Aster is losing his fucking mind. He’s actually starting to feel oddly fond of the bouncy little freak of a werewolf that is his new gaming friend. Okay, ‘friend’ is a bit of a stretch. They barely talk, mostly because Aster stonewalls Stardash whenever they try.

Friends aren't Aster's thing, so the only way this is going to work is if he keeps things distant and impersonal. That probably isn’t going to work either, because it makes him a phenomenally uninteresting gaming partner, but it’s been a couple of weeks and they still play together most nights. Aster figures the first time Stardash chats with another player and realises Aster isn't the best they can do—maybe discovers guilds are a thing and they could have a whole crew of easy, talkative friends—their little arrangement will be over.

For now, though, it's... something. A distraction, if nothing else.

But tonight, it's not doing much to distract Aster from the music thumping through the walls, rattling his bed frame. He puts up with a lot of bullshit in this place. Really, he does. He fights his battles hard, but he tries to pick them carefully. In a place like this, there’s always something. Normally he’d count a night where noise is the only annoyance as a good one, but the music is grating on him. It’s just so intentional. It’s something completely inconsiderate that someone’s doing just to be obnoxious, and Aster doubts he's the only one not enjoying the impromptu midnight rave hour.

With a frustrated sigh, Aster grants Stardash the grand honour of actually communicating for once, firing off a quick brb before stomping out to find the source of his auditory torment. He's in just his boxers, but whatever. This is his home. If someone's gonna disrupt his night, they get what they get.

Aster pounds on the door next to his, the pulsing beat nearly drowning out his knocking. The music doesn't let up as the door swings open. A girl who looks maybe even younger than Aster stands there, having the nerve to look annoyed at the interruption. Without a word, Aster shoulders past her, making a beeline for the boombox blaring against the far wall.

"Hey!" she shouts as Aster yanks the cord from the wall, like he’s the asshole. 

Two other girls about the same age sit wide-eyed on the bed. Aster’s in his underwear, but he doesn’t really care what they think. His sexuality's been thoroughly tested, and he's definitely gay, so their scandalised looks are wasted on him.

Aster swings the cord in a slow circle before pointing it at the girl who answered the door. "Plug this back in, and I'll come strangle you with it."

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that!” one of the girls on the bed pipes up.

Aster wants to roll his eyes, but he's too damn tired. "I'd love to never speak to her again. Let's make that happen."

"Fuck off!" the bed-girl shouts. Aster shrugs and does just that. He’s made his point.

Apparently she isn’t done with him, though, because she storms after him into his room. Aster quirks an eyebrow, picking up his laptop where Stardash's character bounces impatiently on screen. "What?"

From her flushed face, it's clear she didn't think past the barging in part. Just pure rage. Relatable, really.

“You can’t just come into our room and touch our stuff and talk to my girlfriend like that!” she yells, fists clenched.

Ah, so that’s why she’s so pissed.

“Noted,” Aster says flatly. “Keep your fucking music down and I won’t have to.”

She scoffs. “Fuck you. We’re going to turn it up even louder.”

Aster rises from his bed, laptop still cradled in his arms, and lets malice seep out of him. Her eyes widen as he takes a step forward. For a moment, he thinks he’s set enough fear into her bones that they’ll keep the noise down and they can be done with this, but then her hands rise, dark energy shimmering between them, and he knows he fucked up.

Aster reaches for the magic etched into his skin, the quickest, most controlled form of magic he has, but he hesitates. Those runes were drawn with life-or-death situations in mind, spells meant for killing and maiming. Is that really what he wants to unleash on a scared teenager?

Before he can conjure something less lethal, darkness swoops forth. It blots out his vision, swallowing him whole. His stomach lurches violently, like he's in an elevator shooting upwards at impossible speed.

When Aster's knees hit the ground, he somehow manages to keep his laptop clutched to his chest. Sharp twigs and rocks dig into his bare skin. He's outside.

"Fuck," Aster hisses, his breath clouding in the frigid night air. Dark, looming shadows of trees surround him.

Eyes squeezed shut, Aster tries to summon a protective shield against the biting cold, but that isn’t happening. Not with his magic churning beneath his skin, ready for nothing but violence.

She teleported him. That much is clear. He has no idea where, but she can't have sent him too far. He glances at the screen of his laptop, but of course he lost connection when he was separated from the wi-fi. He snaps his laptop shut and tucks it under his arm.

If he wasn't nearly naked, this would just be an inconvenience. A long, annoying walk back to the boarding house. But in nothing but his boxers? This is dangerous. Maybe if he could get his fucking magic to behave, he could figure out something to keep himself warm and avoid notice, but he isn’t sure that’s happening any time soon. If he needs to murder anyone, though, he can definitely manage that.

A flicker of light through the trees catches Aster's eye. He heads toward it, wincing as twigs and rocks bite into his bare feet. Branches scratch at his arms, but he pushes on. Not being lost in the woods is a great first step.

The light grows brighter, eventually revealing itself as a streetlamp illuminating a main road. It's quiet this late, but Aster still hugs the shadows as he walks.

He weighs his options. Hitchhiking? He's not exactly defenceless, but who'd pick up a half-naked guy covered in weird tattoos? He practically screams 'trouble'.

If he just knew where the hell he was, he could figure out if walking home is even feasible, and if so, which way to go. If he could calm the fuck down, there are ways to solve a lot of his problems with magic, but he knows he can’t rely on that.

Brighter lights appear ahead, spurring Aster onward despite his raw, aching feet. If he could find a neighbourhood, maybe he'd luck out—snag some shoes from a porch, swipe clothes off a line.

He needs to figure something out fast. His teeth chatter violently, jaw aching from the cold. What a fucking humbling experience. He can strut around like a peacock, oozing power all he likes, but there’s a reason he is where he is in life. His magic might be versatile in theory, but it's wildly unpredictable and his own volatile nature doesn't help.

The lights materialise into a parking lot surrounding a squat building. A neon sign declares it's a diner offering burgers and coffee.

Aster considers going inside to call a taxi like a normal person would. But he's far from normal, and that would be glaringly obvious to anyone who laid eyes on him. What taxi driver would agree to pick up a penniless, nearly naked guy covered in strange tattoos? Even if one did, Aster's not sure he has enough cash back at the boarding house to cover the fare.

As Aster draws closer to the diner, smaller text on the sign catches his eye: Free wi-fi. A spark of hope ignites. He's still got his laptop—if he can pull up a map, he'll at least know where the hell he is. Skirting the harshly lit parking lot, he circles around back, wedging himself between a dumpster and the building's wall.

The game is still open, now disconnected on the login screen. He tabs out and opens the wi-fi options. There it is—'burgers'. He lets out a relieved breath when he sees it's unsecured. Makes sense—you don’t have to worry about passwords when the only people close enough to tap into your wi-fi are your own customers.

Once connected, Aster quickly looks up the diner's name. He's still in Claysey, thank fuck, but a solid five-hour walk from the boarding house. And that estimate probably doesn't account for lack of shoes, potential hypothermia, or the bone-deep exhaustion that's already setting in.

He could detour into a neighbourhood, try to snag some clothes—it'd add maybe thirty minutes, but if he's actually going to attempt this walk, it's non-negotiable. But factoring in the detour, his current state... Fuck. There's got to be another way.

Aster switches back to the game screen, intending to close it so that it won’t run his battery down and leave him without a map, but then he stops and considers. Stardash lives in Claysey. It's the longest of long shots, and win or lose, it'll probably cost him his gaming buddy. But at this point? Fuck it. He's got to try.