Hazleton – a small town with a mysterious reputation. So far Seb had found nothing to support that statement. There were no fangs, no claw marks, no giant wings that would block out the sun. He was promised giant wings that would block out the sun. That was probably to get him out of his family's way. The point still stands – Seb had found nothing. Luckily, he was stubborn, so the search continued.
Seb's destination was Old Downtown. There were plenty of shops around. They had to have people there. If not as customers, then at least for sale. On second thought, that might not be legal in the States nor in Canada but that's not the point. Still, it was better than nothing.
Seb was stopped in his tracks by an explosion of color in his periphery. He turned to see what it was. It was a shop with a remarkable decoration – a mural of some kind where the colors danced like raindrops on a pond between the rays of the early morning sun. Seb's right eye started twitching and a single word slipped out, "Choices."
The shop was called Living Art. That seems like a promise they can't keep. Now that Seb had stopped, he figured he might as well go in and see if there was anyone of interest in there. Not the owner. Seb didn't have time for shopping. He was on the lookout for a much better commodity – a test subject. As long as they are supernatural. Humans can fuck off.
Outside, the world buzzed and blazed onward but inside the shop, silence reigned. Wen's eyes were closed as he sat at his stool, his hands on either side of a clay sculpture he'd been working on. The paint had been meticulously brushed to create an almost lifelike sculpture and it did appear uncannily like a robot that Wen had once been... ah... rather close to. Much of his work reflected that robot, if not in appearance than in abstract ways that only Wen could fathom. Some secrets were best kept to oneself, he had learned this very early on in life.
Living Art... It was not his shop; at the moment, Wen was merely renting a space from them from which he could attempt to sell some of his work. Artwork had once been a passion of his but it was one that came and went. What he hoped to accomplish through this form of self expression was to showcase work--and then make money so that he could pursue his real line of work. Robotics. Why he always went back that way, even he could not express, not even through art forms of varying methods.
Slowly, Wen opened his eyes, hearing the door open to the shop. Wen's little room was off to the side but it lacked a door and all Wen had to do was bend over slightly to get a view of the new customer or art aficionado. Having forgotten to tie his long, black hair back, Wen absently tucked a stray strand behind his ear, leaving a light streak of pale blue paint behind. The man who had entered might have been a work of art himself, although Wen would not admit it to himself. Quickly, sensing that his presence might be noticed, Wen turned back to his sculpture and--he accidentally ruined the delicate eye he'd been working on by sweeping a long line of pale red across his temple.
Immediately, he stood and went for more paint to cover his mistake. Then he remembered he was supposed to greet people when the others weren't present.
"Welcome to Living Art," he added before going back to his rummaging for the right tube of color.
Art stores are not for people like Seb. While rich people belong there, they need a level of snobbery that he doesn't have. That was reserved for the rest of his family, except for the good brother. Seb isn't allowed to talk about him. He might show up. At least that's what he was told. But then again, he was also told not to spike the drivers with LSD and that never stopped him.
The stimulating qualities of the store were lost on Seb. He looked around, his eyes devoid of any resemblance of interest. That was until he saw the other person in the store. "Damn," he huffed under his breath. That hair on a guy was just so wrong and so right. This could be interesting. No, not going to happen. Seb was on a mission and he was going to use his upstairs head.
...
That guy has to be into hair pulling, right? There is no other purpose to having that length. Not that Seb blamed him. It's hot. Seb's let a couple of guys yank him by his curly locks when they were... and there he was back in the gutter. This wasn't helping at all. The demi-god had to find within him the focus he needed to... touch people and make weird things happen to them. This could be a problem.
The greeting from the guy managed to bring Seb back into reality. "Yep," he responded while taking a closer look at the other man. There was nothing outwardly supernatural about him. That would make things easier. Seb noticed a bit of paint on the man. Interesting. Then a thought popped into his head.
Seb walked up the guy nonchalantly invading his personal space. "So, are you this living art the name of this place is referring to? I thought there was no way this store could live up to its name, but I think I was wrong. That doesn't happen often." Most people might think this was meant as a compliment. They'd be wrong. It should be referred to as highly questionable instead. "Is this some kind of bodypainting place? Because if it is, your last customer did a shit job on your face. Your face is too pretty to deserve that kind of treatment." This was actually a compliment... probably.
Yep. That was the customer's response. Wen didn't really know what to make of it so he remained silent as he pulled out a tube of paint that matched the color he was thinking of. People were never Wen's strong suit. He preferred staying as far away from them as possible but since the others were out at lunch, that meant Wen had to be the one to try and sell off whatever the customer wanted. There were lists of prices and lists of work not to sell and work that had already been sold, there were lists of work that was still in progress. And Wen hated all the lists because lists weren't in his world of interests. In fact, even this artwork was not in his interests. He was only making a poor replica of what was really on his mind.
It was still on his mind, really--the customer seemed content to look around on his own--or so Wen thought. Wen was content with letting him work out the paintings on his own. As long as he wasn't an art thief, there was nothing to worry about. So it came as a surprise when his personal space was suddenly taken up by the other man. Wen didn't immediately look up as he processed the new words. Yep was easy to dismiss. The rest of this was... it was strange. In fact, Wen had to ruminate over the meaning of the words because he wasn't quite sure if it meant what it sounded like.
Like the robots that he so loved to work with, Wen's mind worked almost mechanically, logically. So the words sounded like a man appreciative of art but he was equating Wen himself with the artwork, as if he were an inanimate object. A painting, a sculpture. Perhaps, even, a well crafted robot. Wen finally looked up to meet the customer's gaze. The last part definitely connected as some kind of... flirting. It wasn't the first time Wen had encountered flirting, although he wasn't skilled at delivering. He raised his brows slightly, then reached up to find the paint he'd left behind and he stroked his thumb across it in an attempt to remove it. Really, it just sort of... blended it in like a smudge of warpaint.
"I do the painting," he informed the customer. There was something strange about this one, he was realizing. Now that he was in closer proximity, Wen felt something around him. An aura, perhaps. Not like other witches, though. Something else. Wen stepped back, thinking again of the comparison of himself to art. "If you came here to purchase me, you're in the wrong place."
You that feeling when you see a drop of water hanging from a faucet and you wait for it to drop for what seems like ages? Seb does. The power went out once and the rent boy was 20 minutes late. He needed some way to entertain himself. Not that it was a bad thing. It gave the demi-god time to think of a plan.
They were alone in the store. If Seb wanted, he could test out his powers on this man without any witnesses. But if he was human, there'd be no point. It was too early to give up... that's very unusual for Seb. He decided to keep at it and prod the guy for information. Maybe he'd let something slip. There was still hope. And at the worst, he'd spend some time with some good-looking company. That's always a plus.
When the guy stood up, Seb got a better look at him. He was definitely pretty. Some men don't like being told that, but he didn't seem to react to it much. It shouldn't be a bad thing. It just an inherent softness. It was true for this guy too. At the same time, it didn't match his eyes – that look was distant and calculating. It reminded Seb too much of family. But there was still more humanity in there than in any of his half-siblings.
"You... painted... that," Seb coughed. "I guess you didn't have a mirror. Well, you might be just starting. I'm being way too judgmental." Actually, he was a lot nicer than he usually was. It must be something in the air. If it's toxins from the paint, he's going to be really pissed because they shouldn't be affecting him."
The man backed away unfortunately and Seb let him, for the moment at least. "I know," he huffed, "human trafficking is illegal in the States. Wait, what do you mean the wrong place? You mean there is a right place?" Seb thought for a second but then shook his head, "Nah, I'm not going down that road. My lawyer hates me as it is."
Seb was about to say something when he noticed a strange clay model, a work in progress most likely. "Oh, what's that?" the demi-god asked as he started walking towards it. He was intrigued, to say the least. It was confusing but familiar. "Is this a human pretzel? Because I knew a guy like that. You couldn't get into a fight with him. If you told him to go fuck himself, he'd... you know," he shared. It's a problem.
"I'm Seb by the way," he added. "I'm looking for strange people in this town. You've got any recommendations?"
"On accident," he clarified. His brow lowered slightly, not liking the implication that he was somehow a lesser artist. It wasn't what he prided himself on but his work in other areas felt halted unnaturally and Wen only turned to what he could to express his frustration. What he wanted to do was knock the sculpture aside altogether and step on its face. Not that he was inherently a violent person but even the calmest storm needed an outlet when the waters began to churn.
While the name of the store could be deceiving, they did not, in fact, have a living art piece to sell (in the form of Wen or anybody else). However, Wen knew that a world like that did exist, and it existed here in Hazleton. If the man was truly curious to find this place, Wen could point him in the direction. In fact, he parted his lips to share as much but it seemed the customer thought better of his previous words. Hm. Probably covering his tracks. Did he think he was being bugged? This wasn't the kind of place people paid much attention to. In fact, Wen was somewhat surprised anybody had wandered their way inside, especially a man that looked like this one. Typically, the artist types were smaller, more inclined to strange clothing, expressive in their own ways, or people with a lot of money to burn on something unique.
Wen's gaze followed the customer's to what he described as a "human pretzel."
"It's not human." Nothing Wen created was supposed to be human and yet they all had the uncanny look of a human. Sometimes he felt like it was a self expression; he was trapped in a body like this and unable to truly pursue what had really stolen his attention. "Most people think it is."
So he couldn't blame this one for mistaking it as a human too.
"I'm Wen." And if Seb here was looking for strange people... "And I've been described under that umbrella."
Being in this environment really hammered it in for Seb that he was not an art person. He wished he could feel something but there was nothing. He looked at the clay figure and all that came to him, besides that flexible guy, was that scene from Ghost. On a side note, sex and clay do not mix. It's not a good idea.
It shouldn't be a surprise that Seb felt so little. He was a man of hard science after all. Well, he was a man of touching people and seeing how fast they lose their minds. That's basically the same thing. But he was committed. And so was the other man. Well, if Seb couldn't appreciate the art, he was going to appreciate the artist instead... and his pretty face. The demi-god needed more pretty things in his life. It made it so much better.
But this guy needed to loosen up. Seb didn't understand what just came out of his mouth. It's not a human but looks like one. What?
"Is that some kind of existential thing?" Seb asked. "Or some kind of new movement – post-humanity or something like that? It better not be a riddle because I'm not good at that. What's human and not human at the same time?"
Then it hit Seb like a bag of brick. "Oh," he smacked his forehead with his hand. "I'm so dumb. It's an art thing. I'm not supposed to get it. That's clever. You got me."
But art was the last thing of Seb's mind when Wen said something truly intriguing. He slowly turned his head towards the man, a wide smile appearing on his face as he did. This day was turning out so much better than he had hoped for.
"You don't say," Seb said as he again intruded into his new test subject's personal space. He pulled out a notepad and scribbled down Wen's name. "So, what are you then? A vampire? A werewolf? A werepire? No, that's not a thing." He thought for a second before he started snapping his finger very close to Wen's face. "A Cthulhu soul crusher?"
This seemed like just another one of Seb's overexcited word explosions and it was... but there was more. There was no doubt Wen needed to loosen up or Seb wasn't going to get much from him. So that was the plan. All the demi-god needed was a single touch and he could put a bit of a harmless relaxing agent into the man's system. Well, that's if it works on his species. So many things could happen. Seb had no idea and he loved it.
"...yes."
It was an existential thing, of a kind. There was too much at stake and far too many personal points for Wen to launch into an in-depth dissertation on what exactly he meant. Instead, he fell silent again, turning his head away slightly. Yes, a "dumb art" thing. He supposed this man truly wasn't artistically inclined or minded. Not that Wen minded. In some ways, they were more alike than he thought Seb could possibly realize.
When he next met Seb's expression, a sense of cold dread fell over him. What was that smile? What did it mean? And why was he suddenly taking notes like this was an interview? Also... all those things he named... Wen's heart leapt into his throat and he quickly slid his hand over the side of his neck and pushed his long hair back before shaking his head.
A hunter. An overly enthusiastic one, at that. After a moment, he looked back up to meet Seb's eyes.
"I am nothing, you're looking in the wrong place."
So, Seb finally had a test subject in Wen, the artist of unknown origins. He felt good about this. His human artist test subjects were a lot of fun. The demi-god would get them high and see what crazy stuff they could come up with. Nothing bad ever happened. Except for that one time, a guy thought he could fly and jumped out the window. It's fine. He was on the first floor.
Just when all the excitement was rushing through Seb's body, Wen turned into a stuck in the mud. Not literally. That would be weird. "What?" Seb huffed. "You're backtracking hard. You're just like one of my half-brothers who bragged for weeks about doing this hot model and when it turned out that my one of my half-sisters was dating the same model, he tried to make it seem like that girl wasn't that sexy at all. That's not fixing the problem, bro."
Seb sighed, all of his energy just dissipating away into the air. He put his notebook away. He looked at Wen and he felt a strange sense of protectiveness wash over him. "Don't say you're nothing," he stated. "You're are something very special in this dreary world. That's worth more than you can imagine."
And just as fast as the feeling arrived, it was gone. Seb straightened himself, his spoiled brat attitude back in full effect. "What are you doing? I've been nice. I've compliment your work. I share, and you give me nothing. Do you want more?"
Seb had no problems with sharing but he did have a problem of sharing too much. Not that he thought it was a problem. "OK, I'm a demi-god. My mother is Serket. I have too many half-siblings. I have a good brother, but we don't talk about him. I just moved here. I've slept with twins and triplets. I almost got it on with quadruplets but one of them suddenly decided he was straight."
"Do you want me to buy your work?" Seb snapped. "Because I'll do that. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do that." Frustrating test subjects are the worst. Wen was lucky he was pretty.
Whoa.
Wen didn't even know how to process all the words that suddenly came at him. As soon as one group of words came at him and he tried to digest them, there were new ones. See had a lot to say, it seemed, and with each tirade, his personality seemed to change along with him. At first he seemed like an affable and curious person. Now he seemed frustrated, then outright irritated with Wen.
What did he want with him? It was as if Wen had outright denied him something and all he'd said was that he was nothing. Nothing special. Nothing of note, nothing worth taking notes on. Wen was never the type of person to be forthcoming about his life. He kept things private and he was quiet, living in his own little world inside his head. Then people like Seb broke the bubble and it left Wen reeling.
Was he angry that he'd said he was nothing because he knew that he was not human? Was that the problem? Wen blinked once, then turned his gaze on the pretzel that was not human but human at the same time.
"I'm a witch. Is that what you wanted?"
OK. This didn't have to be a complete waste. Seb could still... buy some fucking art supplies! What the hell would he do with it? He doesn't know what to do with them. The demi-god doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. Well, he's had some artist's bone in him but that's not the point. No, Seb had to remain focused. This town had been an abysmal failure so far but there was still hope. He could always release a plague on Hazleton and see the mass panic that ensues... That's a bit much.
And then the day was saved by the pretty test subject called Wen. Seb has been known to take things to a different level, a weird level. Running around the store hooting and hollering like an even more insane version of himself was what Seb went for. "I knew it! I finally got one!"
Seb ran back to Wen. He felt like a kid again. "We are going to have a party! We're going to get drunk!" Those were not the words a child should be saying. "Well, you're getting drunk. Alcohol doesn't work on me. I'm going to call those strippers from Montreal and have them here before nightfall. Not Louis though. He charges by the inch. I'm not having that. It's not a sound business practice."
"Wait, no!" Seb stopped himself. The party planning could wait. Work came first and then the fun. "Wen, you're going to have the best day ever."
Seb grabbed Wen's hand, "Relax, don't do it. When- Nope, not doing that. That's not a current reference." Now the demi-god had a chance to do what he had before - a small amount of experimental relaxant to help his new witch test subject relax both his mind and body. That's if it works on witches. The suspense is unbearable.
He almost smiled. Not out of actual amusement but out of some kind of wry cousin to it.
"How do you know it works on me?" he asked, of alcohol. Although that was curious. Why did alcohol not work on Seb? Wen studied him for a moment, taking in what appeared to be a human form or vessel but there was definitely something deep and ancient about him. Perhaps a spell or a curse. Perhaps the man himself. There was something about the personality that didn't seem to align with the idea of ancient that Wen had formed in his head. Ancient to him always seemed stoic and calm. This was... the opposite of that.
Strippers? No. Wen wanted nothing to do with strippers. He had a difficult enough time navigating the world of people in a normal capacity. He didn't want to spend any time with any strippers. Especially not any named Louis, although he didn't know why the male name alarmed him. The robot that Wen had once loved had been in the shape of a human male. But the difference was, Wen controlled that robot. He could predict that robot. He could logic with it. Reason with it. Humans. People. Whatever Seb was. They weren't so easily controlled.
Wen didn't like that unpredictability.
Before he could say that he had work to do and he had to watch the shop or make whatever feeble excuse he could make to weasel out of a party with Seb and his friends, Seb grabbed his hand.
Electricity. A shock, at first. The sensation of skin against skin. Wen nearly closed his eyes. Something felt strange, as if a current thread of magic was winding its way through his bones, skin, muscle, spreading out and making him feel heavy and dizzy and unsteady on his feet. Blinking back the feeling, Wen stumbled a step and then shook his head as if to push the strange feeling back. He tried to take his hand back, not fully aware that it might have been the contact responsible for his current state.
"I'm sorry..." he said faintly. "I don't... I don't think now is a... a good time..."
Wen had a point. Seb shouldn't assume a witch can get drunk. He knew nothing about witches. He'd seen Hocus Pocus and Charmed but those didn't seem like accurate portrayals of magic users. He might have to make a list. It'll be boring as hell. He'd much rather just get some witches together and test out what works and what doesn't. They might not apricated being dunked in water though. Seb could always brand it as a wet t-shirt contest. Witches Gone Wild or something like that. And he won't feel like a perv because he'll only get dudes involved.
Wen also seemed to be having a very strong reaction to the relaxant. Fascinating. It's usually not that potent. Seb had to make a note of it... but if he let go of Wen, he might fall. If the man ruins his pretty face, the demi-god will never forgive himself. Well, he will but he'd feel bad.
Seb stretched out his free hand for a chair and put it behind Wen so he could sit down. When he did, the demi-god let go and took out his notebook. He quickly jotted down what had happened and Wen's reaction. When he was done, Seb crouched down slightly so he could get a better look at the man. He gently placed his fingers under Wen's chin and guided the man to look at him.
"You'll be fine," Seb said, his tone expressing a surprising amount of concern, enough for even him to notice. He tried to shake it off as he continued walking Wen through this, "It usually doesn't work like this. It's supposed to help people relax, feel free. But that's with humans. With witches it's stronger, I guess. Sorry about that."
OK, so now Seb was apologizing. That never happens. He's said it may be a few dozen times in his life if that and never to a test subject.
"I'm not going to try anything else now. I don't want to do anything that might make you start some magical mayhem. It would be fun but... you know." He hoped Wen knew but Seb didn't. This wasn't normal for him. Seb never cared this much about his test subjects. He should just leave and let the other man work through it on his own.
It's just that when Seb looked at Wen, he saw something eerily familiar in the witch's eyes – loneliness. Even in this new town filled with all these people, Seb still felt like he had at home. An unwanted failure. A distraction. A burden. A problem. The last one was absolutely warranted but who was there to stop him. His siblings barely spent time with him, only as much as they had to. No nanny or maid could stop a kid whose touch can knock them out cold. Seb just had to make it work. There was nothing else.
Damn, this was getting too deep. Seb needed a change of pace... and he was going to do that once Wen got his strength back. "I like your human pretzel, FYI... It's cool," the words just slipped out. Seb was going to not say anything else now... probably.
why... w h y. . . did he feel so faint? Or... floaty, was more like it. The sensation was not unlike that pleasant, most heavenly tingle just before he fell into the welcoming arms of sleep. Regarding sleep: Wen hadn't slept well in a long time. A very long time. He mostly nodded off for an hour here or an hour there and then he was working on something else. Sometimes, when he committed himself to his real love--his real work--then he was almost unstoppable until he was satisfied with what he created.
Yes, he could be rather one-track-minded in that way.
He nodded sleepily at Seb's words, leaning slightly toward the left in his chair but quickly righting himself. He slid a hand under his chin and tried to look back at Seb as if nothing strange had happened. Of course, they both knew that to be a lie. It was obvious to him now that Seb had something to do with this. He'd touched him and made him go all... Unstable. No, that wasn't the right word. Dreamy? Maybe. He did feel rather as if he were in a dream.
"It's not all witches," he decided to inform Seb after a moment, aware of the hand on his chin and the way their eyes were meeting just so. "I'm... sensitive."
There were witches with strong innate shields and there were witches that were susceptible to anything that came their way. Unfortunately, it seemed that Seb had discovered that Wen was the latter.
Who? He wanted to ask--who was he really? How? How did he do it? Was it permanent? Of course not. But the contact continuing between them kept a sort of magical aura connected. It was a bit like a pleasant hum against his chin, where Seb's hand made contact. Wen closed his eyes and let his head fall forward slightly, toward Seb.
"It's me. Me and... somebody else."
This was strange. Nothing like this had ever happened to Seb. It was just the reaction Wen was having. Something was affecting the demi-god too. Maybe it was something to do with a witch's physiology. They could have an inherent defense system. But in that case, shouldn't Seb be the one dangling between consciousness and unconsciousness? He felt something different, something alarming. And then he realized it. It was the worst possible thing that could happen. It was empathy.
Seb wanted to throw up. He couldn't. He had to make sure Wen was taken care of. Damn it! There it was again. Empathy was for the weak and poor. When your touch can heal any illness, you can't pass it around like it's nothing. It was special. The family was special. They were divine. The powers that were passed down to them from Serket were a gift, a valuable git. It wasn't meant to be free. At least that's what Seb was told. It made sense... most of the time.
"Oh," Seb replied, "Noted for next time. Not that... just, yeah." He felt kind of bad now. If Seb had known Wen was sensitive, he would have given him an even smaller dose... or maybe not done it at all. Nope, that damn empathy was trying to hinder scientific progress.
The only good thing about this was that Wen seemed to be relaxing into all of this... or he was too out of it to do anything else. Seb was going to pick the first option to quell those annoying caring feelings he was experiencing. He also tried to keep the other man steady, so he wouldn't tumble to the floor. It wasn't that hard. Seb had the strength of a demi-god after all. He kind of wanted to brag but now wasn't the time.
Oh, Seb wished he hadn't heard those words. It wasn't fair. It wasn't the right moment for this. In Wen's current state, he might reveal things he doesn't want out in the world. The problem was Seb was a nosy bastard and if the statue represented what he thought it did, this story could be hot. That's even harder to resist.
"Um," Seb thought about how to best put this. He glanced at the figure one more time and then said, "Is it your boyfriend?"
Magic was power. Magic was in the air, magic was threads, magic was tangles and knots of power, strung from one power source to the next. This was how Wen perceived magic. Magic was wires. Magic was cords. Magic was electricity. Magic was every element and magic could do things to people that were both amazing and horrific.
It was no lie to say that Wen was sensitive to magic. Not all witches would be so affected by the power of Seb's magic but... he thought perhaps... they could be--because he was beginning to realize that it was strong. It was a magic unlike anything he'd ever been in contact with. Maybe it was all witches. Maybe Wen was not so... special.
But he was still sensitive and he was having a hard time summoning the will to put up a ward.
He needed one; he felt uninhibited right now--as if he had a few too many drinks. Wen never was good at holding his liquor. Didn't even care for most of it, if he was honest.
At the question of whether the pretzel was meant to be his boyfriend, he smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. His eyes softened. His boyfriend. The term brought with it an unusual feeling of warmth and stability he hadn't felt in some time. He had been blocking away those emotions, trying to become the very thing that so-called boyfriend had been.
"Most wouldn't use that term," he said softly. "Humans are cruel. Chaotic. Innately, they seem to fear what they don't understand themselves."
Little by little, Seb saw Wen's guarded exterior get chipped away. He wasn't supposed to be seeing this. This wasn't his experience. Then again, Seb couldn't resist it. He'd never seen anyone react to his powers like this. Watching Wen's whole person peeling open was mesmerizing. Usually, people just snapped open and it all just poured out. Metaphorically, of course – it never gets that gross.
Seb wanted to tell Wen he should smile more. It suited him... or maybe that hint of happiness did. It wasn't all there and that was pretty obvious even for someone as emotionally stunted as Seb. Perhaps it was because, for the first time in his life, the demi-god was having a real human connection with someone. A someone he drugged but still a someone.
"You're right about that. And it's not just humans," Seb added. He had to look no further than his own family to see it. "But I don't think they are afraid of that, not really. It's the knowledge of the strange and unknown. Most people can't handle change but when it affects their whole way of being, their understanding of the fundamental principles of life it's even worse. They'd rather go on hiding behind ignorance than try to learn and adapt."
Oh, god – this talk was getting too real and existential. Seb was all about oversharing inappropriate details of his and other people's lives. This was... too much for him to handle at this point. His severe emotional trauma was there to make sure he didn't get too deep and start figuring out what his life is really about. And yes, the irony of the situation was completely lost on him.
Seb retreated back into the safe space of nosiness. Unlike other people, he was all about draining hidden secrets from the people around him. They only added to his life... even if Wen it might add shame and embarrassment, it will still add something.
"So, what did they call him instead?" Seb asked. Wen might start sobering up soon, so it was vital to get as much out of him as possible. The demi-god can never have too much gossip.
"...no," he agreed softly. "Not just humans..."
There were plenty of non-humans in his life that held the same stares when they realized what was really going on in Wen's studio. They didn't understand--of course they didn't. Somewhere in their broken minds, they thought it was Wen that was broken. He was now, stripped from what he loved. But he didn't think they would ever understand what it was to love something with purity. There was always that innate cruelty in people.
They may not have understood but they didn't want to because--this was what Wen thought--they were afraid of what it meant for them. People, they seemed to do that a lot, in Wen's observation. Remaining a quiet artist in the corner of a little shop meant that she spent a lot of time simply observing. And people, yes, they did do that a lot--they always brought things back to themselves. What did it mean for them?
It didn't matter if what was happening never touched their lives. It didn't matter that it could have remained a secret behind closed doors and nobody would have been the wiser. People would have treated Wen kindly, as they had always done. Now they looked at him with disgust and disbelief and distrust.
What did they call him? Not boyfriend. At least, not in any way that didn't sound condescending or as if it had invisible quotes around the term. His little "boyfriend."
"The machine," he said. "The toy. The robot."
Not a proper person, not anything but a tool, they thought. And when they looked at Wen, it brought such misunderstanding that he could hardly stand being around people anymore.
The longer Seb held on to Wen, the more he felt something unusual. No, it wasn't a frustrating feeling of empathy. This was more energetic. No, that's not the right word. Booming, maybe. A vibration from within the other man coursing out into the demi-god. It might be magic. It might be Wen's subconscious trying to protect him. It could be anything. That's what Seb loved about this. There was no precedent.
If this was any other test subject, Seb would be over the moon. The things he could do. The things he would do. Something was stopping him from letting go and exploring the unknown in front of him. Now, this might be that annoying empathy. Besides, Wen was sharing. It was too good to stop now.
At first, Seb wasn't sure he heard that correctly. He's called plenty of guys 'toys' when they are good for only that one thing. Wen didn't seem to be such a dehumanizing person to do that. What if...?
"Did you build a sex robot?" Seb asked. It slipped out. He tried to hold back. No, that's a lie. He was diving head first into this. What the demi-god couldn't figure out was why this was so bad? He knows about these things – phallic objects attached to a repetitively rotating machine. He may have used one once. Still, it wasn't weird. But what if...?
"Did you build a humanoid sex robot?" Yeah, Seb was going all in. "Yes! Yes!" There was no stopping him now. "This is the best thing I've ever heard. I do hope you remember this, Wen. You are amazing. Your genius surpasses everything! You couldn't get what you wanted so you made it instead. I'm a half-god but in this room, you are the real deity. Creating life. You don't just accept any D, you make the one you want. I just can't! I can't even! This is what I need in my life – people like you." He was this close to doing a gat finger-wag but managed to contain his homosexuality.
Seb sighed, "Damn, now I feel really guilty about drugging you. I think I can sober you up... or knock you out for a good night sleep. What would make us cool?" He really hoped Wen could understand him. Seb really wanted to have someone who made a robot boyfriend as a ... friend. Yep, that's the word.
With the words ejected so earnestly and almost eagerly, Wen was caught off guard. Even in his current state, his mind scrambled, caught between shame and curiosity.
When people discovered what he had done, there was so much disgust. They used the same terms that Seb did, along with toy, machine: sex robot. Humanoid sex robot. Wen felt the back of his neck heat up. The warmth crept up the tip of his ears and he finally lowered his gaze, the squirm of shame taking root once more.
To Wen, the robot had been a companion, a best friend, a boyfriend, a lover. Scraping him down to merely a sex bot made even Wen feel gross for what he'd done. Yet he still felt he hadn't been in the wrong. It was everybody else that knew his filthy secret. They weren't many but there were enough of them for Wen to withdraw further from society than he had already been before.
Seb sounded absolutely impressed, however. Strange. Wen only slightly lifted his head, eyes angling to glimpse him out of the corners. Why was he so... happy? It was strange to see somebody crowing about his "accomplishments" when most would have been concerned that Wen was some kind of a pervert.
"...who could be more perfect?" he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "Than somebody you made yourself?"
Because who else could meet every criteria and every need and every desire than a creation that he'd made himself? Wen smiled, small and flittering, a "blink and you'll miss it" affair. Finally.... somebody who understood.
There were so many things Seb wanted to know. What was this robot guy made of? Was it an accident? Was magic involved? Was it just a vanilla model or was it customized for some kinky stuff? And was the robot into hair-pulling? That was mainly for Wen's sake. At the same time, these details were important. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they approach their passion. This was clearly it. Wen was more of a god and more of a scientist that Seb ever was... or ever could be.
It should hurt. Looking at someone who's a perfect version of you. Or they are close enough. But it didn't. It was... amazing. Under all the bravado, there was a foolish man who knew his limitations. That man saw Wen as something special. This wasn't about empathy. It was a genuine human connection that had happened here. It was that smile. Seb knew he saw it. It was there. Just for a moment. But it looked so real, so right.
Seb's family wouldn't be happy about this. If you know someone is stronger than you, you don't let go. You twist them to fit your needs. Seb didn't want to do that. Wen was like a porcelain figurine, cracked but still standing. Too much movement would shatter it. Seb couldn't allow that. He wasn't used to this. This feeling. Is this what happens when you find someone you genuinely enjoy? It wasn't love. That's too weird. It was better than that. It was just good. There wasn't a lot of that in the demi-god's life. Now he wished there was.
There was little doubt that this experiment was successful and the best thing to do was to end it, if just for Wen's sake. "OK, here's what we are going to do. I'm going to sober you up now. Um... the last time I did this after an experiment, it didn't go well for me. So, just if it works, leave me in the corner. I'll wake up eventually."
The sucky thing about this was that Seb didn't know how Wen's organism would react to him breaking up the substance in his system. That's why this was the only option. It wasn't difficult to pull it back. But there was more. Something was following it back into the demi-god. Strong energy. A surge building from Wen's skin.
Without warning, Seb was slammed into the nearest wall. A faint blue light emanated from the hand he had been using to hold Wen. "Damn," Seb coughed, barely able to catch his breath. It hurt. He didn't mind. "Subconscious magical defenses." Through some struggle, Seb raised his hand and gave a thumbs-up. "You're awesome, Wen." With that, he slumped over to his side... and started snoring quite loudly.
Nothing more about him? If Seb had questions, he wasn't asking them aloud but there was a strange feeling where their skin met, like there was more than even he knew was going on between them. Strange. Wen didn't normally feel much at all for other people. He just tolerated them, a little like cats, actually. They were around and occasionally he needed them for something but for the most part, he ignored them and they ignored him.
"...what?" Confusion crossed his face. Sober him up? Was he not sober? Wen blinked slowly. Perhaps not but he didn't recall drinking anything. Perhaps it was... paint fumes. No, perhaps it was...
Magic. Wen's body responded violently to what it considered a breach of its system. Even he could feel the magic snapping at Seb like a massive rubber band pulled taut. Then Seb was physically thrown against the wall and Wen's body went rigid for a long moment before he took in a deep, gasping breath and stumbled up to stand. There was a strong energy still bouncing around inside of him and it made him feel like he'd overdosed on adrenaline.
Wen knocked over a nearby easel, staring as Seb gave him a thumbs up and then promptly fell asleep. With his head swimming, Wen stumbled to the closest wall and leaned against it, closing his eyes tight. When he opened them again, Seb was still there, snoring as if he had fallen deeply asleep.
What... just happened? Wen looked around, half expecting the shop to be mess. Other than a few things out of place, it seemed fine. They hadn't been robbed. Wen ran both hands over his face and took a few deep breaths. He had no idea what to do with Seb. He couldn't leave him there, he supposed. But he wasn't bringing him home.
After a moment, Wen moved over to him, waving a hand over his face to make sure he was breathing. Then he sighed and curled his hands under Seb's upper arms so he could drag him over to the futon in the back room. Art took time to make and sometimes there was no time for them to go home. With some difficulty, Wen eventually got Seb onto the futon. Strange how a man like that could look no more innocent than a child when he slept. It was probably the deception of his lashes and his tumble of dark hair. Wen shook his head and then slowly backed out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Once he was alone, he wrapped his arms around himself.
What happened?
He didn't have full memory of their encounter. But there was something untoward in there. Magic or... drugs or something. Wen frowned, then went straight for the mini fridge, where he pulled out a cold bottle of water.
What the hell just happened? Everything hurts... but not really. More soreness than anything. Seb remembered flashes. There was Wen – the one with the robot boyfriend – and then there was a bang. That was probably Seb hitting something. And then nothing. Now he's on a futon. This was like the time he was at an all-male frat party... except he was naked... and he remembered everything. Fun times.
Seb turned and faceplanted into the floor. "Ow," he said almost deadpan. He pushed himself up. It wasn't easy. His legs felt like jelly. His body felt like jam. His head felt like a split open watermelon. None of it was good. What the hell did he put in Wen? This wasn't supposed to be this strong. And why the hell did Seb have the sudden urge to share traumatic childhood instances? He needed to leave before he started sharing some shit.
Wen was nearby so Seb had to try to sneak out. Now that he was sober he might not be too happy with what happened. Despite his problematic feet, he managed to leave. Seb was sure he wasn't supposed to be in this room. He opened the door and leaned out. Wen wasn't looking in this direction. Good. He dashed – or rather waddled – to the counter.
Seb couldn't just leave. He took out his checkbook and wrote a 10,000-dollar check. He didn't give a fuck. His family could afford it. Those self-obsessed, tyrannical psychopaths. In addition, he added his business card. Luckily there was a paper and pen in arm's reach, so he could also leave a note.
Wen,
So, stuff happened and I'm sorry about it. I should have had you sign a release. Anyway, I feel bad about it and I'm not going to tell anyone about your robot lover even though it's the best thing that I've ever heard. I just wanted you to know that you are not the problem. Fuck other people! You are awesome. Don't let them make you feel less than you are just because they are afraid of your greatness.
Seb
PS. Call me. We'll hang out. Get coffee. Talk about robot boys. It'll be great.
Seb left the note with everything else. He sneaked to the exit but before he left, the demi-god yelled, "Love your hair. Hope you win." He had no idea what it meant but it seemed appropriate. And with that Seb was gone. Whether Wen would be his test subject or something else, only time would tell. Nah, this totally the start of beautiful, and slightly messed up friendship... whether Wen wanted it or not.
The quiet was back. Seb slept and Wen pulled out a sketchbook, abandoning his current work with the sculptures. When he had drawn the strange man to memory, he closed the sketchbook and looked out the window for a long moment, nursing his cold water. He only looked back over at Seb once more before he sighed, raised his arms above his head, and went back to work with the sculptures.
Whenever Seb woke up, he was so silent about it that not even Wen heard, and he was usually pretty observant about these things. In fact, he didn't realize Seb was even lurching about the shop until he heard a sudden shout. Startled, Wen jumped and jabbed accidentally at his sculpture. Heart thumping, Wen looked up, and then around. He stood, looking for the source of the familiar voice.
It sounded like he had left the shop. Yes, he must have. The bell that rung when people entered and left went off but once Wen arrived, he was just... gone.
Wen blinked, idly toying with his hair. What did he hope he won? Puzzled, Wen turned away, then found that there were a few extra things on the counter. A hefty check. A business card. A letter. Wen briefly pursed his lips before he drew the letter closer to inspect and read it. Then he looked at the card with the number on it. He didn't know what kind of person Seb thought he was but Wen wasn't the type to go around calling weird strangers... especially those with an uncanny ability to extract the story of his "robot boyfriend" from him.
Swallowing hard, Wen hurried over to the old cloth bag slumped down by his art space and he thrust everything into the bag, plus some of his supplies and his sketchbook. Then he slid it over his shoulder and turned the shop sign so that CLOSED faced outside the window.
He promised to watch the shop today but he had more important things to do now.
( Queen HaloQ I think this thread is done but let me know when you want to follow up!)