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Laughter rang out in the street, echoing against stone walls and into the night beyond the light of the street lamps overhead. The night was beginning to roll into the late hours when daytime businesses closed their doors and late night businesses gained a new life.
It was during these hours that a group of four sharply-dressed people wandered down the street. Each of them were beautiful in their own right, with thick accents that differed as much from each other as their appearances.
“Did any of you catch the name of this town?” asked the redhead, their fingers idly playing with the choker around their neck.
“The sign back there said ‘Oakhurst’ so I reckon that’s it” said the man with an unnatural shade of blue hair.
“Never heard of it.” answered the brunette, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder.
“Well that’s because you aren’t from around here, Pearl.” Answered the blond man.
Pearl raised a hand to bat at the blond man’s head. “One day I’ll get you lot to Australia, you’ll see.”
The redhead turned their head back while continuing to walk forward. “Do the people taste different there?”
The blue-haired man scoffed. “Taste’s got more to do with diet and health rather than location, Cleo.”
“No, Cleo’s right.” said Pearl. “Their blood’s got an ever so slightly smokey aftertaste that’s hard to explain.”
The blond barked a laugh. “Smokey aftertaste? What are we eating steaks now?”
“Shut up Martyn, you know what I mean,” Pearl chided. “Scott, you’ve really never noticed a taste difference from different regions before?”
Scott shook his head. “I can’t say that I have. Then again I’m not as well-travelled as you are.”
Pearl shrugged. “Hm. I guess you’re right.”
The four of them passed businesses as they walked. Shopkeepers flipped their ‘closed’ signs on the door as their last patrons of the night went. As the lights slowly turned off one by one, one shop remained to illuminate the night.
Drawn in by both his curiosity and some other unfamiliar urge, Martyn walked ahead of the group to peer through the window.
The shop wasn’t particularly large from the outside, but inside, tall bookshelves lined the walls. A balcony followed the perimeter of the walls with a simple but delicate chandelier cascading through the center, transcending between the first and second floors. Through the ornate wooden rail balcony, Martyn could see more bookshelves lining the walls of the second floor along with a narrow spiral staircase at the rear of the shop to connect the two floors. Tall ladders on a metal track sat ready to use on the uppermost shelves, providing a way to reach even the tallest shelves.
On the leftmost side of the window, a man in a long, deep brown overcoat leaned an elbow on the counter with a thick collection of papers in his hand. His other hand gesticulated wildly as he wore a conspiratorial grin.
Standing on the other side of the counter, the shopkeeper seemed to be entertained by the boisterous man’s spiel. The sleeves of the shopkeeper’s shirt were rolled up to reveal toned forearms and the top two buttons below the shirtcollar were unfastened, teasing a bit of hair on the man’s broad chest. His arms were crossed loosely, like they were at rest rather than closing himself off. His long hair was streaked through with grey and held by an elastic band that sent it cascading over one of his shoulders.
Martyn stood there for a moment, watching the man with a nagging feeling that he looked familiar. ’Who would I know that wears a mustache like that,’ he thought to himself. The man’s round glasses sat over piercing blue eyes which crinkled as he smiled back at his patron, his greying mustache rising with the motion.
It was that smile, with those blue eyes, that told Martyn he knew exactly who this man was.
Martyn slowly turned his fixed gaze from the shop and toward his friends. “You guys are never gonna believe who’s in there.” A trio of confused, yet curious faces met his own and he simply…pointed into the shop. Scott, Cleo, and Pearl hurried over to look inside.
“Is that….is that Ren?” Cleo asked.
Pearl shielded her eyes from the street lamp as she looked through the window. “Oh wow, it really is him.”
Scott walked up beside Martyn and laid a hand on his shoulder and nodded toward the man in the shop. “Martyn, you know you can’t say anything to him. You can’t tell him who we are. Or who he is—well, was.”
Martyn swallowed and nodded. “I know. That doesn’t mean I can’t reintroduce myself,” said Martyn, slipping his shoulder from under Scott’s heavy palm.
“Martyn, wait—“ Scott called, his hand dropping to his side with nothing to hold it up any longer. He doubted that Martyn couldn’t hear him due to his superhuman hearing, so he knew that the blond was ignoring him.
“I mean can you blame him?” Cleo said. “If it was you in there, and I had the chance to reconnect despite you not remembering who I was, you know I would in a heartbeat.” At this, Scott sighed.
“Besides,” said Pearl, “As long as we make sure he doesn’t tell him anything he shouldn’t, we should be alright.”
With that, the three of them watched as the door swung closed behind Martyn and Ren looked up from where he was chatting with his patron. Martyn outstretched his hand when he reached him, ready to introduce himself to the man he loved for the first time.
Again