WHO: Alejandro, JoaquĂn, and Faihan WHEN:Continued from... WHERE: The Beach SUMMARY: They know the other's face, but why? And how? Also: Faihan is nicer to Joaco than usual and a teeny breakthrough occurs. CW: Smol spice thought. Hints of depression and anxiety (& existential dread).
Alejo didnât expect to have to call an ambulance for a complete stranger when he set off to play with his friends at the beach. Well, no, not a complete stranger. The face was, well, familiar in ways that he couldnât comprehend. Didnât want to comprehend. Either way, he had other things to worry about as the ambulance pulled over, like the guy who had been glaring daggers at him for far too long. He already apologized! What else did he want?
âYou yeyesitos are too selfish.â
âBro, I told you it was an accident already, what do you want? Money?â
Joaco made a sound of annoyance, folding his arms over his head as he cast his gaze over to Faihan who was now receiving first aid.
He smelled resin, something like incense. A little floral, a little woodsy. Badr had burned incense, to make his new room smell a little more like home. What a baby, homesick on day one... Faihan had been homesick for more than a year, struggling to learn Spanish as fast as he could and being laughed at every time he had to speak in class because of it. Heâd missed the friends heâd had in Canada. Heâd missed his home, too. But he was told to just get used to it.
Badr disgusted him. Another spoiled child who wanted for nothing. He had no idea what it was like, having to ration instant noodles and sleeping in a house with five other people and not enough rooms (much less bedrooms). What would a pampered child like Badr know about being paid so little he couldnât afford a phone? Living at the mercy of a very crotchety old baker, unsure if he'd be able to afford even his miniscule share of that tiny house? What would a weak man like Badr know about life? Badr had wanted to go home on the very first day... It was probably one of the only times anyone had told him âno.â So he burned incense and sulked until...
Badrâs hands looked like Faihanâs hands. Less calloused and with fewer scars. Less strong, because he didnât knead dough with the sunrise. He watched those hands dragged backwards and felt them pinned behind him. Yes, there was Badr, his warming skin redolent with some sort of extravagant floral perfume, pressed to a thick rug that some sad servant must have had to lug hundreds of miles for him. There he was, tangled in his beautiful layers of embroidery, pinned to the ground with âââââ atop him and a girl yelling in the doorway. He could feel, as though the fingerprints had seared his skin, every place ââââââs careless hands had touched himâno, every place they had touched Badr. And he could feel, too, how much Badr had wanted the man to keep touching him...
â...selfish.â â...want money?â
His ears were ringing, and there was a white-sharp pain behind his eyes. He cringed, pressing his hand to his brow. What was happening? He looked around, not sure where he was, or what was happening to him, except that he didnât feel very well. Off-balance, but in a way that wasnât wholly physical. He realized people were nearby, and that they were looking at him, which immediately made his face burn (why were they looking at him like that?), and there was aâ
âWhat the fuck! What have you done?â
Adrenaline screamed through his bloodstream. He was on his feet in a second, staring fixedly at the ambulance.
âWait, wait, stop moving so much!â Alejoâs hands were on Faihanâs shoulders, pushing him back down to sit on the chair Alejandro and JoaquĂn had deposited him in. Alejo kept his hands there, squeezing as if it would coax Faihan to stop moving.
Joaco was quiet as the paramedic began his attempt to check on Faihan, but something told me he would hiss and complain about it. âYou okay, Fee Fee? You need to take it easy.â
Faihan didnât scream exactly, but the sound he made was at least a squeak. For half a second, he forgot about the ambulance and the potential repercussions of that for him. A dream person was touching him in real life. This was different from the potential of James or Jojo being dream people. They had not manifested before him after the dream. This man had come out of his dreams, and that was not natural or good. That wasâ
âGet away from me! Youâre not real!â
He tried to give Alejo a good shove, thinking to scrabble his way out of the chair and as far away as he couldâeven if he had to do it on hands and knees. If insanity was something that could be literally run away from, he was going to do it! He wasâ
ânot going to do it. That off-kilter feeling in his brain seemed to have its parallel in his body after all, because he felt kind of sick, like maybe all this squirming and shouting was going to make the contents of his stomach return if he didnât stop. Unable to shove the impossible dream man away, he turned, wide-eyed, to Joaco, and he uttered two words that perhaps Joaco might never hear again if Faihan had his way.
âHelp me.â
âHey, yeyesito. Cut it out.â Joaco stepped closer, a hand tapping Alejo on his arm, and at first it only earned him a glare before Alejo stepped back because the ambulance person also requested him to.
This guy looked like someone he had seen before, Alejo was sure. He ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed, pacing away from the other people just because he was frustrated with the reaction he got, as well as the feeling of deja vu.
âFaihan, what happened?â The paramedic shushed Joaco and he lifted his hands in defeat.
Things were happening on top of each other, and...somehow he had to deal with it. Who else was going to? Who else ever had? Faihan had taken care of himself for years without anyone elseâs help. Whyâd he even ask Joaco for help? Except it had gotten the dream man to go away for a moment. Faihan stared after him, the expression on his face still pale. That man was not supposed to exist. If he existed, then...
He felt woozy again and closed his eyes, pressing his hands to his face.
Well, Joaco had helped him, even if asking for help left Faihan feeling guilty and embarrassed. But it meant that one of the things most upsetting him was under control, so...he could think about the other thing.
âWhy is there an ambulance? I donât need... Iâm fine. I swear Iâm fine.â
âShut up and let them help you,â Joaco spoke in a stern voice that Faihan had never heard before. He got as close as he was allowed to and crouched down to be at eye level with him. âYou can get angry about it later.â
Faihan stopped talking, lowering his hands. He didnât know how to explain how much of a problem this could end up being for him. And all because...because dream people were walking around in real life! That wasnât normal! That wasnât okay! Dream people had come to life, and people were looking at him like he was the crazy one.
So he reached for Joaco, annoyed that the medic was separating him. âTheyâllâ You donât...understand.â But his voice sounded flimsy to him, his protests cut down so easily by the firmness in Joacoâs tone.
Despite the looks he was receiving, Joaco reached out to take Faihanâs hand. âShush, let them help you,â he insisted with the same edge of his tone as he squeezed Faihanâs hand tight. Why was this man so damn stubborn?
âWhatever youâre worrying about, weâll think about it later, okay?â After a second squeeze, Joaco let go before he got chastised.
If he said why, would Joaco get it? Joaco seemed to be so close to his family. When he talked about them, it seemed to Faihan that there really might not be anything that could interfere with that. So maybe he wouldnât understand why Faihan was...
...
...afraid.
He wished everything could go back to how it had been before the dreams. He didnât want his life to be strange. He didnât want to have to deal with the unexpected, to end up in situations like this. He wished that he was Badr. Then he wouldnât have to face anything alone. People would help him just becauseâ
But he was stronger than Badr, because he hadnât had someone to lean on. Heâd had to stand on his own two feet all this time. And he had sacrificed everything for the life he had now. Whatever came, no one would take that from him, because he did know about the real world, and he knew how to suffer hardship. So he didnât need to be like Badr. He was strong enough to take care of himself, to face them and protect everything heâd built for himself...
Heâd never heard that tone before. Heâd seen Joaco nervousâfretting over his uncle at the film festival. But heâd never seen him be so serious. He was just the âfish boy,â that blithe kid who floated through life, doing good deeds just because. He wasnât someone who told people to shut up. Yet Joaco seemed to care about him submitting to examination as much as Faihan wanted to avoid trouble. Why? Faihan was mostly a jerk to him, so why did it matter...? But he nodded, because...it seemed like it genuinely might. He sat back, waiting for the medic to finish their work, watching the tall, blonde-ish man pacing beyond the crowd.
âIs he... Is he really here?â
âWho? Alejandro?â Joaco looked over at the Bravo kid who had run over Faihan who was now busy chatting with his friends or whatever it was before glancing back at his friend. âAs real as any other yeyesito, why?â
It sure was obvious Faihanâs distress wasnât over being hit, but why was he so panicked?
The blondeâs name was not Alejandro. Faihan wanted to point out that his name was something else, except...what was his name? He knew that manâs hands by now, but what was his name? He had looked just like that in the dream. Faihan was sure of it, even with his dream memories being slippery and vague in most places. When he looked up at that face, heâd known...that was the dummy that Badr was dangerously close to developing feelings for. It was like Faihan had summoned him. He had been just about to tell Joaco about that guy, and then heâAlejandroâjust appeared.
He shook his head, because the weirdness was closing in on him again, and it was making his stomach hurt all, making him feel fuzzy and disjointed, and he thought maybe he was okay enough to go home, as long as he remained calm now.
âHeâs... That man... I...â he attempted. He was staring at the tall guy now talking to his friends like something really messed up hadnât just happened; he looked as frightened as the stranger appeared oblivious. âI remember him...â He glanced at the medic. He couldnât talk about shared dreams or false memories, not if he wanted the medic to let him go. He cleared his throat, looked at Joaco as meaningfully as he could and repeated, âI remember him.â
âOf course you do, heâs Alejandro Bravo. Must have seen him somewhere,â Joaco replied with trained calmness, addressing the topic casually before he chuckled in amusement. âDonât worry, he wonât sue you or anything.â Did he get what Faihan meant? Well, Joaco was obviously not confused, at least.
This had to do with the monsters and everything else, of course he knew that.
But Joacoâs face showed no signs of doubt of what he was saying. There was no hesitation or difficulty in the way he was speaking. âBy the way, I convinced him to cover the costs.â
Faihan watched Joaco, not sure if he really understood or not. He seemed almost too composed? But also Joaco always seemed unfazed, so it was possible he was just trying to keep Faihan calm. But Faihan didnât know Alejandro Bravo. (And of course Alejandro was a fucking Bravo. Like Faihan wanted another one peeking in on his life. He already had to worry about not offending Ofelia Bravo and her terrible son. And okay, he did like it when AndrĂŠs Bravo popped in and chatted with him on the network⌠But AndrĂŠs was a one-off, and he didnât need more Bravo stress!) He knew he hadnât seen that face before now except in dreams...and Badrâs memories. Why was he experiencing Badrâs memories? Why was that guy here? Why were James and Jomana dreaming of Badr? The answer drew close to his consciousness, but he couldnât deal with it. Not right now.
âThanks,â was all he could think to say. He was thankful. On a practical level, he was very thankful. He didnât really have that kind of wiggle room in his budget for unexpected medical expenses, so it was good that Joaco had arranged that. But it was hard to focus on pragmatism when he was staring at Badrâs...object of infatuation...just here, walking around in his reality. He looked at his hands. If he was dreaming of Badr, was Badr also dreaming of him? A parallel reality? He probably hated Faihan as much as Faihan hated him. Heâd thought that would be comforting, or at least amusing, but somehow it didnât feel like either of those things to him. He somehow didnât want Badr to hate him...
But Badr wasnât real. Faihan was real.
He glanced at Joaco. He wanted to ask him if he thought Faihan was real, too. But then...he thought he might be becoming too emotionally attached to Joaco. He couldnât afford to be emotionally dependent, not on anyone. He knew how that would end. He had to simply trust that he was the real one, and whatever Badr was...it didnât matter. Because he and now, that was the reality.
âIâm sorry. You were trying to...be nice to me, bringing me here today, and everything got all messed up again, just like the film festival.â He looked away. â...Iâm sorry.â
Joaco shrugged his shoulders and smiled gently at Faihan. âThatâs life for you. Sometimes it really sucks.â He stood up, but he stayed close enough as the person finished all the check ups that Faihan needed; while he was obviously emotionally rattled, there wasnât anything wrong with him physically, at least nothing of significance.
âYou donât have to apologize, anyway.â
The medic released him, and Faihan stoodârelieved to have escaped a trip to the hospital. And, now that it was no longer a possibility, a little surprised that he had considered going to one just because Joaco might want him to. He was definitely getting too attached. He wasnât sure how to put the brakes on that either. He should be mean, so that there would be a safe amount of space between them again. He should snap at Joaco, so that Joaco left him behind. There was no reason for Joaco to be nice to himâŚ
...Or for him to lean on Joaco. He wanted to, though. Something inside him had ended up rearranged in all of this. His defenses had suffered infrastructural damage. He could not immediately repair them, and while they were down, he was vulnerable. Vulnerable enough that he looked up and, in a soft tone (somehow completely devoid of acid or saltiness), said, âJoacoâŚ? This is whatâs important, right? This...right nowâŚ?â
âOf course,â Joaco replied without hesitation and a warm smile.
Reaching over, he ruffled Faihanâs hair. âThink you can handle the yeyesito? Or should I keep guard?â He glanced over to Alejandro who was now looking at their direction since the ambulance was now packing up shop. âI should take you home, but we should also wash off the salt.â
Supposing Alejandro was like âââââ, Faihan was 100% certain that no, he could not handle the yeyesito. He stared at the ground, wondering if maybe Alejandro would just...go away now, but he had a bad feeling that wasnât in the cards.
He reached out, but his fingers faltered before they found the hem of Joacoâs shirt, and he closed his hand, pulling it back to his chest. He wondered if Joaco thought he was losing it. He knew none of this was a Faihan Reactionâ˘. He considered whether he should say something mean just to reassure Joaco he was going to be okay. He couldn't think of anything.
âPlease donât go far,â he muttered.
âIâm not going anywhere until you are home, of course,â Joaco said, giving Faihanâs head a light pat. âLooks like heâs walking over here,â he spoke softly, moving his hand away, but staying close as Faihan had requested.
âSoooo are you like, not dying, right?â Alejo rubbed the back of his head as he stood some distance away from the other two. The last thing he wanted was another freak out⌠but he was worried for the stranger just the same.
This was surreal. Alejandroâs voice sounded so familiar. He wasnât yelling about sparring or glory or friendship, but that was the voice. How was this possible? It shouldnât beâhe wanted to say couldnât be, except it obviously was and even he knew denial would do nothing for him right now. Faihan swallowed drily and shifted closer to Joaco who rested a hand on his shoulder.
âNo. Iâm fineâŚâ Faihan stared pointedly at his feet. âToo much sun, I guess.â He moved his gaze from his feet to Alejandroâs. What did you say to someone whoâd stepped out of your dreams anyway? Was it wise to bring up the memories? He hadnât even believed the memories could be real before now. ââŚâ His brow furrowed as he tried to think of what to say, or if he should say anything. âDo youâŚ? Does he...look like me?â
âIâm... glad,â Alejo said, just a little bit sheepish as he looked over at the sea urchin guy. For a moment, he worried he had killed someone, and he wouldnât have been able to cope with something like that. His eyes widened and he stared at the sudden question, his mouth agape-- except after a moment he was snickering. âYouâre the singing guy, right? With the bakery? How do you know you showed up in a dream?â
Joaco stayed quiet as he observed the exchange, deciding he had no reason to intervene for now.
Faihan cringed and ducked closer to Joaco. He had thought for a moment that at least this guy wasnât going to be a jerk, but to lead with thatâŚwhile laughing to bootâŚ! The tendons in his neck strained. It seemed like he might be trying to escape the situation by burying his chin into his neck. Some sort of harebrained effort to literally crawl inside himself and hide. But⌠He didnât want Joaco to think he was afraid of Alejandro Bravo. He cringed and withdrew at first, but then he forced himself to lift his face.
He hadnât known, but he had suspected. Now, suspicions confirmed, he decided to do nothing with them, because he was afraid of the implications, and so instead he spat out, âWhatever he is like in your dreams, Iâm not that guy. And this?â He gestured at AlejandroâŚand then reminded himself that he was talking to a Bravo, and it was not wise to let himself speak without a filter. He swallowed back the venom and looked away. âI am Faihan.â
Maybe he did not have the clout to tell off rich boys, but he had no intention of reframing their obliviousness with âcuteâ or âwell-meaning.â He would call a duck aâ
He shuddered, shaking his head. âIâm not Badr.â
âGood, because Iâm notâŚâ Alejo frowned, staring at the sky for a few seconds before he remembered. âTitus either. Are you a dream walker--or is this another case of a bruja casting a spell on my family? I have to start my investigations soonâŚâ He began to stroke his chin after brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. âBut why did this bruja involve you in her revenge plot? Is it your viral videos?â Alejo began to pace back and forth, forming a straight line on the sand as he continued mumbling to himself.
Joaco arched an eyebrow at both sides of this exchange, staring at both guys for a few seconds.
Faihan wanted to say, Magic isnât real. Thereâs no such thing as bruja. But could he say that anymore? It was ironic: many of the things his parents thoughtâmany of the things theyâd wanted him to believe, tooâwere patently false. He was all too aware of that. And yet he was clinging to the idea that there was nothing magical or strange in this world. Why? But, on the other hand, he doubted that if someone had asked a bruja to curse Alejandro Bravo, it would actually work, and even if it did, this was a very strange way of cursing him.
Right now, though, Faihan couldnât handle puzzling out if there was magic in the world, and which might be authentic and which folklore. Even for a man who lived in his head, the amount of thinking this afternoon was demanding of him was too much, and at the heart of it all, dread.
Joaco believed this moment was what mattered. Faihan wanted to believe that, too. But he was afraid that he might not matter as much as âBadr.â So what would happen now? Would he be recalled? Replaced with a better version?
He rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist. âI donât feel well.â
âOh no, again? Do you--â Alejo reached out and--
âWell, well, time for you to go back and hit on girls and waste money or whatever it is you like to do,â Joaco said, tugging Faihan way, herding him over to where their belongings were lying. âDo you need me to carry you? We still need to get changed.â
Alejo scratched his head and stared with a sour look on his face before walking away with a heavy sigh. Oh well, he had to start his investigationsâŚ
Part of him still wanted to sit on the beach with Joaco and stare at the clouds, but the beach felt crowded now. He was afraid if he didnât leave, he might end up sick, andâ No, he wasnât speculating on what went down between him being in the water and him being in the chair. He had calmly walked from one place to the other on his own two feet. Yes, that was how he would remember it.
Anyway, the gleam in Alejandroâs eyes was concerning. He had a feeling that if they didnât leave, Detective Bravo was not going to be able to restrain his curiosity. He glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure Alejandro was going about his business, and then he relaxed. He was safe from having to confront the Weird for now. He wasnât sure how heâd avoid thinking about all these things once he was home again, but for now, he had been given a pass to avoid it. He looked up at Joaco, shaking his head at the offer (though part of him thought that it would be nice to be in Joacoâs arms, but he told that part to be quiet and mind its own business), and made an attempt at bumping Joacoâs shoulder with his own. âThanks.â He scratched his cheek. âReally.â
Joaco lightly bumped back against Faihanâs shoulder, giving him a warm smile. âThatâs what friends are for, Fee Fee.â