"Did you talk to them? Either of them?" asked Ezra, a curious grin lightening his face. "Did you talk to... G-O-D?"
Ewan rolled his eyes once again. These mortals were a little... slow. He wanted to sympathize, wanted to say, 'ah, well, when I was a mortal I'm sure it would've been hard for me to grasp too.' But he couldn't. It'd been too many years in the past, too many times that he'd listened to the reality of Hell and Heaven and God and The Devil. He couldn't think of a world where it didn't exist.
"I did," he choked out. Somehow it came back to him that he had, actually, spoken to God. And Satan. Both on the same day. The same hour. The same hour that he'd lost his best friend and come to the Surface. "A-... Aliyah!" He blinked absently, putting both of his hands on the floor to balance himself. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, something similar to guilt. Betrayal.
"Who?" Ezra questioned, perking up. "Is she a demon?"
"Yes. She's another demon and I... I left her." Ewan bit his lip before pulling the other Enchantment from his pocket. The one God had given him, the one he had to fill before he could get back to Hell. Before he could be done with his mission - his ninth column. He hadn't studied the Enchantment in Heaven, too shaken in the presence of all things holy. Now that he studied it, he noticed it was in the shape of a cross with a circle behind it. "Ben."
The quiet boy looked up at him with his usual emotionless eyes. Truly, Ewan did not understand.
How was a mortal so... absolutely lacking of anything? Emotions-wise, that was, because he was certainly handsome. Ben had the looks of, for lack of a better word, an angel. He was perfectly and lightly tanned with bright blue eyes and pink, soft lips. His voice was deep, his hair was pitch black and quite curly, scattered over his head. In a sense, he looked timid. Like the world was too big for him and he wasn't ready for anything coming his way. But at the same time, he looked fierce with his blackened and purpled fists and his stone-cold glance. He looked like he was ready for absolutely everything.
Ben was a contradiction.
"We have to complete this Enchantment," said Ewan firmly, holding up the odd Enchantment. Taking a breath of his cigarette, he continued, "so I can go back to Hell."
Ezra cleared his throat before chuckling awkwardly. "How do you, uh... get one of those done?" His eyes then went wide with interest. "Wait, that's something straight from Hell, isn't it?"
"Um... Heaven, actually," Ewan replied absentmindedly.
"Heaven? But you're a demon. Don't you guys burn or something in Heaven?" asked Ezra, truly looking interested. His eyes were lit with enjoyment, his legs crossed and his hands clasped. His eyes were cast to the left blankly.
It was a little disheartening to know the boy Ewan didn't need was the only one interested. Ben looked like he didn't care at all. But it didn't matter - they would get the Enchantment done, one way or another.
Ewan rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. "No. Look, we just need to get this Enchantment figured out, right? I'm guessing it's like... Hell, except with the Eight Heavenly Virtues? But that would take hundreds of years to complete."
The room fell silent. Yes, Ewan knew Ben didn't have hundreds of years. And he also knew the big man upstairs knew that. So that clearly wasn't the situation. Unless... it was.
"Maybe you've been made immortal," suggested Ewan, taking a drag from his cigarette.
He got to his feet, going to the sink and glancing around before grinning in satisfaction as his eyes landed on the silver soap dispenser. He scooped it up eagerly and held it up, turning to Ben.
"Alright. Just sit still, then, and we'll see if you've been made immortal," announced Ewan, and he lifted the dispenser up.
Ben didn't even flinch. His blue eyes pierced Ewan with the usual lack of any and all emotion as he waited for, perhaps, death, and Ewan was ready to give it to him, but Ezra cleared his throat and stood up. He had a nervous smile on his lips.
"Wait," he said, taking a step forward. He was between Ben and Ewan now, blind eyes cast a little to the left of Ewan. "How about we figure out a way to do this without someone dying?"
"Stirling died," pitched Ewan. "C'mon, even if he does die, he'll be sent to Hell and then we can ask The Devil what to do about it. Or... someone more likely to acknowledge either of us exists. Aliyah. I'm not sure." He took a drag from his cigarette, then exhaled and beckoned for Ezra to move. Blush came to his cheeks - or, it felt like it - as he realized the boy wasn't able to see the gesture. "Go on, then. This'll happen with or without your permission. Unless you've got a better idea on how to carry out hundreds of years worth of work in the simple timespan of a mortal's life."
Ezra parted his lips but had no response, so Ben sighed, standing up as well. "I think we should sleep on it."
That wouldn't do. That simply would not do. Aliyah was in Hell, waiting for him, waiting for Ewan to return to tell her the Surface was simply not what he'd wanted. She wanted to hear that, he knew, and he wanted to tell her. He needed to tell her that. To at least talk to her, tell her he was fine and he still loved her for certain.
"I think we should deal with it now," said Ewan, getting very irritated and tense, "because Aliyah's still in Hell. Waiting for me."
"Is she your girlfriend?" asked Ezra, smiling softly.
"Aliyah? No, she's... No, I'm g -" He growled, shaking his head - "Ezra, it doesn't matter. She's my best friend. Practically my sister. She's important to me and it would be just... fascinating if we could get whatever this job is done so I can get back to Hell and we can get this just completely over with and I can just see her-"
The door opened and the woman behind it looked odd.
She held herself in a strange sense, as if she didn't know enough about herself to be sure of how to stand as she should, and she looked like she was almost confused about herself, more-so than the three boys in the room. As if she thought she should know them but wasn't sure if she did.
"Tiana," said Ben breathlessly.
She smiled politely before clearing her throat. "Um... I'm not sure you told me about friends being over." Her eyes suddenly went wide as she glanced at the soap dispenser in Ewan's hand, held up as if to strike Ben, and she jolted forward, lunging straight for Ewan and prying the dispenser from his hands. He squinted his eyes in confusion, watching her step back elegantly and place it on the sink.
A quick glance also told him she'd taken the cigarette and extinguished it in the sink.
Politely, she cleared her throat. "I suggest they leave now."
Ewan was still particularly shocked that a human could move so quickly. But after regaining his ground, he cleared his throat. He knew how to handle this.
"You feel... tired, hm?" he asked, leaning against the sink. "Maybe you'd like to lay down. Sleep for a spell. Not... bother with this, right?" He spoke slyly, looking her in the eyes.
This was the part where she nodded faintly and went to sleep, but... it wasn't. It was the part where she stood there, looking at him with a hint of irritation behind her bright eyes, and she looked at Ben.
"Who is this?" she asked.
Ben was silent, and so Ezra spoke up instead. "Miss Sawyer, he's, uh... a friend. Stopped by because he had some issues on his face if you can tell."
The woman went silent. "And who is this?" she asked again, looking at Ezra.
Ewan could feel Ben's heart drop, and as he glanced over at the taller boy, he saw one emotion, finally: pain. Not physical, but mental. Deep, gnashed, broken pain that wouldn't heal by words or by sight. It would never heal. Ben could not heal and perhaps it was because the woman in front of him did, in fact, have dementia, in which case he understood. But he didn't understand how she'd remained unphased by his prying words.
"Ezra," choked out the blind boy. He was hurt too. Not like Ben, but... hurt nonetheless. "Ben's, uh... only friend."
The woman clenched her jaw, then she huffed in irritation. Not at him, not at Ewan. At herself. "I'm afraid I don't remember you. But if either of you need a place to stay tonight, please just ask and I'll fix a room right up for you." She smiled fondly and then she turned on her heels and left, shutting the door behind her.
Ben exhaled shakily, sitting back against the wall. He looked pale. Now it looked as though the world was too big for him. As if the very smallest bit of darkness could swallow him whole and he'd be gone forever.
"She's forgetting mid-conversation," whispered Ezra. His pale blue eyes gazed solemnly at the ground. "I'm so sorry, Ben."
"It happens," grumbled the taller boy. Rubbing his face, Ben just sat against the wall for a second. Then he pushed himself off the sink, emotions fading and once again he was capable of taking on the world and simultaneously being swallowed by it.
It was as if nothing had ever happened. Ewan wondered how he was so good at pushing emotions away.
"I should go home," whispered Ezra. He hefted his bag onto his shoulders - something Ewan vaguely noticed he hadn't even taken off in the first place.
Ben said, "I can-"
"I'll call my dad," Ezra objected, "don't worry." He sounded hurt.
Ben nodded, croaking out, "Alright."
This was an oddly painful scene to watch. Ewan, granted, didn't quite know what was going on. He didn't know what was wrong with Ben's mother - why she was unaffected by his mind control, why she was so confusing, why she forgot who Ezra was. But it was sad.
Shifting awkwardly, Ezra pulled something out of his pocket and squeezed it. The thing lit up and a voice began asking what he wanted to do. As he whispered into it, he pulled a strange white contraption out of his bag that he then snapped, and it extended into a full-length walking cane.
"Whoa," Ewan whispered in surprise.
"Catch you tomorrow?" Ezra asked. He was trying his hardest to sound happy - Ewan felt the effort - but it wasn't working all that well.
"Yeah," Ben breathed.
And then Ezra navigated his way out, tapping the cane against the wall and floor. It was a strange act, but he got around efficiently from what Ewan could see.
That left only Ben and Ewan, and Ewan sighed, slowly looking over to the other. That had been sad, but now it was time to get to business. "Well?" he asked the other.
"Well, what?"
"Well, can we please get to work on the Enchantment?"
"It's five o'clock. Stirling would be home by now... you should go," mumbled Ben.
"I'm not Stirling. Stirling is dead. I don't have to go about telling everyone I'm Stirling or even acting like him."
"So you want everyone to know he's been possessed by a demon," Ben said slowly, "and that you're here to, what, use me to get back to Hell?"
He did have a point. Ewan looked to the side, around the bathroom, pondering. Where could Ben go that would force him to focus on the Enchantment? An asylum, if they still had those. Or jail. Well, jail certainly wouldn't be the best decision. But an asylum would.
"Maybe you should go to an asylum," suggested Ewan. "For the Enchantment."
This reverted Ben from his slight irritation to absolute emotionless. "Send me anywhere out of here and I'll make sure you stay here forever."
The mere threat sent chills down Ewan's back. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, he was terrified of the idea, and his body went rigid. Ben didn't know how to make him stay here, did he? Well, supposedly he could indirectly. Just by not helping with the Enchantment, but that would be... well, rude.
"Fine." Ewan crossed his arms. "But I don't know where Stirling lives."
Ben suddenly took one long stride forward and began feeling around Ewan's body, and Ewan scoffed, tilting his head.
"We're in the middle of a conversation, Ben. You can't distract me with this -" His breath hitched as Ben began to feel around his pants. "Great Hell..."
A soft sigh of disappointment and relief escaped Ewan when Ben only pulled back to pull a rectangular device that glowed to life when Ben merely tapped it - the same one Ezra had. Ewan hovered over, surprisingly tall enough to look over his shoulder. He licked his lips, watching Ben tap a few buttons to bring the device to a different screen where it then revealed a path.
"Follow this to your house. Stirling's house," mumbled Ben, thrusting the device into Ewan's hand.
"And how," snapped Ewan, "am I to explain the stitches in my face? The bruises?"
"Cosplay."
"What in the world is-"
Ewan was shoved through the door and that was that.
"Stirling! Just where have you been?" hissed the tall Chinese man. He was incredibly lean and stood at perhaps 6'3" with a menacing glare and short, black hair, accompanied by a mustache. "You were supposed to be home 3 hours ago!"
It would've been two, Ewan was sure, except he kept getting misdirected by the device - the monotonous voice it uttered, telling him where to go, where to take a left or right. Half the time he forgot which was which.
Stirling's mother was a shorter, more politely petite woman with long black hair and kind eyes. She just chuckled gently, running a hand through Ewan's hair lovingly. "He's gained a hobby!" she proclaimed. "Cosplay. John, we'll have to look into it."
"These American cultures," the old man grumbled. John.
"The Japanese started it," spoke a quiet, careless voice. It was a female that Ewan could only assume was his sister. Except she looked nothing like Stirling or his parents. She looked younger than him by a couple of years. Her hair was blonde and reached her shoulders in two pigtails, and she had bright blue eyes. Did one of them have an affair? Twice? "And nice cosplay, Stirling."
He knew what cosplay was and was able to smile and mumble a thank you. After he'd yelled at his phone for ten minutes, whether it be to shut up or tell him what something was, Ewan had gotten so frustrated that he made a stranger help him.
And now he knew that cosplay was a hobby in which people interested in a fake universe got together with other people with the exact same interest and dressed up as people that didn't even exist. It was a funny little thing, in Ewan's opinion, and he was appalled by how times had truly changed. Clothing was a rarity in his day and age and now people were walking around with absurd wardrobe that they didn't even need.
Of course, he was very thankful for it.
"Who is it?" the tiny girl asked. "It looks like Chucky."
Ewan chuckled nervously, pointing at her with conviction. "Right. Yes. Right on the nose, love." Then he clapped his hands together in finality. "Well, how about I go to my room and, uh... further discover this..." Feeling confident in his American accent and slang, he continued, "woke hobby."
At this, the tiny girl scrunched up her nose, and Ewan chewed on the inside of his lip.
His mother nodded eagerly before she motioned to the table, which was fully equipped with everything needed for a meal consisting of... some milky substance that had lumps of other creamy, more solid things. It looked significantly better than any food he remembered, though, however poor the description.
"After dinner, dear. Come sit down. We've been waiting for you and the chicken and dumplings have gotten cold," she said kindly as she scuttled over to the table and sat down. John sat at the head of the table while his sister sat beside his mother. There were two vacant seats on the other side of the table.
Ewan pursed his lips, hiding frustration with a strained chuckle. Then he surveyed the two seats.
Was there a certain one for him? He swallowed nervously, knowing seating placements was something cultures doted on, but he didn't know much about Chinese culture. Tentatively, he sat on the further end away from Stirling's father, glancing around anxiously.
No one objected, though. His mother cleared her throat. "Jamie!" she called. "Dinner!"
From what looked to be the basement came a nicely fit American boy. His shoulders were slightly slouched and he wore a black jacket over a grey shirt with jeans that fit his body perfectly. Deep brown matched the dark brown that was his eyes and his chin was littered with a small, thin beard. But his eyes were lit with entertainment and playfulness, and Ewan straightened his shoulders in interest as well as confusion. Nothing was making sense here.
When the two made eye contact, though, Jamie took in a sharp breath. "What's happened to him?"
"Cosplay!" his mother cheered. "Isn't that love-"
"Is he adopted?" Ewan blurted.
That was probably not a good question. But not one of the children particularly looked like their Chinese parents and it was very confusing.
But rather than snapping, Jamie's lips curled into a delighted smile and he chuckled a deep, uplifting chuckle. "I think we all were," he said softly, "but maybe it's only me."
"What have you been doing in the basement?" asked John. "I thought you finished your car yesterday."
"Yeah," said Jamie, sitting down by Stirling's father. "I did. I was working on my scooter."
"The Destroyer of Ankles?" asked the girl. She had a fork in her hand and she was picking at the lumps - the dumplings.
This was all incredibly confusing. Everyone seemed to be from a different culture and yet everyone was American, speaking with American accents and eating American food.
Jamie rolled his eyes with his playful grin. "Yes, Anna. The Destroyer of Ankles."
Ewan was silent, simply watching as the family continued to interact. He didn't remember this. Hadn't had it enough, apparently, to miss it. He bit his lip, beginning to fiddle with his fork.
"Stirling?" asked his mother. "You look lost in thought. What's up, baby?"
A tough question. What was up?
What was he even doing here? Why wasn't he already in Hell? Why had he agreed to come to this house and experience such a... wholesome family? What was the point of staying here at all when he should be out there with Ben, finishing the Enchantment and getting back to Aliyah?
"What religion is this family?" he suddenly asked. One of the only things he could really talk about. He'd heard a lot in Hell, but none of which he'd actually truly learned about. He couldn't talk about school, couldn't talk about anything really about Stirling, couldn't even talk about 'scooters' because he couldn't even imagine what they looked like.
His mother cleared her throat politely. "Um... well, we've decided to let you choose, remember? Educate you on all of them and the one that connects with you is what you get to live by. Forced religion isn't what your father and I believe in."
Ewan shifted in his seat. "Which is why you moved here?"
An uncomfortable chuckle came from his mother. "No, dear. China didn't... enforce religion. But there is more, um... diversity here." She smiled kindly, putting her hand on Anna's. "And we wanted Anna so badly. But we could only get her here, in America."
"What?" asked Ewan, feigning a nervous laugh. He smiled timidly, glancing between Stirling's mother and father. "Why?"
"Well, she was all the way here in America and we really, really wanted her, so-"
"Yes, I know," Ewan snapped, feeling his cheeks heat up, "but why not just have her shipped to China or... wherever?"
"The two-child policy, love. We couldn't adopt more than two of you. We've told you this, haven't we?" asked Stirling's mother. "Are you feeling okay?"
That didn't make sense. Why would they need a two-child policy? What was the point of regulating the number of children someone had? Why would they need to? What was being accomplished by keeping children from being born?
What was the point of changing everything?
His vision went blurry, his mind racing with thoughts and questions that didn't make sense. He couldn't even hear himself think because of how anxious and confused and irritated he was, and he closed his eyes, putting his hands over his face and gritting his teeth.
"Stirling? Are you okay?" Jamie asked him. He looked concerned, and he put a hand to Ewan's forehead before clearing his throat and announcing, "He feels sick. I'll take him to his room."
His mother got up. "I can help."
Jamie subtly shook his head, and Stirling gazed at him silently, feeling his throat constrict. He didn't understand what was going on but it felt awful and confusing and gross.
Suddenly he felt hands under his legs and neck, and he was being picked up and brought to another room. There, Jamie laid him down on the bed and went to shut the door. The bed then sunk to the side as Jamie sat on the bed beside Ewan.
"Stirling, be real with me," said Jamie firmly, "and tell me what's going on."
"I..." Ewan said, lips chapped. He didn't know what to say. But he did know he'd ruined things, not only for Ben but for Stirling's family. What was going to happen when Ewan returned to Hell and Stirling was dead? "It's nothing. I think I've just got a slight, uh... cold..." His vision was still blurry but it gradually got better the more he looked at Jamie and just focused on talking.
"Was it Ben?" growled Jamie. "Tell me, Stirling. Was it Ben?"
"Why would it be Ben?" asked Ewan, voice slurred. "He didn't give me a cold."
A firm hand went on his shoulder, and Jamie tilted his head down so Ewan was forced to meet him square in the eyes. This felt strange. Being confronted by someone who thought he could help, someone who thought the situation was of mortal concern.
"When I take you to school tomorrow, I'm going to beat him up," said Jamie. "I swear."
"Jamie, why would it be Ben?" asked Ewan. Firmly this time, to hopefully grab his attention.
"Because! We got a call from the principal and heard what Ben did today. They said you were a bystander to the whole situation... They were scared Ben might come after you." He sighed through his nose in frustration, shaking his head. "He keeps doing this every week and no one will do anything about it. I guess they're all scared of his dad-"
"He has a dad?" asked Ewan. He had plenty of questions about everything Jamie had just said, but this question was important.
"Yeah?" Jamie looked Ewan over curiously. "The man who invented every piece of technology we own. The guy that supposedly hacked every satellite, who's rumored to have murdered his wife? Who raised the hell-child that's Ben and ignored him for four years after his wife died?" Jamie ran a hand through his hair, worry in his eyes. "You guys were best friends in elementary. I thought you'd remember this, but it's fine."
"Then who was the woman at his house?" slurred Ewan. He knew he was doing awful at making it seem like he was Stirling, but he had questions and Jamie seemed to know. He also seemed to be the only person not asking him too many questions and only giving answers.
"His house? Stirling, when did you..." Jamie bit the inside of his cheek, then sighed. "I don't know why there would be a woman in his house, maybe she was a house-cleaner. And I... I don't guess I want to know why you were in there at all." He put a hand on Ewan's shoulder. "Are you feeling better, though?"
"Yeah," Ewan choked. He didn't understand what was going on. Didn't know what Ben had done, who the woman in the house was... or even who Ben was.
It really seemed like he needed answers.