'Ugh, Not Again' Chapter 1

"Oh god. My head… My stomach… My back." At 30 years old this mantra was pretty much Dola's usual anthem when she woke up, but on this particular day? This particular Saturday morning? The discomfort was much worse than usual.

When Dola woke up it was to a thumping headache, blinding lights pouring through the broken blinds and a sore spot on her back from where she'd fallen asleep on her keys. Her head rang with the telltale thud of a hangover, her stomach felt like it was tumbling with every movement. Pressing her palms to her screaming forehead, she found no comfort in her own clammy touch. Leaning forward to sit upright, she promised herself for the millionth time that she was no longer drinking anything stronger than cola. It was a lie of course, but in the moment it always felt like an absolute, unwavering fact.

Groaning and dazed, Dola groped around her for her phone with her eyes still shut against the horrible, evil sunlight that was out to get her. What time was it? What day was it? Was she supposed to be somewhere?

Having been so occupied with her aching everything, general disorientation and lack of phone in her hand, the fact that someone was standing over did not register. With her eyes shut and stomach rolling, the last thing she expected to find in her apartment was a stranger offering her breakfast and standing over her with a toothy grin. Why would she expect that? Of course she wouldn't have noticed that.

Until that person spoke.

”Good Morni-!“

"Holy shit!" Eggs, potatoes and spray of ketchup flew across the room and splattered on the wall as Dola's foot made swift contact with aforementioned plate. Rolling from where she'd been lying and hating every stomach churning moment of it, Dola stumbled roughly to her feet adrenaline pumping and grabbed the plastic butter knife from her takeout from two nights before. Her grip on the frail plastic knife was white-knuckled at the very least as she readied herself to- well she wasn't too sure what she could do with that, but she had something at least.

With breath labored from pure panic and a wet burp of nausea Dola took in the stranger before her, her fuzzy mind rejecting what she saw. Standing at least a head taller than her was a man with ridiculously long candy floss pink hair that was pulled back into a neat braid, wide eyes such a honey brown they were almost gold, full pink lips, and angular angelic face that looked horrified. His hand shot to cover his mouth in alarm as he looked between her with the bent plastic knife in her hand and the spot where ketchup was staining her already thoroughly stained, beige rug.

What the hell was he shocked for? He was in her place! Why was he in her place? He was gorgeous in the way a marble statue in a museum was, but that was not a pass for him being in her apartment using up her already dwindling groceries!

"Oh!" He gasped, "I apologize!" The man's hands shot up, his face flushed with innocent shock, "I must have startled you! I didn’t want to wake you, but I certainty didn’t mean to scare you, Mistress.” He rocked forward half reaching for her before she shoved her 7-11 brand weapon at him and he seemed to think better of it.

Mistress???

”Who?!” Dola croaked, her mouth suddenly dry, because who in all of any possible hells was 'Mistress'?! Couldn't be her. No freakin way.

What had she gotten herself into last night???

The stranger blinked, long, pale eyelashes fluttering in shock as his mouth turned down and brows pulled together and his expression turned to what looked like disappointment.

What the hell was he disappointed about!?

”Mistress, could it be-“ his face paled as his hand went to his heart, he looked almost as distressed as she was feeling as his brows pulled together and eyes went as wide as saucers, “perhaps you forgot last night?”

”Last night?” She parroted back dumbly. If she thought her mouth was dry before it was positively arid now.

Without much thought, Dola found herself looking down, letting out a relieved sigh when she saw that she was still in her clothes from the night before shoes and all. Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, it also occurred to her that she was in her living room. She'd been asleep on her couch. There was no scenario that made sense to her as to why she'd been asleep out here instead of in her room or why she was waking up to a beautiful man making her breakfast while she fought to keep down her dinner from the night before.

It could have definitely been way worse, but still.

Digging deep and really pushing her murky memory to its limits. She thought back to the night before. It had been yet another lonely, tired miserable night after a grueling nightmare of a day at Superior Mart where she was lucky enough to be one of their 'elite employees' aka; a manager. Her day had been filled temper tantrums, a lack of common sense and being a victim of other people's of entitlement and that was just from the people who reported to her. By the end of a day of cleaning up cherry pits and abandoned drinks hidden behind shampoo on the shelf, and her boss throwing her under the bus to their regional manager when her department wasn't making their numbers, all Dola wanted was a stiff drink and a plate of wings drowned in ranch.

If her unreliable memory served her correctly, she'd gotten on the bus right after work and went straight to Louie's Bar to get her beer and wings. It was still early for a Friday night, the bar was pretty empty. Dola had been sweaty and still in her work uniform when she'd bellied up to the bar and dumped herself onto the bar-stool, next to the only other person there. That 'only other person there' was the same guy from the bar who stood before her now. There was a vague memory of him asking her if she came there often, if the wings were good. Obviously she'd taken that as flirting so she asked if he wanted to join her. She remembers them laughing, she remembers buying them a round and him offering to pay for her dinner as they sat way too close to be strangers.

Oh god.

"Did we-?" She pointed between the two of them, wiggling her eyebrows with an implication that he seemed to alarm him.

"Heavens no! I would never think of such a thing with you of all people, Mistress!" His hand flew to his mouth, his eyes went wide and he stepped back looking utterly appalled.

Dola narrowed her eyes. The emphasis felt a bit rude. But okay. She had the answer to that at least.

Lowering the butter-knife, she sighed sagging her shoulders and letting the wall behind her support the weight of her aching body, "Then why are you here?" She grimaced. He straightened himself out before giving her an annoyingly sympathetic smile.

"Ah." he hummed, nodding sagely to himself in a way that made her want to smack him, "I see."

"You see what?!" She bit out with growing irritation, while he went on nodding.

"I understand that once the contract is complete it may leave the contract signer disoriented or leave temporary gaps in their memory. That mental fog should clear shortly now that you're awake, if not can clear it." He offered taking a step forward, delicate hands extended, aimed for her temples.

"Uh, no!" She threw her hands up, smacking his reach away, and they both stepped back looking unsure of each other. It seemed they were at an impasse. He seemed worried, like he was in out of his depths, unsure and Dola? Dola was on the verge of hyperventilating.

The panic she felt was no longer because she didn't know why a strange man was in her apartment, but because she now suspected that she knew why he was here and if he was here for the reason she thought- Her hands were at her temples now, she groaned as her head pounded and her memory cleared.

---

Her mind took her back to the bar. This man who now stood in front of her looking worried had sat with her last night. He'd looked a little different that night, his hair had been blonde, not pink and his eyes less golden, but that angular face and unique accent that she couldn't quite place was the same. He'd laughed with her, listened to her crappy day, about how empty her life felt... he offered well timed empathetic words, and companionable silence when appropriate and by the time she'd been done talking she was sober and they'd been sitting so closely that she could taste the faint smell of vanilla and amber that wafted from him. In hindsight it was embarrassing beyond all measure, but in the moment all she felt was comfort, all she felt was the warm glow of something like hope. Hope for what she didn't know, but it had been short lived.

One moment they'd been tucked in close to each other like could be lovers and she'd said something that has made them both laugh.

The problem was that she'd been eating a mozzarella stick.

The bigger problem was that she'd choked on the mozzarella stick.

The biggest problem was that one moment she'd been sitting with this guy and the next he was standing over her and someone was asking if anyone knew the Heimlich.

No one knew the Heimlich.

And for not the first time in her life, Dola had to wonder if this was how things would end.Is this the story she would have to tell at the pearly white gates to get in? She died choking on a mozzarella stick after laughed at her on joke?

And then it happened. The pretty man she'd been talking to leaned down and asked her something as her vision blurred. He offered her his hand to shake if she agreed. It was an offer that she'd heard before. She might have laughed at the irony of it all if she hadn't been choking.

Dola shook his hand.

Then Dola woke up on her couch with her keys digging into her kidneys and the second worst hangover of her life.

---

"Ah! It seems you remember, Mistre-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"But-"

"Stop talking!" She barked, her hands flying to her head as she tried to pull it together. He stopped talking at her command, but he didn't look thrilled about it.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

But then again-

Maybe this was a dream? Maybe she'd wake up to the sound of her phone's alarm any minute and get ready for her crappy job and have a normal crappy day rather than whatever this was. Boy oh boy she couldn't wait to wake up and laugh at how weird of a dream this was.

Any tentative optimism dried up as she heard the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. Dola's mouth went bone dry as the knob turned and the door swung open to reveal the very person she'd hoped not to see.

For a moment he just stood in the door arms full of paper bags overflowing with groceries. His tired, dark eyes swung calmly from Dola to the man who was stood a few steps away from her, to the eggs on the floor and then back to her. No one moved for at least a minute, all of them doing silent computations in their mind trying to figure out how any of this added up to making a lick of sense.

It was a little awkward to say the least.

"Dola." The newest addition to the scene started slowly with a tight calmness that she knew was measured, "What did you do?" he asked calmly.

" It's not what it looks like!" She launched from where she'd been leaning on the wall, the movement making her stomach lurch. The pretty man next to her who's name she still did not know reached out to steady her and she found that she was too queasy to shoo him off this time.

"What are you doing here? How do you know Mistress?" He asked defensively, still holding Dola's arm as he kept her steady.

"'Mistress'? You're calling her Mistress? Dola you have him calling you Mistress? What the f-"

"Fylson! It's really not what it looks like! I was drunk! I don't know how this happened! It was an accident!" She fired off every excuse she could think of, each one sounding like her exes as she said the words. She was all too aware of how very guilty it sounded.

"An accident?" Fylson hissed tossing the bags to the ground and storming over to her, swatting the newcomer's hold on her arm away before standing between them, "Dola! You and I made a contract tied to your soul!" His hands tangled in his hair and his eyes bulged as his gaze bored into hers, "Weird that this happened twice, huh!?" She'd never seen Fylson like this. A few moments ago she'd been on the verge of hyperventilating and now it seemed that she wasn't alone on that boat.

"I'm sorry-" The new guy who'd made her breakfast interjected with a raised finger and a calm smile that didn't reach his panicked eyes. "you already have signed a contract?" The newcomer turned to her, honey eyes growing as wide as saucers," I don't understand. How could this be?" His hand shot to his mouth just as quickly as his wavering smile fell.

"I don't know Eirlan." Flyson said through gritted teeth and a false smile. "I have a contract. I went away for a week I come back and now you're here cooking my contract eggs. Why don't you tell me what's going on here, because from where I stand; you're a thief. You're trying to mess up my contract. Did the company send you?" If looks could kill Dola wasn't sure weather she or this Eirlan guy would be dead first the way Fylson glared at the two of them. Could have been a tie.

Eirlan gasped so loud from the allegation that Dola swore she felt the lack of oxygen in the room for a moment. "I assure you I simply have no idea how this happened! I'm incensed that you'd imply that I did this on purpose!" Eirlan certainly looked incensed, he was somehow both pale with shock and red with rage from the accusation.

At this point, Dola was just glad that no one was looking at her for answers.

"You!" Fylson boomed pointing an accusatory finger at Dola. So much for being out of it. "Why would you sign another contract if you had one already? Are you an idiot!?"

"Don't speak to her that way!" Eirlan interjected stepping to stand between the two of them, confused, but still chivalrous for some reason.

"Who else other than an idiot would sign a contract on their soul twice?!" Fylson shot back, turning on Eirlan.

They all went silent for that. He had a point. It was reckless. A touch shortsighted even.

"Well I was drunk! I was scared! And I was mad at you!" Dola protested, rallying herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You were mad at me!? I just asked you to do the dishes once and awhile and to help with the shopping and to assist me on assignments every now and then!"

"I didn't say I had a good reason to be upset!" Dola puffed up her chest, but any strength she'd felt in her argument left her as she stomach lurched again. She was going to be sick and the hangover had nothing to do with it. This whole situation was nauseating.

In the moment last night, obviously she'd wanted to save her life, but there was a moment where she genuinely hoped that by signing a new contract the one she had with Fylson would be null and void. She had been upset with him and for a lot of reasons. Fylson didn't realize how hard it was getting by in the city, he couldn't appreciate how tired she was at the end of the day and how scary all of this contract stuff was to someone with a past like Dola's. She'd signed enough bad contracts in her life. So when he started an argument that day a week ago over the splitting of house chores of all things, while she was getting ready for work, she just kind of unloaded on him and he just kind of walked out. He'd been gone for a week. She's been starting to think he was never coming back and she was okay with that. They'd been in limbo for six months since she'd met him and maybe that argument had been the inevitable tipping point.

By the end of that week of Fylson being away, she hadn't been entirely sure that she hadn't imagined Fylson. Perhaps all of her years of acting, of playing pretend and living in fantasy had driven her to making up imaginary friends, maybe she was just so down on her luck that she'd made the whole scenario up just to have a bit of company and she'd finally snapped back to her senses.

She wasn't sure if it was good or bad luck that this wasn't the case.

The previous night when she'd been sprawled out on the floor a mozzarella stick of all things putting her life in peril, when she shook Eirlan's hand and shook it, Fylson had been the furthest thing from her mind. What would happen next had been the furthest thing from her mind.

Looking from Fylson who looked like he was about to blow a blood vessel to Eirlan who looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown as he paced the room. She should have thought more about what would have happened next it seemed.

Dola tried to think of what to say. There were no words to fix this. She opened her mouth to try anyway.

"I-" She started, hoping the words would come to her if she just started, "I don't-" they both looked at her with baited breath as if they both were waiting for her to announce it was a prank, "I don't feel so good." And then whatever she'd actually gotten down of the mozzarella sticks the night before made an unwelcome reappearance on the living room shag rug.

 ***  The contract:  "You are at a crossroads. You are meeting an end not meant for you. For those like you there are those like me. Avoid this untimely misfortune and help others do the same. Use your worldly eyes to guide my unwordly powers and help others in this world. Agree and help shape a better world."