Turn it on in your workshop.

“We’ll come back for you,” Jorrel shouts from outside, “Like, an hour or two. Just sit tight!”

However the weird portal thing works, it seems to have held in place just outside, where you fell in. Fell sideways? Whatever. Looking up, out the portal, you can see Jorrel and Emalie rolling the machine away into the night. Towards home. Towards fireplaces and malevolent cats. Towards stalling for time so you don’t have to think about how you and Mute are all alone.

“Here,” Mute hands you a stack of clothes, “I think we could both use a change. Will you judge me if I rummage through Jorrel’s stuff?”

“A little, if you don’t share the details with me,” you joke.

Mute begins rummaging through Jorrel’s bag, leaving you to change. Still, you dip out of a door and into a hallway, slightly closing the door – leaving just a crack just in case you’re ambushed or something. Sure, you’re sort of standing so Mute could see you through it, but that’s solely for safety reasons. Just that. No other reason. Shut up.

The clothes turn out to be Mute’s nightwear. An oversized sweater with a print of a cat’s paw and text reading, ‘I Me-OwO-U’ and matching, slightly oversized trackpants. If you tied these loosely enough it would make it easy to slide out of them or slide a hand into them. Why are you thinking about this? Are you dying? Putting a hand on your chest, you close your eyes and listen to your heart – like all those cheesy plays tell you to.

Thumb-Thump-ThumpthumpthumAthumPATHUMPA—

Yeah, you’re dying. That’s why you feel so hot. It’s a case of heart beating too fast, heating your internal organs, causing catastrophic failure. Or it’s that other thought you had. In between sliding out and sliding in. You’re not really a pervert, you swear, and your rationale totally makes sense. You’ve been running all over the place. Doing all sorts of stuff and getting sweaty. So… it would only make sense you should… take off… your…

Underwear…

Ha, yes. Sure. Nothing creepy about that. Just two friends, one of them completely naked underneath the clothes they borrowed from said friend. It’s not like you’re going to be sitting right up against him or anything. You’ll just be standing there in oversized clothes, completely naked underneath. Having a regular conversation like you’re not ashamed of yourself. Feeling the fabric graze your skin as you move, quivering when it touches just so.

No. It’d be wrong. So wrong. You’re a respectable person. Not some sort of lewd hu—Is that your underwear on the floor?

Raising your arms, you find the folds of the sweater extending into wings. Not really, but looks like it, you think as your arms slump back down. This thing is huge.

Crap! You crouch and fold your underwear inside your jacket. God, why are these pants so huge!? This was the worst idea you’ve ever had. You might as well be wearing nothing! They leave so much empty air they could fit both you and Mute! No! Just you! Pants are for one person at a time, only! Silent scenarios run through your mind, detailing all the reactions Mute could have upon discovery. Surprisingly, only a few involve him screaming or slapping you. Fair, one of them involves him slapping you, but not on your face.

Okay, you’re going to die and you can’t breathe now. Each breath barely makes it below your chest, like it’s blocked by a knot in your stomach. How does breathing deeply work when you can’t fucking breathe! You’re breathing weirdly, acting weirdly, and blushing hard enough that people would have a hard time differentiating you from a strawberry. He’s going to find out. He’s totally going to find out and call you a creep. Because that’s what you are, a creep, you creepy-creeping-creep!

Mute yells, “Don’t come in! Jorrel was the one who stole my goddamn boxers and I’m reclaiming them – so I’m sort of naked!”

“Ha ha! Me too!” You reply. “I mean, not naked-naked, I’m wearing clothes. I was naked, is what I mean. Uh, I’m not naked anymore, though! I’m wearing every single piece of clothing a person would want to wear. Why wouldn’t I be wearing clothes? That’d be crazy! Anyway, how was your day!?”

Mute isn’t responding. After years of your weirdness, he’s finally had enough. That’s it. Well done, Shiv, you scared away the only boy you’ve ever been able to talk to. Why, thank you, Shiv, it took a long time, but, gosh darn, I finally did it.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Gulping hard, you reply, “Never mind! Just, you know- rambling! Can I come in now?” Feeling like you need more justification to enter the room, you lie, “It’s cold out here!”

Nothing, again. Straining your ears, you think you can hear struggled breathing. Maybe.

“Uh, yeah. Of course, you can come in. I mean, you don’t have anywhere else to go…. Wow, that sounded less threatening in my head.”

You can do this. Heart threatening to give out any moment now, you push the door open, slowly.