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The Homeowner was left alone in that basement for almost two whole months. His food supply was low, his resources were low. All he had was his gun. It became a thought of comfort, a thought of choice. One he had considered taking many more times than he’d ever admit, for the shame of even acknowledging such a weak way out ate away at him far more than the desire to die. Even a week after the Cataclysm seemed to have come to an end, he stayed in that basement. The world was trying to repair itself, trying to ignore all that’s happened.
He almost felt at peace though. He had so much time to think… so much time to accept. There were nights he sat on those steps and cried. There were days he had stared down the barrel of the gun and smiled. There were specks of blood against the brick holding the foundations of his purgatory above, after hours of punching them out of anger and loathing. Then there were the times he had laid against the floor cradling the gun and feeling nothing at all. Not grief, not anger, not joy… An obsolete abyss of nothing at all.
Eventually all the anger had passed though, eventually alone in his thoughts he’d come to feel… calm. Peaceful. As if all the years of his denial and self-loathing had finally released its grip around his throat, it felt peaceful because he had found acceptance.
It wasn’t a happy kind of acceptance. It was the kind that’d make you cry, a kind that’d fill you with a somber sorrow. Despite that, it was the most peaceful he had ever felt.
For a while, he had told himself there might not even be a reason to leave the basement. This was all there was. For a while, he had prayed—if God could even hear him, if God even cared—for the walls to crumble down. For all of this to be put to rest.
The walls never came down though. The house stayed as still as it always was. No one was coming back either. No one was coming home.
He truly was alone, now.
***
It had taken him a few extra days to get back up on his feet. The first week was the hardest, there was some rubble all around, dust cluttering his shelves and furnishing. The yard was covered in debris, and the city was a desolate landscape of catastrophe. Miraculously, the TV box was still intact and even had news stations playing.
“FEMA urges caution towards wandering around the streets at night until we are certain the threats have been eliminated,” said the Reporter. “Visitors seem to have crumbled along with the heat and some have reportedly been seen burrowing back into the ground. Please, if you see any caves or suspicious activity report to FEMA immediately!”
He wasn’t sure if he felt relief knowing the visitors were potentially gone. Some part of him, some guilty part, was almost sad over it. There’d be no reason for people to take refuge in his home. There’d be no reason for people to rely on him. There’d be no opportunity to prove he could be a good man. There’d be no more mornings of chatter filling the halls, no more nights of weeping, no more sharing a cup of coffee with a friend.
“The city is still under major repairs, and resources are scarce… However, free housing will be offered in major FEMA camps around the area ... Should you need—” The Homeowner had cut the TV off there. Unable to listen to the others’ voice any longer. He hated that reporter. Maybe it was the blue eyes. The man could use contacts.
He simply laid against the bed staring at the ceiling. The heat had gotten so bad his wallpaper had been dripping off the wood. He was far too exhausted to bother repairing or caring though. It still was hot, but not nearly as hot as before. FEMA had said the climate was expected to adjust over the course of several months. This winter would be a warm one, most likely. He couldn’t say that was common, he didn’t care much for the snow though. Though ‘warm winters’ here, typically still had their coldness. He had heard of warm summers elsewhere….he shuddered at the thought of imagining what the cataclysm’s heat would’ve done to those areas.
Weeks would go by and the isolation ate away at him. Autumn felt more like spring, and when the first snow fell it still only felt like autumn. He tried to keep his mind occupied by cleaning, by fixing up the house, by reading. He even tried to take up writing, he wasn’t sure how the bar guy, Yesenin, did it. It irritated him to no end. He couldn’t even think of the first line, let alone a whole poem. He tried art, the cold man had expressed a few times he enjoyed drawing…He refused to ever show his artwork though. FEMA had taken him far before he had the chance to. A part of the Homeowner felt guilty over it, he was fairly certain the other was a visitor. Though… he didn’t seem to want to harm anyone. Maybe he did pity the man. Yesenin was a big defender of the other, protective. Constantly defending him. He figured, if Yesenin had defended him, he mustn’t have been a threat.
As the days began to get colder, though, he was running out of things to do. To distract himself with. December had rolled around the corner and he was going through his closet; one of the last places he wanted to clean. He had pretty much cleaned everywhere else at least five times over, reorganized more times than he could count, unable to ever get the exact vision he wanted. He was hesitant to move certain things around, he was hesitant to even go near other things. That's when, in the far back of the closet hidden beneath boxes of memories he had seen it.
A Christmas tree.
He almost forgot Christmas was a thing, honestly, he never cared for it much…His family was very religious, big into celebrating it. His grandmother had passed near christmas, then for many winters after Christmas became dim. Then his mother…..and eventually his father. All out of his life, all belonging to the dirt now. It was just a stain, really. A stain on his life, a stain on his memories, a horrible, terrible, memory. For the first few years of his time knowing his wife, she had brought back some kind of spark to it. He almost enjoyed Christmas then… but after her passing, he felt bitter about it all over again.
Usually, he didn’t mind being alone on Christmas….but during the cataclysm as he got to know Yesenin, and the others; one of the guests had mentioned jokingly about spending Christmas together.
That’s when the grief hit him again. When his heart ached.
Once again, there wasn’t a single soul to spend this holiday with. Once again, he had lost all he had known.
He supposed he shouldn’t be angry about it, he shouldn’t even be sad. This is how things were, this is how life had always been.
That is when he was struck with inspiration. He decided this year he’d put up that old dusty tree. Maybe he’d feel some semblance of normal….Maybe he could go out into the city square and invite people into his home. He’d spent all summer inviting others in, maybe even just for one night he could do so again.
So, that’s what he did. He dragged the tree out of the box, thank god for it being fake; he hated chopping down trees and scouting them out. He took out some old boxes of ornaments as well, a few photos would fall from the box causing him to pause.
The one, was a photo his wife had taken…he looked unhappy as ever, a frown that nearly melted from his face. He was wearing a reindeer head piece, a pair of antlers and ears. He even had a little red nose painted upon his face. Oh that woman thought she was clever.
As humility and embarrassment sheared through him, a tender softness kindled as well. A gentle smile struck his lips as he stuffed the photo in his pocket. He had missed moments like those. Even if in the moment he despised it, he had missed it.
The nights had started to appear much sooner into the days, yet the warmth of the sun lingered even in those. Finally after what seemed like hours, the Homeowner wiped sweat off his brows and looked at his work. The tree was now decorated, he felt as though he might’ve overdone it… He used the spare tinsel and lights to dress around the corners and walls. He could practically smell the memory of cookies in the oven, he wondered if he even remembered her old recipes.
Silently he prayed they wouldn’t have burned along with other belongings of his in the heat of summer.
***
He spent the next few cold nights out in the city. Repairs seemed to have gone well, people got more comfortable wandering the streets at night. FEMA still did regular checks amongst people though, out of paranoia most likely. Any mention of visitors though seemed to be shut down, there was an old theorist who sometimes tried to rally people up claiming the visitors never left. He tried to say FEMA was covering everything up, and that within a year everyone would forget all about this. Maybe curiosity got to the better of him, but he stood and listened to the mad man's rambles a few times. One night on his walks to the square he had caught the man as he was closing down his presentation.
Mistaking him for one of his loyal listeners, the theorist offered him some earplugs. “Thank you for coming to tonight's meeting, we need the truth to be spread! Soon the world will know what visitors really are–” However before the Homeowner could refuse, the man had suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders in joy. “Wait… Mikhail!? It’s you! Oh this is delightful, I was so sure FEMA had gotten their grubby hands on you– Oh you have to tell me everything,” the man frantically went on.
He had thought maybe the man’s voice was familiar, though his appearance was much different than it was previously. Instead of his blue plaid shirt, he wore a sweater over it, accompanied with a furry cotton jacket. His previous mustache, now one with the beard that dressed itself along his face.
“Isoif..?” He asked cautiously, to which the other replied ecstatically, “Mikhail!”
“Isoif…” he mumbled again, still not used to the unexpected contact.
“What brings you here my theorist friend? Have you come to expose FEMA of their lies as well? I could use another speaker with first hand experience, after all, you lived through the worst of it! Oh this is wonderful, absolutely delightful, we can spread the word so much more now with the two of us! Have you kept your ears clean? Have you–”
“S-slow down, alright?” The man frowned. “I’m just here to put up some fliers.”
The theorist quirked an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses as he looked down at the others’ arm tucked into his coat. Protecting the poorly hand-drawn fliers, each done in crayon. The man took one and observed it.
“Do you have a child I’m not aware of?”
“What?”
“This is pretty impressive for a four year old…”
The Homeowner’s face burned in embarrassment, he quickly snatched it away from the theorist’s hands. “N-No I just don’t have.. A typing box.”
“...A computer?”
“...A computer. I don’t have one.” The theorist hummed to himself in thought as he glanced over the fliers.
“Well whatever you were trying to convey here most certainly won’t be heard. How about you come to my place and we make some REAL fliers? What are you doing anyway?”
“...Trying to host a christmas party…” he mumbled, not really enjoying the idea of staying out in the city longer than he had originally intended. He looked back down at the fliers he made, yeah, no wonder no one gave a call.
Reluctantly, he nodded. He supposed his isolation had made him desperate. What better time to socialize with a full house than Christmas? No need to worry about visitors or FEMA. He had followed the Theorist to his apartment, the streets were fairly empty now and his apartment was the second story up. At some point he had thrown away his trashy fliers, not wanting to hold onto the shame they brought. He wished he had talent, any talent really. He could sing, probably, he used to do choir back in school…but it’s not exactly a talent, in his opinion.
Isoif opened the door to his apartment, it was smaller than anyone could’ve liked. Cluttered with papers all over, scribblings that he couldn’t read written in journals and notes. The room was fairly dark, the windows still boarded up and covered in blackout curtains. He had sound proofing along the walls too. Then an illuminating light from the desk, a blue laptop.
“Alright… Let’s make some magic, shall we?” The man said with a smile, gesturing to the laptop.
It took several long hours, hours the Homeowner had honestly preferred to use alone. He was in a weird paradox he felt like. Torn between wanting alone time, and wanting the company of another. He supposed it kept his mind busy. For that he was thankful. As the Theorist typed away on the computer, the Homeowner opted to clean the apartment up. He couldn’t stand sitting in such a messy cluttered place for longer than ten minutes.
By the time it was finished, the Theorist had printed out about a dozen copies. He handed them to the Homeowner and adjusted his glasses once more. “That’ll do it! Feel free to praise my amazing design work.”
The Homeowner looked at the flier, and then noticed a yellow sign towards the bottom. It declared there’d be a meeting for the ‘Underground Society of Truth’; abbreviated to ‘UST Club’.
“What’s this?” He asked, as he brushed his fingers against the ink. It clearly wasn’t professional… but it was better than whatever he came up with.
“Ah, well I figured as payment for my services you’d allow me to host one of my meetings at the party! The people need to know the truth! This scandal isn’t over yet, I just know it.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. What the hell, why not?
“Alright… Thanks.”
Before the Homeowner could leave, the Theorist had placed earbuds into his hand. “Remember, if you see anyone suspicious… Put these in your ears right away! We aren’t out of the woods yet, my friend.”
He nodded quietly, taking the earbuds just to get the other to allow him to leave.
***
He spent another three nights out in the city square, waving fliers and hoping someone would take one. No one really did… in fact the second people read the Theorist’s advertisement they’d quickly hand the paper back and mosey along. There were a good amount of people who respected the Theorist, hell some even thought he was correct… But that was during the cataclysm. Now, Christmas was around the corner and all the people wanted was to go home and have things turn back to normal.
There were a few people here and there that took a flier, maybe two, maybe three… He’d work with it. He’d be fine with only one or two people showing up, in all honesty.
When he finally got home, he slumped against the couch in exhaustion. He didn’t have any means of transportation, which meant most of his time venturing out was done on foot. Plus, socialization also tired him out much more than any physical activity. He was built for loneliness… he cursed whatever God decided to make him yearn for anything but.
When Christmas rolled around, he tapped his fingers against the sofa. He was waiting for someone to show. Anyone, really, even if it was that Theorist–Isoif. He’d listen to the man talk his ear off, if he had to, he’d hate every second of it but it’d be better than sitting here… Alone.
When the fourth hour passed and no one showed. When the phone rang, he sprang up from his seat and rushed to it. Expecting an apology, or a I’ll be there soon.
Everyone had their own plans, everyone had plans to share with someone else. The Theorist had called up, which led him only to find out FEMA had been preventing anyone from leaving the city after a certain curfew. Something he hadn’t even thought of. There was an incident recently… possibly relating to Visitors. He hated the thought, but more than that he hated that it confirmed no one else was showing tonight. He hated that the most.
This was a stupid… Stupid idea. It wouldn’t have worked, to begin with. He hung the phone up a little aggressively, as he paced back and forth in frustration. At first, it was anger, then desperation, that decided to boil over. He’d go to the tree and practically strangled it, as if that’d help anything. He tore all the decorations off, the tinsel, the strings of light. All of it. This holiday was stupid. Nothing would change anyway, he wasn’t even sure why he tried at all.
Working himself up, he ended up kicking the tree and stubbing his toe. Finally he simply sat down. The open box of ornaments and photos from previous years… he began to look through them. Some were of his childhood, some were when his wife was alive.
His frown turned into a shallow breath as he continued to look, and look. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for something specific, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Only when he neared the end did he realise water had gotten on the album somehow. Only to realise it was his own tears. His fingers lay against one photo in particular. He was smiling brighter than he ever had in his life, holding up a dinosaur figure next to his mother. That’s when the tears no longer shied from falling, the floodgates opened as he sobbed alone on the floor.
As he got older, he didn’t see a point in holidays either. His mother however, oh his mother… She adored everything about them. Even on the bad days, even when things got worse… She held a spirit like no other. Hiding that pain beneath a smile, something he never learned how to do. He could hide his pain and misery behind a glare, behind his gun, behind his doors… But never his face.
More than anything, he missed her.
All the death that followed the Cataclysm, all the losses… it all piled up one after another. He tried his best not to know anyone too personally. He told himself every day it was all temporary. That he’d be happier once things went back to normal. But he wasn’t. And he was afraid he’d never see ‘normal’ again.
His thoughts were cut off by a gentle knock on the door. He whipped his head up and sat the photos down as he quickly stood.
Maybe someone came after all….He couldn’t express the amount of happiness that swelled in his chest, he wiped the tears away and rushed to the door quickly schooling his expression. He tried not to seem too relieved when he opened up the door. Though….it seemed he wouldn’t have to school much of anything. All of the color drained from his face, all of the hope and relief shattered in an instant. Now his eyes flickered in dread.
Before him stood a tall figure. Smaller than the last he’d seen, but its appearance didn’t change much. It’s skin was pale as death, sagging from its bones. That pearly white smile…It’s eyes as hollow as the grave it crawled out of. The intruder’s eyes widened in surprise, not really expecting the man to open the door so carelessly… Not after nights of paranoid checking and questioning to all who stepped foot there. The surprise was a pleasant one, without taking any further invitation it stepped a foot inside past the barrier of alluded safety.
“My my….All by your lonesome hmmm…? How sad,” it said mockingly. The Homeowner’s feet stamped back, nearly tripping as he frantically searched for his gun. He had put it up, not needing it anymore. Oh how wrong he was. “How……Poliiiite of you, to allow me in on such a cheery day.”
“I-I didn’t-” he stumbled out,
“Ah ah,” the Intruder quickly put a finger up to pause the other’s anxious words. He held up a flier. “This clearly says all is welcomed, does it not?”
Shit. Shit shit- How did… No, this can’t be happening. This cannot be fucking happening. He was NOT about to spend Christmas with the fucking devil itself!
“Y-You’re not supposed to be here, Visitors.. They’re not- Why are you here!?” He demanded, to which the other only stepped closer… and closer. Until the Homeowner was backed into a wall.
“Why am I here…? Why are any of us?” He hated that tone, he hated its riddles. “What about you, hmm? All alone in such a spacious house. On Christmas day no less!”
He frowned, his eyes darting around for an escape.
“There’s nowhere left for you, there’s no more people coming to save you. Not from me, not from yourself, not from Her.”
“..I-I know that..” He said, trying to inch his way from the side. It’s gaze followed him, clearly aware of his little escapade attempt. It’s smile flared as it pressed its hand against the wall, blocking him in.
“Have you forgotten my promise?” It asked.
His brows furrowed, promise..? “What are you talking about..?”
“....If you’re alone. I’d invite myself in. Well…You’re alone now.”
He was, he was alone. He knew that. He knew more than that, and damn the part deep down inside of him was almost thankful for this interaction.
“...The cataclysm is over, Go.. Go bother someone else.” He tried to bark out, though it came out in a whisper.
“There is no one else. Only us, you, me. That is all there is now. I’d like to stay.”
He froze at that… it wasn’t a question, only a statement. ‘I’d like to stay’, it said. ‘I’d like to stay’. His breath paused as well, was this thing serious?
“No way! Absolutely not! What the hell’s wrong with you!?” He shouted out, pushing the creature out of his space and finally getting the courage to leave. It was a little surprised he’d even attempted to touch it, let alone push it; figuring he was far too afraid to have courage. Nonetheless it smiled.
“It’d help us both yesss? You’re lonely. It’s cold….the suits are annoying. There is nowhere else.”
FEMA…. The recent visitor attack… He turned to face it, “Was that you? The.. attack-”
“It wasn’t exactly… Planned….”
Oh god damnit. “Not planned!? You killed somebody!”
“...You’ve killed many too,” it argued.
“That’s different” His voice was firm, though he didn’t truly believe it. It wasn’t any different than any other murder. “That.. That was survival,” thats what he told himself. That’s all he could tell himself.
The pale man sighed, “The bottom line…..should I be out and about they’ll come sniffing where they don’t belong, I need somewhere to stay. That old man’s house is all nothing more than rubble and ash… This house seems to be the only one standing.”
He hated that. Of course… Of course this house still stood tall and proud after everything. No matter what hell it harboured it’d proudly peer over the hills. He hated it. More than anything… he hated it. He wished it would’ve crumbled like all the rest. All he could think about was those thoughts he was trapped with for days, weeks….Then looking at the photos earlier. His thoughts were a haze, clouded by mute anger…and partial fear. Sorrow.
“Hellooooo? You in there?” The creature waved a hand in front of him, to which the Homeowner swatted away quickly.
“Jesus- Just keep your hands to yourself if you’re staying.”
Well… That was surprising, he was allowing it in, really? Just like that? It hummed, “Much less of a struggle this time I see. I’m almost disappointed….”
He shot a glare, he hated that word. Disappointment.
“Such a fierce look! It’s cute you think it means anything to me,”
He settled on ignoring it for now. Walking off to the kitchen and grabbing a beer. He couldn’t deal with… whatever the hell he found himself in, sober. Not at all.
Much to his displeasure, the creature had followed him around like a lost puppy. It observed the beer curiously, as if it hadn’t seen such an item before… Then it glanced further into his fridge and noticed a roach. It seemed dead already, but disgusting nonetheless. Its spindly fingers reached out to the insect and he plopped it upon his tongue.
“What the fuck?”
“I couldn’t let a delicious snack go to waste, my dear homeowner…. Such protein!”
“You’re disgusting.” He couldn’t even look at the thing now. It simply laughed in response.
He sat in the kitchen, looking at the seat that his neighbor used to sit in… He always avoided sitting at the ends of the table though, as that was where his father most typically sat. He kept himself tucked away in the furthest corner he could, though his kitchen was small so that meant very little. He wondered where the visitor had wandered off to, after deciding he had enough beer he’d venture back to the living room. He paused as he saw it go through the ornaments and belongings of his.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, rushing over, grabbing the box from its clutches.
“...I was looking…”
“Obviously! why though?” He carefully looked through the box to make sure nothing was damaged. Thankfully the visitor had neatly set anything back to its original position. He was surprised to see such consideration from such a beast.
“Humans and their strange habits….What’s the point of all this?” It inquired. “...These photos, they’re quite lovely. Why hide them away?”
Oh he hated that. He hated the questions… He hated the fact the photos were acknowledged let along brought up. “It’s none of your business, alright? You wouldn’t understand.”
“I might,”
“You wouldn’t.”
The visitor mocked a frown with a displeased sigh, as it leaned against the sofa. “Some of the ornaments were littered all about. Broken even. What's the point in a Christmas tree if you won’t decorate it?”
“I-.. I was going to. I did, then… Look it doesn’t matter why do you care anyway?”
“Why care for anything?”
Again with the damn riddles and question to a question. “Can’t you ever answer anything normally?”
“Hmmm…. No. Much more fun this way, yes?” It enjoyed riling him up, no doubt.
He huffed in response, picking up the left out ornaments and shoving them all back in the box. He might as well bring the tree back to storage. As he began unplugging the tree and taking it apart the visitor quickly sprang from its seat, almost distressed.
“No no - What are you doing!? Such a lovely tree, It’s the day of trees!”
He paused…slowly turning to it almost, confused. Maybe even amused.
“Are you seriously telling me you, serial murderer, monster, skin-stealing pale bastard, super visitor… Enjoy Christmas? Oh that’s just great.”
“It’s not about pleasure, Mikhail–” It said his name. It actually said his name.
“You know my name..?”
“I know many things. I’ve heard more than you within these walls.”
That.. made him uncomfortable, more than he’d have the courage to admit.
“...That’s not fair, for you to know my name and me not to know yours. You were human once, weren’t you?”
It’s lips thinned into a straight line, clearly not enjoying the turn in topic. “That’s not the point…”
“Well? I’m letting you stay… the least I can do is inform me of my guest’s name? ESPECIALLY if you’ve been stalking me for fucking months!”
It inhaled deeply, carefully thinking over its words. “...My dear homeowner, my name isn’t important, I am not that man anymore.”
Yeah, obviously. It was a 7 foot nightmare.
“But… It was Boris.”
Surprised etched his features, as he glanced at the creature. For the first time, truly, looking at it. “Boris, huh? That’s…. Unexpected.”
“How so?”
“You seem a lot more…” He gestured to all of it, “A lot more monstrous… murderous, than Boris.”
“You haven’t met many named Boris then.”
It was a little amusing to see it almost… Offended.
“Right right, My deepest apologies… ‘Boris’” He smiled.
It was an odd sight on the man, the Visitor hadn’t seen many of those. He… Enjoyed it, much more than he enjoyed listening to the man’s weeping each night. It returned the smile, softer than usual.
“Oh please- don’t start calling me that. Just call me as you’ve always done.”
The Homeowner most certainly wasn’t going to. He turned back to the tree and sighed. “I need to put this back in storage. Don’t touch anything.”
The pale man stepped in between him and the tree, blocking his way. “No.”
“No?”
“No. You won’t be putting this away. We will be decorating it.”
Oh that’s rich, that's absurd! Decorating a Christmas tree with a damn visitor? This thing was out of its mind.
“This is weird. You and I both know this is weird.”
“Hmmm… No, I believe this is what people normally do for this day. I remember that.”
“No- I mean, You! With YOU! That’s the weird part! You’re- You’re a god damn monster I’m not about to just.. What’s wrong with you!?”
“Do you need a list…?”
This thing was insufferable. He couldn’t stand it.
“Fine- Damnit fine, just.. If it’ll get you to shut up.”
The pale man seemed quite happy at the submission, and the two would begin decorating the tree.
The Homeowner wrapped lights around the tree once more, the taller one would help wrap it around the whole base with ease. Spreading the prickly leaves out and wrapping the tinsel in-between each branch. He was almost mesmerized by its cautious carefulness…for something like itself to be capable of such gentleness.
He couldn’t remember the last time he actually decorated the tree before with someone. Even if it was someone such as this; it… it felt nice. It made him feel warm. He wasn’t sure if he should be disgusted by the feeling, knowing the company, or welcome it.
Once they began hanging up the ornaments, the visitor inquired about each one individually. He’d hand the Homeowner an ornament to place on the tree, and it’d reach in higher places the Homeowner couldn’t get to.
“What’s this one from…?” His pale fingers grazed over the glass of the snowglobe.
“A trip to a lodge my wife won in bingo.”
“You have a wife..?”
“...Had. It’s been six years.” He glanced away, focusing on the tree once more.
It gave an understanding hum, as it picked up another ornament. “And this?”
“Made it in school.”
“What about this one?”
“That… That’s uhm.” He was quiet now. All of a sudden it felt like a zipper had sewn his wind pipe up, not allowing him to speak.
“..Ah.. your wife again- I didn’t mean..”
“No,” he cut the other off. “Not her.. It’s… That’s one my Mom picked out. It was her favorite ornament. We-.. We used to hang it up last. I don’t use that one anymore. Just.. Put it back in the box.”
It frowned, but obeyed… In partial. Once the tree was finally decorated and lit, the pale man had taken the ornament and hung it up right near the top. For the whole world to see.
“Why’d you do that? I told you to put it back-”
“She deserves to be seen, no? Death is not a shameful act.” Always about death… Always, always. Some part of him almost wondered if it had met Death itself, if he had known her. The thought.. Almost brought him comfort.
“...Whatever..” he exhaled, exhaustion hitting him finally. He sat on the sofa looking back up at the tree. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t ideal… but it was far from horrible. Not as horrible as he had thought it to be.
He glanced at the pale man who stood there, towering over the tree by an inch or two; and sighed. “What’s the real reason you need to be here? FEMA isn’t a problem for you, I know that much. You could just kill them. Why don’t you?”
It paused, debating on how to answer. Or if it even would… Then it slowly sat down on the sofa. He wasn’t sure if he should tell it off or not. He simply scooted towards the furthest end he could.
“It's the cold….” It began. “Makes me much weaker than when the sun is about. It’s still warm, but not nearly enough. I can’t take ‘FEMA’ as you call them, not as I could during then.”
“So what, you’re afraid of dying? Ironic don’t you think?”
It was silent. Unable to respond. Maybe it was afraid of dying. The Homeowner pitied it all for a second, before reminding himself of what it was.
“How about you? What had happened to leave all of this littered against the carpet?”
The Homeowner sighed leaning against the back of the couch. He looked up at the ceiling groaning. “I was… Holding a Christmas party.” God, it was embarrassing to even admit.
“You? Party? Christmas? Ohhh now there’s a thought… Only you could pull off a party of one.”
He wanted to glare at the teasing, the prodding, but strangely it wasn't as unwelcome as he wanted it to be.
“Dont give me that… You asked, I answered. No one came because they couldn’t make it.. But people were going to!” Why was he so defensive over this? He didn’t even like people.
“Hmm… Loneliness is finally eating away at you I see.”
He hated that the other was right. It was eating away at him. At his very core, his very soul. It took everything in him to pull the barrel away from himself so many nights.
Then the Visitor stood again, abruptly. Announcing its willingfulness to pick up, “I’ll take this back to the closet yes? You sit tight. Rest.”
He was… confused, still. This night couldn’t have gotten weirder, after all. The thing he was so sure wanted to kill him months prior was now… In his living room, helping him decorate a christmas tree, offering to clean up. It was odd.
“...Why do you bother with all this? With me? You could’ve killed me for my home, too, you know. I’m not armed, unlike FEMA.”
It glanced at him over, lifting the box into his arms. “Why? You’re Special. It’d be a shame to kill you now…You’ve survived so much, it's thrilling. Your despair is thrilling, but your instinct to keep going is even more so. You have me… intrigued.”
He had no real reply to the statement, and it wasn’t like the visitor gave him any room to reply to begin with. It had already started walking off to the closet. He rolled a hand over his face as he looked towards the tree. The ornament of his mother’s.
“What am I doing?” he mumbled to himself.
***
When the Pale visitor had returned… It took him longer than expected. He looked at the other in an old christmas sweater, one that was a bit too small on him but seemed to fit just enough to cover most of him. He also held something… hidden behind his back.
“Is- Is that my christmas sweater?”
“...If it’s yours, then yes. I was cold.”
“Absolutely not. Off. Now.”
It ignored him, stepping closer anyway, and brought the green item to light, “What is this?”
Oh no. Oh no, no no no.
Quickly the homeowner snatched the foliage out of the visitor’s hands, “THAT doesn’t matter, Go take the sweater off! I told you not to touch stuff-”
“I got curious,”
“Curiosity killed the cat! Stop going through my things!”
It grinned, grabbing the red ribboned leaves with ease. “But satisfaction brought it back… And from your reaction, I’ll be very satisfied.”
“It- It’s mistletoe.” He said begrudgingly.
“Mistletoe…” It was in thought again, as if it tried to recall what mistletoe was.
“It's something stupid. We’re not hanging it up.”
“No? Why not? It matches the tree.”
“We aren’t. Hanging. It up.”
The visitor pouted, “Ohh Misha… You hate me that much do you? I disgust you that much?” then, sneakily it raised its arm above their heads.
Even though it had gotten smaller, as ‘small’ qualified with this thing at least; it still was quite tall. He assumed it must have been tall as a human as well, he didn’t want to think about that much. He didn’t have to for long, not when his eyes caught a glimpse of the decor above them. His ears burned red now, as the creature simply grinned.
“I remember what this is now, such unique traditions your kind has, yes?”
“T-That doesn’t count. It’s.. It’s not on a door frame.”
“...A door frame. I don’t understand the point of all of these rules.” It glanced at the red ribbon, that seemed to match the color of the Homeowner’s face now, and it tiled its head as it examined him all-to-closely.
“You’re embarrassed… Over this? Over me? You don’t really think I’d make you-”
He put his hands over the visitor’s mouth, again catching the man off guard. “Don’t. Do not. Finish that.”
His grin widened in full force as it pried his hand off, “You don’t really think I’d make you kiss me, do you? Ooh Misha…”
Oh God. He said it. He wasn’t sure why, but saying it out loud seemed to make him even more flustered. He knew the traditions and the expectations, he also knew it was something more for your highschool crushes, or your spouse. He knew it was silly, he knew it didn’t really matter and wasn’t always taken seriously… So he couldn’t fathom why now, in this very moment, he was so embarrassed.
Then, it leaned closer, “Unless…. You want to. Hmm…. As a reward for cheering you up? Being so kind to help you in your time of desperate woe and need?”
He pushed it away, “No, absolutely not. You’re ridiculous. Put that thing away.” He turned away as much as he could, much to the others disappointment. The visitor had liked seeing the emotion of the otherwise stoic Homeowner.
“Fine fine.. You can at least say thank you for not killing you, though.” It said, wandering off back to the closet and putting the item away. He had decided, then, that the mistletoe was his favorite part of Christmas.
Once he returned back to the human, he watched as the other sat against the arm of the sofa, chin in hand. He seemed troubled. Carefully joining him, as if it wasn’t sure it was allowed to, it’d speak up softer than before–losing its teasing tone.
“Did it trouble you that much..? The mistletoe. I wouldn’t have made you,”
“No. I.. I just. No, that didn’t bother me. It should’ve…”
It didn’t really understand, the Homeowner didn’t really expect it to either.
“It should’ve bothered me, it should’ve disgusted me, it should’ve… I don’t know, it didn’t. And that scares me… My… My wife, our first…” Oh he was really opening up to a monster, wasn’t he? He supposed it didn’t really matter at this point. “Our first kiss was under a mistletoe. It was stupid, nobody takes those things seriously. She liked christmas things though, and I was too chicken to make a move so she did- and… I don’t know. It feels wrong.”
“Because I’m not her,” it stated.
“Because she’s not here. And… You’re you. You’re not even human.”
The visitor wasn’t sure if there was really a difference, but there was a clear disconnect so there had to have been.
It thought to itself, for a long quiet moment. “I don’t think it matters much. I am… enjoying this mundane time with you. If you’re enjoying it too, then that’s all that counts.”
He was enjoying it, far too much, and that’s what bothered him the most.
“That’s the problem. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, not with you.”
“You can label me whatever you’d like, call me whatever devilish name you can find, I don’t mind. I don’t have regrets. I followed orders, now I follow my own.”
The Homeowner wasn’t sure what that even meant, really.
“I don’t think it’s wrong, but maybe it doesn’t have to be right either. It can just be. Until you want to say what it is with certainty.”
Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn’t. But that seemed to bring some comfort, that it didn’t have to be right either. For now, at this moment, it was just them. And for all he knew it’d be just him, eventually on his own. Alone, again. That’s how things usually went, that’s how life seemed to be. That’s all faith had planned for him. Isolation, a desolate solitude. One he no longer craved, he wasn’t sure if he ever did truly–but now he knew despite all of the isolation and loneliness he craved connection. Maybe this thing did too, and maybe that’s what drew them together. Maybe this was right after all, and if it wasn’t? Then that could be okay too.
With a flicker of boldness, he closed the distance between him and the visitor. The visitor was a little surprised at this, but wasn’t able to ask about it before the Homeowner made his move. Gently, he pressed his lips against the other's cheek. The visitor’s pale skin was cold, much colder than his own; the warmth sprouted through his veins. The warmth was quickly missed, as the Homeowner pulled away–making it fairly quick.
“That… That’s for not killing me. And staying. Thanks..” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, really he didn’t. He glanced away as if that’d hide his face, but the hue along his ears had said it all. His embarrassment was immeasurable.
The visitor raised his hand to his cheek, yet not touching it in fear of ruining whatever blessing the Homeowner placed upon him. He could only smile, the softest most human smile the Homeowner had ever seen on the visitor.
He didn’t want that human-smile to leave, so he decided to change topics rather than call it out. “So.. Uhm.. Where- Where were you planning to sleep? Will the couch be too cold..?”
It glanced at the sofa, “It may be uncomfortable but manageable.”
Tonight of all nights, the Homeowner didn’t want to feel alone. He didn’t want to be alone, not really. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle it. So, hesitantly, he had an offer, “You.. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“The office is much too small-”
“You could sleep in my room, the bed. It’ll be more comfortable for you.”
The visitor halted. For once, the Homeowner had thought he had forgotten how to breathe. It stared at him for a long moment, then another.
“Your bed…”
He didn’t think it was that ridiculous of a suggestion, though he quickly realised how it could be interpreted.
“I-I don’t mean in any kind of weird way just! So you can stay warm and comfortable… And… I…..So, if… if you wanted to, I mean you don’t.. This was stupid, Sorry forget it.”
So quick to dismiss himself, the visitor thought. “I…..Suppose, it’d be more comfortable, yes. If you want me near, I'd be happy to keep you company….” The visitor clearly had a hint of suspicion in his voice.
He felt relieved, as if a weight had been lifted. One he wasn’t all too aware of to begin with. He wasn’t sure when the last time he wasn’t alone in his own bed was, or how many nights had passed with the sheets feeling colder than a grave.
He had let the Seductive lady in once, and that kept him company for some time… but it wasn’t the same. She had other intentions, assuming what his own were. He hadn’t blamed her of course, she was trying to survive. When he told her she didn’t need to survive in that manner, she broke down. He tried to comfort her, and he was almost positive it was the only comfort she’d ever known all her life. After getting along with the widowed woman more, the two ended up spending the nights together rather than with him.
The weight dipping on the other side was unfamiliar, though not unpleasant, the pale man seemed to almost be.. Bashful, and awkward in such a place. Never once did it imagine itself in such a situation.
“..We’ll have to share the blankets. If that’s fine.”
The visitor didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure how to, and only nodded allowing itself to be tucked in. It certainly was odd. A human and a visitor. FEMA would be rolling in their facilities at the sight.
“Misha…” it said, almost hesitant. “Why did you want me to come here, what was the real reason?”
The Homeowner was still facing the door. Unable to bring himself to turn the direction of the Visitor, he couldn’t bring himself to even catch a glimpse of that window.
“I…I really don’t want to be alone tonight, of all nights. If… If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.”
The visitor thought for a moment, before sliding closer. “No, I want to be here. With you. Where we are, I like it.”
It’d snake it’s hands around his waist, though careful and gentle, as it awaited for further permission. The Homeowner nodded a gesture, allowing the visitor to get closer.
“I like this part of you.” The Homeowner wasn’t sure what the visitor meant, not really.
“This part of me?”
“So vulnerable. So emotional… You try so hard not to care for anything. Yet care is such a good expression on you.” It hummed, its hands were once again, quite cold. It seemed visitors weren’t good at regulating their body heat.
“...It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to….” He felt his body relax, something ironic to him given the danger he should’ve been in. “Thank you”, he whispered.
The Visitor smiled softly, resting up against him, “No, thank you. For this. For giving me these small moments of humanity back. Thank you, Mikhail. Merry Christmas,” and with that it pressed a gentle kiss against his hair, returning the favor from earlier.