WHO: Mateo & Faihan WHEN: November 10 WHERE: Pandoraâs Box SUMMARY: When fantasy spills into reality⊠CW: N/A
The fact is, as he said to Joaco, UML is inescapable. Itâs the heart of IZML, and as long as you live in Mar Luna, UML will permeate the landscape of your life. Faihan does his best to avoid it, despite that. UML, after all, symbolizes the moment where things went wrong for him. A landmark designating a past that he wants to forget...and yet, who can cut away that much of themselves and still remain? But he likes Pandoraâs Box. He likes books, and books on sale is even better. Most of the books now crowding his bookshelves are from the bargain night here.
But it has been a while since heâs come by the shop. Things have been busy and strange and distracting. Heâs had time to read his morning paperâhis little luxury between that five a.m. baking spree and when AzĂșcar actually opensâbut he hasnât been reading half as often as usual. He wonders if thatâs part of why he feels off-balance. Books make good company, it turns out, when youâre lonely.
He decides after work to throw on a short sleeve hoodie and pick out a few new friends to take home with him. It seems like, since Mateoâs reminder about Dollar Bin Night, othersâ memories have also been jogged. The bookstore definitely isnât empty when he arrives. The bin area seems a little crowded, so he meanders over to the coffee and cookies. They look homemade, and he wonders who made themâpicking one up and tasting it. Pumpkin.
Itâs nice. Reminds him of Toronto this time of year. He hasnât felt homesick for Canada in a long time. He hasnât allowed himself to, but somehow with Halloween parties and pumpkin cookies, itâs unavoidable, and so his thoughts stray that way as he stands, looking into space, and nibbling the cookie.
Mateo owed his grandfather an apology. Turns out, making that dumb post did up turn out enough it was noticable. They werenât going to have as many leftover cookies after this week as normal weeks, at least, and Mateo would count that as a win.
He was bringing the final plate of cookies to the cookie pile; a mixture of chocolate chip, oatmeal, pumpkin spice without pumpkin and pumpkin spice with pumpkin. He wasnât as into the texture of the last one, since it was much softer than he preferred, but it seemed popular enough. Good enough for a one-off.
Oh no, a person. Faihan, his memory kicks in a moment later. He was going to have to be Social and Personable and Donât Be a Grump on the Clock, Teo. âHey. Need anything? If itâs more cookies, I have them here.â
Faihan blinked back into the moment, turning to look at the...man he actually had to crane his head a little to look in the face. What was in the water on this island? And how come it hadnât worked on him, too? Five? Six inches? He couldnât quite tell, except that the difference was substantial. He swallowed thickly, finishing his cookie, and immediately worried that there might be crumbs on his face, but not wanting to look like a little kid by wiping at his mouth.
He felt like a little kid, if only because he felt little. The only plus was that while it was clear Mateo worked out, he had a similar body type, so at least he wasnât hulking over Faihan. But he was really tall.
I need you at least two of the inches you were blessed with, he thought with a sigh and turned his attention on the fresh plate of cookies.
âWho made all these?â he asked. âI like the hint of salt in the pumpkin one.â
Mateo hesitated a moment before replying, âMy grandfather.â It was partially true, but he wasnât the one finding pumpkin spice in the grocery store and googling recipes for ideas. If it had been up to Lito, all theyâd have were oatmeal raisin cookies. âHe thought itâd be more inviting if we offered snacks and drinks.â
âIs the texture on those okay? They feel more like a cake to me.â Faihan knew about baking, of course. Mateo figured if he liked a hint of salt, that was about as much of a compliment he could expect on homemade cookies from someone who didnât (openly) bake.
âFood isâŠâ Faihan started and stopped. It was a kind of language, he thought. He wondered if that was too sentimental to say to a stranger. But eating was always better when it was a communal activity. Often, he had made himself dinner at AzĂșcar (because the kitchen was much better than his tiny one at home) and taken it to the beach, because he hadnât had anyone to share it with, but going somewhere public at least made it feel a little more like he was eating with someone. His mother had always, though very busy herself, made time to cook them dinner; and when it was dinner time, they had all made time to sit together and enjoy it.
Food always made a space feel more welcome.
But he thought if he got started philosophizing about food, he would wind up talking Mateoâs ear off. And probably still not quite put his finger on what exactly it meant to him; why it had become so important for himâŠ
âThe texture is good. I like soft cookies, and I think...pumpkin lends itself better to that texture than crispy.â He rubbed his fingers on his jeans and then held out a hand. âI donât think Iâve ever been properly, you know⊠Faihan.â
âMateo.â He shook the offered hand and pretended he wasnât fully aware of who Faihan was. Well, fully in the sense he owned a bakery and it was delicious. What more was needed? âNice to meet you properly.â He guessed.
But now it was awkward and Mateo wasnât great at that, and he didnât have the dogs to act as an excuse to either draw attention and be adorable or as an excuse to leave. He resorted back to work. âHave you found everything you needed? If itâs more cookies, I am the most prepared. More coffee is incoming once the water heats up. Books, well.â He motioned around him. âThereâs probably something here.â
âOh, Iâm good,â Faihan said, looking around. âI donât really drink coffee. I usually try to be in bed by 10âŠâ He hadnât been doing it as much lately, but it was still always his goal. âYou were telling me about The Hobbit before. Do you think you could point me to where that is?â Probably it was unnecessary. Most likely the book was just in the fantasy section, but he felt like heâd somehow missed the moment where they could gracefully part ways, and so now Faihan, an introvert, felt compelled to continue the conversation until it felt organic to wander off...which, of course, probably meant that this was about to get a lot more awkward.
He braced himself.
âAre you...experiencing any of that stuff? The dreams and memories and everything?â
âSure. Follow me,â Mateo said. He left the cookies in the cookie area and headed towards the fantasy section of the bookstore. âWe have a few versions of it available, and in a number of languages, so youâll have your choice from them.â
He paused a bit at that question. He had reviewed the online thing before posting and was shocked how open people were in discussing something that felt so alien and, frankly, insane. Mateo wouldâve suffered in silence, but it seemed like that was unneeded. âYeah. Fucked up, isnât it? I thought it was only me and a reaction to whatever coffee I had been drinking was messing with my imagination.â He thought about it for a moment. âYou said you didnât drink coffee, right? So itâs not a case of everyone drinking this coffee.â
Faihan laughed softly. Even though it was a bookstore and not a library, he felt like he should (though typically fairly soft-spoken by nature) speak quietly. His eyes scanned the colorful spines of the books around them, and he nodded.
âI did have a moment where I thought maybe I was losing it,â he admittedly in as light a tone as he could deliver. âIt was a relief, though...realizing that for as weird and unbelievable as all of this is...it isnât just me.â He glanced up at Mateo again. He was tall and cute, and now that they were alone between the shelves, he felt self-conscious...at the very least, he felt very short.
Even though he was a perfectly average height.
âIt did make me really nervous at first.â It still did in some ways, but he was trying to be optimistic about it. âThough I guess itâs like watching a television show. You get to know the âcharacters,â and suddenly you end up hooked⊠So I guess thatâs part of whyâŠâ He gestured to the fantasy books. âI know they wonât be like thatâŠâ Other world? Reality? He wasnât sure what it was, but⊠âIt wonât be the same, but I guess Iâm in the mood for it anyway.â
âThereâs nothing saying we arenât insane. Not quite yet.â That wasnât comforting, Mateo. Or very polite. âBut if itâs shared, unlikely.â Good save. Mateo mentally patted himself on the back for that. âIf itâs like a book ⊠I wonder if it is. Some obscure series that no one knows about but holds all the answers and whatâs going to happen.â
âHere is the Lord of the Rings section.â Mateo motioned to a shockingly large and elaborate bookshelf, with not only the books themselves, but artbooks, comics, books about the books ⊠it might have been a touch overkill, he admitted to himself. âThe Hobbit area is right here. Probably the most interesting difference is the covers, since they get released and then rereleased with different art.â
âMy sister had a theory like that when we first started experiencing it. She thought maybe weâd seen the marketing or an ad for something without realizing.â He paused, scratching one wrist and wondering if heâd said too much. âIf there was something out there that could explain all of this...whether itâs real or notâŠâ That would be a relief, at least. âWouldnât that be amazing?â
Faihan stumbled as they arrived at what really was a LOTR section. That was unexpected. He gazed in awe at the variety packing the shelf. He had known it was a big franchise, that it had been around for a long time, but he hadnât realized the wealth of material attributed to the titles. It almost seemed like a shrine, and he wasnât sure if he should touch anything, but after a moment, he drew an artbook free, plucking it from the books around it with a single finger.
âIt almost looks like this, doesn't it?â he said, carefully flipping through the pages. âI think...he liked stories like this. Badr, I mean. I guess they arenât âfantasyâ as for him. Maybe just fairy tales⊠What is the name of your...other self?â
âThatâs not a bad theory.â Mateo glanced around the bookstore. âToo bad thereâs too many books to go through to see if something hits the mark. And even if authors were in the habit of visiting used bookstores,â he sort of motioned with his arm at the general Everything Around Here. âNot many are coming to some small island in the middle of the ocean for it.â
Hm. âCaseo.â He paused, and then added,â Iâve just realized how similar it is to my name. Iâve never said it outloud before.â
âThatâs not like what Iâve remembered. Maybe Mordor.â Mateo leaned over and flipped the pages over to show one of the pieces of dramatic volcano on fire and dramatic tower. âBut less fire and volcanos and orcs and more technology.â
Faihan cringed. Badr had never seen a place like that in person (to his budding knowledge), but he realized that it must be the country that his alter ego was so⊠vehement about. It was kind of embarrassing, honestly, and he regretted mentioning Badr by name in that moment. Donnersberg was...well, it sounded like it was a little less of a hellscape, so it was probably fine, and honestly: technology was mostly a good thing. He wished he could show Badr all the conveniences that they were enjoying because of technology. But perhaps Badr would figure that out on his own and come around.
âI thinkâŠâ he flipped back a few chapters, to a hilly looking forested place (the Shire). â...something like this. But way more trees. Itâs very remote.â
The book looked like it was probably expensiveâwas his next thought, because he wanted it. Maybe these pictures would help free up some thought that could illuminate the situation. He had a little âfunâ money for the month. Was it a good idea to blow it all on books? Then again, what else would he use it on? (Cat toys..most likely.)
âDo you think theyâre also dreaming of us?â he asked after a moment.
âThatâs a nicer place. Idyllic, no stress. Not that my place ever feels bad. It feels âŠâ How do you describe a place felt in small bits of dreams and memories. âRough. Survival is the mother of innovation.â
âI wonder. Not so far, though. I havenât had any indication of anyone being confused over some dreams of an alien land.â Wouldnât that be surreal? Somewhat logical. Like looking into a mirror and seeing your other self in another world looking back at you.
Mateo shivered a bit at the thought. He looked in mirrors too often to want to sit on that thought for longer than a few seconds.
Faihan nodded. Badr hadnât seemed aware of him at all, not in any of the memories heâd seen so far. It seemed it was a one-way mirror between them, which left him feeling both a little relieved and a little sad. Did he want Badr to know he existed? Maybe. Except if he did, then maybe he would feel the way Faihan felt about him: that he was a hopeless case and often embarrassing. He preferred to have fewer people embarrassed about him than more, and his parents had sufficiently checked that box.
After a moment, he closed the book and randomly selected a version of The Hobbit, holding the two books to his chest.
âI know thatâŠâ he started to say, not looking at Mateo, but paused. âMine looks like me and...well, his accent is different, but he still sounds like me, too. Heâs taller than me, and his eyes are a different color, but he looks like me. Ale thinks that heâs some kind of past life, but part of me...is afraid that Iâm him, and one day Iâm going to wake up and just be him andâŠâ He stopped. It felt like too personal a worry to be sharing with someone he was only peripherally familiar with. He shook his head. âSorry, just thinking out loud. Thanks for showing me around⊠I think Iâve got what I need for now. Well, unless you have that pumpkin cookie recipe on hand.â He smiled. âThough if you donât, I should come back here moreâŠand itâll be something to look forward to next time.â
He glanced towards the counter. âIt was nice chatting with you.â