luckyluan

[luckyluan]

THERE'S A UNICORN AT THE DOOR! Click the first hashtag to catch up!

[luckyluan]

Thank you!

to everyone who read the new crossover short! It truly was one of the best experiences to write this! I love Oswin and Livingston. They are my babies. I spent a lot of time with them and loved telling one of their stories! If you haven't read it, CLICK THE FIRST HASHTAG TO CATCH UP. We're going somewhere fast!

-JDJ

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 7.2

Livingston dropped his gaze to the ground where his toes danced in his slides. He bent and scraped the water from his legs before he answered but found it lost somewhere in his chest. Oswin beckoned him closer, and the doctor walked into his open arms. He settled in Oswin’s embrace and the unicorn closed a blanket around them two of them. They gazed off into the distance and time slipped by. Oswin rested his chin on the crown of Livingston head and hummed a short tune. 

“I am deeply sorry for your mom’s departure. Your demeanor and attitude towards your abnormality now makes sense. You ran from your fight because the person who helped you cultivate it is no longer with us. I trust you know the God Black will grant her bright passage. She sounds like a remarkable woman. 

“How many are there?” Livingston asked. “Overall, I mean.” 

“I wager there are more gods in existence than stars in Estrelle’s dark garden. There is Ordan, King of the Godlands. Bae, His Queen, The Magic Godhead. Bayu, the mighty lord of the Seven Seas. His longtime lover, Wryth, whose blessing we experienced tonight. Also, Usa, the Proud Patron of War and Battle, the child of The Great Conflict. Choi, the Etern of Love, The God Black--” 

“--you mentioned the God Black earlier. I don’t remember that one.” Livingston interjected. 

“The God Black is the oldest god in existence. She oversees all transformations and the passage of souls. The Godlands as a neutral sanctuary to host her warring siblings and eventually retreated to her own domain. The Ultimate Impartial, sees all but chooses only to dwell in what is.” 

Oswin pressed his chin into the crown of Livingston’s head and let his cool breath wash over him. He ran his fingers along Livingston's damp skin and the doctor squirmed under his touch. 

“She is the being your mom met when she passed on. She councils the deceased as they move through the afterlife. She is in excellent care. All those who are capable of transitioning from this life are.” 

“Everyone doesn’t transition?” Livingston asked. 

“Not everyone. Some souls are incapable of making the necessary journey into the next stage of life. They may owe a debt to vengeful deity or are cursed by tradition or cultural ignorance. The entirety of Homoambrogus Cotardum adopted her as their patron.” 

“Homoabrogus Cotardum...” Livingston mused. “The Living Dead?” 

“The Ambiguous Dead.” Oswin corrected. “Those who have departed this life but find their souls immovable.” 

“Hold up. Vampires?! The Ambiguous Dead are vampires, right?” 

Oswin held his breathe. He drummed his fingers on Livingston’s thigh and the doctor nudged him in the ribs. Oswin exhaled his laughter in throaty coils. 

“The Vamir are an exceptionally reclusive and territorial branch of Abnormalkind, Livingston. We don’t deal with them as most suffer from insatiable hunger. Some adapt modern conventions but there are the stolid few who do their best to instill their hatred in their...offspring.” 

“That. Is. Wicked!” Livingston exclaimed. 

He lurched forward. His mind reeled with the new information. Livingston thought of the infinite possibilities immortality could offer to his research when he turned to Oswin’s stern face. 

“Dangerous, of course. We’d never, like, play with them if we saw them in public. We’re responsible adults, but that is cool.” 

“It’s curious Liliana never told you about them. They are a favorite bedtime story for parents with unruly children as I am certain you were a handful.” Oswin joked. 

“...Liliana.” Livingston repeated. “I never said my mom’s name, Oswin. 

Silence enveloped them. Livingston moved to his feet and loosened the coil at the base of his spine. The decadent scent of magnolias filled the air and a twisted branches grew from the windowsill. They wrapped around Oswin’s sinewy limbs and hoisted him into the air. Roots arranged themselves into steps and Livingston climbed toward the Oswin’s shocked face. Another branch slithered around Oswin’s neck at Livingston’s command, and he held his everchanging gaze. A clap of thunder illuminated is navy irises as spoke. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Livingston breathed. “I will not ask again.” 

--END--

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 7.1

Livingston’s eyes snapped open. Oswin’s heavy arm coiled around his waist. His ancient, dark body filled every empty space created by the shape of his body. Livingston smiled when Oswin’s snores reached his ears, and he listened to his many mumblings of gods. 

Livingston’s own internal ramblings set him motion and he soon untangled himself and navigated the intricate root system sprawled across his floors. He moved quietly up the stairs. He was cautious of the creaking fourth and ninth stairs as he crept into his room.  

He shut the door, turned the lock, and fell face first onto his bed with a muffled grunt. The silence pounded on his ears, and he did his best to sink into memory foam mattress. His pristine white sheets bore green stains, and he brushed the dirt off a pillow before he tucked it behind his head. 

Incredible flowers dominated his bedroom with their electrifying shades. They secured their spooling limbs around his nightstand; and the mirror in the corner lay in shards on the floor as a bulbous magnolia tree bore a hole through its frame. Livingston shook his head. He was never this fluent in his abnormality and this new expansion frightened him after so long away from the craft. 

“Canaan is going to love this.” he grumbled. 

He crossed into his bathroom and slid the shower door open. He spun the knob for hot water, hopped out of his boxers, and stepped into the scalding stream. Livingston breathed out a hiss under the biting water and he focused on growing a plant with oval shaped leaves in long, straight around the shower head. Moments later a crop of eucalyptus dangled from the faucet, and he inhaled the scented steam while he let his mind wander. 

His eyes shot open. Moments before, a bright flash touched his eyelids and, after the day he had, he grew curious. Livingston climbed out of the shower and padded into the light of the bathroom mirror wrapped in a towel. He looked down at its white and green stripes and his mind flitted to the man downstairs muttering in his sleep. The doctor dashed the steam from his mirror with a swipe of his pruned hand. 

The wild vapors stormed his bedroom when he opened the door. He followed their current across the floor until he noticed Oswin’s shadow jutting out of the shadows. He froze. The full moonlight highlighted the taut skin of his chest. It shaped around his muscles like a loving embrace as he gazed out the window lost in thought. 

“You scared the hell out of me!” Livingston growled. 

“I thought you absconded into the night.” Oswin flashed a bright smile. 

He turned his head back to the night sky and the once inviting light now placed his luminous face in darkness. Livingston found it impossible to discern the shadows from Oswin’s skin. He bit down on his lip. Oswin was a still from a movie he could not rewind. 

“I have not seen a night like this since the birth of the Virgo one lost September in ‘84. I can only marvel a Estrelle’s ornate work. My gods, what a tapestry!” 

“Estrelle?” Livingston asked. 

“The Star Maker? Lost child of The Void? She wanders through her mother’s vast black expanse and weaves her echoing cries into galaxies. Are you not acquainted with The Great Tales?” Oswin aimed at him. 

“I’m familiar.” Livingston moaned. “I just put the godtheory and The Great Tales to rest long, long ago. All that was behind me.” 

“Was? What terrible act drove you so far from your heritage?” Oswin asked. 

[luckyluan]

Chapter 6.2

His energetic breeze rustled through the endless jungle of flora borne of Wryth’s blessing. He knelt beside the floral able and stared at Oswin whose twinkling eyes beamed a warm pink. His hooded expression made Livingston squirm. 

“I should—ummm—get you a blanket or something.” said Livingston. 

Oswin grabbed his hand and Livingston froze. He stood rooted to the spot like of the many stems growing from the cracks in the concrete. 

“Don’t.” Oswin plead. “Go, I mean. Don’t go. That was jarring. I’m not sure—it—I—it is fascinating. For the first time in five hundred thirty-seven years, I do not want to be alone.” 

The unicorn slid his fingers over Livingston’s palm and a tantalizing prickle raced up his knees. Livingston cleared the lump from his throat before he responded. 

“Oswin, you should rest.” he said. 

“I know.” Oswin replied. “But I fear I will not get much rest in your absence.” 

He closed his hand around Livingston’s wrist and pulled him down. Livingston stumbled backward and tumbled into Oswin’s waiting grasp. His shallow breaths moved the wispy hair at Oswin’s chin.  

Oswin slid his husky, stubbled arm around Livingston’s waist and tipped his chin toward the shimmering golden glow of the overhead light to read his expression. 

“I can stop...if you want.” Oswin breathed. 

Livingston pressed his lips into a fine line. The blush pink energy behind Oswin’s lattice like corneas pulsed in rhythmic schemes and Livingston slowly shook his head. 

“I think I know why I was led here.” Oswin continued. “I believed it was solely for protection. Then, I believed my responsibility was to remind you of your many gifts. Now, with certainty, I know I am here to unlock far more than your mind.” 

Oswin’s raspy tone reverberated through Livingston’s bones and buried itself deep in the pit of his stomach. His baritone growls clawed at Livingston’s lungs and filled the tears with scorching thirst. It blossomed up through his throat and covered his tongue in saliva. His skin tingled and the smattering of hair on his lithe arms stood erect when Oswin’s cool breath skated over the fragile veins in his neck. The gleaming light dipped to shades of lustrous peach and enormous petals of the same color unfurled around the swaying light. The velvet petals throbbed as they consumed the ceiling fixture; and their monstrous maw shrouded the room in mystery. 

“You saved me.” Oswin explained. “Now allow me to show you my purpose.” 

Oswin pressed his sumptuous lips to Livingston’s open mouth. Livingston closed his eyes, and the living energy knotted around his spine unfurled. It slithered up his vertebrae, spread through his ribs, and his new garden burst to life. 

Livingston laced his fingers through Oswin’s hair as did his collection of creepers. Mammoth chrysanthemums sprouted from climbing roots in fiery shades. The crunch of budding bark crackled the rustling air and the beige, paint-chipped corners of Livingston’s sparse home split at the seams. Spindly branches matured into sturdy appendages. Soothing pink blossoms uncurled their trumpet shaped petals in winding arcs of color. 

Heavy branches curved against the ceiling—reached across with sinewy fingers—and showered the room in a rain of leaves. Oswin tucked his under Livingston’s shirt. He slipped it over his head and tossed it aside. He lifted his borrowed sweater over his head. Livingston ran a finger over his muscled chest as Oswin let his shirt fall to the floor. The unicorn repositioned Livingston on his thighs and flipped over, so Livingston lay in their floral bed. 

Oswin pulled on Livingston’s sweatpants until they pooled around his ankles. Livingston kicked them into a corner as Oswin untied the loose knot of linen at his waist and moved his pants to his ankles. Livingston’s abnormality pulsed, from his waist, like a beacon and his new garden responded with crinkling sighs. The garden filled the air with dense smog and filtered the dusky light into pillars. 

“You’re going to make it rain.” Oswin teased. 

“I live in Louisiana. That’s normal.” Livingston smiled. 

Oswin lowered himself onto Livingston and enveloped in with a squeeze of his arms. He consumed Livingston’s lips with his own once more and the doctor responded in kind. He nipped at Oswin’s neck until he released a primal moan. The room sagged with palpable humidity and a bulbous clap of thunder echoed through his house.  

“Told you.” Oswin chided. 

“Hush.” 

Livingston smiled as he wrapped his arms around Oswin’s neck. The power, roaring in his bones piqued and their bed expanded. Stems snapped and groaned while they twisted into a large cradle. Luscious vines crosshatched into an awning and a crop of delicate petals budded across their earthen tent as a light mist decorated the air. The printed petals of a vibrant lily covered the remaining crevices with their mass as the impending rain danced to the floor. 

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 6.1

The gargantuan corolla of a mammoth rose loomed over the odd pair. The doctor pumped the unicorn’s chest with skilled hands. His voice swaddled in tears; the flora responded to Livingston’s thoughts. The rose’s root system created a small dais upon which Oswin rested. Each of his labored breaths was a rattling wheeze and copper blood poured from his nose. The corners of his void eyes wept with the same bronze tears while his cracked Black lips spoiled in uneven, milky white patches. Oswin’s infinite skin gave his unique blood a venomous gleam as his lifeforce leaked from every orifice of his magnificent body. 

He shook Oswin’s shoulder then tapped his cheeks with the back of his hand before he cocked his right hand back and slapped him hard across the face. Livingston muttered his apologies. Green stems coiled underneath him in response and pushed him closer to the table. They sprouted tiny, shimmering bronze bulb which opened around glowing pistils. 

“Check his pulse, Liv. You’re a doctor!” 

He scolded himself. He touched two fingers to Oswin’s neck and the faint throb of blood pumped against his fingertips. Livingston breathed out a deep sigh and shifted to his knees. 

“Subject over five hundred years old. Hybrid species? Aconite poisoning. Quantity undetermined. Potency, however, is at its max as the aconite was infused with several medical grade chemicals. Symptoms are blood hemorrhage, unconsciousness, and irregular heartbeat. The aconite cannot be working alone. It must be reacting to something!” 

Livingston rubbed his palms together and a ginger aura enveloped his hands. He moved them along Oswin’s body and, as he passed his shaking hands across the unicorn’s broad chest, his stomach turned. A metallic taste coasted his tongue. Doctor Crane touched deftly at his chest and a sharp pain gripped his flank. 

“Pariche venom!” Livingston cried. “Not just wolfsbane, but a venom! Okay, think! The Pariche is a nocturnal arachnid whose venom targets the nervous system. Combine that with the aconite fibers and we have a the most potent toxin in the Abnormal world. No need for that, right?” 

Livingston laughs as he rechecks Oswin’s vitals. The unicorn’s breathing slowed to an imperceptible huff and the doctor rubbed his temples. 

“I injected him with a sample of trial forty-seven which contains metallic honey, Dragon’s Blood, Asper’s Cashmere, a neutralized aconite extract and twenty-seven milligrams of Euphorium!” 

Livingston dashed into his laboratory and frantically rummaged through a small refrigerator until he found a beaker stoppered with a spherical stone cork. The liquid inside, and its thick fibers, clung to the neck of its container. The beige concoction hung like a spiderweb. He jammed the beaker into his lab coat pocket and spun around to the luxuriant belladonna plant. 

Its bruised violet blooms opened and closed when it grumbled at him. Livingston’s narrow laboratory vibrated with the acidic echoes of the voluminous plant's primal tones. 

“Bella, love, I need some bulbs. Please.” cooed Livingston. “I need your help to save my—my friend.” 

Belladonna softened. Thin green stalks dipped into his cupped hands and sprouted spiraling double-sided bulbs in decadent aubergine and glowing white hues. The soft, snowy floweret sizzled in his ungloved hand. Livington used the hem of his shirt as a napkin between the acidulous flower and his skin. The violet bloom, however, cozied up again his shaking thumb. 

“I owe you one, Bella!” The doctor exclaimed!  

He yanked the mortar and pestle from its perch on a high shelf and raced back to Oswin’s side where the unicorn thrashed wildly. Livingston instructed a set of creeper plants to hold Oswin in place and they slid over his muscles. They hugged him tightly around the middle and Oswin’s writhing body stilled. 

Livingston dumped all the ingredients into this stone bowl and pushed his weight against the handle until the bulbs turned to pulp.  

“Perhaps if I make a universal antibody, it’ll catch whatever venom this is on a molecular level. These herbs should intersect the toxin. I just need a carrier with a serious kick!” He mused. 

A lengthy, long-stemmed plant budded to an appetizing green under his nose. Tiny chutes sprouted at oblong angles and produced a crop of dome-shaped petals with thick antennae jutting from its center. The petals quickly matured to brilliant white and crimson tones. The bulb snapped from the stem and careened into Livingston’s bowl. 

“Perfect!” Livingston called. “Enchanter’s Herb is just what I needed! 

He crushed the plants until a dark liquid swirled in the stone basin. The pungent odor reached his nose long before the heady pink steam curled from the antidote. Livingston thrust the bowl to Oswin’s quivering lips and his body seized as the simmering elixir passed down his throat. His body relaxed and his everchanging eyes open. His emerald, green gaze found Livingston as he sat up and he coughed as the last of the antidote passed into his system. 

“Gods, that’s terrible.” Oswin winced. “Next time let me die. Ugh, magic be damned.” 

“That was science, Oswin.” Livingston said. “And I’m sure you’ve had worse. 

Oswin squeezed his hand and Livingston blanched. He was unsure when he laced his shaking fingers through Oswin’s cold grip, but he withdrew it and let his shaking hand fall to his side. 

“I am grateful for you...and your science.” Oswin said. “It, and you, saved my lives.” 

“Lives?” Livingston questioned. “Whatever. I’m happy you’re alive.” 

“As am I.” Oswin laughed. “I owe you a great deal, Doctor. It was your voice which held me to this existence even in the presence of the God Black. I will not forget what you have done for me, Doctor Crane.” 

“Call me Livingston.” 

[luckyluan]

Chapter 5.3

A snug breeze set the room aflutter. The mellow light of Livingston’s townhouse brightened to an impossible golden hue. A trickle of condensation slipped down his spine and the scent of other fresh flowers blossomed under his widened nostrils. He inhaled the sweet spring airs now tinged with notes of peonies, freesias, and rose as the floor began to rumble. 

He and Oswin jumped out of their chairs as the thick vines cracked the concrete foundation of his home. They burst through the floorboards with their reaching green limbs. The succulent green vines cascaded through his rooms and wrapped themselves around his furniture. They climbed the walls. They burrowed themselves deep into the ceiling of the first floor and coiled around his tricky stairs as they claimed the patched wooden railing as their lattice. Rich and reaching plants ensnared the wooden rods into their winding schemes and disappeared upstairs. 

The amber light adopted a lush viridescent tint and pulsed against his suffocating walls. Vines writhed in ceremonial concord and flowered colossal petals from a haze of coruscated dew which seeped into the air ducts. The humid air wicked Livingston’s skin and brought him to life. He felt the hum of every petal growing in his house. The trunks of climbing inflorescences whispered to him while they slurped the moisture from the air and the same familiar breeze sheathed his form like an additional layer of skin. It hugged him around the middle and tickled his spine. 

“What happening?” Livingston’s voice echoed. 

“You offered sanctuary to one of her sacred creatures.” Oswin answered. “There is no greater honor than to protect her chosen symbol. Wryth—flora godhead, Mother of Growth, and Protector of Unicorns—has expanded your abnormalities as reward.” 

“I feel everything!” Livingston moaned. “I can feel the wisteria blooming from the rafters upstairs in my room. I even feel the rose climbers winding around my chimney outside; and the air...it’s so full. I feel like I can...” 

His second skin tightened around his body and the doctor’s feet left the ground. He gasped and floated to the ceiling without a second thought. 

“You can fly.” Oswin smiled. “I’ve not seen a Naturalist do that in some time.” 

“But I stopped using my powers earlier this year. I thought they were gone!” Livingston wheezed. 

His head pressed into the ceiling and his power blossomed through his veins. He focused on collapsing his power into a small knot and descended. His feet touched the floor, and Oswin grabbed him around the waist as he stumbled over the rippling foliage growing too fast from his foundation. 

“I can fly.” Livingston exclaimed. 

“Your astonishment tells me this is a new development.” Oswin suspected. 

“My mom taught me to levitate when I was younger. She always told me gravity was a mortal chain, but I never thought I could fly!” Livingston celebrated. 

“Perhaps your abnormality—your magic—grew as you did.” Oswin said. “Perhaps you can use them again.” 

“Why?” Livingston asked. 

His smile faded when his bright eyes focused on the bulb of bronze blood trickling from Oswin’s wide set nostrils. The slow bleed spilled over his onyx beard and his eyes dimmed to a vacant black. Oswin buckled into Livingston’s arms and the pair collapsed to the dining room floor in a heap of limbs. Soft flowers curled around them, and slim roots lowered wilted petals in oblong shapes low over the doctor and his unconscious patient. Their fragrant air wafted the scent of Death into his nostrils and Livingston’s stomach turned. 

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 5.2

Livingston pressed his lips into a fine line and Oswin’s playful gaze tickled his skin. The unicorn saw through him, and the feeling was not entirely unpleasant. He lowered a steel grate over his emotions after his mother’s death and it alienated him from his family and friends. He hated it, but it was necessary. He, now, sat before one of the only people who dared call him out on his behavior. Oswin’s eyes pierced his fortress—raised the gate high into the sky and allowed the unicorn to witness the tempestuous ochres of his emotional storm. 

He picked at the vegetables on the north side of his plate and Oswin searched for his gaze. He wrapped his dark knuckles on the table and Livingston’s dark expression sent Oswin’s eyebrows high onto his forehead. 

“So, what is it?” 

Livingston’s tone mirrored his hardened face. His analytical mask fell into place, and he used his shrewd intellect to dissect Oswin’s intentions. He wanted answers to his question. Why had all this happened?” 

“Pardon me?” Oswin inserted. 

“You show up in an Abnormal man’s garden and get off an herb I know you’ve encountered before. I would hope after five hundred years, you have the ability to know wolfsbane when you see it! You stated you were here for a purpose. I would like to know what it is...” 

Oswin’s face turned to stone. His bushy eyebrows descended over his luminous eyes which withered to a mercurial silver; and his pronounced jaw locked into place. 

“You misunderstand. What I told you was true.” said the unicorn. 

“You magical ass liar.” Livingston grunted. “You mean to tell me you’ve been—this—for five hundred of them thangs and you can’t identify wolfsbane?! That’s Abnormal 101. I learned it in my mom’s garden at age seven. Who are you and what do you want?!” 

Oswin ran his tongue across his bottom lip. He rubbed the index fingers of both hands against their respective thumbs and his silver eyes darted up and down Livingston’s heated expression. 

“I am Oswin.” the unicorn began. 

His tone was somber. It sounded as if the truth pained him. A cold sensation ran up the backs of Livingston’s knees and he suppressed a shudder as Oswin continued. 

“Fifth tier witch. Mystic pillar of Abnormalkind. And I need your protection.” 

“From what? Unicorns have no natural enemies.” Livingston explained. 

“True, but much like us our enemies are not normal. They are evil—sinistre, in fact. We have highly coveted properties. Our hair, teeth, hooves, nails, bones, our—umm—specimen. Nonetheless, it is common for us to be the subject of The Hunt though it is illegal.” 

“That’s right. Unicorns are on the Endangered being list.” Livingston remembered. 

“Indeed.” Oswin corroborated. “My species was hunted to near extinction during the seventeen hundreds, and it is not an era we wish to revisit. We often seek sanctuary with naturalists such as yourself. There is a great Abnormal rescue shelter here in Morgan run by an Abnormal family with the last name St. James. It’s where most of my kind reside now.” 

Oswin’s voice trailed off and so did Livingston’s restless mind. His skin prickled and he sat up a little straighter. He took a deep breath and reached for Oswin’s hand. His fingers slipped into the unicorn’s rough, shaking fingers and Oswin gently closed his hand around Livingston’s palm. 

“I’m sorry. I had no idea your kind was still being hunted.” Livingston said.  

“Thank you for your sympathy. As I said, my kind are drawn to naturalists. I assume you are a Naturalist under this analytical facade.” Oswin chided. “May you offer me sanctuary that I may be safe from those who wish me harm? 

A familiar sensation descended onto Livingston’s shoulders and the feeling drew a gasp from his lips. He felt his mother’s hands on his shoulders softly kneading his high and tense shoulders with her soft touch. The scent of her jasmine perfume drifted under his nose and a whisper of her laughter ran the length of the room. The wooden table inflated, and the air filled to the brim with anticipation. Livingston closed his eyes against the pooling tears and gave his answer. 

“I offer you sanctuary.” he announced. 

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 5.1

“Sure. Yeah, sure.” Livingston whispered. “No! I mean, no! Clothes are not optional!” 

He cleared his throat and sidled into the hall. His back scraped against the wall as he inched by Oswin and he jogged up the hallway. He ducked through the narrow door of his laundry room and grabbed the first items on top of the heap of clean clothes. 

He tucked a faded blue Brimmens Multiversity sweatshirt and a pair of white linen pants under his arm and dashed back to Oswin. The unicorn now stood on his toes while he rummaged through the high kitchen cabinets. His towel dipped at the small of his back and Livingston prayed for Oswin’s deep exhalation. 

“You know, unicorns may not have any active abnormalities, but we know when someone is staring at us.” Oswin teased. 

“Sorry.” Livingston muttered. “Here you go.” 

“Why do I need those?” Oswin smirked. “We both prefer me like this. Perhaps you are overdressed.” 

His eyes shimmered a fiery orange, and he folded his arms across his sculpted chest. The green and white striped towel teased the doctor from his midsection, and he trained his eyes on Oswin’s face which broke into a huge smile. 

“I just.” Oswin said. “Thank you. Your generosity is appreciated.” 

“I’m not that generous.” Livingston answered. “They belonged to my ex.” 

Oswin slipped the linen pants under his flapping towel and hiked them up around his bulging thighs. The towel fell away, and he pulled the drawstrings into a strong knot.  

Livingston watched Oswin’s pectoral muscles flex when he lowered the sweatshirt over his head. He pushed his arms through the sleeves, swept his hair out of the collar, and dusted himself off for good measure. 

“Better.” Oswin said. “Though clearly a man of lower intelligence, your ex must have been a man of grand stature.” 

“How old are you?” Livingston inquired. 

“Heh! Let’s just say I got my driver’s permit on Dragon back.” Oswin laughed. 

“Dragon back? You were serious about the five hundred years...” Livingston asked. 

“Yes. And the magic—uh, abnormal bits as well, being complicated.” Oswin sighed. “I assure you I mean no harm. My kind are passive. We spend most of our lives in mythic form searching for kindness—for gentility...” 

Oswin answered, not his words, but the fear in the doctor’s eyes and Livingston was grateful. He feared he did not have the words to form any coherent questions. 

“You think I’m a genuine person?” Livingston chuckled. 

“You must be!” Oswin exclaimed. “Purity seeks purity. Something about you is genuine enough for my abnormality—as you call it—to reveal my truest natures. Quite misguided, but genuine nonetheless.” 

“Thank you?” Livingston answered. “Ummm...The food is ready.” 

.... 

Livingston’s knee knocked against the underside of his small wooden table. He stared at Oswin who sat across the table with his attention transfixed on the burger in front of him. 

“This is food now?” he admonished. 

“Shit. Are you vegan or something?” Livingston asked.  

“What? No. I am a carnivore. I can smell the chemicals in this. Did you make this? Is this your regular diet?” 

“Nope. And it's your regular diet when you don’t cook. Bonne appetite.” Livingston chided. “I’m a doctor. I don’t really have time to cook like a normal person. It’s already cost me a relationship.” 

“The normalcy or the lack of kitchen prowess?” Oswin asked. 

“Pick one.” Livingston scoffed. 

“I thought normalcy was your desire...” Oswin prodded. 

“I don’t want to be normal. I just don’t want to be Abnormal anymore. After my mom, I—i just can’t.” Livingston stammered. 

“I did not mean to dredge old memories.” Oswin murmured. “My apologies. 

The unicorn’s eye brightened to an earnest blue. The collar of his navy Brimmens sweatshirt sagged around his neck. He swept his locs out of the neckline and they clapped against his skin back with a heavy thud.  

“It’s okay. Can we change the subject though?” I have questions if you’re up for it.” Livingston nudged. 

“Anything for you. Ask away.” Oswin encouraged. 

“I’m sort of out of touch with the Abnormal—umm, magical—community aside from a few friends. So, forgive me if some of these are insensitive. How do you identify?” Livingston started. 

“How do you mean ‘identify?’” Oswin asked. 

“Do you identify as a man? An animal?” Livingston clarified. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever given it much thought. For as long as I can remember I have embraced my many journeys and lessons and can only refer to myself as Oswin.” he mused. “To answer your question, however, I am very much a man. I am also an Abnormal creature. I am also a witch. I’m not sure that clarifies anything.” 

Oswin filled the silence with a shy chuckle. Livingston dropped his gaze to his plate of vegetables. He focused on the steam curling high above his head and swallowed the lump in his throat as a thought struck him. 

“You contradict yourself. Those are three separate things!” 

The floor beneath Livingston’s feet rumbled with mighty reverberations as Oswin’s shoulders shook. Livingston’s confused expression melted as Oswin found the breath for speech. 

“You are quite deliberately ignorant, Doctor Crane!” Oswin snickered. “And so judgmental—as are most of you humans.” 

“But you just told me you were human!” Livingston countered. 

“No, I said I was Abnormal. I never said I was human, and it is not your place to tell me what I can and cannot be. Or anyone for that matter. Your science clouds your sight. You delve into the world your experiments in search of explanation for a magical world.” Oswin declared. “I am all. I am each one. I exist in these forms simultaneously.” 

“That...is fair.” Livingston conceded. 

“Live a few more centuries and the world you love will reveal itself to you.” 

Livingston jerked his hand away from Oswin as he reached for him and cradled his hand to his chest. 

“You are afraid.” Oswin surmised. 

“After the year I’ve had, sha, I’m not afraid of anything. I did let a unicorn into my house after all.” Livingston teased. 

“Then why can I sense your fear, Doctor.” Oswin asked. “Fear of being touched...being understood. Is that why you bury yourself in the world of human logic?” 

“Hey, I’m not going to read your mind. So, please don’t read mine. I don’t need a psychoanalysis. I’m the doctor.” Livingston chirped. 

“A doctor is not what I suggest.” Oswin grinned. 

[luckyluan]

Chapter 4.3

Livingston made out Oswin’s silhouette while he moved a bar of soap up his enormous thigh. He tore his eyes away and crept across the hardwood floor into his bedroom and unplugged his phone. The phone unlocked with a soft click after he held it at eye level for several seconds and he dialed his best friend’s phone number. The line connected after three rings and Livingston launched into speech. 

“Oh, thank God!” Livingston whispered. “There’s a unicorn in my shower, Canaan!” 

“Why are you whispering? Wait, a unicorn? Like a unicorn unicorn?” Canaan asked. 

“Yes, nigga! A fairy princess, magic kingdom, king of the forest, glistening Black man is using up all my hot water.” Livingston explained. 

“Well tell him to turn it off! Your water bill is already high as hell!” 

Livingston puffed out an annoyed grunt while Canaan laughed. Several minutes passed before his best friend regained his composure. Livingston rolled his eyes. He dropped the smartphone by his side and back to his ear. Livingston swept back across the shadowy hallway and down his creaking staircase. 

“Are you high?” he interrogated. 

“Yes. And you’re calling to tell me you got some. I’m proud of you! You calling dude a unicorn already is a good sign. He must be magical.” Canaan chortled. 

“No, negro!” Livingston hissed. “I am calling to tell you there is a unicorn—a goddamn horse with an antenna—clogging my shower drain with the most incredible head of hair I have ever seen. Canaan Amari Blanchard, say something!” 

“Okay, okay. Calm down, for Bae’s sake. Unicorns are benevolent as far as I know. They spend most of their lives in mythic form seeking genuine companionship. Most of them never find it and resolve themselves to solitude. It—he—found you for a reason, Liv; and if he shifted for you, that is a really good thing.” 

Livingston let the knife slip through his fingers, and it clattered into the sink with a sharp shriek. He put his head in his hands and filled his lungs with the scalding Morgan air. 

“It’s a tremendous honor,” Canaan explained. “Look, I gotta go, Liv. Cameron is trying to conjure himself a new truck in my room. Take a deep breath. Ride the wave. Unicorns are an extremely good omen. Love you.” 

Livingston tucked his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. He rinsed off the knife and set it in its wooden sheath near his unused oven. He yanked the refrigerator door open, and the cool air stung his sweat stained face as he touched his forehead to the tallest shelf. 

“Pardon me.” Oswin called. 

Livingston’s head knocked against the refrigerator���s ceiling when he heard Oswin’s voice. He caressed the back of his head as he turned to the melodious sound. Oswin stood in his kitchen wrapped in his striped towel. His chiseled form dripped pools of shower water onto an ocean-colored floor mat; and his frizzy locs clung to his skin. 

The unicorn’s serene face split into a mischievous grin when he caught Livingston’s roving eyes. The doctor traced a line from Oswin’s navel up to his shifting eyes. 

“Is clothing optional in your home?” Oswin asked. 

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 4.2

“But you don’t have to be ashamed of your DNA either.” Oswin countered. 

“You know what, we’re not doing this. You are not supposed to be here and there will be no naked men in my house especially if we aren’t--you just can’t be here.” Livingston finished. 

He snatched the broom from its leaning perch on the wall and jabbed at Oswin until he moved toward the patio doors. Livingston snapped at him until the unicorn jumped backward over the threshold and held out his hands in caution. 

“I can’t leave yet!” Oswin exclaimed. 

“Why the hell not?” Livingston whined. 

“Because I found you for a reason, Doctor Crane. Despite our tumultuous beginnings I am certain I am present as a reminder of some sort. I must figure out what. We must.” Oswin concluded. 

“Oh, I’ve figured it out, Oswin. You found me because you were hungry. Our tumultuous beginnings are because you’re a thief. And you are the perfect reminder of why I am never going back to the Abnormal world. Too much drama. Did I miss anything?” Livingston hissed. 

“You are right, Doctor Crane. I found you because I was hungry. I found your wolfsbane too.” Oswin said. “It is legal, is not? To grow, I mean. I’m pretty sure I still have a friend or two in Perliament who would love to know about your...science.” 

“Y-you’re blackmailing me?!” Livingston squeaked. 

Oswin wagged his bushy eyebrows. He, now, stood with the blanket suspended in lumpy drapes from his forearm and his black skin gleamed under Livingston’s yellow porchlight. His chest rose and fell with even breaths and Livingston fumed. He could take a chance and send Oswin away, but his houseguest’s smirk suggested he was being truthful. Livingston softened. 

“Fine.” he conceded. “In. But don’t you dare sit your bare ass on my couch.” 

Livingston stood aside and Oswin squeezed beside him with a wide grin. The doctor shut and locked the door before he turned back to the unicorn.  

“The couch is the thing you were going to strike me with, right?” Oswin mocked. “I’m joking, I’m joking. Ummm...about food...” 

“I’ll figure out the food situation. You desperately need a shower. You smell like a barn and you’re tracking mud into my house. Please tell me you know--” Livingston fussed. 

“--I know what a shower is, my friend, and I thank you for your hospitality.” Oswin acknowledged. 

“Up the stairs, last door on the hall, towels in the closet. Use whatever you need.” Livingston sighed. 

Oswin bent his knees to the ground in a graceful bow before he turned for the stairs. The blanket tantalized him when it flapped between the bare skin of Oswin’s muscular thighs. The doctor bit down on his bottom lip as Oswin disappeared ono the second floor. He wandered into the kitchen and pressed his back against the steel door of his refrigerator. 

“Please let this be a dream.” he mused. 

Livingston flexed each finger as he counted the correct number of digits. His heartbeat spiked and reality pressed down on his shoulders. An Abnormal stranger was in his home, and, after the last year of his life, that was a terrifying thought. A spindly prickle licked the back of his neck when he thought about Oswin skulking in the shadows. He imagined Oswin with a sharp knife raised over his head and a crazed expression in his eye. Livingston flinched as his imagination conjured an image of Oswin’s massive arms as they lashed out from the inky shadows. His eyes widened. 

“Fuck.” he grunted. “I’m so stupid!” 

He snatched a meat cleaver by its worn wooden handle free of the knife block and sidled up the stairs on the tips of his toes. The only sliver of light on the dark landing came from the end of the hall where the door to the guest bathroom lay ajar.

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 4.1

The former unicorn took his hand, bent low, and planted a warm kiss on his knuckles. A flutter ran through Livingston’s stomach when Oswin’s supple lips connected with his skin. It felt right. A warm breeze ran the length of his odd-shaped den, and he cleared his throat for good measure. 

“Charmed. Listen, I have several questions, and they are as follows: How are you a unicorn? Have you always been able to shift like this? Where did you come from? How are you a unicorn and a man?” Livingston finished. 

“Magic. Not extinct, but reclusive. Five hundred years give or take a decade. Only in cases of exceptional kindness as you have shown to me. I’m not sure how to answer that. And my existence is complicated.” Oswin fired back. “My turn. Mortals usually—how do you say—lose their shit when they meet me. How are you so calm?” 

“Who said I was mortal?” Livingston chided. “And are these mortals aware of your narcissism or is that something you typically keep under wraps?” 

“What you call narcissism I call centuries of auspicious effervescence; and if you are not mortal, what type of Abnormal are you?” Oswin inquired. 

“Who said I was Abnormal?” Livingston challenged again. “Okay, fine, I’m...I’m, technically, Abnormal. But I don’t want to be!” 

“Why is that, Doctor Crane?” Oswin mused. 

“Because--it’s a long story and I’m not telling it to the strange and naked man occupying my grandmother’s quilt. Listen, you have to go!” Livingston charged. 

“You spoke to me.” Oswin began. “In my head. After I ate those godforsaken herbs, you communicated with me telepathically. You’re a Naturalist!” 

“Keep your voice down!” Livingston whispered. “That is not something I want known.” 

They stared at each other, and Livingston absentmindedly stroked the knuckle where Oswin’s chivalrous lips charged his skin with a long-forgotten sensation. Oswin’s eyes held him in a chocolate-colored trance. 

“Magic is actually not as complicated as I made it seem, Doctor Crane, as I am sure you well know. Most witches have mythical forms—at least the eldest bloodlines do. May I trouble you for some actual, non-poisonous food before we continue this enlightening conversation? 

On cue, Oswin’s stomach grumbled a disruptive moan, and Livingston’s eyebrows shot high onto his forehead. 

“Food...” he mused. 

“I may not take human form often, but I take it that is something you would have in your...refrigerator?” Oswin nudged. 

Livingston only stared. He swayed back and forth as he assessed the man’s chiseled body. Oswin held Livingston’s quilt in front of his privates the way a toddler would hold a vegetable. He pinched the blanket between his thumb and forefinger and allowed the dense fabric to gather in its arranged reams until its dingy fringe tickled the tops of his bare feet. 

His matted locs twisted freely around his bare waist. Oswin’s luminous smile shook him from his stupor. The unicorn’s thick lips separated, and his cheeks peeled back to reveal the full wattage of his remarkable white smiled. Some of his teeth lay stained with purple pigment and the sight reactivated Livingston’s brain. 

“Right. Food. Yes. Ummm...wait, how do I know you’re not some lunatic slender who wants my powers?” Livingston aimed at him. 

“Do you want your powers?” Oswin replied. “I assure you; there is nothing to fear. Rest assured that my magic lies in my very being—as does yours. I am innately magical—or Abnormal, as you would say.” 

“You keep up with us—the Abnormal world, I mean?” Livingston quizzed 

“Well, yes! I, myself, am Abnormal though the term does not ring like the other. ‘Magical’ just had a certain light about it...” Oswin trailed off. “...I fear I’ve broken you.” 

“This isn’t happening.” Livingston hissed. “This was fun or whatever, but I can’t--you can’t--I’m normal now.” 

“I’m not sure I understand.” Oswin admitted. 

“I’m normal now.” Livingston repeated. “I don’t want to be Abnormal. I don’t use my powers. I don’t find unicorns in my garden!” 

“...of magical herbs.” Oswin finished. 

“That’s different! I use them for science! I’m helping people and you are leaving!” 

“What is science but logical mysticism, my friend?” Oswin smiled. 

“Science. It’s still science and we are not friends. You—and all seven feet of your glorious height—are a thief!” Livingston shouted. 

“And a unicorn.” Oswin grinned. 

Oswin covered his face with his hand, but his smile was too wide as Livingston flicked his hands at him.  

“What?” Livingston charged. 

“You look ridiculous.” Oswin laughed. “Why are you trying to get rid of me? Do you hate yourself that much? How long have you been pretending to be normal?” 

Oswin’s questions caught him off guard. Livingston stood under the unicorn’s watchful violent gaze flustered. His tongued refused cooperation and he worked overtime to stammer out his rebuttal. 

“I am normal.” he emphasized. 

“You are not.” Oswin teased. “You’re the literal opposite!” 

“You sound like a friend of mine. I didn’t make my DNA. So...” Livingston trailed off. 

[luckyluan]

Chapter Three

Livingston stood with his mouth agape. He was no stranger to Abnormal creatures but her swore off his abnormality early last year. He tossed his powers in his mother’s grave before the loose soil rolled off her oak coffin; and the kingdom of his childhood fell to ruin. That was also the day he turned instead to the firm, explainable world of science. Now, the glittering magical creature lay sprawled on its back with its wild, braided mane in its bright eyes. 

“How the fuck?” he started. “No, no, no. This is not happening. I’m done with this! How did you get here?!” 

The unicorn huffed a high-pitched whine and Livingston buckled. 

“Ugh! Fine.” 

Livingston laid a hand on its slender neck. His disbelief melted into oblivion when he stroked the unicorn’s fine, shimmering black hair. 

The animal nodded and struggled to its feet. It towered over the doctor at its full height and Livingston—with a height of six feet and two inches—was doused in its vast shadow. The unicorn swayed precariously as it wobbled toward the open patio door and ducked its head under the door frame. Livingston cocked his head to one side as the unicorn’s black pelt cast a radiant glare through the darkness. 

“When Canaan told me to have fun, this is not what I had in mind.” 

Livingston whispered to the dark sky. The unicorn, suddenly, collapsed to the hardwood floor and the doctor rushed inside. He locked all three deadbolts with a practiced motion and switched on the lights. He knelt next to him and the doctor’s keen eye latched onto the violet pigment which dripped from the unicorn’s mouth. Livingston looked at his knuckle and the problem struck him with a sharp gasp. 

“Oh, shit! You ate my wolfsbane!” Livingston exclaimed. “This is fantastic! Umm...sorry, hold on!” 

He ran into the kitchen. He threw open the refrigerator door and there, on the bottom shelf, were a row of vials filled with a flowing lilac concoction. The unicorn watched him carefully as he snatched two viols off the bottom rack and filled the syringe to the brim with their contents. Livingston communicated assuaged the unicorn’s panicked expression with no spoken words. 

“This is going to sting!” 

Livingston slid the syringe into the unicorn’s belly; and the majestic creature let loose a frightening neigh. The ancient animal seized, and its pelt began to glow. The doctor jumped back as his electricity failed. The lights dimmed and the radiant light shielded the unicorn from view. Magic sparks swaddled them, and the room filled, to the ceiling, with energy. 

“Oh, no! What did I do? Someone’s gonna see!” 

Livingston hopped over the couch and wedged his pounding head between his knees as the blinding light reached its peak. A fluid and whimsical pop suddenly plunged the room, once more, into darkness. 

Doctor Crane peaked over the couch. The lights flickered back on, and a lustrous man stood where the unicorn lay moments before. The lights flitted on, and Livingston sprang to his feet. He armed himself with a heavy lamp and stalked closer. He lifted it like a baseball and a small tug dislodged the lamp from its outlet. 

“Whoever you are,” Livingston called. “You have ten seconds to get the hell out of my house! Before I call the police—or—or animal control? Who are you?” 

His smooth dark skin was the color of oil—the exact color of the unicorn’s pelt. His locs, matted with leaves and tree bark, lay sprawled out before him like a coiled rug. A thick layer of grime ensconced his chiseled physique in a dizzying pattern of filth. Livingston shuddered. 

“Naked.” the man said. “Very, very naked. Are you going to hit me with that?” 

“Maybe.” Livingston warned. “Depends on how long it takes you to get the fuck out of my house!” 

“You invited me in!” the unicorn defended. “Now you want to whack me with furniture dressings and cast me out!” 

“I--I helped! I didn’t know you would turn into—into some gorgeous Black man with a luscious head of hair—never mind! You need to leave! Shift back and get missing!” 

“Wait! At least allow me the courtesy of explanation. I feel I owe you as much.” The man pled. 

Livingston’s curiosity was piqued, but this much chaos was sure to draw unwanted attention. The unicorn’s transformation could have shut off the power for his entire neighborhood and this was not something he wanted to explain to his mortal neighbors. The hefty ceramic lamp slid through his fingers and onto the sofa’s indented cushions. He exchanged the lamp for the patchwork quilt draped across the couch’s tattered back and held it out to the naked man. Livingston turned his head to the wall and bit down on his lip. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” said the unicorn. “I am not sure how I am to repay you nor am I certain I should as it was your devilish garden which wounded me.” 

“Hold up.” Livingston held up a hand. “You found yourself in my garden. How is that my fault?” 

“I did not expect a mortal to be planting poisonous herbs, now, did I? No apples. No citrus. Just murderous, purple leaves.” 

“Let’s go back.” Livingston demanded. “You’re a unicorn.” 

“Correct. I am also man.” the unicorn explained. “And my name is Oswin.” 

“Doctor Crane.” Livingston quipped. 

The dark man looked him over and an unnaturally white smile gleamed behind his supple curling lips. 

“The pleasure is indeed mine, Doctor Crane.” 

[luckyluan]

Chapter Two

Livingston’s mind was never idle. His thoughts were constantly consumed with his research and herb quantification. He found extraordinarily little need for social interaction. He thought most human interaction could be summed into two categories: the conversations we desire and the conversations we avoid and often chose the latter. 

He now lay rigid on a grim gram couch with his wide eyes glued to his television screen. The remote dangled precariously from one hand while the other rested beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. He was determined to prove Canaan wrong, so he considered this a research experiment—a hypothesis he needed to prove. 

“This is torture.” he groaned. 

His eyes darted to his laboratory—the hall closet adorned with a red oak door and golden handle—and he bit his lip. Doctor Crane’s ambition was to transmute wolfsbane into a cure for lycanthronoma and he believed he was on the precipice of discovery. The time flashed from the corner of the screen, and he curled his fingers into a tight fist. 

He puffed out his frustration and slid lower onto the couch cushions. Livingston mashed the remote buttons and his oversized television flitted through show recommendations. His first year of graduate studies was the last time he followed a show from start to finish. It was not a habit he wished to cultivate. So, Livingston tossed the remote onto his circular coffee table and hopped over the back of his couch. 

He threw open the closet door and pushed his arms through his white lab coat hanging just inside the door. The room glowed with a blue light and the long closet transformed into a sterile lab. 

“Home, sweet home.” he murmured. “This is my fun.” 

Livingston swept up and down the long closet and read thermometers. He adjusted warming lamps attached to warbling plants which quieted as their leaves touched the light. His gloved hands moved deftly across tablets as he scribbled his notes, and he sniffled when a plump green vine stroked his cheeks. Its violent white bulbs sizzled against his skin. 

“Not now, Bella. I am almost done.” 

Livingston nudged the growling plans, and it withdrew its stinging vines into its deep ceramic blue pot. Bella grumbled her displeasures as Livingston searched for an empty viol. He inspected one after the other until he dropped the last claimed viol back into its space with an irritated huff. 

“No aconite...out we go.” he said. “Be right back, Bella!” 

The doctor grabbed an empty syringe and marched to the patio door. He pushed outside as he twirled the lithe syringe in his hand and stopped in his tracks. The plants sighed when he stepped to the rose quartz bordered edge. The blackened blooms growled in the darkness and shone their faint lights onto a unicorn.  

Its glittering coat absorbed the faint porchlight and made the enormous animal impossible to see until it opened its eyes. A glossy black horn—etched with a rhythm of organic symbols—the length of a ruler sprouted from its forehead. The creature looked directly into his eyes and Livingston’s heart skipped a beat. The doctor’s astonishment stemmed from the unicorn’s piercing eyes. Its great eyes blazed electric blue and Livingston was sure it cried for help.

[luckyluan]

Chapter 1.

“What I’m saying is: I’m normal now, Canaan!” he insisted.  

Dr. Livingston Crane threw himself against the door of his townhouse and slid to the floor in a heap of grocery bags and textbooks. The cap of his California Farms Oatmilk popped off the container and he heaved a heavy sigh as the viscous liquid emptied itself onto his organic chemistry textbook. 

“You can’t just be normal.” Canaan countered. “You’re the literal opposite, Liv! You’re Abnormal and you’re the most powerful Naturalist I’ve ever seen. Mama Liliana thought so too.” 

“Well, she’s not here anymore, and I can be whatever I want.” Livingston hissed. “Besides I gave all that up when she passed. I couldn’t save her with my Abnormal powers, so I’m not Abnormal anymore. 

“I get it, Liv. I do. I felt the same way after my pops passed. He taught us everything we know about who we are, and I wasn’t half as powerful as you are! I still wanted to quit!” Canaan whispered. “But we can’t stop being who we are because things get hard. We are born special. Our Abnormalities are our pride, bro! You’re special!” 

“My degrees make me special. My work is my pride. And my research makes me normal. I like my life this way.” Livingston replied. 

“What life, Liv? You don’t come out with us anymore. You don’t date. You don’t do anything but fuss with that creepy Belladonna plant and that godforsaken garden—which I am certain violates five Perliament statutes at minimum. We miss you, man! You have to have some fun! Your life can’t be all about foliage!” 

“Why not?!” Livingston whined. 

“Cause you ain’t no damn house plant, Livingston! You’re a doctor—an actual Doctor of Medicine—not a paper doctor like me. You’ll save humankind after you get some! How long has it been, bro? Be honest.” Canaan chided. 

“Excuse me!” Livingston said. “I still have a roster.” 

“Lies.” challenged his friend. 

“I do!” The doctor defended. 

“Who then?” 

“That cute guy from LSU, Tre. The one with the cornrows I took to Greek formal!” Livingston stammered. 

‘Nigga, that was entry year at Brimmens for us and we graduated three years ago!” Canaan exclaimed. 

Livingston curled his knees into his chest. He lay on the floor with his sleek smartphone sandwiched between the hardwood floor and his ear. A pack of peas defrosted against his calf as his leg jumped. 

“Fine. It’s been a while! So, what?” he defended. 

“So, what? --So, what? You’re wound tighter than that the spool of magic thread that got us out of Harmon’s Haunted Labyrinth last Halloween!” Canaan teased. 

“I still think you should curse Nigel with uneven boobs for locking us down there with that minotaur...” Livingston murmured. 

“Quit whining. It was a baby. At least you could defend yourself. I didn’t have any actives, but we survived; and that’s my point, bro!” Canaan elaborated. “You don’t have any fun anymore! Man, I challenge you to have fun ass, good ass time for the next twenty-four hours. Watch some TV. Some something growing in that hellscape you call a garden, and don’t science shit!” 

Canaan took a deep breath and continued his rant. 

“Call one of these alleged players on your roster if you still have anything in that phone besides Happens All The Thai! Live your life, Livingston Crane!” 

“That’s Dr. Livingston Crane.” he corrected. “And fine. No work tonight.” 

“That’s my guy! Cam wants to hit Tate’s tonight. Wanna slide?” Canaan offered. 

“Ummm...I think I can find my own trouble.” Livingston mumbled. 

“I hope you do, man.” Canaan said. “Cause I would hate to put that picture of you and that leprechaun in the group message--” Canaan started. 

“--you said you deleted that!” Livingston scolded. 

“Being a witch has its perks. I knew this day would come and I am only doing this with your best interest at heart. Have fun tonight, my nigga. You deserve it. Wish on a star or something. I don’t think they’ve made that illegal yet. Love you, man.” 

The line disconnected and Livingston punched the air. He clambered to his feet and glanced around. He, then, waved, his hand through the air and the pool of oak milk retraced its steps. It unspilled into its blue carton and sealed itself with a soft pop. Livingston stepped over his organic chemistry book and headed for the kitchen. 

[luckyluan]

Tomorrow!

[luckyluan]

THE CROSSOVER CONTINUES!

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