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Wiley stood in the rubble of what once was the Starlight Theater. Seat stuffing, metal, wood, bricks, rebar, every ounce of what once was the building was now a pile of nothing. Under normal circumstances, he’d be upset. After all this is their God’s home, His place of worship, but today, it was a means to an end.
They walked forward, ignoring most of the bodies laying around and focused his attention on the most important body here. He came to a stop next to the empty corpse of Paul Matthews and crouched low to the ground. His body was in complete disarray, clothes were tattered, skin was melted, and bones were broken at odd angles. None of that was important, however.
Wiley grabbed his cold chin and pointed his face at theirs. Inside his eyes, the faintest blue light was forming and slowly growing. Wiley grinned. As the light grew, all of the man’s injuries were healing. His skin was growing back, his bones snapped into place with loud cracks, cuts were sealing up. He started shifting and blinking slowly.
They ran his hand through his hair as life re-entered Paul’s body. He leaned into the touch, grateful for some sense of comfort. His eyes landed on Wiley’s face and he weakly reached out for them. He obliged the obvious intent and propped him up, throwing his face into their shoulder. Wiley continued running a hand through his hair. Paul weakly grabbed Wiley, attempting to cling onto him for dear life.
“Hurts.” Paul whined out into their ear, voice raspy and weak. He whispered a gentle hush as a response. Tears started falling from Paul’s eyes, soaking Wiley’s jacket. Wiley still remembers their own time getting rebuilt. Each atom of their body was taken apart and stitched back together a million times over, the Lords never resting until every single part of his body was in its perfect spot. It was a slow process that took both years and a second, all at once. It worked out in the end and now, they’re perfect, same as the man in his arms.
“If ya stop fightin’, it’ll hurt less.” Wiley whispered. Paul whined out what was clearly a protest and curled further into them, crying even more. “What’s even the point in fightin’ it anymore?” They asked, still holding him. “Ya already lost, what’s the point in trying to hold on?”
“Hurt….others…” He rasped out. Wiley tutted into his ear as if disappointed in him for thinking that. “No, it won’t. Do you feel that? In your heart?” He questioned. Wiley could feel his face twist in thought against his jacket. They paused his hand and just held his head. “That unending, wonderful joy? Never felt it ‘fore in your life but now it’s all you can feel?” His voice shook with pure euphoria and their eyes closed, remembering the first time they ever heard His song. Their life was never the same.
“If you embrace It,” Wiley continued, “Then you’ll be happy for once in your life and everyone else’ll be too.” Paul let out a whimper as the crying gave him a smell speck of energy. “Saw… it… can’t give in.”
“If you saw Him, then you know you can’t win.” Wiley pointed out. Paul froze at their words before giving the world’s smallest nod. His mind flashed to what he had seen a moment ago. All those limbs melting into one another and splitting apart, the countless faces merging into one another, creating a horrible abomination. It was larger than the planet, no, the planet was a miniscule speck compared to Him. Trying to fight It was like trying to fight the sun. “Yes… you…’re… right.”
They felt his body untense and loosen and Wiley grinned yet again. He went entirely limp, head lolling and eyes closed in rest. Wiley gave a deep chuckle and patted Paul’s cheek. “Someone’s all tuckered out.”
His head shot up and they blew out a harsh whistle at the reforming hive members surrounding him. Their unified sense of attention focused on him. “Find a nice place for our new prophet to stay.” He ordered. They were going to do that anyway but they still did as they were told.
Paul came to on a random bed in a room that was both his and not his at the same time. Inside his mind, he remembered living in this bedroom. He remembered staying up late to study and having sleepovers here as a child and he knows each nook and cranny of this random person’s bedroom as if it were his own. In a way, it was.
Pulling his mind away from his, or more accurately someone else’s, thoughts, Paul was hit with a sudden wave of intense pain. None of it was physical, he can’t feel physical pain anymore. Instead, his mind was flooded with all the memories and emotions and thoughts of every single person in town. Plus, he still hadn’t quite fully understood what he saw when he died. His mind was growing, rapidly expanding, just to try to begin to understand all of the information spilling into him at every moment. He wanted to throw his hands up to his head and scream but he couldn’t.
Unfortunately, his mind wasn’t the only thing that hurt. It felt like someone tore apart each individual cell in his body and Something was in the middle of putting it back together. He knows who was doing it and why it was necessary but it still hurts nonetheless. No muscle in him had the strength to move so he resigned to simply laying there in agony.
He stared up at the ceiling, eyes blurring up at the off white and waiting for the constant pain to end. Surprise tapped him when the face of a person suddenly slid into view. They grinned down at him with a menacing stare. Their eyes danced over Paul’s body and said, “Hello, naughty list,” as he did so.
“How ya doin’ there, Paul?” He stared at them, intrigued. He’s never seen this person before, though they felt familiar, and he could tell they weren’t a part of the Hive. So, how did they know him? Nonetheless, Paul was still unable to speak so he simply laid there. The man placed a finger on Paul’s shoulder and dragged that finger along his arm. Because the sleeve on that side was long gone, Paul felt his strangely sharp nail gently sting his skin, somehow. As it dragged, the pain in that arm vanished, filling Paul with relief.
“Seems like someone’s still growin’ back.” Paul raised his hand easily and started stretching it out. The rest of his body was still quite weak, however. He placed the hand down on his chest and continued staring at the man. Something in him knew who this person was and he just couldn’t place it. A memory of both his own and other’s flashed inside his mind and a name came with it. “ Wilbur.”
“ No.” That other mind belonging to one who once knew them corrected. “ Not Wilbur. Wiley. ” He understood the distinction immediately, perfectly, even though John had different thoughts about it. In his mind, Wilbur was dead, had been for years, replaced by the person before him. But Paul saw it differently. Wiley was both Wilbur and so much more. He had their old form’s mind and his new form’s knowledge.
Wiley was an accumulation of all of the strong parts of Wilbur and the Lords’ power. To call Wiley Wilbur would be to call a car, a hunk of metal or a sculpture, a piece of rock. Paul understood this perfectly because that is what he is now too. He is no longer merely Paul, he is now the Head, the device to which connects his own Lord to the world.
As Paul received this forbidden knowledge into his mind, information from his Lord whispering into his ear, he realized that he was not so different from Wiley. It was now Paul noticed that Wiley had been sitting on the bed and holding his head for the past while. Both of their hands were plastered on the sides of his face and he was muttering something under their breath that Paul couldn’t make out.
His eyes were squeezed shut and they hadn’t seemed to notice that Paul noticed. The more they uttered, the more the pain faded. By now, he could move both of his arms and legs and now his face was starting to feel better. He used this new strength to smile at them, grateful at the comfort he offered.
They suddenly paused his muttering and opened his eyes to stare at Paul. His eyes were shimmering bright green. While Paul’s favorite color was blue, he had to admit that their eyes certainly gave that opinion a run for its money. He smirked down at him and Paul thinks his quiet heart beat again for a brief moment. His face turned vivid blue as Wiley shifted their hands to his neck.
Their fingers lightly grazed his skin as he did this. Paul stared up at him in excitement. Before another thought could even begin to be formed, Wiley bent over and kissed him. All the pain vanished from Paul in an instant but he didn’t even mildly care about that anymore. He wrapped an arm around Wiley’s back and a hand on his slicked back hair. Paul pulled him closer and Wiley let him do so.
Wiley’s hands drifted to Paul’s waist and his mind drifted to his thoughts as his body continued. When he first found Paul in the theater and he was a mess in every sense, mind melting and body destroyed, they understood him perfectly. They understood that pain and panic and mania because he too knew it, he knew it like the back of his hand. He felt as Paul realized on his own how similar they were and Wiley had to agree.
Once he sensed that Paul liked him, they saw no reason to not act on it. They pulled their mouths apart and stared at each other, hands still wrapped around the other’s body. Paul’s body was immensely cold due to the fact that his blood was no longer warm, it neither pumped nor spread heat because neither were required for him to live. Wiley was the exact same way and they couldn’t help but smile once he realized this.
Paul smiled upon seeing Wiley smile, seeing his cheeks crease and eyes stare into Paul’s soul hungrily. “Whatcha smiling for?” Paul asked, coyly whispering. “We’re a lot alike, ain’t we?” Wiley asked. Paul shrugged. “I like to think it’s fate.” Wiley let out a harsh scoff, brushing past Paul’s face.
Paul tilted his head in adorable confusion. “What?” He asked. “Fate.” They replied. “Such a fancy word for chance.” He raised a hand to rub the side of Paul’s head and watched as he leaned into the caress. “Perhaps They made it happen.” Wiley thought out loud. As he said it, he felt that that was the real answer, no, he knew it.
Paul chuckled. “God wanted to watch me kiss you?” He asked sarcastically. Wiley mentally scoffed at how clearly Paul was new to this life he was now a part of. He’ll learn soon enough, that's what Wiley's here for. “What’s a show without a love interest?” Wiley replied. Normally, Paul had one. A crabby barista, a spitfire who’d never take anyone’s shit, a woman who wanted to see the whole world and was pretty much the exact opposite of Paul. It’s why they liked each other.
This time, however, Emma Perkins got into an accident while backpacking in Guatemala and died a few years back, before she ever had a chance to return to the town she hated so dearly. It’s happened quite a few times, actually. That woman is very reckless, Wiley’s always liked that. They’d meet every now and then, though it’s far from common. Sometimes, in fact, she’s been Pokotho’s prophet. But that’s a very interesting story for a different day.
This exact situation, interestingly, has not quite happened before. Paul receiving his apotheosis with no Emma in sight? Normally, that’d be quite the impossibility but when you have nothing but time, everything happens eventually.
Paul hummed thoughtfully, perfectly in tune with the AC churning in the window. “You’re right.” He let go of Wiley and slid off the bed, gracefully landing on his feet. Wiley sat up as Paul held out his hand, waiting for Wiley to grab it. They obliged and let him lift them to his feet. Both of them pulled each other close.
Paul’s hands took their places on their waist and Wiley put his hands on his sides. A song started playing in Paul’s head and Wiley could hear it too, albeit quieter. “ The universe is infinite, ” He sang softly. “ And it’s definite, there’s an alternate reality, where it’s only you and me .”
Paul started leading a simple two-step dance that Wiley followed. The two grew content with dancing together to the beautiful song ringing out and holding each other. Wiley hadn’t done something romantic in years, not since his awful breakup in ‘05, and Paul really made him miss it. Normally, they hate bearing any part of himself to anyone but Paul was so like him that it just felt like he was being open with themself.
For Paul, he’d felt alone for years, barely any friends who actually know him and no family to speak of. Wiley helped lead him into the Hive, gave him a place in this world. The intimate company too was certainly not something to scoff at. To put it simply, the two just liked each other. They felt vulnerable yet safe, understood, and loved. Whether or not they actually were, who can say?
The two continued dancing until time lost meaning and God Himself demanded that they must part.