This play was published on Tuesday, 13 January 2026 and is part of the Kakantiga Ultra or Cantos of the Beyond: a daily new short story or play dreamfishing and celebrating past, present, possible and future Kristang culture. This play features the anticipated future 26th Kabesa and is set in Hastinapura / Corepoint in February 2315.
Prologue: Falling Into Falling Out Of Love
An alley behind a nightclub in Corepoint. Made of some form of 23rd-century brick composite that nobody alive in 2026 can comprehend. A similarly pseudo-metal fire door still vibrating faintly with bass from inside. Neon bleed from somewhere unseen. The air smells like sweat, smoke, rain that never quite fell.
The music crescendoes, and the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa abruptly stumbles out the door, laughing once under his breath, then stops. He braces a hand against the wall. Breathing hard. Not drunk. (At least, he claims. This play also claims.) Very present.
He straightens his jacket too slowly. Runs a hand through his hair. Misses a button. Decides not to fix it.
26TH KABESA
(Looking at the audience, stunned) Woah. Okay. Give me a second.
The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa waits. Counts his breath down. The music thumps once more from inside, then the door settles.
Right.
He looks at the ground, and smiles, faintly.
People think restraint means never wanting anything.
He scoffs.
Idiots.
He pushes off the wall, takes two steps, then stops again. Still…riding?…something. Or catching his balance. One or the other. Maybe both.
She used to say this was the dangerous part.
Not the wanting.
The after.
He adjusts his sleeve. His hand shakes. He notices. Lets it.
When your body remembers that it’s allowed to be alive.
A pause.
She never said that in public, obviously.
He exhales, longer this time.
I was born here. Corepoint. 2282.
Which means the city watched me learn very early how to put myself back together quickly.
So did she, until it was my turn to pull it altogether.
Like this.
He glances at the door behind him.
I’m thirty-three now, and I’m already learning some doors are for forgetting.
Some are for reminding.
A siren passes somewhere distant. He waits for it to fade.
They think leadership happens under lights.
On platforms.
In rooms where everyone’s sober and pretending.
He laughs quietly.
No.
It happens in places like this.
Where you remember what pressure does to truth.
He presses his palm flat to his chest once. Steady now.
If I tell them how I know when a decision is going to hollow someone out, they’ll ask me to do it every time.
They’ll stop checking themselves.
They’ll stop listening to each other.
A pause.
She knew that.
Refused that.
Refused me, too, when I kept making it about me.
He looks up. The neon flickers. He doesn’t.
Fucking insane to think she carried the same thing I now do, and that she did it without telling anyone for, fuck, what? Eighteen fucking years.
Never named it. Never claimed to have used it to win an argument. Never turned it into a performance. Probably did both without telling anyone anything.
Which is why this city at the end of the fucking world still works.
He jabs at something at the wall and the neon flickers and now glimmers instead of flickers. Slow. Intentional.
There are four men not far from here. Three of them are in there. (Gestures at the nightclub). The last one thinks clubs are for idiots. And all four of them think love is something you fall into.
A smile. Real this time.
And my psychic spidey-sense thing is telling me they are about to learn it’s something you hold, even when it makes you sweat.
The bass from inside surges briefly. He waits it out.
I am not allowed to say what I am, other than the Twenty-Sixth fool in a line of very foolish fools indeed.
And I am not going to pretend that doesn’t cost me anything.
But I will say this.
He looks out, steady.
If the Twenty-Fifth of us maniacs could do it without obliterating her own sanity—
And never mind the ethics; love you, Kevin Martens, really, but really, never mind the ethics—
If these four fuckers I’m also in love with can stay honest with each other after feeling this alive—
without turning it into leverage, or myth, or permission—
He nods, once.
Then the rest of us have no excuse.
Act I
Act I, Scene I: Cats Under a Hot Tin Roof
The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa turns to leave the alley.
(The fire door slams open again.
Bass. Laughter. Someone swearing affectionately.
HELDER BALASUBRAMANIAM stumbles out first, jacket (and shirt) half-off, already mid-sentence.
HELDER
I’m not saying it was bad music. I’m saying if it needs to be that loud, it’s hiding something.
TEZCA(COATL) MARVINSON DE VRIES follows, grinning, hair a disaster, glowing with the precise wrong amount of joy.
TEZCA
You danced for thirty-three minutes.
HELDER
I stood near rhythm.
TEZCA
You used your shoulders.
HELDER
Strategically.
They clock the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
TEZCA
…oh.
Helder squints.
HELDER
Is that—
No.
Wait.
Yeah.
It’s him.
He gestures vaguely at the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
Are you breathing like that because of cardio, philosophy, or poor decisions?
26TH KABESA
Yes.
TEZCA
God, I love you so much. I can’t tell if that’s flirtation or governance.
HELDER
It’s governance.
It’s always governance.
Helder notices the missed button. Points.
You missed one.
26TH KABESA
I’m aware.
HELDER
You’re going to regret that later.
26TH KABESA
I regret nothing. In thirty-minute intervals.
Tezca leans against the wall, eyes flicking between them.
TEZCA
Right.
So.
Gestures between Helder and the Kabesa.
Are Helder and I interrupting a civic revelation or a personal crisis?
26TH KABESA
I was wrapping up a thesis on why I’m not allowed to explain myself.
HELDER
Classic.
Helder rolls his shoulders, grounding.
You okay?
The Kabesa considers lying. Doesn’t.
26TH KABESA
Define okay.
HELDER
Functionally intact, emotionally compromised, ethically operational.
26TH KABESA
Then yes.
Tezca grins wider.
TEZCA
See, Helder, this is why I don’t trust people who won’t dance. They don’t get this part.
He gestures at the Kabesa’s whole… state.
26TH KABESA
Oh, I dance, Tezca Marvinson de Vries.
HELDER
No, you don’t.
26TH KABESA
I absolutely do, Helder Balasubramaniam.
HELDER
You dance with the letters of my name.
Tezca laughs again.
TEZCA
He recalibrates sensually.
Helder shoots Tezca a look.
HELDER
Do not make that a thing.
TEZCA
Too late.
Tezca kisses the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa on the mouth, passionately. Helder rolls his eyes.
26TH KABESA
So.
You two enjoying yourselves?
HELDER
Define enjoying.
TEZCA
We survived without turning it into a referendum on identity, so yes.
HELDER
Barely.
Helder glances back at the club.
Iggy is still inside, right?
26TH KABESA
Unfortunately, yes.
HELDER
Ari doesn’t know what he’s missing.
TEZCA
Ari’s just scared.
HELDER
Of being off the couch.
TEZCA
Of the relationship, Helder.
Helder exhales.
HELDER
With you, with me, or with…(gestures at the 26th Kabesa) this?
The Kabesa watches them with open fondness.
26TH KABESA
Yall should go home. Before Iggy tries eating the chairs again.
TEZCA
You sound like an oracle.
HELDER
Or a warning label.
TEZCA
We did have to pay for the chairs. Remember?
HELDER
Iggy’s wallet was thankfully not on Iggy’s person at the time.
TEZCA
We do love him that much.
26TH KABESA
We do, but I’m serious.
They both look at him now.
Tonight’s one of those nights where if you don’t talk, you’ll think you’re being kind.
Helder frowns.
HELDER
That’s uncalled for.
TEZCA
That’s accurate.
HELDER
What? How would you know? How would he (gesturing at the 26th Kabesa) know?
TEZCA
(wrapping himself in the 26th Kabesa’s embrace) Man knows things.
26TH KABESA
(squeezing Tezca gently) Like how almost all of this is pure, concentrated alcohol, and all of that (gesturing at Helder) is currently pure concentrated concentration, trying not to fall apart before the 6.30am shift tomorrow.
Helder sighs.
HELDER
Were all of you like this?
26TH KABESA
All the Kabesa? No. (He spins Tezca around). Just the ones that deserved to have their lives…dramatized.
Tezca pushes off the 26th Kabesa and then somewhat blearily off the wall.
TEZCA
Alright. Come on, Held. Before Ariston decides this was “healing gone wrong” and we all pay for it tomorrow.
Helder hesitates, then nods.
HELDER
Fine.
But I’m not starting the conversation.
TEZCA
You never do. You just take Iggy’s wallet.
HELDER
(solemnly) I do what is necessary for the good of Corepoint and the human race.
They turn to go.
26TH KABESA
Hey.
They pause.
Whatever you think this is—
He gestures vaguely at himself, and then at Tezca confidently, and then at Helder confusedly (Helder also frowns), meaning everything.
—don’t optimise it to death.
Tezca gives a crooked smile.
TEZCA
No promises.
(Helder salutes.)
HELDER
We’ll try not to turn it into a case study.
TEZCA
(bursts out laughing) You of all people to say that, Helder.
HELDER
(Grabbing and kissing him) I’ll let you look at my microscope again.
26TH KABESA
Ew. Laboratory hygiene, please.
TEZCA
(chortling) …he says after calling himself a precision instrument at the bar.
26TH KABESA
If only you knew.
They exit back into the bar. The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa watches them go. Shakes his head, smiling despite himself.
26TH KABESA
(repeating the last sentence, with a distinctly different tone) If only you knew.
He fixes the button at last, like sealing something back into place.
26TH KABESA
(Looking at the audience) Alright. Straightforwardly, since we’re already doing… whatever this is. (He points to his forehead.) Siruwi. (He points to his heart). Also siruwi. (He considers pointing to his genital area, then shrugs). Kinda also siruwi, but different. Or maybe not.
Siruwi is what happens when two Kristang people are connected enough that emotion stops behaving like a private property.
It moves.
Not as a message. Not as a sentence. Not as “telepathy” the way all those beautiful old world science fiction fantasised about it.
More like… you walk into a room and you’re suddenly holding someone else’s weather in your chest.
A feeling. An image. A pulse of meaning with no words attached.
A vibe so specific it becomes information.
It’s psychoemotional transference, but healthy. Or it’s supposed to be.
In my present— your far future—it becomes safe. Functional. Deliberate. Because by then there’s something called the arvahang behind it: an invisible community-scale storehouse, a matrix, a reservoir. A place where all that psychoemotional load can actually be carried without frying people.
My predecessor, the Twenty-Fifth Kabesa, had it. She and the Twenty-Fourth. The Twenty-Fourth was the one who figured out it was growing inside the Kabesa role, like a beautiful seed. Or a demon, depending on how you feel about your Chief and leader being able to accidentally acquire your feelings and thoughts accurately.
Neither of them ever told anyone. Not officially. Not privately. Not in a way that could be quoted and weaponised.
Though it cost them both. I never understood either of them until it was too late.
He grimaces, remembering.
So now, I have it too.
But it’s still new to me. And new to the human race. Because…I haven’t told anyone about it either. I’m still learning how to use it, though I’ve had it for twelve years.
So when siruwi happens, it happens unevenly. Wildly. Sometimes beautifully, sometimes like touching an exposed wire with your tongue.
I’m the third Kabesa with it.
And I’m not allowed to tell people I do.
A pause. He shrugs, like: rules are rules, but also, look at us.
So what does that mean, practically?
It means I know things about the people I love that they haven’t decided to say yet.
It means I can feel the moment honesty becomes urgent.
It means I can tell the difference between “fine” and fine.
He exhales.
And it means if I ever turn that into authority, I become a monster with perfect manners.
That’s the hazard. Not the power.
He leans back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, listening to the bass through brick.
So when I said I have a psychic spidey-sense thing…
That’s the joke version.
The real version is:
sometimes the city sends you a warning through the people you would die for, and you feel it before anyone has the chance to pretend they don’t.
He pushes off the wall.
Anyway.
He nods once, sharply, as if to close a file.
Back to the dance?
He reaches for the fire door. Stops.
And if you’re wondering whether that’s fair to them…
He smiles, small and wicked.
It’s February 2315.
Nothing is fair. It’s just… true.
He pulls the fire door handle, and it comes off in his hands. The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa is completely unsurprised by this.
26TH KABESA
Man, these felisi…fine. (He turns back to the audience). One more thing. Since we’re being honest about what’s fair.
Siruwi is not a party trick.
It’s not intimacy on demand.
It doesn’t mean I’m surrounded.
It means I am alone in very specific ways.
A pause.
I feel people before they choose to let me in.
I know when I’ve been needed before I’ve been wanted.
I can tell when someone is reaching for me because I’m useful, not because I’m… me.
He shrugs, but there’s effort in it.
That does something to your appetite for being held.
A pause.
You learn not to ask for reassurance, because you already know the answer they haven’t finished lying to themselves about yet.
You learn to keep your mouth shut when someone says “I’m fine,” because correcting them would feel like theft.
He looks down. Then back up.
What isn’t fair is this:
I can’t unknow what I know.
I can’t turn it off.
And I’m not allowed to ask anyone to meet me there.
Pause.
The Twenty-Fifth Kabesa had eighteen years of that.
I’ve had… what, a decade of warning shots, and things falling apart because I know too much, without ever being able to tell anyone what you know.
He exhales.
People assume leadership is isolating because of power.
No.
It’s isolating because you’re not permitted to be witnessed in the way you witness others.
He gestures vaguely at the club, the alley, the night.
I can walk into a room and feel when someone’s about to fall apart, but I can’t say,
“Hey. I am, too.”
Not without changing the entire metaphysics of the moment.
Quiet.
So when I say those four beautiful people that I currently love don’t get to optimise their love to death—
when I say they don’t get to pretend honesty is optional—
It’s not because I’m wiser.
It’s because I’m jealous as hell. Of Ignatius Aeria, Ariston Theseira, Helder Balasubramaniam and Tezca Marvinson de Vries. Jealous as fucking hell.
A small, raw laugh.
They get to argue badly.
They get to fuck it up and repair it in public.
They get to be seen wanting without it becoming policy.
He nods once, accepting it.
That’s what isn’t fair to me.
Pause.
And I guess…that’s fine.
But it isn’t. He reaches for the door again. This time, he opens it.
I guess I did choose the job. All of us Kabesa did.
He glances back, just once.
I guess I just didn’t choose to be this awake while doing it.
He steps inside. The bass swells. The alley empties.
Act I, Scene II: Soft Systems Under Load
A home in the outskirts of Corepoint. Night. Lights low, warm, forgiving. The space adapts gently: seating already shifted into something looser, more human. Everything looks lived-in. Nothing looks tense. The door opens. TEZCA and HELDER enter first, laughing too quietly. JEROME IGNATIUS AERIA follows, very clearly drunk, shoes in one hand, jacket slung over the other arm like a surrendered flag. ARISTON REUEL HAO-RAN THESEIRA is already inside, curled on the couch, half-watching the door, half-listening to the house breathe.
TEZCA
Okay…(slurring a little) Nobody speak too fast.
HELDER
I can’t promise that.
IGNATIUS
(also slurring) I can’t promise anything.
(Ignatius drops his shoes. Misses the mat. Doesn’t care. Ariston smiles.)
ARISTON
Bong pamiang.
IGNATIUS
There you are.
He says it like relief. Like gravity.
HELDER
He’s been saying that about furniture for ten minutes.
IGNATIUS
The furniture understands me.
Ignatius sits immediately next to Ariston, closer than intended, then closer than that, leaning fully into him.
ARISTON
You smell like bad decisions.
IGNATIUS
Expensive bad decisions.
TEZCA
Communal bad decisions.
Tezca flops into a chair backward, legs over the arm, perfectly balanced and absolutely not.
HELDER
I, alone, remain undrunk.
TEZCA
Please. You’re almost drunk.
HELDER
I am… approaching drunk.
IGNATIUS
(slurring) Yo chegah…prumiru. I was definitely first to arrive.
TEZCA
No contest.
HELDER
Mr Aeria for Kabesa di Jenti Tokadu.
Ariston slides an arm around Ignatius without comment. Ignatius exhales like he’s been holding himself upright on purpose.
ARISTON
And I stayed home.
IGNATIUS
I know.
ARISTON
I didn’t want to—
IGNATIUS
You don’t have to explain.
Ariston is a little stunned.
HELDER
That was very healthy of you, Mr Aeria.
IGNATIUS
I’m drunk.
TEZCA
Still counts.
A pause. Comfortable.
ARISTON
Did you have fun?
IGNATIUS
Yes.
A pause.
IGNATIUS
No.
Another pause.
IGNATIUS
I missed you.
Ariston smiles, warm, a little sad.
ARISTON
I was right here.
IGNATIUS
I know. That’s the problem.
Helder sits carefully, like gravity might change its mind.
HELDER
I almost danced.
TEZCA
You danced emotionally.
HELDER
I resented rhythm.
TEZCA
Which is your version of dancing.
Ignatius lifts his head slightly.
IGNATIUS
Did you eat?
ARISTON
Yes.
IGNATIUS
Did you eat enough?
ARISTON
Mr Jerome Ignatius Aeria. I’m very slightly older than you.
IGNATIUS
I’m drunk. Yo sa nomi Kabesa di Jenti Tokadu.
Ariston laughs, leans his forehead against Ignatius’s.
ARISTON
I missed you too, Kabesa di Jenti Tokadu. But only you. The club can keep the other two.
HELDER
I don’t feel like arguing tonight.
TEZCA
Good. I don’t have the motor skills.
Tezca comes to curl up with both Ignatius and Ariston.
TEZCA
I love this configuration.
HELDER
You love every configuration.
TEZCA
Except the ones where you opt-out.
HELDER
Body trauma.
IGNATIUS
You didn’t say that when you grabbed the Kabesa’s butt.
HELDER
That’s his body trauma.
Aris gets up and pats Helder’s butt gently and tenderly.
ARISTON
On behalf of the leadership of the Kristang people.
HELDER
(awkwardly folding Ariston into an embrace; he wasn’t fully joking about the body trauma) We’re here.
TEZCA
(leading them both back to the sofa) We’re drunk-adjacent.
Ignatius nods, satisfied.
IGNATIUS
Okay.
He shifts, carefully, as if redistributing weight.
IGNATIUS
As Kabesa di Jenti Tokadu, I have decided I am going to fall asleep like this.
ARISTON
I’ll watch.
HELDER
I’ll get water.
TEZCA
I’ll supervise the water.
Helder stands. Tezca stands with him, immediately swaying.
TEZCA
I am both drunk and not-drunk.
HELDER
Subanatomically, I would respectfully like to disagree.
TEZCA
Point your microscope somewhere else.
ARISTON
It’s quantum superposition.
IGNATIUS
(earnestly and blearily) I contain multitudes and tequila.
Helder and Tezca head-sway toward the kitchen. Ariston stays still. Ignatius breathes.
IGNATIUS
If we’re talking about quantum states…thank you for ontologically being the house tonight.
ARISTON
Thank you for epistemologically coming home.
Ignatius smiles, already half gone.
IGNATIUS
Love you.
ARISTON
Love you.
From the kitchen: the clink of a cup. Water running. Then stopping too abruptly.
HELDER (offstage)
Tezca.
TEZCA (offstage)
I’m here.
HELDER (offstage)
No, you’re performing “here.”
TEZCA (offstage)
Correct. Quantum…slumberposition. I am both drunk and not-drunk and therefore everywhere.
A cabinet closes. Very gently. Too gently. Helder returns first, carrying two cups, expression controlled in the way that suggests he has decided not to be annoying but is about to be anyway. Tezca returns behind him, empty-handed, eyes bright, smile innocent, brain packed away gingerly in foil in the microwave.
HELDER
Water.
He sets one cup on the table. Ignatius cracks one eye open, notices, pleased.
IGNATIUS
(soft, reverent) Alignment.
ARISTON
He’s Pavlovian.
TEZCA
He’s romantic.
HELDER
Both—
TEZCA
—are the same thing! I knew it. KNEW IT.
HELDER
I love you.
TEZCA
My collar’s in the wash.
HELDER
Your muzzle isn’t.
Tezca kisses Helder on the cheek. Ignatius reaches for the cup. Misses. Ariston catches it without looking, like this is a daily sport.
IGNATIUS
Thank you, my beloved catchment basin.
ARISTON
Anytime, my beloved fallen architecture.
Ignatius drinks. Then makes a face.
IGNATIUS
This water tastes like judgement.
HELDER
It’s water.
IGNATIUS
It’s ethical water. Ugh.
Helder sits, exhales. Tezca perches on the arm of the couch like a cat with tenure.
TEZCA
Okay. Great. Everyone watered. Everyone home. Everyone safe.
He says “safe” like it’s a dare.
ARISTON
Tezca.
TEZCA
What?
ARISTON
Don’t do that voice.
TEZCA
I don’t know what you mean.
Ignatius shifts, nestles deeper into Ariston. Then, unprompted, points vaguely toward the door.
IGNATIUS
Oh yeah. Ari. We saw him.
A pause.
HELDER
Who?
ARISTON
Who is “him,” Iggy?
Ignatius blinks slowly, as if the world is buffering.
IGNATIUS
The Kabesa.
Helder’s eyes flick to Tezca. Tezca’s smile breaks suddenly, then widens a millimetre.
HELDER
You “saw” him.
TEZCA
We saw him in the alley.
ARISTON
There was an alley?
IGNATIUS
There’s always an alley.
Ariston doesn’t laugh. Not yet.
ARISTON
Okay.
He keeps his voice gentle, but his hand tightens around Ignatius’s.
Why didn’t you tell me?
HELDER
They did say I grabbed his butt.
IGNATIUS
We did say that.
TEZCA
I watched.
IGNATIUS
I approved.
ARISTON
I thought you meant (shaking Ignatius gingerly) our friend Kabesa di Jenti Tokadu. Yall ran into the real Twenty-Sixth Kabesa?
TEZCA
While we were busy respecting your decision to stay home.
ARISTON
That’s not an answer.
HELDER
It’s a…deflection wearing Marvinson manners.
Tezca makes an exaggerated face of innocence, as if trying to defuse the situation. It does not defuse.
TEZCA
(unstably) I would never.
Helder and Ignatius are visibly uncomfortable. Ignatius raises his cup like he’s at a meeting.
IGNATIUS
He was… very…
He searches for a word, loses it, gives up and uses his hands instead: a little drunken shake, a little grin.
ARISTON
Very what?
IGNATIUS
Very Kabesa.
Helder snorts. Tezca cackles.
HELDER
That’s useless.
TEZCA
It’s perfect.
Ariston watches them. He’s quiet in a way that makes the room slow down.
ARISTON
Did you talk to him?
Helder glances away. Tezca whistles like a cartoon criminal.
HELDER
Briefly.
ARISTON
And?
Ignatius, without malice, supplies the missing heat.
IGNATIUS
Tezca kissed him.
TEZCA
I did. Twice.
IGNATIUS
I did too. In my mind. Also in reality, but I was not functional.
HELDER
I think you kissed his elbow.
TEZCA
Still a kiss.
IGNATIUS
Though not as…sizeable as yours.
TEZCA
It was a hello.
HELDER
It was not a hello.
TEZCA
It was a culturally dense hello.
Ariston’s eyebrows lift. He looks at Tezca, then Helder, then back at Tezca.
ARISTON
You kissed the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
TEZCA
I kissed a man in an alley.
HELDER
Well, if you had kissed the Twenty-Fifth Kabesa…
IGNATIUS
Or the Twenty-Fourth…
TEZCA
Details.
Ariston’s mouth opens, then closes. He tries to choose the adult response. It takes effort.
ARISTON
Okay.
He nods once. Again.
Okay.
IGNATIUS
I was proud.
Ariston turns his head slowly.
ARISTON
Iggy.
IGNATIUS
What? He’s hot.
ARISTON
Why did yall think this was okay?
No one answers immediately. The bass of the nightclub is gone now. Just house sounds. Fabric shifting. Breath.
HELDER
We’re not closed, are we?
ARISTON
No, but…(looks at Tezca)…never mind.
HELDER
I thought you didn’t want these kinds of adventures.
ARISTON
It’s not that.
IGNATIUS
I thought you enjoyed being at home.
ARISTON
It’s not that either.
TEZCA
I thought you’d looked like you’d finally stopped bracing.
Ariston’s look shoots daggers at Tezca.
ARISTON
So you decided for me.
Tezca opens his mouth. Helder beats him to it.
HELDER
It was me.
ARISTON
No, Held, I love you too much to know when it was not you.
HELDER
I thought you were done.
ARISTON
Don’t lie to me.
IGNATIUS
He did.
HELDER
And I don’t feel great about it.
A pause. Ariston is still looking at Tezca.
ARISTON
(warily) Thank you.
TEZCA
I’m…I….
ARISTON
I know.
He says it gently, which makes it worse.
ARISTON
I know. (sighs) I figured it would happen. Felisi, right?
Tezca stills. He doesn’t like that word.
TEZCA
No.
ARISTON
Yes.
Ariston shifts, sits up straighter, still holding Ignatius like an anchor. Domestic. Intimate. Firm.
ARISTON
I stayed home because I didn’t have the energy for this kind of thing.
Not because I wanted to be excluded from reality.
Ignatius’s eyes open fully for a second, sober in the middle of drunk.
IGNATIUS
We can fix that.
HELDER
Not tonight.
IGNATIUS
Tonight is when we fix things.
He tries to sit up. Ariston holds him in place with practiced tenderness.
ARISTON
No, love. Tonight we drink water and we don’t make plans.
Ignatius pouts, then relents, forehead dropping against Ariston’s shoulder.
TEZCA
(in a small voice) I’m sorry Ari.
IGNATIUS
Tezca shouldn’t kiss Chiefs of the Kristang without consent forms.
ARISTON
It’s okay. (walks over to Tezca and gives him a hug.) It’s not like that anymore, right?
TEZCA
I knew what I was doing.
HELDER
You had vibes.
Ariston watches Tezca.
TEZCA
I thought it was all cool, Ari.
ARISTON
(shrugging, trying to make it cool.) It is. It was. Whatever. Look, don’t mind me. I’m…I’m tired.
IGNATIUS
You’re beautiful.
HELDER
(A little too quickly) We all are.
IGNATIUS
And all really tired.
HELDER
(Again, a little too quickly) Time for bed, right?
IGNATIUS
(Also a little too quickly) Time for bed.
The four kiss tenderly and prepare for bed, but there is tension in the air that has yet to disappear, and in the way Ariston and Tezca seem to suddenly be avoiding each other.
Act I, Scene III: Rules We Don’t Say Aloud
Very late night or very early morning. The house has gone quiet in the particular way that only happens after everyone agrees to sleep without actually agreeing. Lights low, cooler now. The adaptive walls have shifted into night mode. Somewhere deeper in the house, a faint hum: climate, systems, breath. But we are in the kitchen. Dim. Ariston, unable to sleep, stands at the counter, hands flat on the surface, grounding himself. He pours water. Doesn’t drink it.
A soft sound behind him. Enter Helder, a little clumsily.
ARISTON
I wasn’t going to wake anyone.
HELDER
You didn’t.
Helder moves closer, not touching yet. He knows better.
HELDER
Do you want company or quiet.
Ariston thinks.
ARISTON
Company.
But the non-inquisitive kind.
HELDER
I excel at that.
He leans against the counter beside Ariston. Close, but angled away. Presence without pressure.
Silence again. This one is heavier.
ARISTON
He kissed him.
Helder doesn’t pretend not to understand.
HELDER
Yes.
ARISTON
In an alley.
HELDER
Yes.
ARISTON
And no one thought to stop him.
Helder exhales through his nose. Careful.
HELDER
I thought about it.
ARISTON
But you didn’t.
HELDER
No. I didn’t.
Ariston finally turns, looks at him. There’s no accusation. Just old memory surfacing.
ARISTON
Do you remember what we agreed?
Helder nods immediately.
HELDER
Yes, Ari. I love you and I always will remember.
ARISTON
All of it?
HELDER
All of it that you allowed us to remember.
Ariston lets out a quiet, humourless breath.
ARISTON
Right.
He takes a sip of water now. Winces slightly, like it’s too cold.
ARISTON
We said we were done carrying it.
HELDER
We are. I was done too.
ARISTON
We said we wouldn’t build new memories on top of it.
HELDER
We didn’t.
ARISTON
Tezca did.
HELDER
Yes.
Another silence. This one is fragile.
HELDER
I don’t think Tezca meant to break the rule.
ARISTON
No. But that almost makes it worse.
Helder nods. Slowly.
HELDER
Because it means he forgot why it exists.
Ariston swallows.
ARISTON
Or, like he said, he thought I was past needing it.
HELDER
And you’re not. I guess? Is that right?
ARISTON
I don’t know.
Helder finally reaches out, very awkwardly. Not to grab. Just two fingers resting lightly against Ariston’s wrist. A check.
HELDER
(with a bit of effort, as if figuring out how to make a script more natural) Do you want me to hold you?
Ariston’s shoulders drop a fraction.
ARISTON
Of course babe.
Helder steps in, slow, deliberate, wraps Ariston into him from the side. No squeezing. Just containment. Ariston leans in, forehead against Helder’s shoulder. Breath evens.
ARISTON
I love you.
HELDER
I love you so very much, Ariston.
ARISTON
I hate that it was him.
HELDER
The Kabesa.
ARISTON
Yes. And not because he kissed Tezca, but because…You know. When it went down with Tezca, before we got together…when it happened… before we were all of this…
He was there.
He mediated.
HELDER
And you survived that..
ARISTON
I did.
He pulls back slightly, looks at Helder.
ARISTON
But surviving it required a rule, right? Remember? When we four got together. No reminders of what came before.
HELDER
No reminders.
ARISTON
No new memories that touch that one.
HELDER
Including him.
Ariston nods.
ARISTON
Especially him.
Helder absorbs this. His jaw tightens.
HELDER
So Tezca kissing him—
ARISTON
—doesn’t hurt because it’s jealousy. Yall know me. I’m the least jealous person in Corepoint.
He shakes his head.
ARISTON
It hurts because it breaks the seal.
Helder’s arms tighten just a little. Protective now.
HELDER
Thank you for telling me, Ari.
ARISTON
I didn’t want to make it bigger.
HELDER
You didn’t, my love.
A pause, as Ariston cries a bit into Helder’s arms. From the other side of the stage, unseen by both Helder and Ariston, TEZCA stands for a moment, listening. He doesn’t interrupt, quickly turns away and exits in the opposite direction.
HELDER
Do you want me to talk to him?
Ariston thinks again. Long.
ARISTON
Not tonight.
HELDER
Tomorrow.
ARISTON
Maybe.
He exhales.
ARISTON
I don’t want to punish him for forgetting. You know? I know how he and Iggy are with other boys. You too, when you’re…excited.
HELDER
(flushing a bit to be seen, but also grateful for it) We won’t. But we also won’t pretend it didn’t matter.
Ariston nods. Relief flickers.
ARISTON
Thank you, my love.
Helder presses an awkward kiss into Ariston’s hair. Chaste. Grounding.
HELDER
You’re allowed to still have edges. Like my mom and my grandma used to say.
ARISTON
Even now?
HELDER
Especially now, Ari.
Another silence. Softer.
ARISTON
Will you stay until I’m sleepy again?
HELDER
Yes. And then I will collapse on the kitchen floor because I am tired.
They stand like that for a moment longer. Then Ariston gently guides Helder back toward the bedroom.
ARISTON
Let me change that timeline too.
They pause at the door / stage exit. Inside, Ignatius snores on faintly, unbothered.
ARISTON
Iggy doesn’t know.
HELDER
I think he doesn’t need to. For now. Or he may have worked it out on his own. But we can talk to him about it tomorrow night after work.
Ariston nods.
ARISTON
Okay.
They slip back into the room.
Act II
Act II, Scene I: What Doesn’t Get Held
Early morning, but of course since this is a Kristang play, not the kind that forgives you and the kind that has this printed in the script. Corepoint just before dawn. The city is quieter than it was meant to be, like it’s holding its breath out of courtesy.
A pedestrian way beneath layered transit ribs and soft-lit structural arches. Not an alley. Not private. A place people pass through when they don’t want to be followed.
The 26th Kabesa sits on a low edge of composite stone, jacket folded beside him, sleeves rolled, shoes off. He is barefoot against warm infrastructure, eyes closed, counting something internal.
Enter Tezca, alone. He is visibly hungover but more lucid now: gait loose, eyes sharp, affect open but careful. He stops a few metres away, unsure whether to announce himself.
Siruwi ripples faintly. The Kabesa opens his eyes.
26TH KABESA
You don’t have to sneak.
I’m very bad at not noticing you.
TEZCA
(winces, then smiles anyway)
That tracks.
26TH KABESA
Don’t you have somewhere to be?
TEZCA
I took the day off. (pause) Don’t you?
26TH KABESA
Oh, this is where I needed to be, don’t worry.
A pause. Tezca steps closer, then stops again.
TEZCA
I wasn’t sure if I was…
allowed.
26TH KABESA
To walk?
To talk?
To be hungover in public infrastructure?
TEZCA
To be here.
The Kabesa studies him. No judgement. Just calibration.
26TH KABESA
You’re here already.
TEZCA
Right.
(then, quieter)
Okay.
He comes closer, sits a careful distance away. Close enough to matter. Far enough to breathe.
TEZCA
I think I owe you… something.
26TH KABESA
You don’t owe me anything.
TEZCA
That’s worse.
The Kabesa snorts, just a little.
26TH KABESA
Fair.
A pause. Tezca rubs his hands together, grounding.
TEZCA
I kissed you.
26TH KABESA
You did.
TEZCA
And before you say anything—
26TH KABESA
I wasn’t going to.
TEZCA
—okay, good, because I don’t actually regret the kiss.
A pause.
TEZCA
But I regret…
the timing.
And the context.
And the ripple effects I pretended I couldn’t see.
The Kabesa tilts his head slightly. Listening.
26TH KABESA
You were drunk.
TEZCA
Yes.
26TH KABESA
And not-drunk.
TEZCA
Also yes. That’s the dangerous setting.
Silence. The city hums.
TEZCA
I didn’t do it to make a point.
Or to claim anything.
Or to test anyone.
26TH KABESA
I know.
TEZCA
I did it because you felt…
reachable.
That lands.
26TH KABESA
I was.
TEZCA
And that’s not your fault.
26TH KABESA
No.
TEZCA
But it is…
complicated.
26TH KABESA
Everything good is.
Tezca laughs softly, then sobers again.
TEZCA
Fuck.
26TH KABESA
(Approvingly) You do realise exactly what the fuck you are doing, right?
TEZCA
Give it to me.
26TH KABESA
Pay me.
TEZCA
I kissed you.
26TH KABESA
If we’re counting that as payment, you owe me an entire city. Made of your own beautiful golden shit.
TEZCA
Why do I allow you to talk to me this way?
26TH KABESA
Because without me, and I mean this in the best possible way without guilt or shame, you would—
TEZCA
I know. Have literally nothing. I know.
He cries into the Kabesa’s arms.
26TH KABESA
Overapologising to me about nothing instead of resolving the real issue is, unsurprisingly, not going to solve the real issue.
TEZCA
(whispering, terrified) I’m so fucking scared I broke Ari.
26TH KABESA
You didn’t break Ari. He’s sturdier than that.
TEZCA
(hoarsely) Then why does it feel like—
26TH KABESA
Because you reopened something that was sealed on purpose.
Tezca nods falteringly. Tears spill again, but quieter.
TEZCA
I thought…I really thought he was past it.
26TH KABESA
You don’t get to decide when someone is past something
just because they look functional.
TEZCA
I didn’t mean to decide.
26TH KABESA
Intent doesn’t undo impact.
Silence. Long. The city breathes around them.
TEZCA
So what do I do?
The Kabesa meets his eyes fully now.
26TH KABESA
Well, first, bitch, you don’t ask me to make this okay.
TEZCA
I’m not—
26TH KABESA
(Not unkindly) You are.
I love you, but that’s what this is.
He gestures between them. Between Tezca’s hands, his chest, his shaking breath.
26TH KABESA
I’m not the person who gets to absolve you.
And if I did, it would poison all of this.
TEZCA
Then what am I supposed to do with this?
26TH KABESA
You just carry it.
Without performance.
Without rushing to repair.
Without making yourself the centre of the experience.
Tezca flinches. Nods.
TEZCA
Fuck.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
A pause.
TEZCA
I don’t want to lose them.
26TH KABESA
You’re not going to.
TEZCA
How do you know?
26TH KABESA
Because they’re not fragile.
Clumsy, yes.
Ugly, a little bit. (Tezca laughs).
But they are precise.
He leans forward slightly.
26TH KABESA
And precision means consequences.
Tezca breathes through it.
TEZCA
So… Ari.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
TEZCA
Not now.
26TH KABESA
Correct.
TEZCA
Not dramatically.
26TH KABESA
Correct.
TEZCA
Not with apologies stacked like…like…
26TH KABESA
Offerings. Yes. No altars. Especially not that.
Tezca gives a wet, broken laugh.
TEZCA
God, I hate how well you see this.
26TH KABESA
Imagine how much I hate not being allowed to intervene.
TEZCA
(somewhat wheedlingly) I mean, you could make this easier.
26TH KABESA
I could make it faster, darling. Which is what I’m already doing right now.
He stands, slowly. Puts his shoes back on.
26TH KABESA
Birah kaza.
Bebeh agu.
Santah kaladu, santah kuriozu.
You go home.
You drink water.
You sit with the discomfort without narrating it.
TEZCA
And then?
26TH KABESA
Then when Ari comes to you—
because he will, in his own time—
you listen.
And if he doesn’t…
you wait.
Tezca nods, jaw tight.
TEZCA
I don’t get to be comforted for this.
26TH KABESA
No.
Not cruel. Just true.
TEZCA
I don’t get to make it about my fear.
26TH KABESA
Correct.
TEZCA
I don’t get to use you as a buffer.
26TH KABESA
I can only be a very physically soft and heavy weight, not a psychoemotional one.
A long silence. Then Tezca exhales, steadier. He stands too. Wobbles. Regains balance.
TEZCA
Thank you for not letting me hide in you.
26TH KABESA
That’s the only favour I can give you.
Tezca hesitates, then nods deeply. No hug this time. No touch.
TEZCA
I’ll do it properly.
26TH KABESA
I know.
Tezca turns and walks away. This time, slower. More alone. The Kabesa watches until he’s gone. Then, quietly, to himself:
26TH KABESA
That’s the part they never tell you about love.
Sometimes the kindest thing you can do
is refuse to hold it.
He breaks a little, too, and cries a little.
God, how I wish I didn’t know what I know.
Act II, Scene II: Heat Without Shelter
Late morning. The bedroom. Clothes half-discarded with intention rather than mess. Low light. The air still warm from bodies that were here recently, or could have been. A glass of water sweats on the bedside table, untouched. Ignatius is sprawled across the bed diagonally, shirt half-unbuttoned, drunk in the honest, loose-limbed way. Not incoherent. Just unguarded. Tezca stands in the doorway. Not hungover now. Or hungover only in the dangerous places. He hasn’t announced himself.
IGNATIUS
(not opening his eyes)
Koitadu, bos. Forgetting how doors work.
You can come in.
If you’re going to pretend you’re not already here, at least commit.
Tezca steps in. Closes the door softly.
TEZCA
You’re still awake.
IGNATIUS
You know I’m professionally incapable of sleeping after emotional events.
Also it was that much tequila.
Tezca moves closer. Sits on the edge of the bed. Close enough that their knees touch.
TEZCA
You smell like sweat and victory.
IGNATIUS
I smell like dancing badly and being forgiven anyway.
He opens one eye. Looks at Tezca properly now.
IGNATIUS
Hey.
TEZCA
Hey.
A beat. The kind that hums.
IGNATIUS
You look like you’re about to ask for something and pretend you’re not.
TEZCA
I feel very seen.
IGNATIUS
It’s my worst trait.
Tezca laughs quietly. Then exhales.
TEZCA
Can you…
hold me?
Ignatius doesn’t answer immediately. He sits up instead, slow, deliberate. Pulls Tezca in without ceremony. Strong arms. Warm. Familiar.
Tezca melts into him instantly. Like this was the plan all along.
TEZCA
(muffled, relieved)
Fuck.
IGNATIUS
There it is.
He presses a kiss into Tezca’s hair. Then another. Lower. Not rushed. Not restrained.
IGNATIUS
You’re shaking.
TEZCA
I know.
IGNATIUS
Do you want me to fix that?
Tezca nods too fast.
TEZCA
Yes.
Ignatius’ hands slide down Tezca’s back, grounding, confident. He murmurs against his neck.
IGNATIUS
You’re beautiful when you’re like this.
All nerve. No brakes.
TEZCA
Don’t flatter me into compliance like your fucking building standards.
IGNATIUS
Oh, I absolutely will.
He kisses him. It’s messy. Familiar. Hot in the way of people who already know each other’s mouths. Tezca responds eagerly, breath hitching, hands grabbing at Ignatius’ shirt like an anchor. Ignatius’ hands are sure. Tezca’s are searching.
IGNATIUS
(murmuring, almost amused)
Hey.
Easy.
Tezca doesn’t stop, but he does slow. His forehead presses briefly against Ignatius’.
TEZCA
I missed this.
IGNATIUS
I know.
Ignatius’ thumb traces Tezca’s jaw. Affectionate. Familiar. Intimate without escalation.
IGNATIUS
You always miss it when you’re scared.
Tezca stiffens, just a fraction.
TEZCA
That’s not—
IGNATIUS
—an accusation.
Ignatius leans back against the headboard, bringing Tezca with him, but changing the angle. Less heat. More space. Still close.
IGNATIUS
It’s a pattern.
You come in hot when you don’t know where to put the noise.
Tezca exhales, shaky.
TEZCA
You make it quiet.
IGNATIUS
I make it quieter.
That’s not the same thing.
Tezca pulls back enough to look at him properly now.
TEZCA
Are you saying you don’t want me?
Ignatius blinks. Then snorts softly.
IGNATIUS
Jesus, no.
I want you constantly. That’s not the issue.
He cups Tezca’s face. Grounded. Certain.
IGNATIUS
I don’t want you using my body as a pressure valve.
The words are gentle. The boundary isn’t.
Tezca swallows.
TEZCA
I wasn’t trying to—
IGNATIUS
I know.
That’s why this is annoying.
A beat. Ignatius kisses Tezca again, slower now. Softer. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against Tezca’s.
IGNATIUS
If we keep going like this, you’ll feel better for twenty minutes.
Then worse.
Then you’ll hate yourself for needing it.
Tezca’s hands loosen. He doesn’t pull away, but the urgency drains.
TEZCA
You’re doing that thing again.
IGNATIUS
Which thing.
TEZCA
Where you’re right and it ruins everything.
IGNATIUS
I’m not right.
I’m just… paying attention.
Ignatius shifts again, this time creating unmistakable space. He keeps one hand on Tezca’s back. Anchoring. Not inviting.
IGNATIUS
I’m not rejecting you.
Tezca nods slowly.
TEZCA
But you’re stopping.
IGNATIUS
Yes.
Silence. It’s warm, but exposed now.
TEZCA
Because of Ari.
IGNATIUS
Because of you.
That lands harder.
IGNATIUS
You don’t actually want me right now.
You want relief.
Tezca’s eyes burn. He looks away.
TEZCA
That’s… unfairly accurate.
IGNATIUS
I specialise.
Ignatius reaches for the glass of water. Presses it into Tezca’s hand.
IGNATIUS
Drink.
TEZCA
That feels like a punishment.
IGNATIUS
You secretly feel your entire existence feels like a punishment. Don’t argue. I am Kabesa di Jenti Tokadu, and I have just made sure you are very tokadu indeed.
TEZCA
Tokadu by an angel.
IGNATIUS
If I’m an angel then heaven desperately needs to fire their head of HR.
Tezca drinks. His shoulders drop a little.
TEZCA
You still love me?
IGNATIUS
Wildly.
TEZCA
You’re not mad?
IGNATIUS
I’m annoyed in a very affectionate way.
A pause.
TEZCA
Can I stay?
IGNATIUS
Yes.
TEZCA
Can we… not do anything?
IGNATIUS
That’s literally what I’m suggesting.
Tezca lets out a shaky laugh. He leans sideways, resting his head against Ignatius’ shoulder instead of his chest. A compromise position.
Ignatius wraps an arm around him. Heavy. Safe.
IGNATIUS
You don’t have to earn love by being desirable.
TEZCA
Don’t say things like that when I’m already fragile.
IGNATIUS
I will say them louder when you’re sober.
They cuddle for a while, and then Tezca becomes restless.
IGNATIUS
Yeah, I figured.
TEZCA
(buried in Ignatius’s chest) Mmhmm.
IGNATIUS
You gonna tell me or what?
TEZCA
Mmmm.
IGNATIUS
Ari, Helder or the 26th Kabesa?
Tezca holds up one trembling finger. First one.
IGNATIUS
What is it with Ari?
TEZCA
(mumbling) Made him remember pre-Recon.
IGNATIUS
(exhaling slowly) Which part?
TEZCA
No specific part. Just…just because I kissed…
IGNATIUS
(making sense of it) Ah, yeah. I get it.
He doesn’t sound surprised. He sounds like a man slotting a final beam into place.
IGNATIUS
I don’t think you broke anything permanently. But you did… knock down a bit of a wall we agreed not to touch.
TEZCA
I didn’t think—
IGNATIUS
—I know.
Thinking wasn’t the failure mode. Pattern was.
Tezca goes very still.
TEZCA
Does he hate me?
IGNATIUS
No.
TEZCA
Is he scared of me again?
IGNATIUS
Yes.
Tezca flinches.
IGNATIUS
That doesn’t mean what you think it means.
TEZCA
It usually does.
IGNATIUS
Not this time.
Ignatius shifts so they’re both more upright. Not breaking contact. Just changing the geometry.
IGNATIUS
Ari being scared doesn’t mean he thinks you’re dangerous.
It means his nervous system remembered a time when it had to be very careful around you.
TEZCA
That sounds really bad when you say it out loud.
IGNATIUS
Most true things do.
TEZCA
Do you think he’ll talk to me?
IGNATIUS
Yes.
TEZCA
When?
IGNATIUS
When he’s sure you’re not going to make it about fixing you, or fixing him.
TEZCA
Don’t I have to fix him? Don’t I have to fix this?
IGNATIUS
(quiet, firm)
No.
TEZCA
(blinking)
What do you mean no?
IGNATIUS
I mean no, bitch. You don’t get to fix him. You don’t get to fix this. You don’t even get to fix yourself in the way you’re imagining.
TEZCA
But—
IGNATIUS
—but that’s the reflex. I know.
You break tension by repairing.
You soothe fear by offering yourself as labour.
Tezca stiffens, like something just got named too accurately.
TEZCA
But if I don’t do anything, I’m just… sitting in the damage.
IGNATIUS
Yes.
TEZCA
(beginning to spiral) But that feels cruel.
IGNATIUS
It feels cruel because you’re used to equating love with motion.
A pause. Tezca swallows.
TEZCA
What if he needs reassurance?
IGNATIUS
He does.
TEZCA
Then why can’t I give it?
IGNATIUS
Because reassurance given before safety is rebuilt feels like pressure. You really should become an architect. It would help a lot.
Tezca exhales sharply through his nose.
TEZCA
So I just… wait around being radioactive?
IGNATIUS
You wait around being present.
There’s a difference.
Silence stretches. Not empty. Charged.
TEZCA
(low) I hate this version of responsibility.
IGNATIUS
Me too.
It’s boring. And slow. And nobody applauds.
He squeezes Tezca’s shoulder once. Not comfort. Anchoring.
IGNATIUS
You’re allowed to want relief.
You’re just not allowed to take it from the wrong place.
TEZCA
Is that what I was doing?
IGNATIUS
You were trying to borrow certainty from bodies that already have history attached to them.
Tezca looks down at his hands.
TEZCA
I don’t know how to sit with this without spiralling.
IGNATIUS
You don’t sit alone.
TEZCA
But I can’t—
IGNATIUS
—you can sit with us without making us fix it for you.
A pause.
TEZCA
(whispering) But what if Ari never wants to be that close again?
IGNATIUS
(flatly) Then that will hurt, dude. And it will hurt for me too. And it still won’t mean you failed.
Tezca laughs weakly, incredulous.
TEZCA
You’re saying all the worst things very calmly.
IGNATIUS
(flatly, trying not to be overwhelmed as well) Because they’re survivable.
Tezca looks at him. Really looks.
TEZCA
How do you know?
IGNATIUS
Because I’ve been the person people needed to tiptoe around.
And I’ve been the person who did the tiptoeing.
He shifts, bringing Tezca’s hand to his chest, right over his heart.
IGNATIUS
Neither of those roles kills love.
What kills it is panic disguised as devotion.
Tezca’s fingers curl reflexively in Ignatius’ shirt.
TEZCA
I don’t want to lose him.
IGNATIUS
(slightly impatiently) Then don’t chase him.
TEZCA
I don’t want him to think—
IGNATIUS
(snapping a bit) Tezca, he’s not stupid.
And he’s not fragile in the way you’re afraid of.
Tezca thrashes.
IGNATIUS
(steady, using his own affectionate name for Tezca in Kristang) Alamak, isti Tezkainyu. Stop trying to get clean in one conversation.
TEZCA
I’m not trying to get clean.
I’m trying to breathe.
IGNATIUS
Then breathe.
Not perform.
A beat. Tezca swallows. Nods like it costs him.
TEZCA
So I just… sit here?
IGNATIUS
(gently) Yeah lah, fuck.
TEZCA
And it doesn’t go away.
IGNATIUS
No lah. Not today.
Ignatius shifts, makes space, then puts an arm around him anyway. Containment, not rescue. Tezca leans in. Careful. Still wired.
TEZCA
I hate this.
IGNATIUS
Good. No lies with me.
Tezca closes his eyes. His breathing evens. His hands don’t unclench.
IGNATIUS
(low) You’re safe.
TEZCA
(low, honest)
I’m fucked.
IGNATIUS
Both can be true at the same time.
Ignatius reaches over and sets the water within reach, like a quiet order.
IGNATIUS
I have to work.
He pats the glass of water.
IGNATIUS
We all do. So do you.
Tezca picks up the glass of water. Stares at it. Swallows hard, still crying.
Blackout.
Act II, Scene III: The Parts We Don’t Touch
Early afternoon. A civic overlook above Corepoint’s lower transit layers. Public, open, anonymous in the way only shared infrastructure can be. Wind moves through engineered gaps. Distant hum. No one close enough to overhear without trying. The TWENTY-SIXTH KABESA stands at the rail, jacket off, sleeves rolled. He is doing nothing in a way that is very deliberate. Enter HELDER, even slower and more deliebrate than usual. He sees the Kabesa immediately. Hesitates. Then approaches, stopping at a respectful distance.
26TH KABESA
You don’t have to hover. I’m not contagious.
HELDER
I’m not hovering.
I’m… calibrating.
The Kabesa smiles faintly. Helder gradually motions over, until they stand side by side now, looking out. The space between them is noticeable. Intentional.
HELDER
I have a question I probably shouldn’t ask you.
26TH KABESA
Then ask it carefully.
Helder considers. Chooses precision.
HELDER
Years ago.
Before we were… us.
Before the quad.
The Kabesa doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn.
HELDER
Something happened between Tezca and Ari.
A pause.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
HELDER
I don’t actually fully know what it was.
26TH KABESA
No.
HELDER
I know it was bad enough that it needed… mediation.
Another pause. Longer.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
Helder swallows. His jaw tightens, then releases.
HELDER
I’m not asking directly for details.
26TH KABESA
Good. Because I would not be able to provide them directly.
HELDER
Yes. I’m asking… sideways.
The Kabesa finally turns his head. Studies Helder, open but sharp.
26TH KABESA
I can answer sideways.
A pause.
26TH KABESA
Someone crossed a line the other person didn’t have language for yet.
Not violently.
Not accidentally.
Intentionally and carelessly, in the way that does the most damage.
Helder nods. Absorbing.
HELDER
So not a single moment.
26TH KABESA
No. A pattern.
Patterns echo.
Silence. Wind.
HELDER
And Ari agreed to reconciliation.
26TH KABESA
He did.
Because he is generous.
Because he wanted his future more than his anger.
And because he still cared about Tezca.
And still loved him.
Helder closes his eyes for half a second.
HELDER
Tezca agreed to… leave it behind.
26TH KABESA
Both of them did.
HELDER
And “it” meant you as well.
26TH KABESA
Especially me.
Helder turns fully now.
HELDER
Then him kissing you—
He stops himself. Breath. Tries again.
HELDER
—really wasn’t about you.
The Kabesa snorts quietly.
26TH KABESA
Very rarely is.
A pause.
HELDER
Yes. But it reopened something.
26TH KABESA
Yes. It reminded Ari’s body of a time when consent had to be negotiated under stress.
Helder’s hands curl into fists, then unclench.
HELDER
So it’s really not jealousy.
26TH KABESA
No.
HELDER
It’s safety.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
Silence again. Public space. No one listening. Or everyone.
Helder leans back against the rail, suddenly very aware of his own body. His shirt rides up slightly. He adjusts it automatically.
The Kabesa notices. Says nothing.
HELDER
Can I ask something else?
26TH KABESA
(following Helder’s eyes) We’re already both technically in trouble. Go on.
Helder meets his eyes. Holds it, then looks away first.
HELDER
(Very awkwardly and very quickly) Do you know how hard it is to be attracted to someone
when your body keeps filing objections?
The Kabesa’s expression softens. Not pity. Recognition.
26TH KABESA
I do.
HELDER
Everyone thinks I’m withholding.
Or controlled.
Or worse, uninterested.
26TH KABESA
And you’re not.
HELDER
I’m terrified of wanting someone I can’t safely move toward.
A pause. The Kabesa shifts, just slightly closer. Still not touching.
26TH KABESA
Well, you don’t owe anyone access to your body just because your mind is curious.
Helder laughs, short and sharp.
HELDER
Tell that to my libido.
26TH KABESA
Your libido is badly educated.
It can wait.
Another silence. This one warmer.
HELDER
You’re… distracting.
26TH KABESA
I get that a lot.
HELDER
I mean it respectfully.
26TH KABESA
Of course you do.
Helder studies the ground.
HELDER
If I wanted to—
Hypothetically—
Do something very ill-advised—
He gestures vaguely between them.
HELDER
—would you stop me?
The Kabesa answers without hesitation.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
Helder looks up, startled.
HELDER
Because you don’t want me?
26TH KABESA
Because you’re not asking from desire.
You’re asking from strain.
HELDER
(suddenly whispering) That’s… annoyingly accurate. As Iggy would say.
He breaks down and sobs a bit.
26TH KABESA
I try.
A pause. The tension remains, unresolved but steadier. Finally, the 26th Kabesa takes Helder’s hand gingerly, and still at a distance. Helder lets the hand be taken. He doesn’t squeeze back. He doesn’t pull away. He just breathes.
26TH KABESA
You’re carrying the weight of the entire fucking quad. Just trying to keep everyone and everything normal.
HELDER
I don’t know how to put it down without someone thinking I’m quitting. Ari’s not okay. Tezca’s not okay. I don’t know if Ignatius cares or not. (He gasps and shudders. Squeezes the Kabesa’s hand. And the Kabesa lets him.) I keep thinking if I hold it together long enough, it’ll… settle. (He looks clumsily and awkwardly at the Kabesa). What happens if I step back?
26TH KABESA
Things wobble.
HELDER
People get scared.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
HELDER
Someone might get hurt.
The Kabesa nods once.
26TH KABESA
Also yes.
Helder’s jaw tightens.
HELDER
That feels… irresponsible.
The Kabesa turns fully now. Not looming. Just present.
26TH KABESA
It only feels irresponsible because you’ve been confusing containment with care.
Helder blinks.
HELDER
What’s the difference?
26TH KABESA
Containment keeps things from spilling.
Care lets them move without tearing.
HELDER
(exhaling) And if I stop containing?
26TH KABESA
Then everyone has to start participating.
Helder exhales even more, shaky.
HELDER
They’re fucking bad at that.
26TH KABESA
So were you.
You over-learned.
Helder rubs a hand over his face.
HELDER
I don’t want Ari thinking I’m abandoning him.
I don’t want Iggy thinking I’m trying to take over his freedom.
I don’t want Tezca thinking…(he shudders) I don’t want Tezca thinking I think he’s a bad person. Because I don’t.
26TH KABESA
You’re not doing any of those things.
You’re trusting them to have their own nervous system.
HELDER
Even Tezca?
26TH KABESA
Even Tezca. Especially Tezca. Tezca is learning something very important right now.
Helder glances away.
HELDER
He hates it.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
Growth often feels like deprivation if you’re used to intensity.
Another silence. This one less sharp.
HELDER
And what if Ignatius really doesn’t care?
The Kabesa smiles faintly. Not amused. Fond.
26TH KABESA
Ignatius cares so much he sometimes mistakes restraint for indifference.
It’s his version of not making things worse.
Helder absorbs that.
HELDER
So what am I supposed to do?
The Kabesa releases Helder’s hand gently, like setting something back where it belongs.
26TH KABESA
You do less.
Helder almost laughs.
HELDER
That’s your advice?
26TH KABESA
My advice is you stop being the shock absorber.
Let the system feel its own load.
HELDER
And if it cracks?
26TH KABESA
Then it needed reinforcement somewhere else.
A long pause. Helder leans back against the rail again, shoulders dropping a fraction.
HELDER
I don’t want to be the reason it falls apart.
26TH KABESA
You’re not.
You’re the reason it’s lasted this long.
That lands. Helder swallows.
HELDER
That’s not reassuring.
26TH KABESA
It’s not meant to be.
It’s meant to be accurate.
They stand there together, not touching, not fixing. Just letting the city exist around them.
After a moment:
HELDER
Do you ever wish you could just… say what you know?
The Kabesa looks at him serenely.
HELDER
I know you know things. A lot of things. Do you ever wish you could just say…what you really know?
The Kabesa doesn’t hesitate again.
26TH KABESA
Every single damn day.
HELDER
And you don’t.
26TH KABESA
No.
HELDER
Why?
The Kabesa’s mouth curves, small and tired.
26TH KABESA
Because if I do, people stop learning how to hear not just each other.
You four stop learning how to hear yourselves.
HELDER
Right. (He shakes himself awake).
That would be bad.
26TH KABESA
Catastrophic.
Another silence. Then Helder straightens, decision settling in his body.
HELDER
Okay.
The Kabesa raises an eyebrow.
26TH KABESA
Okay?
HELDER
Okay. I’ll… step back.
Not disappear.
Just… stop bracing so hard.
The Kabesa smiles. Real this time.
26TH KABESA
That’s all anyone’s asking.
Helder exhales, steadier.
HELDER
(soft, almost to himself)
I hate that you make this feel survivable.
The Kabesa doesn’t answer. He just looks at him. Open. Still.
Helder hesitates exactly once. Then he kisses him.
It isn’t dramatic.
It isn’t careful.
It isn’t long.
It’s brief, steady, and unmistakably chosen.
The Kabesa freezes for half a second, then responds just enough to meet it. No hands. No pull. Just presence answering presence.
They separate almost immediately.
No one speaks.
Helder swallows, like something just recalibrated in his chest.
HELDER
…Okay.
The Kabesa nods once, slow, somewhat shaken but not overwhelmed.
26TH KABESA
…Okay.
Helder steps back. Straightens his shirt. Puts the distance back in place deliberately, like resetting a boundary after crossing it.
He turns and walks away without looking back.
The Kabesa stays at the rail, city spread out before him, jaw tight but expression calm.
Surface calm.
Nothing resolved.
Nothing broken.
Just something real now, sitting quietly where it can’t be unfelt.
Blackout.
Act II, Scene IV: Tezca, Unaccompanied
Late afternoon. The apartment is quiet in the way that follows a decision, not sleep. Light slants in through smart glass that has chosen “neutral.” A plant hums faintly. Nothing is broken. Nothing is fixed. Tezca stands barefoot in the kitchen. He pours water. Drinks half. Sets the glass down like it might roll away.
He waits.
Nothing happens.
He exhales, then laughs once, short.
TEZCA
(to the room)
Okay. Cool. Great. We are doing “fine.”
He wipes his mouth. Checks his phone. No messages. Locks it. Unlocks it. Locks it again.
He opens a drawer. Closes it. Opens a different one. Takes out a cloth. Starts wiping a counter that is already clean.
TEZCA
Right. This is good. This is… restraint.
He stops wiping. The cloth hangs in his hand.
TEZCA
I did the apology.
I did the listening.
I did the not-making-it-about-me.
A pause.
TEZCA
I even did the waiting.
He nods, as if someone has confirmed this.
TEZCA
So now the relief part happens. Right?
He waits. Longer this time.
The plant hums. The city breathes. Relief does not arrive.
TEZCA
…Ah.
He sets the cloth down very carefully. His hands are trembling. Sits at the table. Puts both feet flat on the floor like he was taught in some class he half-remembers.
TEZCA
Okay. So this is the part where I don’t get rewarded.
Another nod. Acceptance, rehearsed.
TEZCA
This is the part where being good doesn’t feel good.
He presses his palms together. Harder than necessary. Lets go.
TEZCA
I didn’t break anything.
I didn’t fix anything.
I just… stopped.
A small, unconvincing smile.
TEZCA
Apparently that counts as growth.
He leans back. Stares at the ceiling. Breathes in. Breathes out. The breathing is real. The calm is real. The want underneath it is also real.
TEZCA
(low)
I would like one hug that doesn’t mean anything.
He closes his eyes. Opens them again. Naturally, no hug arrives.
TEZCA
Right.
Still not how this works.
He stands. Picks up the glass. Drinks the rest. Sets it in the sink.
TEZCA
I can do this.
He believes it. He doesn’t like it.
Lights soften. The room remains steady. Tezca does too.
Surface calm.
The wanting stays.
Blackout, and then…the light comes back wrong.
Not brighter. Not darker. Just… flatter. Like colour has been stripped of its excuses.
The Dreaming Ocean stretches out in all directions. Not water, exactly. Not land. A slow, breathing surface of memory and probability, reflecting nothing faithfully. No horizon. No sky. Just depth pretending to be calm. TEZCA stands where his kitchen used to be. The surface does not ripple. It accepts him without comment.
A figure stands a short distance away, hands in pockets, posture relaxed in the way only earned exhaustion can manage.
OLDER TEZCA looks like him, but sharpened. Lines where indulgence used to be. Still beautiful. Still magnetic. But stripped of softness Tezca still believes he is entitled to keep.
TEZCA’s jaw tightens.
TEZCA
I’m doing what I was taught.
OLDER TEZCA
Ah.
There it is.
OLDER TEZCA circles him slowly, eyes sharp, predatory in the way only the self can manage.
OLDER TEZCA
Individuation.
Integration.
Embrace your future self.
(mocking, singsong)
“Lean toward who you will become.”
He stops directly in front of Tezca.
OLDER TEZCA
Tell me.
Which part of this looks like leaning?
TEZCA
I didn’t run.
OLDER TEZCA
You stalled.
TEZCA
I stopped doing damage.
OLDER TEZCA
You stopped feeling powerful.
That lands. Tezca flinches.
TEZCA
That’s not fair.
OLDER TEZCA
Neither is growing up.
You’ll notice I did it anyway.
TEZCA
You don’t get to talk to me like you’re better.
OLDER TEZCA
I get to talk to you like I survived your decisions.
A beat. The Ocean breathes.
TEZCA
You’re supposed to guide me.
OLDER TEZCA
No.
I’m supposed to haunt you until you stop lying.
TEZCA
I’m not lying.
OLDER TEZCA
You’re romanticising restraint.
TEZCA
I’m respecting boundaries.
OLDER TEZCA
You’re punishing yourself and calling it ethics.
Tezca steps back. The surface still does not ripple.
TEZCA
I didn’t make it about me.
OLDER TEZCA
You absolutely did.
You just made absence your performance.
TEZCA
That’s cruel. You’re cruel.
OLDER TEZCA
Yes.
And accurate.
A pause. Longer now. Tezca’s breathing speeds, then steadies.
TEZCA
I was taught that if I could see my future self, I should trust him.
OLDER TEZCA
You were taught a lot of things by people who needed you to be manageable.
TEZCA clenches his jaw.
TEZCA
If I move, I hurt someone.
If I stay still, I hurt myself.
So tell me which one you picked.
OLDER TEZCA
(smiles, not kindly)
Neither.
TEZCA
Then what?
OLDER TEZCA
I learned to let the wanting exist
without feeding it,
and without pretending that starving it made me good.
The Ocean darkens slightly. Not threatening. Honest, supposedly. Is it, though?
OLDER TEZCA
You’re addicted to being necessary.
When you can’t be needed, you try to be pure.
When purity doesn’t soothe you, you call it ethics.
TEZCA
(shaky)
I don’t want to be the problem.
OLDER TEZCA
That’s the tragedy.
You just didn’t like who you were when no one needed saving.
And because of that, you will always be the problem.
Tezca lunges at Older Tezca. Blackout.
Act III, Scene I: Borrowed Shelter
Late evening. The apartment again, but altered. Lights dimmer than habit. The house has shifted into a holding pattern rather than a welcome. Shoes by the door that belong to TEZCA are gone. The absence is loud. IGNATIUS is at the table, shirt off, towel around his neck, hair damp. He is post-work, post-shower, post-everything that requires performance. There is food half-eaten, abandoned not in distress but in distraction. He scrolls, then stops, then sets the device face-down as if pre-empting interruption.
The door opens. HELDER enters quietly, like he is testing whether he deserves to be here. He closes the door carefully behind him. Doesn’t lock it.
IGNATIUS
(without looking up)
Sup, big boy.
HELDER
Bong atadi. Tezca?
IGNATIUS
Went out. Ari still at the docks too. (A pause, as Iggy assesses Helder’s status.) You okay?
HELDER
(struggling) Define okay.
IGNATIUS
No.
HELDER huffs a weak laugh. Drops his bag. Doesn’t move closer yet.
HELDER
Can I… sit?
IGNATIUS
You live here.
HELDER
I know. I meant—
(gestures vaguely at Ignatius, and then weakly)
Near you.
Ignatius’s expression softens immediately. He pulls out the chair beside him with his foot.
IGNATIUS
C’mere.
Helder sits. Their knees touch. Ignatius reaches for Helder’s hand without ceremony, warm and grounding, thumb brushing the side of Helder’s palm in a way that says I’m here, you’re here, breathe. Helder exhales like he’s been holding it since morning.
HELDER
Thank you.
IGNATIUS
For what?
HELDER
For… existing stably.
IGNATIUS
That’s my brand.
He squeezes Helder’s hand once. Firm. Affectionate.
IGNATIUS
Rough day?
HELDER
Long day.
IGNATIUS
Same thing.
HELDER
Not always.
Ignatius hums, conceding the point. He stands, moves behind Helder, rests his hands lightly on Helder’s shoulders. No pressure yet. Just contact.
IGNATIUS
Tell me where it hurts.
HELDER
Everywhere.
IGNATIUS
Specifics.
HELDER
Chest.
Back.
Jaw.
Sense of responsibility.
IGNATIUS
Ah. The usual clusterfuck.
His thumbs begin slow, deliberate circles at the base of Helder’s neck. Careful. Ignatius knows Helder’s limits. He always does. Helder’s eyes close despite himself.
HELDER
Don’t—
Don’t stop.
IGNATIUS
I wasn’t planning to.
Silence. Breathing synchronises. The house adjusts, lights dimming another degree, as if reading the room better than the people inside it.
HELDER
(quiet) I don’t want to be strong right now.
IGNATIUS
Good.
I hate when you are.
Helder lets out a small, surprised sound. Almost a laugh. Almost a sob.
HELDER
Can I just… lean?
IGNATIUS
You are.
Helder leans back fully into Ignatius. Ignatius braces automatically, one arm around Helder’s chest, the other steady at his shoulder. Containment, not capture.
HELDER
I feel like if I stop paying attention, something bad will happen.
IGNATIUS
Something bad already happened.
HELDER stiffens.
IGNATIUS
(not unkind)
Not blame. Chronology.
HELDER
I keep thinking if I stay calm enough, careful enough, everyone will… regulate.
IGNATIUS
And where does that leave you?
HELDER
Tired.
IGNATIUS
Try empty.
Helder swallows.
IGNATIUS
HELDER
Can you just… hold me?
Ignatius doesn’t answer immediately. He tightens his arm around Helder, yes, but he also shifts them both, turning Helder slightly so they’re facing each other now. Not avoiding. Just recalibrating.
IGNATIUS
Yeah, I can hold you.
HELDER
Please.
IGNATIUS
But I need to know what you’re asking for.
Helder blinks. Opens his eyes. Meets Ignatius’ gaze.
HELDER
Comfort.
IGNATIUS
(Steely) Okay.
HELDER
And—
(he hesitates)
Relief.
The word lands between them. Ignatius doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t tighten either. He simply stills.
IGNATIUS
Relief how?
HELDER
I don’t know. I just—
I don’t want to feel this alone.
IGNATIUS
You’re not alone.
HELDER
I feel like I am.
IGNATIUS
That’s different.
A pause. The air changes. Not colder. Sharper.
IGNATIUS
What did you do?
HELDER
(gulps) I…you know the Tezca thing?
IGNATIUS
Yes. I talked to him just now.
HELDER
I talked to the 26th Kabesa. And…and…
IGNATIUS
Did it help?
HELDER
Yes, and no, and…oh god…
Ignatius stares at Helder.
HELDER
(whispering) I kissed him, Iggy…I kissed him.
Ignatius doesn’t react immediately.
Not the way Helder expects.
No flinch. No pullback. No sharp intake of breath.
He just… blinks.
IGNATIUS
You—
(then, genuinely puzzled)
You kissed him?
You kissed him?
HELDER
Yes.
IGNATIUS
Like…
(a vague, circular hand gesture)
Kissed-kissed, or—
Helder kisses Ignatius the way Helder kissed the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
IGNATIUS
Ah.
Ignatius nods once, slow. Files it somewhere labelled later. His hand stays where it is on Helder’s arm.
IGNATIUS
Okay.
HELDER
Okay?
IGNATIUS
Okay.
Another beat.
IGNATIUS
Did it help?
HELDER
Yes.
IGNATIUS
Good.
HELDER
And no.
IGNATIUS
(confused) Also tracks.
Ignatius releases Helder, moves back to his chair, sits. He rubs his face with both hands, more tired than alarmed.
IGNATIUS
Alright. So.
You kissed the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
You didn’t implode.
No one died.
The city is still standing.
HELDER
But—
IGNATIUS
—I’m inventorying. Let me finish.
He leans back, crosses his arms. Thinking, not judging.
IGNATIUS
Was it about him?
HELDER
No.
IGNATIUS
Was it about you?
HELDER
Not really.
IGNATIUS
Was it about strain?
HELDER
Very.
IGNATIUS
Mm.
Ignatius nods again. Calm. Almost too calm.
IGNATIUS
Then that part makes sense.
HELDER
Iggy—
IGNATIUS
No, listen, Helder.
I’m not upset.
I’m not threatened.
I’m not doing the jealous-partner thing.
HELDER
I know.
IGNATIUS
I really mean that.
He pauses. Stares at the table. Something shifts behind his eyes.
IGNATIUS
Wait.
HELDER
What.
IGNATIUS
…Fuck.
HELDER
What.
Ignatius sits forward abruptly now. The delayed reaction finally lands.
IGNATIUS
Ari.
HELDER
(helplessly) Yes.
IGNATIUS
You kissed him. You kissed the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
HELDER
I know.
IGNATIUS
The same him that Tezca kissed.
HELDER
I know.
IGNATIUS
The exactly-the-same-him we explicitly—
HELDER
I know, I know—
IGNATIUS
—agreed was off-limits because of pre-Recon Ari.
Helder closes his eyes.
HELDER
I didn’t think—
IGNATIUS
—not maliciously. I get that.
He exhales hard, runs a hand through his hair.
IGNATIUS
Shit.
HELDER
Say it.
IGNATIUS
This is going to hit Ari sideways.
HELDER
This is going to demolish Ari sideways.
IGNATIUS
Not because of you.
HELDER
I know (but he doesn’t mean it).
IGNATIUS
Not because of desire.
HELDER
I know (but he really doesn’t mean it).
Silence. Thick.
HELDER
I wasn’t trying to reopen anything.
IGNATIUS
I believe you.
HELDER
I wasn’t trying to replace Tezca.
IGNATIUS
I know.
HELDER
I wasn’t—
IGNATIUS
—trying to take something from Ari.
HELDER
Yes.
IGNATIUS
But his nervous system is going to read it as:
That line moved.
Helder swallows.
HELDER
Is this… bad?
IGNATIUS
Not catastrophic.
HELDER
…but?
IGNATIUS
But destabilising.
HELDER
For him?
IGNATIUS
For the quad.
Another pause.
HELDER
Are you destabilised?
IGNATIUS
(without hesitation) Yes. Of course.
HELDER
Do you hate me?
IGNATIUS
What? No. Fuck that inner critic.
HELDER
Are you angry?
IGNATIUS
I’m…
(searches)
Concerned in a logistical way.
HELDER
That’s worse.
IGNATIUS
Yeah, I know.
Ignatius stands, starts pacing, then forces himself to stop. He plants both hands on the table.
IGNATIUS
Okay. So here’s what we’re not doing.
HELDER
Okay.
IGNATIUS
We’re not panicking.
We’re not rushing to confession.
We’re not trying to “clear the air” before Ari’s ready.
HELDER
Agreed.
IGNATIUS
We’re not making this about Tezca.
And we’re definitely not making it about the Kabesa.
HELDER
Agreed.
IGNATIUS
And you—
He looks at Helder carefully now.
IGNATIUS
—you are not going to punish yourself.
HELDER
I wasn’t planning to.
IGNATIUS
I know you’re lying, but don’t, okay? Because that would also trigger Ari.
Helder lets out a weak, humorless laugh.
HELDER
Everything triggers Ari.
IGNATIUS
(struggling to believe what he is saying, but believes it) No.
Trauma triggers Ari.
Just like it triggers you.
Just like it triggers me.
Just like (he swallows) it triggers Tezca.
And probably also the Twenty-Sixth Kabesa.
HELDER
So what do we do?
Ignatius thinks. Really thinks.
IGNATIUS
We need to slow down.
HELDER
That’s it?
IGNATIUS
We let Ari notice what he notices.
We let him ask if he wants to ask.
We don’t volunteer trauma for the sake of moral cleanliness.
HELDER
I’m fucked.
IGNATIUS
Maybe.
But this is respectful risk, not chaotic risk.
Helder nods, shaky.
HELDER
And you?
IGNATIUS
Me?
HELDER
Are you okay?
Ignatius looks at him for a long moment. Honest.
IGNATIUS
I’m okay with you.
HELDER
And with Tezca?
IGNATIUS
I trust Tezca.
HELDER
And with Ari?
Ignatius’ jaw tightens, just a fraction.
IGNATIUS
I love Ari. And I love both of you too.
Which means I’m going to be very patient and very boring about this.
HELDER
He might feel betrayed.
IGNATIUS
I’ve had practice not making things worse.
He steps closer again. Not touching yet.
IGNATIUS
You didn’t do anything unforgivable.
HELDER
But I did something… consequential.
IGNATIUS
Yes.
HELDER
And now we wait.
IGNATIUS
Now we wait.
A pause.
HELDER
Can you still hold me?
Ignatius doesn’t answer verbally. He steps in and pulls Helder into him, firm and steady. Not rescuing. Just present.
IGNATIUS
Yeah.
HELDER
Even knowing this?
IGNATIUS
Especially knowing this.
Helder exhales, finally. The relief is partial. Incomplete. Real.
IGNATIUS
(low, honest)
Next time you feel that kind of strain—
HELDER
—I’ll talk to you first.
IGNATIUS
Good.
HELDER
I didn’t know it would echo like this.
IGNATIUS
None of us ever do.
They stand there, holding each other, both aware now that the calm they’ve built is thin, workable, and temporary.
Surface calm.
Then Ignatius trembles a little.
HELDER
Iggy?
IGNATIUS
I’m fine. Fine. You—
The sound of a door slamming.
It’s Ari.
Act III, Scene II: What Gets Said When Everyone Is Tired
ARISTON stands just inside the threshold. Jacket still on. Shoes off by habit, not comfort. He hasn’t come from the docks relaxed. He has come prepared.
IGNATIUS and HELDER are still where we left them. Close. Not entwined. Caught in the posture of people who were holding each other for reasons that no longer quite apply.
No one moves.
ARISTON
(quiet, even)
Okay.
IGNATIUS
Hey.
HELDER
Ari—
ARISTON
No.
(not angry)
Let me finish the sentence first.
He steps fully into the room. Puts his jacket down. Aligns it with the chair like the room deserves manners even if the people don’t.
ARISTON
I can see what posture this is.
I can also see what posture it isn’t.
A pause.
ARISTON
So before anyone apologises, explains, contextualises, or emotionally overblueprints me—
IGNATIUS
(lightly)
I don’t have them.
ARISTON
—I want to say this once.
He looks at Helder.
HELDER
(whimpering) I kissed him too.
The words land badly.
Not loudly. Not explosively.
Badly in the way a bone breaks without sound.
Silence.
Ignatius closes his eyes. Just once. Like he’s bracing against a wave he knew was coming and still underestimated.
Ariston doesn’t move.
He doesn’t look shocked.
He doesn’t look angry.
He looks… accurate.
But something is seething.
ARISTON
(quiet, precise)
Okay.
HELDER
I wasn’t trying to—
ARISTON
—no.
That single syllable stops everything. Helder freezes mid-breath.
ARISTON
I said let me finish the sentence first.
You’ve now… rearranged the sentence.
Ignatius swallows.
IGNATIUS
Ari—
ARISTON
(trying to still not be angry)
No.
I’m still speaking.
He turns slowly. Looks at both of them now. Not scanning. Not triangulating. Just seeing.
ARISTON
So.
A pause.
ARISTON
Tezca kissed him.
Then you kissed him.
Helder nods. Miserable. Honest.
HELDER
Yes.
ARISTON
Not together.
HELDER
No.
ARISTON
Not as a joke.
HELDER
No.
ARISTON
Not as some theoretical exercise in boundary stress-testing.
HELDER
No!
Another pause. The house hums, uncertain.
ARISTON
So what we have here—
He gestures once. Small. Clinical.
ARISTON
—is not an accident.
HELDER
It wasn’t planned—
ARISTON
I didn’t say planned.
I said not an accident.
Ignatius opens his mouth. Closes it without saying anything.
ARISTON
Here’s the part that hurts.
He presses his thumb into his own palm, grounding.
ARISTON
I didn’t feel jealous.
I didn’t feel threatened.
I didn’t feel replaced.
Helder looks up, fragile with hope.
ARISTON
I felt… stupid.
HELDER
Ari—
ARISTON
I felt stupid for thinking the rule meant something when things got inconvenient.
I felt stupid for trusting that “off-limits” didn’t mean “off-limits unless everyone’s tired.”
I felt stupid for staying home and believing that was neutral.
IGNATIUS
It wasn’t—
ARISTON
—Babe, please.
Ignatius stops. Jaw tight.
ARISTON
Do you know what my body did when I heard this?
Helder shakes his head, barely breathing.
ARISTON
It didn’t panic.
It didn’t flash back.
It didn’t spiral.
He laughs once. Short. Flat.
ARISTON
It shut a door.
Helder flinches visibly.
HELDER
What door?
ARISTON
The one where I assume I’m part of the calibration process.
A pause.
ARISTON
I realised… I’m the constant.
The thing you all stabilise around.
IGNATIUS
That’s not—
ARISTON
—intentional. I know.
Which is what makes it worse.
He turns back to Helder now. Full eye contact. No anger. Worse.
ARISTON
You didn’t kiss him because you wanted him.
HELDER
No.
ARISTON
You kissed him because he doesn’t need you to be okay.
Helder’s breath breaks.
HELDER
I—
ARISTON
—and I do.
Silence detonates.
Ignatius steps forward instinctively.
IGNATIUS
Ari, that’s not fair—
ARISTON
No.
He holds up a hand. Gentle. Absolute.
ARISTON
This is the one place I won’t negotiate tone.
Ignatius stops.
ARISTON
I don’t need rescuing.
I don’t need managing.
I don’t need to be protected from your impulses.
HELDER
I never—
ARISTON
—but I do need to know when I am the safest place to land
and when I am the place everyone quietly avoids touching because it feels heavy.
Helder collapses into a chair. Hands in his hair.
HELDER
I didn’t know it would do this.
ARISTON
That’s the problem.
Another pause. Longer. The air is thin now.
ARISTON
Tezca crossed a line that existed to protect me.
You crossed the same line to protect yourself.
HELDER
I wasn’t—
ARISTON
—malicious. I know.
But the effect is cumulative.
Ignatius finally tries to speak again, voice low.
IGNATIUS
Okay Ari. (slowly, and tiredly-menacingly) So what are you saying?
ARISTON
I’m saying I need distance.
IGNATIUS
From who?
ARISTON
From the shape this has taken.
HELDER
Ari, please—
ARISTON
—not as punishment.
As containment.
Helder looks like he might physically shatter.
HELDER
For how long?
ARISTON
Long enough that my body stops scanning the room for exits.
Ignatius nods slowly, like someone accepting a diagnosis.
IGNATIUS
Okay.
HELDER
Does that mean—
ARISTON
—I don’t know yet.
HELDER
Do you still—
ARISTON
—love you?
Helder nods desperately.
ARISTON
Yes. Which is why this matters.
Another silence. No one rushes it now. Everyone is too tired.
ARISTON
I’m going to sleep in the spare room tonight.
IGNATIUS
I’ll—
ARISTON
—not negotiate it.
Ignatius nods. Swallows.
ARISTON
Tomorrow, I go to work.
You both do too.
We don’t “process” this in passing.
HELDER
And Tezca?
ARISTON
Tezca doesn’t come near me until I ask.
HELDER
He’s not—
ARISTON
—I know.
That’s not the point.
He picks up his jacket again. Then pauses.
ARISTON
I want you both to hear this clearly.
They do.
ARISTON
No one is evil.
No one is unforgivable.
But something did collapse.
So I’m not leaving.
I’m just… no longer absorbing that collapse.
He exits.
The door closes softly.
Not slammed.
Not dramatic.
Finality without theatre.
Helder stares at the floor.
HELDER
I fucked this up.
Ignatius doesn’t answer immediately.
IGNATIUS
No.
Helder looks up, hollow.
IGNATIUS
You revealed it.
HELDER
That feels worse.
IGNATIUS
Yeah.
Another pause.
Ignatius turns, takes three steps toward the counter, then stops. His hand grips the edge hard enough that his knuckles blanch. He exhales, sharp. Tries again.
Doesn’t make it.
His knees buckle, sudden and unceremonious, like his body has simply clocked out of the argument.
He goes down.
Not dramatically.
Not gracefully.
Just… down.
Helder is on him instantly.
HELDER
Iggy— hey— hey—
Ignatius is sitting on the floor now, back against the cabinet, one hand pressed flat to his chest like he’s checking whether something essential is still there.
His breathing is wrong. Too fast. Then too slow.
IGNATIUS
(low, stunned)
Oh.
HELDER
What?
IGNATIUS
That’s new.
HELDER
What is?
Ignatius laughs once. It breaks halfway through.
IGNATIUS
I’m…
(chokes, then steadies)
I’m not holding it together.
Helder freezes. That sentence lands harder than any accusation.
HELDER
You don’t have to—
IGNATIUS
—I know.
He drags a hand down his face. His eyes are wet now, furious about it. He is shaking uncontrollably.
IGNATIUS
I thought if I stayed calm enough, boring enough, reasonable enough…
(snorts)
I could keep this from costing me anything.
HELDER
Iggy…
IGNATIUS
I really believed that.
Helder sits on the floor in front of him, close but not touching yet.
HELDER
What are you feeling?
Ignatius stares at him like that’s an unfair question.
IGNATIUS
Everything I postponed. Everything I keep fucking postponing.
A breath shudders out of him.
IGNATIUS
I’m angry.
I’m scared.
I’m protective in a way that doesn’t know where to go.
And I’m—
(voice cracks)
—I’m so fucking tired of being the stable one.
Helder’s eyes burn.
HELDER
I didn’t mean to—
IGNATIUS
—I know.
He reaches out then, finally, grabbing Helder’s wrist with desperate precision.
IGNATIUS
But intent doesn’t stop the drop.
Helder nods, wrecked.
HELDER
I’m here.
IGNATIUS
Good.
He leans forward suddenly, forehead dropping against Helder’s shoulder. Not sexy. Not composed. Just weight.
Ignatius collapses fully now. His shoulders won’t stop shaking.
HELDER
I’ve got you.
IGNATIUS
(muffled, furious)
I know.
That’s the problem.
I don’t want to always be the one people fall on.
HELDER
Then fall with me.
Ignatius goes still.
Then he lets himself.
They sit on the kitchen floor like that, unheroic, unsorted, breathing each other back into the room.
Act IV, Scene I: What the Roots Still Hear
An Edentree plaza at the edge of Corepoint. Not ceremonial. Not curated. A working tree, old enough that the city had to learn to bend around it instead of pretending it was decorative.
The air hums faintly. Not music. Infrastructure breathing. The Edentree’s surface glows where hands have rested too often to count. Tezca, at his wits’ end, stands a little too close to it. Palms flat against the bark. Forehead almost touching. He looks like a man trying and failing to negotiate with gravity.
TEZCA
(low, to the tree)
I did the right things.
I didn’t grab.
I didn’t fix.
I didn’t perform remorse like a street act.
He laughs once. No joy in it. Only a loss of control.
TEZCA
So why does it still feel like I’m leaking?
The tree does not answer.
Of course it doesn’t.
He pulls his hands back. Stares at them like they might explain themselves.
TEZCA
I’m tired of being told that waiting is growth.
He slams his head into the Edentree.
TEZCA
Still feels like shit.
He does it again.
TEZCA
It won’t stop. The future won’t stop.
A voice, nearby. Unbothered.
YOUNG WOMAN
Yeah, it usually doesn’t.
Tezca startles, turns.
The YOUNG WOMAN sits on the low wall edging the plaza, legs swinging, shoes scuffed, posture relaxed. Twenty-one. Bright-eyed. Very alive. Eating something wrapped in paper.
YOUNG WOMAN
Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak.
I just— you were talking to the tree like it owed you rent.
And also treating it like it owed you a new head.
TEZCA
I’m negotiating.
YOUNG WOMAN
With a machine-plant.
TEZCA
It started it.
She grins, hops down, strolls over. Looks at the Edentree appreciatively.
YOUNG WOMAN
I like this one.
Doesn’t pretend to listen.
TEZCA
That’s your criteria?
YOUNG WOMAN
I’m very selective.
She taps the bark with two fingers, casual.
YOUNG WOMAN
You look like someone who’s doing the right thing and not enjoying it at all.
TEZCA
Is it that obvious?
YOUNG WOMAN
You’re sighing at public infrastructure.
TEZCA
Fair.
A pause. She unwraps her snack, takes a bite.
YOUNG WOMAN
So.
What flavour of “right thing” is it today?
TEZCA
The kind where you don’t reach for relief because it would make things worse.
YOUNG WOMAN
Ugh.
Yeah, that one sucks.
TEZCA
You sound experienced.
YOUNG WOMAN
I’m twenty-one.
Of course I am.
She chews, considers him again.
YOUNG WOMAN
You waiting for forgiveness?
TEZCA
No.
Just… the part where it stops buzzing.
YOUNG WOMAN
Mm.
Hate to tell you— that part’s optional.
Especially when you keep giving your head an excuse to buzz.
TEZCA
I’m Tezca.
YOUNG WOMAN
Nice name.
She doesn’t offer hers. Takes another bite instead, like that settles it.
TEZCA
…You’re not going to—
YOUNG WOMAN
—nope. I mean, why the fuck would I? You’re just some guy bashing your head into a pulp against an Edentree, and I don’t want you to do that. You don’t need my name for that.
TEZCA
Right. Okay.
YOUNG WOMAN
You’ll live.
She wipes her fingers on the paper, folds it neatly, pockets it.
YOUNG WOMAN
So.
Buzzing.
TEZCA
Yeah.
YOUNG WOMAN
Scale of one to ten?
TEZCA
Eight thousand.
YOUNG WOMAN
Interesting. (She looks like she is calculating something in her head.)
TEZCA
Why?
YOUNG WOMAN
Oh. Just…a theory I’ve been working on.
She yawns.
YOUNG WOMAN
A lot of people who come here have that.
TEZCA
Have what?
YOUNG WOMAN
The buzzing.
TEZCA
I am being extremely mature about it.
YOUNG WOMAN
You’re talking to a tree.
TEZCA
I said extremely, not perfectly.
She laughs, easy, unburdened by meaning.
YOUNG WOMAN
Okay, practical question.
TEZCA
Oh no.
YOUNG WOMAN
Have you eaten?
TEZCA
Does coffee count?
YOUNG WOMAN
Absolutely not.
TEZCA
Then no.
YOUNG WOMAN
There we go.
Half the buzzing is just you being under-fuelled and over-moral.
TEZCA
I did a bad thing.
YOUNG WOMAN
What did you do?
TEZCA
(A pause.) Reopened a very old wound. Without thinking.
YOUNG WOMAN
Yours or someone else’s?
Silence. She nods.
YOUNG WOMAN
Wounds can be closed up.
TEZCA
(miserably) Recon.
YOUNG WOMAN
Ah.
A pause. Tezca looks back at the Edentree, then at her, waiting for her to judge him.
TEZCA
You’re very calm about… strangers who have done shitty things.
YOUNG WOMAN
How do you know I haven’t?
TEZCA
True.
YOUNG WOMAN
I’m just good at not borrowing other people’s storms.
She shrugs, like that’s a hobby she picked up last year.
YOUNG WOMAN
You’re clearly in one.
I’m just… standing nearby, trying to figure out why people with storms keep coming to this particular tree.
TEZCA
That’s… decent of you.
YOUNG WOMAN
It’s scientific.
Empathy’s expensive.
TEZCA
Tell me about it.
She looks at him like someone studying something under a microscope.
YOUNG WOMAN
I think you…might need a little more for yourself, to be frank.
TEZCA
What?
YOUNG WOMAN
Empathy.
She shrugs.
YOUNG WOMAN
You did shitty things before. Okay, sure.
She spreads her hands.
YOUNG WOMAN
You’re still here.
TEZCA
(almost automatically) I did them to one of the people I loved very much, and whose wounds I accidentally reopened.
YOUNG WOMAN
(nods, and not unkindly) Doesn’t change what I said.
TEZCA
What am I supposed to do with that?
YOUNG WOMAN
(A pause). So you like, got kicked out?
TEZCA
No.
YOUNG WOMAN
The person still talking to you?
TEZCA
Yeah.
YOUNG WOMAN
Then?
Tezca blinks.
YOUNG WOMAN
I don’t see what the problem is, frankly.
TEZCA
(blinking rapidly; the buzzing is clearing a little) What?
YOUNG WOMAN
They didn’t reject you.
TEZCA
(slowly) No.
YOUNG WOMAN
They still love you, right?
TEZCA
(mumbling) I think so.
YOUNG WOMAN
(chirpily) Then that’s irei, isn’t it?
TEZCA
…That’s not how that works.
YOUNG WOMAN
It literally is.
TEZCA
No, irei isn’t just “no one slammed the door.” It’s—
YOUNG WOMAN
—mutual survival without pretending it’s painless. Yeah, I know. I’ve read the textbooks. I live here.
She hops back onto the low wall, kicks her heels against the stone. Unbothered.
YOUNG WOMAN
Look.
They didn’t exile you.
They didn’t demand a spectacle.
They didn’t make you swear loyalty in blood or silence.
TEZCA
…how could they love me?
YOUNG WOMAN
How could they not?
She kicks her heels against the stone again.
YOUNG WOMAN
You still think the whole thing is just…them taking pitying on you.
Tezca says nothing, but Older Tezca has appeared silently on stage, and is gliding toward them. The Young Woman watches Tezca’s face change. She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t need to. She knows something is happening for Tezca, even though she can’t see Older Tezca.
YOUNG WOMAN
You keep assuming love is something people ration.
Like it runs out if you mess up the math.
She hops down again, dusts her hands.
YOUNG WOMAN
It’s not pity if someone stays after you disappoint them.
It’s not magnanimity if someone stays after you harm them.
In the end, that’s just… choice.
Behind Tezca, Older Tezca moves again.
He doesn’t walk so much as arrive in a series of wrong angles. One moment he’s a shadow folded into the Edentree’s roots. The next he’s standing where Tezca would instinctively step back, except Tezca doesn’t see him. Not yet.
Older Tezca reaches out.
He doesn’t touch Tezca.
He adjusts the angle of the light instead.
The plaza subtly shifts. Colours flatten further. Depth feels optional.
YOUNG WOMAN
You also keep calling it “waiting” like it’s passive.
She tilts her head, studying Tezca with friendly impatience.
YOUNG WOMAN
Waiting is an action.
It just doesn’t give you dopamine.
Tezca is crying, but in a good way. Older Tezca kneels. Presses his palm to the ground.
The Dreaming Ocean hums faintly beneath the stone, barely audible, like tinnitus that knows your name.
YOUNG WOMAN
Here’s the part you’re avoiding.
Tezca swallows.
YOUNG WOMAN
They didn’t stop loving you.
Older Tezca looks up now. His eyes are steady. Unimpressed. Not cruel. Just finished.
TEZCA
(whispering, crying) I…I stopped loving me.
Older Tezca reaches into his own chest and pulls out nothing.
Holds it there anyway.
YOUNG WOMAN
(tenderly) What happened?
TEZCA
I…I didn’t love what I had…
Blackout. When the lights come on, a simulacrum of Ariston is standing between Tezca and older Tezca, and holding their hands.
YOUNG WOMAN
(sadly) It’s the first lesson they teach us in school…
OLDER TEZCA
…jealousy kills.
TEZCA
(sobbing) He was so safe. So gentle. So caring. At the time…at the time…I wasn’t…
The simulacrum of Ariston distorts and twists, as if punched.
TEZCA
(sobbing) I…I couldn’t stand it. I thought…I thought it was impossible that anyone could be like that.
YOUNG WOMAN
You didn’t believe who he said he was.
The simulacrum of Ariston crumples to the ground, and blood begins to pool from it.
TEZCA
(sobbing) I…I thought I was doing…the universe a favour. I thought…surely…nobody could be better than me. More gentle. More safe. More…more…
OLDER TEZCA
Pure.
Blackout. When the lights come on, the simulacrum of Ariston is gone, though the blood remains.
YOUNG WOMAN
You thought you were pure, so pure that…you thought…whatever you did…
TEZCA
(sobbing) Whatever I did someone else would surely understand. That it was for the greater good. And it was because that was what my parents said to me, when they…when they…
The Young Woman doesn’t look away from Tezca. She doesn’t rush him. She doesn’t fill the space. She just nods once, like this part has finally arrived on schedule.
YOUNG WOMAN
Ah.
There it is.
Older Tezca straightens. He does not look pleased. He looks exact.
OLDER TEZCA
There it is.
TEZCA
(choking)
They said it was love.
They said it was for my own good.
They said if I hurt someone, it meant I was teaching them something important.
The blood on the ground does not spread anymore. It has stopped behaving like a liquid. It looks more like a shadow now. A memory refusing to leave.
YOUNG WOMAN
Yeah.
That’s a classic.
Never gets old, no matter how we try to teach otherwise.
TEZCA
(hysterical, small)
I thought safety was a lie.
I thought gentleness was manipulation with better marketing.
I thought if someone didn’t bruise you, they were hiding the knife.
OLDER TEZCA
So you became the knife first.
TEZCA
(sobbing) I became the knife first.
I didn’t want to be fooled.
The Young Woman crouches. Not next to him. In front of him. Close enough to matter.
YOUNG WOMAN
No.
You wanted things to be real.
TEZCA
I was scared.
YOUNG WOMAN
Of being ordinary.
TEZCA
(shaking)
Of being worse.
OLDER TEZCA
Of being loved without leverage.
Silence. The Dreaming Ocean breathes. Slow. Patient. Completely uninterested in excuses.
TEZCA
I ruined him.
YOUNG WOMAN
No.
Tezca looks up, furious and desperate.
TEZCA
Don’t do that. Don’t soften it.
YOUNG WOMAN
I’m not softening it.
I’m correcting it.
She taps the ground once with her knuckle. The shadow-blood flickers, then dulls.
YOUNG WOMAN
You hurt him.
You did not end him.
You already went through Recon with him.
He still loves you.
You did not end him.
TEZCA
It felt like an ending—
OLDER TEZCA
—because your nervous system learned to equate guilt with annihilation.
The Young Woman straightens, dusts her hands again, casual as ever.
YOUNG WOMAN
Your parents didn’t teach you accountability.
They taught you apocalypse.
TEZCA
(sobbing, angry)
They said love sometimes had to hurt.
YOUNG WOMAN
Yeah.
The wrong kind of hurt.
The hurt that asks you to destroy yourself in the process.
OLDER TEZCA
And you internalised it beautifully.
TEZCA
I…I don’t know how to love without turning it into a contest.
YOUNG WOMAN and OLDER TEZCA together
Then don’t start with love.
TEZCA
What?
YOUNG WOMAN
Start with respect.
Respect doesn’t need to win.
OLDER TEZCA
It also doesn’t need to be exciting.
Tezca lets out a broken laugh.
TEZCA
That sounds unbearable.
YOUNG WOMAN
Only at first.
She gestures vaguely toward the Edentree.
YOUNG WOMAN
You know what’s unbearable long-term?
Living like every relationship is a courtroom and you’re both the prosecutor and the god.
And (sadly) that almost every person you pass in the street is struggling to not to do the same, so much so that all you can do is wonder why.
OLDER TEZCA
I retired from that job. Eventually.
Tezca looks at him. Really looks.
TEZCA
Do I… become you?
OLDER TEZCA
No.
TEZCA
Then what?
OLDER TEZCA
You become someone who can stay when the wanting doesn’t get fed.
TEZCA
(sniffling)
You’re not very comforting.
YOUNG WOMAN (a bit confused, since she cannot see Older Tezca)
I’m not here to be comforting. Just to stop you from doing weird shit to yourself.
That memory doesn’t get to run your relationships forever.
It already got too much airtime.
And like I said.
YOUNG WOMAN and OLDER TEZCA together
He already took you back.
He already said he loves you.
Older Tezca steps closer now. This time, Tezca can see him fully.
OLDER TEZCA
You don’t have to atone forever.
You just have to stop reenacting.
TEZCA
(quiet)
And if I don’t?
OLDER TEZCA
Then you keep mistaking intensity for intimacy until you die tired and convinced you were deep. And keep seeing me, and random young women who have nothing better to do than prevent people from slamming their heads into Edentrees.
TEZCA
I don’t want to keep hurting myself.
The Young Woman smiles in relief. Small. Real.
YOUNG WOMAN
Good to hear.
She steps back. The plaza begins to regain depth. Colour creeps back in, unevenly.
YOUNG WOMAN
You don’t need forgiveness from a ghost.
It sounds like the person you love is still alive.
You need consistency with the living.
TEZCA
(whispering)
Ari.
OLDER TEZCA
Yes.
TEZCA
And Helder.
And Iggy.
YOUNG WOMAN
And you, Tezca.
TEZCA
I don’t know how to do that.
YOUNG WOMAN
Nobody does at first.
You just… stop auditioning for absolution.
She swings herself back onto the low wall.
YOUNG WOMAN
Go home.
Eat something real.
Sleep.
Tomorrow, do the next right thing without expecting applause.
TEZCA
And the buzzing?
She shrugs.
YOUNG WOMAN
It fades when you stop trying to justify it, I think.
That’s what I’ve been trying to do with you.
Though I could be wrong.
I’m sorry if I got it wrong.
Older Tezca nods once.
OLDER TEZCA
You’ll hate the quiet.
Then you’ll realise it’s not empty.
TEZCA (to both of them)
You were right.
The Dreaming Ocean recedes, not dramatically. Like a tide obeying physics. The plaza is just a plaza again. The Edentree hums. Ordinary. Solid.
YOUNG WOMAN
(grinning) I usually am.
The Young Woman is already halfway gone.
TEZCA
Wait—
Your name—
She looks over her shoulder, still grinning.
YOUNG WOMAN
You don’t need it.
She exits.
Tezca stands alone. Wiped out. Upright.
He presses a hand to his chest. Breathes.
TEZCA (to older Tezca)
Who was she?
OLDER TEZCA
(cryptically) It’s usually not a bad idea to listen to the Kabesa.
Especially future ones.
Older Tezca disappears, and the lights fade.
Act IV, Scene II: The Thing That Doesn’t Have a Name
Midnight. A civic liminal space in Corepoint. Not an alley. Not a plaza. A maintenance mezzanine that exists because the city grew faster than its plans. Soft light from nowhere. A low hum like breath caught between thoughts. The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa again sits on the edge of a structural beam, jacket folded beside him, boots on, posture loose but exact. He is not waiting. He is available. Ignatius enters from the far side. He stops when he sees the Kabesa. Considers turning around. Doesn’t.
IGNATIUS
Right.
Okay.
Still weird.
26TH KABESA
You don’t have to stay.
IGNATIUS
I know.
That’s not the problem.
He steps closer. Keeps distance. The air tightens anyway.
IGNATIUS
I swore I’d never do this.
Meet a Kabesa like this.
Feels… religious. Or municipal. Or like a category error.
26TH KABESA
You don’t believe in categories.
IGNATIUS
I believe in furniture.
A beat.
IGNATIUS
You’re not furniture.
26TH KABESA
Thank you.
IGNATIUS
That wasn’t a compliment.
Silence. The city hums.
IGNATIUS
I can tell you’re doing something. On me.
26TH KABESA
Am I?
IGNATIUS
Yeah.
It’s like—
(searches, irritated)
—like when a building’s load shifts and you feel it in your teeth before anything cracks.
The Kabesa studies him. Carefully.
26TH KABESA
You don’t have a name for that.
IGNATIUS
No.
And I don’t want one.
He rubs his face, suddenly exhausted.
IGNATIUS
I’m here because my quad’s not… broken.
But it’s not holding either.
And I’m running out of tricks that don’t make things worse.
26TH KABESA
So you came to someone who can’t fix it for you.
IGNATIUS
Yeah.
Because everyone else keeps trying, even though they keep coming to you too.
Tezca’s vibrating himself into dust.
Helder’s bracing so hard he’s going to crack something important.
Ari’s gone quiet in the way that means he’s protecting the room by shrinking himself.
He swallows.
IGNATIUS
And I’m…
(stops, then laughs once, humourless)
—I’m being very calm about it. Which is how I know I’m in trouble.
The Kabesa nods. Not agreement. Recognition.
26TH KABESA
What do you want from me?
IGNATIUS
I want to know if this is survivable
without someone being sacrificed to make it feel clean.
A long pause.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
IGNATIUS
That was fast.
26TH KABESA
It doesn’t mean painless.
IGNATIUS
I didn’t ask for painless.
He steps closer now. Still not close.
IGNATIUS
I can feel when you’re… listening sideways.
Like the room tilts.
26TH KABESA
I’m not doing anything to you.
IGNATIUS
I know.
That’s why it’s unsettling.
Another silence.
IGNATIUS
If you could—
(hates himself for asking)
—if you were allowed to intervene…
would you?
The Kabesa considers this longer.
26TH KABESA
No.
IGNATIUS
Why not?
26TH KABESA
Because the quad doesn’t need coherence imposed from above.
It needs consent rebuilt from inside.
IGNATIUS closes his eyes. Exhales.
IGNATIUS
Fuck.
26TH KABESA
Yes.
IGNATIUS
So what do I do?
The 26th Kabesa finally shifts, standing. He doesn’t loom. He equalises.
26TH KABESA
You stop being the hinge.
IGNATIUS
If I stop, it falls apart.
26TH KABESA
That’s what Helder said, and Ari believes, and Tezca wants to believe.
Everyone is giving.
No one is taking.
Ignatius winces.
IGNATIUS
You’re very good at this.
26TH KABESA
I’m very lonely at this.
A beat. Honest. Unadorned.
IGNATIUS
Yeah.
I got that, after you managed to sweep two of my husbands off their feet.
He looks at the floor, then back up.
IGNATIUS
Whatever that thing is you do—
I don’t want it used on me.
26TH KABESA
I hear you.
IGNATIUS
And for the record—
I don’t need you to save us.
26TH KABESA
Good.
IGNATIUS
I just needed to know we weren’t already doomed
because we fucked up in an unglamorous way.
The Kabesa meets his eyes.
26TH KABESA
You’re not doomed.
You’re early.
Ignatius snorts.
IGNATIUS
Story of my life.
He steps back. Decision settling.
IGNATIUS
Okay.
I’ll let it be messy.
I’ll let Ari set the pace.
I’ll let Helder stop performing stability.
I’ll let Tezca be uncomfortable without rescuing him from it.
26TH KABESA
That’s the work.
IGNATIUS
I hate it.
26TH KABESA
Everyone does.
A pause. Then Ignatius nods, once.
IGNATIUS
Thanks.
For not making this mystical.
26TH KABESA
Thanks for not asking me to.
Ignatius turns to go. Stops.
IGNATIUS
Hey.
26TH KABESA
Yes?
IGNATIUS
That thing you do—
the load-shift feeling—
The 26th Kabesa begins to open their mouth to explain…something.
IGNATIUS
Nope. Nang falah nada.
Don’t tell me.
The Kabesa smiles. Small. Respects it.
IGNATIUS
I’ll feel it or I won’t.
Either way, it’s my job to listen.
He exits.
Act V, Scene I: The Cracks That Keep Us Standing
Exactly the same scene continued from the previous one. The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa steps forward. No jacket now. Sleeves still rolled. No one else on stage.
26TH KABESA
And that was it.
And they lived happily ever after, fucking each other, and me, until their brains exploded.
He lets the question hang.
Or so you wanted to believe.
A pause. He looks out at the audience, not accusing. Just… present.
Corepoint has a reputation.
You’ve probably heard it already, even from your century.
Low crime.
No riots.
No mobs tearing each other apart over scraps.
People queue. People talk. People… stop.
He smiles faintly.
Funny thing is, nobody really minds.
Nobody asks too loudly why a city this dense, this layered, this late in the story of the planet still works, when everywhere else is cooking, drowning, burning, or pretending very hard that it isn’t.
They just say things like,
“Corepoint’s civil.”
“Corepoint’s humane.”
“Corepoint’s lucky.”
A pause.
Luck has very little to do with it.
He taps his chest once. Then gestures outward, vaguely, at the unseen city.
Siruwi.
Not the dramatic version.
Not mind-reading.
Not voices.
Not secrets spilling out of skulls.
Just this:
You feel it when someone is about to tip.
You feel it when a joke would land badly.
You feel it when anger is really fear wearing boots.
You feel it when silence is about to turn into damage.
So you stop.
Or you soften.
Or you wait.
Most of the time, you don’t even notice you’ve done it.
And because everyone is doing it just a little bit, all the time, nobody needs to do it all the way.
That’s why there’s so little violence here.
That’s why the city feels… breathable.
He exhales, long.
But systems that reduce friction also reduce release.
Siruwi keeps people from each other’s throats.
It also keeps pressure circulating.
Grief doesn’t explode.
It accumulates.
Desire doesn’t vanish.
It reroutes.
And sometimes, it finds a crack.
He looks down. Then back up.
Like four people who love each other very much, and suddenly realise they’ve been optimising for survival instead of truth.
Like a kiss that isn’t about lust, but about relief.
Like restraint that starts to look indistinguishable from distance.
Like care that quietly turns into avoidance.
Siruwi didn’t cause that.
Siruwi just made it impossible not to feel it.
A pause. The city hum hums a little louder, or maybe the audience is just listening better.
This is the part nobody puts in the psychohistories and the individuation manuals.
A city held together by shared feeling doesn’t shatter easily.
But when it cracks, it cracks along lines of intimacy.
Old wounds don’t stay buried.
They stay… legible.
You don’t get to say,
“I didn’t know.”
You only get to say,
“I felt it, and I chose anyway.”
He meets the audience’s eyes.
That’s the trade.
Corepoint is livable because people are less at each other’s throats.
It’s harder because you don’t get to hide from the cost of your choices.
No one here is a villain.
No one here is pure.
But everyone is responsible.
He smiles, not unkindly.
So no.
They didn’t live happily ever after.
They lived attentively.
They lived with fewer lies.
They lived with cracks they could see, and therefore repair.
He tilts his head, considering.
Which, given the state of the rest of the world in 2315…
A small shrug.
Feels like a miracle to me.
The light does not go out.
It thins.
The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa stays where he is for a moment longer, as if listening for something that isn’t coming.
Then he does an unremarkable thing.
He steps back.
The city reasserts itself. Sound returns in layers: distant transit, voices that are not important to us, the low hum of systems doing what they were designed to do and a few things they were not.
The Kabesa exits without ceremony.
Act V, Scene II: Quaternary Logic
The stage shifts.
Not a scene. Not quite a place.
A shared domestic space implied by objects rather than walls.
A cup on a table.
Four chairs, not evenly spaced.
A jacket draped where someone will need it later.
A window that looks like it opens, even if it doesn’t.
Morning light, uncertain.
IGNATIUS sits at the table, already dressed for work, staring at nothing.
HELDER stands by the window, hands in his pockets, deliberately not bracing.
ARISTON is on the couch, shoes off, posture guarded but present.
TEZCA stands near the door, not leaving, not entering.
No one speaks for a while.
Finally:
ARISTON
(quiet, clear)
I’m still here.
Tezca nods, a haunted look on his face. He does not rush to respond.
Helder exhales. Lets his shoulders drop another millimetre.
IGNATIUS
Okay.
TEZCA
I don’t know what this looks like yet.
ARISTON
Neither do I.
HELDER
We don’t have to decide today.
IGNATIUS
We probably shouldn’t.
A pause.
TEZCA
I’m… uncomfortable.
HELDER
Good.
Tezca looks at him, startled. Helder shrugs.
HELDER
Not good-good.
But honest-good.
(He rubs his chest softly.) Just like me.
Ignatius smiles faintly, tired.
IGNATIUS
We can work with honest.
Another pause.
Ariston shifts, then pats the space beside him on the couch. Not an invitation. A possibility.
The three of them look at Tezca.
Tezca does not move immediately.
Then he sits. Carefully. With space left between them.
No one rushes to close it.
The window brightens a fraction.
Ariston takes Tezca’s hand, and Tezca closes his eyes.
They freeze.
The Twenty-Sixth Kabesa reappears at the edge of the stage, not quite in the scene, not quite outside it.
He does not address the audience this time.
He simply watches.
After a moment, he speaks. Not loudly.
26TH KABESA
(to no one in particular)
Four is not supposed to be a difficult number.
It’s symmetrical.
It can resolve cleanly into pairs without leftovers.
It can stabilise, often by accident.
He smiles, small.
And it can also not.
It can also divide itself into extremely strange ways.
It can also be intensely asymmetrical.
It requires attention.
And it requires four lives that keeps coming back to themselves, over and over and over and over again.
The light shifts again. Warmer now.
The quad does not embrace.
They do not resolve anything.
But Ariston is still holding Tezca’s hand.
And so they remain seated. Awake. Aware.
Surface calm.
The cracks are still there.
But so is the structure.
The Kabesa steps back into the city.
This time, the lights fade all the way.