Elliott turned to look over their shoulder at the group which had gathered at the back of the bar, and which had since erupted into a mass of flailing limbs, all seemingly intent on injuring each other. What followed happened very quickly and in a blur, as is often the case with fights. 

Glass was shattered. Barstools were knocked over. Somebody’s nose was broken, and an alarming amount of blood was dripped across the floor. A pool cue was applied to somebody else’s skull, and it was at this point that some of the regulars got involved, attempting to break up the fight, and subsequently becoming embroiled in it. 

“We should go,” said Puck, standing up from the table.

“I have to pay the tab,” Elliott pointed out as they left the booth. 

“Leave your card, you can get it tomorrow,” Puck urged.

“But--” Elliott’s argument was cut short as a pint glass went soaring past their face, much too close for comfort. Puck glared in the direction it had come from. 

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at?” a belligerent voice bellowed from the general direction of the ruckus. 

Elliott looked over their shoulder to see a burly, bearded man who appeared to have locked eyes with Puck. He took a few menacing steps towards them before his pants fell down around his ankles. He tripped over them, falling face first onto the floor, which had recently been sprinkled with broken glass. 

“Come on!” Puck barked, dragging Elliott by the arm. Elliott was too bewildered by the sequence of events they’d just witnessed to do anything but go along with him. 

Once outside, they hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner in tense silence. As soon as they were out of sight of the bar, though, Puck began to laugh. 

“Holy shit,” Elliott gasped. “I thought we were gonna have to fight that guy!”

“Not a chance.”

“Was that you, then? With the pants?”

Puck simply giggled by way of reply. 

“You defended me,” Elliott teased. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Naturally. Can’t lose my only worshipper, or I’m doomed.”

“I do not worship you!” They both fell to uncontrollable laughter at that. Puck was doubled over, holding his sides when they heard sirens, the sound getting louder as it headed their way. 

“Come on, we gotta scram!” he yelped, and the two took off running, zigging and zagging through the streets. 

After a half mile or so, Elliott called out to Puck. “Hey, we’re going the wrong direction!”

“We gotta keep the man on his toes!” Puck shouted with glee.

“I think we’ve lost them!” Elliott gasped. “Anyway, I’m tired and need to pee. Let’s go back to my place.”

Puck seemed to hesitate, but didn’t say anything.

“What? Is my apartment really that bad?”

“Not at all. Let’s go.” 

The two turned in the direction of Elliott’s building and began walking. They continued their conversation along the way, but Elliott couldn’t help noticing that the sense of wild abandon which had previously gripped them seemed to have worn off. It could have been that the exercise had taken care of the excess energy, but by the time they arrived at the apartment, the mood was decidedly more subdued. 

Once inside, Elliott went to the kitchen and began rummaging around. “Are you hungry?” they asked Puck, who was lurking in the doorway. 

“I don’t get hungry,” he reminded them. 

“Right. Let me rephrase that. Do you like to snack when you’ve been drinking?”

“Oh… alright, you’ve got a point,” Puck admitted, looking slightly surprised. 

“I’ve got some popcorn,” Elliott muttered, scanning the cupboard for something more appealing, which failed to materialize.

“Popcorn is good,” said Puck.

Elliott unwrapped the popcorn from its outer layer of plastic and unfolded the inner paper bag. This they placed in the microwave, which they set for four minutes. 

“You wanna watch something?” they asked.

“If you want.”

Elliott led the way to the sofa and turned on the TV.  They had just begun to browse Netflix when the lights flickered and went out, taking the rest of the power with them. 

“Oh,” said Elliott.

“Sorry,” Puck answered with a sheepish look. 

Elliott laughed. “Your doing?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, no worries. I just won’t be able to offer you any popcorn.”

“That’s fine. What about you? Aren’t you hungry?”

“I had dinner before we met up. I just felt like snacking.”

“Oh.”

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Elliott let their mind drift, thinking back over everything they’d learned about Puck since the revelation that he was a god. Eventually a question floated to the surface of their thoughts -- one which they probably should have asked sooner, they realized with a twinge of shame.

“Puck,” they asked, “what would happen if I couldn’t make offerings to you?”

“Well,” Puck said, looking a touch embarrassed, “as long as you believed in me, I’d be fine for a while.”

“But then what? I’m a mortal,” Elliott reminded him.

“Right. So if you were to die, or just stop believing, I’d return to my elemental state.”

Elliott sat up from their slouch with a frown. “Explain,” they said.

“The forces of chaos always exist, but without believers I have no form or consciousness. I kind of just drift without awareness until the next person invokes me.”

“Oh. That seems so sad.”

“Well the nice thing about having no consciousness is you don’t have to feel anything.” 

“I guess that’s true,” Elliott agreed, though something about this arrangement struck them as unfair. 

“Really though, it’s usually not long before I get invoked again. The requirements are broad enough that it can happen purely by accident, as you’ve experienced.”

“Right.” This was little comfort to Elliott, but they decided not to press the subject. After all, Puck didn’t seem to mind. Instead, they steered the conversation in a lighter direction. “How would you feel about having a phone, Puck?” 

“What for?”

“So that we can call each other,” Elliott explained, laughing. “It would also give you access to the internet and everything that entails. New music.” At this Puck’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh. Yeah, that could be cool.” 

“Great. I’ll get that taken care of.” 

The two sat in the dark talking for hours, until Elliott began to feel sleepy. When they looked at their phone they were surprised to find it was past 3 AM. 

“I think not having a job is starting to mess with my sense of time,” they admitted. 

“Is that so bad?”

“No, actually, it’s kind of nice. I think I’m going to go to bed, though. You’re welcome to stay.”

“Thanks,” was all Puck said, but he made no move to leave. 

“You’re going to be gone when I wake up, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” he admitted. 

“Why is that?”

“It’s best if you don’t spend too much time around me. Chaotic buildup,” he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“I see.”

“You should sleep, though.”

“Yeah, alright.” Elliott complied, getting up from the sofa and immediately getting into bed, without bothering to change out of their clothes. They were asleep within minutes, knowing that in the morning they would wake up alone.

No Illustration for this chapter, but I participated in a Tapas community "OC Dogpile" collab this week, which entailed drawing my first ever chibi style character!