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Baby liked Mystery. Not in the way his fans do, like lovesick dogs so desperate to feel something that they'd latch onto the first mildly attractive face they see. He liked Mystery because he was safe and comfortable. Jinu said that's what being near a friend felt like, but Baby just thought he was just a different lovesick dog — lonely and latching onto the first person to show him any glimpse of kindness.
It didn’t mean that he would avoid Mystery just because he felt pathetic; if anything, it meant he wanted to be close to him more often because he craved that kindness — a “growing friendship”, Jinu would probably describe it as. No one knew that Baby felt this way; everyone thought he was just sociable. If anyone noticed that sociability was just aimed more at Mystery, they didn’t say anything. Probably because firstly the demons other than Jinu couldn’t possibly think a relationship outside necessity could last, and secondly the girls didn’t give a rat’s ass about it.
So, naturally, Baby ignored it. He spent time with Mystery and summed up the warmth that spread from his chest to his fingertips whenever they mutually shared a light-hearted joke as sensitivity for the new emotions he’d gained when the honmoon was sealed. The thump of his heart whenever something vulnerable came up in conversation was just him getting used to living in a human body. Friendship couldn’t happen, no matter how often Jinu said it was possible now. Baby was a demon, even if his skin didn’t reflect it.
Everyone else was out at some fan-signing and it was just Mystery and Baby left. They couldn’t go because they’d been tasked with cleaning the house and keeping stock of the food. Apparently, putting glitter in the washing machine wasn’t “acceptable”. Zoey caught him in the act, and Mystery was there with him, standing against the wall like a friendly shadow, and didn’t exactly help his case by not talking and sinking into the character the fans found so intriguing. “The jury” decided that they both would make up for it by putting their effort into organising the apartment.
Baby was humming under his breath the new single the Saja boys had released. Soda Pop had got stuck in his head for weeks, and now this new one wiggled its way in right beside it. He found he had a lot of love-hate relationships with music that was catchy — Mira called them 'earworms' because they wormed right into their ears and into their brains.
He rested his arm on the pole of the broom and sighed. Mystery had a cloth and was cleaning the kitchen counters, a soapy spray can in his other hand.
“I’m so bored,” Baby groaned, dropping his head into his hands dramatically, wincing when the broom clacked onto the floor.
Mystery blew a few strands of hair from his eyes before turning toward him, an annoyed frown now accompanied by soft yellow eyes.
He threw the cloth down on the now clean counter, pointing the soap bottle accusingly at him. “I literally did nothing wrong; I was just there while you were doing it. I don’t deserve this.”
“Bystanders are the worst people in life, Mys,” Baby replies, a slow smirk picking at the corners of his lips.
“You didn’t even remember what life was until a week ago,” Mystery snarks before snatching up the cloth again and shifting focus onto the next counter. “Shut up and broom.”
Baby decides not to pet the agitated cat for once because he’s nice and bends down to pick up the broom to continue to follow the path of dust that never seems to end. They continue in comfortable silence before, surprisingly, Mystery pipes up from where he’s now bent over the couch and vacuuming the cushions. Baby would laugh if he wasn’t currently drowned in dirty dishes that had piled up since the previous night’s dinner.
“Do you have any memories from before?” Baby glances over his shoulder, confused. “I mean, like, from your life before… demonhood.”
Baby hesitates to pick up the next plate from the pile. He schools his expression before shrugging. “Not really; after a while they just fade.”
“Yeah, I know,” Mystery replies, his voice strained. “But sometimes I get these dreams, recurring dreams, and it feels like maybe my brain’s trying to tell me something.”
Baby forces out a laugh, turning around to fully face him. “What, are you psychic now?”
“No, I’m just…” Mystery trails off. “Ever since the honmoon, you know, frosted over, I’ve been starting to get these weird déjà vu moments.”
Baby considers trying to change the subject. He knows the direction this conversation is going, and from the way his chest is now tightening in weird, slightly concerning ways, Baby isn’t ready for it. He’s also been having dreams — nightmares. They also leave him to wake up in a sweat, light-headed. They make him feel scared, vulnerable, and after acting as if an entire realm could rely on him for so long, the feeling of fear makes him want to vomit.
Either not noticing Baby’s silence or simply ignoring it, Mystery continues, “I don’t know if it means something, but when I’m talking to someone, especially to you—” Baby’s breath hitches “—it feels like I’ve been there before. I’ve felt that before.”
His heart pulses in his ears. That could mean anything, Baby thought. It didn’t mean that they knew each other before; Baby knew that. If they had, they would’ve been around the same age. Mystery was at least fifty years older than him, so that couldn’t be possible. But what else could it mean? His breath came out shaky, unsteady. He suddenly hated himself for indulging in this. There was no way to back out now without looking like a coward — pathetic.
“Well, I don’t know,” Baby muttered, clutching the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip. “Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.”
Mystery, whose shoulders were hunched up near his ears, suddenly slumped. Not relaxed, not relieved.
He’s upset. Baby’s heart twists — at least, that’s what it feels like. All he knows is that paired with a chest that feels as though it’s actively trying to suffocate him, it isn’t a nice combination.
Mystery suddenly begins to walk forward toward the kitchen, where Baby’s next to the sink. He doesn’t go too far, just a few steps. Baby still feels compelled to move back even though he can’t.
“Can you just listen?” Mystery breathes, but he looks angry. He does. “I know this looks crazy. I do, okay? It’s just… the feeling I get when I spend time with you and the dreams I’m having. They’re linked somehow, I know it.”
Baby doesn’t move when he scoffs, but he feels the guilt already seeping into his too-pure skin. “So you had friends in your previous life, and I remind you of them. Big whoop. The dreams you’re having? Recurring dreams exist; your body’s just getting used to actually dreaming—”
“Baby,” Mystery snaps.
His mouth clicks shut. The silence that follows settles uncomfortably on Baby’s shoulders, cramming him into his corner by the sink. He knows he’s being unreasonable; he knows that he’s being insensitive. The effort his grip is taking on the edge of the counter is making his hands shake, but he strategically positions his body so that his hands are behind his back. Mystery can’t see them. Mystery can only see the version Baby wants him to see: indifferent, selfish, conceited. That’s all he’s allowed to see. Baby is not his friend. Mystery is a necessity that’ll end. Over time, it’ll end.
The next time he focuses, he can hear footsteps to his right. He looks, and Mystery has made his way to the side of the kitchen where it begins. He’s looking at Baby as if he’s a bomb rigged to explode while also an indignant child arguing for the sake of it. They’re both linked in some kind of way, and it makes Baby sigh deeply out of his nose. The quiet continues until Baby hears Mystery chuckle wearily.
“Do you know why I became a demon?” Mystery asks.
Baby just shakes his head, avoiding eye contact.
A few steps more and Baby can feel his presence so close to his skin that he could reach and touch him, so close that he can imagine the heat of that touch that would soothe the cold that always presses under his palm no matter how many days he’s a human. He still doesn’t turn to try and lock eyes with him, knowing that once he did, he’d fall for it. He’d fall for the scheme. Jinu would laugh at him.
“I became a demon because I thought I was dragging someone down,” Mystery murmurs, low enough that a shiver runs down Baby’s spine. “They deserved better than me, so much better.”
Baby doesn’t respond, but he does take a sharper breath when a finger tangles with his own. It’s gentle, soft, and caring. The warm feeling spreads through his chest, familiar.
“You remind me of that person.”
That makes Baby look up, eyes wide. The warmth turns biting as it stabs at his ribs.
“It’s scary,” Mystery admits, unfazed by the newfound attention. “But it also feels good, to have that familiarity.”
Mystery interlaces his fingers with Baby’s and smiles when Baby doesn’t pull away. His hand lies limp, and he stares, mystified, as Mystery sways their hands gently between them. Streaks of sunlight filter in through the gaps of the windows, creating a golden shadow over the kitchen. The dishes lie forgotten in the sink, irrelevant, so the only sound that finds its way into the apartment is the buzz of people on the streets, chattering idly between each other, unaware of the world around them.
Baby suddenly knows what it feels like to feel the world narrow to that point, where it’s only a few people, even just two.
“It’s weird, you know. The dreams are probably because of you.” He says it so casually that Baby feels stupid for not picking up on the reason for starting this conversation.
Baby swallows. “Do you want to stop?”
His voice sounds so fragile. Mystery finally gazes up to meet his eyes, and the corners of them wrinkle, the gentle smile from before growing.
“No.”
Mystery reaches backward to unlock Baby’s other hand from the edge of the sink, from where he was grasping at it desperately to ground himself. He brings both of his hands together to enclose them in some sort of cradle. Baby stares at it for a while. Too long because he’s not ready to brace himself to be completely trapped in an embrace, tugged into Mystery’s shoulder. His first instinct is to break away and prepare to face the threat at face value.
He feels Mystery’s breath wisp at the strands at the side of his head.
“I can’t believe I found you,” he whispers. “But I want you to know that if I’m right, that you’re the reason, it means I’m not leaving, not even for a day, if it means I get to deserve this.”
A new feeling pricks at Baby’s eyes. It burns.
“You also deserved the other one,” Baby whispers.
Mystery laughs. “It also means I need you to accept it.”
Baby doesn’t know what he needs to accept, but Mystery also seems to know that because he pulls back just to cup his hands at the base of Baby’s neck. He looks at him as if he put the stars in the sky, like he has the answers to all his problems. The frustration from earlier is still there, but now there’s that bit of hope in his eyes that both tightens and loosens Baby’s chest all the same.
“You’re my friend,” Mystery says.
Baby responds immediately. “That’s not possible.”
Mystery raises his eyebrows.
He feels like a child again, like he’s still not understanding a concept so easy to understand. He glances down at where Mystery’s arms link to the hands against his neck and feels the way the heat from his oozes into his skin. It feels safe, it feels warm, it feels loving. Baby thought he’d never use the word so freely, if ever, but no other word makes sense, and no other word means the same. He’s a demon, but maybe even if all he’s known is heavy and suffocating, the possibility of comfort and kindness isn’t so far away.
“I hate you,” Baby says instead, but the words lack any spite. He doesn’t say “friendship”.
Mystery smiles as if he’s admitted it anyway.