Don't Wake Me Up | Chapter 5

            He couldn’t explain why he was so exhausted. Sitting downstairs on the couch, Darcy tried to rest his eyes, but to no avail. He kept seeing his short nightmare on loop, as if it was plastered to his eyelids, so, defeated, he opened his eyes with a frustrated moan. There was no point in continuing trying to sleep down there, so he got up and walked upstairs. He could hear someone rustling through the bedroom closet, so he reluctantly opened the door, stepping inside. Ansel was there, his shirt and hoodie lying on the bed, leaving him shirtless as he dug through the hanging articles of clothing. For a long moment, Darcy just watched him, before finally clearing his throat.

            “What are you doing?” He questioned.

            Ansel glanced back at him. “Where are all of my clothes? I don’t really want to wear this hoodie for the rest of my life.”

            Darcy sat down on the edge of the bed, his back now to Ansel. “You can wear some of mine.” He responded. He didn’t want to answer that question, since it would again make him seem like an a*s if it didn’t reveal dead-on that Ansel had died.

            Ansel made a noise in the back of his throat that was only half-accepting of that response, and then he took something from the closet and began putting it on. Luckily, Darcy usually purchased clothing that was much too big for him (except for pants, which he preferred to be tight), so Ansel would likely have no difficulty fitting into most of his wardrobe. The doctor ran his hand down his face with a deep breath; yet again, something felt off. He heard Ansel take something metal and heavy down from the top shelf of the closet, but didn’t react to it. Something was making him feel anxious. What was bothering him?

            “What is this?”

            Darcy turned around and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ansel�"who was now wearing a red t-shirt of his�"peering into the jar that held his own ashes. The container wasn’t labelled, thankfully, but Ansel seemed somewhat perturbed regardless. “It’s my dad,” the older man blurted.

            “Oh, Jesus.” Ansel put the lid back onto the container. “Sorry.”

            “It’s alright.” Darcy told him, though inwardly he was panicking at how much of a close call that could have been.

            Ansel was quiet for a second after putting the jar of ashes back, but then he sighed. “Y’know, Darc,” he began, “I really did think I was gonna die that night.”

            Nervously, Darcy looked up at Ansel. “What makes you say that?”

            Ansel turned, facing him now, and admit, “I just had that feeling, you know? That… sorta flutter in my chest, like my heart was about to give up. A lightheaded feeling and the sensation that my life was flashing before my eyes. Like I had to start working on my bucket list ASAP.”

            Darcy knew the feeling, as he still remembered his own death. Finally, it occurred to him to ask, “You said I died in your arms that day?”

            Ansel turned his eyes to the hardwood floor beneath them. “Yeah.”

            “What happened after that? Why did the doppelgänger of me let you go?”

            The younger man had to think, but eventually gave up, confessing, “I don’t know. All I remember is this intense feeling of grief, and that I felt like I was going to go insane. Maybe I did for a minute. I probably repressed it.”

            “Well, whatever you did, it saved my life.”

            “I guess it must’ve.” Ansel shrugged, but when he looked up at Darcy again, his face paled.

            “Ansel?”

            After a beat, the former insomniac slowly shook his head. He had just remembered a snippet of what happened after his brief psychotic break post-Darcy’s death: an image of himself stabbing Darcy’s doppelgänger in the neck and head over and over and over. “Nothing.” He denied. “I’m good.”

            “You… sure about that?”

            “Yeah.” Ansel turned back toward the closet, and Darcy was about to let the conversation end until the young man spoke again. “Hey, uh, Darc?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Do you…” He shook his head again and let out a short laugh. “I don’t expect you to, but… You wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the name of ‘Dantalion’, would you?”

            Darcy furrowed his brows. “Not that I know of.”

            Ansel shook his head once more and again faced the closet. “It’s nothing, forget it.” He replied. “Anyway, since someone let my number get recycled, I need a way to call that Molly chick.”

            “You want to call her tonight?”

            “Hell yeah!”

            Darcy shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you could use the landline, then. But who’s Dantalion?”

            “I don’t know.” Ansel admit casually. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He pulled a white coat�"not the one Darcy used to wear, but a different one that was much shorter and also a brighter shade of white�"from the closet and looked at his friend before asking, “Can I wear this?”

            “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

            Ansel slipped the coat on over the red t-shirt. He looked pretty cool in the former doctor’s opinion.

            “Looks good on you, Ansel.”

            Ansel gave him a small smile in response. Shortly after, he headed downstairs, leaving Darcy alone in the bedroom. The older man stood up and found himself starting to pace, so he sat down at his desk and opened the black notebook there, grabbing a pencil. As he flipped through the lined pages, he found random notes he had left for himself and a few doodles. Then, page upon page of attempted drawings of Ansel. Darcy wasn’t much of an artist, but over the past two years, he’d been practicing only with his memory of Ansel. Staring at the latest drawing, from two weeks prior, the former doctor pulled the tattered photograph of his friend out from his pocket. It still hurt: thinking about him when he was alone, even though he was alive again. However, he had something else in his mind that he wanted to draw for some reason, though he couldn’t see it clearly.

            After flipping to a new page, Darcy put his pencil down on the page, but nothing happened. He waited for something to hit him, but nothing did, so he brought his free hand up to his chin and looked up at the wall. Soon he was lost in thought, though on what exactly, he wasn’t sure. His mind wandered from topic to topic as he thought he heard something downstairs (which he tuned out), before finally settling on the subject of his doppelgänger. Ansel’s former friend, Jay, had used black magic to create it, which was exactly what Bradley had used to resurrect Ansel himself. However, his doppelgänger demon had never been exorcised; Jay had been killed by it before he could get rid of it. So, two questions remained: why had he come back to life, and why had Ansel been able to get out of the situation alive? Sure, his illness progressed rapidly from that point on, but the demon had not only not killed him, but had resurrected Darcy. Things didn’t add up. There had to be some sort of catch.

            When he snapped out of his thoughts, he glanced down at the paper, and then immediately froze. Drawn onto the paper unconsciously by his own hand was some sort of symbol. It had a total of nine circles and three branches that looked like crucifixes. Confused, the doctor-turned-nurse tilted his head. He didn’t know what he’d drawn, or why he’d drawn it, but it looked vaguely familiar to him for some reason he couldn’t explain.

            “Huh.”

            He forgot all about it the second he heard his ringtone go off. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cellphone, and was surprised to see that Bradley was calling him. Confused but willing to talk, Darcy answered the call, putting the phone to his ear.

            “Hello?”

            “Darcy,” Bradley gasped, sounding nearly hysterical, “where’s Ansel?”

---

 

            It took Ansel a minute to find the landline downstairs, but when he did, he pulled the pad of paper out from the back pocket of his grey pants�"still stained with paint�"and looked at the number written there. With a nervous breath, he picked up the receiver and dialed the number. As it rung, he felt the intense urge to hang up before she answered, but then he heard her voice and realized it was too late to chicken out.

            “Hello?” She answered.

            “Hey, Molly.” He said, struggling to sound less flustered than he was. “It’s, uh… It’s Ansel.”

            “Oh, hi!” The woman giggled. “I didn’t expect you to call so soon.”

            “Heh, well, y’know…” He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just trailed off awkwardly. Then he told her, “Look, I’m just gonna say it. I know it’s probably pretty forward, but… I think you’re very pretty.”

            “Well, I’ve already said you’re handsome.” She joked back.

            “True. Anyway, it’s just, you’re pretty, so… I was wondering, if… uh…”

            “Would you like to go out for a drink or two?” She cut him off with an offer of her own.

            “Wow.” He replied. “Speaking of forward…”

            “Life’s too short to take everything slow.” The teacher declared. “You’re handsome, I’m pretty; let’s see what happens. What do you say?”

            It sounded almost too good to be true, but if Molly was that into him after seeing him for only a few minutes earlier that day, he wasn’t going to complain. Idly, he felt the back pocket of his pants, and was relieved to find that his wallet was still there. “Uh, sure.” He agreed. “I’d love to. Where at?”

            She named a location that he knew, but after they ended the call and he hung up, he realized that he had no clue how to get there from this house. “S**t,” he mumbled to himself, “I hope my sense of direction isn’t too bad…” He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and opened it. To his relief, he still had all of the money he’d left in it the last time he used it, two years prior. He was about to head for the front door, but he approached the staircase instead and called up, “Darc! I’m goin’ out for a bit, alright? Don’t wait up!”

            There was no response, so Ansel shrugged and left through the front door. He didn’t have a key to lock the door from the outside, so he merely pretended to lock it in case somebody was watching (which he doubted, but he’d learned that it wasn’t possible to be too careful after his experience with Jay). He found that despite that fact that snow was falling onto the ground, it wasn’t too cold outside, so the coat would do even if it was left open. After taking a nervous breath, he walked down the steps to the sidewalk and started to head in the direction he assumed to be the right one.

            “How the hell do I get there from here…?” He breathed the question to himself anyway, and then stopped in his tracks. Almost immediately after he asked that question aloud, the answer came to him, and he realized he was walking the wrong way. “Huh,” he thought, “guess I did know.”

            Thinking nothing unusual of how the answer to his question dawned on him, the former insomniac turned around and began heading in the right direction. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the bar he had agreed to meet Molly at. Figuring that maybe he was a little bit early, he stepped inside and sat at the end of the bar that was furthest from the front door. After he sat down, he glanced up at the bartender; he’d seen him a few times, but they were no more than mere acquaintances. Still, for some reason, the man stared at him like he was looking at a ghost.

            “Hey.” Ansel spoke timidly. “Long time no see, huh?”

            “Indeed,” the bartender managed to say despite his shock.

            Ansel was only sitting there for another minute before he noticed someone at one of the tables gawking at him in terror. He raised a brow, but then recognized the man; it was Darcy’s least favorite acquaintance, a nurse named Ryan Raimondi. Though he was still confused as to why the man seemed horrified to see him, he raised his brows and nodded at him, acknowledging his presence; even more confusing, this show of recognition only seemed to make Ryan more frightened.

            “Ansel?”

            He looked up at the sound of Molly’s voice, finding her to have taken a seat to his right. “Molly.”

            “You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?” She asked, her teeth chattering. She was bundled up in a thick parka and a scarf, and her cheeks were rosy from exposure to the cold. Ansel was surprised that she was so chilled to the bone, since he had only walked in a t-shirt and a thin coat and had if anything been a little too warm, but he didn’t comment on it.

            “No, I just got here about two or three minutes ago.”

            “Oh, good.” As she started to remove her coat, the bartender approached.

            “She your girlfriend?” He asked.

            Ansel laughed nervously. “Well, n�"”

            “Yep, that’s me.” Molly replied with a smile. Ansel shot her a confused look, which prompted her to turn to him and beam at him. He wanted to argue and tell the truth, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he felt excited that she was being so forward.

            “What’ll you two have?”

            “Two shots of vodka.” The math teacher answered, then glanced at Ansel. “You do like vodka, don’t you, babe?”

            He was getting weirded out, but he slowly nodded.

            The bartender shrugged and walked over to the other end of the bar to prepare their shots, and while he was away, Ansel looked at Molly.

            “Why are you saying we’re a couple?” He asked her in a hushed voice. “We only met this morning.”

            She shrugged. “Again, life’s too short. I mean, you like me, don’t you?”

            “Sure, but I hardly know anything about you.”

            “I just have a good feeling about this; whatever we have here.” She told him with an innocent grin as she took hold of his hand and rubbed his knuckles with her thumb.

            Ansel wished he could agree with her, but while most of him was all for this, there was still a part of him deep down that felt like something was wrong. He couldn’t figure out why she was so into him. It didn’t make sense. Even so, he couldn’t help but play along. He really liked Molly for some reason deeper than how beautiful she was. If he didn’t know it any better, he might have called it a case of love at first sight.

            The bartender brought them their drinks, and a couple of shots later, Ansel was no longer conflicted about his feelings for Molly. If she wanted to be an item with him, in his tipsy state, he was absolutely on board with her. After a period of time, the length of which Ansel was unsure of, Molly finally put her coat back on over her shoulders and flashed him what he could have sworn were bedroom eyes. She wasn’t as drunk as he was, and would still be able to drive; at least he hoped she would, considering what she offered.

            “I can drive you home if you’d like.” She told him, but then brought her skinny fingers to his chin and rubbed the patch of facial hair there. “Or, I mean, we could… head back to my place…”

            Ansel felt a chill of excitement run down his spine. His judgment a tad too impaired for him to reconsider, he gulped, feeling hot under the collar, and nodded.

            “Yeah?” She hummed in an entrancingly flirtatious tone.

            “Yeah…” He choked.

            Stumbling on his own feet, not as much due to drunkenness as it was due to nervousness, Ansel followed the gorgeous math teacher out of the bar. They were halfway to her car�"a black hatchback�"when someone shouted at them.

            “Hey!” The voice hollered.

            Ansel turned around, as did Molly; it was Ryan. He approached reluctantly, but kept his distance at the same time. “Your name’s Ryan, right?” Ansel asked him. “What do you want?”

            “Ansel?” The nurse asked. “Ansel Hunnisett?”

            “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

            “That’s impossible.”

            “Look, man, you’re drunk. Do you want us to call a taxi for you?”

            “Who are you?!” Ryan demanded on the verge of panic.

            Ansel took a step back, closer to Molly. “You just said my name, chill! I’m Ansel!”

            “You’re lying!”

            “What makes you think that?”

            “Ansel Hunnisett is dead!”

            Something in Ansel’s head clicked, but he pushed aside the fog that had arisen in his mind and shook his head. “There’s been a misunderstanding.” He tittered to the nurse. “I’ve been in a coma sort of state, but I’m very much alive.”

            “What, do you need me to show you his death records?! Ansel died on December 24^th of 2016! I can prove it! So who are you?!”

            “Hey, look at me!” Ansel shouted back. “You recognized me, didn’t you? I’m tellin’ you, I’m alive! You’re mistaken!”

            “Then where’s Darcy, huh?! Where’s Dr. Adair?!”

            “He’s at home, Ryan.”

            “At your apartment?”

            “No, at his dad’s old place! Dude, I’m up-to-speed on everything!”

            “You were cremated! I was there!”

            Those statements made Ansel’s argument crumble before his eyes. It didn’t make sense, but really, he had no proof that he hadn’t died. The ashes he had held… were they really Darcy’s father’s? “No, you’re…” The former insomniac shook his head, slowly at first and then somewhat wildly. “You’re mistaken. How else could you explain me being alive right now?”

            Ryan pointed at him accusingly. “You’re that doppelgänger creature that killed my father, aren’t you?! You son of a b***h!”

            “Ansel, what’s he talking about?!” Molly cowered behind him.

            Ansel backed closer into her defensively, now snarling somewhat at the nurse in front of them. “Ignore him!” He told her before saying to Ryan, “You’re insane. That thing’s long gone. Now, she and I are leaving, and if you try anything funny, I swear I’ll call the cops on your a*s faster than you can say ‘oops’.”

            Molly ran around and got into the driver’s seat, and as Ansel opened the passenger side door and stepped inside, he kept his eye on Ryan, who watched them leave. Despite not trying anything, he still wore a vengeful look on his youthful face. After closing the door and putting on his seatbelt, Ansel narrowed his eyes at the nurse.

            “Should we go?” The math teacher asked him, having regained her composure all of the sudden.

            “Yeah.” Ansel grumbled.

            “Ansel.”

            He didn’t react, still continuing to glare at Ryan. He had an odd feeling in his chest that he couldn’t put a name to which was mixing in with the combination of fear and fury he already felt.

            “Babe.”

            Trying to push his frustration aside, Ansel turned to look at Molly, only to jolt when she placed her hand against his cheek. Next thing he knew, her lips were pressed against his, and his cold anger and uncertainty both melted away into a warm, satisfactory infatuation with the woman sitting beside him. His heart now pounding in his chest for a different reason, he leaned closer to her and began kissing back, and soon they found themselves in the midst of a passionate make-out session. Almost too quickly for his likes, she pulled back, leaving him hovering where they’d just been kissing, breathing a bit heavier than before. She looked at him with eyes that he saw were blue, though he could have sworn before that they were green.

            “My place?” She panted with a smirk as she started the car.

            “Yes, please."