Who: Allen Schaefer and Thomas Brandon. What: Look, sometimes you have good days, and sometimes you have bad days. Sometimes you can look outside and have no clue which it's going to be. Where: Aubade 506, outside and in. When: Some time when it makes sense, in the evening of course :D Warnings: Excessive usage of the word "man."
One of the best things about living with a friend near the beach, Allen decided, was the bonfire hangouts. Not quite party level, but with just enough friends, beer and whatever else they could scrounge up to relax after a long day. Any chance he could take to do something other than serve the tons of no one who showed up at the cafe/bar was a good day indeed. As he was also a designated driver, it was only prudent he show up today. But he didn't mind.
Sure enough much later in the night, one of his drunken friends decided to try to find the bathroom without assistance and didn't return after ten minutes. With an apologetic smile on his face and dusting the sand off his pants, Allen took off to find Sir Pukes-a-lot. If he had known what he was going to find, he'd have made someone come along with him. Or stayed in bed.
One minute he was plodding along through the sand, the next he was standing on a street barefoot and freezing his toes off. "What the..." Shocked and a little frightened, it didn't take long for him to decide he needed to get to a police station and fast as that was clearly the best decision right now. He didn't think screaming and curling into a ball was a good idea. Since he was sure he was going to freeze to death if he stood outside in just jeans and a t-shirt, running was going to be key.
Or so he thought.
Instead of the brisk pace he thought he was going to make, Allen took off more like a gunshot, racing at inhuman speeds and turning the rest of the world into a massive blur. Maybe to someone else with a lot more practice in such an ability, this wouldn't be so terrifying. Allen was massively freaking out, so it didn't take long for him and his ability to go haywire and run up a nearby building before he somehow figured out how to stop. Unfortunately that moment was just before the rooftop, leaving him clinging to an ugly stone gargoyle, swinging and screaming. "DUDE THIS IS NOT COOL, SOMEONE HELP!" he shouted.
Thomas took the opportunity to visit Aubade in the absolute black of early, early morning, when he was at his best. He had taken the high road, over the roofs, and avoided the stubborn press still camped out in vans at the risk of implicating himself, because he wasn't wearing a mask. Zipped up in down-lined waterproof jacket, wet from the sporadic rains in fifty-degree weather, Thomas had scaled the building and entered his apartment only to nearly collide with a large, glittering tree that had not been there two weeks before. Silently muttering about Alfie and her good intentions, Thomas had been about to finish a premises check when he heard the caterwauling outside his window.
Moving silent but fast around the damn greenery, Thomas squinted out the window. His eyes widened in the reflection, and then he hauled the window open and leaned out on the casing. A jumper, he was sure. There wasn't any other reason the boy would be so ridiculously dressed. He was just out of reach, and Thomas' head and shoulders exited the window. "Don't let go," he ordered.
Allen had been screaming for about a good ten minutes, worrying no one would see him and he'd splat a bizarre untimely death when he heard the command from nearby. Struggling to get a better grip, he turned his head just slightly to the guy leaning out his window. "Wasn't part of the plan, man!" he yelled back, his feet wiggling freely in the air.
"Stop flailing your feet, you're making it harder on your hands. Pull up with your arms and your shoulders instead of your fingers." Thomas had a steon, flat voice, even when he was angry, and it certainly wasn't possible to tell that he was at all alarmed by the situation. It started to rain again (perfect timing) and Thomas bent to exit the window painfully, the bullet from the warehouse still much more than a memory down the length of his back. He slid out into the wet, still in his jacket, and turned to find familiar handholds that would take him above the gargoyle.
Thomas ignored this entirely obvious question, using his palms pressed up against window casings and storm drains to move across an entirely flat wall as if he did it all the time. (Which he did.) At one point it looked as if he was going to fall, because his spine arched so stiffly and in the downpour it was possible to see a grimace of pain contort his face, but then he twisted, dropped, and caught the next hold. His face poured water down on Allen as he stretched a hand down. "Take my wrist, not my hand."
Watching the man as he moved, Allen wasn't sure if he was talented or just plain nuts. Maybe both. Either way at this point he wasn't going to question the sanity of the guy who's actually trying to help him. "Got it!" he replied. Looking up, he was forced to blink away the water dripping on his face before gingerly reaching for, then making a tight grip on his rescuer's wrist. Allen's other arm still clung tightly to the gargoyle.
Bracing his feet, one on a relatively large windowsill and the other on the gargoyle where it attached to the building, Thomas returned the grip with one like iron and, grimacing against his bruises, pulled Allen toward him. "Swing your foot up," he grunted, then with some alarm as he took on Allen's full weight but he still clung to the gargoyle, "let go of the wall!"
"Augh!" Allen cried out as he simultaneously let go of the wall and swung a foot up at the same time, the combination of both their forces in motion enough to pull Allen up to the safety of where the man was currently standing. His breath was still shaky but it was obvious he was grateful. "Dude, I owe you one. You don't mind if I come inside right?" He was pretty sure the guy wouldn't leave him out there but better safe than sorry at this point.
Pressing up and down rather than forward, Thomas kept his balance (practice, years and years of it) and pushed Allen into the wall until he steadied. He wondered at the attitude of the boy and reflected that it didn't sound like that of someone who just tried to kill himself. Keeping these thoughts to himself for the present, he found two more handholds and hauled himself onto the top of the building, wet gravel crunching under his thin but grip-shod shoes that were thoroughly waterproofed. He put a hand down for the boy again and hauled him onto the roof, not saying another word until they walked down a flight of stairs, dripped down a plush hallway, and stood in front of Aubade 506. Thomas, fortunately, had brought his key (he didn't want to pick the lock in front of the cameras and the boy) and he let them both in.
As they both soaked the entryway carpet, Thomas surveyed Allen with a sober, unflinching gray gaze. "Change your mind halfway down?" he asked.
For someone who just saved his life, the man appeared to have all the calm of at least ten Buddhist monks, like Allen's near death experience was just a minor inconvenience instead of the climactic scene of a horror movie like he thought it was. Taking a cue from the guy, Allen did exactly as he was told and followed him along the roof, wincing as the gravel hurt the bare soles of his feet.
They made it in where he assumed was the man's tiny mansion inside an apartment. He didn't get a chance to really look at everything inside before he was asked a really weird question. Allen scratched the top of his head. "What do you mea--OH. No way dude, it was an accident. See, I was at the beach with my brahs and chiquitas and one of 'em got all shacked somewhere so I was trying to find him and then I ended up here man. So I tried to find the cops but then I was running really fast, like when I'm in the waves but much faster. Then I ran up the side somehow and here I am. You got a towel?" By the time he finished his explanation, his teeth were chattering.
It is quite safe to say that Thomas had never been called "dude" before, and by his expression he didn't know what to make of it. Thomas stared at him after this bizarre explanation, which was supported, at least, by the surfer's swim trunks and the salt-damaged hair. "You are in Seattle." Then, without much regard for the carpet (there were housekeepers) Thomas walked over to a hall closet and took out a towel with a higher thread-count than some four-star hotel sheets. He handed it over, and then he said, "Are you from Musings?" He watched the boy's expression closely to see a response to the question, wanting honesty. Whoever heard of running up the side of a building?
Allen blinked at his statement. That was simply impossible unless...but no. That was impossible. He once heard a rumor about the portal things, but that was it. Even if it sort of explained how and why he was here, he didn't want to believe he could accidentally run from the safety of his home on the beach to the cold north of Seattle via the way of of some magical door. But this guy seemed like he knew what he was talking about, judging by his question. "I guess?" He rubbed the side of his arm. "Not really sure man, I mean I heard things but this is just crazy. I'm Allen by the way. So how do I get back?" he asked. He was still trying to figure out how he could have possibly ended up clinging to a gargoyle so high in the sky. Besides 'fantastic hallucination,' he didn't have any answers.
There were no lights on in the opulent apartment except for those of Alfie's unwelcome tree, which sparkled enthusiastically and portrayed Thomas to be a sort of grim, gray Grinch in the half-light. He was just missing the sneer--Thomas lacked most expressions on principle. "I'm Thomas Brandon." It had not been quite so long--only two years or so, at most--that Thomas had left Musings New York, and the scuttlebutt at the time had put him somewhere in France, though no one could verify his whereabouts. Because he was here, apparently. "And I am afraid the portals are only one way, Allen. Explain to me again how you... ran up the building."
The cheerfulness of the twinkling lights combined with Thomas' seriousness was such a visual oxymoron it took all of Allen's willpower not to laugh. His rescuer didn't appear to be the type to enjoy that. However, at Thomas explaining the situation of the portals, he was able to sober up fairly quickly. "Oh. Bummer," he said aloud, looking at the tree. "Bit hard to explain, dude. I was just trying to hurry over to the cops and then I just started running really fast. I didn't mean to, like this." Thinking solely about running, Allen only meant to move a small distance to prove his point. Instead he sped at an inhuman speed smack dab into a wall, leaving a dent on its surface and Allen lying on the floor in pain. "Oh maaaan," he moaned as he grabbed his forehead.
Thomas had his mouth open to respond to the explanation when Allen literally disappeared from where he had been a second before in a blur. It took Thomas' eyes a moment to realize that Allen was no longer there, and that thud had been coming from the wall to his right. It took another moment for him to realize that Allen was there on the ground on the other side of the room, and he had to look back and check and see where he had been. Hurrying over, he crouched and helped the boy sit up. "Don't do that again. Did you hit your head hard?" Frowning, Thomas watched Allen's eyes try to focus on his face, fearing concussion.
Groaning, Allen muttered a 'thank you' as Thomas righted him to a sitting position. Well that was dumb, he thought miserably to himself as his head throbbed. His genius move hurt so much, it took Allen another moment to process and respond to the other man's question. "Not as bad as getting pounded by some gnarly sets, but I think I'll live. Anyways man, it was like that, but up the wall instead. Whaddya think it means?"
"It means you're a Creation in Humanity," Thomas said gravely. He had an air of authority to him (regardless of whether o not you could see his face) and along with the authority there was a capability that sat evenly on his shoulders regardless of how sore one might be. "There's usually something... unusual that adds in once you come over. You're telling me it was a mistake?" He was satisfied with Allen's ability to focus and his apparent lack of dizziness.
"I'm a who to the what now?" Allen asked. It was clear from the genuine confusion on his face that he was very ignorant as to what happens beyond crossing a portal. Still, it was comforting to him that even though he may never see any of his friends or family again, the one person he found so far seemed knowledgeable and might help him out. "Yeah man. I was just finding my brah, well, my roommate." Roommate, aw man, this sucks. Now he was homeless. "Man, I don't even got my sandbox. You know a place I can crash at for a while?"
"You're a Creation," Thomas said patiently. "But this is Humanity, inhabited by humans. The world is the same, except we're all mortal now." He said it like he was informing Allen that his credit might be questionable, and with no more gravity than he usually had. He frowned slightly. "Crash? I'm... sure there's some facility available." He couldn't think of one right then, not one that could safely house someone capable of running himself into mortal danger. More frowning.
Allen nodded, taking in the weight of what Thomas was saying. "Oh. Okay." He couldn't hide the look of despondence on his face at news. It wasn't as though he wanted to live forever, but save for what he heard on tv, death had never become so personal. Someday he was going to die. Woah. If he was right though, Allen was going to have to accept this fate, like the constant waves breaking on the shore. "Cool, that's great I guess. Thanks man," he smiled up at Thomas, right before his stomach started growling. "Oh man I could eat a whole cow! You got any food?" he wheedled.
Thomas had never had someone tell him it was "great" after he informed them that their time on this earth was now absolutely limited. He stood there and absorbed that outlook for a moment and then he said, slowly, "Yes; I believe we do. There... there is the kitchen." He pointed off to one side. "Try not to make a great deal of noise. I believe my... son is upstairs." There was the ever-so-briefest pause before he said 'son,' almost undetectable. "I'll introduce you in the morning."