***
He comes to about half an hour later, just as we’re dragging him into Nick’s apartment and dropping him onto the couch.
In the harsh living room light, Moon blinks up at the three of us like he’s not sure if we’re real. Which—fair. The first thing he sees is a Squid Game guard, the Cat in the Hat, and Conan the Barbarian.
He squints hard, like he’s trying to blink the hallucination away, then opens his eyes again and mumbles, “Who the fuck are you?”
“You don’t remember?” I ask, arms crossed, stomach twisting.
His gaze snaps to me. He blinks, and his porcelain cheeks flush red.
“Where are we?” he says—like he just remembered the answer to the first question.
“At my place,” Nick says, dropping his giant hat on the floor and holding out a hand. “I’m Nick—Mark’s brother.”
I cringe on instinct, already bracing for whatever snarky reaction Moon’s about to deliver.
But to my surprise—
“I’m Sawyer,” he says, and takes Nick’s hand.
I stare.
Did my brother and my bully just shake hands?
“You know Mark and Eric?” Nick asks, nodding toward the two of us.
Moon glances at me, then lets his gaze land on Eric—lingering, like he doesn’t quite recognize him.
Told you. Out of uniform, Eric’s basically Clark Kent with his glasses on.
“Tolmachyov,” Eric says. “I’m with the Centaurs.”
That’s when Moon nods, like it finally clicks.
“How are you feeling?” Nick asks, settling onto the couch a couple feet away. “Any better?”
Moon shrugs, like he’s not sure, then frowns. “What am I doing here?”
“You don’t remember?” I ask again.
He shrugs, unsure.
“You got drugged at the gay club,” I tell him.
And okay—maybe I’m a terrible person, but the words gay club spark a weird little warmth in my chest. I mean, yeah, the guy got roofied—that’s awful. But now that I know he’s okay, I think I’m allowed a tiny bit of satisfaction that my homophobic bully is, in fact, gay. Right?
“Drugged?” Moon blinks at me, his face flushing deep red. “By who?”
“Some douchebag in a Joker costume,” Nick says, even though he never saw the guy. “You told Mark he spiked your drink.”
Moon looks at him, then back at me—and freezes, like he’s trying to piece something together. His gaze goes glassy. Then he turns back to Nick.
“Can I have some water?”
“Sure,” Nick says, already heading toward the kitchen area. He fills a glass and brings it back. “I can make you some tea too, if you’re up for it.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Moon says, though he still looks far away, lost in his own head.
