ALFG 164

#07: SO GOOD RIGHT NOW by FALL OUT BOY

They have a visitor in the morning.

The First Guardian is an imposing figure standing in the middle of the living room. Dirk spots him on his way towards the stairs. How long he’s been there, Dirk doesn’t know.

The man’s radiation green eyes slide over to him and narrow. Faint green sparks coil around his fingertips. Dirk wisely does not move, but the Guardian does not do anything else. Instead he just looks straight ahead, bored. He’s waiting, Dirk realizes.

So Dirk goes up to the third floor and knocks on Three’s door. The god tiredly cracks it open, a single red eye peeking through the mess of his dark hair.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Your First Guardian is here.”

Three’s eye widens. He opens the door the rest of the way, body language going from exhausted to alert, marching down the hall. Dirk follows after him, and when they reach the top of the stairs, both of them stop.

“Are we just openly inviting destruction in our front door, now?” the Guardian asks. Though he says it softly, the sound somehow still carries.

“They’re not doing anything,” Three says, voice gravelly from having just woken up. “They’re just on Kisaragi.”

“One of them was in the living world for a time. I should string Seven up by his nerves. Maybe that would make him remember his duties.”

A wave of something smashes against the guardian. Dirk can tell because the air around him heats and warps, and a second later, there are scorch marks on the marble tile and the couches around him. The man, of course, is unmoved, and there’s not a single part of him that’s burned. He just raises an eyebrow at Three, unimpressed.

“Paltry.” He clicks his tongue. “For the Sun.”

“Would you like for me to get serious?” Three asks, and the tiles around the Guardian start to blacken and fucking melt. The edges of the man’s white shoes begin to smoke.

“Do better, Three.” The Guardian glances up at him and Three slams into the wall behind him, the concrete cracking under the force of the throw. The break in concentration lifts the heat around the Guardian.

Dirk is about to draw his sword when a soft voice cuts through the fight, “Can we not make a mess of my house, please?”

One rubs the sleep out of their eyes as they walk down the hallway, approaching the stairs; Hal is following after them. The shadows around both of them grow and snake down the carpet, over to the railing, and spill like oil to the ground floor. It crawls over and pools around the First Guardian.

“Please don’t attack my little brother,” One says, and though it’s framed as a request, there’s an edge to their voice.

The Guardian turns his nose up and rolls his eyes. Three drops from the wall, wheezing with a broken sternum and a cracked spine.

Dirk kneels beside him and helps him sit as his bones crack back into place. Three’s drawing in his breaths painfully; Dirk makes him lean back on the wall with his legs stretched out so his diaphragm isn’t constricted while he heals. Three had mentioned being hit with a ruler over terrible table etiquette before, but being slammed into a wall seemed a little too far – though then again, the Guardian had thrown him into the ocean when he found Three and Dirk using magic near a tear in space. Maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised.

“What do you want?” One asks somewhere behind Dirk. He glances over to find them leaning on the railing, addressing the man below. “If it’s about Hal being here, Three was literally dying.”

“And his continued presence?”

“There’s already a tear in the universe, why not?” One shrugs. “I’m working on safe travel between worlds, anyway. This could be good for research.”

The coffee table below gets telekinetically thrown at One. They don’t even move, because Hal’s already summoned Electric Love to slice it in half before it hits them. Unlike Dirk’s version of EL, the Stand’s sword is black, and the second it makes contact with the wood of the table, it rots and burns through it, leaving nothing but ash.

“I don’t care about your trysts with people from other universes. There are five billion lives under your care, more if you count the dead. If you cannot choose between your duty or your personal life, then leave.”

One flinches.

“This world can exist without its god, but it cannot exist with liabilities hanging onto them.”

Dirk hears crackling below, and then there’s a flash of green as the Guardian leaves. One sighs and slumps against the railing. Hal pats their shoulder, and they put a hand over his.

Dirk gets the Guardian’s concern, he really does. This universe is more than just its gods and their lives, it’s literally populated with so many people who are just trying to exist from day to day. Their First Guardian is doing exactly his job, guarding their universe.

But does he have to be so violent?

One sighs. “Eh. He’ll get over it,” they say, brushing their long hair away from their face. “I’ll figure interdimensional travel out and then he’ll stop being pissy about it.”

Speaking of, Dirk also needs to look into that too, especially if he’ll need it to find an afterlife. Or in case they might need to leave the new Earth he and his friends had fallen into ad return back to their game – what the hell was there even to return to? Godhood? Fuck if he’s going to keep his wits about him when the responsibility seems to strip you of freedom, when Hal’s mere presence sends a First Guardian into a (justified) tantrum because One invited him over.

“You intact?” he asks Three.

The god tentatively stretches his fingers and wiggles his toes. “I think so.”

Dirk helps him up. He staggers slightly, but he doesn’t fall over.

“You okay, Three?” One asks. When Three nods, they smile, obviously relieved. “Great – let’s go wake Seven up for breakfast. I just remembered something that’s going to piss M off so bad.”

Three winces, and then, “What?”

One grins. “There’s a really popular hot springs place south this side of Kisaragi.”

#

Dirk has never been to a hot spring, but this shit happens all the time in anime, right? Not that that’s the only reason he wordlessly packs his shit to go, absolutely not, but it would be an interesting experience. Three said to do things that he’s always wanted to but never had the chance to, so he’s doing it now. He grew up in the apocalypse where there was no distinction between bodies of water and now he gets to see a fucking hot spring, with an inn. There are stairs to climb and trees to see and it’s in the mountains and everything.

“You can’t even get in the hot springs, right?” Dirk asks Hal while all six of them make their way to the reception desk (seven counting the cat, because obviously Three wasn’t going to leave him alone in the house by himself, and what are the resort owners going to do, say no to a fucking god?).

“No, it’s more because One’s petty as shit,” Hal says. “If the First Guardian says I’m not allowed on Kisaragi, they’ll just bring me to more places.”

“And let the rest of us third-, fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-wheel your date?”

Hal lifts his shades just to reveal black-sclera’d eyes and wink. Dirk mentally cringes and physically draws away.

“It’s about plausible deniability,” Hal says.

“I’m sure it is.”

One and Seven talk to the receptionist to book them their rooms while Three grabs one of the pamphlets to show to Damara. Dirk and Hal are left standing behind all of them, waiting.

“You two are dating?” Dirk asks.

“…hard to date when you’re universes away, but I suppose we are?” Hal says. “Obviously we can’t go places all the time or talk, but.”

“They’re working on it.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Dirk crosses his arms. “All versions of this kid are just terminally ill about you, huh.”

Hal lets out a surprised laugh that he immediately muffles with his hand; when One and Seven look over at him, he waves their concern away. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asks once he’s calmed.

“My version of Sapphrel Angeles chopped off their soul to keep my version of Hal safe,” Dirk says. “And trapped me in a deal that got me stuck here in the first place.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what One was talking about when they said you were trapped in a Dead Man’s Deal.” Hal nods. “That’s touching to hear, that even in another universe, we know each other. I suppose in your version we’re dating?”

Dirk falls silent. When he takes too long to answer, Hal turns to him.

“No,” Dirk says carefully. “When I was pulled here, they were dying. I don’t know if they’re dead right now and if they are, their soul is slowly decaying.”

Hal stiffens. Dirk doesn’t need to see behind his shades to know his eyes are wide. His hands clench slowly, and he turns towards One, and then back to Dirk.

“And…your version of me?” he asks.

“I don’t know where he is right now, but last I knew, they were moving away to safety together. I just don’t know if Angeles is alive or if their ghost is out there withering away.”

Pink electricity runs up one of Hal’s wrists. Dirk can hear the machinery of his artillery-heavy arms whirring. Slowly, they calm down and go quiet.

“I see,” he says. “That’s why you asked Three if soul-sharing can fix that decay.”

Dirk raises an eyebrow. “You could hear that.”

Hal snorts. “I’m a robot, I’ve got better hearing than humans,” he says. “You planning on saving that little bastard from their self-sacrificial bullshit?”

“Ican’t do it, we barely know each other,” Dirk says. “But hopefully Hal listens to me.”

“Just…apologize like you promised to,” Hal says. “And maybe lead with the fact that you know how to save his version of One.”

Dirk nods. Hopefully having that piece of knowledge would distract Hal from being too mad if he doesn’t accept Dirk’s apology.

#

It’s the off-season for hot springs with the thawing weather, so there’s barely anyone in the resort with them. Dirk reads about the various pools on the pamphlet until he realizes he actually has to get in with other people if he’s going to use the hot springs – after which he locks himself up in the inn with Hal, who laughs at him until his voice box starts wheezing static. He’s had plenty of embarrassing moments on Kisaragi, he’s not setting himself up for another.

“You can get in the pool when no one’s using it,” Hal tells him.

He burns through the day by walking around the rest of the resort instead. The part of Kisaragi he’s mostly been to are the cities, and minus the ice sheets, he hasn’t had time to check out most of its natural wonders. So, he walks through the forests with a map in hand, wandering around until evening; once the moon rises, he follows the lamps around the area to find his way back to the inn.

The others are back when he returns, wrapped in bathrobes over their clothes. Someone’s already ordered food when he gets to the inn, they beckon him over.

“Where have you been?” Three asks.

“Took a walk,” Dirk says, sitting down beside him as he scoots over.

Dinner is lively affair; even Damara seems to be more relaxed after having some time to wind down. Dirk silently listens to everyone swapping stories and grabs the dark red drink set down in front of him, taking a sip before cringing at the taste.

“Okay,” he says. “What the hell is that?”

“…I forgot you’ve probably never had alcohol,” Three says. “Sorry, I should have told you. I think One snuck wine in somehow.”

Dirk pushes the glass away. He’d thought the flush on Three’s cheeks had been from the heat, guy was actually buzzed. The others don’t have any qualms about the alcohol, though; Seven says something to Damara when she shows him the glass, probably to explain, and she downs it in one go, to his surprise.

Two hours later, One is leaning on Hal’s side, only slightly tipsy even when Dirk’s pretty sure they drank three bottles alone. Damara is passed out on the table. Seven is babbling about something and One snickers at it. Three hasn’t drank much, instead just watching his siblings be stupid.

“I think you should have M officiate,” Seven suggests. “He would be…so fucking pissed off.”

“He would try to kill me.” One cackles. “But you know what, that’s a great idea actually. Revenge for him being so pissy about everything.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d marry you,” Hal says; he makes no move to shove One off, and he’s looking down at them with obvious fondness, an elbow propped up on the table and his cheek leaned on one palm.

“We can do it for taxes.”

“Taxes – you’re a fucking god.”

One snickers. He pinches their cheek, to their dismay.

“Well, if not – if not that,” Seven says, though his words are slurring, “Think about fucking funny it would be if you’re the first one from your friends to land someone.”

“Actually, I’m not, Dirk dated Jake.”

Several pairs of eyes flit over to Dirk at that, and he tries his best to hold very, very still, like prey animal trying not to be seen by a bunch of drunk, really powerful, gods. He already said he wasn’t going to be embarrassing, he’s not saying a single fucking word.

Damara shifts from her nap to look at him. Oh, she wasn’t asleep, the little shit.

“They’re still not back together?” Seven asks.

Hal shrugs. “They’re on good terms, but Jake avoids the topic of anything romantic with anyone entirely, so. Makes that a little awkward,” he says. “And Dirk also just…doesn’t talk about it.”

Seven hums and slumps over the table. Damara sits up, eager for the gossip. Dirk meanwhile scoots back until he’s leaning against the wall and away from the table; he’s not getting involved in a conversation about an alt-universe-him’s romantic fumbles. If it’s anything like his relationship, he’s pretty sure he can piece things together anyway – Jake had said there was something he wanted to admit but never got to it, before he suggested a compromise when everyone went trickster mode. Dirk knows he was a little pushy when he asked him out. Jake’s always had a problem with being a yes-man even when he’s uncomfortable.

“So, he’s also just a loser in your universe?” Damara asks. Dirk shoots her the most exasperated look from behind his shades, not that she notices or sees.

“I do try to talk to him about it sometimes, which is…hilarious,” Hal says. “But I’m not exactly someone he listens to, and I’m also just bad at advice.”

Seven forces himself, with some drunken difficulty, to turn to where Three is minding his own business like the good friend he is. Keeping quiet instead of joining roasting an alternate version of Dirk. “Broooooooooother,” Seven manages to get out. “You got any advice, you’re the psyop shrink.”

“I’m not a psyop shrink,” Three says, playing with the remaining bit of wine in his glass by shaking it around. “Just ‘cause dad made me gaslight people.”

Seven snickers.

“You can’t help someone who isn’t willing to be helped. But also, consider, this involves two people. It’s just about your Dirk, it’s about your Jake too. If even one of them is uncomfortable, I don’t think you should really force it,” Three says. “But, if both parties want to get together sincerely, an apology and an agreement to communicate is in order.”

Three’s red eyes slide over to where Dirk is, to his horror. What the fuck. What the fuck is his fake shrink saying. Romantic advice. Really? This doesn’t even concern him specifically.

“Explain what made things fall apart in the first place, what they can do to improve from here on out, and know that there will have to be compromise. People don’t come out readily packaged for a relationship, there will be edges you’ll have to maneuver around, you just have to be willing to maneuver around it,” Three says, still looking at Dirk like he’s discreetly offering advice. Oh god. “When the honeymoon phase has worn off, it will take work. You gotta be willing to talk about the ugly stuff too, it’s not always going to be whirlwind romance.”

“God, you’re such afake therapist,” Seven says. He drops off the edge of the table when Three raises his glass in a mock-threat to throw it at him.

“You are so lucky you don’t fall in love, I’d be dragging the shit out of you if you fumbled anything.”

Seven throws him a peace sign from the floor.

“You should listen to your roommate, Strider,” Damara says and Dirk hates her so fucking much for calling attention to him. What is her damage, what the hell did he ever do to her? “For when you get back to Earth. Who knows, maybe your ex ended up there too like everyone seems to have anyway.”

He never even mentioned his relationship around her. He half wishes she was wasted enough to not put two and two together from Hal mentioning a version of him.

“You know what you should do.” Seven hauls himself back up to sitting position. “You should get one of those cheap golden heart lockets that you can put a photo in. And when you return, act like you lost your husband in a war. When someone asks about the locket, don’t elaborate, and then leave it somewhere on purpose for someone nosy to find. And then when they open it up, it’s just a photo of Three’s shitty little cat.”

“He’s not shitty,” Three says defensively, frowning. “He’s just orange.”

“And he did not get the braincell in the orange cat lottery.”

“Speaking of returning to Earth,” Dirk starts in an attempt to get a handle on the conversation before it can embarrass him further even when it’s not about him. “How close are you to figuring out interdimensional travel, One?”

“Travelling itself? Not very much. Assimilation, though? It’s better when they’re dead because apparently, ghosts just have a transitive property that allows them to pass on from place to place,” they say.

That’s…something.

“What are you thinking?” One asks.

Might as well ask. If anyone’s gonna know, it’s the god of the dead.

“My version of you,” Dirk says. “Sapphrel Angeles – they might be dead. I need to find their ghost to stop them from being erased from reality because they mauled their own soul.”

Hal tenses again at his mention of that, looking down towards One. The god hums and looks thoughtful for a moment, their eyes glowing the faintest of blues.

“Little Saph, I remember them,” they say. “The noisiest memories. Has a lot of nightmares about car crashes. I know what they’re doing.”

Huh. “Do you know how to get to them?”

“Well.” One clicks their tongue. “Just like how you and your splinters kind of have a drift thing going on, we’re sort of…our Heirdom makes Paradox Space consider us as one person, as insulting as it is. We get a lot of meld, it’s like our own version of drift. I’m a godtier, so I get a lot of information from doom radio over here.” They tap their temple. “But – you know. We might not be the same people, but we have our loyalties.”

“They’re dying twice,” Dirk says.

“It was their choice,” One says.

“One,” Hal says, softly. One tenses. Slowly, they look up at him, and he holds their stare.

They sigh. “They’re the closest they’ll get to being a god with the decay around your universe,” they say. “What do you do to call for a god?”

Dirk frowns slightly, unnoticeable to everyone else. “Pray?”

One grins and shrugs.

“And to fix their soul?”

“You call a god through prayer and you give them things through…?”

It clicks. “Sacrifice.”

“Got it in one.” One throws him a finger gun. “The problem is going to be setting up the altar. Angeles and I have the same classpect, but people with the same classpect can manifest wildly different powers. I have no idea what their altar would consist of. I know you need a name; the real one that’s written on their soul.”

“The real one they identify by,” Hal translates helpfully.

Another thing clicks in Dirk’s head. That’s why the gods of Kisaragi go by numbers, because there’s no fucking way their names are like. That’s why Three told him to call him Three instead of something that is, in his words, worse. Names can be power, and with something like the Heart and Blood aspects existing, they can be liabilities.

“How do you figure out what makes an altar?” Dirk asks.

The whole table quiets. Damara looks around curiously.

Something not to be discussed so easily, then. They are still in a public place, after all, even if they’re in their own suite in the inn. Three thankfully catches his eye briefly, so at least Dirk knows he’s getting answers.

They all clean up and, with the exception of Dirk, turn in for the night. He goes to fetch his things so he can take his turn at the hot springs, and Three tells him to drop by so they can talk about the altar thing when he’s done. He stays in the hot water for hours until his skin prunes, nearly falling asleep before he remembers he shouldn’t stay here too late if he’s going to talk to Three while he’s still up.

Dirk’s hair is still wet by the time he knocks on the god’s door, hoping he’s not already asleep. It opens, though Three yawns.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks.

“Yeah, it was fine,” Dirk says. It was great. Better than a hot shower. “About the…?”

Three nods and lets him in, closing the door behind him. He keeps his voice down even when they’re alone. “An altar is very dangerous knowledge to just give out and is deeply, deeply personal, so don’t go telling just about anyone this. This can be used to…bind us,” he says. “You’re a god, you can get caught up in it too. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Dirk says, “So how do you figure out how to make it?”

“You need a god’s real name,” Three says, “And at least three things. It’s a symbolic thing. Some altars are more elaborate, of course, but if you’re working bare bones, you need at least three very important things connected to the person you’re trying to contact. Something of the body, of the soul, and of the mind. The physical, the id, and the ego.”

“Meaning?”

Three pauses. “Something important to them that’s physical, like…” He frowns as he tries to word it simply. “Like a physical place. If they have an attachment to their house, or something. Or if they have a very important shirt or a pair of shoes. Something that is of the physical plane.”

Okay, he can work with that. “And of the soul, you mean a literal part of their soul?”

“No, Heart magic usually deals with desire or passion. That’s why I said the id, something desired and driven by instinct. You can either somehow pluck a wish or splinter off that facet of someone, or you can find something that symbolizes it. Like a childhood toy that represents wanting to go home but never being able to.” Three shrugs, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Work with concepts.”

Dirk nods and leans back against the door, arms crossed. “And for the ego, something that appeals to rationality?”

“The part of them that interacts with the external, like something related to how they project to the world.” Three pauses again, then, “You’re basically trying to find someone’s astrology.”

Dirk looks at him tiredly, not that he’d know. Wait, no, he probably would, so Dirk tries to think as much exasperatedness as he can muster at him. “Sun, Moon, Rising?”

“Very loosely.” Three makes a so-and-so gesture. Dirk grunts out an affirmative, and after a moment, they fall into silence. Three breaks it, after a few minutes. “…are you doing this for Hal?”

Dirk hesitates. He crosses his arms and lets out a sigh. “Partially,” he says. “I think it would be easier for me to hold up my end of the deal and help him with one of his friends dying when, you know, they’re not dead. And – ”

He sneezes. Ah, son of a bitch, this is what he gets for hurrying here with his hair still wet.

Warmth washes over him.

“Your hair’s still damp.” Three heads to the bathroom and comes back with a towel. “You could have at least dried your hair off first, you’ll get sick.”

He walks over and starts gently toweling Dirk’s hair, before both of them freeze.

“…I’m used to doing this for my younger siblings,” Three says.

“It’s fine,” Dirk bites out because he is not embarrassing himself. He can tough his way out through a little blunder.

“…okay.” The towel is pleasantly warm courtesy of a god with fire powers, and it carefully works through locks of his hair. Dirk keeps his eyes down. “What’s the other reason?”

He takes a moment to remember what they were talking about.

“Well, someone’s dying,” Dirk says. “That’s an easy one.”

“Is there anything else?”

Dirk takes a moment. "He was right there when I wanted someone to listen," he says. "He tried, at least. To talk to me. And I just never…"

He trails off. Three is perceptive enough to slow down wringing the moisture from his hair, instead kneading into his scalp so he relaxes.

"So you're reviving a dear friend of his?"

"Maybe he'll listen to me."

Three hums. "Sometimes people we want to forgive us won't. They have their own reasons and whole separate lives; it is up to you to change, it's up to them whether they forgive you."

"Mm."

"No matter how big the gesture," Three emphasizes. "You have to be ready for that when it happens."

"I will be," Dirk says, softly. He tries to say something else and then stops.

"What?" Three prompts.

"I'm just really hoping he does. Not because I'm…not because I want him to, it just…feels like something to do? As if I have to do it, because I fucked up and now I have to fix it," Dirk says. "I don't know if I'm really doing it from a place of sincerity."

"It happens. Sincerity doesn't come easily to some people, and that's fine. What matters is you follow up what you seek out to do. You apologize and never repeat your behavior again," Three says. "The fact that you're even considering it is a good place to start. You'll work up to it. If you never get to that depth of emotion, that's fine too, as long as you're not hurting anyone or yourself."

"Mm," Dirk grunts out, eyes closing from how sleepy the warmth is making him. But he's listening.

"I'm glad you're trying to connect with Hal," Three says. "It'd be good for both of you."

"We'll see," Dirk says. "It'll be one thing I get right if I pull it off somehow."

"Apologize to your friends too, then. They love you, you know. I know you care about them too, don't let that slip through your fingers just because you can't find the courage to face them. Talk to them." Three drapes the warm towel over his head. His hair's mostly dry now. "You'll do great. It'll be fine."

"And if it's not?"

"That's unfortunately just how life goes. Some friendships don't last forever," Three says. "But I think they'll stick by you, Dirk."

He smiles briefly, encouraging. Dirk peers up at him hesitantly, though the action can't be seen with his glasses in the way.

"Thanks," he says.

"Of course." Three steps back. "It's late, you should go to bed."

"Yeah." Dirk pulls the towel down over his face as he turns away. Better to keep it there until he gets to the hallway. "Night, Three."