Chapter Text
A chair
A table
A mirror (that wasn’t a mirror)
A cot with a thin blanket on top
That’s it; that’s all that was in the room. The lights beat down on him from above, their quiet, mechanical hum drilling into his skull.
He forgot how loud fluorescent lights were. He wished they would’ve at least given him a clock. Maybe then the ticking would drown out the insistent humming.
The cup of coffee, which had been in his hands for ten minutes, sent steam wafting up to his face. Its smell made his shoulders relax. He wasn’t sure when they started tensing.
He reached up to scratch at his face. Stubble poked at his fingertips. He rubbed his right hand where they stuck the IV in him hours before. When the paramedics pulled him out of the closet, he heard something about “severe dehydration”. He hadn’t realized how dehydrated he was himself until his pounding headache subsided. He inhaled the coffee again. God, he missed that smell.
The blanket the nurse gave him began to slide off his shoulders. He moved his hands from the coffee cup to pull it back up. His thumb gently stroked the material of the blanket. It was soft, almost feeling like cat fur. He bit on his lip a little as tears welled in his eyes. No, he can’t cry right now!
The door squeaked open. He startled, almost knocking over the coffee cup. Two men stepped in: one tall and burly, and the other much shorter than him. The shorter one pulled down the beanie on his head. A file folder was clutched in his other hand. The taller one cleared his throat.
“Hello sir, I’m Officer Foolish and this is Officer Quackity. You’re not in trouble; we just want to talk to you.”
He didn’t respond.
Foolish smiled gently.
“Can you tell us your name?” Foolish asked.
No response again. Maybe if he didn’t talk they’d leave him alone.
“You got a nickname at least?” he asked again.
He pursed his lips, staring back down at the coffee cup.
Quackity sighed.
“Look, we can sit here all day if we have to.” Quackity said. “Just give us a name and we can move on.”
He sat there, chewing on his lip. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He didn’t want to be there any more than they did.
He could see Quackity’s jaw clench, sending a shock through his body. He wanted to apologize, but a further lip bite brought him out of the rush of blood in his ears.
Quackity leaned forward.
“Got nothing?”
He stared at Quackity, brows furrowed a little. He didn’t even realize that the blanket had fallen off his shoulders until Quackity glared right back at him, sending chills down his spine.
Quackity huffed.
“Fine, guess we’ll be doing this the hard way.” Quackity opened the file folder, picking out a piece of paper and slamming it on the table, “is this you?”
The second he glanced down at the paper, his heart caught in his throat. He hadn’t seen that picture in–God how long had it been? The bright eyes and infectious smile stared back at him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He glanced back up at the officers sitting in front of him.
“Look,” Quackity told him, “if you’re lying we can find you in cont–”
Foolish cleared his throat.
“Quackity,” he warned.
Quackity sat back in the chair and folded his arms. He almost looked disappointed. Foolish gently took one of his shaking hands.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Foolish reassured him, “Hey, you don’t have to protect him anymore. Now tell us: is your name Roier Estrada?”
Roier nodded, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Foolish’s shoulders relaxed at that. “Good. Can you tell me how old you are?”
Roier opened his dry mouth to reply, but only a small squeak came out. He swallowed. “I’m twenty-three,” he replied in a gravelly voice.
Foolish nodded. “Do you know what year it is?”
“It’s 2024.”
“And what’s the date?”
“October 27th.”
“Good,” Quackity wrote something down on a sheet of paper, “do you have any family or friends you want us to contact?”
Roier raised his brow. “Shouldn’t you already have that?”
Foolish let out a loud exhale that sounded kind of like laughing.
“You know what? Fair point. We haven’t had much time to look at your file though.”
Silence filled the room, save for that godforsaken buzzing of the lights again.
Quackity leaned forward again.
“You went missing three years ago. Your family is probably worried about you,” Roier bit the inside of his cheek, “so why don’t we make this easy? You tell us what we need to know, and you can go home quicker.”
Where was home though?
“What do you want to know?”
Quackity leaned forward a bit more. He could feel Quackity’s breath on his face, making his gut twist into knots. The chair squeaked.
“Everything. And don’t skip out on any details.”
Foolish sighed and pulled Quackity back by his shoulder.
“Let’s start somewhere simple.” Foolish pulled a photo from the file; it was of a bar. A place that made Roier’s palms sweat and his jaw clench. “Tell us about the night you were last seen here.” His voice sounded lower, more commanding now. “Who was there with you?”
Roier pursed his lips. “My friends Jaiden, Rivers, and Mariana.”
“And what were you guys doing there?”
-0-
“Come on Mariana, it’s syllabus week. What are you even missing out on?”
Mariana rolled his eyes as he was dragged along the sidewalk. Roier had quite a few difficult classes this year, like Neurology and Organic Chemistry, so he wasn’t sure when he’d get another weekend to relax. Besides, Dante’s had a low cover that night, and they needed to be there early.
Rivers waved to them outside of the old brick building. Roier waved back, a huge smile spreading across his face. He hadn’t seen her in what felt like forever! Next to her stood Jaiden, who waved back with a small smile on her face. Behind them, cars began to fill into the small parking lot.
Roier embraced the two of them.
“It’s good to see you guys!” he shouted.
The bouncer outside raised a brow at the four of them before Roier placed twenty pesos in his palm, allowing the four of them in.
Roier loved the feeling of nightlife. The thud of the music in his ears and chest, the chatter of people around him, and the constantly changing colors of the lights sent electricity through his entire body. It was practically a high, and he lived for it.
He and Jaiden stood by the bar, Roier sipping on a beer he had bought a few minutes before.
“So,” Jaiden said. “How did your housing situation work out?”
Roier set the bottle down. His hand darted to the back of the other, but Roier quickly folded them. “Pretty great, actually. Mariana had to take some summer classes, so I just stayed with him.”
“And your abuelo didn’t give you any flack about it?”
He flinched a little at that question. “A couple of times, but he gave up eventually.” It wasn’t like he shouldn’t have been expecting Roier to not come home. He knew he’d stay away as much as possible, summer classes or not.
“Oh yeah.” Jaiden grabbed her bag. “Before I forget, happy belated birthday.” She held out a small box with a black ribbon on it. Roier gently took the box from her hands. “Sorry I didn’t mail it to you. I just didn’t know how your housing situation was.”
Roier smiled nervously as he tugged on the ribbon and ripped at the paper. Inside was a pair of red velvet gloves; he gasped.
“This isn’t—”
Jaiden smiled.
“It is. One step closer to completing Melissa.”
Roier briefly slipped the gloves on. On stage, nobody would see the scars on his hands. He just had to finish the dress and… Roier hugged Jaiden tightly.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Jaiden patted his back.
“Anytime. Just invite me to your first performance. And I’ll hold onto these for the night.” She glanced around, “I’m gonna go find Rivers. I’ll see you later.” With that, she disappeared into the crowd.
Roier sighed as he ordered another drink. He rubbed at the massive scar on the back of his left hand. Back in high school, he didn’t picture himself as someone who would be into drag, but when he was on the stage, he felt confident, more outgoing, more content. He wasn’t himself.
A hand touched his shoulder. Roier jolted, his head swiveling. An older guy stood behind him. He had grey hair and a dark beard. He shouted something at the bartender before immediately returning to Roier and smiling with too-perfect teeth. Roier’s gut twisted into knots. He hadn’t taken his hand off his shoulder.
“Hey,” the man greeted, his voice made Roier’s gut twist further, “how are you doing tonight?”
Roier opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He swallowed thickly.
“Fine,” he managed to squeak out. The bartender slid the guy some drink that Roier didn’t recognize.
“You mind if I buy you a drink?”
Roier shook his head, bringing his beer closer to his chest.
The man’s hand shifted on his shoulder.
“Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you’re quite a handsome young man.” Roier didn’t know how to respond; all he could focus on was the sweat accumulating on his palms, “You got a girlfriend?”
Roier bit on the inside of his cheek.
“Get your hands off me,” he said quietly.
Roier wanted to scream as his hand squeezed his bicep, saying something about how strong he was. Roier’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.
“Suficiente!” he said.
“Hey!” Roier’s head jerked towards the voice, “he said no. Back off man!” The older guy grumbled something before stumbling off, finally taking his hand off Roier’s shoulder.
He took a deep breath.
“Thanks, man, I was really scared there for a…”
The man sitting across from him was the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen. His blue eyes glistened when he looked at him like sea glass. His hair was messy, but not in an unbrushed kind of way. And his smile, god his smile. It was warm and inviting like everything would be alright with just its appearance.
He shrugged.
“Nã0 uma problema,” he held a simple glass of bourbon in his hand, “I’m sorry about that guy.”
Roier wanted to say it was no problem, but it was. The man took a sip of his drink.
“I’m Cellbit.” That was a beautiful name.
“Roier.” He almost took a swig of the beer in his hand, but he stopped. Right, that guy might have spiked it. He looked down and ordered another beer. Cellbit looked down at his phone, wrinkled his nose, and turned back to him.
“It’s crowded as hell here. You wanna chat over there?” he asked, pointing to one of the two person booths. Roier hummed in agreement, grabbing Cellbit’s hand as he swerved through the crowd. His grip was firm yet comforting, like their hands naturally linked together. Roier slid into the booth opposite of Cellbit.
“So Roier, I assume you’re a student at the university.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“What are you studying?”
Roier took a sip of whatever the hell he had ordered; it was nauseatingly sweet. “Psicología.”
Cellbit hummed. “I’m assuming you want to be a therapist.” Roier nodded. “Good, I’m sure you’ll help a lot of people.” His eyes seemed to trail off a little like he was lost in thought.
“So, what are you studying?”
Cellbit laughed. God, it was a gorgeous sound.
“I’m not a student. I’m a data analyst. So I make sure that everything is working smoothly for the company I work for. It’s almost like a puzzle to me, trying to figure out if all the pieces fit together.” Roier leaned on his hand. “I’ve always been into mysteries and puzzle solving since I was a kid. Growing up I thought I’d be a police detective.” Cellbit looked at him before his eyes darted away, a bit of red appearing on his cheeks. “Enough about me. Are you here with anyone tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m here with a few friends,” Cellbit nodded, his eyes getting lost in thought again. “you here by yourself?”
“Yep. Not much of a social guy myself. But I wanted to change things up tonight.” Roier heard his name being called from across the room. It took everything in him not to groan; he didn’t want to leave, but he knew Rivers would come looking for him soon. “I’ve gotta go.”
Cellbit flushed.
“Oh, okay. One second though!” He grabbed a receipt from his pocket and scrawled something on it with a pen.
“Here,” he said while sliding the receipt towards him, “in case you want to get coffee sometime?”
Roier smiled, slipping the receipt into his wallet. He squinted at it; a Petco receipt for cat food. He looked up to ask about it, but Cellbit was already gone.
Holy shit, he had a guy’s phone number! One that blushed at him! Roier wanted to tell Rivers about it right away, but something in him held back. Maybe he should wait until he’s had at least one date with Cellbit to tell them. So instead, he talked with his friends.
And then he drank.
And he danced with his friends.
And he drank some more.
Suffice to say, by the time midnight rolled around, Roier was sufficiently drunk. The air was starting to get hot. The moving bodies were too much. The music hammered against his skull. Jaiden and Mariana had already gone home at that point, leaving him alone with Rivers.
“Hey man, are you okay?” Rivers asked, her brows furrowed.
Roier swallowed thickly.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just need some fresh air for a minute,” He smiled, although probably not too convincingly judging by River’s face, “I’ll be back in ten, I promise.”
Rivers pursed her lips.
“Okay, just tell me if you want to go home.”
Roier hummed with acknowledgment and stumbled his way through the crowd. A few people shot him glares, but others didn’t seem to care. He found a door (was it the right door?) and flung it open.
The minute he got outside, Roier gulped in the night air. The soft breeze outside felt nice. He gagged before leaning next to a trash bag, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the alleyway ground.
“Fuck,” he groaned. Maybe he could find some old rag or mop to clean this up because he was not about to be the asshole who left someone else to clean it up. But that would imply he could bend over without his brain turning somersaults.
Roier’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out; it was from his abuelo.
‘Missed you over the summer! Call me when you can!’
He smiled before liking the message and slipping his phone back into his pocket. Fuck, he felt awful. Maybe he should grab Rivers and go home. Yeah, his bed sounded—
He heard something. It was soft and hard to hear over the bar music, but it was there. Roier crept closer, trying to keep his drunken feet from stumbling. There the sound was again: a whimper. His heart began to thump faster; sweat beaded along his forehead. If someone was in trouble, he had to help them!
As soon as Roier rounded the corner of the alley, his heart practically stopped.
There in front of him lay the creepy guy from the bar. And there was blood. So. Much. Blood. The man crawled away like a slug, whimpering and whining as he went. A trail of the red liquid trailed behind him.
And there, standing behind him with a knife in hand, was Cellbit. His once bright glittering eyes were now sharp and cold. The shirt he was wearing was gone too, leaving him in a blood-splattered white tank top. His scarred arms shook, his fists clenched. Roier covered his mouth as he shook. Maybe if he walked slowly and carefully, he could get out without him noticing. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he inched back. He was getting closer to the door now. He could be around people. He could get help—
Clink
Cellbit’s head snapped in his direction. Roier’s legs wobbled, and everything went black.
-0-
The first thing Roier noticed was his splitting headache. It felt like someone had split it open with an ax. If this is how being dead felt like, this was going to be a hellish afterlife.
Roier twitched his fingers. He could feel the scratch of something underneath his face. His back was sore. Wait, weren’t you not supposed to have a body in the afterlife?
“Sometimes I feel I’ve got to” -Thunk-thunk- “run away!”
Roier groaned. His fingers were turning numb. The smell of copper permeated the air. The ground underneath him lurched, launching him forward. His eyes flew open, only to be met with the sight of a blue tarp. Okay, maybe he’s not dead!
He went to rub his head, only to find a horrifying realization: he couldn’t move his hands. His hands were tied behind his back. He couldn’t move his legs either! Roier’s tried to yell, only to realize that his mouth was taped shut. His breathing became heavy. No no no, this couldn’t be real!
“I’ve got to…” Hands slammed on a steering wheel. “Get away!”
Was…was his kidnapper singing along to the radio right now? Roier shuffled toward a crack in the seats, and his heart dropped. There, in the driver's seat, sat a man with all-too-familiar brown hair. He hummed along to a song Roier couldn’t remember the name of, his finger tapping the steering wheel. Cellbit looked at him through the rearview mirror, the corners of his eyes turning up. His heart skipped a beat.
“Sorry I had to gag you. I just didn’t trust you not to scream.”
Roier squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way this was happening. This was all just some fucked up dream the alcohol conjured, and he’d be awake soon. There wasn’t…it couldn’t… Tears began to form. He had to be at home, right?
HONK
“Watch where you’re going!”
Roier’s body tumbled around in the trunk, only to be met with a solid wall. Only when he opened his eyes, blank brown ones met his. Roier screamed. The radio volume turned up. He wiggled around to get away from the corpse in front of him. It was only now that he realized his hair and skin was tacky with blood.
“Hey hey, it’s going to be okay! I’m not gonna hurt you!” But he could barely hear this reassurance over the blood roaring in his ears.
He’s gonna die, he’sgonnadiehe’sgonnadiehe’sgonnadie
They kept driving for what felt like forever. Tears silently dripped down Roier’s face as he lay on his back. His body trembled.
The car lurched to another stop.
“Listen to me,” Cellbit said. His voice was lower, more commanding now. “We’re almost to my house. I’m going to have to leave you in the car for a little bit. I’ll leave it running. Don’t…” He huffed. “Don’t try anything while I’m in there, okay?” Roier nodded frantically. He could behave! It wasn’t like he could run away.
Roier craned his neck to look out the unnaturally tinted windows. He could see a plateau far away and what looked like the peaks of a few houses. Maybe if he could get to those, he could get help. The scenery outside was soon replaced with grey concrete walls; the car stopped. He could hear the door open. Drawing a deep breath, the minute the back door popped open, Roier screamed at the top of his lungs. But instead of reacting, Cellbit scooped up the body (holy shit he was strong) and slammed the door back in his face.
Roier scooted around the back of the car. There wasn’t much back here aside from the tarp. Nothing to cut him loose or get the tape off. Nothing to bust the windows out with. Just him. Alone. Would he even come back for him? Roier’s eyes slipped closed.
Why did he even think to go to that stupid bar?
A door opened in the distance. The door opened, and Cellbit grabbed his ankles. Roier thrashed, kicked, and shrieked as Cellbit picked him up, the older man unphased. He walked through a kitchen (a seemingly normal kitchen at that) and towards a doorway that led into complete blackness. Roier’s kicking became more frantic as he shook his head. Cellbit sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s only for a little bit.”
The stairs to the basement creaked with each step Cellbit took. Pictures of a mangled body, bloody clothes, and the man’s face contorted in horror flashed in Roier’s mind. The door creaked open, sending chills down his spine. This is it, this is where his life ended.
But instead, Roier was met with the hard concrete floor. Cellbit sat him up against a wall and placed a hand on his cheek. He was still covered in blood, even more of it now. “I have to go upstairs for a bit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.
His stomach dropped. He let out a muffled sound of protest, but Cellbit got up and walked towards the door. When he turned back, he almost looked…sad. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
And with that, he closed the basement door, swallowing Roier in darkness.