The Scientist

The Arsonist

Xisuma pov:

Waking up the day after the storm was disorienting, to say the least. The world outside had quieted, but the tension from the night still lingered in the apartment. I glanced over and saw Keralis still sound asleep beside me. His face, relaxed and peaceful, was framed by the messy strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. I reached over, gently brushing the hair out of his face, my fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It was a rare moment of calm, and for the first time, waking up to Keralis's beautiful face gave me a sense of grounding, something to hold on to in the chaos that had become my life.

The fires still haunted me. The facility, reduced to ash and ruin, had been the beginning. After that, other health buildings went up in flames, each one a grim echo of the last. I had brought it all up to Impulse, hoping that as a private detective, he could make sense of it. He said he’d look into it, but even he didn’t seem optimistic about finding answers. The police were at a loss, too. Everything was a mess.

Regretfully, I pulled myself away from the warmth of the bed and blankets. The comfort was something I didn’t want to leave behind, especially not after the emotional rollercoaster of the last day. But I knew there were things to be done, even if I didn’t know where to start.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Keralis. The poor guy definitely needed his sleep after crying so hard last night. His body was still curled up, clinging to the remnants of peace he’d found. I made my way to the kitchen, mindlessly getting started on making food for both of us. Simple stuff—something warm, something comforting. My mind, however, couldn’t stop circling back to what had happened last night.

Shashwambam? Where the hell did that even come from? It didn’t make any sense. Not remotely close to my name, and yet there was something strangely endearing about it. Keralis had seemed so embarrassed after he said it, too. His voice was different—his own, not the copy of mine he’d been using. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to figure out who he was.

I stirred the food on autopilot, but I kept replaying that moment in my head, trying to understand it. Whatever it was, it felt like a shift. Something had changed, and I wasn't sure what that meant for him or for me.

Today was oatmeal day. I had to go shopping for more food later, so this would have to do for now. The way we’d been getting paid recently was by maintaining the building—walking around, picking up trash, planting gardens. You know, making the place look nice and habitable. It saved us a little money here and there, and Mumbo had been chipping in with what he called "trauma payments." Honestly, I’m not going to argue with extra cash, even if the title makes me wince a little.

After finishing up with the oatmeal, I figured it was time to wake up Keralis. Easier said than done. I headed back to the room, spoon in hand, and lightly nudged him. His response? A groan and a very adamant refusal to join the land of the living.

"Come on, Keralis. Oatmeal’s ready," I called softly, leaning over him.

He groaned again, curling deeper into the blankets. I didn't have my plushie with me, not that I was freaking out. It was currently clutched tightly in Keralis’s arms, his face buried in its head. I gently poked him with the spoon.

"Come on, buddy, food time. Don’t make me start airplane noises.”

His mumble was muffled by the plushie. “Mmmph... not ready to get up… Shashwambam.” The last part was barely a whisper, but I caught it.

I blinked. "Did you just—are you still calling me Shashwambam? Seriously, Keralis?"

He peeked one eye out, half-asleep and looking sheepish. “It fits…”