【 god-ish 】

PavellumPendulum

oh, to be seen as the poet, not just the muse
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Romance, modern, comedy, post-apocalyptic, slice of life.
It was following him into adulthood.

Basilio Bulalacao had been an easily disturbed child. A crybaby, a silly little thing whose eyes grew wet at the slightest conflict, a horrifying yowl leaving their lips the moment things grew even slightly uncomfortable. After all, his little paradise had cradled him so long that it'd taken years for him to actually learn of the world outside his bubble, how people were not meant to fawn over you every second of the day to make sure that all of your worldly needs and more were satisfied. In those times, the dreams and flashes of strange, unfamiliar sights had been oddities, gracing him perhaps once or twice a year at most. They'd see shining lights, smell scents they could not yet identify in their youth, hear voices that did not belong to their parents, nor their sisters. Those moments were frightening to the young child, but they never lasted long.

Now that Basilio was no longer a bubbly baby, finally a full grown adult (if a wispy, daydreaming free spirit like him could be considered one), those dreams came more often. They came when he was awake, bombarding him with visions of the sea, both at rest and during agitated storms. They came when he was asleep, showing him glimpses of people, incredibly beautiful people, calling to him, over and over again. They showed him fantasies, where he sat among the clouds, lovingly gazing upon those below him, they showed him starlit skies and ignited warmth in his chest, like a candle burning anew on passion alone. These daydreams were both welcomed and not. He felt conflicted at times, confused by their mysterious timing and growing frequency, though he'd never told anyone about them. Surely, people would dismiss it as his normal dreaminess, head in the clouds, miles away as his body moved in autopilot.

The dreams showed them sun-kissed skin. Clothes being peeled away. A thumb, brushing against his knuckles tenderly, hands locked together and fingers intertwined. It showed him too much, things that he knew had not happened, because of the intense fire that it set alight within him when he woke up, the gasping and the sweating, his body yearning for someone who was not there, someone who did not exist. His imagination was overactive, a child finding glee in poking his poor brain with a stick, watching him twitch and flail.

Basilio blinked, staring down at the penguin in his grasp, watching it wriggle easily out of his gloved hands. "Ay... Sorry, Rosie." He stood up, blinking in a faintly disoriented fashion once more, trying to remember what he'd been doing. Rosie squawked at him impatiently, waddling over to the door, wanting to be brought back into the habitat with her friends. Right. He'd got lost in his thoughts during a routine checkup. They sighed deeply, glad that their coworkers had not been there to giggle at them. Poor Rosie, she was probably confused about his sudden lack of action. Smoothing out his uniform, he opened up the door and followed Rosie to the penguin habitat, allowing her back in before closing the hatch. He watched her dive back into the water, likely glad that she was no longer being examined.

His phone told him that it was past closing, nearly 7 PM. Oh dear. There was no dinner waiting for him, back at the apartment. The fridge was empty (his fault, of course). As he changed out of his uniform and headed out for the evening, his mind was searching through all of his favourite restaurants, trying to figure out what he felt like ordering for takeout that evening. The little Chinese place across from their apartment complex? That family-owned Ethiopian restaurant a block away? Or perhaps even that fancy pasta restaurant they'd tried the week before, when they'd forgotten to pick up groceries again? As they exited the aquarium, the scent of salt greeted them, the sun making its descent into the ocean, ready to rest after another long day of illuminating the now blushing sky.

They adjusted their blouse. They fidgeted with the straps of their bag, with the cute little pins attached to it. They chewed on their lower lip, turning it white from the pressure, then red from the blood rushing back into the flesh.

They bumped into someone.

Classic, him not paying attention. "Oh, um, sorry. I'm not paying attention, I-" he started at first, before he froze, staring at the person in front of him. ... Leave it to him to bump into one of the most gorgeous people he'd ever seen in his life and watch his tongue turn into a piece of useless, flopping meat in a single second. "... Um, hi. Sorry again." His voice was a tad higher. He sounded like a mess. His cheeks felt like they were on fire, an intense feeling of both embarrassment and relief flooding his body. What on Earth was going on with him?

@Aslee
 
There was something about the way the sun burned that brought Finn peace. Not the warmth of a spring day, but fiercer-- When he had baked for hours already, when it was like an iron on his skin, sizzling and aching.

It was an odd thought, perhaps, but it was there all the same. There was something there Finn couldn't quite put his finger on, a presence in the rays that made him feel broader and stronger. Even better, it made his head empty, his fingers and toes go numb. That was the best, wasn't it? When he couldn't remember that he was alone because his body was all full up with sunshine, every cell surrounded by heat. The only thing that could possibly be better was when he his head started to spin with the quiet, and he had to pitch himself into the cold, open ocean.

That was good, too, Finn decided as he let himself sink. The shock of it made the silence so loud, all at once-- It was like feeling a color, really. The brightness of white, made up of everything at once, for the nerves. The ringing of your ears from too much noise on your skin. Enveloped in the muchness, Finn watched the sunlight fade by degrees as the weight of his body dragged him down. Further, further. Just a little further now. His lungs tugged at him, insistent, but he pushed the thought away with a scowl. Finn liked it down here, liked the way the loneliness made sense. No one was meant to be alone in the sunshine, but in this place, it was okay to be alone.

His lungs tugged again, and Finn let a few frustrated bubbles slip from his nose.

So he fought his way back up the sun, back to the world he was born into, gasping as he broke the surface of the water. Pulling himself back onto the small sloop he'd rented for the weekend, Finn tried to shake the morbidity out of his own mind. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so... introspective, although it had been happening more and more of late. He was supposed to be a happy person, Finn told himself, sternly. He always had been, before. Nothing had upset him much, outside of physical aches and pains.

It was the damn dreams again. Finn frowned at the thought as he reeled in his anchor. It had been another bad one. Those were new, too. Dreams of burning. Not like the sun, though. Something much crueler. Finn shuddered and shook his head. No, there was no need to think about those when the sun was still on his side. He could think of the others, instead, the ones he missed-- The ones where someone looked in his eyes and saw him... even when Finn wasn't sure who he was.

Those were the best ones.

Finn unfurled his sails, stomach grumbling. He'd been at sea all day and some of the night before, since the nightmares had woken him up, and he'd already eaten through everything he'd packed in the small cooler. It was time to head back to dry land, at least long enough to get some food in his belly.

He walked the streets aimlessly, sun-drunk and bored. Finn was always an easy mark for any street merchant with hot food and a quick tongue. Now that he was back in the real world, his stomach felt like a gaping pit, and he wandered from stall to cart to kiosk, snacking indiscriminately. A grilled skewer here, something fried and smothered with sauce there... Finn followed one delicious scent after another down the coastline, idly making his way through the local delicacies as the began to fall past the horizon.

As he walked, Finn thought about another dream. Not the one he'd had last night, or even his favorites. This one had been weird, but not bad. His best friend was a pig, for some reason, and they had raced through the forest with-- with a woman whose name he had forgotten the moment he'd woken up. Something about her was so familiar to him, though Finn was sure he had never met her before. If he tried, he could almost remember her face, his own eyes staring back at him--

"Oof."

In an effort to not completely trample the person he'd just bumped into, Finn twisted his body, his momentum sending him instead into the wall next to him. As he collided with the brick, the numerous half-eaten snacks and sauces tumbled to the ground, splattering Finn's bare feet.

"Ah, shit," Finn hissed, pushing himself off the wall and bending to scoop up his trash. "No, don't apologize, I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm really--" Finn made the mistake of looking up before he finished his sentence. He was proud of himself for continuing without a beat, "-- sorry. Seriously, it's not your fault. I should have known better," because his brain, frankly, was on fire.

Finn had seen beautiful people before, of course. He had even slept with most of them. But wasn't sure if he'd ever seen someone so... ethereal. Not in real life, anyway. They had a kind of beauty that was almost palpable, an aura of gentleness and warmth that Finn wanted to reach out and touch. His fingers twitched, crinkling the plastic cups in his grip.

And then he smiled, a blush spreading across his cheeks, and Finn could have sworn right then that he had died and gone to heaven. Because Finn knew what someone interested in him looked like, could see the beginning sparks of attraction in those dark, glittering eyes, and it felt-- Finn fought the urge to shudder at the feeling curling at the base of his spine. Finn had long known what it felt like to be lusted after, known what it felt like to want, but this was something completely different. It was a thrill like he hadn't felt in years, a flush of victory that no trophy could ever give him, and he felt the answering grin crack over his face with an enthusiasm he couldn't contain.

"Hi," he answered, and then, "If you apologize again, I'm going to have do something really stupid to show how sorry I am. It's fine. I'm-- Everything's okay." Usually, he would have made some stupid joke about getting on his knees in public, but something about this encounter made everything seem too sacred for that. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head begging him not to fuck this up, and he was determined to listen to it.

"I'm Finn, by the way. I'm in town for the-- for business," he decided to say. The surfing competition felt wrong, suddenly, like it was something someone else was doing with his body. He didn't want to be Finn Thomas, professional surfer, right now. He just wanted to be Finn. "As you can see," he joked, gesturing to his bare feet and unbuttoned shirt.

"Are you, uh, from around here?" Before the other could even answer, Finn scoffed at his suddenly awkward flirtation. "Sorry, stupid question. I'm still a little dizzy from the sun, I guess."
 
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Basilio had seen many, many beautiful people in his life. Though he wouldn't say that he'd ever been a social butterfly, he was the type to fall in and out of love quite easily. Oftentimes, whenever he met someone new and interesting, he could feel their attention filling him with joy, making him hungrier and hungrier for the looks they shared, for the secrets they whispered to one another as the days went by. To be loved, to be adored, all of it was so familiar and yet so distant. He craved it, that passion that he felt, running through his veins and making him sigh dreamily, and yet it never lasted. His adoring crushes eventually dissipated with time and whatever partner he had soon grew tired of showering him with a constant stream of love and affection as the honeymoon phase passed them by. He did not blame them. Despite his track record, the majority of his breakups had ended amicably.

But why did this feel different? How could he feel different about a stranger? Suddenly, his cheeks were on fire. The handsome stranger's food had fallen to the ground, now dirtied by the wisps of sand that had blown from the beach and onto the walkways. Without even realizing it, Basilio tucked some of his hair behind his ears, not knowing what to do with his hands besides preen. They hoped their face wasn't as red as they thought it was...

The other insisted that he not apologize, then he shot him the cutest grin he'd ever had the chance of laying his eyes upon. Hesusmaryosep, how could a person be so beautiful? Basilio felt almost dazed by the radiance of that look, of the boyish curiosity in those eyes and the voice that accompanied them. "S-Sorry," they started up again, instinctively, before freezing up and realizing what they'd just said... And cracking into a laugh, "Okay, um, I'm not sorry, then." They corrected themselves, feeling a goofy smile pull up at their own lips, unable to hide it. This person was pure sunshine.

He introduced himself as Finn. "Basilio." he offered up his own name in response, tilting his head slightly out of curiosity when the other mentioned being in town for business. It was vague, but he supposed it wasn't really his business what Finn was doing here... Even if he now wanted it to be. The jokes made him giggle, slightly nervously, despite it all. He felt like some sort of lovesick schoolgirl, giddy and excitable, even over the small things. Ah, he was going to embarrass himself, wasn't he?

"There aren't any stupid questions." was Basilio's gentle response, though it was slightly firmer than his other statements, being something he believed a little more in, "Yes, um... I work at the aquarium. As a biologist." His eyes flitted to the food that was now going to waste. Nay would've killed him if she saw such a scene. "Hey, um, why don't I treat you to dinner? I was just about to buy myself some and since I ruined your food, I should probably make it up to you."

An excuse to talk longer.

hesusmaryosep - jesus, mary and joseph. usually used as an interjection in tagalog, to express shock, disbelief or anger.
nay - short for nanay, which means mother.
 
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With greedy eyes, Finn soaked up every second of Basilio's presence-- Every movement, every micro-expression, was suddenly something precious. It was an intensity that would have frightened him, but Finn only had so much capacity for self-awareness. Everything else was swallowed up by the desire to never forget the the curve of Basilio's fingers as he tucked is hair behind his ear, or the way a blush spread across his cheeks. Maybe it was the suddenness with which they had appeared that made them seem so enthralling, the idea that they might leave just qas quickly hanging over Finn's head. Hell, Finn wasn't even sure he entirely believed they were real, yet.

Then Basilio laughed, and Finn was suddenly sure of his own insanity, because it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. Satisfaction hit his vein, blooming like addiction across his nerves. Somehow, though, the idea of being mad didn't disturb him that much. This was the most alive he'd felt in months, wth just the simple pleasure of a stranger smiling up at him. "That's the spirit!" Finn crowed, just so he could hear it again.

"Oh, wait until you get to know me better," Finn said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I will introduce you to levels of stupidity previously uncharted by mankind." Maybe selling himself as an idiot wasn't the most appealing flirtation Finn had ever engaged in, but he was never going to be a genius. If he could at least get Basilio to laugh more, that would at least be something they could remember, something to make them smile later when-- when--

When what?

Unable to answer his own question, Finn cleared the laughter from his throat and nodded. Well. It was more of a faux-solemn bow, because when Finn started joking, there was very little in the world that could make him stop. "I would be honored, Dr. Basilio," he said, "But not because you owe me." Finn winked. "I've never been to dinner with a biologist before."

After a beat, he had to admit, "... and also because I forgot my wallet in my swim trunks."
 
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Getting to know him better had already been on the list, but when Finn mentioned it himself, it was a relief, as though it hadn't just been his idea. The spark was reciprocated. It was instant, a sudden flame growing without needing to be nurtured, engulfing the two of them and melting them into one, as if they had always known each other, as if they'd always been meant to meet like this. The conversation was both awkward and so natural all at once. Finn was a dream, a beautiful mirage revealing itself to a bewitched Basilio, joking and laughing in ways that felt so familiar, so much like home. They rested the urge to giggle and twirl their fingers between locks of their own hair, not knowing what to do with their body to look both normal and charming. Finn seemed to do so with ease.

"Doctor?" Basilio echoed, waving him off and shaking his head, "Nothing like that. I, um, mostly take care of penguins all day. And fish. Lots and lots of... Fish." Realizing that his job description was not the most tantalizing bit of information he could share (after all, who wanted to hang out with anyone who spent their entire day surrounded by fish?), he scratched his cheek, nervously gesturing forwards, down the walkway, to suggest that Finn follow him. They did pause, however, when the other mentioned they'd left their wallet in their swim trunks. "Ah, pfft..." they laughed softly, "We're too similar already." Basilio patted their bag, rummaging through it briefly just to make sure they still had all their stuff.

"Shockingly, I didn't forget mine, so dinner will work out just fine. What are you craving?" The question was genuine, mostly because he was greedily taking in any information he could about the other, feeling the setting sun cast warm rays upon them as they walked. Or maybe, he was just creating all that warmth himself, radiating it simply from being around Finn. He wouldn't be surprised, considering the feeling in his chest at the moment. They were heading away from the boardwalk, further into the city, where less and less sand encroached upon the walkways. He would miss the scent of the ocean, but Finn seemed to be carrying it with him, from being out there all day.

"So, um... What do you do then? For business?" they asked innocently, though it was gentle, obviously trying to respect Finn's privacy if it were meant to be a secret. "Unless you really do want to hear about the fish and the penguins. I will warn you that they basically act like toddlers though, so the drama isn't very, um... Juicy."
 
It was easy to fall into step with Basilio, following his lead like one would an old friend-- But that wasn't unusual, not for Finn. He was knowing for being a little too friendly, treating everyone with the same warmth until they gave him a reason not to. What was odd about this was how nervous Finn felt about it. It was easy for Finn to make friends because he had long since accepted that things would either work out or wouldn't, and by the time nerves kicked in, the situation was largely out of his hands. His manager called it serenity, his mother called it nihilism, and most everyone else called it annoying. The point was, anyway, that Finn wasn't nervous before competitions that could make or break his entire career, so why should people scare him?

Except Basilio, apparently.

He wasn't scared, really. Not in the way people usually mean it. But never being nervous meant Finn was never all that excited for anything anymore, either. Nothing thrilled him the way things used to, not a wave or a meal or a pretty face. He was pretty sure it wasn't depression, since no amount of covert or very expensive therapy had been able to move him in one direction or the other. Finn was just stuck in the middle, on that painfully happy medium, and often the only thing he felt was the frustrated yearning to feel something. So while Finn wasn't nervous the way most men would be right now, no panicked thought of 'what if he doesn't like me,' just the thrill of anticipation that Basilio gave him was enough to scare him shitless.

Because if Finn lost this feeling again, he honestly wasn't sure what he'd do.

"No, that's so cool. I've never met a penguin before. Met lots of fish, but never long enough to learn their names," he joked. "Seriously, though, I wish I had the patience to do that kinda stuff. I thought about it, once, but then I realised everytime I tried to read about the ocean, I'd black out and then wake up swimming." It was an exaggeration made to make Basilio laugh, but one based on the truth. What kid who loved the ocean hadn't dreamed of becoming a marine biologist? Quickly, though, Finn realised the only science he cared about was which tides and winds would bring him the best swells, and 'meteorologist' didn't have the same ring to it.

The question of dinner stumped him, however. Finn wasn't picky about food, except-- "I don't eat pork. It's not a religious thing, I just can't stand the idea. You ever met a pig? They're so smart. It would be like eating a dolphin or one of those talking gorillas," Finn explained. He flushed. "Sorry, I know that doesn't leave us with a bunch of options..."

Nothing was determined to go his way, apparently-- Basilio asked about his job, and Finn's stomach exploded with nerves. He hated talking about his career outside of interviews and business meetings. 'Professional surfer' sounded like such a ridiculous job; It was still surreal to Finn that people paid him to surf. Worse, now that he'd won a couple bigger titles, people were offering him money just to surf on a specific beach in his downtime. That was what he was doing here a week before the competition: Some useless marketing plpt thought up by a resort on one of the less popular beaches.

It was embarrassing.

Still, they had asked, and Finn wanted to give an answer. He just wished it was a better one.

Rubbing at the blush rising on his neck, Finn tried to shrug it off. "I, uh-- Well. I'm a surfer. Like, professionally, I guess. And, look, you don't have to do that thing most jocks want you to do where you tell me how cool and talented I am, because I promise you, nothing about my job is half as interesting as it sounds. I would honestly much rather hear about the penguin drama."
 
Interacting with people at work was easy. His coworkers were friendly, but he wasn't too close to most of them these days. His daydreams made him better company for the fish and the penguins, since he often got caught up in his own thoughts, forgetting what the conversation was about. The waking reveries came at any time of day now, so entrancing that he could not deny them passage into his mind: trying to fight it only made them stronger. Perhaps his subconscious wanted him to discover something new about himself, either that or it simply wanted to be as annoying as possible... Yet somehow, right now, he felt as tuned in as possible. Everything felt incredibly real, colours brighter, sensations more vivid.

Basilio mocked shock in response to Finn mentioning he'd never learned the proper names of the fish he'd met. "How rude! Thankfully, it seems like your manners are better with other humans, hm?" they hummed teasingly, though they switched gears easily to nod at Finn's reasoning for not reading much about the ocean. "Academia is complicated. I love what I studied, but all the books and the essays and convoluted readings... It's not for everyone, pfft." He stared out at the waterfront, seeing it disappear behind buildings every once in a while, out of their sight for longer and longer as they left the edge of the city, travelling towards more populated areas. "Sometimes, you can know all you need to when just looking... Experiencing. Feeling. You know?" His eyes flicked back to Finn's, testing his words.

On the mention of him not eating pork, Basilio waved him off with a kind smile, shaking their head. "Noted. No need to worry. I'm sorry to say that Filipino food would most definitely be hard for you, considering how much pork is in everything..." their words wandered off, their thoughts trying to gather together all the non-pork foods they could remember, "But I think I have something in mind. If you're leaving it up to me, pfft."

That little pasta place had many vegetarian options that he'd found appealing. Straying away from places that served meat certainly would bring them to a place where Finn could have as many options as possible. The thought of disappointing the other man, even when it came to choosing a restaurant, was making him sweat. Basilio lead him down the street, the sound of chatter and cars cruising past them floating in the air. He didn't hurry Finn along when a blush suddenly crept onto his sun-kissed skin, waiting patiently, though when he heard the answer to his question, he was surprised that Finn had seemed so embarrassed to tell him.

"Surfing sounds amazing. I'm not the adventurous type, I think, but... It looks so free." Basilio marvelled at the idea, easily able to see Finn out on the waves, in his mind, "It suits you, I think. Looks like we were both drawn to the water." They laughed, shaking their head when they were told that penguin drama was probably more interesting, "Oh, you want to hear about how Lumpia stole Adobo's fish right out his mouth, staring a penguin brawl?"

He'd named many of the penguins himself. Oftentimes, they had difficulty thinking of names on the spot, but they'd settled on staying with the theme of naming them after Filipino dishes.

They turned onto a nearby street, Basilio stopping in front of a tiny café, gesturing to it now for Finn. "Have you ever tried this place? I ate here last week and it was pretty good. It's vegetarian, so no need to worry about any pork." The front of the establishment was decorated with brightly coloured fruits in assorted patterns, lopsided light catchers hanging off of the front awning and casting tiny rainbows everywhere. The menu was limited, fit onto a chalkboard, mostly showing off simple pasta and salad options.
 
Honestly, something different sounded wonderful right now. Finn had noticed something odd about traveling in his years as a rookie. At first, you would ask people at the hotels you stayed at or fellow tourists for suggestions and they would look at him and think oh, young American kid, and give him the same four restaurants on whatever beach they gave everyone else. Eventually, as he surfed the same waters time and again, he started asking the locals instead. That went much better, for a time-- The food and culture was always more authentic than whatever was made to cater specifically to outsiders. Eventually, though, Finn had bored of that, as well. He understood why people recommended the things they did, but in his opinion, not every meal needed to be representative of the place's entire cuisine. Sometimes, he just wanted to eat burgers in Japan, or spaghetti in Mexico. "Whatever you usually eat is fine with me, honestly. I know I came out of the gate picky, but usually, I swear I'm easy."

Finn sighed, pushing a hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. His feelings about his job were complicated, but no amount of talking about it had ever helped him make sense of it. Basilio seemed genuinely interested, and Finn wanted them to understand him. He just wasn't sure how to do that. "It's... free might be a word for it. Honestly, it's definitely better than an office job would have been, but it's..." Finn pouted, the words stuck in the back of his throat. "It's different than I expected? It used to be so fun, but it's different, now, you know? It's all about money and winning and go here and do this and go there and do something else and never, ever just be. It's like what you said about experiencing things in the real world. I don't feel like I'm actually living... I just wish I could get on a boat and sail into the horizon and just-- Just float somewhere. No plans, no safety net. Real freedom. People used to just pack up and go wherever and start a new life and that's what I want." He laughed. "And I feel like shit for it! Because I'm literally living the dream, but I can't stand it."

After venting, Finn focused completely on Basilio's stories of his charges at the zoo, occasionally jumping in to add soap opera worthy explanations for their behavior. As they walked and the stories grew more and more rambling, Finn could finally find the knot of embarrassment in his shoulders letting loose. Maybe he hadn't messed anything up too badly by being absolutely too emotional vulnerable with a stranger.

When they reached the cafe, Finn was already grinning before Basilio even explained the menu. It was such a beautiful little building, cute and eclectic like something out of a fairytale. Even if he hated the food here, the trip was definitely worth it. "I've never been here," Finn said, sounding thrilled about the development. "It's adorable; I can tell this is going to be a new favorite when I'm here." He opened the door, gesturing for Basilio to go in. "I think the one who remembered their money this morning gets to go in first."

In the end, however, it didn't really matter who went first-- The small dining room of the cafe was crammed full, every table occupied and the line from the counter nearly reaching the door. The staff, looking harried and sweaty, visibly cringed when Basilio and Finn came in. Finn hid his a chuckle, ducking his head and muttered to Basilio, "Let's give them a break and find somewhere to eat outside, yeah?"

He tried to make the waiting process as painless as possible, both for Basilio and the people around them, making his jokes quieter and trying to quiet the usual restless movements of his limbs. When they reached the front of the line, Finn ordered a simple gnocchi and grabbed a couple plastic forks and a fistful of napkins while Basilio ordered. Finally making it out of the cafe was like leaving a battlefield victorious, and Finn stumbled out of the door, giggling with relief.

"Wow." Finn walked backwards, weaving from side to side on the sidewalk. "I can't believe we made it! Good work in there, soldier. Your service will live on in the history books forever."
 
There was something mesmerizing about the way that Finn talked, the way that he moved. There was wistfulness in his tone, in his eyes, a sort of longing that Basilio wished that he could take from him and feel for himself. Or maybe he already did? They felt that way too, lost even when they knew what they were supposed to be doing, what they were expected to become. It was almost strange, listening to those words spill from Finn's mouth when Basilio could've echoed them without even hearing them. Like I'm not actually living... They weighed those words on their tongue, over and over, feeling himself grow tired from trying to carry them. The sentiments coated his tastebuds with something both empty, tasteless and somehow bitter all at once.

His eyes softened. "I think I can say the same." He could only get that out at first, "Living what you thought should've been it... And yet you're always still going through the motions, looking for something." It was amazing that they'd bumped into each other. Maybe their brains had brought them here, spiraling into the same patterns, fates colliding only because of how similar they were. It was a beautiful thought, a romantic one.

If only they'd known.

Their conversation filled the space between them, the walk to the cafe suddenly one of the shortest slots of time Basilio had ever experienced in their life. They only giggled when Finn opened the door for them in an act of politeness and chivalry, though they weren't able to enter too far in with the crowd. Wow. For such a small place, they certainly had garnered a lot of favour with the locals. Uncomfortably sliding himself into line with Finn, Basilio nodded when he suggested getting out of there as soon as they got their food, in order to give the visibily exhausted staff a break. Definitely understandable.

Sitting outside, away from the crowd, somehow felt more intimate in Basilio's head anyway. Maybe because they could make their own space to exist in that way.

Regardless, they were in and out as soon as possible, with Basilio ordering himself a spicy ratatouille pasta dish that he hadn't known existed until just then, buying it out of curiosity. The fresh air outside that cramped space suddenly felt like heaven despite the heat and they could only laugh at Finn's gleeful salute, watching him walk backwards without a care in the world. "War is hell... I think those poor employees need a medal each, more than I do. I'm just happy to eat." he snickered, shaking his head before he pointed out a few benches near a public park. "Shall we?"

This was perfect. They would eat, they would talk, Basilio would get over his stupid nerves and offer him his phone number then skip home giddily like a lovestruck school girl. At least, that had been the plan. The fact that a woman in a sports bra and joggers sprinting towards him hadn't registered as out of the blue at first. After all, people exercised outside here all the time, especially near the beach, since the view was nice. He hadn't even noticed the intensity of her darkened gaze, the firm, tense line of her lips pressed against each other until she'd grabbed both him and Finn by the arms.

He froze, blinking and processing the action, not even jerking away because the shock had caught him. What did she want? Her face was red, eyes alarmed. "We have to go. Now." she commanded, dragging them with a frightful amount of force, nearly making Basilio fall over onto the pavement.

"I, um, are you okay? Please let go." Their voice was a mixture of fear, bewilderment and pity, confused at her actions and wondering if she was on anything, grabbing random people on the street.

She craned her neck, looking over her shoulder. "I can't fucking explain right now, just follow me...!" she ground out the words between gritted teeth. Basilio opened his mouth to protest, but it fell slack when he saw what was behind her, turning the corner with surprising speed. No one else on the street reacted to it, as though it were invisible.

A vague puff of black smoke, moving as though it were sentient. Within it was pitch black, as though an abyss had torn straight through the fabric of time, traveling towards them and ripping open the world at its seams.
 
It was one of the best dates Finn had ever been on, the fact it wasn't a date notwithstanding. He wasn't really a 'let's grab lunch' kind of person; Usually because he was following the tides from coast to coast, but sometimes because most of his relationships boiled down to anonymous hookups in the dark. This was the closest he'd had since, what, his single misguided semester of college? It was definitely going straight into the top ten.

Which was, of course, why monsters had to ruin it.

The moment Finn opened his mouth to fire his own joke back at Basilio, the woman was on them, her grip like iron around his wrist. Instinctually, Finn reached out for Basilio's waist-- He wasn't sure what his plan was, he just wanted them out of her hands and behind him. Finn hadn't ever been much of a fighter, except in his dreams, but he was taller and broader and used his body to make his living. Whatever this was, Finn was certain he could handle it. No need to get Basilio, with his soft hands and kind eyes, involved.

For a few months, there was chaos, all three of them shouting over each other-- "You need to step the fuck back," being Finn's brilliant contribution --but as Finn scanned the street for any local looking sympathetic enough to call the authorities, he saw it. It was the oblivion of his dreams made real, the heat and the dark that had eaten at his bones now a living thing. Finn didn't think it so much as moved as it consumed, devouring atom after atom completely before moving to the next, letting what it didn't need pass through, rewriting the world as it went. The abyss gazes back, Finn though for a moment as shock filtered through his veins. Maybe it was the fact no one else seemed to notice, or the sick familiarity with his own doom that convinced him, but Finn knew it was looking for them.

However quickly the shock settled, the adrenaline was even quicker. Finn only felt the numbness for a heartbeat before his fight or flight kicked in. His right hand, which had gone momentarily slack on Basilio's waist, flew to Finn's own hip. It was only when his fingers closed around nothing that he began to willingly follow the directions of the woman's grasping hands.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Finn said, because his real question was unlike him he scarcely believed it came from his own brain: How do I kill it? Ultimately, what it was didn't matter, because whatever you called it, it was Nothing, and Finn didn't have that on his bucket list. "We have to get off foot, it's too fast-- a car or a bus or something." Or a boat, he thought, though the docks would be one hell of a sprint.
 
The fear in her eyes was real. Basilio could see why. Staring into the gaping maw of unexistence, if such a state was real, was nothing short of nightmare fuel. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like that before, never had he ever been in broad daylight and stared into something and not seen anything within. It was an open wound, moving towards them, warping the space around it like some sort of black hole, headed straight in their direction. Was he dreaming? It would explain why Finn was so mystical, why reality was being bent in such a way. This dream did not feel like being merciful, Basilio supposed. Those next few seconds were a mess of cursing and talking over each other at first in the panic, but the woman did not lose her sense of urgency in the slightest, gripping at the both of them as hard as she could, as if she had the strength to drag two adult men with her at the same time.

And she sort of did. Whatever raw power she had in those toned muscles, they were certainly pulling their weight. The terror was growing heavy in Basilio's veins, their mind spinning with questions and possibilities. If she was running, she knew what that thing could do. People on the street were vaguely eyeing the three of them now, confused at the ruckus they were causing.

Finn asked what it was. The woman frowned deeply. "It's coming to kill us. I knew it was coming for me, but when it started changing direction, I fucking knew it found others." she spat, looking almost guilty for a moment, her dark brows drawn together, "If we break the line of sight we can get away for a little bit." This implied that getting out of sight was not a surefire way to escape the doom approaching them. Basilio felt a shiver crawl down their spine, nodding in a panicked fashion, not sure how to add to the conversation without babbling nonsense.

It would be better to just get moving, they supposed.

And so the woman lead them down the street with shocking speed, one that Basilio could not fully keep up with. She was sprinting, with her eyes darting all over the place, head jerking around whenever it could in order to check all of their options. Basilio felt his food get tossed around inside its container. Luckily it wasn't anything that was ruined by a bit of jostling (or a lot of jostling), but he supposed that wasn't his biggest concern at the moment, definitely not topping the need to survive. His breath grew laboured as the woman pointed to a stairway leading down to the subways, fire in her eyes.

"I can get us back to where I've been staying. This will keep us out of sight."

She did not take any feedback. Basilio hurried along, down the steps, exchanging glances with Finn, as if to ask if he was okay, even if Basilio himself did not feel very okay. However, they immediately skidded to a halt when the woman jumped the fare collector bars, anxiously standing behind them. They did not have fare. Leave it to Basilio to be too polite to jump the turnstiles even when their life was in danger.