His gaze held mine for what felt like an eternity.

I was mid-sentence when I noticed him: his glistening, dark, string-like dreads that framed one side of his face and stopped at the nape of his neck, the thin moustache that rested above his equally thin lips, and his eyes…

Oh, his eyes…

All of the city lights; as dim as most of them may be, didn't shine as bright as his eyes. One look at those piercing, brown eyes, and I knew this man would completely alter the course of my life forever. I got my confirmation when the corner of his lips twitched slightly.

He was smirking!

And just like that, the moment was gone. He broke off eye contact with me, and returned back to his solitude. He was by his lonesome, on the other side of the bar, inquisitively searching for something at the bottom of a chilled lager beer.

My attention came back to my table, surrounded by celebrating friends, but my heart remained with the mysterious dread-head. He didn't know it yet, but he wasn't alone at his table anymore. I was there with him.

Next came the longing.

I've never been one to be ashamed or abashed when it comes to things I'd do for love; or a small kindling that has a semblance to the complicated emotion, so it wasn't a surprise when I started having sleepless nights.

He was in my dreams.

He was around the street corner.

He was on my timeline, during my nightly doom scroll sesh.

He'd built himself a nice, comfy semi-detached duplex in my head, and there was no rent fee being paid.

I knew what I had to do. It had never been more obvious. At the start of a new week, I took an ọ̀kadà, a marwa, and a bus, all the way down to the bar where we met, in the hopes that I'd catch a glimpse of him.

My friends thought I'd lost my marbles, but it was the exact opposite. This “silly infatuation” was what life was all about. Everything else in this gloomy country was mundane, uninteresting, and joy sucking. The man at the bar had ignited something in me, akin to an emotional resurrection.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered, except the pursuit of happiness. Would it end in tears? Maybe… Would I be served breakfast? Possibly… Would it be better if he just remained as an idea? Of course… But I didn't care about any of that. Since when did it become cool not to try?

The initial days were unsuccessful. He wasn't anywhere around the bar. I tried coming bright and early in the morning, afternoon, evening… It didn't matter. I was basically on a fool's errand, with nothing but my heart as my compass.

I described him to the bartender, who was kind enough to let me know he always came around once in a while at nights. So, I made adjustments to my routine. 

And no, this isn't a crazy look on me. This is me reveling in the thrill of a harmless crush.

But alas, I'm only human, and a week of chasing breadcrumbs was enough to put a dent in my child-like optimism.

With slumped shoulders, I trudged out of the barren bar, hoping I'd be able to catch a dánfó headed in my direction. While I unconsciously scanned the street, I noticed a sole figure to my right.

My breath hitched.

On the sidewalk, standing underneath a solar powered, motion triggered street light, leisurely taking a drag of cigarette was the man I'd spent two weeks obsessing over.

He looked like he came straight out of a Wattpad romance novel. His dreads were tied up, with a few strands falling lazily across his elegant face. He leaned against the steel pole of the light, completely illuminated by the brilliant white light. The smoke from his cigarette danced around him seductively, almost frozen in place even, as if the air had stilled.

I must have been staring for an hour, maybe two, maybe ten. He turned in my direction and I softly gasped. He was even more beautiful than I remembered. Everything about him screamed calmness, delicacy and elegance.

My legs gained sentience, and chose to move on their own. The distance between us closed in mere moments, and now, the strong cigarette smell that wafted off him had mixed with his peppermint fragrance, creating a unique aroma that tingled my senses.

There was so much gravitas to his presence, it was taking all I had to not lean forward. His lips parted, and he spoke in a gentle, raspy tone.

“You were at the bar the other day…”

He didn't mention my friends, he didn't mention the ruckus we were causing, he didn't mention the evident celebration. He just mentioned me… I was at the bar the other day. No one else… Just me.

I finally got my mouth to work, albeit without coordination. My brain wanted to be coy, and say something cheeky like, “So were you,” but my throat, vocal chords, tongue and mouth in general staged a coup against said brain.

Instead what came out was an intelligent “Uh… yeah…”

At least he found it amusing. He took one last drag of his cigarette, and in an unexpected display of consideration, he exhaled the smoke in my opposite direction. He kicked off the streetlight as he dropped the cigarette to the tarred road. While he crushed it underneath his slide-wearing heel, he dusted himself off, and introduced himself with a charming smile.

“I'm Bastien. Nice to meet you.”

And thus began the story of Bastien and I. We exchanged phone numbers, and started meeting up at the bar every other day. It wasn't just him and my heart at his table anymore. I was also present and participating.

Bastien…

He was like a high I didn't want to come down from. The more I knew him, the more I wanted to know him. He was unlike any other person I'd ever met. Like Rowan Atkinson’s “Mr. Bean”, it felt like the heavens opened and he just dropped from the skies.

The way he approached things, the way he spoke, his entire demeanor, all suspiciously alien, given the state of the nation.

Bastien had a lithe, slender frame, and didn't work out. “It's nothing more than vanity that society has decided to accept,” he said. Bastien smoked, because he liked blowing stuff out of his mouth, and he was bored of blowing bubbles. Bastien listened to classical music, because he enjoyed being transported to the days of old. Bastien didn't own a car, and preferred a simple bicycle, because it kept him tethered to the real world; whatever that meant.

It was little, nuanced things like that. I couldn't get enough of him. When I wasn't around him, I wanted him close. When I was around him, I wanted him closer. 

It was an unexplainable attraction, and honestly, I didn't want it explained. I wanted nothing more than to bask in the euphoria of his undivided attention.

Bastien spent most of his early years in his home state: Edo. When I asked him why he came to Lagos, he got an unreadable expression on his features. He seemed to age drastically, right before my very eyes, as he mulled over my question.

“You don't have to answer if you don't want to,” I started to say.

He shook his head slowly, his hair going every which way. “No, no… There's a lot to unpack there, that's all. But let's just say I came here for a new beginning…”

A new beginning.

I liked the sound of that. That was what being with Bastien felt like: a new beginning. One fateful night, when it felt like all the stars had aligned, and Bastien intended on taking me back to his place, my peaceful oasis dried up. Something penetrated my impregnable wall of La La Land.

Bastien worked as a remote data analyst, so he was always at home during the day. At nights, he used the bar as a way to get his steps in, and also see a few human faces, before he returned back to staring at screens and numbers and gibberish.

In terms of preparation, I'd done everything I needed to do. I was physically and mentally ready for Bastien, and I hoped he was too.

Things were starting to wind down at the bar. We were making small talk, laughing cheerily, and having a good time. Bastien was expertly educating me on the greatness of the old Benin Kingdom. According to him, the stories were watered down, and it was much grander, richer, better…

“What are you? Some kind of historian?” I laughed.

“I'll have you know I minored in history, okay?” Bastien puffed his chest out mockingly.

That came to a halt when a scaled-down Goliath walked in. Correction; crouched in. Maybe because he towered over everyone and everything, he didn't have to scan his surroundings. He immediately made a beeline for Bastien and I's table.

Bastien got up to meet him halfway. The expression on his face was akin to when I asked why he moved to Lagos, but darker and angrier. As he strode forward, I noticed his fists were tightly clenched.

I had a knot in my throat, not knowing what to make of the entire situation. Did Bastien know this suited giant? Was he in some kind of trouble?

Whatever I was expecting to happen, it didn't.

Goliath kept his hands behind his back, and bowed respectfully at Bastien? I wasn't the only stunned person in the bar. Everyone present watched this unfold with puzzled looks.

“Why are you here, Paul?” Bastien asked, hands in pocket.

Paul, the Goliath, stood back to his full height and spoke in a booming voice. “I come with an urgent message from your family, Sir Bastien.” 

Was that his version of an inside voice? The whole bar could hear what he said? Heck, the next building probably heard Paul.

Bastien wasn't impressed. “If it's what I think it is…”

“They’ve requested your immediate return home, Sir Bastien,” Paul bowed once more.

“No.”

“Sir, I was instructed to not take no as an answer,” Paul remained tilted forward.

“No,” Bastien’s tone was level.

“But Sir Bastien, you've been gone for –”

“Paul!”

I jumped in my seat, as did everyone else; Paul included. No one expected Bastien of all people to lose his temper so unexpectedly. He was the exact opposite of short-tempered, but at the moment, his entire demeanor screamed anger.

“Yes, Sir Bastien?” Paul’s voice had lost most of its baritone.

“Go home… NOW!” There was finality in Bastien's statement, and the giant man picked up on it. He robotically turned around and exited the bar.

When he was gone, Bastien's shoulders slumped. He facepalmed and sighed in exhaustion. “Sorry about that, everyone,” he apologized to the bar. Then, he came to our table and grabbed his jacket. “Let's get going,” he cracked a smile at me.

After what I just witnessed, I felt the uncontrollable urge to make a joke; as you do in awkward situations. “Whatever you say, Sir Bastien.”

He playfully pointed at me. “You better don't make this a thing.”

“Whatever you say, Sir Bastien.”

He didn't live far from the bar, so we were in his flat in mere minutes. As expected, everything was neatly arranged, and the air had that peppermint scent I'd come to associate with Bastien's presence. All in all, his self-con apartment was modest and cozy. Basically Bastien core.

Seeing as he had a distracted look on his face, I decided to take the initiative. I pulled him closer to me, ready for our lips to meld together.

Bastien hesitated. He turned his head away, eyes distant and troubled. “I'm sorry,” he muttered.

I knew I didn't know everything about him. I knew Paul showing up was weird. I knew the whole “Sir Bastien” thing was weird, but I didn't want to pressure him into talking about it if he didn't want to. But if it was troubling him that much…

“What is it? What's wrong?” I asked, ushering him to his living room’s sofa.

“I–I can't,” he shook his head as he sat.

I was perturbed and slightly scared. Did I read the situation wrong? Did he not see me in that light? Did I just mess everything up?

Bastien picked up on my internal struggle. “Oh, no, no, it's not that. It's definitely not that.”

“Then what is it?” I crossed my arms.

“He's married… That's what,” a new, sultry voice announced.

Ehn?

Weren't we alone just a second ago?

Why was there a literal goddess in the living room with us, flanked by Paul and another Paul? This strange woman's chocolate skin gleamed under the room’s fluorescent lights. 

She wore a silk, sleeveless, black evening gown, and red heels to compliment her blood red lipstick. Her eyes were narrowed, extremely cold and calculating. She eyed me like I was insignificant. A peasant, a fly.

I didn't respond well to condescending people, but this time, I couldn't bring myself to snap at her.

First, the air felt so heavy and thick that I couldn't stand up from the sofa. Second, Bastien was married?

The woman threw her head back and chuckled, a bitter, grating car crash of a sound. “Oh… Dear Bastien didn't tell you?”

Bastien was already on his feet, glaring daggers at the intruders. I idly noted that he was standing in front of me protectively.

“What are you doing here, Handi?” He sounded just like when he was talking to Paul: pissed off. “I thought I told you to go home, Paul!”

Handi wagged a red, manicured finger at him and ‘tsked’. “Paul doesn't take orders from you anymore. You gave that up when you deserted your family, dear husband.”

Wait… husband? This woman was Bastien's wife?

I felt a lot of things in that moment. At the top of the list, we had shame, humiliation and anger! Was I really just about to hook up with a married man who hadn't technically asked me out yet? Was I really that desperate, that infatuated by the mystery that was Bastien?

I hurried to my feet, and wiped my cheeks. I didn't want Handi to see me crying. If I was going to leave, I'd leave with my head held high!

“I didn't desert the family, Handi! I just couldn't do it anymore! You know this!” Bastien replied heatedly, still standing between me and his wife. Paul and his doppelganger remained mute by the doorway.

Handi yawned, clearly uninterested. “That one is your business. You've had your vacation. You've had your fun. It's time to come home. We have a society to govern.”

“What?” I blurted out. That inadvertently caused Handi to remember I existed again.

“I'm not going back, Handi!” Bastien shook his head.

“It’s been 73 years, dear husband. Are you still angry about that silly boy?” The cruel woman inquired in a sing-song tone. I stopped listening after she said “73 years.”

“Ehn?! 73 what?!”

My whole world was spinning. I was half-expecting someone to run into the apartment with a camera, telling me I just got pranked. No one came.

Bastien, still ignoring me, yelled, “His name... was George! And you killed him for no reason! You were full already! You didn't need to touch him!”

Handi rolled her eyes and faked a gag. “Gosh, you're so emotional! Is that all? That's why you ran away? And that's why you replaced that boy with this one? You definitely have a type.” She smirked menacingly.

“Leave him alone,” Bastien extended both arms to shield me completely. I didn't take too kindly to that. I wanted nothing more than to get the heck out of that apartment.

His wife tapped her chin. “You think you can stop me?”

I blinked and she'd closed the distance between the both of them. Wasn't she at the doorway half a second ago?

She pulled Bastien by his shirt and tossed him to the side. It was just a slight push, so tell me why Bastien went through his wall and landed in his bedroom, covered in debris?

I didn't have a moment to digest what just happened. Handi was all up in my personal space. Her eyes were glowing menacingly, like a lioness in the presence of a gazelle. With one hand, she grabbed my chin and lifted me up. To her, I was definitely weightless. I was up in the air, legs flailing like I had no mass to me.

“Don't feel bad,” Handi cooed. Her nails dug into my skin till they drew blood. “It's not your fault. My husband just likes boys a little too much. I always have to put him in check every few hundred years. Know that I take no pleasure in this.”

“Let… Me… Go!” I managed to let out.

Handi didn't listen. Instead, she turned my head to the side sharply, exposing the side of my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her mouth wide open. Maybe my peripheral vision was terrible, but why did her canines look so sharp and long?

Wait… Those weren't canines. Those were fangs!

My fight or flight instincts kicked in like never before. I squirmed, I struggled, I kicked out at my captor. I swung at her with all I had, but it was like hitting solid metal. She didn't budge at all.

“HANDI!” Bastien roared from the bedroom.

“Okay, I lied. I take a lot of pleasure in this,” she corrected with a smirk. “Get him, boys!”

Paul and his doppelganger moved to stand in Bastien's way. As he emerged from the bedroom, he looked crazed and feral. His hair was messy, his eyes were wide, his clothes were ripped. 

Paul's doppelganger tried to restrain him, but a simple backhand from Bastien sent the giant through the wall, out into the hallway. Paul hesitated, before he leapt into action. Bastien ducked under his swipe and punched a hole through the behemoth’s gut.

His entire right arm was covered in Paul's blood. Bastien swiftly pushed him off, huffing and puffing. Handi had taken a pause to watch all this unfold, and she looked… proud?

“There's my husband,” she beamed. “More! I want to see more!”

As if on cue, the living room became a heavy maelstrom of winged mammals! They came in through the open door, and the new Doppelganger Paul shaped hole in the wall. How the neighbors had not come out to complain, I had no idea. There had to be at least a hundred bats flying around in Bastien's flat, all of them circling him and screeching maniacally. Every once in a while, a few would suddenly transform into giants, rivalling the fallen Paul in size.

Bastien had no choice but to rip them to shreds. I watched him literally rip one of them in half. He yelled something at Handi, or was it at me? The roaring wind, coupled with the crying bats made it hard to hear.

I did hear Handi though.

“Right… Where was I?” she asked. “Oh yeah…”

The lady dug into my neck with her fangs. Indescribable pain coursed through my entire body. Before my brain could send the signal to my mouth so I'd cry out, I'd already passed out.