Brad eventually exhausted his tiny insect form with his futile banging against the transparent window pane. His misery returned with the knowledge that nothing more than a thin sheet of glass had banished him from his own home.
He alighted on his six tiny legs on the brickwork that formed the window ledge, folded his wings over his back and, if it had been possible, would have sighed in defeat.
"I'm doomed!" Brad concluded.
Mark's sudden emergence from their home caught him unprepared.
"Brad!" Mark shouted. "Brad, where are you? I didn't know it was you!"
Hearing the loud words from his huge husband, an excited Brad sprang into flight and zipped toward his husband. Within seconds, he was buzzing like mad around Mark's enormous head.
His gigantic husband continued to call out his name. Unbeknownst to Brad, Mark had been able to piece together what had happened by studying the Chronivac screen and realizing what his impulsive spouse had done. Of course, when he recognized that Brad and the irritating fly that had appeared at the same time that his husband had seemingly vanished were one and the same, Mark had almost panicked.
"Fuck!" Mark had exclaimed. "I swatted him out the window!"
At that point, Mark had rushed through the house and out the door and now stood with a fly... his husband... buzzing around his head.
"Babe! Finally!" Brad buzzed. "Yes, it's me."
Mark stared at the fly, having trouble focusing on its tiny form as it remained constantly in motion.
"Brad, is it you?"
Brad buzzed closer, hovering right at the tip of Mark's nose. He could even peek into the large nasal passages, not that he took much pleasure in doing so. "Ugh. Trim those nose hairs, babe!"
"If it's you, land on my hand," Mark commanded after providing his hand, palm up, at a fairly level angle.
Brad buzzed in irritation, but he flew to Mark's hand and landed.
Mark expected to feel something, but Brad's insect form was so insubstantial that he didn't even get an impression of weight. The six tiny legs did tickle slightly as the insect skittered across his palm.
"Oh my god! It is you." Mark sounded surprised.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Brad buzzed again.
Mark stared down at the winged bug. "Let's get you back inside," he said. "I found your device. It should be simple to get you back to normal.
Mark transported the fly with reasonable care, modifying his steps to not needlessly shake or jar the little bug in his hand.
Once they got to the kitchen, Mark sat down at the kitchen table and lowered his hand to the tabletop, although that wasn't necessary, he realized, when Brad simply leapt into flight before settling down on the table's surface in the shadow of the building-sized Chronivac.
Mark stared at the screen. "I need to cancel this recurring status," he said. "I can't operate the manual control with it in effect."
"Just do it!" Brad buzzed impatiently.
Mark made the adjustments, aimed the device, and pressed a button.
Nothing. The device remained silent in his hand, but a message did flash onto the screen.
"Powering down. Recharge needed."
"Fuck," he groaned after a glance at the message. He punched the button again.
All energy depleted, the panel's fading message vanished as the screen went dark.
"Fuck!" Mark cursed again.
"What?" Brad buzzed into the air and approached Mark's face. "What's wrong?"
"Do you know if the device came with a charging cable? Does it work like that?"
Mark stopped and realized he was expecting some sort of intelligible response from a bug.
Embarrassed, Brad realized that, in his haste, he hadn't even noticed.
"The packaging is still in your lab," Mark said. "Wait here."
"Like hell!" Brad buzzed stubbornly closer to Mark's colossal face.
"All right," Mark relented. "Come along."
Moments later, Mark verified that the unit had, indeed, come without a recharge cable. But he did open up the battery compartment.
"Just four Double As!" Mark sounded pleased.
But a search of the lab revealed a scarcity of the batteries. "Maybe upstairs."
Brad flew along in Mark's wake as he ascended the stairs and began to search the house. With no luck, he hit on another idea.
"The TV remote!"
Both hurried into the living room, but when Mark slid open the remote's battery compartment, he found Triple As.
"Wrong size," he said as he stared at the thin cylinders stamped with AAA.
Brad buzzed closer, trying to scream one thing — "Do something!"
"I'll just run to the store and buy some," he announced. "I can be back in 15 minutes."
Brad buzzed closer again. He didn't want left behind.
"Listen, Brad. I am not taking you outdoors. Any bigger bug could eat you. Or birds!"
Brad shivered. He had come to that same conclusion during his brief exile from the house.
"You'll be safer here."
Brad wasn't convinced, but he didn't see that he had much choice. He alighted on the kitchen counter and buzzed.
"Just hurry," was his intended message.
"Well, remember this next time." Mark couldn't help himself. Instead of hurrying to task at hand, he decided to now berate Brad for ignoring all of his entreaties to curb his enthusiasm for experimentation. "How many times have I told you to stop these impulsive experiments?"
Brad buzzed again. Was Mark really going to lecture him? Now?
"You just wait here," Mark emphasized again. "I'll be back in 20 minutes."
"What happened to 15?" Brad buzzed in response, but his husband had already grabbed wallet and keys and was headed to the front door.
After Mark's departure, the house suddenly seemed quiet. Ominously quiet. The hugeness of the surroundings also began to oppress the little fly-man.
But he would just have to be patient...