The Half of It

Chapter Four

"What do you mean you can't see co-"

The door on Lance's room produced a screeching sound as it cautiously opened, allowing a tiny fuzz-head to peek their head behind the door frame. Lance and the demon went rigid and motionless, gazes locked on the small person who eyed them with intense reciprocal horror.

"Holy shit-"

"-Shhhh!'' Lance hushed them by frantically waving his hand. 

Pidge lingered behind the door's frame a tad bit longer, uncertain whether they should approach the scandalous scene that was too surprising even for them. They had an awful bed hair that reminded Lance of a ruffled hank and their large-framed glasses hung low on their nose with a tacky green shirt that slipped off of their left shoulder loosely. The demon observed the silent exchange of their facial expressions with passive interest. 

"Whatever you do, please don't shout." Lance mouthed something between the hiss and the whisper, but Pidge hesitated. The Mocha boy picked himself up as silently as he could, and it appeared that his best friend seemed to be afraid of their original idea. Lance slowly dusted himself off.

Pidge looked behind themselves, finding Hunk fully sprawled over the lazy-bag with his arms folded across his chests while he was snoring as if they were having an orchestra in Lance's bedroom. They cautiously closed the door behind themselves, and they were glad that Hunk wasn't one of the easy sleepers. 

As they approached Lance and the demon, they felt as if the entire world inside of their head got dismantled. They trusted their brain way too much to call it a hallucination or aftermath of sleepwalking, but their curiosity always seemed to get the better of them as they were in the demon's personal space before they could even think it through.

They reached out and touched the demon's arm. 

"It's corporeal," Pidge concluded with a weary tone. 

Demon slapped their hand away, grimacing. "Hands off, dirty little human!"

Pidge winced at the demon's hostile outburst, but the entire event entertained their fast-working whiz brain to the point of insanity. They noticed the chain that hung low between the boys, glowing and fading, back and forth. 

"Pidge, we need to figure out how to break this thing." Lance raised his arm in the air, allowing the chain to swing and fall in a long slope down in front of his friend's face. Pidge traced the beginning of the chain that was on Lance's arm to where it ended on the demon's, their face stern and concentrated. Lance knew that they were in the process of rummaging through the endless shelves full of mental folders in their mind palace, so maybe, there was hope.

"Hmm..." They thoughtfully rubbed their chin, for a moment squinting their eyes at the chain as if it was hurting them to stare at it for too long. "I think I know a person who can help with this." Pidge suddenly announced. 

Demon cocked his eyebrow suspiciously at them while Lance's face was beaming, and Pidge felt like no matter what they said at that point, Lance would desperately cling to it. Not like he had any choice but to, Pidge thought.

"Who is it, Pidge?" Lance urged.

"Remember the odd ginger-bearded men who did the tarot spread last year for Hunk on the summer festival?" Pidge hesitantly probed.