A Day Without Air Conditioning

[grimoireofkenji]

 

On a particularly hot afternoon, you wake up to the uncomfortable voice of your favorite (and only, thankfully) roommate, cursing in tongues that make your head hurt. You walk out of your room, and notice sweat running down your forehead. Now, it’s hot, but there’s no way you’d let it get this hot in your apartment, unless…

“HUMAN! What is this infernal heat!?” The four-armed freeloader sits restlessly on your couch, much to your chagrin, fanning herself with all of her hands. Of course she was involved.

“Did you turn off the air conditioner, Jam?” You reply, wiping a bead of sweat off your brow.

Jam is sitting cross-legged on the long sofa, but in a way where a human’s legs don’t normally bend. It seems like it’d be painful if you tried it herself. Sweat runs down her chest and torso. The gray tank top she normally wears is drenched with sweat, hanging off of one shoulder, and her underwear is almost see through. You decide not to let her catch you staring, though. Her thin figure seems to have steam visibly rising off of it. As she fans herself, droplets fly wildly around the living room.

“Do you really think I’d mess with the aircon, human?” She snaps back, looking perturbed. Jam’s recently taken to using the japanese contractions for certain words. It’s a cute quirk, even if you don’t always realize what she’s referring to. “I’ve been hitting the “power” button on the remote and it doesn’t seem to work. If this keeps up, I’ll simply reduce the thing to dus-”

“There’s no need for that!” You shout, suddenly. You rush past her, to an unpowered air conditioner. On your way across the living room, over small piles of Jam’s unwashed clothes, you catch a whiff of her scent. It smells slightly musky. It’s kind of sweet, and you stop for just a moment to take it in. Jam looks at you confusedly, and goes back to fanning herself. You shake your head and continue to the window unit. 

It’s a huge, cumbersome thing, and you remember having to convince the landlord to help you hoist it into the window. His help consisted of placing one hand on top of it to make sure you didn’t drop it three stories out of the window.

Firstly, you check the plug. Of course, the inept elder god would forget about the plug. 

“Huh, it seems to be plugged in.” You say, turning to Jam, motionless on the couch behind you.

“Of course it is, human! Did you think I wouldn’t check that?” Jam says, her pointed ears twitching a little. 

In truth, you don’t have a large amount of confidence in her. She’s a cosmic being, formed in the void, but she does things like flick between channels on an old TV for hours and stare into the static. How can something so far beyond humans be so simple?

“Okay, well, We’ll have to call a repairman if I can’t fix this.” You say, shrugging. You stand up to pull the faceplate off of the huge AC.

Light from the cracked blinds above the window unit beams in directly onto the top of your messy bedhead. It’d be much more unpleasant if you hadn’t started growing out your hair in your seclusion. 

You aren’t even sure what to look for. You brush some dust out of all the fans and visible parts. You eventually shrug and put the faceplate back on, opting to call the building’s super.

As you turn around, you’re hit in the face with something soft, and damp. 

Jam’s shirt.

You go to pull it off your face, but stop suddenly.

The scent is slightly sweet, and a little heady. You can’t help but take a deep breath in through your nose. You place your hands on the front of the shirt, pushing it closer to your nose. It’s a nostalgic scent, reminding you of something comfortable. Scenes of your childhood flash through your head. Summer days spent in front of a CRT playing Dreamcast. Did you even have a Dreamcast? You don’t care. You inhale deeply again. And again. 

Jam’s scent is slowly driving you mad. Mad in a very different way than usual, but mad nonetheless. You quickly return to your senses and pull her sweaty shirt off of your face.

You’re met with Jam’s devilish grin and freckled face, less than a foot away. 

“What’s happened to you, human?” Her yellow eyes glow mischievously. 

“I uh… I don’t know. I smelled something… nice. Did you use a new body wash, Jam?”

“I haven’t showered in a week, human. 

“Then why do you smell so good?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Maybe you have a smell fetish?” She replies nonchalantly.

“N-not a chance.” You say, caught off guard. You notice Jam’s eyes are glowing more prominently than usual. 

And then you realize it’s dark outside. 

“You spent eight hours sniffing my shirt.” Jam’s topless form looms over you. Her ribs are visible, but you’ve always thought it was kind of cute. Freckles line her shoulders, arms, and sides.

“It’s not my fault, you know? Your sweat… It has a weird scent.”

“I don’t understand, Human.”

“Like something that makes me feel happy and complete. I want that smell around more often, I think.” You respond, honestly, still kind of dazed. It’s gotten way cooler outside with nightfall, luckily, so you can worry about the air conditioner tomorrow.

“W-what!?” Jam responds, her pale face flushing red. You can see it even in the dim moonlight pouring in through the blinds. Two of her four arms cover her cheeks. Where’d she learn to act so bashful? You can’t even tell if it’s genuine, or if she’s replicating some anime she marathoned while you were at work one day.

“Well, Human, you won’t have to worry about that. I’m not going to go anywhere. So you can act like a pervert with my clothes for as long as you want.”

“It’s not a perverted thing! You’re a creature from beyond the stars! Of course your sweat would have some kind of weird effect on me!”

“I don’t think so.”

“And why not, Jam? Why is it so impossible that your smell is intoxicating?”

“Well, I don’t actually smell like anything. I only smell like what you think I smell like to you.” She says, her grin growing again. She lifts up her front two arms, and sniffs, shrugging at you.

You decide to turn in early tonight. 

“You can bring my shirt with you, if you’d like~” Jam says smugly, taunting you as you slink back into your bedroom. “Be careful not to get too intoxicated.”