"Lucas…" Keith said, his heart aching.
"I'm just a shadow. Memory and spirit clinging onto reality with tooth and claw so I don't become a mindless monster like the other Terrors." That's what happened to a ghost that lost itself, after all. They'd both seen that first-hand.
Keith sought for something to say, but Lucas continued, his brows furrowed. "Hiraeth might like me, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be welcomed into his entire family. … and that all aside, you know how they feel about other things going into the vessels they've claimed as their bodies. Just, like, major taboo. So yeah, the fact I possess him sometimes so we can bang you together is gonna… well. They're gonna wonder how we do it, and you know most Others are gonna find that real freaky."
Trying not to get distracted thinking too hard about the times they'd banged him together, Keith did his best to focus on the actual problem at hand. "It's still probably better than being just some kind of human loser," he stammered. "At least ghosts are literally as close as humans can get to being Others and… you know, understanding the whole body-as-Vessel thing. I'm just some guy—"
"With psychic powers that let you experience the world a bit like the way they do, yeah—?"
"With PTSD and anxiety—"
"—who is alive—"
"Boys," Hiraeth's light, lilting voice said from behind them. "I think you're both pretty."
Keith jumped, and they turned as one to see Hiraeth, the Horned Boy, standing behind them with a bag of takeout in his hand.
As always, he was a gorgeous enough sight that even with the current mood hanging over them, Keith's stomach gave an almost involuntary flop. Hiraeth was pale, with platinum hair that he'd let down from its customary ponytail to fall around his shoulders, his silver eyes reflecting the streetlights like a cat's—or, well, like a deer.
Because that much alone would be enough to captivate even the humans who couldn't see the rest: his antlers, which he'd shed for the winter, regrowing and beginning to branch to their usual, tree-like shape—if only just—and covered with soft velvet that Keith hadn't been able to keep his hands off of lately.
Hiraeth huffed a breath of air inelegantly upward to flip some of his hair out of his eyes. "Going to stand on my step arguing all night over which of you is more tragic, sweethearts, or shall we head around back together?"
"Uhhh," Keith said. "I. Actually. Yeah don't think we need to keep arguing."
"It's me," Lucas said with faux good cheer.
"Yeah, it's definitely Lucas," Keith agreed.
Hiraeth laughed at that, juggling his dinner and keys as he led the way around behind the shop. The back door opened to the narrow wooden stairs leading up to the small studio apartment over his store.
Keith felt his shoulders relax as they entered, the familiar scent of wet leaves mingling with a fresher smell that he identified as Hiraeth's springtime scent. He kicked his shoes off, wandering over to Hiraeth's bed and taking a seat there so Hiraeth could use the desk as a table for his meal. Lucas leaned against the desk, watching them both.
Hiraeth unpacked his dinner—Tibetan Kitchen, from the logo stamped on the bag—and slid into his seat, reaching up in a successful demand that Lucas high five him. Lucas didn't bother to hide his smile as Hiraeth's hand passed through his.
"How were your parents?" Hiraeth asked, already digging in.
Keith flopped back onto Hiraeth's bed, breathing in the scent with a little thrill. "Same as always. Overly worried about me 'seeing things' or keeping to myself. I guess not entirely without reason, but…"
"But the things you see are actually there," Hiraeth provided. "That's rough to deal with. For Lucas too," he added, glancing up to where Lucas wasn't making eye contact any more.
Lucas shrugged. "I'm resigned about it, yeah? Keith went to my funeral and I don't think any of my own family could see me then. Doesn't much matter if his don't see me at dinner." His good humor had clearly dried up, tone a bit dull, but at the stricken look that Keith felt cross his own face, Lucas managed a grin. "But enough of that. Back to an entire family who can see me. Your son's coming to visit?"
Hiraeth, whose expression had also grown pained, seized on that change of topic. "One of them, yes," he said. "He's mostly stag, like me—a little more branchy, his mother's all leaf, but we're pretty closely aligned." His hands danced around to illustrate his point, thumbs and fingers making a second set of antlers from his head.
"I didn't think…" Keith hesitated. "I mean…"
"We wouldn't have called you for the child-rearing sort," Lucas said, when it became clear that Keith wasn't going to finish his sentence.
That was something of an understatement, Keith thought. Hiraeth was a genuinely good and kind person, but he was flighty and stubborn and emotional. And however many centuries old he actually was, he always seemed to be Keith's peer in terms of maturity. Keith sure couldn't imagine raising a child right now.
Hiraeth wrinkled his nose at both of them, taking another big mouthful of food and chewing it loudly with his flat teeth before continuing, as if to punish them for their assumption. "I don't know that he'd say I was much good at it, but we grow up fast."
A bit embarrassed, Keith mumbled, "That part aside, just, how? You already told me that Others are travelling souls who take over vessels you find and… convert them into actual bodies somehow. Flowers or bones or…" In all honesty, he didn't know if the deer would have been alive or dead when Hiraeth moved in and reshaped it.
"Where do you think those souls come from?" Hiraeth asked lightly. "We're low viability, for sure; something has to balance out how hard we are to permanently kill. But just as we eat and sleep and all other things, some of us can have children. Those of us who are fertility-aligned—rabbits, flowers, stags—" He winked at Keith. "—we have an easier time than others. Though, I mean, I mostly have sex for fun, as I'm sure you've noticed."
Keith blushed. "I guess, but where's the body come from for a new soul…?
"Where'd yours come from? Cells and essence slowly growing once the conditions were met. Same for us, though the way our cells and essence grow… well, it's the same thing we do when we take over a body, just put to other ends."
Keith still didn't fully get it. The connection of soul to vessel rather than having a body the way a human did… it was one part of how Others lived that he didn't understand. He knew that Hiraeth was functionally immortal—even if something happened to his body, if his soul wasn't damaged, he'd just move on until he found something else he could transform into himself.
But there were rules to it that Keith couldn't grasp, something about natures and alignment with the metaphors and symbols that their souls relied on. They couldn't just pick any vessel; it had to be one that was suitable to the type of creature they were. So there was still a bond there between vessel and soul that was intensely personal, just one that Keith couldn't grasp the way Hiraeth could—or even that Lucas could, as a disembodied ghost.
"Well… I mean, I'll take your word for it," Keith mumbled, and dragged himself forcibly back on track. "Why's he coming? Just to visit?"
Hiraeth frowned a little, chasing the last of his food around the container with his wooden chopsticks. "That's… well. He's bringing his boyfriend with him, and his boyfriend's girlfriend, as I understand it. He didn't go into too many details on the call, but something's happened to his boyfriend, some kind of curse, and he wanted to see if anything in the shop might help. I mean, I've got an awfully big collection of weird and wonderful items, so maybe."
Lucas said, "Hiraeth, my man, are you actually some kind of Otherly arms dealer?"
"I'll never talk," Hiraeth said, closing his container and grinning up at Lucas, who grinned back and flicked his nose. "No, no. I just find old items that carry some kind of aura, and pass them on to whoever will want them. Half the stuff I've got here, I'm still figuring out what it even does—if anything. As I'm quite sure Keith knows, a lot of things j
ust carry memories."
They did; antique stores were a pitfall of strong impressions. "Yeah," Keith said. He cleared his throat. "I mean, if I can help find whatever the item is—?"
Hiraeth's smile softened. He pushed his container aside on his desk and rose, padding the few steps over to the bed and flopping down next to Keith. "You'll help. I know." His hand came to Keith's cheek, fingers running down to his jaw. "You look nervous."
"That's my secret. I'm always nervous," Keith grumbled, earning himself a laugh from Lucas.
Eyes glittering, Hiraeth hooked his fingers behind Keith's neck, tugging him a little closer. "Let me distract you. You don't have class tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, but I didn't bring spare clothes?"
"I've got some of your underwear here already," Hiraeth said, smirking a little. He glanced up. "Joining us, Lucas? You can feel through me, if you like."
Lucas drifted a little closer. "I'll keep you company," he promised. They both knew what it meant for Hiraeth to offer his vessel up, even a little. Letting another person in an Other’s vessel was beyond intimate, something some of them might even find profane.
It never seemed to stop Hiraeth, not since Lucas had first joined with him in order to save his life… or during the much nicer times since then. There were times Keith was almost jealous. There was something the two of them shared when they were in one body, feeling the same things and conscious the whole time, that Keith couldn't be part of.
Hiraeth just laughed, giving Lucas a grin before seeming to notice Keith's melancholy bent, turning his attention back to Keith and pulling him in for a kiss. "Mm, good…"
Keith kissed back, tasting the strange wilderness of Hiraeth's mouth under the flavor of take-out, and closed his eyes. Everything was big and stressful and new, but this much was familiar by now, no longer a guilty pleasure but an eager one.
He relaxed into it, let himself enjoy their hands roaming over him as one, let himself taste Lucas's breath in Hiraeth's mouth as it passed into Keith's body in urgent kisses. It was all he could to do kiss back, hands grabbing fistfuls of Hiraeth's shirt, but that was fine. Just kissing, giving as good as he got, was enough.
They didn't need him to be in control for this, and it was such a relief to not be. Hiraeth didn't mind when a pile of books fell over on his desk as Keith's grip on his powers relaxed and his spirit grew too big for his own body. He just put a hand on Keith's face, turning it back to his own, and swallowed Keith's apology with another kiss. Keith knew he'd end up looking eventually to see if any of it was damaged—but that could happen later.
The now was just this, just the near-agonizing pleasure of being pressed back and taken, the aching pressure of two bodies moving together, rough and strong and with adoration in every movement.
Keith whimpered, clinging tight to Hiraeth's body, holding on to them both, and just let himself feel, just let himself be in the moment.
"Love you," one of them whispered; Keith could barely hear it under his own gasping breaths, didn't know which of them had said it.
Didn't matter. He sobbed it back to both of them. "I love you. I love you."
Pleasure built; a plate crashed off the desk with a clatter that he couldn't make sense of at the time.
And then a moment of peace, a silence in himself that he relaxed into, thinking about nothing and hearing only the thundering of his heartbeat and Hiraeth and Lucas's ragged breathing.
Hiraeth let out a soft laugh, and reality started back up again. Lucas slid out of Hiraeth to flop down next to and partly through them, making Keith draw in deep breaths at the competing sensations making him shiver through the aftermath: the sticky heat of Hiraeth holding him close, the icy chill of Lucas at his back. They never stayed together too long. Hiraeth's vessel was nothing like what Lucas's body had been, and there was a point, Lucas said, where it became impossibly dissonant. The post-coital letdown was one of those times, so they just… adjusted.
They were getting really good at adjusting to make this strange relationship work, Keith thought. It was something so good for them, even if nobody else might understand it.
One of Hiraeth's arms shifted, a hand resting on Keith's hip where a cold spot soon joined it; Lucas and Hiraeth, holding hands around him.
Keith burrowed his face into Hiraeth's neck. "Do you think he'll like me?" he asked finally, muffled.
"Oh, my darling," Hiraeth said, tone aching. His other hand came up and slid into Keith's hair, ruffling it tenderly. "Who wouldn't love you?"
Keith, having never felt any particular love for himself, didn't answer.
chapter three
Hiraeth cooked breakfast on the kitchen hotplate he had in place of a stove, and brewed his organic coffee. They ate and drank while sitting together on the bed, leaning against each other. Hiraeth had gotten down one of his books for Lucas, who, when he focused, had just enough poltergeist energy to flip pages, and he was seated at the desk, reading.
As Hiraeth had promised, he'd held onto the clothes Keith had previously left there, meaning he only had to rewear his socks and jeans. Keith ran his fingers down the front of the flannel shirt. It was his own, but had been laundered with Hiraeth's things, and smelled like him now, wet and wild, some sort of hidden forest mystery worn on his body.
Keith kind of liked that. He swallowed his gulp of sweetened coffee and said, hoarsely, "This is really nice?"
And, as though he'd summoned some kind of curse with his words, the shop bell rang downstairs.
"I thought you didn't open until eleven on Saturdays," Lucas protested, looking up.
"I don't. Doesn't always stop customers," Hiraeth said thoughtfully. "But, also, it's probably my boy."
The sense of tranquility abruptly vanished. The next sip of coffee tasted strangely acidic, twisting in Keith's suddenly-tense stomach. "Oh," he wheezed.
Hiraeth hopped up. He was still wearing sweatpants and a pajama t-shirt top—a cat clinging to the ceiling with a cartoon alarm clock ringing next to its bed—but somehow they didn't make him look any less ready for company, his expression eager and his eyes bright. "Well, I'm heading downstairs. You want to come with me?"
"Should I?" Keith hedged. "I can wait until you've had time to catch up—"
The doorbell rang again, somehow seeming more aggressive the second time, and Hiraeth shrugged. "I don't want to leave him on the doorstep, m'love." He bent, kissing Keith's cheek, then crossed to Lucas and buzzed a hand gently over the top of his head, as though ruffling his tightly-curled hair. "Come down whenever! I'll host them in the shop. It's larger there anyway."
He clattered off down the stairs, leaving Keith looking at Lucas in an embarrassed, uncertain panic.
"Big step, meeting the family," Lucas said, seeming flustered himself. He got up, pacing over the floor; as always, it didn't creak as it might when Keith or Hiraeth moved. "I guess, finish your coffee first…?"
"What if he hates me?" Keith wheezed.
"I mean, then he's a dick?" Lucas said. He came over and sat next to Keith, a cool and comforting presence that Keith leaned into at once. "Right, though, big mood. Weird ghost. Strange human. But maybe he's like Hiraeth and will be chill about us? I mean, Hiraeth did say they were closely aligned…"
"Maybe," Keith said. "I. You know, I never thought I was going to have a boyfriend. Let alone two boyfriends? And one of them has kids?"
"Keith, your life is weird as shit even without your spooky boyfriends." Lucas gave him a smile that was more anxious than reassuring, but clearly he was making the effort.
A nervous giggle bubbled up in Keith's throat. "Don't I know it," he said. He finished his coffee with a swig. "All right. Let's just… give them enough time to say their hellos and then head down there, I guess. Worst case scenario, I can never show my face here again."
"Right. No big."
***
Keith crept down the stairs, more paranoid and cautious than he had been when tryin
g to sneak into a haunted mansion full of creepy dolls, which was saying something. There were similarities: the stairs were wooden, they creaked, and he was terrified of the creature lurking on the other side.
Hiraeth was perched on his service counter, mid-conversation with the pair of people in front of him. Keith didn’t think they’d made a sound, but Hiraeth suddenly continued his sentence without even a verbal stutter, announcing: "—and there's the two lovelies I wanted to introduce you to."
Everyone in the room turned to Keith and Lucas with very different expressions, and Keith wheezed out a breath.
"Hi," he managed, just as he ran out of air.
The woman was wearing snakeskin-patterned jeans and a tunic-style dress over them, partially obscured by golden brown hair that hung ruler-straight down past her hips, a mottled honey color. She was built lean and long, around six feet tall. To Keith’s second sight, overlaid on her form, he could see small scales catching the light on her face, neck, and hands. Her lips split a little too wide in her face, her eyes flat and unblinking gold, but her smile seemed genuine enough as she bobbed her head to him, careful not to overly disturb the small fish bowl she was holding.
The young man—
Well, he was definitely Hiraeth's son. His hair wasn't the same platinum white as Hiraeth's, but a more standard tannish fawn color, and freckles covered his tan face. He was wearing black jeans and a t-shirt under a dramatic souvenir jacket—satiny, black and white, and embroidered with pale pink flowers across his shoulders, flowing down into the hem and seam details. His antlers were much more plant-like, almost wooden; Hiraeth's branched unnaturally, but were clearly made of bone. His son’s were rough and brown, and had cherry blossoms clustered around their tips. He didn't look more than a few years younger than Hiraeth himself, but given the near-immortal nature of Others, that didn't mean much.
If Wishes Were Fishes Page 2