Psychological. Horror. Explicit Sex.

“I just want to live—with you, the two of us.”

“Hello?” Quinn called out into the dark.

Had he just inadvertently blinded himself? His stomach twisted violently, and he gripped the grass beneath him, trying to swallow the unease.

“Hey?” Quinn said, projecting his voice. “I need some help.”

Quinn was quickly beginning to cross over from worry into—well, blind panic. How was he going to get home? Or the hospital; rather, that was probably a better option.

“Hey!” Quinn called again, taking a few cautious steps across the hill he’d been sitting on. “Is there anyone out there?”

“Hello?” A woman said, from behind him and further up the hill. “I’m here?”

Quinn almost collapsed in relief at the sound of another person, but the tone in her voice was almost as uncertain as his own.

“I think I just went blind,” Quinn said. “I can’t see anything at all—”

“I can’t see anything either!” The woman said, “Oh my god, what is happening?”

“What?” Quinn said, swallowing. “You too?”

It wasn’t just him?

“Has this happened to everyone?” The woman managed.

Quinn spent a moment trying to understand the ramifications of everyone going blind at once. Did she mean everyone, or just like, everyone here or something.

“Everyone?” Quinn said weakly. “Just the park? Or all of Saltwall?”

“Either?” The woman said, voice shaky. “What if the whole world’s gone blind?”

“I don’t think we have enough evidence to say that,” Quinn said, stumbling.

If it was true, they were entirely screwed. If this effect was staggered out over weeks or months, maybe the world could adjust to something like that, but all in a single day? Everything would come to a screeching halt.

“What’s your name?” The woman said.

“Quinn,” Quinn offered, mind stuck on just how fucked they were. “What’s yours?”

“Maia,” Maia said.

“I don’t even know where to begin with this, Maia,” Quinn said, slowly ascending the hill in her general direction. “I think the best bet is to try and get home or to a hospital—do you have a phone on you?”

“I don’t own one,” Maia said worriedly. “I don’t know my way back either; I’m staying in a hotel.”

Quinn sent a quizzical look in the direction of her voice—she hadn’t forgotten her phone as he had, she just didn’t own one? Who didn’t own a phone?

“I didn’t bring my phone with me,” Quinn admitted, “I live pretty close by though, only a couple of streets away from the park—I think I’m going to risk trying to get back.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Maia said, worried.

If he left her here to fend for herself, would that make him a bad person? It wasn’t like they knew each other. Leaving her here, blind and without any idea of where she was, would probably haunt him when he had a moment spare to regret it.

“You can follow me if you want,” Quinn offered.

“Thank you,” Maia said, relieved. “Can I hold onto you?”

“That’s fine,” Quinn said. “We’re going up the hill—whoa, that’s my face.”

“Sorry,” Maia laughed nervously, “I was getting the slap in early before you did anything weird; show you what to expect, you know?”

Someone had said something similar to him when he was a kid; Only it had been far more mean-spirited back then and had ended with him getting smacked in the face.

“Wow,” Quinn said dryly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence; I just love being told something like that.”

Maia’s fingers touched his shoulder, running down his arm before catching hold of his hand. Quinn swallowed as her fingers sunk between his own, the motion strangely intimate and sending a thrill along his skin.

“Sorry,” Maia said, squeezing his hand. “I’m a bit freaked out right now.”

“So am I,” Quinn admitted, beginning his very careful ascent up the hill. “This isn’t exactly a normal situation.”

“Right,” Maia said, using his hand as a guide. “Quinn? What do you think is really happening here?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Quinn said, hoping he wasn’t about to run into a bench or something. “Either the sun just vanished, or we’ve both gone blind at the exact same time; I’m not sure which is more unlikely, but I’m trying not to think about it honestly, or I’m going to start panicking.”

“It’ll be okay, Quinn—let’s talk about something else,” Maia murmured, squeezing his hand. “How long have you lived here?”

The fact that she was now trying to reassure him by asking such a mundane question had him shaking his head. Quinn focused his attention back on his feet when he almost tripped. The hill’s elevation was starting to level out, and it surprised him how much of a mental map he really had of his surroundings.

“In Saltwall?” Quinn said belatedly. “I bought a house four and a half years ago now; that’s when I started living here.”

“Oh wow,” Maia said, surprised. “That’s not very long.”

Four and a half years wasn’t very long? Quinn tossed the darkness where she was presumably standing, another strange look that he knew she couldn’t see. What exactly did she consider a long time?

“Back in my day, you had to live in a city for sixty years before you could be called a local,” Quinn mocked, rasping his voice.

“Sorry, was I being rude?” Maia giggled. “I can’t really talk; I only got here today.”

“Not really; it just sounded a bit odd,” Quinn said. “You said you were staying at a hotel? Why are you here?”

“In Saltwall?” Maia asked hesitantly.

Quinn almost rolled his eyes; where else would he be talking about? The park? Before he could prompt her that yes, obviously he meant Saltwall, she spoke up again.

“I bought a house, but none of my things are there yet,” Maia said nervously. “I could see the park from my window.”

There weren’t that many hotels around the park; it must have been one of the highrises further back. He tried not to pay too much attention to how she readjusted her grip on his fingers for the fourth time.

“Neat,” Quinn said, voice bland.

Walking forwards into the dark and unknown was a very bad feeling, and the longer he went without his feet hitting the pavement, the more nervous he was becoming. He began dragging his feet slightly with each step, using the additional contact to better keep track of the ground.

Quinn’s foot hit something hard, unyielding, and definitely the path.

“We’re at the path,” Quinn said, almost sighing in relief.

Something was twigging at the edge of his thoughts, telling him that something was strange—other than the fact that the sun was missing—but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of what it was.

“Oh, thank god,” Maia breathed.

The way she’d spoken sent a shiver down his spine, he could almost hear the shape of the words on her lips, or it might just be the way her thumb was dragging small patterns along the skin of his hand—Maia probably didn’t intend it that way, but he couldn’t help his reaction to it.

It made him wonder what this stranger actually looked like; he could tell she was shorter than him by the way her arm bumped against his own. Her voice had him picturing someone in their twenties, perhaps on the younger side, but he couldn’t be sure.

“How old are you anyway?” Quinn asked, trying to distract himself from her fingers.

“Thirty-two,” Maia said.

“Oh,” Quinn said, genuinely surprised, “You sound younger than that.”

It probably wasn’t an appropriate thought given the alarming circumstances, but he had always had a thing for older women, and the feeling of her hand caressing his own was a constant reminder—was she doing this on purpose? She had to be doing it on purpose.

“Was that a compliment?” Maia wondered.

“Just an observation,” Quinn shrugged, tapping his foot against the edge of the path to make sure he was still on track. “I’m twenty-eight; thanks for asking, by the way, that was very nice of you.”

He anticipated the squeeze of her hand this time; maybe it was just a nervous tick after all.

“Sorry,” Maia giggled again, “I’m being quite rude today—I don’t mean to.”

“Just a joke,” Quinn said easily, “You can be as rude as you like; I just want this nightmare to end.”

“So do I,” Maia mumbled.

“Does something feel weird to you right now?” Quinn wondered, foot searching forward in the dark. “I keep getting this feeling that somethings missing—and you better not say the light.”

“I noticed it too; there are no other people? I mean, nobody has called out or anything,” Maia said hesitantly. “And aren’t we next to a road right now?”

How much of an idiot could he be to have missed that? Where the hell were the people?

“If this blindness is affecting everyone, then nobody would be driving because they couldn’t see,” Quinn said, frowning. “I suppose they would have all turned their cars off and are waiting for their sight to come back?”

“That’s probably it,” Maia agreed, but it didn’t sound like she believed it. “What about the other people, though—there were others in the park.”

He didn’t know; it was actually very, very strange that not a single person had called out anything within earshot. Quinn came to a stop, suddenly wondering if everyone else had somehow died. But if they had, then surely he and Maia would have as well? Quinn felt a building pain in his head, barely enough to notice.

“Are you okay, Quinn?” Maia said, stepping closer. “Is there something in front of us?”

Maia trapped his arm in between both of her own, and their linked hands ended with his wrist pressed against her hip; he could just feel the hem of her—skirt? Shorts maybe? Rubbing against his skin.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” Quinn mumbled. “Let’s keep going.”

“Okay,” Maia said.

The further they moved along the path, and the closer to his street they got, the more his head began to ache.

“Quinn?” Maia mumbled, “My head is—can we stop here?”

“You have a headache?” Quinn said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’ve got a one as well, and it’s getting worse.”

“I’ve never felt something like this,” Maia groaned, pressing her forehead into his upper arm. “Are we walking into something dangerous?”

Quinn felt his foot hit the curb, and he stopped there, tightening his grip on Maia’s hand to make sure she didn’t step off onto the road.

“I don’t know,” Quinn admitted, face scrunched up. “You’re right, though; we should probably stop here.”

Quinn turned back around, hand searching in the darkness until it hit the wireframe fence he knew should be there.

“What street is this?” Maia mumbled.

“It’s Alice Street,” Quinn said, sitting down against the fence. “Maybe we’ve been hit with some kind of radiation? And we’re inside the area of effect?”

Maia hadn’t let go of his hand as she stood beside him, perhaps afraid he might leave her here if she did.

“Wouldn’t that kill us?” Maia whispered.

He felt the fence move as she sat down beside him, and he slowly uncoupled his hand from her own. Her fingers were clinging to his own for far too long, and he felt a spark of disappointment that she let him take it back at all.

“Yes,” Quinn said, wincing at the throbbing pain in his head. “If we’ve been exposed to something for long enough to get a headache this bad, then it’s probably too late.”

Maia didn’t say anything in response, instead just breathing quietly beside him. The idea that they might be dying felt like it couldn’t possibly be true. How could something like this happen on such an ordinary Sunday?

Where had everyone gone?

“Do you have someone waiting for you at home, Quinn?” Maia asked.

“Someone waiting for me?” Quinn wondered. “Like who?”

“I meant like a girlfriend,” Maia clarified, “Ugh, why does this hurt so much?”

“We’ve gone blind, everyone has vanished, we’re probably dying of radiation,” Quinn said, bemused. “And you want to know if I’m single?”

“Don’t phrase it like that; it makes me sound like some kind of stalker,” Maia squeaked, reaching out and catching his wrist. “And you didn’t even answer.”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Quinn admitted, “It’s been like six months since my last relationship—what about you?”

“No girlfriend for me either,” Maia said cheekily. “The rest is confidential.”

Damn, he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Uh-huh,” Quinn said dryly, “My headache is starting to go away now, and since you’ve stopped moaning, you must be feeling better as well?”

“I wasn’t moaning,” Maia said quickly, “It was a pained noise, got it? Pained.”

Maia stretched the last word out, leaning forward to make sure he heard it all.

“Is there a difference?” Quinn wondered.

“Between a pained noise and a moan?” Maia said, genuinely confused. “Of course there’s a difference.”

“Prove it,” Quinn scoffed.

Maia sucked in a breath as she readied herself to do just that and then paused as she realized exactly what she had been about to do.

“Oh wow,” Maia gave a startled laugh. “You actually almost got me.”

Quinn smirked to himself in the dark, attention on where her hand was curled around his wrist.

“It was worth a try,” Quinn said. “You didn’t answer, by the way—about your headache.”

“My headache is almost gone,” Maia admitted, “Do you think it’s safe enough to keep going?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighed, “We may as well try—dying out on the street sounds pretty terrible, honestly.”

“I hope we don’t die,” Maia said quietly, “I haven’t even got to sleep in my house yet.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, “Me either.”

“Was that you inviting yourself over?” Maia snorted. “Very subtle.”

“Subletly is my specialty,” Quinn said, voice dry. “You’d think there would be sirens or something; this entire situation is insane.”

Quinn braced his hand against the wire and pushed himself up to his feet. Maia was quick to follow his example, and once more, her hand sunk down into his, tangling his fingers with her own. There was no reason for her to be doing it like that, not unless she was trying to show him she was interested.

He was starting to think that he was just horny and imagining it all at this point.

“Let’s go,” Quinn said, forcibly pushing all thoughts of her touch away from his mind. “We aren’t that far off; my house is only a couple of minutes away from the park.”

“That’s a relief,” Maia said.

Quinn was just glad that he hadn’t somehow gotten them lost along the way. That would be embarrassing and likely catastrophic given their inability to see. He was mostly sure that wasn’t the case, though, because that wire fence had been exactly where it should have been. They would be quickly coming up on his street corner, and at that point, he was more or less home. Then he’d be able to get to his phone, call emergency services and find out what the hell was going on here.

His foot found air, exactly where he thought it should be.

“Curb here,” Quinn said, stepping down. “Watch your step; we’re going left.”

“Watch my step?” Maia said wryly, “I’m blind, Quinn.”

“You’re a comedian is what you are,” Quinn said, aggrieved. “This is my street, and there should be a tree right here somewhere—here it is.”

The sheer relief that flooded him at making it back was something he couldn’t have described out loud.

“Nice place,” Maia said, squeezing his hand.

“You’re blind, Maia.” Quinn sighed. “You can’t even see it.”

“You don’t need to keep bringing it up,” Maia said, and somehow he knew she was smiling. “I’m sensitive, you know?”

Quinn sent an exasperated look in her direction and then carefully moved across the lawn towards the front of his house. His fingers hit the window, and now, much more confidently, he moved left until he found the front door.

“I have so much more respect for the blind now,” Quinn admitted, “They’ve got it tough.”

“Mm.” Maia noised.

He dug around in his pocket for his keys and then flipped past two of them, trying to guess which key belonged to the door by touch alone. He somehow managed to guess it right on the first time, and then he opened the door.

They had barely stepped in through the front door when the world came back, and he was left standing face to face with Maia, their hands still intertwined—Quinn was struck speechless.

A wash of déjà vu crashed over him, and his eyes flittered across her face, trying to find understanding.

He’d never seen her before; of that, he was certain, but somehow she looked familiar in a way that shook him. Her cheekbones were high but not pronounced, and her nose was small, turned up at the end. Both were covered in a dusting of freckles that almost sent him rocking back onto his heels.

Quinn was certain he’d seen the pattern before, but on another face entirely—He lifted his gaze to her eyes, and the shape of them could have been taken straight out of his memory. The line of her jaw curved up to her ear like a perfect stroke of ink on a page, and he could almost feel his fingers tracing its path. Her hair was thick, short, and dark—there was a deeply unsettling moment where he couldn’t quite tell if it was black or a dark brown before it settled in the light.

For that frozen moment in the threshold of his house, Quinn couldn’t understand how she could even exist. Maia was a chimera of features, lines, and skin that couldn’t possibly be real, and for all of the impossibility, she was the single most attractive person he’d ever seen. Instead of feeling rapture at her beauty or even awe, he found himself sinking into unease, swallowed by the unnatural beauty of her presence.

Nobody was this attractive.

Everyone had an imperfection or a flaw, and often more than one. Some faces were too symmetrical, while others weren’t quite symmetrical enough. Someone could even have a singularly striking feature that drew the eye and made them uniquely beautiful, distinct in that one way.

Maia looked as if she was made of a hundred different striking features, each drawn directly from his mind—It was completely and utterly unnatural.

“Quinn, I can see!” Maia said, eyes wide and startled.

Maia’s thumb curled around his own, the motion sending a line of fire up his spine, and he looked down at where her fingers were smoothly interlocked within his own. 

“Yeah,” Quinn was all he could manage.

Quinn dragged his gaze back up to her own and found Maia watching him with a knowing smile painted across her face. He was struck by a moment of dissonance, unused neural pathways flicking to life in a very specific pattern.

When he was fourteen years old, he’d been on the subway downtown. A woman, perhaps ten years older than him, had sat across from him. Her attention had been on her phone, but his own attention had been inexorably drawn to where the hem of her skirt cut across her thighs. The woman adjusted her legs just enough that he could see a sliver of white where the material had ridden up, and when he’d lifted his gaze, he’d found her watching him with dark eyes, a knowing smile on her face.

Quinn swallowed at the look, unable to speak.

A man called out from down the street, voice triumphant, and the next-door neighbour’s dog began to bark in response to the sudden noise. The unexpected sound dragged him out of the spell she’d had him under.

Quinn breathed in for what felt like the first time in minutes.

“It wasn’t just us after all,” Quinn said, listening as more shouting joined the man.

“So everyone went blind?” Maia said, amazed, “What the hell was that, Quinn?”

Gone was the unpracticed way she’d been saying his name earlier, now her mouth practically curled around it like she was whispering into his ear, and the cadence sent an intoxicating rush of feelings through him, equal parts arousal, fear, and a burning need for her to say it again.

“I—I have no idea,” Quinn fumbled, feeling more unbalanced than he’d ever been in his life. “I’m going to check the news now—to see if there’s any information about this. Do you want to—Uh—Do you want me to call you a ride?”

He’d almost asked if she wanted to stay, which was ludicrous given everything that had just happened. The realization at just how close the words had come to spilling out of his mouth without having consciously made the decision sent a thrill of concern through him.

A genuine look of surprise sparked across her face, and for just a moment, she looked almost hurt, but even that expression was painfully bright. The unearthly beauty and the brilliant contours of her voice—Quinn felt like he was drowning in her presence, desperate for air but unable to reach the surface.

“Oh,” Maia said, recovering. “No, thank you—I think I’ll go back to the park; I should be able to find my hotel from there.”

“Alright,” Quinn said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Try not to go blind on your way back.”

“I’ll try not to,” Maia said, smiling, still looking up at him. “Bye, Quinn.”

Quinn did the hardest thing he’d ever had to do and pulled his hand back from her own; her fingertips dragged across his palm, and he forced down a shiver.

“Bye, Maia,” Quinn whispered as she stepped back outside.

Quinn watched her go from the threshold, and even after she had vanished from view, he found himself staring at the fence line, dreading that she might return and hoping that she would.

Quinn glanced at the clock for the fifth time, uneasy and feeling like he’d forgotten something important.

The inexplicable mass blindness had been assigned the name ‘The Sundown,’ which was perhaps too mundane a name for something that had caused so much damage. The supernatural event had been localized within Saltwall City and had lasted for exactly one hour.

Surprisingly it had caused a trivial amount of damage; those who had been driving at the time had suffered the worst. Seventeen drivers had been confirmed injured, which was very little given how large the population was.

The response to it was basically nothing—he’d flicked through the news stations already, but it was only being mentioned in passing. He’d tried the internet, scouring forums, but somehow nobody was talking about it at all.

Everyone in Saltwall City had gone blind for an entire hour, and nobody seemed to care. The completely uninterested response from the general public to something like this was frustrating beyond belief.

Quinn couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around how it had happened in the first place; it was entirely outside of his scope of understanding. It had kept him up all night, and the bags under his eyes were a testament to how little sleep he’d managed to get.

The few moments of sleep he had managed to get were filled with images of Maia. He’d dreamt of slivers of moments shared with strangers and even hours spent with lovers. Maia was the one whose face was present in those dreams.

His mind played loops of the way she had drawn her hand down his shoulder, fingertips brushing against his skin in the dark, how her fingers had sunk between his own, tightening into an almost desperate tangle. The way Maia had looked over her shoulder at him as she vanished past the fence had him swallowing at the memory.

Quinn had never felt anything like this before.

He felt like his thoughts of her were consuming him; he’d even begun to imagine her face in other moments of his life where she absolutely hadn’t been present. A thousand entanglements that had nothing to do with her, invaded by her magnetically familiar presence.

Quinn had been in love with half a dozen people in his life, some greater and some lesser, but none of it had ever felt like this. It was as if just seeing her or standing in her presence woke every strand of attraction and every filament of stimulation he’d ever had all at once.

This wasn’t love; Quinn knew it wasn’t love—this was something else.

An unexpected sound caught his ear, and he glanced over at his front window blinds; he heard the sound of a door slam and two men speaking. He tilted his head as a heavy chain clinked against concrete again, and then something mechanical hummed to life.

Losing to his curiosity, he stood up, making his way over to the window and using the back of his hand to open the covers just a sliver. It was a large white truck, and he could see through the back door into the interior; it was completely loaded with furniture. The two men wasted no time in stacking the objects onto the elevated platform before riding it down to the driveway.

Someone was moving in?

When the hell had his neighbour moved out? Quinn paused, wondering if the old man had met a tragic end during the Sundown, before tossing the idea out because the timelines didn’t match up. His stuff was clearly already gone, and someone was moving in; twenty-four hours just wasn’t enough time for that to happen.

Quinn leaned against the wall next to the window, frowning. Had the man really moved, and he just hadn’t noticed it? How had he missed people taking his belongings out? He pushed the blinds back again, eyeing the truck, unsure how he felt about the situation.

One of the men was talking to someone just out of sight, and just as he was about to drop the blind; A freckled face stopped at the back of the truck, an uncomfortably bright smile on her face—the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“There’s no way,” Quinn said quietly.

Maia turned just enough to look in his direction, and he slammed the blind shut, heart thudding in his chest.

“No,” Quinn said, feeling disorientated. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

It didn’t make sense; when did he last see the neighbour? He racked his brain trying to remember, but the thought eluded him. A voice that curled around the words like silk said something faint from out the front, and he found himself straining to hear it.

Quinn shook his head, pulling his mind back on task.

The neighbour had gone out the back and shouted at his dog to get it to come back inside—when had that been? He couldn’t pin the thought down; it had to have been within the last couple of days, hadn’t it?

“He was here a few days ago,” Quinn said out loud as if voicing the thought would help solidify it. “Somehow, without me noticing, he moved out all of his stuff? I never heard a thing?”

He wouldn’t have even had three days to empty his house—even less than that given the Sundown had happened yesterday. Buying or selling a house took time, was three days really enough for someone to accomplish all of that?

“Is that really enough time?” Quinn said quietly.

Was it possible that the neighbour had actually been moving his stuff out for weeks, a bit at a time, in preparation for Maia to move in? How could he have possibly missed that? He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a pressure build behind his eyes. There was a knock on the door, and Quinn slowly turned to stare at it, already knowing who was on the other side.

This didn’t make any sense.

“Quinn!” Maia said as he opened the door. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the street.”

Quinn was struck again at how familiar she looked, and he found himself searching every line in her face for answers to the feeling. He just couldn’t even point to what specifically registered as most familiar because all of it felt the same.

“Maia,” Quinn said, keeping his voice level. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I actually completely forgot to give you my number before I left yesterday,” Maia said, tapping a finger against her cheekbone and looking at him through the corner of her eye. “I thought I could make you dinner as a thank you?”

The finger drew his gaze to her cheek and the splash of freckles that blessed her face. The white of her eyes contrasted against the black line of ink framing them. Her iris floated amongst the canvas of white as spots of blue so dark they may as well have been black. He found himself sinking beneath the flood again as another rush of dissonance sent his mind racing to remember.

He was sixteen years old and sitting in a classroom. A girl whose name he didn’t know had turned her seat sideways, giving her a direct line of sight to his position. She had dark hair and a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose. A pen was dangling from her mouth, lip pressed against the bottom of the casing. She was looking directly at him, and he found her strangely intimidating. She watched him for minutes at a time, making no move to break eye contact. The pen slowly titled as she used her tongue to leverage it upwards, a flicker of pink against the white of the pen or perhaps her teeth—

Quinn forced himself to break eye contact with her, feeling like if he didn’t, he’d end up drowning.

“Dinner?” Quinn asked, trying to get his brain to restart. “Uh, sure, that sounds nice.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him out—had that ever happened? Usually, it was him asking someone else. The unease began to rise once more, and he wondered when it had vanished.

Why had he accepted the invitation?

“Perfect,” Maia said, smiling. “How about tonight at seven?”

He glanced over her shoulder at the removalist truck. Did she even have food in her house? She was still in the process of moving in.

“Okay,” Quinn said slowly, “You sure you have the time tonight? It looks like you’ve got a lot of unpacking to do.”

“I paid the premium and labelled each of the boxes,” Maia said, smirking. “I’m also going shopping now, and hopefully, by the time I’m back, they’ll be done putting it all away.”

Quinn was aware they would put the boxes in specific rooms but actually unpack them? Was that something removalists even did?

“I see,” Quinn said. “After you left here yesterday, did you find your way back to the hotel alright?”

Maia gave an awkward laugh, looking like she’d been caught doing something bad. Quinn felt another flash of familiarity at the look and found his eyes dropping to her lips as she spoke,

“Listen, I totally got there—eventually,” Maia said, a little embarrassed, “It’s the journey that counts, right?”

“I prefer to actually reach my destination,” Quinn said, focusing on the neighbour’s dog barking to avoid thinking about the colour of her lips. “Getting lost seems like a waste of time, honestly.”

“No way,” Maia said quickly, taking up the argument. “The finish line isn’t the reward; it’s how you get there—which I totally did.”

“If you say so,” Quinn said, “Either way, I’m glad you made it back alright, Maia.”

“I wouldn’t have made it back at all if you hadn’t saved me,” Maia said, gratitude clear in her voice.

“You could have sat at the park for an hour, and you would have been perfectly fine in the end.” Quinn pointed out. “I barely did anything at all.”

Quinn forced himself to pull his eyes away from her mouth—what was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? She had to of known that he was acting strangely; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her face—

“Humble too?” Maia said coyly. “Be still my beating heart.”

“Oh god,” Quinn swallowed, hoping it hadn’t sounded quite as desperate as it had come out. “If that’s your attempt at swooning, it needs some work.”

Maia flashed him her perfect teeth, and he knew he’d failed to hide a damn thing—his face felt hot.

“I’ll make sure to spend plenty of time practising,” Maia promised. “I should probably go; I need to go make sure they can actually read the labels before I head out; I don’t want the fridge to end up in the bathroom.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever made that mistake in the history of mankind,” Quinn swallowed. “You may be the first.”

Maia reached out and patted him once on the chest, and the touch sent a thrill racing through him.

“I’d love to be the first,” Maia said with a wink and spun away.

Quinn slumped as she left him at the door, feeling like his nerves were singing under his skin. Before he had even opened the door, he’d been suspicious of her, but just being in her presence was enough to shut down his ability to think critically almost completely—he’d even agreed to go to her house for dinner.

There was something horribly wrong here; he just couldn’t see the pieces of the puzzle.

The day passed by quickly, and he spent most of it chasing news about the Sundown.

Nothing new had been discovered about it; the news stories were all just clickbait titles, worded just different enough that it gave hope of new information, but when he clicked on it, there was absolutely nothing of note.

He turned his search towards history, but he couldn’t find a single instance of something like this happening before. The closest were vague descriptions that were very obviously referenced to eclipses and not city-wide blindness.

The hours whittled away with nothing to show for it, and his frustrations continued to build to a boiling point—the fucking neighbour’s dog and its constant barking wasn’t helping his patience either. How come nobody had a real theory about how this could have happened? Just nonsense articles with the most unhelpful bullshit he’d ever seen.

Quinn closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair. He’d need to be patient; someone would figure out what had happened, eventually. It was the single biggest event in recent history—or even most of history given how abnormal it was.

The sun vanishing? Something like that would require an untold amount of power to accomplish. Only a god could do something like that, and it made him wonder—why would a god seal away the sun for an hour?

What was the point? What could you possibly get out of it? Entertainment maybe? Send the humans into a frenzy by flicking the metaphorical light switch? If there were a god, surely he wouldn’t be that childish.

Quinn glanced at the clock, watching the numbers change, wondering what it was that he’d forgotten.

There was something he was supposed to be doing right now; he was supposed to be somewhere. The fingers of his mind brushing against it—inside of his reach but outside of his grasp.

“Where?” Quinn muttered. “I’m late for something? What is it?”

Was he supposed to go to the bank—no, he’d already done that last week. It couldn’t have been a doctor’s appointment because he never scheduled them during working hours. Had someone asked him to take them somewhere? It felt wrong to be just sitting around like this—like he was wasting the day away.

Quinn lifted his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched it shut—he was giving himself a headache again.

He slid his hand into his pocket, fingers gripped around his car keys, and after a moment stood up—he remained there in the middle of the room, mind groping for the reason before the neighbour’s dog started up again.

He’d almost had it that time.

“For fuck sake,” Quinn cursed before stuffing his keys back into his pocket.

Quinn moved over to the window, catching one of the removalists retracting the lift at the back of the truck next door. The premium must have been worth the extra; they’d made good time in emptying all of the furniture out. Especially given how full it had looked, clearly, the two were professionals.

He watched them get into the truck before pulling out of the driveway.

Quinn wondered if he shouldn’t follow their example and actually go out for a drive, it might jog his memory—he winced as his headache spiked once more. Frustrated, and annoyed he slumped back down onto the couch, wondering why today had to be so difficult.

With a sigh, he gave up on trying to remember whatever he’d forgotten, if it had been really important, he would have figured it out by now, or someone would have contacted him. He turned his mind to more productive things, namely the dinner he was supposed to be attending at seven.

Quinn still wasn’t sure how he’d agreed to go at all.

There were two rules he followed, and they were mutually exclusive—you made friends with your neighbours, or you never spoke to them. Quinn had lived by that advice since his dad had given it to him at eighteen when he booted him out of the house, and he had no intention of messing with it now.

He’d been lucky enough to avoid making friends with either of his and had spoken to both less than half a dozen times in four years. The lady on his right had made a token attempt once, but Quinn hadn’t fallen for it. The old man with the dog—well, he wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore now.

What he did have to worry about was Maia, and he’d already failed the first neighbour check. Turning down Maia’s offer for dinner would be breaking those rules because turning down her offer of a thank-you dinner would be exceptionally rude.

It was making friends, or ignoring wholesale, creating enemies was not part of the system.

The problem was twofold, however—for one, she made him feel distinctly uneasy in a way he’d never really felt before, and number two was the fact that he was entirely too attracted to her. Her attractiveness fed straight into that unease he felt, and it made this situation even harder to navigate than he thought was fair.

All in all, this probably was just a thank-you dinner, and Maia was new here. Quinn was a familiar face, and she probably wanted to set a good neighbourly precedent for the same reasons. It was likely that he’d go over, have a nice homecooked meal, and then they’d probably never speak again.

Quinn nodded to himself, feeling more at ease than he had all day.

“You feel so good,” Maia moaned in his ear, thighs clamped around his own.

Quinn’s hands tightened around her back as she did her best to fuck him into the table. The wooden legs rattled against the tiles as she bounced in his lap, and he buried his face into her neck. The skin of his cock felt tight, and he couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been this hard.

“Fuck,” Quinn breathed into her neck.

“Yes,” Maia moaned.

Her hands gripped his chin and dragged his face up to meet hers—she buried her tongue all the way into his mouth, and he did his best to keep her from taking it back. Maia rocked down harder, and the entire table rattled at the force.

Quinn sunk his fingers into the flesh of her hip and then lowered it even further below. Maia moaned into his mouth and pressed hard into his mouth, tongue exploring his teeth with enthusiasm he’d rarely felt.

“Slow down,” Quinn gasped into her mouth.

She was heading their rhythm completely, and she’d set a pace that was far outstripping his ability to withstand. He tightened his grip on her, fingertips practically melting into the texture of her skin.

“No,” Maia refused.

Maia leaned forward into him until he had to use one of his arms to brace himself lest he fall all the way back onto the table. Her hand clamped down onto his shoulder, and then she began pulling almost the entire way off his cock before sinking back down in sharp thrusts.

“Fuck,” Quinn groaned.

Maia’s chest sat level with his head now, and he ducked into her, taking her nipple into his mouth. His cock was thrumming as he’d never felt before, and the warmth of her grip on him sent thrills of electricity through his nerves.

This was like nothing he’d ever experienced, and his mind was still aware enough to know it wasn’t natural. Why did he so desperately want to taste Maia’s skin? Had she drugged him? Was that why just touching her felt so intense?

“What are you doing to me?” Quinn gasped, biting down on her breast.

Maia pulled him from her chest and ducked her head to kiss his nose, the touch of her lips gentle. Quinn couldn’t understand how she could do something so affectionate while she was riding him down into the tabletop—she leaned down until her lips hovered against his own.

“Quinn,” Maia moaned into his mouth. “I’m going to make you cum.”

Maia held his face there, drinking in his expression as she did just that.

“Maia,” Quinn choked out.

Quinn felt like the sight of her eyes would be burned into his dreams forever, and he couldn’t look away. The orgasm itself was entirely beyond him, and all he could do was gasp desperately into her mouth while his nerves lit up like an ice-cold flame, burning and freezing all at once.

He tried to bury his face in her neck to escape the intensity of her gaze, but she moved with him, raking her eyes across his face and taking in everything. His cock surged inside her, and every pulse sent rivers of sparks up his spine.

“It’s perfect,” Maia breathed, kissing his nose again. “You’re perfect, Quinn.”

Even if he hadn’t been driven to the edge of sanity by her very presence, he wouldn’t have had a response. He just panted beneath her, trying to remember how it had even come to this point and which moment had led them from conversation to this.

It felt like a blur, like he’d missed some part of the night, and he couldn’t even remember coming over to her house in the first place. The old man’s dog continued to bark next door, and instead of annoyance, a chill raced up his spine.

“You drugged me,” Quinn swallowed. “What is this?

Maia hugged him into her chest, and the feeling of her skin on his was at war with the fear that was growing inside of him.

“I didn’t drug you,” Maia whispered into his hair as she slowly rode him. “It’s more complicated than that, Quinn.”

Quinn gripped her hips tightly, holding her still.

“Don’t—” Quinn managed, shivering beneath her. “Get off of me.”

Maia’s hands settled gently onto his shoulders, but she didn’t move to climb off of him.

“Quinn,” Maia murmured hesitantly. “Please let me explain.”

Quinn leaned forward until his feet were level on the floor again, standing up—Maia was forced to stand, and his cock slipped out of her during the process.

“How are you doing this?” Quinn said, panicked, stepping away from her. “How did I get here?”

Quinn felt that sense of fear growing; she’d done something to him. Maia flinched at the look he was giving her, and her hand came up like she wanted to grab him and pull him back.

“I—I’m not like you, Quinn,” Maia whispered.

That fear was turning to horror, and he wondered if she was human at all.

“What are you?” Quinn managed, stumbling into the bench and then looping around it to keep something between them.

“I’m not bad, please,” Maia pleaded, “I don’t want to hurt you; I promise I can explain.”

“You’re messing with my head,” Quinn said, feeling the hairs on his neck stand up. “That dog that keeps barking….”

“Quinn—” Maia tried.

The shape of her dining room was too familiar, the materials and colours were different, but the shape was identical to his own.

“It’s not in the right spot,” Quinn said, looking around the room. “This isn’t your house, is it? It’s mine. You tricked me into thinking I’d gone next door, but I haven’t left my house, have I?”

The room changed, the colours bleeding away and the materials transforming as he watched.

“I’m sorry,” Maia said gently, stepping forward. “I didn’t want to deceive you—please, believe me, Quinn.”

The sound of his name sent sparks down his spine, and he flinched.

“Stop saying my name,” Quinn said, feeling like the room was spinning. “Why did you—you targetted me during the Sundown?”

“Quinn, please—” Maia said, begging now.

“Why?” Quinn said, backing up further as she rounded the counter.

“We made an agreement,” Maia whispered, “You and I.”

“I never made any kind of agreement,” Quinn said, shaken. “I would remember something like—”

Quinn basked in the warmth of the sun, wishing he’d reach photosynthesis like the grass beneath him or the trees that littered the park. If he could just come out into the sun and recharge whenever he was feeling tired—wouldn’t that be amazing? Although, if society had been built by humans that only needed the sun to function, they might well have monetized that as well.

“What?” Quinn murmured.

“I met you in that park, Quinn,” Maia said gently. “Before you lost your sight.”

He actually remembered hearing about a group of people who had decided that staring at the sun everyday did just that—recharging them in a way more profound than just regular food would accomplish. Quinn hadn’t seen any proof that it did anything other they hurt your eyes, but who really knew?

“You were never blind, were you?” Quinn flinched, back hitting the wall.

Quinn glanced up at the sun for a moment, squinting hard against its light. He struggled to open his eyes against the brightness, wondering if there was anything to it after all. He lasted all of five seconds before he was forced to look away as the sun got the better of him.

“No, Quinn, I can still see,” Maia said with a hesitant smile. “You looked right at me, just as I arrived—that’s all it takes to forge the connection.”

Before he’d managed to entirely regain his eyesight, something crashed into the path before him. Shards of concrete scattered as it broke apart under some unknown force. He looked past his raised arms; the air above the pavement was distorted and shimmering like someone was standing there, and then everything went black.

“I took your eyes to forge the connection between us,” Maia murmured, stepping closer.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Quinn gasped, feeling his headache return. “I can still see—”

“You’re only seeing what I’m showing you,” Maia said gently, “It’s all real, just filtered, and the perspective changes before it reaches you—”

What? That couldn’t be true; what kind of agreement works while only one party is informed and the other isn’t? She’d taken his eyes because he looked at her? The smile on her face was filled with care and understanding.

“That isn’t a contract,” Quinn said, letting his hand drop from his face. “You just decided on it without any communication between us—stop smiling like that.”

Maia flinched.

“Don’t—Don’t look at me like that,” Maia said, hurt. “This is what it means to be what I am, Quinn—you can’t hate me, please.”

Quinn rocked back into the wall at the pain in her voice.

“Nothing I’m looking at right now is real,” Quinn said, flinching at the look on her face. “You’re probably not even upset; how could I ever trust what you’re saying—you stole my eyes!”

“I’d never steal from you, Quinn,” Maia said quietly.

“A trade requires two consenting parties,” Quinn said, furiously shaking his head. “You’re twisting my perceptions—that’s why you look so familiar, isn’t it?”

“I look like this because it’s what you like,” Maia pleaded, stepping closer. “I’m doing it because I want you to feel good; I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Stay there,” Quinn managed, holding his hand up.

Maia reached out very slowly, with no aggression in her features.

“My species isn’t like yours, Quinn,” Maia said, touching her finger against his palm. “I can’t exist on my own as you can.”

The feeling of her fingertips sent a shock of indescribable pleasure rushing up his arm, hitting his spine, and then spreading out across his body. It was a shade less than what she’d done to him on the table, and he shuddered, legs unsteady.

“What do you need to exist—what do you need from me?” Quinn said. “Are you going to eat me?”

“You’re making me sound like a monster,” Maia said, voice shaking. “I just want to live—with you, the two of us.”

The pain on her face made him turn his head to the side to avoid looking at her—she was feeding him this image.

“You won’t grow sick,” Maia said quietly, “You won’t age.”

His knees began to buckle, unable to withstand the feelings coursing through him.

“You found me, and I’ll always be here with you,” Maia promised, pressing into his chest to hold him up against the wall. “I’m sorry about your eyes, but I’ll be your sight from now on.”

“I didn’t find you,” Quinn gasped.

“You did find me,” Maia said, drumming her fingertips against the front of his shirt. “You saved me.”

That same shudder rocked him, and he collapsed fully against the wall, slowly beginning to sink down to the floor.

“I didn’t make that choice,” Quinn gasped, “You saved yourself, Maia, and you did it at my expense.”

Maia flinched at the accusation, and the overwhelming sensations inside him muted down to barely a trickle.

“I’ll never hurt you, Quinn,” Maia whispered. “I needed to find someone; I needed a partner to feed.”

Maia pressed her face into his neck, and Quinn curled forward as the feeling crashed through him again. He hit the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer, and Maia followed him down, mouth pressed on his neck, and when he reached the floor, she carefully reached down between them.

“Feed?” Quinn gasped at her touch.

Overwhelming sensation built in an instant, and he flinched forward into her, trying to brace himself against the feeling—Quinn shuddered against her, fingers digging into her wrist as she brought him to release with just her fingers.

“This,” Maia shivered against his neck. “Pleasure, desire, attraction, attention—I need it to survive, and I need you to want me.”

“What about what I want?” Quinn choked out.

“I am what you want, Quinn,” Maia said.