As dramatic and awfully loud his exit of the Cyber Grill had been, outside it was calm. A soft breeze flowed through the city. It cooled the hot air. Green lines swam through the sky as if they were the city’s pulse. Quiet chatter and walking was all around. Various darkners were heading home or out for fun much like his family the five addisons had. His feet had at first started to lead him to where his ‘home’ was. He’d actually gotten almost halfway there when he remembered. The past. 1997. Both his shop and the area he had claimed as his own were gone. Hours of set up, maintenance, redecorating, fighting to keep it as his spot. All of that. Meaningless. Anything not on his person lost to time, in a reverse way. It hadn’t been much. His telephone, spare worn out clothes, old bowties, broken down cars, and other random junk he collected… But it still hurt. It had been all his junk. Some bits stolen or just thrown away, but still all his. No one else’s.

So instead he walked about the city. Wandered around the shops and homes, reminiscing about the past that was now. He could actually go out in the open without anyone recognising him! It was nice to not hear the laughter and see the pointing from anyone who remembered the fallen Big Shot from his time of fame. No one here knew him. Sure, there were still faint whispers he could hear about himself. He couldn’t escape that with how he looked right now. But they weren’t knowing words. Only words about a stranger that looked rather suspicious just by how odd he was.

He wished he waited at the Cyber Grill to try stealing the conversation. He could have had something to eat, something fresh for the first time in several weeks at this point. Like always he didn’t think ahead nor wait. He jumped the gun and ran his mouth too much. 

The initial plan, if Kris fell through the end of their deal, was to use the money from the KEYGEN to buy a bunch of non-perishables. Maybe even a new blanket. His previous one had been getting to that ‘too ratty to be useful’ point. Perhaps some new pants, or maybe threads to fix what he already had? …Essential things were more important than nice clothes.

As it turned out, being in the past wasn’t so great for his head. He already had issues staying in reality. Now it was worse. Everything was the same because it was the same. Less of a static memory and more the real deal causing upset. He saw several places he knew at a point. One he remembered buying golden shirt buttons at, the first week of his riches. He still had those buttons— Well. He had had the buttons. Just another of many unexpected losses from time travel.

Oh look! Another place he recognised. A family owned sandwich shop that used to be his favourite before he had money for fancier places. They had closed years ago in mid 2005. Something about a chain running them out of business? He didn’t know the details. He’d only found out a few years later after finding it replaced. It wasn’t a concern back then, he was a might bit busier losing money too. Plus several parts of his body, which was more importantly distressing at the time. It turns out planning doesn’t matter if you unexpectedly get dumped in a certain river. He didn’t think he would need health insurance ever, given he had always been a very healthy addison.

A stray thought wondered if Mike planned that. Probably just paranoia, but… No matter what he’d tried, his entire company lulled a slow and painful death after their last call. Every bit of luck died with it. He wasn’t that god awful at being a business-person, was he?

A terrible ache in his stomach reminded him why the sandwich place had stopped him. It wasn’t just reminiscing. With as much confidence he could find after the earlier affairs, he strolled up to the front door and headed inside. The door’s bell jingled softly. He shoved any hesitance as far down as he could.

“Good evening!” Someone said as he entered. “And welcome!”

His confidence fizzled for a moment. He approached the front. It seemed off that no one else was here besides the few staff. The certainty flowed back as he recognised the darkner at the counter. Her name slipped his mind like melting candle wax. “HE Y! PL34SE [Give Me Just A Moment].”

“Of course. Take your time, Sir.”

That was quite nice, he considered as he picked up and looked through the place’s paper menu. The first time in forever that he was called ‘sir’. The oddity of being unknown made his gut squirm. Even though he knew logically that it made sense. He looked similar but not exactly the same as he used to. He didn’t sound right at all. It also had been a while since he ordered food in person. Normally he would find or steal some, rarely bought from convenience stores. Maybe it was too frivolous, spending his limited amount of money on something like fresh food. But the temptation had been too great. He only hoped it didn’t screw him over. Thousands of dollars sounded like a lot until you saw the price tags.

“COULD— COULD— COULD—” He stopped. Then he tried again after a long pause, “COULD I HAVE. WHATEVER SANDWICH IS [Cheapest Prices]?“

“One grilled cheese, coming up. Anything else?”

He shook his head, not trusting his words to break. He quickly paid the cashier and went to sit at a window double chair table. Waiting. Watching. Mostly the outside, since that’s why he chose a window seat. It was a nice view he hadn’t appreciated when younger. Really it was only the outside street, bustling with life and faces he knew but couldn’t name anymore. Cars drove and walked past, ads glowed brighter than any addison on walls, himself talking to random strangers, the road looking quite crowded, even more signs and billboards, plenty more general living things than he could name or even focus on. It was beautiful in a way. It was bright. Way too bright for his poor wide eyes. That’s part of why he had some cool prescription sunglasses— Wait. Himself?

Spamton did a double take when his brain finally caught up to something he noticed. His past self was walking around the sideways, speaking to darkners and wearing such a disappointed face. How weird. Spam had just been at the Cyber Grill. Why would he leave? It was far earlier than Spamton had left there in his time. Hours younger in the night. It made even less sense when one of the strangers pointed at the sandwich shop he sat in, and Spam lit up like a light bulb. There were only three in this place. The cashier, the chef, and—

His actual self.

Oh. 

Wait.

No. 

He couldn’t even try to run away without being very obvious. Or forgetting his sandwich. That’s just what he gets for thinking fresh food is a good idea. An awkward conversation after breaking a table and yelling again at Pascal. Had he really been that trusting at Spam’s age? No wonder an eldritch being had managed to convince him to take a hella shady deal, even while not at first telling him his part. Then again. It’s not like he knew the whole not-from-this-world thing until near the end. 

The sound of the door bell jingling pulled him out of his jumping thoughts.

“Hey, Lina!” His younger self greeted the cashier. Oh that was it! That was her name. Just one of many small things he couldn’t remember. Spamton kept his head facing the window, pushing his glasses down slightly to watch the reflection of the two.

“Spamton! It’s nice to see you again. Aren’t you suppose to be at the Grill with your family?” The cashier, Lina, seemed to perk up at the familiar face. She was just as confused as he was about this. At least. He assumed so. Maybe he was projecting his feelings again, who knows. He certainly couldn’t tell if he was or not.

“Yes, but, well, there was a fight…” Spam hesitated, then the subject changed as he gestured back at Spamton, “I’m actually here to talk to him. Could I have one of whatever he’s having as well? I ran out so quick, I forgot to order something! Eaheha!”

“Of course. A second grilled cheese, right up.”

“Thanks!” Spam smiled at her. He paid for it, and then turned to walk towards him. 

Spamton quickly put on a smile as well, though much faker than Spam’s. He turned his head to Spam. “HEY, [[Little Sponge]]!!! I DIDN;T TH1NK YOU WOULD [Be Here].”

“I didn’t think so either.” Spam sat down in the opposing chair. He lightly scratched at his hands. “I guess it makes sense you came here. This place is really nice!”

“[[Your Favourite Treats!]]” Spamton agreed with a nod. Then he paused, took a breath, and jumped right past any other niceties to the point. “WH Y WERE YOU TRYING FIND [Me] fOR? I ALREADY [Talk]. I DID WHAT I WANTED. I DONT DON’T Don;THA VE [Anything You Want And More!]”

“I just wanted to know where you left to.”

His smile twitched down and he raised an eyebrow at Spam. He hoped it looked just as incredulous as he tried to project. Spam nervously rubbed his hands as if they were cold. He fussed the rest up.

“O...Kay. So. I also wanted to know what that was about.” His shoulders shrugged. He looked away. “I’ve never gotten in an argument so bad that I would want to hit a table. Supposedly you’re me. So… Why did you?”

Ah. That was not as bad a question as he expected. He relaxed his posture and smile, leaning back in the chair. “A [Oh No! Our Table! It’s Broken!] IS BETTER THAN A BROKEN [Nose].”

“…What?”

“BETTER A TABLE?” He repeated, “THAN NOSE?” 

Spam’s face dropped further. His head tilted slightly and his eyes squinted.

“WHAT? [Why So] [Confusing]??” Was he missing something? Was it the tic? What could possibly be so—

Lina stopped their double confusion by setting two plates down with halved grilled cheese sandwiches. “Here you two are. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to flag me back over if you want anything else.”

“THANKS.” “Thanks!” The two chimed at the same time. She walked away with a wave.

Spamton snatched up one of his plate’s sandwiches, shoving it in his mouth. Screw his paranoid thoughts from earlier! This was the best decision he’s made in forever. He picked up his second one as well, opening his jaw to carry on his starving dog like actions.

“Did you— Will I… Break Pascal’s Nose?” Oh. He forgot for a moment why he was less than happy. The food was delicious, truly. But it was soured by his younger self sitting across from him with such an upset expression. He closed his mouth as he considered the words.

“RIGHT ON THE [Kromer]!!! IT. WAS AN ACCIDENT.” Mostly. At the time he wanted them to shut up and stop talking. Not break their nose. He hadn’t even known he could hit that hard! It was more useful to know later on than he would realise in that moment. His hard hitting punch would be a hide-saving grace.

“Why?? When?!” Spam’s upset grew as he lazily picked up one of his sandwiches to nibble. “Do I have to worry about that?”

“[[Not At All]].” Spamton tried to reassure. He tapped the table as he thought back to that night, taking a bite of his sandwich. It was practically seared into his mind. Even in the worst moments of memory he remembered those faces, the blood that flowed from two and caked under his extended claws. He swore that sometimes he saw it on his hands. He didn’t even have nails, much less claws to use for such a thing again.

It had been August in 1999. He had been skipping out on several months of meetups at the Grill. There were more important things to do. He couldn’t waste time with silly things like family and sleep. Plus there were several times that he had been told— no, Commanded — not to go by his benefactor on the phone. Which of course he listened to. Far too often he would claim he could come only to be held up by the phone or even other customers. One restless night he managed to have a free schedule. He could show for once. But. Enough was enough. He couldn’t recall who started to yell first. Him, or Pascal. They always tended to be confrontational. He just never really knew how bad it could get before then. The two of them were the youngest siblings, they had things to fight and argue about. Until then there were no reasons to fight fight. Words had been said and it escalated farther than it should have, even with two elder siblings trying to break it up.

There had been a quick and hot rage burning in him that night, and he swung a fist at them. Out of all the things that came to mind first to quiet their words. Spamton still wasn’t sure why years later. Even at the sound of something cracking and shocked clambering from his other siblings. The look of betrayal on them... He had tried to do it again and there was blood and oh god how could he have done that why had he done that he hit them he hit Pascal and he hit Yael he shouldn’t have done that why did he—

Something yanked him out of the memory. Shaking and glitching he hadn’t noticed slowed but didn’t stop completely. Scratches much like deep trenches trailed in the table, leading to his now curled hand. His sandwich was squished in his grip.

“HUH?? WHAT?” He looked up at Spam— When did he look down?— and saw he had grabbed Spamton’s shoulder. “DID YOU [Want] SOMETHING?”

“You were doing that thing again.” 

That narrowed absolutely nothing down. “THING? WHICH ONE?”

“The glitch thing.” Spam let go of his shoulder and gestured to all of Spamton. “You were talking and then suddenly stopped and turned all… Glitchy and staticky.”

“OH” He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to say to that. It was normal for him, he’d lived with it longer than not. He couldn’t really remember when it started or why it happened. “…[Sorry]?”

“Does it hurt?”

He blinked behind his glasses. He expected many questions. How come it happened? What caused it? Could he control it? Etcetera. The one asked didn’t cross his mind. He wasn’t sure if he should lie or tell the truth. So Spamton looked away and ate the last part of his sandwich. Quite literally chewed on the idea for a moment. Did it hurt?

“…Sometimes it does…” He settled on. Then, jolting at the Spam-sounding and glitch-free admission, he tried to correct it. Awkward laughter stuttered out his mouth, “HUH?? IGNORE THAT. I DIDN;T SAY ANYTHING. IT DOESN’T [Hurt? Good.]!!!.! WHERE DID [You] GET THAT IDEA??!”

The unfortunate ability to excellently read faces meant he knew for a fact that Spam didn’t at all believe him. It killed his confidence, but told him not to double down. He was such an open book, wearing his heart on his sleeve as if it were a pride. That hadn’t changed much over the years even leading to Spamton.

“It's just... Seems like it would.” Spam finished off his sandwich as well.

He decidedly doesn’t say anything else to that. Best not to dig a worse grave. Instead he stood up with a half concocted plan. He headed to leave the establishment before the remembrance of how rude that was popped up in his head. So he turned back. Opening his mouth and clattering it closed a few time, he thought. Spamton gestured for Spam to get up and come along, “LET’S GO. NO REASON TO [Stay].”

Though he did stand up to follow, Spam asked, “Where are we going?”

Spamton shrugged, pushing the door open and walking right out. It didn’t really matter where they went, now did it? No where he had to go, and no where he wanted to go. Well, there was one place… But Heaven could wait for later tonight. He had the time now, he didn’t need to rush.

He saw Spam pause at the door to turn and wave at Lina, “Goodbye! See you next week!”

“Bye bye Spam!” She responded in kind before Spamton led him along out the door.

Together the two saundered about the city. Just looking at things. Familiar buildings, familiar faces. Whatever they could find. At least… Spamton was looking at things. He wasn’t sure why Spam still followed him around. Sure he had said they should leave the shop, but that didn’t mean he had to follow. It was nice though. It wasn’t often he had friendly company that didn’t mind his peculiarities too much. Despite it quite literally being himself. Kris had been the last, but even they were scared by his off movements and awful voice. They also were quite quick in fulfilling their deal. It only took them an hour! Quickest deal he’d ever done. They didn’t even stick around to hangout really. Unless asking weird questions like ‘What are you scared of’ and ‘Are you friends with the knight’ was what kids in the future days considered hanging out? That thought made him feel old. He wasn’t that old, was he? He was just 45.

“I [Used Vehicle] TO OWN THIS CI7Y, YOU KNOW.!” He said after a bit, gesturing his arm at everything around them. The sound of other city dwellers was enough to muffle his voice and stop any silence. But it wasn’t enough to quell the building pressure in his throat demanding he speak his thoughts aloud. At least it was enough to make his odd words seem less out of place.

“Really?” The voice of Spam startled him for a moment. He half expected Spam not to respond at all. Spamton nodded, his teeth clacking against each other. 

Throwing a hand up to make it more dramatic, he continued. “REALLY!! I WAS ON T0P OF THE [World]!!!! FOR [Ate] YEARS MY NAMe WAS [Far And Wide] KNOWN.”

Spam’s head followed the hand. It looked up around, at flashing lights and giant billboards. At buildings standing tall and proud, names declared to whomever would look. Disappointment seeped it’s way into Spam’s words. “That sounds nice. What I would give… Did you really come back to stop that from happening?”

“IT WASN’T [What It Seems].” Spamton’s smile twitched. He dropped his hand and his head. His glasses filled with black. “ALL THAT [[Kromer]]! ALL THE [[Deals So Good]]!!! [Mike] MADE SURE I COULDN;T KEEP IT. I JUST. I JUST. IT WAS NEVER ENOUGH. … Why wasn’t it enough..?”

“…Mike? You keep mentioning him.”

He snapped out of the beginning of a spiral, swinging his head back up with colourful glasses once more. He sounded a recording of his old telephone’s double ring. He glitched out a laugh. Taking note of where they were, he changed direction for a specific location. While he could stay out forever if he really wanted to— and probably will be since he had nowhere to go— he wasn’t going to let Spam do that. Especially if he doesn’t have to. “A DEAL’S A DEAL! DON;T TAKE [Mike]’S. DO YOU KNOW WHAT [Mike] WANTED [Me] TO GET???”

Spam gave him a look. In hindsight, that was a silly question. If he hadn’t known, why expect Spam to?

“A LIGHT nER [[HeartShapedObject]]!!”

He heard rather than saw his young self halt. Not wanting to lose what might be the last friendly conversation for a good while, he too stopped and looked behind him. Spam’s mouth had dropped, wide mismatched eyes staring. Much like a spinning mouse cursor that keeps going for minutes, clearly several things were running through his mind. Before Spamton could ask if he was okay, Spam squeake out, “That’s impossible! Wha- Why- How??”

It was a spitting image of when he had been told the same thing. If he put Spam into his old mansion room with the phone and switched his clothes, he would have believed it to be a photo of that day. “THAT’S WHAT I SAID. THEN HE LEFT AND DIDN’T EVEN [Tell Me More].”

He waited a moment, in case Spam had more to say. His young self started up walking again. Spamton followed and their steps were quickly in time.

“You know. Pascal starting that fight got us all temporarily banned from the Grill.”

“HUH?” The abrupt change in subject startled Spamton for a moment. A genuine snort of laughter left him. It was an obvious way to change the topic but still… He wanted to hear this. “RE4LLY?”

“Really! Right after you left!” Spam smiled. He waved his hands excitedly as he started to explain, “I’ve gotten in arguments with them before but… Never like that. Not all of us at once either. And— And, what you said before? How fighting is against the rules? We learnt that quickly. We didn’t even get to eat anything! Too busy yelling. And the table… Well, the money you left went to that instead.”

He honestly forgot that the table would have had to be paid for. Most things he hit were his or public property.

“I’m not sure where we’ll meet up after this for a few months. If… If we meet up. Pascal and Oakley were pretty upset with each other. I’ve never seen her so worked up.”

“TAKE IT FROM ME, [Kid]!” Ooh, this was going to sound so hypocritical he knew. “DONT LET THEM [Avoid] EACH-OTHER. HEY!! WHAT      ABOUT THE HOUSE? [Very, Very Big],, JUST HAVE THEM VISIT.”

“We already do that on holidays.”

“MAKE EVER YDAY A [Marketable Holidays]!!”

“I’d have to ask everyone about that idea… Wait.” Spam slowed a smidge as he finally took notice of where they were. Just in time, too, they just reached in front of the house in question. “Have you been walking me home this entire time?!”

Spamton nodded, quick to pretend as if this wasn’t a random last minute idea. Totally what he planned the moment he left the sandwich place. Yes. It took longer than he expected for Spam to notice, right up to the house. “IT’s LATE, AND I [Doubt] YOU’D WANT TO [Like And Follow] M E ALL NIGHT!.”

“No. I guess not. Thanks.”

They both stopped at the porch stairs. Spamton rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away from the door. Before he could run off with a hasty goodbye, Spam turned to him with an uncertain look. “Hey. Do you… Want to spend the night here? You mentioned living in the garbage. So. You’re homeless. It wouldn’t feel right forcing you to stay out in the cold.”

Yes    ❤️    No

A strange feeling fluttered through Spamton and the world seemed to stutter for a moment. He shook his head to clear it away. He could have swore his answer was just about to be made for him. He decidedly completely ignored that. He tuned back into Spam’s anxious rambles.

Spam had at some point gestured behind him at the front door. “You can take the guest room if you want. I already asked Binx— Well, really I told him I was going to ask you, and that he’d have to deal with it. He actually went along with it? But now I have to do the dishes for a week…”

Spamton made his own choice.

“YOU WON’T STOP ASKING UNTIL [Agree To Terms And Services].” he pointed out with a shrug. “SO I MIGHT AS WELL [Take The Deal]”

“Oh.” Spam quieted. Then he blinked. “Oh! Good, right. Let’s head inside, then. Binx is probably heading to bed soon if he hasn’t already. So you won’t see him. Do you remember where the guest room is—?”

Spamton followed him up and inside, closing the door behind them. His thoughts turned to the odd feeling before Spam dragged him along to the guest room with more conversation. It was probably nothing. He felt weird things all the time anyway.