Dinn found himself pacing back and forth in the confines of his own room. His ears straining to hear any sound from the rooms next to him. All he wants is to see Creed, but the thought of going up to his door and having nothing to say, scared him. He could still feel the touch of Creed’s fingers against his own. His skin was a lot rougher around his scars and markings, but he was still warm. It felt good after so many years of feeling cold. The small bites his nails took out of his skin were electrifying. That small touch meant so much more than the hug. This was Creed willingly coming forward to be near him, instead of the other way around. Was this finally proof that he also wanted to find what they’d lost? Dinn hoped desperately for that to be the case.

Now he paced anxiously, listening for any sign of Creed leaving his room. Their rooms may be relatively close compared to the others, but that didn’t mean listening for the small sounds of a door opening was any easier.

Dinn had felt almost relieved at Patient’s arrival. He’d sat in his room questioning his standing with his Creed too many times since the others arrived. But now, with another Creed here he felt like he could finally relax. Surely, they’d try to find some commonality within each other now. That was the whole point of this world, right? What else were they supposed to do now? It’s not like they could try and force any of the other couples together. Heck, they weren’t even sure if Patient was supposed to be with Fallen, Daemon, or some other Dinn that had yet to arrive. How were they supposed to know?

Just then Dinn heard a knock coming from down the hall. Pressing his ear up against the wall he wondered if someone was knocking on Patient’s door. Had he missed the sound of Creed leaving his room?

That’s when he heard a voice.

“Something wrong, Fallen?”

That was definitely Creed’s voice. It seems Fallen had no gripes in walking straight up to his door and talking to him. What did he want?

“No, not really. I…I just wanted to see you.”

“…Oh.”

Dinn could feel his stomach sinking to the floor. Why did it suddenly feel like Creed was drifting farther away from him? The space between them growing till he couldn’t feel that warmth he wished to covet. It made him angry. It made him furious. To think, everything he ever cared for would just be ripped away from him in a moment’s notice. How long? How long till this shaky alliance went away with the wind as well?

“I heard you’ve been helping Patient with his cane lately.”

Fallen said his voice sounding higher than normal.

“Actually, Dinn has been the one to help him out mostly.”

Creed responded, his voice raising as well.

“I tend to have experience helping people who’ve lost limbs or mobility. Dinn’s better at helping those who’ve lost senses. He even learned sign language during the war after Theo lost most of his hearing to a bomb.”

Dinn had felt his heart leap from his chest as Creed spoke of him. The way his voice rolled gently off his tongue sounded like he was reciting a poem. It made Dinn feel heroic, worthy of something more than what he was given. He’d hadn’t heard anyone speak highly of him in an exceedingly long time. Listening to it come from his former lover’s voice was music to his ears.

A sudden short intake of breath halted his thoughts.

“D-don’t!”

It was Creed again, frazzled.

“Don’t touch me.”

He breathed. His voice now shook as the air grew slightly warmer. Damn it Fallen! How many times had he warned him about the touching thing?! What was he up to know?

“But why? Creed I—”

“If he says don’t touch him, then don’t touch him!”

Dinn hadn’t even known when he’d swung open his door. But still, there he stood, grasping at its handle with enough strength to crack a bone. Let alone snap the metal off its hinges. He’d heard them through the walls. Heard the way Creed grew uncomfortable. But, more importantly, heard the way Fallen had grown insistent. That desperation tickling his voice. That feeling of being cornered crawling up his back. How many times had Fallen hurt them already with his need to be so close? His need to trample over the barriers they’d set up. How inconsiderate.

Fallen and Creed had stared back at him wide-eyed, unsure of when he’d started listening in. Creed’s look softened a bit as the room settled, seemingly thankful for the sudden interruption. Fallen, on the other hand, looked ready to pounce. His temper slowly rising as if he wanted to match Dinn’s. But this wasn’t something Dinn was going to back down on. Fallen needed to know that their boundaries they’d set up for each other applied to everyone. They were not to be taken lightly.

However, before anyone could speak, a sudden rumbling came from down the halls.

“You guys!”

Daemon shouted from a way away, thankfully. Appearing around the corner she quickly skidded to a halt in front of the trio.

“There’s something in the living room that you have to see!”

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Fallen didn’t really know what to make of the little ornaments that decorated their once bare walls. They hadn’t been here last night, or any of the night’s prior. Yet, Daemon had insisted that she didn’t create them. As did the rest of the group.

“What is it?”

Patient asked, tapping his cane against the floor as if to remind everyone that he is certifiably blind.

“Some sort of round…fuzzy objects?”

Fallen responded uncertainty evident in his voice.

“They almost look like…party balloons?”

Creed added, side-eyeing the weird objects. The group turned their heads toward him as if asking him to explain.

“Y’know those large balls filled with confetti that when you pull on them all of the confetti comes out?”

He said demonstrating a pulling motion as if he was tugging on a long ribbon and then closing and opening his palms as if to symbolize the confetti bursting from the contraption.

“I’ve never heard of such things.”

Daemon said, going back to staring at the odd white objects.

“I have, but only when I was a child.”

Patient said tilting his head back and forth as if to mock the motion of someone dutifully observing something in front of them.

“Seems like we all have one.”

Dinn said, crossing his arms. Fallen looked back at the party balloons, noting the small detail just underneath each of them.

“What do you mean?”

Patient asked once again tapping his cane.

“He means that they each have our names under them.”

Fallen responded humorlessly.

“Dinn, Creed, Fallen, Daemon, and Patient. Each of our names on a notecard underneath their balloons.”

He said reading out the names from left to right.

“Or should I say, underneath our balloons.”

“But how? Things don’t just appear in The Infinity?”

Daemon reiterated.

“We can make whatever we want, but things can’t be created without our express permission.”

“We can create things?”

Patient asked, looking up in an attempt to meet Daemon’s eye. She scowled intensely.

“Did you guys not tell him?”

She questioned the other three standing in the room with them. At the least they all had the wherewithal to look sheepish.

“It’s been a long week?”

Creed said attempting to sound apologetic. Daemon merely shook her head.

“We can talk about this once the other guy gets here.”

She snapped.

“What other guy?”

Fallen asked back.

“Isn’t it obvious? If none of us made these…things, then there must be some sixth person inside The Infinity with us.”

Daemon said exasperated.

“A sixth person…who knows all of our names and nicknames?”

Creed questioned halting Daemon in her tracks.

“And somehow knows the order in which all of us entered The Infinity? That can’t be a coincidence.”

He pressed. She huffed haughtily.

“Anything can be a coincidence.”

“No, no I think he’s right.”

Fallen interjected.

“Of course you do.”

Daemon muttered, failing to grab anyone’s attention.

“If there was some sixth person here with us, they’d have to know more about us than I think they’re capable of.”

“Could it be them then?”

Dinn asked looking back and forth between Creed and the other three.

“Them?”

Patient asked haughtily.

“The Beings. The one’s who brought us here in the first place.”

Holding up his hands as if to stop the barrage of questions sure to come, Dinn continued.

“I know they’ve never done anything like this before, but I also know they must be watching over us. They wouldn’t leave us in an infinite space with the ability to create anything we want to without at least some parameters.”

“And those parameters being?”

Fallen pressed.

“Their constant watchful eyes? Maybe they’ve seen we’re getting farther in this little ‘game’ they set up for us, so they gave us something to…”

He paused.

“Take home with us once we’re finished?”

Patient finished tapping his crooked nails on the side of his cane.

“I suppose it makes sense. In the end aren’t we supposed to be going home with our ‘one true love?’ Makes sense to give us a party favor as a parting gift. Though it is quite juvenile.”

He huffed, clearly displeased at the idea of being treated like a child. Fallen imagined he got that a lot due to his size. However, before any of them could speak up about the theory, Patient cleared his throat.

“So, about that little ‘being able to create anything you want’ thing.”

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Creed found himself stepping out of their shared home once again. Though he didn’t go nearly as far this time. Their oddly shaped house was still in view as he stood soaking up the absolute expanse of The Infinity. The amount of people he was surrounded by on all sides was becoming suffocating. He really didn’t know how many more personalities he was going to have to handle. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped for a Dinn to show up and then that Dinn’s Creed to show up right after. They could say their quick hellos, and then be off into their world together. He hadn’t considered how many souls would be left wondering aimlessly throughout these halls.

Taking in a deep breath, he was once again reminded that The Infinity had no smell. Frustrated he sighed audibly, ringing his hands together and scraping at his palms. He wasn’t sure why this frustration always made him itch.

Back home he could step out of his cabin and smell all sorts of scents in the air. Whether it be the scent of his garden, the smell of nearby campers, the smell of the old wood, or even the smell of animal feces. Whatever it was, there was always a smell that reminded him where he was. It kept him tied to the present. Now with nothing around him but white, his sense of time and direction was gone. He felt lost.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Turning quickly Creed saw Dinn standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head disappearing into the fluff that was his jacket. Sighing Creed turned back around.

“No, not really.”

Dinn was at least a personality that he could gauge. Being around him was a bit easier than the others. Hearing someone else talk was at least somewhat grounding, even if the words weren’t always nice. Dinn sidled up next to him, seemingly content to remain quiet as if the mimic Creed.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Dinn asked, his eyes shifting between the expanse and Creed.

“I’m afraid you’ll come back with change.”

Creed responded not taking his eyes off the expanse. Sometimes he just needed a moment to exist. No thoughts, nowhere to go, nothing to do, nothing to distract him. He realized this didn’t really make him an interesting person to talk to, but if he cared about being interesting, he wouldn’t be here.

Dinn shifted a bit, clearly not used to standing so still. Creed almost had to laugh at that. He used to be the one bouncing all over the room, but now he could barely run without tripping over his own two feet.

“Do you like the forest? Back at your home?”

“It was my second choice. So, yes, I do enjoy it.”

“Second choice? What was your first option?”

It was Creed’s turn to shuffle in place. Over the years he’d found comfort in his own little world back home, but he never did stop thinking about what would have been if he’d gone with his first option.

“The beach. I originally wanted a house right up against the ocean where I could see the seagulls flying overhead and walk out onto my porch and smell the ocean air every morning. Even on stormy days I feel like I would still find a way to enjoy myself.”

Creed could almost picture the shore now. The sand underneath his feet, the waves crashing in all around him, and the sky, oh the sky. He’d wake up at the crack of dawn just to watch the sunrise. A myriad of oranges, yellows, purples, and reds would coat the sky. Reflected off the water the whole world would dance with color. The smell of the air would be even better. The crispness of the morning dew. The cool breeze that would wash over him on any given day. Wouldn’t the world just be so beautiful then?

“So, what stopped you?”

Creed had to chuckle.

“People stopped me.”

He shook his head looking down at himself.

“Turns out a lot a lot of people want to be at the beach all the time. Far too many for me to handle. Even worse would be the vendors taking up residence right next to my home. Brining in tourists, partygoers, and young people alike. I decided that the noise would be far too much.”

Ringing his hands together he once again scratched at his palm. The thought of never having a moment of peace was enough to drive him crazy. He needed time to himself more than anything. Still, despite his reservations, he’s never felt confident about his decision.

“Once again it was just my emotions that got the better of me. My fear that stopped me from doing what I wanted.”

Creed found himself pinching the skin around his thumb hard. The rough texture quickly gave way and cracked under his pressure as the redness shone through. How many opportunities had he lost because he feared the outcome? How many people had he lost because he feared they’d leave him, so he left first?

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Creed?”

Snapping his head up Creed met Dinn’s eyes as he stood just in front of him. Dinn’s hands were hovering around where Creed’s were wrung together. As if he wanted to hold his hands. With a sharp intake of breath Creed pulled his hands back to his chest.

“Creed…”

Dinn paused his eyes darting back and forth as if he was arguing with himself about what he wanted to say.

“Why don’t you like touch?”

Creed felt like a sudden great weight had fallen onto his shoulders. Dinn had never been so direct with his questioning. What had changed? Why was he so keen to know about Creed’s boundaries? Was it not enough that Fallen was willing to break them any chance he got?

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to know!”

Dinn shouted. The world around them pulsed to life, sparks dancing over the sterilized surface of The Infinity. A rush of adrenaline took over Creed as he tried to step back.

“When did you stop trusting me?”

He pressed. The tingling sensation grew fraying the ends of Creeds hair. The rush of static through his body gave him goosebumps and slowly his body began to heat up.

“How many years have we known each other, Creed? How much shit have we gone through together?”

Dinn rambled on, his voice wavering. Creed stared at him through the corner of his eye, watching the yellow and blue sparks grow as they crawled up his arms. Slapping his hand over his mouth, Creed felt like he was ready to hurl. His body heat continued to grow to an uncomfortable level as he tried his best to shrink away from Dinn. He didn’t want to blow up now. The mixture of Dinn’s electricity and Creed’s fire would destroy them, surely. Still, the languid purple glow grew on his shoulders as the flames sprouted quietly.

“I don’t understand how you could just…forget all that. And now I can’t even touch you—"

“Why do you still act like you know me?”

Creed’s voice cracked violently as he tried to speak over Dinn.

Dinn had stopped abruptly, looking confused.

“Why do you…act like we haven’t been separated for years?”

Dinn reeled back, the tingling sensation suddenly depleted. It was like he was seeing Creed for the first time again, and the sight was shocking.

Creed clawed at his cheeks till lines were scratched deeply into his skin. His pupils were dilated, and his breaths were weak and shallow. He held himself, his arms wound tightly around his chest and head. He had certainly shrunk down at Dinn’s words, his knees buckled under him as he leaned far away from the other. Small puffs of fire ran over his shoulders and down his back, glowing brightly, but feeling almost cold even at such a short distance.

Creed looked terrified.

“I don’t know who you are, Dinn, and you don’t know me. I’m afraid what we’ve been through… it means n—”

“Don’t say it!”

Dinn shouted covering his ears and shaking his head.

“Please don’t say it! I can’t imagine…I can’t imagine everything we’ve been through…”

Dinn was still shouting, but the sparks that had once covered his body were gone. There was no fury to his words, rather there was desperation. A mix of sadness and shock.

“I can’t imagine it all…meaning nothing.”

For once Dinn’s breaths sounded ragged as he held his stomach. As if a large weight had fallen onto him Dinn kneeled on the ground. Creed found himself a bit perturbed by the sudden mood shift. Ever since they entered The Infinity Dinn had been angry, obsessive, Creed couldn’t recall a time when he looked so small. Standing tall from his once crouched position Creed could just look down at his ex-lover. He wasn’t sure what to do, not knowing how to comfort him this time. What he said was true, wasn’t it? They’re two different people now. There’s no way they could still know so much about each other.

With a short inaudible sigh, Creed kneeled to down to be at eye level with Dinn. He still wasn’t looking at him, his eyes glued to the floor and a look of pain stretched across his face. He was sweating. Slowly Creed lifted his hand towards Dinn who remained perfectly still. He could feel the heat wafting off of Dinn in waves. Was he embarrassed by his outburst?

Carefully Creed lifted strands of Dinn’s hair up and away from his face, tucking them neatly behind his ear. Dinn watched his movements silently.

“You’re burning up.”

Creed said, his hand still hovering around Dinn’s head.

“Do you want to take your jacket of—”

“No!”

Immediately Creed retracted his hand as if it had been slapped. Dinn shook his head back and forth, clutching the fur of his jacket. Resisting his desire to run from the scene, Creed sat back down on his knees. He’d become so flighty lately.

“It’s alright.”

He said, voice raising barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Both men refusing to look up at the other, fearful that they might say something wrong again.

“I never wanted to be like this.”

Creed’s head whipped up at Dinn’s words. He hadn’t found the courage to break the silence on his own, so he was glad that Dinn did, but he didn’t understand what he meant.

“Angry all the time, yelling at everyone, pushing people away…losing everything…”

He continued, still averting his eyes.

“Who does that?”

He shook his head. Creed swallowed harshly. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask. Why was Dinn angry all the time? Why was he insistent on knowing about Creed’s boundaries? Why was he still here? But were those questions worth it to inevitably push Dinn further over the edge?

“I…dammit.”

Dinn stammered.

“Creed I…I want to be happy again.”

Raising his head Creed could finally see Dinn’s eyes, glazed over with tears refusing to spill. He could feel the warmth building back up in his chest, but for once it didn’t feel like shame. Rather he felt a growing glow of sadness ripping through him like candle wax in his veins. Dinn was looking at him with such sincerity in his eyes. His words were quiet but firm. Was he really baring his soul out to him, here? In the center of The Infinity.

“Every time I think back to a time when I was happy…I think of you.”

Dinn chuckled humorlessly.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you for a long time. Call me obsessive if you will, but…”

He paused.

“That’s why when you remind me that we’ve changed. When you remind me of how long it’s been. If you say our past doesn’t matter…it hurts.”

Creed clawed at his pants nervously as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“It hurts because…that’s all I’ve had to hold onto for so long. And I’m afraid…I’m afraid that what I love will be ripped away from me again.”

The two fell silent again, this time holding each other’s gaze for longer than they were used to. Creed could feel his warm tears sliding down his cheeks, but he didn’t cry out. It was like he couldn’t. In the wake of Dinn’s sorrow he didn’t feel it appropriate to cry out and cause a scene. In the wake of Dinn finally opening up to him about why he’d retuned to him those some odd weeks ago, he could only sit and stare.

Dinn wanted to change. He didn’t want to be this loud bombastic man that his life had turned him into. He wanted to be happy again. To be understanding. To see his life as something worth working for. Creed couldn’t say he was unfamiliar with such a sentiment. Many times over the years he too had wanted to change his disposition, but he had found it too hard to commit to all on his own. So, instead of forcing people to deal with his manic emotions, he had isolated himself deep into the wilderness to hide his shame.

And yet here Dinn sat, having those same feelings.

“I’m sorry.”

Creed croaked.

“I…I never thought how my words had been affecting you like that.”

He scoffed.

“It appears you’re right about me tuning off my emotions in order to live. I was doing it to protect myself, but I never stopped to think how such crass language could affect others.”

Creed shook his head moving to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Our past does mean something. Whether we are together or apart our past still influences us. It’s wrong of me to say it means noth—ah!”

Suddenly a rough patch of Creed’s skin caught on his cheek, stinging him. Looking down at his hand he could see a small line of red wiped across his finger.

“Creed! Your cheek is bleeding!”

Dinn proclaimed. Oh right. He’d been scratching at his cheeks when he’d grown anxious around Dinn’s yelling. His body had started to itch as it burned up from the inside out, but he didn’t think he scratched hard enough to draw blood.

“I’m sorry! Because of yelling you were panicking and—”

“And because of my lack of empathy you were sent spiraling.”

Creed cut Dinn off. He hated making Dinn feel like he needed to apologize like that. He hated that the spotlight was now back on him, as if Dinn hadn’t just laid out all his emotions in one go. This wasn’t about Creed. This wasn’t even about Dinn. This was about both of them together and apart.

“We haven’t been the kindest to each other, have we?”

Creed laughed bitterly.

“I still care about you.”

Dinn’s head shot up from where he sat, his eyes wide.

“I don’t know if we could ever love each other again, but I care about you. I don’t want to hurt you, Dinn.”

“I care about you too.”

It was stated so matter-of-factly that Creed had no choice, but to believe it.

“That’s why I worry when…when you look so scared when anyone tries to touch you. Let alone me.”

Ah right. Dinn had originally asked him why he doesn’t like touch. Creed felt the urge to stay tight lipped about it, but looking back at Dinn, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, Creed sighed audibly.

Dinn had bared himself out already, it was his turn now.

“Touching hurts me. I don’t remember a time when it hasn’t.”

Creed looked everywhere but at Dinn.

“It’s like…as if I’m being burned whenever it happens.”

He continued rubbing his arms slowly. From the corner of his eye Creed noticed a small white object in front of him. Looking over he saw that Dinn was handing him a small towel. Right, he was still bleeding.

“Thanks.”

He said picking up the towel and pressing it gently to his cheek. Dinn sat back and cleared his throat.

“You can be burned?”

Dinn asked. Creed chuckled, staring down at his towel as small streaks of red coated it slowly. Looking back up at Dinn his small smile quickly faded. Dinn had no humor to his face, only looking at Creed completely serious.

“You’re joking right?”

Creed responded looking in between Dinn and the expanse of The Infinity. To his surprise, Dinn shook his head.

“I figured since I can’t get electrocuted because of my electricity powers…you can’t get burned because of your fire powers?”

The last part of the statement ended up sounding more like a question as Dinn gave him a raised eyebrow look. Creed stared back at him blankly for a moment. He shook his head and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words to do so.

“If you were…”

He tried to begin.

“If you were attacked by a million volts of electricity…do you think you’d be able to protect yourself from every single volt?”

Creed asked once again looking everywhere but at Dinn. Dinn’s eyes narrowed. He had been electrocuted before, but realistically it was with things like a taser or a small electrical rod. He’s never been struck by lightning nor had a whole horde of electricity come at him all at once.

“Probably not.”

He shrugged.

“But I feel like I would still have to be electrocuted to know what it feels like. So how do you know what it’s like to be bur—”

Dinn stopped in his tracks once he looked back up at Creed. His face had gone ghostly white to the point that even his red and orange markings faded into his skin. He held the towel in his hand as if he was about to press it to his face but stopped himself. He gaped at Dinn for a moment before his expression suddenly broke into an anxious almost maddening chuckle.

“Oh my God, you don’t know.”

He said, his chuckle towing the line of hilarity and sadness. It sounded like if he was about to cry at any moment.

“What don’t I know?”

Dinn asked, louder than he had expected. Creeds sudden change in demeanor was confusing and upsetting. And Dinn certainly didn’t like being laughed at. Instead of answering Dinn’s question, Creed took the small towel and covered his face with it, still heaving back and forth. At that point Dinn couldn’t tell if Creed was laughing or crying. Probably both.

“Creed?”

Dinn pressed.

“Creed what don’t I know.”

Dinn sat there, staring at the other man rock back and forth as this odd “laughter” slowly went away, yet he still refused to face him. He preferred to have that cloth situated over his face. The rocking motion was new, he’d never seen Creed do something like that before. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but he pointedly reminded himself that Creed felt like he was being burned whenever he was touched.

Eventually, Creed slowly dropped the cloth from his face. On the other side he looked sullen and distant.

“Cree—”

Before Dinn could finish, Creed was moving from sitting on his knees to having one leg out in front of him. His leg was bent upwards towards him at his knee as he slowly unbuckled his shoe. Dinn didn’t say a word as he watched his former partner’s shaky hands undo the latches. Once they were all undone, Creed gingerly took his shoe off. After placing it to the side Creed grabbed the end of his pant leg and paused. Taking in a shaky breath, Creed lifted his pant leg up to his knee.

Dinn’s sharp inhale of breath was reflexive as Creed showed him his leg. He stared wide eyed, mouth agape, and breath refusing to enter his body. Creed’s leg had large red marks going up and down where the skin looked significantly wrinkled and agitated. A spiderweb of white scar tissue engulfed his entire leg. Parts of it almost looked a deep brown where the skin appeared roughest. The skin appeared to fold in on itself and create ripples of several lines of welts. This scar was nothing like the ones on his fingers. This scar was massive, all encompassing, and still looked painful even after being fully healed.

Dinn didn’t realize he was staring horrified until Creed rolled his pant leg back down and rushed to buckle back up his shoe. Once doing so Creed held his leg to his chest and breathed slowly and firmly. Dinn wanted to say something, to ask something, but he just didn’t know what.

“They’re both like that.”

Creed said, breaking the silence.

“Both legs…they go up further.”

Despite the bombshell Creed dropped on Dinn, he sounded hauntingly calm, as if this is something he could deal with because it’s something he understood.

“But…”

Dinn tried to start.

“But where? How? When?”

Dinn pressed, eyes darting back and forth on the floor. Creed shook his head.

“Do you remember…the volcano?”

Suddenly a rush of memories came flooding back to Dinn. The volcano stronghold, the troops that were sent there, the barrage, the massacre, Donyun, Creed found to be the only survivor, the description of Creed’s mangled and torn up body afterwards, and finally the realization. Dinn had never seen Creed’s body after the incident. He’d only heard about it.

“Oh my God…”

He said softly.

“Oh my God!”

He shouted suddenly, grabbing at his scalp, tears almost instantly springing to his eyes.

“Creed I’m so sorry! I had no idea that—”

Once again, he was cut off by the look that Creed was giving him. It was firm, jawline tense, eyes focused and trained on him. He shook his head.

“When did we see each other again after that?”

Dinn paused as he felt like Creed suddenly changed the topic. He went through his catalog of memories, searching for the right one.

“I had been sent to the Livingston Camp for the air raid. You were transported there by train several months after.”

Dinn recollected slowly. Creed nodded looking away.

“I see. Anyway, that’s how I know what it’s like to be burned.”

Creed said nonchalantly. Dinn shook his head confused. How could Creed mask his emotions at a time like this?

“So, whenever someone touches you, you feel that—”

“Yes.”

There was that hard look again. And with that Creed stood from his spot.

“We should make sure the others are doing okay. No need to keep them waiting.”

Without another word or look in Dinn’s direction, Creed walked back towards the makeshift home. Dinn didn’t move from his spot. He couldn’t. As he watched Creed’s figure shift and get smaller as he walked further away, Dinn sat staring off into the distance. He felt like he needed to say something. Needed to call out to Creed. But what would he say? Would he try to comfort Creed? He can’t still be in pain after all these years, can he? Or would he try to apologize again. Looking back down at the spot he just left, Dinn paused. Creed was able to mask his emotions very well. To the point that it was almost scary how quickly he could go from one extreme to the next. In that moment, when Dinn felt like he was going to break down and grovel at Creed’s feet apologizing, Creed had shook his head. He looked at him with a hard stare, as if looking straight through him, and he shook his head. Creed didn’t press Dinn’s apology. In a way, it felt like he didn’t even want to hear it.

He didn’t want to hear Dinn’s apology for abandoning him after the volcano stronghold incident.

He didn’t want to hear it because it meant nothing to him.

Because that would be the one thing that he’d never forgive Dinn for.

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Daemon and Patient sat opposite each other on two separate couches, a small coffee table in between them. Daemon tried her hardest to lean down far enough so she wasn’t towering over the small figure that was Patient, while at the same time trying not to hover too closely to him. Fallen had scurried off to heaven’s knows where after the incident with the “party favors.” Creed had meekly said he was going out to get some fresh air, and Dinn had followed shortly after. This left her as the only other body in The Infinity to teach Patient about how to make objects out of nothing. However, as Patient sat across from her, a sudden rush of anxiety coated her every movement. Patient seemed to have a habit of tapping his mismatched nails on his cane or tapping the darn thing on the floor when he was speaking. The tiny thing couldn’t stay still for more than two seconds! As Daemon sat there twiddling her thumbs, she felt as if this eyeless man was looking straight through her. Hearing things and seeing things that even she didn’t want to acknowledge. It was nerve wracking, but at the same moment, almost exhilarating.

“So, what do you want to make?”

She asked shrugging her shoulders. Patient froze for a moment, then readjusted himself so he was leaning a bit more forward in his seat.

“How about a cup. I am awfully thirsty.”

He replied shrugging his shoulders.

“Great!”

Daemon said clasping her hands together. A move she instantly regretted as Patient cringed violently and brought his hands to his ears. The sound of her sudden outburst of enthusiasm and her clap was a little too much for the small man.

“Oh sorry!”

She said hands shooting up as if in defense. Patient held his ears a little tighter till Daemon noticed she had shouted again.

“You are…quite loud, really.”

Patient responded, rubbing the sides of his head as his hands slowly slid down to his lap.

“Sorry.”

Daemon responded making it a point to sit on her hands to avoid further issues. Licking her lips, she spoke terribly softly.

“So, what kind of cup do you want to make?”

She said trying to bring the topic back around as she rocked back and forth. Almost as if on cue, Patient began rocking to match Daemon’s rhythm.

“How about a teacup?”

Daemon smiled and nodded before she realized Patient couldn’t see her.

“That sounds perfect.”

Patient stopped rocking and looked down at where he assumed the table to be.

“So, do I just say it?”

He pressed, cocking his head to one side. Daemon stopped rocking and looked up towards the ceiling.

“I suppose I usually just think of something I need or want, and it comes to me. I can usually visualize what it is and then I say again in my head what I want.”

She explained, her smile growing broader as she felt like she was nailing her explanation. However, Patient looked up at her seemingly unimpressed. His lips formed into a tight thin line spread across his face.

“Well, visualizing won’t really do wonders for me.”

Patient stated pointedly as he nearly jumped from his seat in order to lean forward.

“I haven’t visualized anything in years.”

He said haughtily. Daemon paused and brought her hand up to sheepishly scratch behind her neck.

“Heh, sorry. I guess I’ve never really met someone who’s blind, so I don’t know how it works.”

Patient seemed to pause in his seat as well. His haughty attitude suddenly distant as he slowly sat himself back up, leaning over to close in on himself. He didn’t seem upset anymore, but Daemon couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I know what they’re supposed to feel like. I’ve held one before…I think.”

Patient continued tapping away on his cane. Daemon nodded strongly.

“Okay, then why don’t we start there. Try and visualize with your hands what you remember feeling.”

Patient paused as he looked up at Daemon. Uncomfortable with her attention, he backed away further into his couch. Slowly he set his can to his side, his head shifting back and forth as if he was looking for something. Cupping his hands closely together, Patient began to tap his foot. Daemon swore he was saying something under his breath, but she couldn’t hear it.

Daemon suddenly went rigid, breathing very shallowly. She felt like she couldn’t make a single sound as Patient stared down at his own hands. Would she be too distracting? Her eyes shifted back and forth between the corners of the room as if she couldn’t even look at Patient. He is so small, and yet is very intimidating. She couldn’t tell if he was judging her or questioning who she is.

“I can feel that you know.”

Daemon perked up. Patient lifted his head from his hands, staring up at her face.

“You’re anxious.”

Oh…oh.

“Sorry.”

Daemon responded with a deep sigh. Patient sat up from where he was once hunched over. Patting his hands on his clothes he clasped them together and looked back up at Daemon.

“Why are you anxious?”

Patient asked. Daemon paused. Shifting her eyes back and forth, she didn’t know how to answer his question.

“Are you scared of me?”

He pushed.

“No!”

Daemon chirped before quickly putting her hands over her mouth. She was being too loud again.

“No, I’m not scared of you.”

“Then, why are you anxious?”

He repeated. Daemon shook her head.

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

Patient sighed.

“You’re exceptionally large and could toss me across the room with a flick of your wrist. So, you really have no reason to be afraid of me. So, it must be something we’ve talked about that made you anxious. Did we say something odd?”

Daemon shook her head.

“I don’t think so. It might just be…”

She paused.

“I’m not really sure how to act around you. I don’t know if my…loudness…will interrupt the way you live since you depend on listening rather than seeing.”

Daemon wrung her hands together. She wasn’t the best companion when it came to discussion. Her voice boomed loudly all throughout the woods she lived in. It was meant to intimidate those who dared try to enter her territory, but it was wholly useless as a vehicle for conversation. She was always a little “too much” for people. Even for other demons.

Patient smirked.

“You think it’s bad that I can hear you better?”

He asked incredulously. Daemon looked back over to him confused.

“Don’t you find it bad that I’m too loud?”

“I must admit, I’m not used to it, but it is easier for me to follow than the silent ghosts that stalk these halls. It took me five minutes to realize Fallen and I had been in the same room because he nary said a word to me.”

Patient said, his voice growing sarcastic by the end. Daemon still felt confused, she’d never heard anyone tell her anything more than to just be quiet.

“Still, I can be quieter when you need me to.”

She spoke somberly.

“Your insistence on changing your voice is not odd to me. Heaven knows I’ve done terribly similar things myself.”

Patient shrugged.

“But don’t feel compelled to change drastically for me. It should not be your prerogative to conform to my standards.”

Patting the seat next to him, Patient picked up his walking cane and stood up.

“Why don’t we try this again some other time. I feel too anxious now to continue.”

He said looking towards the doorway.

“Right, sorry. I’ll try to keep that in check for next time.”

And with that, Patient nodded and slowly exited the room. Daemon watched his form disappear around the corner. It wasn’t until she could no longer her the gentle scrape of his cane sliding across the floor that she felt like she could finally relax. Slouching back on the couch with a loud sigh, she looked up towards the ceiling.

Patient was certainly odd. Maybe even more so than Creed. At times, his mannerisms didn’t feel completely his own. As if he picked them up from watching someone else, but how could that be possible. And what he said, to not conform to his standards. What were those standards? Did he mean that he did want someone quiet, and that Daemon shouldn’t bother with herself because she’d never be that person? Or was that a standard that she’d only imagined for him and one that he didn’t actually have? Despite his size he wasn’t particularly quiet, and seemed intelligent to boot, but still, there was something off about his mannerisms.

What was he not telling her?