“Oof! Al!” And it was about then that Finn noticed the entire neighborhood was watching this little spat unfold. He laughed weakly. “I..uh. We…um. I…know him. Really!” Oh, I am going to be on the news… He picked up the stone-drunk surfer and hauled him bodily into his house, kicking the door shut.
It was very slow, the following morning. Alastair woke up and for the first hour wished he hadn’t. The shades had all been drawn, the fragments of pitcher cleaned up, the floor mopped. The smell of margaritas and ammonia lingered in the air.
“You’re up.”
Alastair jumped. Finn. “Fuck you.”
“I made some coffee.”
“Fuck your coffee.”
“And some eggs.”
“Fuck your eggs.”
“The dog died.”
“Fuck your do—stop that.”
“Just checking.”
Alastair took the coffee. He was naked still. Had been for a week of in-house drinking. At this stage of the game, he really, REALLY needed a shower. “Fuck your checking.” But he said it with a smirk. “You were here the whole night?”
“No.”
“You left me like that?”
Finn sighed. “I can’t sleep here.”
“Yeah. Got that. Prick.” No smirk there.
“I can’t sleep here because I’d burn your house down if I did.”
Alastair blinked blearily. His Mohawk leaned way over to one side like he was caught in a gale. “…what?”
“My…light-show. It’s not just lights,” Finn said. “Anything caught in it that can burn, does. Once I caught a lizard in it. I cooked the thing from the inside out. Almost instantly. I’ve set fire to trees, asphalt roads, carpets, you name it. Anything combustable.”
“People?”
“Never tried. Probably.”
“…wow.”
“And I can’t control it.”
Alastair shook his head. “You’re controlling it now, dickwad.”
Finn wobbled his head. “I can’t control it all the time, I mean. It’s…it’s my body’s natural state. When I fall asleep, it turns on. I can turn it off when I am awake, but not when I am asleep. Or unconscious. Or dead drunk.”
“That’s why you never drink?”
“That’s why I never drink too much.”
“So that’s why you never stay the night.”
“I’d fry your body the minute I konked out. I can’t let that happen. I’ve tried everything. Directive dreaming. Hypnosis. Yoga. Nothing works. As soon as I fall asleep, the magic begins.” Finn snapped his fingers for effect.
“…wow,” Alastair mumbled, wincing. Then he remembered something. “That thing in your basement. That’s your bed.”
“Yes.”
“Made out of cement?”
“Yes.”
“Because cement doesn’t burn.” But it scorches.
“You win the prize!”
“Don’t shout.”
“Oops.”
“How far out does it go?”
“The field? About ten feet. All directions. Perfect sphere. Even through walls and floors.”
“That’s why your basement is so deep.”
“It took me ages to find a place with that deep a basement.”
“What about when you were growing up?”
“Slept outside in the summer. Never had to worry about mosquitoes. In the winter, I was in an adobe hut with a very tall ceiling.” Finn was quiet. “Now. You.”
Alastair, hung over as he was, didn’t even argue. “I was around 13, I guess. Blew up a lamp. Same day as I got my first boner. That’s how I remember. But I’ve always been able to do shit like that. Wasn’t until puberty that I got like what I am now. Powerful, I mean.”
“Mm. Radios and computers always got weird around me as a kid.”
“Mm.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Some sort of magnetism shit,” Alastair muttered. “Compasses and magnets go gnarly when I fire something off. But who cares? I blow shit to pieces.”
Finn was quiet again. “You tried to hit me last night.”
“I know. You had it coming.”
“And the neighbors are probably wondering what the hell happened. I’m really surprised they didn’t call the police.”
“Eh. Think you’re the first guy I’ve sworn at on my doorstep naked?”
“…I guess not.”
“Yeah,” Alastair snapped. He sipped the coffee. It was very, very black. “I guess I should have told you I knew who you were. But if it was the first thing outta my mouth, you’da done what you did and throw me out.”
“Probably.”
“I didn’t want that to happen.”
Finn nodded.
“’Cuz I’m in love with you.”
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