Thinking it had been too long since when he had entered, Zan turned back the way he came. The light indicating the command center was close, thus he had wandered in circles. Maybe… Zan honestly did not know. The Backroads had a habit of twisting upon themselves, like a pretzel. Who knew how far he had come? For all he knew, he had stumbled upon a path straight to the command center, but only after he had gotten himself lost.

Regardless, Zan walked to the center’s light.

On his way back, was when, suddenly, a path born itself into existence.

Using the main path as its host, this new path burst out from the main road like a parasite bursting out from its host’s chest.

Seeing where the path ended, Zan saw a light of flame boasting both light and darkness. It was exactly the same as he last saw — it was the same fiery light as he had jumped into when he first encountered the ornate room.

Diverting his attention, Zan walked onto the new path, and sprinted toward the multi-color light.

Deciding against throwing himself into the flame, like last time, Zan instead gently stepped through the light.

Emerging from the flame and into the new space, Zan hoped well he was back in the bedroom of that young gentleman he encountered previously. Knowing his luck, he would wander into the chamber of the head executioner.

Allowing himself to adjust to the new space, Zan saw his vision unite, clear away the wobbly sight, and become real.

He was back in the bedroom. The ornate room.

He was standing right on the bed.

And — there was a form under the covers, a bulge from beneath the blanket.

Realizing he had teleported in while the young man was asleep, Zan jumped off the large bed, but forgot about the curtains which surrounded the bed. Becoming tangled as he fell, Zan yelped loudly as his covered form hit the floor. Untangling himself as best he could when it was both dark and he was still processing everything, Zan heard a sound from the bed. “What’s going on?!” the voice said.

Finally freeing himself from the entangled curtain, Zan scurried from underneath the collapsed bedspread. Having enough time to adjust himself to the partial darkness — light from a dying fireplace simmering — Zan kneeled his way into the closest space he saw; which, somehow, with some ill-luck, had been the closet.

Once he was within the closet, Zan heard the sleeping figure now fully awake and moving about outside the bed. He heard, “Who is there?” The voice was not loud, though. With his raging heart, Zan thanked the gods for his safe scurrying. And for even the boy not screaming and alerting every guard in the castle. Instead, the youth, using a strange handheld device, set fire to a torch on the far wall.

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Facing the brunt of his room, with everything before him and no surprise capable of sneaking up on him, the boy announced, firmly, but softly, “Whoever is there, come out. Come out now or I will… do something.”

Zan’s heart only beat faster.

And faster.

Am I going to have a heart attack?! Zan wondered. His mind raced.

Gasping for air, Zan could hardly breathe. Wild images of being found and executed, of being labeled a stalker and worse, echoed through his mind. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Because he was desperate? Lonely? What had gotten into him lately?

Crying out, but not with words, Zan made pained noises from his hiding spot as he tried — and failed — to calm himself. His head throbbed, he sweated. Calm down, calm down, he willed, but to no avail.

By now, the person in the room again called out: “I’m serious. Whoever is here, show yourself now.”

Although he felt like he would explode, Zan slowly, with shaking arms, complied.

Reaching for the door, he gently began to open the closet door.

Stopping, he realized he couldn’t! Not yet, it was too much.

“Okay! That’s progress!” the voice from the guy in the room said. “Just so I know, are you that same guy from a few days ago or a new fellow? I need to know… for reasons.” Seeing his chance to protect his intentions, Zan grunted, “The same!” hoping his peer would understand and see him as non-threatening, which he was!, but considering their circumstance, would be impossible to prove.

“Oh, sweet! So, are you a boy or a girl?” the guy asked.

Zan took in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly. Just as Jiehong taught me, he reminded himself.

“Are you okay? You sound like you’re in pain?” the voice asked.

Slowly, so slowly, Zan regained himself. Like storm clouds parting after delivering their terrible ruckus, Zan’s sudden anxiety attack faded into the background, leaving its marks on his shaking form. He continued his breathing exercises and focused all his will into breaking the bad thoughts in his mind; the thoughts forewarning him of societal excommunicated for his brash attempt to make a friend.

Barely aware he said anything, Zan yelped a curt word: “Boy! Guy!” He said suddenly, trying to let the other voice know they were of the same age. Young adults. Teenagers, whatever people wanted to call them, as youth aspiring toward adulthood.

Zan watched through the blinds as the formerly sleeping figure slowly slid down to his haunches. Was he waiting for him? Zan wasn’t sure, but the other guy said nothing. Continuing to get himself together, Zan willed rationality into his thoughts. The boy had not ratted him out. Not yet. Refusing to even consider the idea that the boy was conning him into revealing himself so he could shout loudly for the guards, such as clearly not what the boy wanted, Zan compelled himself back to reality.

“You doing better?” the voice asked. “I don’t hear that nasty, heavy breathing.”

He sounded like a caring guy. Zan blessed his lucky stars. Not only was he thankful for the lad not rushing him into a dungeon cell, he was thankful for his new potential, friend and his empathetic personality.

Eventually, Zan managed to speak another word, this time without the heavy weight of the universe under his tongue. He said, “Better. Almost.”

Through the blinds, Zan saw as the boy smiled. He whispered to the room, and to Zan, “Good!” What a sweet bloke.

Rising to his feet, Zan saw the other boy rise with him.

Zan placed his hand on the door and pulled it open.