Nash

Nash sits in his room at two in the morning, finally launching the game he downloaded weeks ago during another sleepless night. He’s just passing time while he waits for the adrenaline in his system to fade and his chest to stop stinging quite so bad so that he can get some sleep.

The fight earlier left him battered and bloody. He had slapped on a clean shirt and told Niko that most of the blood belonged to the other guy, which was the opposite of the truth. Some of the blood was the other guy’s, but most of it was his. It doesn't really matter though; his body will mend itself. Things will just be uncomfortable and messy until then. Niko fussing over him won’t help with that.

He appreciates it, though. That Niko cares about him. It just feels a little silly to hire someone to be your muscle and then look so frustrated and guilty whenever he ends up actually having to fight. They’re around the same age, but the way Niko looks at him always makes him feel younger.

Anyway, what will help is a distraction, and that’s the point of this game. Mythic Frontiers. He played a lot of MMORPGs as a kid once he figured out how to get his hands on a laptop and find free Wi-Fi. Back then, he liked them because they were free and he was desperately lonely, but now what he wants from this game is the edge of simple monotony he remembers from them. The kind of distraction that doesn’t require you to think. This game, he quickly discovers, delivers just that.

Kill ten bunnies for their lucky rabbit feet, the tutorial quest demands. Kill rabbits and take only a single foot from each, leaving the rest of their bodies to rot on the ground? Sure, why not. In the world of MMORPGs, there’s no need to justify such wanton killing and waste. Kill precisely ten rabbits, and if you try to kill more, fuck you. There are no more feet to harvest, just a sliver of XP to collect. 

Oh, and slightly better boots, of course. Nash squints at the new item in his inventory. Where did those come from? Was the rabbit wearing them? Did it shit them out when it died? In the world of MMORPGs, there is no need for an explanation.

Nash smiles to himself as he switches out his shoes, revelling in the rush of nostalgia. He can already feel himself starting to relax.

#

Aster

Aster gnaws on the inside of his cheek, his eyes fixed on the tutorial quest pinned at the top right of his screen: collect ten lucky rabbit’s feet. The rabbits are right in front of him. Aster sits on his bed, hunched over his laptop, dressed in nothing but his thin cotton boxer shorts, and does his best to force himself to focus on the simple task in front of him.

His fingers drift to the piercing in his ear—a single, bitter ruby stud. Tonight, it throbs with a dull ache. It’s the most expensive thing he owns, but it's the emotional energy that clings to it that gives it power. None of the jewels he wears were bought new; some gifts, others stolen, a few bought second-hand.

Shouting from down the hall competes for his focus, but that’s what he’s trying to distract himself from tonight. There’s always something in this place. It took him nearly a week to get this game downloaded with their crappy, shared wifi, but the need for a distraction never wanes for long.

Tonight is particularly bad, though. Someone dragged in this girl who’s deep in withdrawal from Quell, and her sobs and screaming are hard to ignore. Aster should sympathize—he knows that hell intimately—but all he wants is for her to shut the fuck up, to stop making him remember. He doesn't expect sympathy from others, so it’s only fair that he offers none in return.

Quell is more of a curse than a drug. Threaded with magic, it’s a kind of devil’s bargain, a bet you make against yourself. You can have all the calm and inner peace you want at what seems like no price, but the moment you try to quit, you’ll pay that emotional debt with interest. You’ll have to feel everything you used that shit to suppress.Aster's own withdrawal had nearly killed him.

The start of that was almost two years ago now. He isn’t sure if or when he finished that process. His own natural mind is so chaotic that it’s hard to tell. Sometimes he wonders if he'd ever have quit if some primal part of him hadn't clawed its way to the surface, driving him to overdose.

Aster's memories are a patchwork quilt, full of holes and frayed edges. From age fifteen when he first started taking Quell, through the two years he was on it, and even most of the time since—it's all a blur. The night that brought everything crashing down is the haziest of all, thanks to the ruby stud in his ear. Even now, there are some things he's not ready to face.

There's a unique, jagged edge to betrayal when it comes wrapped in love. An act of careless selfishness rather than true malice or indifference. Thoma had no idea of the weight behind Aster's gentle, easily yielded resistance. He was only seventeen. He didn't know about the Quell.

It still doesn’t feel fair to call it anything other than a misunderstanding, but another word lingers in the back of his mind. It doesn't feel fair to use that word. Not when Aster himself had chosen to bury his feelings so deep they were almost imperceptible.

Yet the burn in his chest remains, reignited by the screams of pure emotional agony echoing down the hall. Collect ten lucky rabbit’s feet. Collect ten lucky rabbit’s feet. He repeats the quest objective like a mantra, desperate for something—anything—to focus on.

This place is going to drive him mad one of these days. He’s sure of that much. He’s too much power wrapped in too thin a skin to deal with other people’s bullshit day in and day out. But what choice does he have? Without Quell, he's far too chaotic and inconsistent to live a normal life or hold down a regular job. His parents know this too, and their solution would be to drug him back into compliance. He can't let that happen. For better or worse, he's done being a prisoner in his own mind.

But his mental state walks too much of a knife edge for a place like this. He’s sure that one day, he’s just going to snap and commit actual murder. It’s hard enough to keep himself from marching down the hall and doing something to that poor girl who’s going through a kind of hell he should understand better than anyone. All he feels in the place of that emotion is a kind of dull shame. Instead of empathy, all he feels is a dull, pervasive shame.

Aster grits his teeth and forces his eyes back to the screen. The rabbits hop obliviously, waiting to be hunted. He knows it's a flimsy distraction, but right now, it's all that's keeping him from falling apart.

#

Nash

Tonight has been quiet. No work. Nash returns from his run, boots up Mythic Frontiers, and settles in for some gaming. Without the need to bore himself to sleep, he's feeling adventurous, pushing into zones beyond his character's level. Why do they have some vendetta against the bats in this cave? Why are they at war with so much of the local wildlife? Nash doesn't know, but right now, the bats are thoroughly kicking his ass.

Another player a few levels above him starts hanging around after a while, helping him fight and resurrecting his sorry ass whenever he goes down. He hadn’t really been planning on making friends, but he sends him a party request. He accepts.

Hi! Nash types in the party chat. The user, Silence_thenite, responds by jumping twice before wandering off to fight another bat. Not much of a talker, then. Nash can appreciate that.

He's starting to regret his own username, Moonlight_Stardash. It’s meant to be ironic, dammit, but anyone who isn’t aware that he’s an actual werewolf playing a werewolf character in a video game might not clock that.

It’s a little silly how wrong this game gets werewolves, along with every damn other thing to do with the supernatural. It isn’t like most of this shit is hard to research. The decision to make werewolf characters transform into weird, bipedal wolf monsters instead of actual wolves was clearly a deliberate choice. He could see some people finding it offensive, but Nash just thinks it’s hilarious. 

His new friend trades him some leather armour he looted, because apparently that’s what werewolves wear in this game. Nash returns the favour with some cloth armour he picked up earlier. Silence is playing some sort of magic user. Mostly it seems to involve throwing a lot of fireballs and other coloured light. Maybe he’ll ask Niko what he thinks of that, but he can’t imagine him caring much either. There are worse stereotypes they could be painted with. At least they’re protagonists in this game, beyond the wanton slaughter of the local wildlife.

Nash levels up, puts on some better armour, and finally he’s sort of carrying his own weight in their little party of two. They delve deeper into the bat cave, complete their quest, and open a chest together. Nash is rewarded with a helmet, which he puts on, because clearly that’s just what you need when you’re constantly shifting between forms during combat.

His new friend still hasn’t said a single word to him, but Nash sends him a friend request before he finishes up for the night anyway. He accepts, jumps twice, and then signs off. 

Nash feels a smile curve his lips. Okay then.