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erenasia · 2 months ago

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𝑪𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑯𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒄. (𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐.)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈'𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕. 𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘?

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑿 𝑮𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 5.2𝒌

𝑻𝑾/𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶: 𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕. 𝑨 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕. 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔, 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔.

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔, 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 '𝑯𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆.' 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏'𝒔 𝑷𝑶𝑽? 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏. 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 :)

Brian rested his porcelain cup on the ground where it met the concrete with a soft ‘clink’. He watched the murky liquid swirl in the mug, before settling back and letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

Life was rough.

Since everything unfolded he hadn’t had a stable home; constantly on the move to make sure Alex, Tim or whoever else was on his tail stayed at least ten paces behind. This meant sleeping in some pretty dingy places, often battling the rats for custody of a broken chair or a pile of rubble— only to wake up and find they’d gotten into his food supply.

He hated it.

He hated running.

He hated this routine.

However as far as silver linings go, the new hideout proved to be marginally better than the last. Instead of the usual pieces of rotting furniture, Brian was graced with a stained mattress tucked underneath a mosaic of peeling wallpaper. It lay on the opposite side to a shattered window, which was hidden by metal shelving and letting in a chilly spring breeze.

The place wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good. It was just… fine.

Except for one thing.

He had no idea where he was.

Waking up on the ground only hours earlier, he hadn’t even bothered to find out.

He stopped seeing the point of that a long time ago.

It just wasn’t worth the effort, the moments of sobriety rarely lasted long enough—

because his life was a torturous light switch, forever flicking between on and off.

So instead he learned to utilise the time, organising fractured puzzle pieces to figure out a hazy jigsaw puzzle of memories. He knew the others were after him– or Alex was, at least; Brian just wished he could remember why. He awoke with vague memories, but the details, the important parts, everything that actually mattered, always got left out.

Every single time.

It was as if they were locked in a room made of frosted glass, visible— but not.

He shut his eyes, another deep sigh rumbling from his chest; later he’d unravel the intricacies of his missing memories.

For now? A hot drink, accompanied by a moment of solace.

Brian gingerly retrieved the mug of coffee from the ground, blowing the molten liquid as he raised it to his lips.

He took a sip—

And grimaced.

The man despised the bitterness of coffee; tea was more to his taste, but beggars can’t be choosers. The luck of finding instant coffee in an abandoned place like this was like finding a lit candle in a mausoleum—unlikely, unsettling, and oddly convenient. He spared a look to the hollowed out fireplace, low embers reflecting off of the metal pot he’d used to heat the water and casting faint reflections into the darkened room. At the same time, fingers tapped against ceramic in thought.

Someone had been here before, Brian knew that, he wasn’t dumb. There were signs of life all over the place: a clean mug, a pot, stacked firewood— hell, even the mattress came with a ratty blanket thrown on top. However, this area was desolate, unkempt, and miles out into the woods. Brian didn't need to check that fact to know it was true. The wildlife nearby proved more than enough; Barred owls nested in the rooftop, wild pigs snuffled in the dirt, and bobcats yowled their cries. His childhood in the sticks had taught him enough to know that those animals didn't like humans, and avoided them as much as possible, mainly keeping to the deep woodlands out of sight. Brian had no intentions to alert them to his presence either.

So he stayed away from the window, didn't bother to look outside, and remained thankful the doors were still in-tact.

Despite this however, the solitude of the place was still reassuring; Brian knew no person would stay this far away from civilization for too long, or would tangle with the beastly wildlife more than necessary. Whoever lived here before was probably just a desperate squatter that had moved on to a better abode– or worse, him, from dire times he couldn’t remember.

Either way, it wasn’t a cause for concern.

So he settled in for the night.

The man drummed his gloved fingers against the mug once more, leaning forwards on the mattress to cross his legs as bats zipped around outside. He smiled. When he was younger, he always liked listening to their squeaks in the night-time, and it apparently continued to be soothing even into adulthood. He lingered in the comfort of that for a moment, proceeding to drift in thought about his childhood whilst paying quiet attention to the faint footsteps of what was probably a deer nearby. Eyes began to droop. The fire embers hung low, now failing to illuminate anything at all, whilst eyes, hazy with tiredness, drifted around the walls of what used to be a small hut.

Then settled on a silhouette.

He froze.

Once again porcelain met concrete, yet this time Brian was far from gentle; the liquid sloshed and slipped over the edges, right as a torch was ripped from his pocket. He flicked the switch, illuminating the dangling object in a blinding beam.

It was a Jar.

Or at least the top of one, attached to the door frame by a string. The rest of the rest of it lay scattered across the ground in shards. As the beam of light darted over the fragments, casting long, haunting shadows on the walls, a sinking feeling began to settle in his stomach.

Brian swung the light towards the exit on the opposite side of the room.

To his dismay, a glass bottle hung in the same fashion completely unscathed.

His spit turned to ash in his mouth. He scanned the room further.

Upon each possible entry point, dangled something that would shatter against the wall if it were given enough momentum. Something that would be forced into a swing by an opening door perhaps, or worse–

A tall human, walking into it.

What he had originally laid eyes on was a motion trap used to alert someone of an intruder– a trap that he, in his amnesia filled daze, must’ve previously set off.

Brian rose from the bed, now using the torch to take a deeper look into the room before it flickered slightly; there wasn’t long left before it ran out for good, plunging the room into complete darkness. However he ignored the cue, gave it a harsh smack, then continued on.

One after another, objects began to reveal themselves: A partially packed duffle bag, a selection of burner phones, a half roll of duct tape, each one stashed into inconspicuous spots and seemingly un-noticeable at first glance.

With that, Brian took a step back.

How did he not notice this before? He was usually so intuitive and paid attention to every detail– checking places for signs of danger, picking up on even the faintest of noises. His self-reproach gave way to a daunting question that seared the edges of his mind; if the person living here was just a squatter… why the traps? Why the items?

He remained still for a moment more, cursing himself for his naïvety.

This home belonged to no desperate drifter.

It belonged to something off. Something sinister. Something wrong— something Brian wanted nothing more to do with.

Yet darkness always gravitated toward him, like fish to a bloated corpse.

This time was no different.

The torch flickered once, then ran out.

He turned to leave.

But you were already in the doorway.

“You again.” The words cut through the dead air like a venomous blade, followed by rugged gasps for breath. Draped in nothing but shadows, the silhouette hunched over, stifling a cough. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Brian seized up.

He clawed at his mind for a response, for a sentence– hell, even just a lone word. But silence answered the stranger instead, lingering for far too long.

The figure groaned.

“If you have nothing to say, move. Get out of the fucking way.” The words were breathless, strained, like they’d slipped out through gritted teeth.

Then the shadow stepped forward, slamming into his shoulder with a whine as they staggered towards the mattress. Brian didn’t budge. The man was too broad for the impact to shift him. His mind continued to race, stuffed to the brim with burning questions that still couldn’t translate to his mouth. Meanwhile, with a whine akin to a wounded dog, the figure collapsed on to the bedding and disappeared further into obscurity.

They were wounded. It was obvious.

"How did you know where I was? Better yet, why the fuck did you even come looking for me in the first place?” Their voice cracked. “You know exactly what you said to me last.”

But he didn’t.

The eerie weight of the conversation continued to press down on Brian, forcing his words to tangle into a tight knot and fall further into the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t recognise this person.

Not their shape.

Not their scent.

Not even their voice.

But they recognised him.

And what’s worse, they’d spoken to him.

Before.

And that could only mean one thing.

They were one of the missing puzzle pieces– one of the many gaps in his fractured memory. Their story, whatever it was, had to be buried somewhere in the jagged edges of what he’d forgotten; but with the hatred laced so deeply in their tone, it was a piece he wasn’t particularly eager to rediscover. Afterall, it was just a meaningless conversation that probably went awry, right?

Finally, Brian found his words.

“I was just leaving.”

He took a step towards the door, but before he could walk any further the figure let out a sharp disbelieving huff. Then following a soft whimper, they sat upright on the mattress.

“No. You don’t get to walk away from this twice. You break into my home, set off my traps, and-” They stop, taking a deep sniff.

Brian looked over, noting the silhouette tilting their head at the now almost invisible coffee mug.

“...And use my limited supply of coffee.” They growl. “After all that, there’s no way I'm letting you escape into the night without explaining a damn thing, again.”

The air in the room stilled, and it was as if the animals outside had curled up and died.

Brian didn’t say anything.

“First, you’re going to help me. Then, we’re going to have a little chat.”

He knew the right thing to do was leave.

To run away, to never look back.

But he couldn’t.

Not anymore. Not after two, seemingly meaningless, insignificant words left their lips.

“My home.”

His feet wouldn’t move an inch.

This now ran deeper than a previous, petty, conversation.

Because he woke up here, In their home.

Even if he couldn’t remember it, he had triggered their trap.

And hadn’t run at the sound— obviously knowing at some point the person that set them might return.

It couldn’t be a coincidence either; that word just wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore.

The signs all began to point in one direction.

Down.

This person knew him, yes.

But some part of him knew them too.

And they must’ve been close.

Close enough for him to feel safe.

Safe enough to let his guard down.

Safe enough to come here.

So he must’ve trusted them. At some point, in some timeline, some version of him must've trusted them. Trusted them enough to wait for their return, unafraid of leaving himself unguarded and vulnerable and even going as far as to let himself pass out.

He’d woken up in strange places before, but not like this. Never, like this. In someone’s house, someone who had such a clear link to him.

Brian desperately searched his memories, yet still came up blank.

“I know you’re not a man of many words, but I expected you to say something.” The silhouette spat before stifling yet another cough. “And that’s on me. Just grab me the first aid kit. It's a small box on the mantle, the one above the fireplace.”

At last, Brian’s feet began to shift– but not towards the exit. He didn’t know whether it was because of a now overwhelming need to find out more, or the fact he somewhat pitied the shadow, but he moved towards the mantle. A dim beam of moonlight provided some vision, and he reached out to grab the box which was no bigger than his hand. Then, he inspected it for a moment, debating his next move.

He would stay until they’d been patched up. Then he’d leave.

Helping them brought just enough time to figure out some answers, but not enough to involve them further in his life.

It’s the least he could do: A small payment for forgotten crimes, and a way to sate his mind’s relentless yearning for the truth.

Brian returned to the furthest corner of the room, where the dark pooled thickest and the figure wore it like a cloak. He hesitantly held the kit towards them, flinching as it was snatched from his grasp in an instant.

“Sit.”

A barked command. He didn’t push it, lowering himself slowly on the mattress so as to not harm them further. They rustled around in the contents for a moment, before forcing a roll of bandages firmly into Brian’s grasp.

“I’ll hold the lighter, you patch me up. It should give you just enough flicker to see what you’re working with.”

Brian paused, raising an eyebrow. For the first time in a while, he let a sentence escape his lips.

“I’ll light a fire inst–”

But he didn’t get to complete it.

“No. If you’re going to do that, I might as well just text him my GPS location now and save us both the hassle. A fire will be the only thing visible for miles, even indoors.”

The man hesitated for a moment, letting their sentence sink in. He couldn’t deny his interest was piqued by what they said, but chose to not pry.

After all, they still didn’t know he wasn't the same Brian.

It would stay that way too; they didn’t need to know about him. He just needed to know who they were— a summary, of sorts. Nothing more, nothing less, Just enough info to bridge the gap and then help him fix the next one.

He’d figure it out, then he’d be gone, he told himself.

He just had to tend to their wounds.

The man nodded as the lighter sparked to life. The figure remained encapsulated in shadow, but as the flame neared their arm, it highlighted a gruesome gash– blood trickling down the forearm in thin, dark lines. Brian bit his lip.

“It needs cleaning first. It’ll get infected if I just bandage it like that. We need antiseptic.”

Silence lulled for a moment, and with a click the light source vanished. When it reappeared, a single-use antiseptic wipe did too, thrust into his hands in the same manner as before. It seemed as though the silhouette wanted to say something to go with it, yet opted for a scoff. After a deep breath, they spoke again.

“Get on with it, then.”

In the dim lighting, Brian wiped away trickles of blood to a soundtrack of hisses and whimpers. Then he unwrapped the bandage. As the cloth met flesh, he began to wind the material around their forearm— pulling it taught yet keeping it loose enough for the wound to heal properly.

It was a routine he’d practiced too many times before.

In the meantime, a strange tension began to accumulate in the air. Possibly brought about by the delicate touches of Brian's thumbs as they worked, or the small exhales from the shadow beside him. As Brian carefully tore the end of the bandage, fastening it to their arm with a knot, he glanced up. The figure sniffled.

Were they… crying?

They drew back their arm, using the hand to wipe at their face, a shuddery sob escaping into the decrepit room.

They were.

“Just… tell me why.” The figure whispered.

“Why?” He mirrored. A mistake.

“Why’d you leave? Why’d you leave behind everything that had happened between us? Why’d you say…” The words were fragmented, uttered out between broken, shaky breaths.

Brian hesitated.

He should stop them. This isn’t what he wanted to find out. He didn’t want to hear the words of his previous self, ones which had apparently caused so much pain. He wasn’t sure he could shoulder another regret.

But he didn’t have a choice, because the figure said them anyway.

“... That I was pathetic for holding on. That I meant nothing to you, and that I never had. You said I didn’t belong in your world, and if I had any sense, I'd stop following you like some lost, useless puppy. You said you were dangerous. That I was too soft, too slow to understand any of it– and that I'd only get myself killed for trying. You said…I was only using you, to escape my own fate. That I was worthless, helpless, and pitiful.” The figure stopped speaking, using the time to wipe their face only to sob further.

His mind took a moment to register. But when it did, he was just thankful he couldn’t see the tears. He didn’t know what it would do to him if he could.

The sudden guilt was already crushing enough.

“I just don’t understand...” They choked out.

Brian looked away.

“I’d just confessed my love to you. After everything that had happened to me, I thought it would be years before…” They trailed off, before picking up again in the faintest of whispers.

“Just…tell me why you pushed me away? No, tell me why you pushed me away, and then came back. Was it to revel in my pain? To enjoy watching me suffer?”

Brian tensed. A quiet moment lingered. He wanted them to keep speaking, keep listing off their problems to leave no space for his own; so he didn’t have to face this, to admit the truth. But they didn’t. They stayed quiet, shuddery breaths waiting for a response.

“... I don’t know.”

He wasn’t lying, but now the truth didn’t feel like enough.

“You don’t… ” Their speech waivered. “You don’t know?” A question. A disbelieving one, at that.

“No.” Brian whispered, his palms sweating, his eyes stinging. “I don’t.”

The walls began to close in, and the urge to flee became overbearing. He was admitting too much. Learning, too much.

In contrast, the figure sat hauntingly still, like their soul had been torn from their body leaving nothing but a shell. He didn’t know what he expected to happen, some sort of blowback? Some sort of reaction, crying, shouting, getting violent, but… but there was nothing. And it felt hauntingly sickening—

because they were already broken. And now he’d broken them more.

“I see.”

The words were pained, dripping with a solemn acceptance. What followed was choked out between shuddery breaths.

“Well, let me say this. What I know, is that I-”

They took a deep, shaky inhale.

“I don't regret confessing. I don’t regret the time we spent together. I don’t regret knowing you. I just wish-”

Yet the figure never got to finish their trembling admission, interrupted by a dreadful cough that wracked through their body, causing them to convulse and gasp for breath. In a moment Brian instinctively reached out towards them. He held the shadow for a short while, waiting as their barks and gasps for air slowed.

He recognised that cough.

And he knew how violent it could be.

He just hoped they didn’t gain this affliction because of him.

Yet deep down, he now knew the truth.

Of course they did.

The two of them sat close, his arms resting on the shadow’s shoulders as they breathed heavily, their body quivering and shaking the mattress beneath. While the dead air lingered, Brian’s mind raced.

He knew it was his time to leave.

Fuck the information.

He’d learned too much already, and staying here only proved to hurt this innocent soul further, entangling them in something they had no need to be a part of. As if that weren’t enough, he couldn’t continue lying to them; deceiving this grieving heart and breaking it further. Because they were going to ask more questions.

Questions he was losing the strength to lie about.

He shifted, moved his weight towards the end of the mattress, then leant to stand.

Until a frozen hand reached out and touched his forearm softly. He stopped in his tracks.

“Don’t… don’t go. Stay.” They sniffled. “Please.”

His response was short, to the point, void of decoration.

“I can’t.”

But his delivery failed him– shaky, unsure.

“Why?” They argued back.

“Because I don’t…” Brian’s heart raced. He felt as if his throat was closing up, his voice growing hoarse; the act of coming clean was towering like a tsunami, one which teemed with corpses of his friends and threatened to crash into him at any moment. He couldn’t add someone else to that wave. Someone who was innocent in all this. Someone who at some point, loved him.

Their grip tightened.

“... Why?”

And with that, the wave crashed through anyway. Brian stood from the bed, his voice hitching as he ran a hand through his hair, mind collapsing.

“Because, I don’t know who you are.”

His breath shuddered.

“And I’m not the man you know.”

With that confession he let out a bark of laughter, but not one of malice, one of disbelief– disbelief for himself, for his situation.

“I mean fuck, I woke up here. I don’t remember, Fucking anything! How I got here, why I'm here at your place. I don’t remember what I said to you. I don’t even know how long it’s been.“

A pause.

Something dawned upon him, as a harsh breeze cascaded into the room and sent a shiver down his spine.

“fuck.”

The wind.

The feel of it.

Even the sound.

It was different.

He cut his words short, stumbling in the darkness towards the faint outline of the window. In his chaotic craze, he stilled, his breath slowing to catch it.

With horror, his stomach sank.

He heard the wind. But there was no rustling; no breeze sweeping through the trees on an early spring evening, no bushels of leaves decorating the midnight skyline. He couldn’t hear crickets.

Because It was winter.

And crickets died in winter.

Brian resumed his spiral, stumbling over to the form who so far hadn’t said a word.

They’d just watched.

“It’s…It’s winter. It’s fucking, winter.” His voice, breathy, raised in panic. “The last time I remember anything, anything, summer hadn’t even started. The last time I… the last time I was me. It was March. It was spring. But now it’s winter. And it doesn’t make…”

His breaths continued to be rugged, his fists clenched uncontrollably at his sides.

“It doesn’t make sense! When this happened before, it was a day. Two days, at most. I’d be conscious for one, and then I’d be out like a light the next. It’s never consistent like this. Never…Eight months straight.”

Brian collapsed down on the mattress, brought his knees to meet his forehead, and let go of a shuddery breath.

He wouldn’t cry.

He’d been through too much and stayed too strong to cry, so he wasn’t about to start.

Or so he thought.

Warm tears began to soak his gloved hands, and he violently wiped them away, growling in frustration. After a deep breath, he spoke again.

“I don’t know anything. So I'm sorry, I can’t stay. Because I'm a fucking stranger, to you. And I don’t know why I said what I said, I don’t know why I left, I don’t even know who you are. I just know that you shouldn’t be wrapped up in this. Because after hearing what I said? I feel so much shame, and guilt, and fucking regret for everything. For all of it. For…”

He choked up.

“For fucking Infecting, you.”

Years of pent up emotions released in a matter of moments. Shame, guilt, remorse, for any act he’d ever committed— for anything he’d done. Hurting his friends, leaving his family… this. As he devolved into almost silent sobs, the figure shuffled towards him, the cold breeze drafting in through the window and causing Brian to tremble further. They put their arms around him, sharing their warmth and rubbing small circles on his back.

“Hey. Shh, It’s okay, It’s okay.”

They uttered, resting their head on his shoulder.

He didn’t fight it.

“...You didn’t infect me.” Although he couldn’t see it, Brian heard the bittersweet smile on the shadow’s face; it was present in the tone.

“I was long infected before you showed up. I think that’s what brought us together. So don’t go blaming yourself, alright?”

It didn’t make him feel better, knowing that someone else was in this situation. But it didn’t make him feel worse. It just eased the guilt of responsibility, even if it was only by a little.

“And as for what you said… “ They trailed off, letting out a deep breath. “I don’t blame you. Or, him, should I say. I never did. I knew it wasn’t true. He couldn’t stand to see the words land, couldn’t even look at me whilst he was saying it. He was trying to push me away. But when I saw him—you— here, I just wanted to hear you say it. To confirm what I already knew.”

He let out a shuddery breath, before the shadow mirrored him.

“Still, I’m… sorry.” He murmured.

They nodded, their voice quiet as they placed a hand on his arm.

“...I know.”

They rubbed their thumb back and forth, before letting their hand slide away once more. And as it left, it brought a realisation; the comfort was nice. The touch of another human was something he hadn’t knowingly felt in years, the softness of their fingertips, the delicate rise and fall of their chest, their head resting gently against his shoulder. He sniffled, wiping his eyes once more. As he revelled in it, feeling at ease for the first time in years, he felt the need to reassure them, too.

“He came here, you know.” Brian spoke up, his voice gravelly. “He found out where you were, set off your traps, and broke in. Then he left me to wake up here.” The man stalled for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words and piecing together context.

“I think… he wanted me to find you.”

The figure tilted their head towards his face.

“What?”

Brian shrugged, then sniffed.

“I think this other version of me wanted me to fix things. Maybe the guy knows more about me than I do about him, I don’t know. Maybe he wasn’t equipped to handle it, or maybe he couldn’t face the shame of what he did.”

He let out a deep sigh.

“Maybe he regretted it, what he said. But he didn’t have the balls to tell you himself.”

The figure tensed for a moment, letting out a shuddery breath, now trying not to devolve into tears themselves.

“You think so?”

They continued stroking his back soothingly, and Brian wished they’d never stop.

“Yeah. I do.”

Brian took a leap. He rested his head against theirs, closing his eyes.

“But he chose the wrong guy. Because how can I help something that I know nothing about?”

The silhouette seemed to contemplate for a moment, as an owl hooted in the distance.

“Well, I can fill you in.”

The bats fluttered outside, attempting to calm Brian’s once again racing pulse. The figure seemed to pick up on it.

“I just mean, I can help you understand what happened. Tell you the important parts, the stuff you need to know, leave out the stuff you don’t. I’m not… expecting anything from you.” They let out a saddened hum.

And just like that, Brian caved. It would be nice, for once, not having to do all of the work, to let someone tell his story, rather than him having to figure it out piece by piece. So he agreed.

“... Okay”

In the aftermath the two sat in silence for a short while, each of them individually trying to recover from the emotional trainwreck that had been the past hour. Neither of them moved an inch, choosing otherwise to enjoy each other's closeness, soft touches, and warmth. Eventually though, Brian spoke up, wanting clarity on something he’d forgotten to question.

“So, wait, how’d you get hurt?”

The figure sat up straight with a short hum, echoed by a sigh. Brian was a little disappointed that they’d moved away.

“Oh, right… So you remember that ex I mentioned?” As the sentence was uttered, the shadow’s demeanour changed entirely; They became tense, anxious.

“The cop. You know, the guy who I found cheating with his work partner, and when I tried to leave, he tried to…”

They didn’t continue.

Brian didn’t need them to.

He remembered.

“I remember.”

They carried on.

“Tonight I was on a run into town to get food. But the fucker caught me, and ended up doing some damage.”

The silhouette shuddered. Brian sighed.

“Beat you up pretty bad?”

They nodded silently, falling back in line to Brian’s shoulder, resting their head on it once more. He felt a heat in his chest. For the first time in a long time, he felt warm inside.

“Yeah. Managed to escape though, and then walked in on you.” They laughed softly.

Brian returned the gesture, before the figure switched subjects.

“Hey, completely unrelated, but there’s one thing I've always wondered, if you’ll tell me… “

They trailed off, and Brian held his breath, his heartbeat rising slightly.

“What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah, what’s your real name?”

Brian looked at the shadow in disbelief. They didn’t even know his name? If he hadn’t been present for the past conversation, he’d have thought they were lying to him about all this. How could you be in love with someone, date someone, without even knowing their name? He’d tell them, but not before asking a question.

“Well…What did you call me before?”

They chuckled.

“Hoodie. Although I figured it wasn’t your real name.”

He hummed, trying to ignore the slight chill that travelled the length of his spine after hearing the alias.

“My name is Brian.”

It was repeated back to him, in a softer tone.

“Brian. Well, Brian, It’s cold, it’s getting late, and my arm hurts like a bitch. So,”

He raised an eyebrow, a soft smile creeping up the side of his face, amused at the shadow’s phrasing.

“Do you want to stay? I don’t mind sharing this ratty mattress for the night. If you’ll stay, we can talk about everything else tomorrow. Tie up… the loose ends. I won’t force it. But I'd like you to.”

Maybe it was the fact it had been so long since he’d been offered compassion like that. Maybe it was because of the promise of a warm bed, or maybe it was because for once, the horrors of his life seemingly drifted to the side-lines. He could have a peaceful sleep. One where he wasn’t alone.

Or maybe it was simply the fact that you were there too.

He didn’t even know what you looked like, but he didn’t care; he’d find out in the morning. Either way, it didn’t matter.

Because he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the blanket with you, and fall asleep on a winter’s eve.

“Okay.”

He chuckled.

“I’ll stay.”

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