Aaron wasn’t exactly knowledgeable when it came to architecture or interior design, but even he could tell his new apartment had what would be called “good bones” for something amazing. High ceilings, hardwood floors, beautiful crown moulding, and recessed bookshelves built right into the walls of the living room. The place even had iconic cast iron radiators. The plumbing fixtures were newer but just as nice, made of a sleek black metal or stone that matched the soaking tub in the master bath. Where it was lacking was furniture.
The apartment wasn’t empty — it was, in fact, fully furnished — but everything was just… bland. Even the area rugs were drab and boring. It was like the interior designer used by cheap hotels had done the place and been told to avoid too much color or personality.
Some people might have found the dull furnishings annoying, but Aaron was excited. To him, it was just stuff someone else had jammed into an empty space as placeholders and it meant he was going to be able to decorate the apartment basically from the ground up.
He’d never had new furniture that wasn’t from a cheap box store but, more importantly, he’d never had a large budget. From everything he’d seen of the Drakon, he would probably have an effectively unlimited budget. Even the sky might not be the limit of their casual wealth and he intended to use it to finally have a space that was truly and fully his.
Holy shit, I am really in my thirties, he thought with a smile.
The existential dread of realizing he was enamored with the pedestrian delights of the agèd aside, Aaron was still pretty stoked. Furniture, bedding, plates, flatware, even all new clothes… It might have been banal or shallow to be thrilled at the idea of buying clothes, but it was intoxicating nonetheless.
Aaron’s purchasing power and history with clothes — and pretty much everything else — was about the same as it was with furniture. He would buy clothes piece by piece and rarely anything that cost more than a hundred bucks, if that. A shirt here, a pair of pants there, or some off-brand or discount shoes, but mostly he just wore the same few things over and over until they wore out. His computer was the only real expectation and it had taken a long time to scrape the money together for that. It, too, was years old at this point and badly in need of an upgrade.
So yeah, he was pretty damn jazzed to do some shopping where he didn’t have to worry about which bills he might not be able to pay from the indulgence of it.
A deep yawn clawed its way out of Aaron. He still wasn’t feeling the kind of exhaustion he would expect after three days with almost no sleep, but he was definitely starting to feel a bit worn down. The improbable amount of food he’d just eaten was probably contributing to his loginess, too.
Worse, now that Aaron’s mind wasn’t actively engaged with anything, anxiety was starting to wriggle its way in. Thoughts about the weekend’s events — both wondrous and terrible, with all the unknowable ramifications that would arise from them — crept into the edges of his consciousness. If he didn’t find something to distract himself, they’d start chasing themselves around his head for hours.
Watching or reading something were decent distractions, and a video game would work if his computer were set up, but none of them would do him any good if he wanted to sleep. And he very much wanted to sleep. As it happened, he had the very best thing to help soothe his worries tucked away in a drawer in the bedroom closet.
There was something else that could alleviate a bit of the stress, too, but he’d need to at least open a window. That turned out to be trickier than he imagined, as the latch in his bedroom resolutely refused to budge even the slightest bit when he tried to unlock it.
After a couple minutes fumbling with it, he shook open his new phone and called Kiara.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Are my windows magicked shut or something?”
“Are you trying to sneak out?” Kiara inquired, the suspicion and disapproval clear in her tone.
“Just wanted a bit of fresh air before bed; I’m not trying to take off or anything.”
“Ah right, first day in the city, you have to get the authentic New York experience of hanging out on the fire escape. I get it.”
Aaron hadn’t considered that. In fact, he barely even noticed there was a fire escape on the rear wall of the building when he’d glanced out briefly earlier.
“It’s no problem, we can make this work,” Kiara said, “We’ll come hang out on our floor and keep an eye on things and you can soak up all the Uptown ambiance.”
“Sounds great,” Aaron replied. “So… the lock?”
Kiara laughed. “Right, I forgot. Use the keystone. That magic rock we gave you.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Aaron hung up, flipped the phone back down to its smallest size, then conjured the keystone from wherever it went, at least partly up his butt according to both Griffin and Tia. Sure enough, all he had to do was hold the flat stone against the window for a second and the lock slid open.
He clambered out onto the fire escape and found it reassuringly sturdy — no creaks, no squeaks, no swaying. He glanced up and saw Albert, Griffin, and Kiara, his three protectors, idly hanging out on the landing above, seeming as natural as could be as they leaned and sat around the metal enclosure.
When Aaron pulled out a cigarette and lit it, he heard the slightest creek above him. He glanced up to see the three guards had moved to the steps leading down.
“Hey, neighbor,” Griffin said affably.
“Uh… hi,” Aaron said.
Then he noticed that all three of his defenders had unlit cigarettes in one hand and lighters in the other. He was pretty sure those hadn’t been there a moment ago.
“All three of you? I thought only me and old people still smoked.”
“We’re older than we look,” Griffin said. “Sorta.”
“Okay, but you usually don’t see smokers under forty.”
“We’re all around there or older,” Albert said with his wheezy laugh. “Besides, no incentive to quit after becoming drakus.”
Aaron took a drag — his first since before the hospital if he was remembering right — and held it a moment. “What do you mean there’s no incentive to quit?”
Griffin ticked off his fingers. “Cost isn’t an issue, health isn’t an issue, and even the smell isn’t an issue with some simple magic.”
“Health isn’t an issue?”
Kiara shook her head. “Most physical ailments, sicknesses, and diseases can’t overcome our constitution, so we won’t get cancer, emphysema, COPD, or any of that.”
“It doesn’t even stain our teeth,” Albert added, grinning widely.
“Holy shit.” Aaron felt a little dizzy. “Holy shit! What about, uh, what about neurological stuff?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Kiara shared a look with the other two men with her on the landing and sighed heavily. “Psychiatric conditions are still a problem, although neurodegenerative stuff like Alzheimer’s or dementia are almost unheard of.”
“That’s possibly the most awesome thing I’ve heard about this whole thing, so far,” Aaron said, hoping his smile would seem genuine. It was amazing news, if not exactly what he might have hoped for.
“There are a lot of perks,” Griffin said, “but it’s not without its dangers. There’s plenty of people out there trying to take us out, even if only to say they bagged a dragon. It’s going to be worse for you, especially early on.”
That wasn’t surprising to hear. Barrett had told Aaron that the Drakon had plenty of enemies and he had survived one — probably two — assassination attempts before he’d had any idea about all this drakus stuff.
Although spending time having a smoke was a nice way to bond and the four of them had an otherwise pleasant conversation — read: mostly childish and stupid joking around — the experience was somewhat diminished because the three took their job seriously even when they seemed to be relaxing.
On a personal level, Aaron was accustomed to monitoring his surroundings. He had a semi-conscious tendency to scan and analyze everything around him, looking for threats — it was just a way his anxiety manifested itself. But seeing other people doing the same thing in a way that was both more subtle and more controlled, was a little jarring.
The trio was still pretty good company and easy to have a laugh with, so Aaron stayed out on the fire escape until he’d smoked several more cigarettes than the one he’d been planning on. Finally, he said his goodnights and went back inside to get ready for bed. The sun had fully set, even though it was still relatively early in the evening.
Back in the apartment, with the window closed, locked, and the curtains drawn, Aaron changed out of his clothes for a pair of loose, comfortable shorts. The clean clothes he’d put on after his shower went into the small pile in the bathroom.
They’re still technically clean, but wearing them two days in a row is a little too close to depression territory, he thought.
There was no shame in mental illness — well, certain kinds of mental illness; society still felt others were perfectly acceptable targets for mockery, disdain, and ridicule — but it wasn’t something Aaron wanted to advertise. Most people would assume laziness or dirtiness, not disability, so it was easier to just keep that stuff as hidden as possible.
That was much the same reason he wasn’t about to tell anyone about what he was keeping in a drawer in the closet. Before that bit of comfort, though, he had to get ready for bed.
He turned on the big flatscreen anchored to the closet wall where he’d be able to watch it from bed. His account wasn’t on this television yet, so he didn’t have any of his sleep playlists, but he could just go to one of his preferred channels and they’d have one. Lately, it had been videos about ancient civilizations and how they fell or disappeared from history. He started a video playing then went to prep the bed.
After pulling back the covers, Aaron discovered the sheets on his new bed were deceptively plain. At first glance, they were simple and unpatterned, but when he ran a hand over them, he found they were exquisite — soft, smooth, and cool to the touch. Beige, though, so they’d have to go.
Aaron used the restroom, washed his hands, and then, finally, he was ready to go get some comfort. Except…
He made sure to double check the door to the bedroom was closed and locked and the curtains on the window fully drawn. When he was confident in his privacy, he went into the closet and pulled open the uppermost drawer, which held his most treasured possession.
It was an unusual thing, Aaron’s secret, precious possession. It wasn’t because it was a battered old teddy bear or even because a fully-grown adult human man owned it, but because it was built so differently from any other teddy bear Aaron had ever seen. There must have been more out there in the world, though he assumed it had been a briefly-lived design that never really caught on.
Most stuffed bears were built around two sections — the head and a larger body — then things were attached to each section: ears, eyes and muzzle for head; arms, legs, and sometimes a tail for the torso. Aaron’s bear had been made of only one section, a long tube-like structure nearly two feet tall.
Wide, floppy ears had been put at one end for the head and nubby little legs attached on the underside, closer to the front so the bear could be made to sit and have its feet sticking out. It had long, flat, arms rounded at the ends — almost like fuzzy flippers — that were attached slightly above the middle of the tube and a very small tail in the back. That was how his bear had been built, not how it had remained.
Years of rough-and-tumble playing with the bear — including taking it with him everywhere until he was far too old — and using it as a makeshift pillow had deformed the stuffed animal’s structure, so that the bear was now effectively three distincts sections: a round, almost football-shaped head; a similarly plump lower body; and a flattened middle that was thinner than both ends, filled with holes, and completely lacking stuffing.
When the bear was manufactured, you could have set it on its rear and it would have stood upright without much, if any, support. Now, the body would bend in the middle and the head would flop over. That was something Aaron tried to avoid because he felt like it risked smooshing his bear’s head if he fell on it or something. There were a lot of lingering half-reasoned, little superstitious things around the bear he’d developed since he was a child.
Those weren’t the only changes to the poor old bear — the eyes had fallen off and new ones sewn on at least twice that Aaron could remember and the hard plastic nose had been lost before he could read or write, with only a small bundle of black fibers left to serve in its place.
Aaron lifted the careworn teddy bear out of the drawer and held it in front of his face. “Hello, Baby Bear. How’s the cutest pillow?”
“I’m very cute and very fuzzy,” Baby Bear said, nuzzling Aaron’s face with a stubby snout. “Snuggly, too.”
Except Baby Bear didn’t say anything and didn’t move; Baby Bear was a teddy bear and teddy bears couldn’t do those things.
Instead, Aaron talked for Baby Bear, moving the bear’s head around with one hand, almost like a puppet. He even provided a cutesy voice for the bear, higher in pitch than his own and with an ‘adorable’ lisp that turned many Ls and Rs into Ws, so that his own name was pronounced something like ‘eh-wun ay-bwums.’ It was a voice he’d used as long as he could remember; possibly longer, since he’d been given the bear the day he was born.
“That’s very true, Bear,” Aaron said, walking to the bed and setting the bear next to his pillows.
Once he was under the covers, Aaron picked the bear up and set it on his chest, lowering its head until the fuzzy snout was resting along one side of his own nose. He used a hand to manipulate one of the bear’s floppy arms, softly patting himself on the side of the head.
“So what’s been going on?” Baby Bear asked. “I’ve been in the box a while.”
“It’s been a year, at least, and a few more before that. I’m sorry I don’t spend as much time with you these days.”
“It’s okay, Aaron,” Baby Bear said. “I got more time than almost any other stuffy bear ever got. We’re usually forgotten after our kids is four or five, but you and me were bestest friends waaay longer. And I’m still around, getting snuggles!”
“That’s a good point, Bear,” Aaron said.
Aaron hadn’t had many other kids around growing up, so Baby Bear had been one of his only friends. He’d clung to the stuffed animal far longer than most children would have. Or so he thought.
He had no idea when, if ever, other kids had actually outgrown their stuffed toys. What he did know is that he had made the mistake of talking about his bear for far too long. While his family had given him a small amount of grief for playing with his bear as he got older, it was nothing to the flak he caught from other kids at some point after kindergarten. He had learned that his bear was a secret that had to be kept at home.
It wasn’t until he was much, much older that Aaron even started to realize what a load of bullshit that was. By then, the damage was pretty well and truly done and keeping his bear a secret was a deeply ingrained habit.
Baby Bear, as much as he was a reflection of Aaron, didn’t give a crap about any of that. “And you’re some kinda dragon, now!” the bear exclaimed. “That’s so cool. Like, you’re made of an S and a more different S. With consummate Vs! I’m very proud of you.”
The bear, manipulated by Aaron, stood and backed away from Aaron’s face a few inches. “But… maybe don’t breathe fire on me? Please? Because I’m a stuffy bear. And it wouldn’t be very good for my fuzz.”
A small, gentle smile formed on Aaron’s lips. It was a dumb joke — honestly, a very dumb joke — but it still amused him. Sometimes, he had no idea what he was going to make Baby Bear say before he was saying it; the bear’s personality was so well-practiced it was almost like having a second train of thought.
“Good point,” Aaron agreed. “Bears might be tough, but stuffy bears are pretty much the most flammable kind.”
“Yeah, but we can talk about that dragon stuff any time, though. I’d rather hear what I’ve missed in superhero movies, so let’s do that while we have some sleepytime snuggles. Start with the basics: how many new Batmans have there been?”
Aaron draped the teddy bear across the top of his face, covering his eyes and forehead with the middle, flatter section, so that the bear’s head and stomach pressed gently against the sides of his head. His head had grown too large to safely use the bear as a pillow and this was an alternative that reminded him of that childhood practice. He could settle down with his bear across the top of his face, doze off, and wake up to set the bear aside after a couple hours of sleep without worrying about damaging the stuffed animal.
As he lay there, Aaron continued to play out a mental conversation with Baby Bear, sharing inane details about pop culture and his own life. With the video playing in the background and his bear in his thoughts, it didn’t take long for Aaron to slip into a deep sleep.