Chapter 6--Routing Under the Sun

I’ve haven’t been doing great lately. I just feel guilty, even though Bo didn’t take any bad blood from it. I told them most of my grievances, was brave enough to mention my frustration with being different, and we talked through the feelings; everything should be okay now. I didn’t tell him about how I felt like I was following in the Noise’s footsteps.

Okay okay, there’s no way I’d go down the exact same spiral that she did—but it could happen. He wasn’t good to me and that hurt me a lot, but I can still hurt too. I really could. There was that one time I almost took off my top in front of Vigi because she complimented me. She’s asexual, and I almost did that! Thank every single fiber of my will that I caught it sooner than later and got on some pills. At least I can sometimes take a step back and try to calm down. Sometimes.

Today’s been treating me a little better than the last couple days have been. I think the anxiety’s starting to pass and daily life will feel normal again fairly soon. It’s Sunday too, and that’s definitely contributing. I am just a little bummed for obvious reasons. It’s nothing that I can’t manage. I got a day off, I got a supportive friend, and I can just be lazy.

At least we’re starting the day pleasantly; we’re having a bit of breakfast as a treat. We don’t need to eat, but a lot of angels and demons like to eat for fun. Before Bo came around, most days I just had dinner. It was nice, but you don’t know how lonely it really is until you have someone regularly eating with you. That, and you never realize how small the world can be when someone else likes eating caramel waffles with deep fried eggs.

Bo dabs the last of their eggs in the caramel drizzle and eats it in one bite. “You’re a good cook, Noisette,” he compliments. “The sensation is so potent I almost feel human!”

Honestly, I’m a little shocked. They weren’t hesitant at all when trying it out like so many people are.

I gently laugh. “Really? I’m so used to getting mixed opinions about my cooking.”

“I see why, but I think everyone should be a little adventurous sometimes. Sadly, not everyone is… good thing I’m not everyone!” They then take a big bite out of their waffle.

My heart is warmed. “You’re one in a million, Broski.”

Bo tilts their head down and smiles toothily, looking flattered. “And you’re one in a billion, ettie.” They then drift into thought before changing the subject completely. “Who’s your secret cartoon furry crush? Okay, maybe not secret but like, what’s a furry crush you have?”

Hmm. This is a good question. An unprompted one, but a good one. I don’t revel in romantic feelings I have towards cartoon characters that often, but admittedly it’s very fun. Gotta dig deep in my head for this one.

“ooh, okay…” Gotta think about it more. “Yeah, I can think of a couple. I watched one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies with Pepperman and Vigilante—they’re f-friends of mine; I think I’ve told you before. I believe it was the… 2023 film? Yeah, that version of Leatherhead… I’ll just say she’s a hottie! Her and the shark guy from the Bad Guys movies.”

Bo nods in agreement. “Yes, yes… that is very good,” they comment, sounding like a wise and thoughtful ascetic. He starts to stroke one of their cape tapers like a mustaches, and giggles awkwardly. “Okay, it might be a bit of a silly one but… Peck from Animal Jam.”

“I don’t even know who that is, so I can’t even give an opinion, haha.”

“Oh, she’s a rabbit and she’s purple. She draws and she’s like, one of the big leader figures in the game. If I say more than that I might go on some strange tangent.”

Not gonna lie, Bo never seemed like a romantic type to me. They don’t talk about that kind of stuff often, and never in a way that you can tell what they’re really into gender-wise. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to point it out.

“Heheh, I never knew you liked women. Nothing wrong with it—I just find it funny that it took a while for me to learn that.”

They snort and take the sentiment lightly. “Oh yeah. It’s a little hard to tell that I’m a butch, given that I wear my onesie and all.”

“I had no idea you were a lesbian.”

“I’ve been told I’m hard to read in general,” they remark.

I’ll be honest, it’s gotten harder to read you now that I know you’re not always there. Or maybe it just makes things more confusing. I just find myself thinking about all the little shifts in their form and wondering what they mean. Despite being eccentric, they’re aren’t really inconsistent in their personality for the most part. They get pretty serious during work, but it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. I really don’t want this to devolve into paranoia—by god, I’d hate that—I’m just curious. And confused. I guess I could live without ever hearing an answer. The whole thing seems pretty personal to them.

I feel like any response to that remark would just be uncomfortable, but we’re just sitting in unresolved silence now. It’s hard to leave it alone, though. It’s a loaded statement, one that I’m starting to know the contents of! Well, maybe I could use it as an opportunity to set up a boundary.

“Uhm, about you being hard to read,” I begin. Bo stops looking at the window and focuses on me. “Since now that I know you… act differently sometimes, m-maybe you could give me indicator whenever you’re, eh, ‘out’?”

Bo sighs and furrows their brow in thought. “I… I might be able to communicate something in those moments—problem is, I can't always do that. If I need some space or something I’d tell you, but—“ They stop beating around the bush. “Okay, you have an idea of what’s going on. A couple of my buddies aren’t good talkers and/or are too… troubled to function on their own.”

“I know you get all freezed up when you’re really stressed; I suppose in those tough cases I’ll still have some kind of cue to rely on,” I speculate.

“Yeah… I just don’t know if there’s anything else you can rely on…”

I feel a pit in my stomach as I see Bo’s expression get grim.

“H-hey, we’ll figure something out, okay? With all suffering comes reflection… or something.” I reach my hand over to pat their shoulder, but the table’s too long for me to reach. They meekly smile and shake my hand.

“After every storm is the sun. With all suffering comes a lollipop at the end.”

My phone starts ringing, snapping both of us out of the sentimental moment. I shift through one of my sweatpant pockets to grab my phone and look at the caller.

“It’s Doise.”

I gave her my contact a while back in order to make this whole “plan” spheal more convenient. I pick up the phone and warmly greet him. “Morning, Doise! I’m having breakfast with Bo right now. What’cha calling for?”

“Oh, hey. You busy today?”

“Nope. Bo and I had nothing really in mind today.”

“Good good, ‘cause like, the plan’s pretty much all worked out now outside of a couple bugs. I would like for all of us to… practice what I got in mind because it’s a little complicated. Also, spring’s coming pretty soon and y’know, the rain gets bad, and then the mudslides start happening… There’s a bit of a deadline.”

I’d rather practice another day, but I won’t protest.

“Yeah, I get ‘ya. When do you want to meet us at the forest?”

“Uh…” she pauses for a moment. “The fuck, it’s 8:00 AM?! Wow… I usually wake up at eleven. Lemme think uhhh… hmm—noon works. I think.”

“We can do noon!”

“Alright, see ya at the underpass.” She then hangs up.

“Was it related to that plan thing?” Bo asks.

“Yep. Seems like it’s actually happening.”

“I guess it’s now or never.”

We arrive to the underpass in front of the forest, just like Doise asked. That underpass sorta functions as the unofficial entrance for the whole place. Doise, Doisette, and Fakey are lounging on some nearby trees, somewhat obscured by the distance.

“Hey guys!” I call out. Doise and the others run towards us, with Fakey arriving first and opening their arms out for a hug. I reciprocate and we embrace.

“Haha, did you miss me? I know we haven’t talked in a while.”

“Aye… I also just wanted an embrace,” Fakey replies.

“Aw, aren’t well aren’t you a treat!” And I hug Fakey again.

Doise butts in and says nothing for a moment, but has her hands suspended like she’s about to say something. “Right, okay… so basically…”

Everyone turns their attention to the Doise.

“The plan’s kinda weird. You already get a bit of the deal and a lot of it is up to chance. But…” She holds up a finger and scrunches her face to think again. “I have a couple, uhm, routines? Like, little trails we go through—”

“Like a route?” I state, confused.

“Yeah yeah! There’s one spot I’m planning to set the trap, but Peddito’s unpredictable and you might find him in an odd spot. So like, I wanna show you a couple routes so you don’t get lost in the forest. Shouldn’t be too bad, one of them goes through that bog.”

“Ah, I see our roleplay had some good for you too!” Bo chimes.

“Yeah, and Noisette’s gonna help you keep Peddito on that goose chase.”

Fakey’s head slithers towards the Doise. “I could always help with herding the beast, too…”

“No no, Fakey. You gotta help us feed the landslide. That, and… it would be nice if Doisette and I could have some protection,” the Doise softly explains.

“I-I mean, I’ll have my pistol on me, so if we get in trouble and Fakey can’t help, it’s not all lost,” Doisette flounders.

The Doise sighs bleakly. “Bullets only do so much, DS.”

Doisette frowns and looks away in response.

“So… Bo and I just gotta memorize the trails? Is that it?” I survey, trying to get us all back on topic.

“Yeup—I mean, Doisette and I have to plan the camping trip we’ll have to make, consider some other stuff we might need, but… yeah.”

“Camping trip?” I slip out in slight awe. “Sounds demanding—b-but uh… not impossible, though.”

“Yeah, it’s possible.” she remarks dryly, then starts walking into the forest. We all follow.

A couple yards in, the Doise crunches up and yelps, “shit! Before I forget!” She sharply pivots towards Bo, whipping a finger towards him. “I gotta give you some of my clothes so you’ll smell on me when… it happens and stuff.”

The weight of the statement tugs my face down, and I look at Bo to see they have the same expression as I do.

Bo lets out a breathy and stilted “haha”, trying to prevent another tailspin. “I-I—this is eh, a bit touchy… I’ll just say I met the g-guy recently and he let me off with a warning.”

The Doise’s bloodshot eyes shrink in horror and his mouth becomes agape in a sickly manner. Discomfort grows on all of our faces, Bo in particular doing all they can to hide it. It hurts. I can’t stand the idea so much I don’t even want to think about it.

“This plan better fucking work,” the Doise finally prays, the sentiment strangling under his breath. “C’mon, I’ll walk you through that one path that goes through the bog. It’s not too far away.”

Old fallen trees, large stump, dirt patch. Struggling to find good landmarks. It seems like the trees thin out a good lot as we get closer to the bog. Okay, a lot of places are like that here, but other areas are weirdly thick. It’s all very unpredictable.

Either way, it feels empty. I didn’t see a lot of wildlife last time I was here and I’m not seeing much so far. But most of the foliage is decently green. A chunk of the trees look fairly old. The streams still flow, and no desire paths have been made. It’s quiet. Uneventful, like there’s not a problem at all. It could be worse, I guess.

Bo and I continue to glide over the bog, making a short distance before realizing the others weren’t following us. Fakey crouched down towards the ground to observe the qualities of the landscape. The bog isn’t certainly the biggest of its kind, but it stretches for a good distance. It looks like Fakey is anticipating to jump, their face scrunching up as they try to calculate their approach.

“Doiseys, mount me. I’ll help you get by,” Fakey commands, which Doisette and the Doise follow through.

Fakey’s folds into a tensed, potential blob, quivering with energy before snapping into a frog-like leap that swiftly covers about a third of the distance. Bo and I rush towards the others, following their trajectory before Fakey hits the ground. Their landing is not very pretty. One of Fakey’s hands gets enveloped by the soggy, unstable ground, causing their body to jolt aggressively in discomfort. The motion almost throws the Doise and Doisette off of Fakey’s back. We finally reach the others.

Fakey’s breath sputters like an old car from disgust. “I-I-I resssspond negatively t-t-t-to getting wwwwet…”

“That doesn’t mess up your programs, does it?” The Doise asks uneasily.

It takes a moment to respond, panting and holding one of its limbs away from the muck like an injured animal. “N-nigh. My b-barriers are no osmosis unless p-punctured.”

“I think it’s just a couple more leaps to the end, big guy. We can avoid it next time, okay?” Doisette swoops in, comforting Fakey.

Fakey shakes their head before mustering up some strength to make another hop, haphazardly making its way to the other side.

I forgot how much Fakey hated water. I wonder how it’s gonna fare in the rain. I wish I could help Fakey wipe off the grime, but I came unprepared. We take a little breather as Fakey tried to rub off the excess water on the surrounding vegetation.

“I-I don’t want this to seem rude but, how is this plan going to work if we need it to rain and Fakey hates getting wet?” I question the Doise.

“Oh, don’t worry. Fakey has a couple of clothes for the rain. They’re not in the best shape, but they still work fine,” Doisette clarifies.

“T-the rain from the sky… is less bothersome,” Fakey adds.

I should stop being so pessimistic.

We continue through the trail, the Doise adding extra notes about the plan and I keep my eyes peeled for landmarks. Small creek, birch pond, passage of young trees, lone stump—ending at the smaller hill south of the forest’s centerpiece, neighbored by one of the tallest trees in the area.

“This is the end of the first route, right?” Bo inquires. The Doise nods in response.

“Now, what’s the point of this alternate route, by the way?” I add.

The Doise tenses up her rotting face, and thinks hard, thinking that quickly turns into embarrassment. “I… I didn’t think that one through.”

You better not groan, Noisette. You don’t do those kinds of things.

Doisette places a hand on the Doise’s shoulder and makes eye contact with Bo and I. “W-well, if we need to,” he begins, “I could split up from Doise n’ Fakey to keep a status on this hill. We’ll have to tell you which place is prime for a landslide… when the time comes.”

“I guess…” the Doise sighs.

“Look, I don’t like to be leaving you alone at a time like that, but… at least Fakey’s got your back.” Then he laughs, “besides, I’m not that helpless. I lift weights, I own a gun. That thing don’t seem to want me, either.”

“You’re right,” she says while nodding. “But I don’t like leaving you alone either.”

Doisette’s frown deepens and he looks away.

“And it would be a ssssin on me end to leave either of you unpro-tected,” Fakey tags on, huddling with the other two. “We have time to… revise.”

We have a moment of silence before the Doise says something. “We can all worry about that a little later. Let’s go through the other routes.” And away we go again.

I noticed it before, but now it’s really on my mind. He carries that pistol with him around his waist a lot. I know him and the Doise don’t come the most… fortunate background, so it’s a bit odd they just… have that. It looks vintage too.

As we’re walking, I start a conversation with Doisette. “Hey Doisette, how’d you get into weight lifting and stuff?”

“Oh, eheh—I need to be strong so I can h-help others. That and, I wanted to make my figure less feminine.”

He seems to be pretty far in his transition. Looks pretty young for being in his forties, too. If I didn’t know him for a good while, it’d would’ve took me a good while to clock him.

“The exercise is doing wonders for you, I’ll say.”

“C’mon girl, it ain’t the best. Once you notice my boobs, you ain’t ignorin’ it,” he scoffs with self-loathing.

“I would’ve let you wear your binder if we weren’t walkin’ circles, bruh,” the Doise points out.

“I’ve done way worse while wearing a binder, but you’re right. I gotta take care of myself.”

I never went through that pain. For as long as I can remember, I had breasts and was at least a little curvaceous. My hair was always long and I always wore pink.

But I’m just doing a voice. And I didn’t always have my vagina, nor could I ever bear children, even back then. I am ultimately like this because I was supposed to be the dream of someone who hated their body like me. I forget that sometimes, that I’m someone else’s fantasy. I was. I really could stop with the facade—I mean I like it; it makes me feel good! But you know. You know. I know what happens when I’m at the end of my rope. It hurts… but sometimes I feel like I’ll have to stop pretending one day. Not today, though. Not today.

I see the old pistol glimmer under the sunlight.

“I-if it isn’t weird to ask, how did you get that gun?” I budge in.

Doisette’s slows down a little to get closer to me.

“You don’t happen to remember or know a ‘Mr. Stick’, do you?” He asks softly.

“Yeah, a little. Never really talked to him. He and his husband took care of you two, right?”

He lets out a hearty chuckle. “Nah, ’took care’ is an understatement. They was family—family in a way that no real family could be.”

“I remember seeing you two with those old farts in passing every now and again. Kinda weird how… logical it felt to see you all together. Like, how a park has benches or the sky is blue—you were all together because that’s how it always was.”

He laughs. “We were worlds apart, but they still got to us.” His tone gets more drab. “Of course, they dead now and for a while it felt like there was no other world to go to.”

Bo flutters closer to Doisette and me with a sympathetic look.

“How’d you deal with it, if it isn’t too much to ask?” I say softly.

“I think they died in our late 20s. We had some footing, but we were sure as hell homeless. Before they died, Stick told us where he hid our inheritance money since he put back writin’ his will for a long time,” he chuckles weakly, “he’d kick back in his chair after lunch to read the terms n’ service of some random app he got but didn’t have the attention span to write his will!” He continues, growing serious, “but that money… we be dead without it. He and Burton dug around to help us become legal citizens too, but we had to still trudge through some bullshit. It was still and it still hell now, but at least we got an apartment.”

“It’s crazy how much just having a roof under you head helps you, man,” the Doise remarks. “There’d be weeks where I’d lie around like I was dead, weeks where I didn’t talk to anyone, weeks where I’d stay awake thinkin’ I could hear Noise’s thoughts or some shit—it was bad, bruh. I mean, I still tweak out, but I’m smarter now.”

“God, was it rough,” Doisette comments.

The Doise perks up with worry. “I can’t apologize enough for the shit I gave you, man. I know we’re better now and whatever, but… it’s hard to forgive myself sometimes.”

Doisette places a hand on the Doise’s back. “You’ve done more work than that yellow cunt ever did.” He kisses him on the cheek. “We’ve come so far. Don’t forget that, okay?”

The Doise smiles, smiles in a way that is held back by the weight of everything but wants to take pleasure in the sentiment. “You’re right. You’re heaven on Earth, DS. I got some spendin’ money. I’ll gift you that platformer you’ve been eyeing on Steam when we get home.”

Doisette becomes flushed and retreats into himself. “Aw, c’mon man—I won’t die if you don’t buy it but…” he grabs onto the Doise and whispers some kind of sweet nothing to him. I think it’s in Spanish. The Doise giggles and playfully pushes him away before shouting something else in Spanish. They burst into boisterous guffaws, but quickly shush one another with a dramatic line of action and their fingers over their lips.

“Speaking of love, what’s your guys’ secret furry crush?” Bo butts in, somewhat out of the blue. The two of them take a moment to calm down, though they’ve got huge smiles on their faces.

“Am I going to hell for wanting to fuck the crane from Kung Fu Panda?” Doisette asks, filled with both shame and humor.

“Actually, you’re going to heaven for wanting that.”

“Do I go to heaven for finding Vector the Crocodile attractive?” The Doise asks, raising her hand up.

“Yes. Always,” and Bo says that while fluttering their eyelashes.

“What about you, Fakey?” You got any furry crushes?” I chime in, trying to make Fakey feel included. It slows down to be apart of the group, closing its eyes in thought for a moment. It thinks hard. Really hard. The concentration devolves into confusion, then embarrassment.

“Does eh… t-t-trading phantom material—dryly, that is—with a garbage can… is that a valid answer?”

We all struggle to give a response—and I hate all the ones that are invading my head right now—but Bo, whom of which is the first person to give a response.

“That works good enough!” Bo replies cheerfully, and with no teeth to lie with. The rest of us smile, somewhat sheepishly. I feel like my smile’s the sheepiest out of all of them.

“Fuck man, I am hungry.” The Doise blurts. “Can we take a little break. Your little legs probs need to rest anyway.”

A collection of large, soft rocks a couple yards away offers good convenience. We all head over to the rocks and sit down, Fakey taking a rest in the grass and Bo sitting on the tallest and narrowest stone, like a bird perched on a chimney. The Doise plops her backpack onto the ground and shifts through it, pulling out a bag of chicharrones and a somewhat smushed sandwich in a bag. He takes a bite, his eyes rested and mellow as he chews.

That is gnarly—As in, the way you can just… see the food ever so slightly pass between her ribs. It’s subtle though; if she was hunched over even just a bit further, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it from where I’m sitting. Bo shares my interest, but not my shock. He’s hard to read sometimes.

“How human are you?” Bo asks the Doise with an air of naivete.

The Doise exhales from her nose and her eyes bulge out. “There a lot of layers to that,” he sighs, “my head asks it every day.” She looks off, strangely bored looking. “If I got my bones out, then the real answer is no. I’ve been run over one time and was normal—I got up all fine and stuff. I won’t die from starving or whatever, but everything still hurts real bad.”

“A weird world you sure live in,” Bo remarks. “My life is weird too. Us angels and demons can only die when sleep deprived. And we don’t feel hungry or anything, but a lot of things still hurt.”

“Do you like eating? I do.”

“It’s fun, like celebrating a birthday! It makes me feel like I’m playing Dead Man’s Brains but with my mouth, sometimes.”

“Bruh, what the fuck is ‘Dead Man’s Brains’?” He laughs, “you just say things, man! What is that?”

“Hahah! Wow, you are young! I guess people stopped playing it after the 2000s.”

He goes on, and I happen to turn my head towards Doisette, who’s sitting right across me. We lock eyes and he makes a beckoning gesture, then points to a more private area nested in the trees. Is this something serious? The others are invested in their conversation, paying no mind to us. I guess it’s fine to leave.

Doisette and I walk a small distance into the trees without saying a word. He suddenly stops and pulls out his pistol.

“I just remembered I didn’t tell you about how I got this thing. It’s… well, I’ve told Doise before—I just don’t wanna ruin the mood. On a bad day it could really get to him—it never happened, but it… I don’ know, I just have a feeling.”

“Well, if it’s really intense, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not really a close friend, y’know,”

“No no, but I trust you,” he clarifies, glancing at me for a moment before returning to look at the gun.

I feel something, like I’ve been doused in some substance that I can’t identify.

“When Stick d-died… I was the last person he saw. Doise couldn’t stand the sight of him dying, felt guilty about it if I recall. She was scared she’d ‘curse’ him somehow. So I stayed with Stick during his last minutes. He gave me a box and this pistol was in it. Then he said—this I remember most—he said, ‘Dante… Dante, you protect that boy. Protect him like you always do. I’ve done all I can…” he pauses to sniffle, “and you keep doin’ all you can.’ And I nodded. And he closed his eyes. And then he went cold.”

It’s not in my domain to connect to this… I feel it though. As if I deserve it. And I feel it.

I say, “I understand,” because I have no strength to say something actually meaningful right now.

“I’m scared, Noisette. It feels wrong to say I need that plan to work as much as she does. I mean, there’s… the obvious—but there’s something about seeing it snow in the summer and the sun coming out the next day anyway. The sun still shine when blood spills. And it still shine when he die. That shit still shines if you hide in a corner or try to save the day. And I don’t like it. I need it to mean something again.”

The sun bleeds through the thousands of holes in the forest. Whiteness, just pure whiteness. There couldn’t be a day more brighter than today.