Tank stretched out on Jason’s couch, arms draped over the back, feeling good. Maybe better than he had in years. His body felt stronger, tighter, like something inside him had been fine-tuned overnight. The pendant Atlas left him was warm against his chest, but he barely noticed it anymore. It just felt… right.
Jason, however, was watching him with that look—the one he got when something was really bothering him.
“You gonna keep staring, or you wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Tank asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jason hesitated. “Alright, look—I wasn’t gonna bring this up, ‘cause it’s probably just my brain being fucked up from watching too many horror movies. But, uh… I had a nightmare last night.”
Tank smirked. “Damn, dude, you need me to hold you while you fall asleep?”
Jason scowled. “Shut the fuck up. I’m serious.”
Tank chuckled, but Jason wasn’t laughing.
And that unsettled him.
Jason never got rattled.
Tank’s smirk faded a little. “Alright. Tell me about it.”
Jason took a deep breath, cracking his knuckles like he was working out tension. “It was about you.”
Tank blinked.
Jason exhaled sharply. “You were different. Bigger, somehow. Like, huge. Your skin was dark, almost bruised, and your eyes—” He stopped, rubbing his face. “Your eyes were fucking black, dude. No whites, no pupils. Just a void.”
Tank rolled his eyes, leaning back again. “Okay, so I turn into a sexy demon. What’s the big deal?”
Jason frowned. “It wasn’t just that. You weren’t you anymore. You spoke, but your voice wasn’t right—it was layered, like something else was inside you, speaking with you.”
Tank snorted. “Damn, I sound metal as hell.”
Jason threw a pillow at him. “Dude!”
Tank caught it, grinning. “Alright, alright, I get it. It freaked you out.”
Jason’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. Because it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt… real.”
Tank smirked, but deep down, something itched at the back of his skull.
He knew Jason well enough to tell when he was full of shit.
And right now?
Jason wasn’t.
2 – The Feeling That Won’t Go Away
They talked about other things after that—work, gym routines, who was showing up to Bear Bash later—but Jason’s words stuck with Tank, like a splinter buried just under the skin.
By the time he left Jason’s place, the sun was setting, and the city had that hazy, golden glow that made everything look a little too perfect.
He walked for a while, letting the cool air settle over him.
People still noticed him.
Gay men stared—openly, hungrily, like he was the most captivating thing they’d ever seen.
Straight men flinched, looking away the second their eyes met his.
One guy—a businessman in a suit—actually stopped mid-step, shuddered, and turned to cross the street without another word.
Tank grinned.
It was powerful.
And the thing was?
He didn’t even feel different. Not really. Just… more aware.
But Jason’s nightmare gnawed at the back of his mind.
Black eyes. Twisted body. Something inside him that wasn’t him anymore.
Tank exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
It was just a dream.
Nothing more.
Right?
3 – Crossing Paths with Heath
Tank turned the corner near The Den, thinking about heading inside for a quick drink before Bear Bash later.
Then—
He felt it.
A shift.
Like the air had thickened, the temperature dropping just slightly.
And that’s when he saw Heath.
Or, at least, someone who looked like Heath.
But it wasn’t.
Heath had always been the bright, witchy, love-and-light type. The guy who smelled like sandalwood and always had a pocket full of crystals. The guy who believed in karma and moon phases and protection spells.
But the man walking toward Tank now?
Different.
His clothes were darker, his usual flowy aesthetic replaced with fitted black jeans and a shirt that hugged his frame like a second skin. His energy—once warm and open—felt coiled, focused.
And his eyes.
Not black. Not yet.
But darker.
Like something was shifting beneath the surface.
He didn’t even look at Tank as he passed.
Didn’t acknowledge him at all.
And for some reason, that sent a chill up Tank’s spine.
Jason’s voice echoed in his head.
"You weren’t you anymore."
Tank turned, watching Heath disappear down the street.
Something had happened to him.
Tank just didn’t know what—
Yet.
4 – A Night at Bear Bash
By the time Tank got to Bear Bash, he was in a mood.
The bar was packed—thick, sweaty bodies pressed together, the air pulsing with heat and music. The scent of cologne, leather, and whiskey filled his lungs, grounding him.
Jason spotted him first, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “There he is! You look like you need a drink.”
Tank smirked. “You have no idea.”
Jason grinned and handed him a whiskey.
As the night went on, Tank felt good. The weight of the pendant was steady against his chest, the energy of the room feeding something inside him.
Men were drawn to him—more than usual.
They didn’t just flirt.
They gravitated.
One guy—broad, bearded, clearly a regular gym-goer—brushed up against him and shuddered at the contact. His breath hitched, his pupils blowing wide before he swallowed hard and muttered, “Shit—sorry.”
But he didn’t move away.
Tank chuckled. “You good?”
The guy exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah. Just… damn.”
Jason raised an eyebrow at the interaction, taking a sip of his beer.
Tank smirked.
Yeah.
This was power.
But Jason was still watching him.
Still seeing something he couldn’t ignore.
And as the night wore on, as the drinks flowed and the music pounded, Tank felt it too.
The slow, creeping shift.
Like something was waiting.
Like Atlas’s words—"Trust the changes. Embrace them."—were still in the air, curling around him like smoke.
Jason leaned in at one point, voice low. “You sure you’re okay, man?”
Tank grinned. “Never better.”
And maybe—
Just maybe—
He meant it.
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