Ian was positioned, vulnerable and bare against dark sheets, lying on his stomach. Yet strangely, Ian didn’t feel the repulsive fear that followed the touch of other Espers, hands against his skin leaving him feeling sticky and filthy.

He felt fear, without a doubt, but it was more primitive, the settling boil in his stomach that made his skin prickle.

A hand traced against his back as if measuring the expanse of empty space. His senses flared, in-tuned with the absence of sight. A drop sounded lightly, and the rustle of fabric before something soft and cold brushed against his skin.

He shuddered, adapting quickly and stilling. The brush continued to draw powerful, confident strokes against the curvatures of his back muscles. The dim light flickered in the corner of the room, casting shadows against the two in silence.

“I’ll ask you once more, Guide,” mused the Esper with a touch of amusement, as if prompting rejection. “Will you consent to my aid?”

Ian’s back arched lightly as the cold paint dipped into the crevice of his shoulder blades. “Didn’t I already ask?”

“I need to hear it out loud. I don’t like uncertain deals.”

Ian didn’t understand as the weight against his back lifted, and the Esper seemed to admire his work thoughtfully. Then, the large hand splayed against his back, pressing firmly by the divot above his hips.

The lines where the brush had touched prickled, lightly at first, before a searing pain bloomed against his skin and he gasped, agony splintering his vision.

“What the hell are you doing?” seethed the Guide.

“No questions,” said the Esper simply. “At least, I wouldn’t expect an answer.”

The Esper held him still, pushing his large body down against the bed with one hand, dismissing his writhing.

“You agreed,” the Esper reminded.

Ian gritted his teeth and said nothing, bending his head and groaning into the pillow. They remained there for what felt like decades, until the pain faded into something dull and ancient, like a pulsing memory lingering at the back of his mind.

He remained limp and obedient as a new shirt was carefully slipped over his body, and those cold hands touched him minimally.

As if he wasn’t worth touching, yet. But a mere doll to dress up.

Once the Esper finished, he was led out of the apartment or room–he heard the door locked, and his senses leaned into the warmth of the man’s body.

The Esper’s energy licked the edges of his skin, diving in and out as they sought relief. Ian didn’t give it—the previous night’s guiding had exhausted most of his energy, and there was still a bottomless pool of chaos simmering within that strange man.

[Vehicle 38 is now approaching. Please remain standing behind the yellow lines.]

Ian finally spoke.

“Where are we going?”

The Esper held his hand tightly, staring ahead as the train pulled into the station. “I thought you’d ask earlier.”

Ian didn’t move. “You’re usually wrong, aren’t you?”

He wondered if the Esper was smiling, but all he received was the release of their hands. They’d been holding hands for the majority of the day it left Ian feeling lost, his fingers closing around nothing. Instead, the hand pressed on his back, leading him towards the opening doors.

“Then we have something in common. There’s no we.”

Ian stumbled over the edge where the train met, stepping over the small gap. The pressure of his back released, and he spun around with bewilderment. Although he’d expected the unpredictability of the Esper’s movements, he didn’t expect to be abandoned by his golden ticket so quickly.

[Doors are now closing.]

“Run along, F-class. It’s the freedom you’ve spent twenty-six years of your life yearning. I wouldn’t recommend exiting until you reach Zone 5, Station 5-C.”

The doors creaked, slowly closing. Ian stretched out his arm to untie the blindfold, loosening it as half slipped down his face, resting on his nose bridge.

His eyes narrowed. “Twenty-four,” he corrected.

The Esper stood behind the doors, a step away. His pale blue eyes fixed on Ian, reflecting the departing train. The person reflected was a useless guide, a nobody with nothing to offer. A person like that could hardly stand alongside that man, much less use him as a tool.

Before the doors slid together, Ian lifted his chin coldly. Confidence manifested from nothing, coiling in the arrogant jut of his head. “I’ll see you in six months.”

The Esper raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled. He lifted his hand and offered a casual wave as if he had no faith in Ian’s abilities to crawl his way to the top.

[Welcome. The next station is Zone One, Station 1-C. Please remain seated in the case of sudden stops or emergencies.]

Ian remained standing at the door as the Esper’s face disappeared into the distance and the train sped down the dimly lit tunnels, further from his destination.

After the train departed, Victor glanced quietly at his hand that still contained the soothing traces of warmth that eased the turbulence in his body. In fact, the cooling sensation remained wrapped around his chaotic insides, mildly calming the chaos that rattled in his body.

He’d slept with many Guides before, and the sensation was still the same. But none had imprinted on the madness within him, leaving a trace of tranquility in the depths of his soul. A mere touch was all it took.

A touch could be addicting, a drop of calm in a sea of madness. But Victor didn’t have an addictive personality, and he didn’t like tools that could malfunction.

“An F-class,” muttered Victor as he stared into the long emptied tunnels.

What a liar.

If his ranking was faked, then it was possible that the compatibility results in the database were false as well. Judging by the sensation, he thought that the big liar’s affinity shouldn’t be too bad.

He turned around, exiting the train station.

The Guide was a little older than him, worn by the sufferings of the underground facility. His back was broad, and a lean muscularity to the malnourished limbs carried an explosive power.

With some time, he could develop into something far beyond the beautiful and soothing Guides that often escaped the facility.

A Guide that disobeyed the world’s design.

A laugh slipped past the Esper’s lips, cold and detached.

In the end, nothing would matter if that man fell prey to the Rifts or society. He’d left a sheltered feline, wild and ferocious, in an entirely unknown terrain. Whether he had the fortune of surviving or not, it was no longer Victor’s business.

Not for the next six months.

He briefly glanced at his wristband, eyes flickering to the date before he walked away.