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Kamal grit his teeth as he drove his slightly beat-up car down a street he was unfamiliar with. Just yesterday, he was having a good day; he didn’t feel as overwhelmed with his mundane existence as usual and treated himself to some takeout. It was looking to be one of the better days of his lonely, unimpressive life. Of course, by Murphy’s law, he came home to his apartment flooded by his upstair’s neighbor’s bathtub. The entire porcelain tub had crashed through his ceiling and left a mess of broken tile and soggy drywall. Though the landlord said he wouldn’t have to pay for any damages, she instructed Kamal to stay at a friend’s place or hotel until it was fixed. Just a couple nights, she said, surely you can crash at a friend’s place for a bit!
Kamal could if only he had any friends close enough for such a favor. Somehow, he ended up talking to the flower kid. He didn’t ask if he could stay at their place, obviously, but half-heartedly asked, in a quiet mumble, if they knew of anywhere he could stay for just a couple nights. The flower kid’s eyes lit up as they nodded. Before Kamal could reply, they scribbled an address on a post-it in the shape of a daisy. When Kamal asked for more details, they simply giggled and gave him a wink.
He didn’t know what to think, but he trusted the kid. After all, they talked his unhinged ex-boss out of ripping out over a dozen people’s teeth out for ‘the greater good’. So he packed his suitcase with enough clothes for a few days and extra toothbrushes and made his way to the address.
While turning a corner, Kamal wondered idly who exactly lived at this address. It was obviously a house, not a hotel. Who was willing to shack up a complete stranger? Maybe it was a family member of the flower kid’s, and they had convinced their relatives to help out. Or maybe it was an old habitatian he had fallen out of touch with. Kamal was never a social butterfly and didn’t have the courage to reach out to them after The Habitat disbanded. Or maybe it was someone he was once close to and wanted to catch up, like the janitor Wallus.
When he pulled up to the address, he knew it was none of these.
The one-story house was small enough to be a cottage, and absolutely surrounded by flowers. Hydrangeas, zinnias, and lilies of every variety sprawled from the ground, vibrant and healthy, almost blocking out the view of what little lawn was left untouched. Bees and butterflies lazily lingered, drawn to the flowers like a flame.
He knew who lived there, knew the kid had set him up, and knew his gay heart was not ready for it.
Despite the butterflies threatening to break out of his stomach like an alien parasite, he parked on the side of the road, got out, and walked up towards the front door. His steps felt robotic and slow like he was walking through knee-deep water. His gaze was unfocused, yet he managed to not trip on the cobblestone path through the flowers and to the tiny porch. At the door, standing atop the door mat, he froze. Sweat dotted his forehead while his fist shook timidly mid-air, on the verge of knocking. His hand clenched and unclenched as his mind raced with possibilities. Maybe he should ring the doorbell instead? Or use the rusty knocker? Or just run back to his car and drive off and sleep in his car for a few days to spare him all this anxiety?
“Kamal?”
Kamal jumped. That familiar, low, Russian voice…
He turned around. There Dr. Boris Habit stood, right behind him, standing amongst the flowers, clad in gardening clothes and holding heavy sacks of fertilizer in his arms. Dirt stained the knees of his overalls and his gardening gloves, while his yellow sunhat was untainted by earth, though pale from the sun. His face was a bit sweaty, but his eyes were clear, no post cry crustiness clinging to his long eyelashes. Even his curly red hair pulled back into a low ponytail and full of daisies looked healthier.
“Kamal!” Habit dropped what he was doing at his feet and ran up to Kamal, who was still frozen. The poor man’s heart stopped when Habit threw his arms around him and gave him the tightest hug. “Ohhhh, Kamal I’m so glad to see you!!”
“Y-Yeah, nice to see you, too, uh…” Kamal’s nose crinkled. “What’s that smell?”
Immediately, Habit flung himself away, appearing distressed while looking at his dirty gardening gloves. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry, I was-was giving my lillies flower food, which is, um--”
Kamal looked over Habit’s shoulder to see the bags he had dropped. Even though he couldn’t read the label, he knew its contents included manure. Or rather, he smelled it. Cringing, he realized the very real possibility Habit had accidentally gotten it on his shirt now.
Habit looked ready to cry, but he managed to prattle, “I’m so so sorry, here come in! You can change into one of my clean shirts while I clean up!”
“Uh, no, I, uh, I can just wear one of my shirts--” But Kamal was too late. Habit had already opened the front door, dashed past him and made a beeline to what Kamal assumed was the sink. Holding his breath, Kamal took a tentative step inside.
There were as many plants inside as there were outside. Dozens of ferns, house plants, and a few cacti decorated almost every surface and shelf. Where there weren’t plants, there were cozy pieces of furniture, like the worn-out tartan sofa or the basket of yarn and knitting needles by an armchair. A silly cat clock hung on the wall, its eyes going back and forth in time with the swinging tail. Kamal sighed, relief washing over him for some unknown reason, but when he released his breath, he caught the faint smell of freshly baked bread.
Habit popped back into Kamal’s line of sight, clean and changed. He wore a pair of slacks, a pink button-up shirt, and even let his hair down. In his haste to freshen up, a few of his shirt buttons were mismatched, and a good handful of wild curls sprung from Habit’s head.
“Oh shit I am too gay for this,” thought Kamal, biting his lip. He barely snapped out of his stupor when Habit handed him a shirt.
“Here! You can change into this!”
“Huh?” Kamal looked down to see a neatly folded mint button-up shirt in Habit’s hands. He picked it up wordlessly, already knowing it’d be too big on his tiny twink frame.
“Oh, where are your bags? I can’t imagine you to not bring a toothbrush at least!” Habit interjected into the silence.
“Uh, i-in my car, I--”
“I’ll get it for you! You go change!” With that, Habit ran back outside, leaving a flabbergasted Kamal behind.
The series of events that followed led to Kamal wearing a shirt three sizes too big, sitting at a tiny dining table as Habit flitted about in the kitchen. Kamal wasn’t sure what his ex-boss was cooking but it didn’t smell half bad. Meanwhile, he stared at his reflection in the cup of tea Habit gave him. Chamomile tea, he thinks. His reflection looks so unfamiliar from this angle in the unreliable surface of the liquid.
“Uh, so…” said Kamal.
“Yes?”
“So...Flower kid put you up to putting me up for a few nights?” He took a sip of his tea.
“Oh, I wouldn’t put it like that!” Habit’s back was to Kamal. Judging by the sounds, he was chopping vegetables. “You see, I have been sl-ow-ly patching things up with everyone that was at the Habitat! However, no matter what I did, I could not get in touch with you.” He paused. “Parsley suggested I change my email among other things to avoid more serious legal trouble...I assumed you had done the same. Even though I wanted to see you again, I...I didn’t want to be pushy.”
Kamal choked, hot tea spurting from his lips. “Ohmygod, he wanted to see me, he wanted to see me all this time, yet you just HAD to change your email address for a ‘fresh start,’”
“Kamal?” Habit turned around, still holding a knife covered in the remains of beets. “Are you alright?”
“Y-Yeah, ‘m fine. Just swallowed wrong.” Kamal cleared his throat. “So, um, what are you making?”
“Borscht!” He chirped as he poured chopped up beets into a boiling pot. “It’s a kind of soup made with veggies and sour cream.” Once the final piece fell into the pot, he glanced at Kamal almost worriedly. “I-I hope that’s alright? I can make something else--”
“No that’s fine. Uh, not that I’ve ever had it, but it smells good,”
Habit brightened up. “Oh thank you! I’ve been taking lessons!”
“From who, Jimothan Botch?”
“Not quite, we’re learning how to cook together!”
“Wait, really? So he’s no longer making food out of trash?”
Habit stirred the borscht with a ladle. “Well, kind of. Did you know there are people who need realistic and tasty looking fake food?”
“You’re telling me there’s a demand for that stuff?”
“Yes! For places that want to display their yummy food but don’t want it to go to waste! Food is very per-ish-able, after all.” He used the ladle to pour the soup into two bowls.
As Habit added the finishing touches, Kamal said, “Sounds like you’ve kept in touch with everyone from the Habitat.”
“Yup!”
“And everyone’s doing better?”
“Yes, not thanks to me,” his tone turned sad as his shoulders slumped. Kamal wanted to open his mouth to say something, but his vocal cords refused to budge. All he could do was stare, lips parted dumbly, as Habit turned around and carried two steaming bowls of borscht. Kamal’s mouth watered as the smell hit him in the face. The stew was a vibrant red with chunks of vegetables poking out. A generous spoonful of sour cream sat at the center, a stark white in contrast to the rest. Even a tiny green leaf sat atop the white. An herb, Kamal assumed. Thyme or dill maybe.
“You made this?” he blurted out.
“Um, yes?” Habit replied, confused. “Is there something wrong? I-I can make something else--”
“Nothing’s wrong! I-I was just surprised!”
Habit’s expression twisted with worry. Oh crap, Kamal was making poor Habit anxious with such vague accusations. He felt his own anxiety rise in his throat. He would swallow it down with the stew if he had a spoon. “I-I just, um, was surprised there isn’t any silverware!” He chuckled nervously.
That calmed Habit down. “Oh, silly me! Let me get them!”
Once Habit walked back into the kitchen, Kamal held a staring contest with his murky reflection in the borscht. In the silence, absent of conversation, his mind played over the past several minutes. Such a normal conversation. With his ex-boss. After what felt like forever since they last met. He felt...light? Almost at ease? This cozy little scene, just two guys catching up over a home-cooked meal...there was a gaping hole inside his heart, had been for a while, and this corner of domesticity filled him with a yearning for more, so much more.
“Geez, that’s gay,” he thought gayly to himself, smirking. Despite this, he prayed for this mood to linger as long as possible. By some stroke of luck, when Habit returned with spoons and napkins, their conversation returned. A few hitches here and there, but a conversation nevertheless.
Long after the borscht was finished, after the dusk swept past them, after the moon rose in place of the sun...only then did Kamal’s eyes feel heavy. His throat was sore, and his mouth dry. When Habit yawned, Kamal could do nothing but to do the same.
“What time is it?” Kamal looked over Habit’s shoulder. He saw the silly cat clock from before, but the shadows made it difficult to read the time. Of course, he could still see by the moonlight from the window what time it was.
“O-Oh, it’s time for, um…” Habit’s fingers twitched, hesitant to admit how late it was, how sleepy he was, how reluctant he was to end such a lovely conversation.
Kamal was too sleepy to notice Habit’s body language. “Geez, it’s late.” He rubbed at one of his eyes. “‘Don’t think I’ve ever talked for so long I’ve lost track of time.”
“It was nice!” Habit chirped, clinging to the edge of the table like some force would toss him from this scene at any moment.
Getting out of his chair, Kamal said, “I’m surprised you haven’t shooed me off to bed by now. You always were strict about curfew.”
“Aha ha...very funny, Kamal,”
He picked up his dishes to the sink. The clinking of silverware to porcelain woke him up just enough to notice the nervous energy coming from Habit, who hadn’t made a move.
“Uh, Boris? You, uh, want me to get that for you?”
“What?”
Kamal pointed with his eyes to Habit’s own empty dishes. Immediately, Habit jumped from his seat, snatching up his dishes, and swiped Kamal’s straight from his hands. Slapping on an almost too wide grin, he hugged the dishes to his chest. “Oh no no no! You’re my guest, I’ll take care of the dishes, I pro-mise!”
“Uhhh…” Kamal stood there, dumbfounded. “You sure? I don’t mind rinsing a few dishes, really.”
“I’m super duper sure!” Habit turned on his heel and dumped them into the sink. He turned on the water and began to use a hot pink sponge to scrub them clean. The chore calmed him, gave his hands something to do. Taking a deep breath, he said, “You’re prob-ba-bly sleepy from all that’s happened to-day.”
“Yeah, actually...is that okay?”
“Of course! It’s perfectly natural to be sleepy after a long day!”
“I mean, is it okay if I hit the hay?”
Habit paused his scrubbing. Though his back was to Kamal, he could sense his ex-boss raising an eyebrow. “Hay? What hay? I don’t have a barn.”
“Oh, right, English isn’t your first language…I mean is it okay if I go to bed?”
“Oh! Yes, yes, of course, you may.” Habit scrubbed the bowl a bit harder while keeping his voice light. “Who am I to keep you up?”
“Well, okay...G’night, Boris,”
“Sweet dreams, Kamal,”
Normally, Kamal had a hard time falling asleep in a bed he wasn’t used to, but after changing into his PJs and brushing his teeth, he collapsed onto the guest bed and fell fast asleep.
At least, for a couple of hours.
He reluctantly opened his eyes. With a groan, he sat up, keeping his legs together. His bladder banged against him, demanding release. Standing from the bed, he waddled to the tiny bathroom in the hallway. Five minutes later, after a flush of water and washing his hands, Kamal exited. He paused to take in how differently Habit’s house looked in moonlight. The furniture he had only first seen hours ago looked eerie in the shadows, their silhouettes unfamiliar. Just part of sleeping at a new place, Kamal thought. Maybe by tomorrow night, he’d know them a bit better. He could even learn to recognize the gentle rustle of leaves outside his window facing Habit’s backyard and garden. He’d even be able to get used to the sound of subtle murmurs from Habit’s bedroom.
Wait, murmurs? Was Habit really awake at this hour?!
As Kamal listened, he noticed the sounds were more akin to...whimpering. Anxious. Distressed. Holding his breath, he tiptoed down the hall, following the sound to Habit’s bedroom door. The sounds grew louder, and accompanied by rustling sheets. “Habit…?” Kamal whispered against the door. “Uh, everything okay in there?”
When he got more whimpering and rustling as a response, he hesitantly reached for the doorknob. Twisting it, he slowly, slowly opened the door. As it creaked open, Kamal’s eyes widened at what he saw.
Habit laid in the middle of his bed, twisted in thin bed sheets, panting and sweating, squirming and crying unintelligible pleas. His hair tangled around his face and neck, almost choking him as tears streamed down his face. He continued to twitch and turn, almost violently.
“A nightmare?” thought Kamal.
He so badly wanted to run over to Habit’s bedside, to shake him out of his torment, to bring him back to reality where he smiled and gardened and had a lovely conversation with--but Kamal’s cowardly feet stuck to the ground like glue.
It wasn’t until Habit turned to the side facing Kamal and roll off the bed did the cowardly curse break and Kamal yelped, “Boris!”
Habit’s eyes opened in a flash. The fear in his dilated eyes broke Kamal’s heart as the man gasped for air as if he had nearly drowned. Despite waking up, Habit did not appear to notice Kamal’s presence, or even his surroundings. His unfocused eyes welled up with tears as he curled into himself, clutching at his long red hair, tugging it from his scalp. He took deep, shaky breaths as thoughts and emotions flooded into his mind.
Kamal fell to his knees before crawling over to Habit. “H-Hey, Boris, it’s me, it’s Kamal, c-can you hear me?” He gently pried Habit’s hands away from pulling his hair out, then brushing the hair out of his face. “Boris, Boris, it’s me,” he whispered, locking eyes with Habit’s.
Somehow, Kamal’s dark, brown eyes snapped Habit in him. The tears, momentarily, stopped. His breathing steadied. His grip relaxed. “K...K-Kamal…?”
“Yeah, I’m here...A-are you? I mean, here? All there?”
Habit sniffed, then nodded.
“Do you wanna sit up?”
A nod. Kamal gently grasped Habit’s hand and pulled him upright. Now his sorry mess of hair framed his entire frame, swallowing his shoulders and covering his face. Kamal brushed the hair out of the way to find tears welling up once again in Habit’s eyes.
“Must have been a pretty bag nightmare, huh?”
Habit’s lip quivered.
“Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?”
Bringing his knees to his chest, Habit curled up and whimpered.
“N-Not like we have to right now! I mean, only if you--”
“‘M sorry…”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I’d--” Habit wiped his face on his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to-to--”
“Hey, whoa there,” Kamal said, using every ounce of courage to keep his voice steady. “It’s not like you meant to get a nightmare. Pretty sure no one does.”
Habit glanced at him curiously for a second, before his gaze went to his feet. “I thought that...I-I’ve been doing so well lately, that I thought I’d be okay…”
“Uhhh, what do you mean, ‘doing so well lately’, and stuff?”
“I...I’ve been...trying to...heal…” croaked Habit. “To get...to be better. To not be the monster I am. Was. I-I wanted to be good enough to...to see you again...without being my ‘old self’.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Even the Flower Child put fai-th in me. I’ve been trying to hard to be good, to be nice, to…” He sniffed. “But I can’t-can’t keep it in...I-I’m such a baebey…” He choked. “How can I make you happy if I cannot keep myself happy…?”
Under different circumstances, Kamal would be a blushing mess at such words, that Boris Habit wanted to make him happy. But Habit’s broken chords and watery eyes felt like hot stakes to the heart. Kamal, running on instinct, cupped Habit’s chin and tilted it towards him.
“Hey, it’s okay,” He wiped the tears away. “It’s not like I’m mad at you like this. I mean, it’s not like you’re insulting my dental hygiene again.” He used two hands to cup Habit’s face, thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones. “Look, I...I don’t know all that’s going on in your head right now. Didn’t back at the Habitat, either. But I can say with certainty that you’re a lot better now than back then.”
Habit’s eyes widened. “R...Really…?”
“For Pete’s sake, Boris, look at you! You’re taking care of yourself, your garden--heck, you’ve even reached out to everyone else and practically patched things up with them!”
Habit’s eyes looked away at the last part. Kamal cringed; okay, maybe ‘patched things up’ was probably an exaggeration. Takes a big more than catching up and being nice to make up for the fact you nearly gassed everyone with laughing gas and yanked out all their teeth. But regardless…
“You’re trying, dammit. You’re putting a real effort to making yourself better, Boris! Look at what you’ve done! What you’ve...you’ve...accomplished!” He paused, then nervously chuckled as he stared at his knees. “And look at me… All I’ve done is gotten a normal job and a normal pad. I haven’t made any social calls at all besides Flower Kid. I’m still the anxioux coward I always was. Couldn’t even work up the courage to reach out to you.” He looked back at Habit, piercing his gaze. “You’ve gotten better, Boris. You’re...you’re good. I knew there was always good in you, but not it’s...better? That probably doesn’t make sense, but...Look, so what if you had a mental breakdown in front of me? I’ve seen you unhinged! Literally! With your jaw and dozens of extra teeth!”
“...I still have those extra teeth,”
“Wait, what? But you...your mouth looked normal when we ate…”
“I can...put them away.” Habit opened his mouth. There were two rows of average, human teeth, save for one missing at the front. Suddenly, out of the roof of his mouth and beneath his tongue, several more rows of teeth slipped out, in a horrifying display. The maw remained for a second before they retracted back, as if nothing had happened.
Kamal leaned back in shock. “Those freaking things are retractable? And you still have them?!”
“They always were. I simply...never got around to removing them. Even if I did, it would be a difficult task for myself, alone. And I don’t want to cause trouble with other dentists…”
“O-Okay, we got off track. Besides the teeth thing, look at you.” Kamal grasped Habit’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ve improved. You’ve gotten better. We all have slip ups sometimes. Even people who...who haven’t tried to steal a stranger's teeth go through with it sometimes.”
“Really…?”
“Really. Recovery isn’t linear, or...however that saying goes.” Kamal locked eyes with Habit. “Besides, you’re helping me out by letting me crash for a few nights. You can let me help you back!”
“I...I…”
“I was your assistant, remember? Helping you used to be my job. I know I wasn’t as good at helping you as I should have been, but...I want to try. So please?”
Habit sniffed. The waterworks were on the verge of unleashing once again, but this time, Habit flung himself at Kamal, face in his chest, arms around him, and cried. Snot and tears stained Kamal’s pajama shirt as Habit held him like a lifeline. Kamal awkwardly patted Habit on the back, trying his best to comfort his ex-boss.
They sat there together, curled up into each other as Habit cried his heart out, letting his emotions run their course until all the tears left Habit’s eyes. Once Habit’s breathing steadied, Kamal helped him change into clean pajamas, and get back into his bed. Habit gave him a sad puppy dog look, silently begging Kamal to stay, so with a sigh, Kamal crawled in beside him. They laid like that, falling into a gentle, dreamless slumber, and stayed there until late into the next morning.