Ford shot up out of bed, screaming as he always did. Sleep was an unsafe place for him. Falling asleep was hard, staying asleep was harder. Most nights he stayed awake, working on his mysterious machine. He'd go until he couldn't anymore and eventually drift off, only to be startled awake by some minuscule sound, or a bad dream.
"Why do you work yourself like this?" Fiddleford asked. He'd gotten used to Ford's routine, but he didn't understand it.
"I've gotten much better," Ford would reassure him, and the sad truth was that he had. Ford was evasive about the cause of this paranoia and anxiety. Although as Fiddleford recalled it, he reckoned his friend always had a touch of the "Trust no one's". Like all things there were times where it was better or worse. He'd carry on for days, sometimes weeks where it seemed to be improving. All it took was one dream of some sort of demon and blue flames for it to come crashing down. Fiddleford wondered if Ford had encountered some sort of being out here that had messed his brain up. After all, they'd discovered some strange things since he'd gotten here. Magic gnomes, alien space ships, dinosaurs encased in Amber. Very few things seemed impossible to Fiddleford these days.
One particular night the pair found themselves on the roof, keeping watch for the Dogman, a terrifying humanoid Sasquatch werewolf hybrid who had a nasty habit of digging through their trash.
"Are you ever gonna clue me in on what keeps you wound up at night?" Fiddleford asked.
"It's not important," Ford grumbled.
"If it's not important then I reckon there should be no problem in sharing," Fiddleford rebuffed.
"There are some things that don't matter, but they stay unspoken. You should know about that," he quipped.
"I beg your pardon?"Fiddleford asked defensively.
"I, it's just, it's nothing I don't see why we need to carry on with this conversation. We all have secrets, let me bury this and be done with it," he gruffed. For a moment Fiddleford did let it be, but curiosity burned in him.
"Does this have to do with that machine you're always obsessively working on," Fiddleford pressed.
"Fiddleford enough!" Ford said exasperated. He wasn't angry, he just didn't want to talk about this anymore.
"I reckon it does!" Ford tried to interrupt but he kept on going, "I will not continue to blindly build a machine and care for some mysterious ailment! I will help you, I have done nothing but help you, but I reckon you need to start giving me some answers!" He said bravely.
"I can't," Ford yelled back, "I couldn't tell you if I wanted to! You wouldn't understand it's so tied up inside of me tightly underneath everything I am. This curse on me, on this house! I am plagued by knowing, plagued by seeing! You pry and you want, and you don't even know what you're begging for! Let me be!" He choked on his sobs.
"I, I think I understand," Fiddleford whimpered, "I reckon I don't, but I reckon I do know the feeling you describe. Maybe not so much the personal experience. You know growing up in the south, in the church, there were feelings I couldn't quite say out loud. I reckon I still can't, and the deep pain and guilt, the resentment I felt to people who could just say it out loud. Well I don't know, in fact I don't even know what point I'm trying to make," he drifted off, "I guess I just wanted to say it out loud, maybe be free of it." Fiddleford said to the sky, more than he really meant it for Ford.
"You're gay," Ford said. This flustered Fiddleford.
"Well I'm not! It's more complicated than that! I don't know what I am! Maybe I'm just deviant, maybe I don't mind either way. They've got these people called bisexuals out in California. And it's not as simple as that!" He defended himself.
"Sure sure, sexuality is a spectrum. Most things are. Have you..." Ford trailed off.
"Well no! I mean, when would I? How could I?" Fiddleford said again, his face turning bright red.
"You're a scientist, you should investigate this,"
"I'm not a scientist, I'm an engineer, and I'm not an experiment, I'm a person,"
"You're a homosexual,"
"You don't know that! I loved Emma May!,"
"Loved?"
"Yeah well, we, um, well I reckon she was tired of me. She said I was too invested in my work, said I didn't make her feel loved. But I swear it, I loved her! I mean, I didn't have the sex drive that I once did. I mean it's, it's so strong in the beginning, it's new, it's fun. Life it just, it got in the way, and maybe I didn't buy her flowers, or take her out, maybe I didn't tell her enough, but I did. She was so caring and patient, she was funny too. She had the quickest wit in the south, and she never had to be cruel to get a laugh. The best woman I've ever known and I wore her down to nothing,"
"I, I didn't know. I thought you'd," there was a pause, or a stumble, Ford's voice cracked as he continued, "I thought you'd given up everything to be here with me,".
"I reckon I did," he said softly, "in a lot of ways,".
"I believe you," Ford said, to Fiddleford's confusion, "oh, um, that you, y'know, loved Emma Mae," he elaborated quickly.
"What makes you say that?" Fiddleford pushed.
"Sex isn't the basis for love. As humans we have carnal desires but I've found a kind of love bigger than that. More complex, less, how should I say this? Less physical, but nonetheless real, and I feel its absence worse than anything. I imagine you might feel the same?" Ford said.
"I might, although I reckon I don't know what you're referring to," Fiddleford hesitated.
"An old partner of mine," Ford trailed off, clearing his throat he continued, "You know, I've learned the hard way. If you don't tell someone you love them, and you never show it, they never know it,".
Fiddleford felt suddenly hot, his heart skipped at the thought that maybe it was him Fiddleford meant. He looked up too late to see Ford's pensive stare focused on him. Feeling the significance of the moment they both leaned in, not willing to let this slip by any longer.
Clank
Clumsily they crashed into each other, knocking their glasses loose, laughing through it. They pawed at each other with veracious hunger for this unspoken truth finally made its way to their mouths. They briefly pulled apart coming up for air, their lips like crashing air, shaking and in disbelief as they realized what was happening.
The air suddenly became ice cold, the wind blew ferociously as the purple night drained of color and the world around him came to a stop. Fiddleford frozen in place like a statue, Ford dropped him from his embrace. His heart began pounding as he tried to get away.
"Honey, I'm Home!" Boomed the voice of Bill, who towered above them, an unreadable gaze boring down on the scene below him.
