**TRIGGER WARNING** Brief mention of the dog from the previous chapter is made. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Our blood is two batteries with the same charge

I think I can hear the siren in the distance

For whom doth the bell tolls, indeed

--From the song Don't Eat Luck Off The Sidewalk

Lyrics by Orion Bauwens, Jacob Larson, Benjamin Hill

"How've you been?"

"I've been good," I lie into the mouthpiece of my cell, forcing myself to sound chipper.

I'm currently on the couch, laying down with my head on Tristan's lap. He gestures at me, offering to pause the movie we're watching but I shake my head. Doesn't matter, I've seen this one a hundred times.

"How's Tristan?" Ben asks me.

God, it feels really good to hear his voice. Truthfully I've kind of...pulled myself away from him. And Jake. Honestly I've kinda subconsciously pulled away from everyone, except the people I can't.

"Say hi, Tristan," I say, holding my phone away from my ear.

"Who is it?"

"Ben."

"Hi Ben!"

"Hi Tristan!" Ben's loud voice comes over the speaker with a laugh.

I put the phone back to my ear and walk off to Tristan's bedroom. It only takes like, ten steps. Honestly I'm getting used to his small, one bedroom apartment. It's cozy.

"So what's up?" I ask Ben.

"Just wondering how things are going. We haven't talked for awhile."

"I know...sorry."

"Tristan been taking care of you?"

"Yeah." I bite my lip. "Look, I don't want you to think he's replaced you guys or something--"

"Did I say that?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Dude, relax. I honestly didn't think that at all. I genuinely wanted to know you're okay." Before I can answer, he continues. "Did the police ever get back to you?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Well a few weeks ago I had the camera footage pulled, and Gloria turned it in for me. Someone wearing a heavy winter coat with a huge hood came by, did the thing, dumped the blood that had collected in the bag all over the stairs, and then walked off. But there weren't any distinguishing features or anything. And they didn't come and leave the same direction. They walked into view from the right, did it, and then continued walking on their way to the left."

"That's fucked."

"I know. Actually, wanna hear the really disturbing part?"

"Uh...I thought the fact that this happened was the disturbing part?"

"Well yeah, but it gets worse. Whoever it was took a picture of their handiwork before they walked off."

"That's--oh my God."

"Yeah, I know."

"Jake and I have been back at our places for a couple weeks now. Nothing strange has happened."

"That's good," I say genuinely.

"So...when are you coming back? Like, did the police give you the go-head?"

"Yeah...they said I could go back a while ago. I just..."

"It's okay, Ori."

"I'm just really freaked out still. It's pathetic, I know."

"It's not. That was some really fucked up shit, man. I'd be scared, too."

"You would?"

"Of course!"

"I thought I was overreacting..."

"Honestly I feel like you are UNDER reacting. If I were you I would've taken a blow torch to the entire house and called it a wash."

That makes me laugh. After that there was a pause.

"So...you do mean to come back though, right?"

"Oh yeah, totally. I mean, that's my house. I bought it with my own money. All my stuff is in there. I can't just abandon it..."

"Alright. Well, we miss you and can't wait to see you again."

"I miss you guys too."

"Alright. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Sure."

We say goodbye and hang up with each other. I stand, slipping my phone into my back pocket.

"Yo, Tristan?"

After a moment he peeks his head into the bedroom. "S'up?"

"I think--I think I'm ready to go back home..."

He grins. "Finally I get to get rid of my freeloader."

I laugh.

~

"Thank you so much," I tell Tristan a while later, standing in my foyer. "For everything."

We have our arms slinked around each other's waists. Tristan is swaying me slightly, almost like we're doing our own private dance that no one can see. It's simple, it's nice, it's intimate.

"What? Do you think I'd let a crazy stalker come get you?"

I snort. "Not for a second."

"Damn straight. Over my dead body."

We don't speak words for a while, our actions speaking for us.

"I was kinda gettin' used to you staying with me..." Tristan finally says softly, stroking my cheek.

I clutch the fabric at his chest in my fists. I can't look at him. I don't wanna look at him when I'm feeling so vulnerable. But I'm starting to realize it's okay for me to be vulnerable in front of Tristan. I think it's finally seeping into my thick skull that he's not going anywhere.

And that petrifies me.

"I'm kinda getting used to you being here," I speak softly, my voice shaking.

He lifts my chin. I didn't want him to see the tears I'm stubbornly holding back, and I don't want him to feel how I'm trembling. Gently he removes my glasses, his face becoming a blurry mess. I can see him smile though, and I close my eyes as he gently kisses each of my eyelids. When he's done he puts my glasses back on for me, smiling.

"I'm not going anywhere, Orio."

I don't like this. I don't like this because it's making me feel too much. And this feeling that I'm feeling, I think I might die without it now that I have it.

"Well," I say with a chuckle. I need to break this spell. "I mean, you are about to walk out my door."

"Not forever, though," he says, earnestly.

"Alright," I say, breaking away and giving him a playful shove. "Enough mush, I can't take it."

He laughs, ruffling my hair. We then have a quick kiss, holding each other's hands.

"Don't be a stranger," he tells me, releasing my hand and going towards the door.

"I won't."

After he shuts the door all I can do is stand there.

I think I'm starting to understand what Gloria was talking about on the tour bus over the summer.

Fuck.

~

I decided to take a nice, long, hot shower to try and muddle through my thoughts and feelings. Afterwards I'm staring at myself in the mirror as I shave quickly. I don't even recognize myself anymore. It's not even that I look different--I mean, I do, a little bit. My new haircut, my eyes aren't so sunken in, my face no longer looks sallow and my cheekbones aren't as prominent.

It's more than that, it's deeper. It's like I can see into my brain, into my soul. I look the same but I'm so different. I can't pinpoint what's changed. I don't even know if what has changed is done changing. I don't know if this change is a good thing or a bad thing. I'm just...

Different.

Afterwards I get dressed. Then I sit on my bed, looking about myself.

This bedroom is much different than the tour bus one. It's not so...depressing. The carpet is white, the curtains are also white. The walls are white, with the slightest tinge of blue. Most people don't even notice, but I know, and I love it. The furniture is all white--white and glass. The mirror on my dresser is huge, the wooden frame decorated with an intricate ivy design on it. The top lip is gold. The door frames and base boards are a light, honey-colored wood. It may be silly, but I have a huge canopy bed, minus the canopy. Everything about it is white, too.

I'm not entirely sure why my two rooms are such a stark contrast. Maybe because when I'm on the road, and I give all of myself to everyone, I just want to cocoon myself. When I'm home I want to enjoy it--I want to be happy. I want to enjoy what I have and you can't really do that in the dark, can you?

My thoughts are interrupted by my doorbell. It rang. And rang. Honestly it probably sounds like what Jake heard a few months ago when I had a fit, screwed up my hand, and had him drive me to the hospital.

Concerned, I walk out of my room quickly. I have several camera feeds situated throughout my house, and I look at the front door one in the hallway.

It's Tristan.

It's Tristan?

I jog down the steps and go to the foyer.

"Coming. Coming! DUDE I'M COM--"

I open up the door and Tristan shoves me backwards. He sticks his head out the door, looking back and forth before slamming it shut and locking it. He then grabs my wrist and drags me back into the house forcefully. I nearly trip.

"Tristan, what--"

He grabs me by both shoulders. I see nothing but terror in his face. "Go pack a bag as quickly as you can. Now."

"What?" He's pushing me to the steps now. Then he goes to the window in three long strides, peeking out of the curtains. "Why? What's--"

"I'm calling the cops and we need to get out of here."

My blood runs cold. "What? Why? I don't understand. Tristan, you're scaring me--"

He draws the curtains tightly and walks back over to me. I hadn't noticed he was holding a piece of paper this entire time. It had been folded in half and he unfolds it, holding it in front of my face.

I think I might pass out. There's three words typed, aligned in the center, zero punctuation, the font nothing fancy. Below it is the picture of the dog's head on my porch in the snow.

he is mine

I stumble back. "I think--I think I need to sit--"

"Orion!" he shouts, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me gently. "We have to get out of here. Now."

I come to my senses. He's right. Oh fuck, he's right.

"Fuck the clothes," I say, grabbing him by the arm and now pushing him to the door.

"I parked in back," he says, twisting around to look at me.

"Good idea," I say, turning around and ramming into him in my hurry. For a moment we trip over each other, racing into the kitchen.

"I need to call Jake and Ben."

We're out the door, jogging through my backyard. The snow has melted a bit, the ground slick in some places. I slip a couple times but keep going. In my hurry I'm just in my socks.

As I punch in the code to my garage, Tristan looks around us frantically. We run through the garage to the back door, which leads to the alley. His car is there. I peek in the front and back windows as he gets down on his stomach, looking beneath the car. Once we're sure it's safe, he unlocks his car and we get in.

I'm on my phone immediately. "We should go straight to the police station--Jake? Yeah, it's Orion. No, everything isn't okay. Tristan just got a creepy ass letter from my stalker. Yeah, it's definitely a stalker. I just wanted to let you know, do what you will with that info. I'm gonna call Ben now and we're headed to the police station. Yeah I'll keep you posted. Bye."

As I pull up Ben's info, I glance at Tristan. "Where did that come from?"

"My mailbox."

"Where is the processing stamp from? What town?"

"There's not one. It just had my name typed on it."

"Holy fuck--yeah, Ben? It's Tristan. I mean it's Orion. No, nothing is fine. Got a letter from my stalker, I let Jake know, and we're heading to the police station now. I mean Tristan and I are." I pause and then take a deep breath, speaking slower. "Sorry. Tristan got a letter in his mailbox from my stalker, we're heading to the police station now, I wanted to let you and Jake know in case you wanted to lay low again or hire security or something. Okay yeah I will. Bye."

I hang up and shut my eyes, pressing my phone to my forehead. Tristan takes my free hand immediately.

"Breathe."

I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I lean my head back, keeping my eyes closed. "This is so fucked."

"I know."

"I'm scared, Tristan."

"I know, but we'll get through this, okay?" He squeezes my hand. "Everything is going to be fine."

Is it?