Sebastian opened his eyes and, for a moment, wondered where he was.
The room he was in was much smaller than his room at home. The bed wasn't his. There was a rucksack beside the bed–
He remembered now. Despite everything, a smile spread across his face.
He was free. He'd packed up, withdrawn all his savings (well, only the money from his summer jobs: about three thousand dollars, most of which was carefully tucked into various hidden compartments in his bag) and headed out of town. It was the first time he'd gone anywhere by himself (bible camp didn't count).
And now he was roughing it in a small town somewhere in Iowa. It was the first time he'd stayed somewhere where they didn't leave chocolates on your pillow, at any rate.
After brushing his teeth and changing shirts, he went down to the lobby. He'd seen a dining room somewhere around here; he could have breakfast and maybe check out the community college he'd spotted yesterday after–
He didn't see the man until they collided.
"S-sorry sir! I didn't see you!" He really hadn't, Sebastian realised. He was six foot two but the man was a foot taller at the very least. He wore a green suit with absolutely no creases at all; Sebastian wondered how much starch the man used to keep it like that.
The man smiled. At least, his mouth stretched sideways and his teeth were visible. "Don't worry about it, boy. Grabbing a bite to eat?"
There was something strange about the way he spoke. Like he was saying the words out one at a time with no thought of how they would sound together in a sentence. Or like someone who'd never heard anyone speak before.
Politeness compelled him to respond. "Yes, sir."
Hoping the man was simply making small talk, he almost missed what he said next.
"...so rare nowadays. Good! You look like you could use a nice breakfast...and lunch...and dinner. I can see your bones, you know!"
"If you say so, sir."
"Come now," the man laughed, but there was something off about that as well. "Do I look old enough to be called 'sir'? But never mind. Rainey is an intersection, a crossroads. The best eating is always there."
Sebastian felt like he should say something. "Because more people pass through?"
The man's grin widened, if that was even possible. Sebastian wondered if a smile was supposed to have that many teeth. "You're a sharp one, and no mistake." He clapped a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. Despite himself, he flinched. The man stepped back.
"Well then. Enjoy your stay, Sebastian."
Sebastian frowned as the man strode away. Had he given his name? He couldn't remember.
He looked down and found he had two shadows.
"Decided to tag along, Mr. Gone?" He said under his breath. "At least I have company. Come on."
Mr. Gone was technically Antigonish, after a poem he'd come across in high school. At that time he'd wondered if the writer had his own stalker; the words described it perfectly. He'd been afraid it was a demon, but it seemed to come and go when it pleased no matter how much praying he did.
Then high school had happened, and...well, a demon wouldn't have kept him from killing himself, would it?
So the demon became Antigonish, and sometimes Mr. Gone for short. The poem was no longer completely accurate: he didn't want it to go away anymore. Not completely.
He found the dining room easily: the smell of coffee was unmistakable. The room was rather empty at the moment: a bald dark-skinned man sat by the door eating eggs Benedict and bacon, a young man in a blue turtleneck sweater was reading a newspaper, and a rather messily dressed girl was at the buffet counter loading her plate with all manner of foods.
Sebastian took a plate. Seeing the food the other two guests had, he picked out an eggs Benedict and a plain bagel. As he was trying to decide where to sit, he saw the woman sit next to the bald man by the door. Making up his mind, he sat at the table next to them and started on his eggs Benedict. Much to his surprise, it tasted exactly like the ones he'd tried at the five-star hotels he'd stayed at in the past.
Perhaps the Hawkeye Inn wasn't as rough as he'd thought.