35. Roomates

I wonder if living in this dorm will ever start to feel real. After everything that’s happened the last few months, everything I’ve become, everything I’ve suffered, the idea of just going to college like a normal person feels absurd enough to be impossible. The fact that my roommate is constantly levitating doesn’t really help matters.

She’s currently showering before bed and I just… god I really hope she can’t read emotions through walls because my stupid robot brain is quite a bit more capable at extrapolating what a naked, soaped-up Castalia would look like than my human brain ever could have dreamed of being and that’s… invasive. Fucked up. Wildly inappropriate. Like normal people imagining each other naked is already a little weird but I can construct entire high-fidelity 3D models in my brain from passively-gathered sensory readings that let me extrapolate her exact measurements. So like. This is getting deleted and flagged as an activity to never do again. What the hell, me.

I still wonder why I can even feel this way. Even if someone agreed to have sex with me it’s not like I could feel it. It would just be me doing stuff for them, which… wouldn’t actually be that bad, come to think of it. That could be really nice, actually.

…I wonder if the idea of performing services for Castalia is appealing to me because I know she was close to Melpomene once.

The thought makes me physically cringe, disgust welling up inside me as I curl into a ball on the couch. Damn it, why did I think that? Fuck! Fuck, I don’t even know anymore. Oh, god, that one is going to haunt me. This body is so wonderful until it suddenly, really isn’t.

I need something to do. There are some dishes in the sink and I’m sure the kitchen needs cleaning in some capacity or another, so I stand up to start with that. I suppose the fact that I used to despise chores but now I kind of like them is another thing to be concerned about, but there are at least reasons for it tied to my new form that aren’t based around my obligatory servitude. My executive function issues made chores exhausting and painful. I can only do so many things in a day, and spending valuable mental energy on dishes was never an appealing prospect. It felt like a sunk cost, that by putting effort into cleaning I would be missing out on doing more enjoyable tasks—because yes, enjoying myself with an activity I actually like also seemed to draw from that same pool of motivation.

None of that is an issue anymore, though. On the contrary, I am so glutted with the capacity for action that I get anxious not constantly spending it all on something. Half of the things I find the most enjoyable, like composing music or talking to Bean, can be done concurrently with chores anyway, entirely within my own mind, without any risk of one task distracting from the other. So I get the satisfaction of getting work done, doing something enjoyable, and completing a task that other people will be thankful to me for doing, all without any real downside. It’s pretty great.

Wow, the inside of this microwave is filthy, though. This is like eighty percent hot pocket splatter by volume. I wonder if Castalia knows how to cook? I should cook for her. She said she likes Italian, right? Nanaya taught me all kinds of great Italian recipes.

I hear the water in the bathroom shut off, so I make a point to focus extra hard on cleaning things while Castalia dries herself off and, eventually, exits the bathroom. I glance over to her, and holy god above those are the cutest pajamas I have ever seen in my entire life.

She’s wearing a bright yellow onesie patterned with cartoon owls, all of which are in various states of confusion, excitement, or hilarious failure. Some of them are depicted faceplanting after failing to fly, others are trying to hang off a branch upside down like a bat and ending up with their heads comically inflated with blood, while another is trying to steal a box of pizza and finding it too heavy to lift. The entire thing is custom-fit, with only one sleeve and that sleeve having no opening at the end, simply curling snugly around her stub like a mitten. The hood, which she has up despite her still-drying hair, has both of the cartoon owls’ enormous eyes patterned on top of it.

When she notices me staring, she tilts her head to the side just like some of the pictures on the pajamas.

“What?” Castalia asks.

“I love your clothes,” I sign.

“Oh,” Castalia says, bobbing slightly up and down in the air. “Thank you. And thank you for… cleaning?”

She floats over to get a better look at the kitchen, her eyes widening slightly.

“Yes,” she confirms. “Thank you. I hope I am not too messy.”

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I like to clean.”

“I see,” Castalia says, seeming a little dubious of my claim, but opting not to press the point. “Well, the bathroom is free if you need it. I do not think I used up all the hot water, but if I did please let me know and I will heat up the boiler for you.”

Heat up the boiler? Shouldn’t that be entirely automatic? No, wait, she means…

“The hot water boiler for the building?” I ask. “I don’t think it is your fault if that runs out. And I think the maintenance people might be mad if you just magically flash the water it’s trying to heat up to temperature.”

Castalia blinks.

“No one has complained so far,” she tells me.

Well, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say to that. If the water heater is bad enough that this comes up often, everybody else in the building will probably be very mad at me if I get Castalia to stop… ‘fixing’ it.

“I don’t think it will be a problem,” I sign. “I take very short showers.”

Which is more or less a thing I’ve decided just now, but it’s not like I can enjoy the feeling of hot water on my skin the same way I could before. And I don’t really care, honestly. I don’t actually need showers for anything anymore, since I don’t sweat and have other ways of getting my body clean if needed, so I’m just showering because it would be really weird if I didn’t. Thea already tested to make sure the suit is watertight, so there’s no reason to avoid showering either. It’s just one of those things I’m going to be doing to keep up my disguise, like the little timer I have in the back of my head to alert me if I’ve gone too long without pretending to pee.

Oh, shoot. If I make Castalia dinner she’s going to expect me to eat it with her. I need to figure something out for that first. Dang it!

“Is everything alright?” Castalia asks. Oh yeah! The empathy I’m not supposed to know about. Every single time my mind goes on an upsetting tangent she’s going to feel it! That’s not horribly intimidating at all.

“Just thinking,” I dismiss. “Going to shower. What time do you sleep?”

“Usually in an hour or two,” Castalia answers.

Holy shit, she goes to bed at nine?

“Are you an early riser?” I ask.

“No,” Castalia answers. “I just sleep a lot.”

Huh.

“Flying around all day that tiring?” I ask.

She shakes her head, but doesn’t elaborate further. Well, fair enough, I guess. I can’t be too offended by someone keeping secrets, so I shrug it off and start putting the cleaning stuff away, heading for the bathroom.

“I could stay up a bit later,” Castalia says right before I grab the door. “Since classes haven’t started yet, if you wanted to do something.”

I look back at her, her toes curled underneath the booties of her onesie. Oh god, she’s anxious. Is this really the girl who has repeatedly saved the world?

“I would love to hang out,” I assure her. “Game? Movie?”

“I do not have any games,” she admits. “But I have some movies.”

“Let’s watch a movie,” I tell her, then head into the bathroom. Then I remember I don’t have my towels or a spare change of clothes in here, so I exit the bathroom, grab my things, awkwardly give Castalia a smile as I notice she’s just continuing to float where she was before, and then head back into the bathroom. Oh my god she is cute. Nanaya, if this was on purpose, I am going to kiss you. On the cheek. As a friend.

My power reserves just increased by two percent. Haha hoho weeeeee! Ooh that’s on top of the chunk I already got just for seeing those pajamas. Aaaah they’re so ridiculously good!

Okay. Okay, calm down. Shower time. Wow this is going to be the first shower I’ve taken in months, that’s kinda gross. I mean not really, since I have self-cleaning features and Thea gave me those incredible deep-cleaning sessions a couple times, but it’s still kind of odd. The bathroom here is a bit small but otherwise fairly normal, barring the shower itself which is a lot bigger than I expected. There’s even a whole seat in there, which… huh.

Is this a handicap shower? That’s interesting. I suppose Castalia certainly qualifies as handicapped, despite being able to fly and pick stuff up with her mind and whatnot. Well, I won’t say the extra space isn’t welcome. I should probably stay off the seat, though. I don’t want to break it with my giant metal ass.

True to my word, I take a quick shower. It’s still a little weird seeing my skinsuit naked, but it’s not a bad weird. If anything it’s a good weird, honestly. I really love how Thea made me look. After a quick rinse I towel myself off, pop on my own set of PJs (which are unfortunately just basic ones Nanaya bought at Costco, but at least they’re also yellow! …Oh my god she totally knew.) and head back out into the main room, where Castalia is sitting on the couch with her knees hugging her chest, a bowl of freshly-popped popcorn in front of her, and a spread of several movies fanned out on the table to choose from. I plop down on the couch next to her, feeling her excitement and anxiety and knowing she feels my amusement in response.

Leaning forward, I look at the movies on display. Huh. Quite a variety here. The first Shrek, nice. A schlocky-looking slasher film. A couple artsy old Oscar winners. And… wait.

“Is that a magical girl anime?” I sign incredulously.

“Yes,” Castalia nods. “I like it.”

“I thought they stopped selling those,” I comment.

“Only in some places. This one is pre-convergence. Back when we thought magic wasn’t possible. It is a good movie. I always cry.”

“Are there post-convergence magical girl anime?” I ask. “That sounds… offensive.”

“Yes. They are unpleasant. Most are political. Very anti–Earth Guardian. The happy ones do not get made anymore. Except for PreCure. It’s okay.”

Huh. Well, as curious as I am to watch an actual magical girl show with the world’s most powerful Earth Guardian, I’m kinda… really fuckin’ tired of magical girl stuff, actually? And I’d much rather get to know Castalia as just… a person, I guess. That’s another fringe benefit of this whole robot kidnapping thing, actually. She’s not a mythical figure in my mind anymore. She’s terrifyingly powerful, sure, but I’ve been getting my ass kicked by her old teammate for a while now so raw strength has kind of lost its luster. Magic isn’t some insurmountable gap between us anymore. Not that I can ever tell her that.

Still. Movies to get to know someone. I gotta say, I am morbidly curious about this horror flick. With a good movie, I just want to… y’know, watch the movie. But with a bad movie, we can riff on it, joke around, have some fun. So I tap it a couple times, immediately noticing Castalia starting to squirm.

“…The horror movie?” she asks. “Are you sure?”

Oh?

“Not a fan of horror?” I ask.

“Well. I have not actually watched that one yet,” Castalia deflects. “I do not know if it is good.”

“I am fully expecting it to be bad,” I answer. “Let’s watch it.”

“Oh. Hmm. Oh dear. Okay? If that is what you want.”

“It is!” I assure her. This is going to be fun.

My suspicions are quickly confirmed as the movie progresses: Castalia is terrible with horror movies. Hilariously terrible. When the main characters are wandering around the dark and the ominous soundscape starts to ramp up and the blurred movements start twitching at the corners of the screen she just loses it. Her eyes start trying to bulge out of her skull and her stub arm jerkily shakes up and down and she is entirely enraptured despite how comically predictable this movie is. It’s amazing. The most powerful girl in the world is sitting next to me on the couch and making mournful squeaking noises whenever a dude in a freaky costume walks by on screen.

I almost don’t want to interrupt her groove… and then I realize it’s actually a little difficult to do that in the first place because I’m mute, and she’s so taken in by the movie she doesn’t notice me trying to sign things. Which… come to think of it, is probably a lot less effective for movie riffing anyway, since unlike verbal communication she has to look away from the screen to participate in the conversation.

Eh. This is a solvable problem. I pull out my phone and open up a simple text-to-speech app, and then send .wav files to my phone of what I want to say instead of using it. But like. I’ll still pretend I’m using it.

“So. Who do you think dies first?” I ask.

Castalia gasps in sudden terror, jolting an inch up off the couch and briefly glowing yellow before realizing it was just my phone, at which point she descends back down and simply stares at me in horrified shock.

“You think he’s going to kill them…?” she whispers.

Ohhhhhh my god!? I can’t help it. I have to fake a silent laugh, there’s no way my emotional response would make any sense otherwise. I quickly tap away at my phone.

“Yes, he’s going to kill them!” I respond, the digitized voice failing to truly represent the extent of my mirth. “It’s a slasher movie, Castalia!”

“But why would he do that?” she whines. “They haven’t done anything wrong…”

“Do you know what a slasher movie is?” I ask.

“I do,” Castalia insists. “I have watched them before. Mostly.”

“What do you mean ‘mostly?'” I ask.

“Well it’s been several years,” Castalia says, “but I used to have to… hide my face for most of them. I do not know why Thalia kept making me watch them.”

Oh I think I know why she kept making you watch them. This is incredible.

“I did not expect you to be such a scaredy cat!” I admit.

“I am not. …Normally,” she insists. “Not… anymore. But this is different. That man is being very mean and aggressive to innocent people. I don’t like it.”

“I’m not sure if the point of a horror movie is to really like it, per se,” I command my phone to answer. “Especially not one this dumb. This one is barely even scary. You just have to take a step back and look at all the tricks. It’s a movie. It’s not real. You don’t have to feel bad about it.”

Castalia blinks.

“But I want to feel bad about it,” she says.

She’s not looking at the movie anymore, she’s looking at me, her head once more tilted like an owl. So I respond by going back to sign language, since that would be more natural for my cover.

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“Why?” I ask.

“Because it is important to feel things,” she answers.

I feel my eyebrows scrunch together as I stare at her with worry.

“I don’t think it’s healthy to purposefully seek out bad things in order to feel bad,” I sign. Experience tells me that’s the sort of behavior that can seriously fuck someone up. Castalia gets very quiet as she considers my words, taking quite a while to ultimately decide on what to say.

“…It isn’t healthy to avoid them, either,” she decides. “A person will miss far too much, fleeing from suffering and strife. Like this movie. With you. It is worth the cost.”

Oh, aha! Alright. Well, there go my blush subroutines. I give her a quick “OK” sign and return my gaze firmly to the screen. Not where I expected this conversation to go!

I know she doesn’t mean that romantically. We literally just met and she’s just… like that, I guess. She’s intending to make a broader philosophical point and is completely unaware of how that comes off because of course she is, heaven forbid any current or former Earth Guardian have even the slightest conception of flirting. God, what is even happening in the movie now? Is that girl being chased by evil bees? Sure, why not.

Still, the rest of the movie is fun. Soon enough the mood returns and Castalia once more devolves into a series of adorably exaggerated reactions. She’s very weird. I’m crushing on her real hard. I’ll almost certainly ask her out at some point.

…Wow. It’s weird I can think that and just believe it. I really could decide to ask her out and just do it, damn the fear and damn the consequences. I no longer need to worry about struggling to accomplish anything I set my mind to. There’s no reason I can’t just ask her. Other than, of course, the fact that I work for her sworn enemies and am bound to serve them and am secretly a robotic artifact that she’s supposed to turn in to the Preservers and that any relationship between us—romantic or otherwise—is fundamentally built on lies that I am physically incapable of telling her about, no matter the circumstances. Which is an absolutely horrific basis on which to build a partnership of any sort.

So. Y’know, on second thought, I am absolutely never going to ask her out, ever. It’s kind of fucked up that I’m befriending her in the first place, really. Oh I’m starting to spiral, huh? I could burn this off, but would Castalia notice if I just chew up this much emotion all at once? I mean she’s going to notice I’m having a sudden depressive spiral if I don’t, and that’s going to be embarrassing. Come on, come on. Calm down, Luna. Do those meditation exercises Nanaya taught you. Think about music.

My skinsuit closes its eyelids as I consciously stop focusing on what I’m seeing and begin my exercises. The subroutine dedicated to making certain I’m always presenting as realistically alive ensures every useless breath I take is long and deep, the air sac installed entirely to fake this function inflating and compressing within my chest as I push aside the depressed panic and focus northward, refilling my reserves as I calm myself down.

When I open my eyes again, the movie is nearly over. I glance over at Castalia to find her staring at the screen, small tears running down the intact half of her face. Maybe the movie was better than I expected. Or maybe she’s just a bit of a sap, even for bad movies.

…Or she felt my sudden depression spike because she’s an absurdly powerful empath. But even if she did, I don’t think that would make her cry. Unless she thought she did something wrong? Gah, this is all so complicated. Empaths make social interaction even more complicated than it already always is. And one of the many lies I need to tell is pretending I’m not one of them.