Chapter Text
Kakyoin lets out a quiet swear when he nearly trips over his bag—again—and glances around the apartment one more time. His eyes eventually stop on his roommate and he just gives a strained smile, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Polnareff promptly laughs and waves him off, “Kak, seriously. Chill. It’s been a long semester and your family is trying to do something nice for you. Go on: Go have fun and relax. It’ll be fine!”
‘Fine’ isn’t exactly how he would describe anything involving Polnareff. Ever. The last time he went on a trip with his family—and, he will admit it’s been a few years and he really hopes Polnareff learned from last time—he came back to a half-burnt apartment. He still isn’t sure what happened and he sure as Hell still thinks Polnareff is lying through his teeth when he says it wasn’t his fault; but, he really does not want to go on this trip if it means the Frenchman is going to be alone for more than twenty-four hours. He must still look skeptical because Polnareff is suddenly next to him and gives him a solid thump on the back that he assumes was supposed to be reassuring, even though it nearly sends him face first into his bags, “Come on, I’ll help you take everything outside. It’ll be fine. Promise.”
He tries to protest when most of the bags are picked up; Polnareff just laughs and disappears down the hall towards the lobby where his parents are waiting. Kakyoin grumbles a few curses under his breath, gingerly rubbing his back as best he can, and shoulders the two bags that Polnareff left behind. He casts one last look over the apartment and, after a few seconds of wondering why it feels like someone’s watching him, hurries after his roommate.
♠
“Oi, I thought he’d never get in the car!” Polnareff whines and stretches his arms out above his head before he face plants in the couch. He turns over, a small, scowling pout forming when he glances up, “Did you have something to do with that?”
Above him, a man slowly comes into view from a thin veil of smoke. Dark eyes level him with a none-too-amused look and his arms cross in a sign of practiced patience, “For the last time, Jean: He cannot see me. Unless you are touching me, he can neither see me nor can he benefit from my abilities in any way. Not unless we find my other brand.”
There’s a moment of silence while Polnareff mulls over the information; Avdol quietly hopes he’s finally taking this remotely seriously. Of course… a moment later, he reaches up and merely yanks the spirit down to him and laughs over the indignant swear.
“Jean!”
“You worry too much, Momo.” The Frenchman hums and nestles into the other man’s neck, sighing in relief, “Relax. My roommate’s gonna be out for at least a week and a half and I can hug you all I want now. We’ll worry about the other stuff later.”
“Jean, it is not just 'other stuff'—”
“Your brand is with your friend, right?” Polnareff pulls away, just enough to examine the silver bracelets on his left wrist; he can see where the matching set should be on Avdol’s right wrist; in its place, is a thin, wire bracelet with star charms hanging off of it. Whenever Polnareff tries to touch it—even if his hand just brushes too close to it onaccident—the charms react and shock him. He’s learned to keep his hands well away from it, “As long as it’s with your friend and he’s asleep, there’s not much we can do. We just have to wait until he finds someone to bond with.” Avdol promptly sighs and the human quirks a brow at him, “Ok, he can’t be that stubborn.”
“I believe he could be. It’s been many decades since he’s been bound to anyone. But… you are correct. My brand is safe with him and the best I can do for now is keep his safe—and, more importantly, keep you safe.”
Polnareff grins and leans up to brush a gentle kiss against the spirit’s lips, “You always do, Momo.”
♠
It’s barely three days into their vacation when Kakyoin finally realises has no idea where they are anymore. Normally, he’s a lot more aware of where all they’re traveling but he’s exhausted and he really just wants to not be in a car ever again. The bit of trip on the plane had been an ordeal on its own; ignoring that the in-flight movie was absolutely terrible (and in a language he couldn’t follow), he can’t remember the last time he was on a flight and hadn’t been sitting near his parents. They’d warned him beforehand, but still. He was expecting maybe a row or a few seats between them; but, no. They’d been four rows ahead of him on the opposite side of the plane, with his mother taking the window-side seat; Kakyoin had also been graced (he’d hoped) with a window seat… until he realized that the person he was sitting next to was on a business trip. The second the ‘no electronics’ light went off, the man was immediately on a conference call and had spent the entire flight snapping at the flight attendants because there was a kid sitting behind them, scared out of her mind. Normally, Kakyoin would put his headphones on and just ignore everything… but, he ended up sitting on his knees for most of the flight so he could lean over the back of his seat and try to calm the kid behind him, just a little bit. It worked, in intervals. Sometimes she would calm down enough to have a moderately lengthy conversation with him (as lengthy as a child could get; the subject changed so many times he can’t even remember what they were talking about); but, the slightest turbulence would have her near tears again and that always managed to put the man next to him back in a foul mood. He remembers teetering between wanting to punch the man and begging the flight attendant to just move him somewhere else. He also remembers a strange mix of gratefulness and smug satisfaction when the flight attendants had told the man he had to close his conference call while the other passengers were trying to sleep. It had been a brief argument, but well worth it and Kakyoin had managed to curl up against his window, headphones on and music low, and sleep for most of the remaining flight.
Once they landed, he had hoped they would be checking into a hotel immediately—mostly to get a shower because airports always left him feeling just a little too uncomfortable—and had just scowled at the rental car his parents ushered him into. Thankfully, it’s bigger than the last rental car he’d been in and most of their luggage fits in the trunk. He has a few bags in the backseat with him, but he just uses them as a prop when he curls up for a very bumpy and unsatisfying nap, two hours into the drive. His mother wakes him up what feels like five minutes after he’s finally in a comfortable slumber (he later figures out it’s been four hours) to ask if he wants anything to eat while they’re stopped at a gas station. He settles on a bottle of water (the thought of food makes him queasy and his mother just laughs at the face he makes at her) and spends the rest of the drive in a half-awake state, with his water bottle cradled against the crick in his neck, until they finally check into a motel a few hours later.
The motel is probably the best news he’s heard since they left; mostly because he finds out he gets a room to himself. It’s small, sure, but it’s still a room to himself and he gratefully dives at the bed as soon as his bags are secured in the tiny closet. He’ll worry about unpacking later. The bed is surprisingly comfortable for an out-of-the-way motel in what he can only consider is an outskirt town. He hadn’t seen much, but it looked… pretty small, compared to places they normally travel first. He vaguely hears his mother telling him that his parents are going out for dinner and he thinks he gives them an affirmative sign to show he understood while simultaneously declining he wanted to go. He assumes he did, at any rate, because he hears the door click shut and he’s left in blissful silence and stillness for the first time in the past two days and he falls asleep pretty easily.
He’s not sure when his parents get back, but his mother wakes him up in the morning, with a series of solid knocks against his door, to tell him they’re all going out for breakfast and he’s not getting out of this. He knows she’s teasing and gives a sleepy mumble of compliance before he pulls his blanket over his head. He vaguely hears her tell him that they’re leaving in thirty minutes, so he better get up soon, and he can only assume she’s gone back to her room when she doesn’t add anything else.
As much as he wants to stay in the comfortable ball he’s bundled himself into, he knows he should probably get up before his mother comes back. It’s not until he’s out of the shower and fluffing his hair with a towel that a thought finally occurs to him and a slow frown crosses his face when he finally realizes he has no idea where they are.
That particular epiphany had occurred to him almost three hours ago and he’s been looking at every pamphlet they came across since then to get an idea of where they were and what he could do with himself for however long they were staying. He’s pleasantly delighted when he finds out they’re a few hours out from Cairo (and disappointed when he realizes that means they probably landed at the airport in Cairo and he’d been too tired to see anything)—he remembers touring Cairo when he’d been in high school; he’d been sick for the latter half of the trip and hadn’t gotten to see nearly as much as he wanted—and he’s more excited when his parents promise that they’ll tour Cairo before they leave. But this is an out of the way little town they’d heard about from some friends of theirs. He wants to ask which friends (because so far, he’s found absolutely nothing to do to entertain himself), before he reminds himself that would be rude and even if it weren’t, he doesn’t really know any of his parents friends, except the weird little old woman that used to live across the street from his parents. And he’d really like to not think about her and her weird hoarding habits.
So, he resigns himself to enjoying the small café they find and asking the waiter for any places he can go exploring. His parents have already booked themselves for a hiking tour of some nearby mountains; Kakyoin is quietly grateful they didn’t book him with that because he’s not sure he’s ready to be out hiking. He might, later; but, for now, he needs a few hours to adjust to the time zone and get used to his surroundings. The waiter looks surprised when he asks—either because he’s fluent in English or because he’s asking, instead of inquiring tourist attractions, he isn’t sure—and tells him that, aside from the hiking tour, there’s a market a bit further into town. A few historical sites that he will hopefully find interesting, but it’s mostly a small trade town that gets its commerce from people traveling out of Cairo. Kakyoin thanks him and spends the remainder of breakfast making idle chatter when the man comes back to check on them and giving his parents updates on how school’s been, while tactfully avoiding bringing up his roommate. It’s not that his parents dislike Polnareff so much as Kakyoin isn’t sure how he’s supposed to explain the amount of near-death situations the man manages to get into. Thankfully, when his mother asks how he’s been, they’re pleased enough to accept a generalized “He’s… doing great. Still freelancing and moving between jobs, but he’s doing fine,” and allow the conversation to move on.
So, here he is. Wandering around a small market and wondering what—if anything—he should get Polnareff as a souvenir. Honestly, he’s more concerned with whether or not their apartment will be in one piece when he gets back and wonders if he should just save his money on the off-chance it isn’t. Street vendors call out to prospecting customers in a mix of languages—he can only assume they’re repeating the same thing each time, trying to attract different people; he keeps his focus ahead and does his absolute best to avoid all eye-contact (mostly for his own sake) until he’s in a much quieter part of the market where the indoor shops are and lets himself relax just a little in anticipation.
Every trip, he always manages to find out of the way book stores or tiny thrift stores and he always manages to find something small that catches his eye to remind him of the trip. He still has all of the tiny souvenirs stashed away in a keepsake box—a pretty silver box with an intricate design that his grandmother had given him when he was younger and… when he thinks about it, that box was what started his habit of collecting trinkets. He’s still smiling to himself when he enters an out of the way shop and offers a polite greeting when the owner acknowledges him.
The owner is a tiny old man that reminds him a little bit of a neighbor from when he was little, before they moved. Kakyoin quickly assures the man he doesn’t need to move from his counter, he’s not looking for anything in particular, just browsing, though he’s very certain he’s going to end up buying something.
There are wind chimes and a variety of ceiling decorations—hanging lights and wires and things Kakyoin’s never seen before—all over the store. He takes care when he weaves through them, mindful not too disturb them too much (he’ll brush his fingers across a few of the wind chimes, just to hear the gentle rings, every few steps) and extra mindful to make sure they don’t snag on his clothes or in his hair. There’s a sword display close the counter that he pays a passing glance towards; he considers—very briefly—that Polnareff might appreciate a new rapier…. He quickly discards the thought because seriously… his roommate has nearly died too many damn times. He does not need something that dangerous… and, now that he considers it, he has no idea where Polnareff’s old rapier went. The beginning pangs of a headache make Kakyoin shuffle all thoughts of his roommate to the side, just as he finds the bookshelves hidden between rows of china dining ware and tiny figurines of glass and clay.
Books are definitely much safer—and far better—to consider than anything involving his roommate. He hums and lets his fingers drift along the spines of the books, not really actively seeking out a specific title so much as hoping something jumps out at him—something he’s searched for before, something that just sounds interesting, he isn’t terribly picky so much as curious.
He’s barely halfway across the first shelf when a small shine in his peripheral garners his attention.
A tiny charm shines, just enough to make him wince away from the sudden light, and he instinctively turns to find the source. It’s too dim in the shop for such a shine to be possible but he didn’t just imagine being temporarily blinded. Curiosity wins out and he reluctantly leaves the books to investigate a table a few feet away.
There’s an array of jewelry scattered along the table top—necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, even a few hair ornaments. He has to wonder just how authentic they are to be shuffled off in the back corner in such a fashion; they’re pretty to look at, but… surely if they were valuable, they would be closer to the counter? His curiosity doesn’t last very far past that particular question as he finds the offensive piece of jewelry when it nearly blinds him again, as though trying to get his attention.
The piece in question is a wire-thin bracelet, gently wrapped around a display stand, with a number of stars—all of various size and length—dangling around it. He counts out eight and quirks a brow at the bracelet. Stars aren’t normally something he considers, but this….
The metal is freezing. It’s an alarming contrast to the dry heat that circulates the store from outside and that is the only reason Kakyoin even realizes he’s touched the charms. The stars make a soft chime whenever he touches them, even when they don’t clink together; and, the more he lets his finger dance over the individual charms, the warmer they seem to feel. Normally, he might be curious about the change in temperature; but, right now… he only considers that maybe changing his earrings isn’t a bad idea. (Or, maybe he’ll get lucky and the mix of cherries and stars won’t look too odd. He hopes not.)
Freeing the bracelet from the display looks like it should be a task in and of itself; but, Kakyoin is pleasantly surprised when the thin wire slips up from the display with minimal effort and carefully pools the bracelet in his palm, trying to be mindful not to tangle any of the charms, and makes his way towards the counter. He completely forgets the books and that he was considering a souvenir for his roommate when he holds his hand out towards the man behind the counter, “Excuse me, sir? I was wondering how much this would be? There wasn’t a price attached to it….”
He hopes it actually is for sale. Everything else on the table had a tiny tag attached to it and—he supposes—that the charms probably would have mangled any attempts to tag the bracelet. But, given that the owner is suddenly giving him an alarmed look, he suddenly feels extremely apprehensive about the entire situation. Maybe it isn’t for sale, after all—?
“You are sure you want this piece?” The man’s voice is a little unsteady. Kakyoin can’t tell if it’s because he’s perhaps struggling to speak English or because the man doesn’t speak very often… perhaps a mix of both? Either way, he feels bad; but, he still gives a confused nod.
“Yes, sir? I—it was on the table, I just assumed—”
“It is for sale, yes.” His words are more steady this time. He still looks surprised and Kakyoin is still really nervous. “Most curious…. I have owned that for many years and my father before me and his father before him… many ask about it. No one has bought. You are curious.” There’s a pause—a pause of thick tension in which Kakyoin is suddenly wondering if the bracelet is cursed or haunted or attached to some horrific incident—before the man asks him again, “You are sure you want this piece? There are many other pieces. Fine rings and charms, much higher quality.”
“Er… sir, the quality really isn’t an issure.” Kakyoin shifts his weight, starting to wonder why he still wants the thing, “I do want this piece, please.” He pauses and adds slowly, “Assuming the price isn’t outrageous, I do want this.”
“Not outrageous. No tag because it has no price. It is for whoever it wants.” The man looks delighted suddenly and Kakyoin just feels even more confused than before, “Can I interest you in any other pieces? A ring to accompany? Ring is silver, however.”
He startles out of his thoughts and glances down at the bracelet again, “I had a feeling it wasn’t silver… do you know what it’s made from, sir?”
“Has been appraised before. Attempted to. No one seems sure.” The man tilts his head, trying to recall details, “It’s been many long years… the wire is sterling silver, we are sure. The stars… I believe most appraisers agreed they are platinum.”
Kakyoin stares at the man and hopes he doesn’t look too dumbfounded. A platinum charm bracelet? And he’s just giving it away? … It’s definitely cursed. It has to be cursed. The thoughts leave him again when he hastily declines the ring the man is trying to present him, “N-no, thank you. Just the bracelet, I uh—oh.” He glances towards the swords again, “I… might be back tomorrow. I have a friend who’s extremely interested in swords… I’d need a second opinion on them, though. Are you open all week, sir?” The man gives a happy nod and Kakyoin gives him an unsteady smile, hoping to escape before he has any longer to think on his newly acquired piece, “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise!”
He bows, the same way he does back home when he excuses himself, without mind of where he is and quickly makes his way from the shop. It isn’t until he’s back at the motel, safe in his room and getting ready for a shower, that he finally thinks back on what the man said.
It is for whoever it wants.
He definitely just acquired a cursed piece of jewelry.
♣
His parents try to invite him to dinner again; but, he lies and says he found something small to eat while he was in the market and didn’t have much of an appetite. He promises to make it up to them by treating them to lunch tomorrow, after he figures out if he really wants to get Polnareff a sword (his mother laughs and tells him it would be a thoughtful gift; she encourages at least getting a decoration piece… it’s sound advice) and bids his parents good night before they leave. He waits until he’s sure they’re gone to fall face first into his bed and lets out a long groan.
I should have just left the damn thing there.
He stays face down until he can’t breathe and finally, reluctantly, turns his head to stare at the small nightstand, where he set the bracelet down before his shower. He’d been careful to lay the wire out in a full circle and made sure none of the stars were tangled on the others. It looks as harmless as it did on the display and, as a bonus, it hasn’t tried to blind him once since he got back. He still wonders about that… with a humourless laugh, he chalks the weird glimmer up to more proof the damn thing’s cursed and finally sits up.
Still, he considers, his hand reaching to touch the star closest to him (he marvels at the gentle chime that fills the air), it is pretty… figures, though. The one time I try something new it’s cursed.
He spends the next few minutes tapping over the individual charms, marveling at the way they continue to steadily grow warmer. Against his better judgment (or, because of it… because seriously… he needs to stop telling himself the thing is cursed. There’s no such thing as curses and he refuses to start believing in them now.) he carefully coils the bracelet around his left wrist. The wire comfortably wraps twice around his wrist; it’s not tight enough that he can’t get it off, but it’s still just enough that the wire doesn’t slide up and down his arm too drastically and the stars dangle carelessly around his wrist and hand.
He lets the bracelet sit for a few moments longer, looking around the room like he’s waiting for something to happen. A minute or so later he lets out another laugh and falls into his pillows again. Of course nothing happened. He continues laughing at himself and, as his fingers tap against the charms that fall into his palm, he falls into an easy, dreamless sleep.
♠
Polnareff lets out a startled swear when something sharp pierces his skin and sits up, immediately wide awake and alert for how early it is. He swears he spares the bedside clock a glance (five in the goddamn morning, why.); but, his alertness quickly turns to panic when he realizes his bed is remarkably empty, despite still being warm and his attention immediately shifts to scanning the room.
“Avdol!”
The spirit doesn’t answer him and another surge of panic begins to build up in his chest. Before he can scramble from bed however, heavy hands descend from behind him, clamping on his shoulders to keep him still. The relief is short lived when he notices how violently the spirit’s trembling and he looks up over his shoulder.
It’s strange, even after all the years they’ve been bound together, to see Avdol with the wisp-like tail coiling in the air around him. Normally, Polnareff might be a little in awe, getting to see it… right now, he’s just worried because when it isn’t a show of stealth or magic, it’s a sign of impending danger. Last time, it had been a poltergeist. He closes his hands over Avdol’s in some attempt to calm the spirit down a little faster.
“Momo? Momo, what’s wrong, what happened—” He doesn’t finish the question when a second pierce sends a jolt up his arm and he ends up letting out a yelp. Avdol immediately recoils, just enough distance between them that Polnareff can’t reach him without moving from his spot; whenever he tries, though, Avdol moves further away until he’s floating up near the ceiling, well out of grabbing reach and Polnareff lets out a stubborn, petulant growl of frustration, “Avdol.”
Instead of answering, the spirit merely holds his hands out. Normally, this tends to be a sign of submission. Djinn can’t conjure well without their hands and leaving them so exposed is generally a dangerous gesture, no matter how much trust is behind it. This time, however… Polnareff just stares, uncertainly, at his wrists.
The charms on the wire bracelet crackle with electricity, even when it’s obvious that Polnareff is far out of reach from them, and he finally becomes aware of the fact his own bracelet—the thick silver rings around his left arm—have begun to burn and glow bright red. The burn doesn’t hurt, but it’s enough that Polnareff finally figures out that the stars had been shocking him and that’s what had been hurting. He looks up, questions evident in his eyes.
For once, Avdol avoids eye contact and his voice is strained and unsteady when he finally manages to answer.
“He’s awake. He’s finally—Jean, we need to find him. I need—I need to find him, my brand—”
Polnareff just nods and slowly sits back down on the bed. He holds his arms up towards the spirit until Avdol finally settles back on the bed next to him, his legs materializing from the wisp of his tail when Polnareff pulls him into his lap, trying to be mindful to avoid being anywhere near the charms. Even then, a small jolt of electricity runs through his body every few seconds. He doesn’t say anything, though; he just bites down the sigh and stubbornly buries his face against Avdol’s back to ignore the pangs of pain with each jolt and simultaneously trying to calm the spirit down with the familiar gesture.
So much for relaxing for a few weeks….
♠
Kakyoin wakes up, reluctantly, when his phone starts going off. The influx of texts makes the alert overlap on itself and he sleepily reaches out to try silencing it. He grumbles when his hand finally closes over it… only to let out a short, startled scream when a jolt of electricity runs up his entire arm. He sits up and pulls his arm to his body, cradling his hand close to his chest and stares at his phone. The alerts have finally stopped, but it still blinks at him to signal new messages. He just stares at it and slowly reaches out to try grabbing it again. When his left hand gets too close, the stars on his bracelet begin to crackle and he yanks his arm away again to keep from getting shocked a second time. He looks at his right hand for a long moment, debating whether or not he wants to risk injuring his hand, before he finally reaches out to try grabbing the phone with his right hand.
He’s relieved when it doesn’t shock him this time and manages to flip the phone open—while keeping it a safe distance from his left arm—and scans the messages. A lot of it is nonsense—like Polnareff was trying to text while he was running, and Kakyoin knows he would do this because he’s done it before—but, after a while, he manages to piece together that he’s going out for a few days to help someone… Momo? Kakyoin mulls on the name for a while. Momo… Momo… ah, right. Momo was that friend Kakyoin met a few months ago. He was a polite man that—whenever Kakyoin saw him at least—Polnareff was practically glued to his hip and always had an arm around him or was grasping his hand. The other man hadn’t seemed to mind in the least and had merely smiled and let Polnareff do as he pleased—
Wait a minute.
Kakyoin looks down at his left arm again and stares, long and hard, at the bracelet.
Momo… if he remembers right the man had a similar bracelet. In fact, he’s almost certain that it’s identical to the one he’s wearing now. He wonders how weird it would be if he sent a picture text, asking Polnareff to check when he got the chance—
“You should probably set that down. The charms will damage it if you are not careful.”
Kakyoin nearly jumps out of his skin at the unexpected voice and, honestly, at that very moment, he’s only proud of himself for not shrieking. He whirls around, his heart pouding in his chest, and—before he can consider calling for help—everything… well, stops. The panic washes out of his system in favour of confusion and, despite the way his heart is still pounding against his ribs, his body relaxes with the confusion. There’s a man at the end of his bed, who doesn’t look to be much older than he is. His hair is kept in a short, messy cut, with the bangs being pushed out of his face by a circlet and…
Kakyoin’s face is steadily growing warmer as he realizes the man isn’t wearing much more than a loincloth covered by a sash. He instead, turns his attention to the few other clothes: the shoulder guards that look too heavy and a little out of place on the otherwise armour-less body; the thin scarf wound around his neck, perhaps attached to the guards; a pair of knee-high boots with heavy shin guards on their front; and, most curiously, a pair of elbow-length bracers, with studs running along the back of his hands. Honestly, the strange circlet is probably the most normal part of his attire—
His attention immediately goes back to the man’s right arm. He’d missed it the first time—the way his right arm is resting against his crossed legs—but there’s a stack of silver bracelets going up his arm. Specifically, a stack of bracelets that look exactly like Polnareff’s and… wait.
“Is everything all right?”
Kakyoin startles when the man speaks and when he looks up this time, he ends up making eye contact with the most curious green eyes he’s ever seen. There’s a strange light to them and he quickly looks away to keep from getting distracted a second time… then he remembers why he was staring before and startles again, “You are floating over my bed.”
The man gives him a blank look before glancing down at the bed and then back at him again. He looks… mildly confused, “Would you prefer I were sitting on the bed, then?”
“I—well, yes—wait, I mean, no—I mean—how the Hell did you get in my room!?”
The man’s brows furrow—confusion and irritation, possibly hostility—when he answers, “You brought me here.”
“I am pretty sure I would remember bringing someone into my room—”
But, Kakyoin’s attention immediately goes to his wrist. He stares at the bracelet and finally takes note of the fact it's… warm. The entire thing is warm. He’s a little concerned about how it isn’t burning his wrist right now and equally amazed at how… comfortable it feels. He slowly leans back against his headboard, trying to find some sense of security and hardly notices his phone’s slipped out of his hand and tumbled harmlessly (thankfully, taking no damage) into the bed sheets and then down the floor with a soft thud.
“The bracelet?”
The man gives a short nod, brows knitting ever tighter together, “You have my brand. So, yes. You brought me here. You clearly didn’t summon me, so… how did you come across it?”
Kakyoin doesn’t answer; he just gives a mildly hysterical laugh and presses his hand over his eyes to try processing this just a little faster. The stars tap lightly against his face and he just keeps laughing.
The bracelet really was cursed… and now he has some weird-ass, half-naked man sitting—no, floating—at the end of his bed.
This is possibly the worst vacation ever.