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It always starts with a gasp. One sharp breath before the pressure between his eyes fades to nothing and he’s staring at the cars passing him by.
Techno takes a hesitant step back, but it seems no matter how many times he has practised it, he is doomed to stumble. He slips, almost falling on his ass if it weren’t for the traffic light pole behind him that he grips onto like a lifeline. How annoying; even when he knows he has both of his legs, his subconscious has yet to make the connection.
He brushes his hair out of his face, but pink remains stubbornly in his peripheral. That’s fine, he didn’t want to be able to see that part of his vision anyway. Everyone knows that the best way to look is forwards.
Even with legs like a newborn deer, he manages to stand upright. He keeps his grip on the traffic light pole. He stares at the cars once more. In the gaps he sees for barely a second, he can see the other side of the road, empty save for a graffiti-covered garbage can. He wants to go over to that side. He fumbles with the traffic button, refusing to lose an opportunity to see the other side once more by taking a few seconds to press the button accurately.
“Are you looking for someone?” A voice calls out from behind him. He turns to face them. He knows who they are. He knows their name, their favourite foods, the face they make whilst lying and the lego collection they keep tucked away out of embarrassment for not being ‘mature’ enough.
Or maybe he doesn’t, because when he tries to remember them, the memory seems to evade him. All of a sudden, it’s so much harder to focus on what he’s sure he knows.The word is tantalisingly out of reach, but the feeling it brings him is so much closer.
Like an animal snapping at the hand that feeds, he is immediately on the defence. There was something about the blond teenager standing in front of him that gave his amygdala the reins of his thoughts, for a reason he couldn’t even comprehend.
There’s something wrong. His brain is drawn to blaming the teen, but maybe it’s also the fact that the street is incomplete- from what he remembers, there were huge crowds drifting up and down the block. He knows this, because he must’ve asked at least a hundred people to help him when he’d arrived. He knows he’d been ignored or pushed away by all of them.
He remembers this scene, even despite the inconsistencies, and the hours leading up to it.
The mark of a demon, something intangible but enduring, was not something you could run from. Not without enlisting the help of another mythical being. Techno was hard-pressed to find any escape from his inevitable demise and there was no chance in hell (no pun intended) that anyone would help him, knowing who he pissed off.
He knows that demons are highly vindictive. He knows hurting the ego of a demon was practically signing your own death warrant- and that was just for the weaker demons. He knows that masquerading as a human was not above the intrigue of even one of the strongest demons in living memory.
He didn’t know that besting the egotistical stranger in a best of ten to defend his position as his fencing club’s greatest fighter would lead to him being on the run for a week.
His friends always told him that pride would be his end.
He turns his head towards the traffic light, fumbling for the button. He needs to get to the other side. A braver, stupider man would stay and fight. Techno just hopes that the Dreamon will become uninterested the longer he runs.
“Are you okay?” The teenager doesn’t let up on him, even when he’s clearly focused on something else. Don’t get him wrong, he would talk to them, but the threat of imminent death makes Techno act a little cruel. “I don’t see any reason why you’d want to go over there.”
Techno still doesn’t answer, even as their eyes burn into the back of his head. His fingers find the worn plastic button, and he pushes it so harshly that he fears he may have jammed it. He pushes it again for good measure. City traffic lights were obnoxiously slow, and the terror stretches time infinitely in his mind.
A scoff breaks his single-minded focus on the unwavering LED display of a man standing. “You don’t have to worry about going over there. There’s nothing there for you,” the teenager’s tone was like a snake in grass, a suppressed burst of aggression hidden behind a placating voice. “You should come with me instead.”
A hand slips through a gap to rest on the inside of his elbow, and a surprising strength pulls him away from the traffic light. An arm links with his, supporting his weight as the two begin to walk down the street.
Techno turns to look at the person taking him away. Blue eyes stare back, unwavering, like he was something to be focused on. Their brow twitches, and Techno knows it’s because their fringe is too long, but they refuse to trim it no matter how much Techno pushes him to do it.
“My name is Tommy, but you probably don’t remember that,” the teenager- Tommy- told him. “Or the fact that I use he/him either.”
He was right. Techno didn’t remember, though he knows he should, because he’s done this before, maybe a hundred times. He wondered why he can remember the small intricacies about him despite it.
There was still that underlying sense of something uncanny from the teenager but the familiarity was soothing; regaining the memory was more like regaining a leg, and finally being able to confidently walk on uneven ground.
Tommy smiles, in a way that’s probably supposed to be disarming. “You don’t remember, but I remember you. Techno, right?”
He doesn’t wait for Techno to respond, pushing forwards with the confidence of a conman with his teeth sunken into the deal of a lifetime. “You’ve gotten yourself into a lot of trouble since we last talked, which is crazy because I distinctly remember us betting on who’d be the first to piss off a demon.”
They make a sharp right turn into a dark alleyway. The air smells different in the shade- not in the sense that it smelt like a typical alleyway, but like the world itself had taken a step to the left. Techno’s not too focused on this, however, as his mind is more preoccupied with his thoughts. Oh, God, tell me he isn’t going to try to cash in on 100 bucks right now.
“Don’t worry! I don’t want your money!” As if reading his mind, Tommy responds hastily, raising his arms in surrender. “But there is something else that I want.”
Tommy clasps his hands together. “You and me, our problems aren’t so different. What’s different is that I’m the one who knows how to handle it. You don’t want to be running away for the rest of your life, right?”
He pauses, and Techno realises that he’s been given the opportunity to respond. He shakes his head. Tommy’s smile grows, canines glinting in the dark.
“Well then, I believe that we can come to a deal. You help me, and I’ll help you. Sounds good, right?”
Tommy digs into his pockets, and pulls out a necklace. It’s a delicate thing, a silver chain with an unfamiliar piece of rock suspended from the middle. His other hand dips into his neckline, and fishes out an identical necklace. “These necklaces form a tether. They connect us deeper than blood- a brotherhood, if you will. If you put this on, I can solve all of your problems.”
“All of them?” Techno asks quietly.
“Any that you’ll ever have,” Tommy supplements. He swings the necklace, but snatches it back before Techno can take it from him. He smiles playfully. “And all you have to do in return is to promise not to ever take it off.”
Tommy’s hand jerks out towards him, so suddenly that Techno jumps back, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. “Let’s shake on it.”
And this is how it goes. Techno hasn’t got much to lose, but he stands to gain so much more. He finds himself shaking Tommy’s hand almost immediately, and like a well-oiled machine, the hand concealing the necklace opens up for him to take his reward. The clasp is a little hard to open, but long silence as he fiddles with it isn’t awkward. It’s warm, burning, full of an energy that Techno could never hope to put a word to. The rock settles against his sternum comfortably, and his hand moves to feel the not-quite sharp edges.
“It’s called bedrock. It’s a special type of rock that’s not found so easily around these parts, but it’s famous from where I’m from. It represents an unbreakable bond between two people,” Tommy tells him, smiling from ear to ear. “We’re the bedrock bros now.”
It’s a stupid name. So stupid that Techno can’t help but smile back.
—
It always ends with a gasp, a sudden rush of sensation that brings him back to the present. But this time it’s different- there’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.
He’s tempted to roll over and ignore his little brother, but it seems far too cruel, even if he’s being rudely awoken in the middle of the night. “Tommy…” He groans, squinting up at blond curls above him,” …Whaddyawant.”
“Techno,” Tommy sounds close to tears, “I’ve fucked up.”
Techno sits up. It’s a little hard with no feet to dig in, but the pillows behind his head provide great support. “Tommy, what did you do?”
“I’ve fucked up majorly, haven’t I?” Tommy stares at him, and Techno wishes that he’d go and turn on the light so that he could see him better. “I let it go too far. I should have never done this to you.”
“What are you talking about? Tommy, what did you do ?”
Tommy hesitates, several moments too long for his comfort.
“Your legs weren’t amputated.”
It takes a moment for the sentence to register in Techno’s tired mind. When it does, all he can do is laugh. “Tommy. I don’t have my legs , how the hell weren’t they amputated?”
What other explanation was there? It was the only one that Tommy had offered him several years ago, when he woke up one morning and found his very noticeable lack of limbs below his knees. Sure, he’d wondered why the hell he needed them amputated, but there was no denying that they just weren’t there anymore.
The question plays in his mind like a broken record. What did you do? What did you do?
Tommy looked down at his lap, fiddling with the edge of his shirt nervously. “You have to promise not to be mad at me.” His voice was too quiet. He was too quiet. Dread sunk to the bottom of his stomach.
“I’m not mad at you,” Techno tried to reassure him, but he wasn’t so certain on how effective it was when he was trembling with nerves too.
“You will be,” Tommy said with certainty, and then, “Do you remember how we met?”
It barely takes Techno any time at all to remember. He’s been reliving it every night for the past two years. “The street by the traffic light. You told me you could help me solve my Dreamon problem.”
‘Dreamon problem’ was the phrase they’d picked up to describe it when it was a pressing issue. He hasn’t uttered it in at least a year.
“I didn’t lie when I told you that we had similar problems. I was also on the Dreamon’s shitlist,” He smiles shyly, “unfortunately for him, I had a plan to deal with it. And all I needed was an anchor.”
“An… anchor?” It’s a term that sounds familiar, but Techno doesn’t quite remember the meaning.
“A human that a demon uses to channel their power through. Techno, I haven’t been quite honest with you-”
“You’re a demon?” Techno interrupts him.
The world stands still.
“You’re a demon,” Techno repeats.
Tommy sighs. “Yes,” the word sounds painful.
“...And what does this have to do with my legs?” Techno asks.
“I- Well,” Tommy sits back nervously, “I couldn’t have you wandering off when I was out… dealing with the Dreamon. The entire point of an anchor is that you know where they are.”
“Oh my god.” Techno says blankly. “You cut my legs off.”
“NO!” Tommy shouts, panicked, “no, no, no, I temporarily removed them! There’s a difference!”
“You-” a sudden feeling of sensation where there hadn’t been in years shocks Techno out of his sentence. He looks down sharply. Where his legs used to end at his knees, they instead continue, right down to his toes. He wiggles them, grimacing at the sight of gross neglected toenails.
“And- and before you ask, I can’t do any of that freaky possession shit. Limb removal is like, the extent of my abilities.” A glance upwards shows Tommy curled into a ball, knees pulled in close to his chest. “The necklaces linked us together, so I could harvest the Dreamon’s powers without exploding or… something.”
“Okay,” Techno says calmly.
Surprisingly enough, learning the truth behind his missing legs was a massive relief. He’s exhausted any anxiety over his lower body years ago. Learning how to live with a sudden lack of limbs has made him surprisingly adaptive on the issue. No legs? Sure. Legs back? Why not.
Knowing that it wasn’t one or the other was soothing. Maybe he could even ask for a mismatch, or he could try living without an arm for a while; he’d always wanted to learn how to use his feet to pick things up.
“I’m sorry ,” Tommy’s voice breaks. “I didn’t mean to use you- I mean, I did but… I didn’t want to hurt you, I just didn’t want you to leave.”
Techno’s not quite sure how much of the whole ‘not leaving’ thing applies to him being Tommy’s anchor.
“It was- it’s awful. It’s an awful thing I’ve done to you,” Tommy sniffs quietly, clearly fighting back tears. “So… I’m going to go back to where I came from.”
Techno turns his full attention to Tommy. “To… hell?”
Tommy nods. “..Yes..”
“No, you’re not.” Techno tells him sternly.
“Yes I am,” Tommy said, his voice gaining an aggressive tone, a snake in the grass, “I’m going back to where I belong-”
“‘Where you belong?’ Not with me? Not together?” Techno countered, pulling out the necklace that was hidden beneath his shirt collar, the same one he remembered receiving all those years ago: nothing more than a piece of bedrock attached to a simple chain, but now so much more. “You said yourself- bedrock bros. Bedrock brothers .”
“But that was when you didn’t know !” Tommy shouted, “you didn’t know I was lying to you, you didn’t know I was going to take your legs-”
“Were you lying about being my brother?”
Tommy slams his fist onto the mattress furiously. “Fuck no!”
“And now I know.” Techno yawns, “ten out of ten conversation. Can we go to sleep now?”
“You’re not taking this seriously enough,” Tommy says, and there’s an edge to it that’s losing power. What buried frustration he held had fizzled out, and it’s clear that not getting his expected outcome has made him confused beyond belief.
Techno groans. Why is he always the one solving problems? He could’ve sworn he’d made a deal to no longer deal with them.
He lifts himself up, just enough to yank Tommy down. His head hits the pillow with a soft ow!
“That didn’t hurt, stop lying,” Techno tells him, before dragging him closer to his chest.
“Techno,” Tommy hisses.
“No. Sleep. It’s stupid o’clock. I want to go back to bed.”
Tommy sighs. “Can we at least have a proper conversation about this tomorrow?”
“Whatever makes you go to sleep faster,” Techno tells him quietly.