Chapter Text
For the past three days the homeowner has been sick as a dog. He probably caught something from one of his previous tenants. Under normal circumstances a cold was only a minor inconvenience. However his perilous encounters with the pale visitor only served to remind the man that these were not normal circumstances.
“You sound weak,” the pale visitor mocked, pretending to sound concerned. “Even your pitiful human lungs betray you”.
Clutching his gun the homeowner spat “I’m armed and that’s all that matters.” His hoarse voice failed to make him sound convincing.
The pale visitor's smile widened. “Careful,” he drags out. “Dogs can always smell weakness. The slowing pulse, faltering breath. That’s when we strike”.
The homeowner jerked back in surprise causing the pale man to burst into laughter. The homeowner’s face twisted with irritation at being teased. Meanwhile the pale man chuckled softly trying to regain his composure.
“Oh how I adore watching you humans flinch at the slightest provocation,” he sneered.
Before disappearing into the night the visitor turned and said “When we meet again, things will get very interesting.” He strode off the porch leaving the homeowner feeling even more irritated.
Suddenly, the homeowner heard something behind him. He turns to see one of his guests, the bearded man stumbling backward and clutching his chest. The look on the older man's face was one of sheer terror as if the man had just seen death itself.
He tried reasoning with the stubborn old man but he wasn’t budging. Dead set that the super visitor was planning to attack them at any moment.
“He’s always babbling on about some nonsense, you shouldn’t take what he says at face value.” The homeowner spoke with a hushed voice trying not to irritate his already sore throat.
“Are you INSaNE !?” “That monster has taken out groups of those yellow fellas with the guns. He can crumble a gun like it's kindle and you DONT take him seriously?”
The bearded hunter spat back in a fit of panic.
“I can tell you’ve got a couple of screws loose boy. Better yet it’s probably that damn cold messing with your head. How the hell are we supposed to get through this if you can’t even think straight.”
“Well what the hell do you propose I do ? I’ve already tried getting more rest and drinking more water and that has done jack shit”.
The homeowner shot back, matching the hunters volume. Unable to hide the frustration and weakness in his voice.
That seemed to stir something in the older man, his expression shifted from anger to guilt. The hermit stiffened, had he gone too far?
He’s never been good with confrontation no matter how hard he tries and right now couldn’t handle this shit. Breathing through his nose the homeowner grabbed his shotgun and made his way to his bedroom. Keeping his eyes glued to the floor as he walked past the bearded man.
After shutting his bedroom door he placed his gun next to his bed and plopped on the bed. Running his hand through his hair he contemplated the visitor's threat.
‘Dogs can always smell weakness. The slowing pulse, faltering breath. That’s when we strike’.
He hates how much he thinks about that pale freak. Absent-mindedly, he grabbed the shotgun, the bearded man’s comments on the visitor's strength replaying in his mind. Could he even stall the visitor with bullets alone?
Popping the shotgun chamber open made the homeowner's blood run cold.
It was empty.
Eyes widening at the disturbing realization that he wasn’t armed. If that monster decided to break down the door while they were talking he wouldn’t even be able to stall it. He’s never forgotten to load his gun before…
Maybe the huntsman was right. Maybe this cold was really messing with his mind. A sound coming from the kitchen shook him out of his thoughts. He placed the shotgun back on the ground before getting up. He needed to remind himself to reload his gun after this.
Making his way to the kitchen the homeowner finds the bearded man preparing to leave. A hunters knife and a couple of supplies laid sprawled out on the kitchen table. The bearded man glances up at him as he enters the room, leaning against the fridge.The homeowner shoots the hunter a questionable look, as the hunter gathers his belongings and supplies.
“I’ve made up my mind, boy I’m going out to get you some medicine.”
Arching his brow the homeowner was skeptical of the hunters motives. “And how manny beers is that gonna be?”
“You heard the vermin, he's gonna strike any day now. Besides, we won't stand a chance against these visitors if you’re sick”.
He stiffened realizing the hunter wasn’t lying. Letting out a sigh of defeat he reaches for something along the side of the fridge. “Well, if you insist on going out, you probably should take this map”. The homeowner handed him a crumpled map of the city he always kept with him whenever he went out for groceries. Grabbing the map, the hunter straightens it out to get a better look. He stroked his beard, deep in thought as he examined the map.
“I’ve got a couple of hours before dawn, but it looks like I’ll have to camp out in one of these buildings during the day”.
He folds the map and shoves it in his back pocket. “I should be back within two days”.
The homeowner nods in agreement. From what he’s told him it sounded like the bearded man possesses many years of experience in hunting throughout the secluded wilderness.He was more than capable of searching for supplies. But that didn’t help the pit forming in the homeowners stomach, as he imagined the worst case scenario. Sensing the other man's worries he attempts to comfort the homeowner.
“Don’t you worry about me boy, I’ve got my hunting knife and water, I'll be back in a jiffy. The only thing you have to worry about is that damn stoner.”
The huntsman wasn’t wrong in that regard which did somewhat ease the homeowner’s worries. The bearded man shuffled past him, making his way out of the kitchen to the front door. The homeowner looked at the floor, picking at a loose thread on his sweater. As the huntsman grabs the doorknob, he falters for a moment, looking back up at the sickly man sulking in the hallway, “Hey”. The hermit looks up to meet the eyes of the hunter.
“Take care of yourself, son”. Shutting the door behind him leaving the homeowner with one guest.
***
The visitor watched from afar as the bearded man left the house. What a delightful surprise it’s been a while since they last met. The memory leaves a bitter taste in his mouth frantically searching for safety pleading for entry. The huntsman aimed his rifle at his head as he yelled at him to leave. At the pale man’s feet lay a scatter of gravel. He bent down, fingers hovering for a moment before selecting a particular jagged pebble. His arm moved with sudden precision as he flicked his wrist. The stone cut through the air barreling toward its target.
Thud.
It struck the back of the Huntsman’s head with a thunk. The Huntsman jolted, hand flying to his skull. He spun around eyes wide scanning the yard and the darkened windows of the abandoned house surrounding him.
It looked like the man was about to say something, but halted. Lips pursed into a thin line as he clenched his jaw. The familiar feeling of being watched washed over him. He cursed to himself, regretting not taking a can of beer with him. Picking up his pace continued forward clutching his hunting knife.
Stepping deeper into the shadows cast by the overgrown trees the pale man's smile stretched abnormally wide. He was going to enjoy tormenting him.
***
While he was thankful the Huntsman cared enough about him to go out and find more supplies. He couldn’t help but be thankful for his absence, always telling him to rest and save his energy. Sure it was out of concerns for him, but he didn’t want a guest bossing him around in his own home. However, now he was stuck with this pothead.
He should probably check up on the free loader even though he didn’t want to. Gritting his teeth he took a deep breath before heading over to the bathroom. The homeowner was met with the stoner slouching on the dryer wearing a goofy looking expression on his face. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“The ceiling,” the hermit responded coldly.
The stoner broke into a delayed fit of giggles. “Good one… good one…” He squinted upward at the ceiling above them. “…Wait. I don’t get it.”
Rolling his eyes the homeowner stepped up to the mirror to brush his teeth getting ready for bed. After scrubbing his teeth clean he opened his mouth to inspect his teeth. He inhaled sharply causing him to go into a coughing fit. He tries to swallow it down but it only makes the coughing worse creating a tightness in his chest.
The stoner patted his back trying to help the poor bastard.
“I get you man, toothpaste tastes like total shit, that’s why I stopped using it years ago”. He says as the homeowner lets out a raspy breath glaring at him.
“I appreciate your help but I don’t need it. I just need some medicine to help with this sore throat”. Choosing to ignore the last part of the stoners statement.
Blinking lazily the stoner reply’s “nah man, you don’t need any of that medicine mumbo jumbo. What you need comes from Mother Nature, the good shit”.
The homeowner gives him a questioning look. “And how the hell are you going to get me some alleged ‘good shit’?” The homeowner emphasizes good shit with air quotation.
The stoner beamed at the question, missing the sarcasm in the hermit's voice. “It's all good my man I got a stash at my homie's apartment. It’s like a 40 min walk”.
Bewildered, the homeowner just stared at him. “That’s not… you know what, knock yourself out, I’m going to bed,” he rasped walking out of the bathroom past him. The stoner walks out of the bathroom towards the front door “Don’t you worry bro once I get my stash you’ll be better than ever”. He didn’t see the homeowner flipping him off as he walked down the hall.
Swinging the door open the stoner struts out the front door. “Whoops I better keep this shit unlocked wouldn’t want to lock myself out”. He mutters to himself gently closing the front door.
The homeowner opens his bedroom door kicking off his shoes leaving them by the door. He changes into some pajamas and plops himself on the bed. He can only hope he feels better in the morning.
***
His body stirred awake as he felt the temperature in the room begin to rise with the sun.
For a moment he felt better, more refreshed than he swallowed. His throat feels like sandpaper, his head throbbing in deep, heavy pulses that seemed synced to his heartbeat.
“You’ve got to be kidding” he croaks as he sits up in his bed.
He pressed his hand to his forehead. Burning, he didn’t know if it was because of the solar flare or this cold.
The ache had spread everywhere down his spine, into his legs, behind his eyes. Even blinking brought him mild discomfort. Though his body begged him to rest his mind was screaming at him to get up and start the day. Just endure it a little longer. He thought to himself as he begrudgingly got up from his bed. Throwing on his blue turtleneck and pants.
He slowly moves down the hall one hand trailing along the wall for support. He felt nauseous, quickening his pace despite the dizziness clawing at his head.
By the time he reached the bathroom his breathing was shallow and uneven. The hermit fumbles with the light switch. The sudden brightness hurts his eyes. Scrunching his eyes shut waiting for them to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light.
As the homeowner slowly opens his eyes. He is met with his reflection staring back at him. Did he always look this terrible?
His eyes are bloodshot accompanied by dark bags most likely due to lack of sleep. The dark circles were made more pronounced by the redness across his face.
There has to be something to help him get through the day. Then it dawned on him that he had some liquid pain reliever on the shelf above the sink. He reaches up rummaging around for something that would ease his sickness. Finally he sees the bottle tucked away in the back. The homeowner lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing the bottle eagerly. He feels a wave of nausea washing over him moving too fast. He hates being sick; it strips him of his strength and makes him weak. Something he couldn’t afford right now. Eyeing the suspicious bottle in his hands. It looked ancient, the name on the bottle being faded. Turning it in his hand the expiration date confirmed his suspicions, it’s probably a biohazard at this point.
Desperate for some relief he decides to bite the bullet and gargle it.
He recoils in disgust from the taste leaving behind a prickling burning sensation on his tongue. The smell was harsh and overwhelming. He gagged but welcomed the numbness that followed afterwards.
Deciding to reward himself for taking the medicine he heads over to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. The homeowner takes a sip, his face scrunching in disgust “Eugh”. The medicine still lingering in his mouth ruining the flavor of the beer. Grimacing, he decides to take his unfinished beer to the bedroom.
He pushed the chair up against the night stand not wanting to be too close to the TV. He was slumped low in his chair watching ballerinas dance across the screen. He felt loopy, the combination of no food, expired medicine, and beer surely is to blame. Perhaps not being able to fully ground himself in this hellish reality allows him to experience this short moment of blissful unawareness. Strangely enough he was quite happy giggling to himself watching the dancer perform.
It reminded him of how his wife would twirl in her dress. It would never fail to put a smile on his face. Whenever he was too stubborn or drunk to go to bed she would always put on her beautiful sheer night gown. The gown was a shade of dusty rose that hung on her body perfectly. She would slowly inch towards twirling around him and gently place her hands on his face cupping his cheeks. dragging her hands down his frame to meet his hands and pulling him up to stand. Gazing longingly at him with those puppy eyes of hers. They would playfully sway towards the bedroom giggling like high school sweethearts each step of the way.
God he misses that woman his brow furrowed as he felt tears threaten to spill. Rubbing his eyes he cleared his sore throat in a feeble attempt to hide his emotions. But from who ?
He was alone, nobody could see him in this pitiful somber state. He lifts his solemn face up to look at the television. A sudden realization that nobody is here. He could do whatever he wanted. He glances at the TV screen seeing the dancers spin around gracefully. He could even dance like a ballerina and not one damn person would see it. The homeowner chuckles to himself the idea of a broken down man twirling around like a princess was amusing to him.
The image of the pale visitor peering through the cracks of his window flashed in his mind. Maybe he wasn’t alone. To be honest he doesn't know the last time he truly was alone. He had become accustomed to that overwhelming feeling of being watched. But for whatever reason he didn’t feel it today. It felt almost wrong, the realization tugged painfully at his heart… God his emotions were all over the place today. He needed another beer.
He reached for his beer on the nightstand but ended up knocking the empty can off. Hitting the floor with a clank before rolling underneath the bed. Shit when the hell did he finish it? He let out a defeated groan not bothering to get up from his chair. He simply slid down in his chair and onto the floor.
Sluggishly, he reached underneath the bed feeling around for the can. When his hand grazed against something hard pausing, he squinted peering underneath the bed. The dim light cast by the TV illuminated the silhouette of a box. Intrigued, he grabbed the lid of the box and a wave of Déjà vu washed over him. Dragging the box out sitting up straight. Bittersweet memories surfaced, moments he once cherished now tinged with loss.
Putting the box in his lap, he slowly opened it along with some old wounds. Inside were pieces of a life once shared.
Worn photographs of their adventures together, with bits of jewelry, and wrinkled love letters shared between them during their youth. A few of the letters and pictures bore faint tear stains. A grim reminder of the countless nights wallowing in misery. The homeowner hadn’t touched her box since this whole calamity started.
Did he really leave it in such a jumbled mess? He asked himself shuffling through the box in a dazed state.
His fingers brushed against something soft, her sheer night gown folded unevenly as if he’d shoved it back there to avoid the pain of remembering. Letting out a strained breath he takes the gown out of the box with trembling hands.
The overwhelming sense of dread drags him under like a current.
“Oh god dammit ….. why now.”
He croaks out, a cold sweat washing over him. He just wants her back for her to embrace him and tell him everything will be okay. He clings to the night gown like it’s his last lifeline. Hunching over he wheezes trying to catch his breath. His thoughts racing he will never see her again or feel her embrace.
In a panic, the homeowner stands up gripping the night gown close to his chest. His legs felt like jelly as he stepped over the box and out of the room. Adrenaline rushing through him, scattering through the hallway. The sunlight peaking through the cracks of the blinds temporarily blinds him as he stumbles down the hall toward the bathroom.
The hermit bumps into the doorway before entering the bathroom. Panting, he places a hand on the washing machine to keep his footing. Each inhale felt as if he was rubbing sandpaper against his throat.
He grabs the bottle of liquid pain relief, twisting the cap off and chugging it. His body shook with disgust, his eyes watering from the foul taste coughing violently.
The air felt heavy like he was cooking in an oven and a trickle of sweat rolled down his back. Setting down the night gown he ripped his sweater off. Kicking off his pants leaving him in his underwear. He took a deep breath, the medicine numbing his entire throat. Hunching over the sink he turns the faucet on, splashing the cool water in his face. Realizing how thirsty he was he cupped the water in his hands and slurped it eagerly. Granted it probably would have tasted better if he hadn’t chugged expired medicine prior.
Relief washes over him followed by drowsiness. The medicine dulled his senses. He thinks about how Vera would probably scold him for doing something this stupid nagging him about his self destructive tendencies. His heart ached yearning for her comfort. Glancing back at the night gown he picked it up, studying it. Eyes hazy and unfocused his stomach was tying itself into knots.
Hesitantly the homeowner puts on the night gown. Stumbling back he pressed his back against the wall the room was spinning. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor. The cool bathroom floor offered much needed relief to his feverish body. He lies down holding himself the same way he used to hold her his eyes growing heavy as he drifts away.
***
As the moon rises the visitor takes long strides toward the house. He had gotten a little carried away with his game of cat and mouse with the huntsman. The pale man stalks up to the human’s house making his way towards the window by the front door. He checks himself in the reflection of the window, wiping the blood off the corners of his mouth and fixing his hair. It was an unusual habit but he always tries to look presentable. Once satisfied with his appearance the pale man walks up the stairs to the front door. He knocks three times eager to hear his plaything at the door stalling the inevitable.
The pale man waited about 5 minutes, but he heard nothing. Usually by now he would have heard the homeowners approaching the door or the click of his shotgun before entertaining him.
Did the homeowner leave ?
The idea of the human leaving made his stomach turn. From what he recalls the homeowner had only one guest left. After that the wretched hunter left so it wouldn’t be out of the question. He presses his ear against the door, listening for any sudden movement or breathing.
Strange, he definitely hears people inside. A faint snore coming from within the house. Letting out an agitated huff as he knocks again. Practically slamming the door with his fist.
The homeowner was jolted awake by the pounding at the front door. He laid there on his side for a moment, trying to remember his surroundings. No matter how hard he tried fever warped his mind. He stared at the tiled floor for a moment. The only sound in the room was his deep breaths. He’d almost forgotten that there was someone at the front door.
Lazily, he pulls himself off the bathroom floor groaning as he stumbled black dots crowding the edge of his vision. Grabbing the edges of the sink to keep from falling.
There was another knock at the door and the homeowner winced at the sudden noise. “Ugh hold on” he grumbles as he finds his footing. Taking a step outside the bathroom towards the kitchen.
He grabs a cup from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of water. His mind still felt hazy and he glanced down and nearly dropped the cup. He was still wearing the night gown and heat rushed to his face as shame washed over him. He froze, eyes widened. How the hell is he going to greet guests at the door now and let alone let them in? He’s all by himself and has no idea when the huntsman would return or if he is coming back at all.
Okay let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is fine. The hermit told himself he tipped the cup back and drank it in one long swallow. He doesn’t even know who’s at the door. He could just tell them to leave and go change before he lets anyone in. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all, hell he was even feeling a little better.
His internal monologue was cut short by more frantic knocking at the door.
Tapping his foot impatiently the visitor counted the seconds that passed by waiting for the human to answer the door.
“Okay, okay I’m coming, hold your horses.” the homeowner yelled walking down the hall toward the front door.
“I have no horses to hold; the only thing I am holding is my tongue.” the visitor barked, shifting his weight.
The homeowner stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat as a cold sweat washed over him. Truly he doesn’t know what he was expecting. He always had the worst luck.
The pale man hummed to himself pleased with the human's reaction. Even if he couldn’t see it he could hear it. “Aw what’s the matter, Cat got your tongue?”
At a loss for words the human took a step back, eyes fixed on the floor. His fingers twitching towards a shotgun that isn’t there. Clutching the hem of the gown as he began to internally spiral.
“I-“ he cleared his throat attempting to hide the fear in his voice.
“….No?” It came out more as a question than a statement. He cursed under his breath.
Confused, the pale man stared at the door “No ?” He repeated back questioning if heard that correctly.
Shit, this was bad. The bastard could probably tell he was lying through his teeth. He needed to say something, anything. In the spur of the moment he blurted out.
“No, I’m not alone.”
His hands immediately fly to his face covering his mouth. His eyebrows raised, the gravity of his mistake hung heavy in the air.
The visitor frowned at the response tilting his head to the side.
“That wasn’t the question.”
He said slowly. Something foreign stung his heart, this isn’t normal behavior for his the human. He usually enjoyed the uncertainty in the human voice but in this case he hated it.
His face twitched.
“Are you feeling okay?” The pale man questioned, uncertainty in his voice as if he didn’t know if he was allowed to ask.
The homeowner paused, lowering his hands from his face. “What?”
“You’re quite skittish tonight. I can hear you squirming around. You always sound so certain when you speak but now your words sound unsure. Usually you hide your cowardice well but tonight you’re covered in it.”
His statement came across as a threat rather than a concern. The homeowners chewed his bottom lip trying to figure out a way out of this situation. Was there a way out of this situation?
Shit, he was definitely on to him. The monster had super hearing so of course he knew he was alone. It was only a matter of time before he tore down the door and tore him to shreds.
“Wellll?” The visitor grit out attempting to sound polite yet the irritation was evident in his voice.
“I’m just..” he opened his mouth to speak but the words never came out. A desperate gulp of air stalling his mumbling. If he could just stall him even for a second it could give him at least a chance of making this out alive.
Eyes darting around the room the homeowner's eyes fell on the chair next to the coat rack. Hastily he wedges the chair underneath the doorknob. Taking a step back from the door as if it was a ticking bomb.
Perplexed, the pale man stares at the door, his brow ceased as he analyses the sound he just heard.
“Tell me why are you acting so peculiar tonight? Are you hhidingg something?”
He asked, pressing his hands against the oak door, attempting to peer through the spy hole.
Sensing the visitor's gaze the homeowner practically shrieked.
“NO”
And slammed his hands against the spy hole. His heart was beating out of his chest face flushed a deep red at the thought of the visitor seeing him in such lewd attire.
“It’s… uh” he stalled trying to think of a way out of this situation.
The visitor stepped back offended. Sure the human lacked manners but he’s never seen him act in such a way as if he didn't peer through the windows regularly. The one day he doesn’t stalk the house the homeowner is acting suspicious.
“It’s what? Is it fear? Scared that I’ll let myself in?” The pale man growled.
“It’s none of your damn business, why don’t you go bother someone else” he barked back. It was evident the visitor's patience was wearing thin, but so was his.
The homeowner was exasperated, slowly walking backwards keeping his eyes fixed on the door. All he had to do was run to the bedroom and grab his gun… or change first. He would decide once he gets there.
“I like to see you try.” The human mumbled underneath his breath.
Anger flared up as the visitor grabbed the doorknob growling. “Oh I’ll GLADLY-”
He was cut off mid sentence with a simple twist of the doorknob as the door flings open and the chair is knocked onto the floor.
The front door wasn’t locked.
The homeowner just stood there, hands at his side, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. How the hell did he not notice the door wasn’t even locked?
The pale visitor has a confused yet disappointed expression on his face as he looks at the chair on the ground. Stepping into the house examining the flimsy chair. Was this barricade the human was talking about? As he looks up his expression changes to bewilderment, slacked jawed, staring at the homeowner who looked lost despite being in his own house.
“OH MY DEATH WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!?!?”
He yelled, his cracking violently as took in the scene before him.
Completely and utterly mortified, the homeowner's face was flushed red as he used his useless hands to cover himself. He looked as if he had been a deer caught in headlights, trying to figure out what to say “it's-“
Suddenly, the sound of someone stepping on the porch draws both their attention, the pale visitor turning around to look at the source of the sound. Eyes widening with hope the human stared excitedly at the door. Had one of his guests finally return and come to his rescue?
The prophet stood still as a leaf. “Oh.. is this a uh” trailing off examining the situation, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. For the first time he was at a loss for words. “I’ll ... come back another time.” walking off in a hurry.
The visitor just continued to stare in complete confusion as the prophet as he scurried away. What the hell is happening?
Taking the opportunity the homeowner bolts down the hallway.
Whipping his head back around he caught the human fleeing.
“I DONT RECALL BEING DONE WITH YOU!” his voice boomed from the entrance, chasing the homeowner down the hall.
The human slams the bedroom door behind him wheezing as he stumbles to find his gun. His eyes darted to the bed where it lay on its side. Loud footsteps boom through the hallway as the visitor makes his way toward the bedroom. Petrified, the human shook violently as he grabbed the shotgun. With trembling hands he cracked open the shotgun’s chamber. The hollow click echoed louder than it should have. His stomach dropped as he looked inside the empty. No bullets. No second chances.
“No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no” he mumbled to himself.
The door exploded inward crashing against the wall with violent force. The visitor's heavy breathing filled the air. Each inhale scraped through the silence like a blade. The floorboards groaned under its weight as he stepped closer. The smell of iron and dirt assaulted his senses.
He didn’t look up.
The homeowner's eyes remained fixed on the shotgun in his hands, the empty chamber still gaping open, mocking him. His grip loosened, the weapon sagging slightly as the last of his resolve drained away. There was no panic left in him. No scramble for escape. No desperate calculation.
Only the quiet acceptance of what came next.
A shadow stretched across the floor as the pale visitor approached. Exhaling slowly, he accepted his fate.
***
The visitor's breathing ragged. He didn’t know what to expect but he wanted answers.
Why was he acting so differently? Why did he leave the door unlocked yet protest him coming in? And most importantly why was he wearing that garment?
He shook his head trying to rid himself of these racing thoughts. One thing was certain he was going to get his answer one way or another. Though he knew the human wouldn’t tell him, not without a fight.
But the human was not fighting, nor yelling instead shaking.
The human trembled though he tried to hide it. A small broken sound slips past his lips, a quiet cry he cannot force back down. Tears gathered in his eyes. He wipes at it angrily but more follows.
His shoulders sag in defeat.
The visitor tilts his head slightly studying the human. He’s never seen the human in such a state it was unsettling and that’s a lot coming from him.
The human’s fingers move to the sheer nightgown clinging to him carefully holding it in his hands.
“Just… let me take this off” he murmurs. “I don’t want to ruin it. It’s one of the last things I have of her.” His voice cracked at the end.
The visitors' breathing falters. A wave of unease prickles through him sharp and unfamiliar.
“What are you talking about?” He asks, the words uncertain. He trails off gaze flicking from the homeowners to the rifle.
Tightening his grip around the shotgun, the human jolted up. Startling the visitor.
Before the visitor could even react the shotgun was hurled towards him. Clashing into his chest and on to the floor. Stumbling back he looks up at the homeowner, meeting his tearful yet furious glare.
“YOU WON, YOU FUCKING WON” he shouts fury cracking through his voice.
“IM DONE WITH YOUR SICK FUCKING GAME you hear me? Done”
“Just hurry up and end it.” The homeowner pleaded as his chest heaved.
The visitor stood there frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the homeowner with unsettling focus. A pained look in his eyes.
“What are you waiting for? ” the homeowner cries, his voice splintering. “Come on DO IT.” Tears stream down his face, his voice cracking into a sob. “Please…”
The homeowner's rage doesn’t last, His features falter as he gives into desperation. His knee buckles as he crumbles to the floor, weeping into his hands.
“I don’t want this anymore.” His voice spikes, nearly hysterical. “I just- I’m just tired of having to pretend that I’m not constantly terrified. Pretending that my loneliness isn’t eating me alive.” His words begin tumbling over each other.
“I just can’t anymore. I just can’t.”
The homeowner continues to wail and scream into his hands waiting for his demise. The desolate bed room echoes with the sobs of a broken down man.
Hesitantly the pale man takes a step forward, something unsettled twisting in his chest. Something dangerously close to a human emotion that should have died a long time ago. Sympathy.
After a couple of minutes of sobbing, the homeowner's sobs are reduced to hiccups and sniffing. As his breathing slows and he wonders why he hasn’t been mauled yet. Slowly lifting his head he looked up, the visitor was no longer in the doorway. Roughly wiping his eyes he wonders if he just imagined the whole thing. He really was losing his mind wasn’t he?
Suddenly his skin pricked with goosebumps, the familiar feeling of being watched returned. Looking over his shoulder he stares at the bedroom window expecting to see those piercing black eyes staring at him. But to his surprise the window was empty.
Shifting his gaze to the right made him nearly jump out of his skin. The pale monster was mere inches away from his face, intensely watching him. The homeowner stifles a shriek, his hands immediately moving to shield himself.
Surprised, the visitor flinches back mirroring the human's movement. A conflicted look written on his face. Turning his head away he hunches over, his eyes glued on the floor. Just like a guilty dog.
If the homeowner wasn’t so petrified right now he would have laughed at the sight of the pale man trying to appear less out of place.
The pale man glances up at the homeowner. For a brief moment their eyes met. Flustered, the pale man gaze quickly returned to the floor as if he was afraid to look the human in the eyes. Not wanting to frighten the human any more than he already had.
The homeowner frowned, a flicker of guilt rising in his chest. He hesitated unsure how to put it into words.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m so used to you being intimidating.”
The pale man’s shoulders loosened, some of the tension draining from his frame. Still staring at the floor he absently picks at the wood with his fingers.
“There’s no to apologize, I’ve also grown accustomed to your usual antics”
The homeowner furrowed his brow, irritation flickering across his face. Before he could ask what the visitor meant he was interrupted.
“Why did you run?” The pale man asked with genuine curiosity.
The homeowner paused, taking a slow deep breath for the sake of his blood pressure. “Oh, I don’t know.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Maybe because an eight foot tall super visitor came barreling at me at the speed of light while I was standing there unarmed in a damn night gown”
He threw his hands in the air. “But sure let’s pretend that wasn’t at least mildly alarming.”
Tilting his head the visitor genuinely looked puzzled. Was he actually confused right now?
“You ran away, what did you expect?” he said as if that explains everything. “If you throw a dog a bone it’s only natural he will chase after it. Furthermore, I have never seen you behave in such a bizarre manner.You piqued my curiosity.” He says while motioning toward the human his lips curved into a shit eating grin. “I must say… I prefer these new pajamas. They look absolutely stunning on you.” The words came out in a sweet tone that didn’t quite suit him.
The homeowner glares at him. “These are not my pajamas—” he stops, so abruptly he nearly trips over his own words.
Squinting he glares at the visitor “…Wait.”
His expression shifted from offended to profoundly baffled.
“What do you mean new pajamas !?”
A long, horrified pause.
“How” he demanded slowly, pointing at the visitor like he was in front of a jury. The visitor's grin widened, finding the human horrified expression amusing.
“How do you know what I wear to bed? How the hell can you even see me? I close the blinds! I checked them twice! What the hell are you doing, wedging yourself into the cracks of the walls like a damn cave diver?!”
The visitor gently presses his index finger to the homeowner’s lips that same infuriating shit eating grin plastered across his ghostly face.
“Eheh… you ask too many questions" he croons in a mocking voice.
“Humans wear pajamas to bed yeees? So far I’ve only seen you wear three different pairs”. He pauses as if he's debating something in his head. “Technically two pairs, but I’m not sure your under garments would fall under that category of clothing.” The pale man said, still deep in thought.
“So you’ve… when did you?…I don’t even know where to start” the homeowner admitted face palming.
“You should wear these pajamas more often.” The visitor said eyes sweeping over the human with appraisal.
“Why?” The homeowner asked. Not bothering to remove his hand from his face.
The visitor responds with a faint smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Because I like the way you look in these pajamas. Don’t misunderstand me. I like the way you look in general, you are very pleasant to look at.”
The homeowner doesn’t know if he’s offended, flattered, or terrified. By the comment. Choosing to scowl at the pale man, his dignity hanging on by a very thin thread.
The pale man’s smile flickers, then slips entirely as his gaze drifts from the homeowner’s face back to the floor. For a moment something uncertain passes behind his eyes.
“Though” the visitor adds more quietly “if the garment brings you that much misery… you don’t have to wear it.”
The homeowner was taken aback by the pale man’s statement, studying him. Searching for any hints of insincerity. For a moment it almost seems like he cares about him… to some extent. Pursing his lips the human contemplated how to properly explain his feelings.
“Hm, I wouldn’t say it brings me misery.”
The visitor shifts. “Well, it certainly does not bring you any joy… I don’t see why you are so protective of it. You look like it’s hurting you.”
“It does.” the homeowner admitted. “ It hurts so fucking much just looking at it feels like someone is ripping my heart out. But I still cling to it. I'm not sure I’ll ever let go. It’s a reminder of the happiest time in my life. When I was with Vera”.
Glancing at the night gown “So this garment belongs to her?”
A bittersweet smile cracked across the human face. Holding the ends of the gown while reminiscing.
“Yeah she was my wife. She was the light in my day. With her I felt complete. I was genuinely happy for the first time in my life. I looked forward to waking up next to her everyday. I just didn’t know that it was going to be cut short.”
He croaked out, on the verge of tears. “I just thought I was going to have a little bit more time or at the very least get to say goodbye. I’d never imagined I would return to this dreadful feeling. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve this.” His throat was tightening as he fought back more tears. Letting out a shaky sigh, he continues.
“I know she’s gone, I know I’ll never experience that kind of warmth again. It died with her. I don’t know why I keep going… if that’s the happiest I’ll ever be, then what’s the point of continuing…”
The pale man stared at him with an intensity that made the air feel heavy. For a moment he said nothing, simply observing the human.
Choosing his next word carefully.
“The world is always changing and it will continue to change no matter what. Things will happen without a reason or a cause that’s life. No matter how hard you try, you cannot ward off death for she is inevitable. I can assure you death did not take your wife as some form of punishment. It was simply your wife’s time to return to her. However…”
Trailing off, the visitor's hand hovered over the human's hand for a moment. His pinky brushing against his knuckles, before gently taking his hand.
“While it’s true that you may never experience your wife’s warmth again. That doesn’t mean warmth is gone from your life forever. The love you shared was unique and nothing will ever replace that but you will experience other forms of love. It may be quieter and softer. It won’t be the same as what you shared with her. Though different doesn’t mean lesser. Your ability to love didn’t end with her, it's part of who you are. And in time you can experience new happiness.”
The homeowner’s eyes began to swell with more tears, fighting the urge to break down again. The pale man opened his mouth to continue but the words never came. The human suddenly lunched forward wrapping his arms around the other in a warm embrace.
Startled, the pale man blinked at the unexpected contact.
The homeowner pulled himself closer, his voice a faint whisper against the pale man’s shoulder. “Thank you. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
His brain was short circuiting, the human was hugging him so tenderly it overwhelmed him. Letting out a shaky breath the visitor wraps his arms around the homeowner drawing him closer into his lap. The homeowner shifted naturally, straddling him.
“What are you doing to me?” He asked himself, dropping his head in the crook of the human's neck.