jutting like insect eyes on either side, reflecting shards of neon from a street they had already left behind. While a stray cat slinked across the narrow walkway, its eyes catching light, glowing before it looked down and disappeared into a pile of broken crates. Poor unfortunate clothes that hadn’t made it inside before the rain felt hung above on crooked lines, twisting in the night wind like dark flags that snapped and sank, dripping heavy with water that splattered cold against Heart’s skin.

The pavement was slick, uneven, patched with old repairs that made his steps stumble. Tangled wires drooped low, buzzing faintly, their shadows stretching like black veins across the walls. Lanterns and signs flickered, their colored lights casting the alleys in red, then blue, then darkness again, as though the city could not decide which face to wear. Heart’s shoes smacked wet against the ground, each step heavier, clumsier, while his lungs clawed for air. The smells of frying oil and charcoal smoke drifted from a closed food stall they passed, rich and heavy, mixing with the damp metallic tang that rose from the concrete after the rain. It was everything he was familiar with.

But everything felt wrong, warped, darkness where there was normally neon, neon where darkness usually crept. Something sticky was following them just on the edges of their heels, and it was eating away at the city he knew and loved until it was like the whole city had been gutted and replaced with its own echo.

This is wrong. I need to let go.

The stranger’s grip was iron, dragging him through one alley after the next, his wrist screaming in protest. Heart yanked backwards against the dragging, panic finally curdling his stomach and snapping him out of the daze that had turned him into a doll the man could yank around at will.

The man turned, eyes flashing, and for one awful second Heart was certain he was being hauled straight to his death. Moments ago, he seemed steady, almost safe, the only safety in a world familiar to him, but now the shadows closed in until the thought of even breathing too loud felt dangerous.

And still. He wanted him to let go. He didn’t want to be touching him anymore.

There was this rotating feeling of touching something preciously delicate and rare, and the need to let it go lest he taint it.

The man shoved him against a wall like he weighed nothing.

“Heart! If you would just cooperate for half a second and let someone save you, that would be great, thanks.”

Heart whimpered, though terror chewed him raw.

Save me? From what? From you?

He twisted, tearing at his wrist to get free until red welts flared across his skin.

“Stop it. Now.”

The words weren’t shouted, yet they detonated in his chest. His ears rang, his breath caught, his legs nearly buckled. What is happening to me? Who is this man? What is tonight?

Panic surged. Heart shoved back at him twice as hard as before, desperate to get free, but his body collided with the stranger’s instead as force of momentum pulled them both away from the wall and down. They both crashed to the ground.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for his bones to hit concrete, but landed on something warm, something soft.

When he opened his eyes, he was staring into silver-blue irises flecked with shadow. His cheek had landed squarely against the other man’s face.

“You dare…” He started saying then stopped and his eyes looked past Heart, surprise causing his features to relax and the anger to dissipate out of it immediately.

Heart turned and looked, everywhere were thin, long red threads drifting down around them, pulsing faintly as they settled against the wet pavement. and all over their bodies,

What the hell is that? Where is it coming from?

Heart sat up, and held up an arm that was now draped in foot after foot of thread.

The man’s eyes shifted from startled back to stormy again in an instant. He shoved Heart off with a growl so low it shook through the ground and up Heart’s spine, a sound that he knew would live in his bones long after it passed.

Heart scrambled back, mortified. “Ah, uh… sorry, I didn’t mean to… that…touch your—” He flailed, pointing from his lips to the man’s cheek, then to his own cheek, then bit down on both before he made it worse.

The man trembled with fury, fists clenched, chest heaving. Then, in a voice so loud it cracked the night, he bellowed, “What the hell did you do to my balls!”

Heart gawked at him, face burning. “Dude, calm down. I didn’t touch your balls at all!” He was ninety-nine percent sure he hadn’t even landed anywhere near there.

The guy gave him a glare that made him feel as if he was having his skin peeled from him slowly.

“Not those balls.” He snapped, glaring at Heart with a resounding sense of hostility. His overall composure bristled and unfriendly. The person he was in the alleyway before completely faded away as if it had been a ruse.

“Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.” He said.

“Tchhh. Probably can’t even see… Ugh,”

The man’s glare burned into him, sharp enough to make Heart’s throat lock. His skin prickled under the weight of it, like layers were being peeled away, one by one.

Then he muttered, low and cutting, “Careless. Irresponsible. Infuriating…” His eyes darted to the ground, at the coils of red thread scattered everywhere. He crouched to snatch one up, only for it to slide out of his reach, curling like it had a mind of its own.

Heart swallowed hard. He’s angry because of me. Because when I crashed into him… this happened? He had no idea where the threads had come from, or why they glowed faintly against the dark pavement, but the stranger looked wrecked over them.

“I… I’m sorry,” Heart blurted, his voice cracking. He dropped to his knees and reached for a strand before he could think twice.

The man froze, eyes widening as Heart pinched the thread between his fingers. “You can…” His words died in his throat, replaced by a calculating silence.

Heart focused on the mess in front of him. The threads were knotted, tangled around themselves, twisted in impossible loops. He tried tugging one apart and nearly snarled in frustration before catching himself. No, slow down. One at a time. I can fix this.

He hunted until he found an end. Carefully, he began rolling it into a ball, working each knot loose as he went. His fingers burned from the effort, but he didn’t stop until one ball sat neatly in his hand.

Heart looked up, hesitant. “Uh… here. Maybe hold your arms like this.” He cradled his own arms, mimicking a basket. After a long pause, the man mirrored him, stiff and awkward. Heart placed the thread-ball into his waiting arms. The man blinked at him, then—shockingly—smirked, amusement dancing in those golden eyes, before his face shuttered closed again.

Heart flushed, ducked his head, and went back to the ground.

One end, then another, then another.

By the second ball, his knees ached against the concrete. By the third, his palms stung, raw from scraping against the grit. By the fourth, sweat slicked his temples and clung to his shirt. By the fifth, his whole body throbbed with exhaustion. Still, he didn’t stop until the last ball was wound tight and set gently in the man’s arms.

“There,” he said softly, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “All cleaned up.”

The man stared at him with something unreadable, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Few people clean the messes they scatter in the lives of others.”

Heart blinked, startled by the weight of the words. “Well… if you make a mess, you fix it. Everyone’s carrying something heavy enough already, at least that’s how I was raised.”

The man’s gaze sharpened, cutting straight through him. For an instant it felt less like he was being looked at and more like he was being measured, weighed.

Heart shifted uncomfortably, dragging the toe of his shoe across the ground. His chest burned under the weight of it.

Why does his gaze sting in my chest?

His voice was soft when it broke the silence all the anger dissipated out of it. “You did the right thing tonight.”

Heart shrugged, embarrassed and confused. “It was nothing.”

“Not nothing.” His tone deepened, and his eyes glistened, the sheen of gold almost glowing in that same eerie way the strings had, the ones in his hands brightened too. Odd.

“Your life is about to change, in ways you cannot imagine. Some good, some strange. But change, all the same.”

Heart’s heart gave an uneasy thump. “Um… thanks? I think?”

The man smiled faintly, for real this time and Heart thought his whole system was going to implode from the weight of that joy.

It was the radiance of purity. Something so dazzling it hurt.

If this man loves, to be loved by someone like this, it would be painful. He knew it in his heart. That this beautiful, impossible man that felt like more than a man his love came with a burden that even strings attached would be putting it too simply.

“Thank you.” He said again, this time meaning it. Though he didn’t know why he had suddenly felt the need to do so.

“Interesting. Who would have thought our threads would cross?” He stepped back, still holding the five scarlet balls. “Be well, kid.”

And then he turned and walked into the shadow of the alley. Heart waited for him to come out the other side, but he never did. He was gone, vanishing into the dark like the night had swallowed him whole.

Heart stood frozen, staring after that shadow. His arms hung heavy at his sides, his thoughts scattered.

He dragged me through half the damn city, dumped me in the middle of nowhere, then left me like… like. What the heck just happened?

He groaned and pulled out his phone, wincing at the time. He finally looked up and really looked to get his bearings.

He was at least fifteen blocks from home maybe twenty.

“Great. It’ll take an hour to walk home.”

He sighed. He was fairly certain that this was something he would likely never understand. His shoulders sagged, and he started towards a more well-lit road in the distance.

Maybe I can still catch a cab out on one of the main streets?