Chapter Text
The homeowner stood in the living room absentmindedly picking at his nails well staring off at the small cross centered on the wall.
The past few days or the start of what was supposedly the end of the world with the sun exploding and zombie like parasites in the midst he decided it was best to at least be present. He was making a conscious effort to try and curb some of his antisocial behaviors now that his life depended on being a host and having to know people well enough to judge them on if they were in fact actually ‘people’ or parasite ridden visitors.
He was still extremely prone to falling back into his old habits as he’d only started to try and be social after the sun exploded. Though he still thought it was best not to try and learn the names of the people circulating in his home both because he didn’t care to and he’d already lost four people and he’d rather not get too attached like he did with neighbors daughter. That was a nightmare he didn’t like to think about at all.
Unlike names, stories were something he could detach from people. Pretend they were things he’d heard in his past or on the radio so he would listen to his guests talk and tell their story but a name solidified people into individuals. It was something he struggled to detach a person from.
A rude and rather lanky man sat across from him on the couch holding one of his beers. The homeowner mentally took to referring to him as ‘Bar man’ on account of him getting kicked out of one before coming here and his annoying habit of stealing beers. The man had only been here five days and was bold enough to take two, though the homeowner didn’t say anything the first or second time it happened and imagined he wouldn’t care enough for the third, fourth or fifth time either; if he was even still around long enough to do so.
On the other end of the couch was a man in a purple bandanna sitting awkwardly, legs protruding and taking up far more room than necessary, trying to look bigger than he really was. Next to the bar man it didn’t do much for him.
The ‘bandana guy’ the homeowner mentally nicknamed, was far more physically expressive than he’d realized. Normally things like that go unnoticed to the homeowner but in his peripherals he could see the guy moving his arms about and gesturing with his hands well switching which leg was held up on which knee.
The guy spoke rather animatedly about guns with the bar man who seemed to hold up the other end of the conversation with a fourth of the amount of enthusiasm but still more than the homeowner would’ve expected out of the pessimistic man.
The bandanna guy was good at that, talking about guns. He had, on the first few days of his arrival, consistently pestered the homeowner about learning to shoot his gun.
This wasn’t necessarily something the homeowner was against doing he just didn’t want to, especially because the first time he had agreed to it the bandana guy immediately backed out.
Originally he would’ve shot this same person as his teeth were white and his eyes were red. Both of these being huge indicators of someone being a visitor but no one had died in the house from anything other than the home owner’s gun yet so he was allowed to stay. Besides he had more energy than really anyone else in the house and although he was quite unique the homeowner used it to his advantage , walking off as the guy pestered others with his insistent questions and comments.
He truly was making a vested effort to learn about these people, to talk to them but he held grudges over the small perceived slights and shortcomings of his guests. He’d been raised to respect his elders and hosts, having his time so frivolously wasted was frustrating and so was having his beer stolen even if he had no plans to drink the beer and his days felt too long being trapped inside the house, the actions just irked him. Though he really didn’t even care about either of those things in the long run so he of course kept his mouth shut about his grievances and tried to be a good host.
He felt himself zone in and out, half listening to their conversation as the other part of his brain spiraled through thoughts too quickly to really process, what if his finger started to bleed and he had no more bandages left? What if he completely ran out of food and they had to resort to cannibalism, wouldn’t that in a sense make them visitors without the bugs? What would his ex wife think of him now; Forcing himself to stay outside his room and feeling proud of it, maybe he should go back to his room. When does this all-
“Yes, yes I think so I believe it’s a double-barreled shotgun, it looks older.. maybe 1960s. What kinda gun do you have there?”
He was snapped out of thoughts as the bar man spoke to him, nodding at him for an answer then giving the bandana guy a disapproving look; The homeowner could only assume he’d said something that the bar man had disapproved of or judged which could easily be anything and everything at least that’s usually the case between him and the bar man’s interactions.
“Hm?”
He followed their eyes to his gun and moved it from being strapped to his back to his hands, holding it up and looking it over, his right thumb tracing over some of the scuffs in the wood grain.
“It’s an over-under.”
His fingers continued exploring the gun trailing over from the comb, to the grip up to the chamber. He stared at it taking in each swirl of the wood grain as if it was the first time he’d ever seen it and he didn’t plan on looking away until the two went back to their old conversation or at least one he wasn’t a part of.
He may be making an attempt to be better at socializing but he’d already talked to four people one on one today and didn’t feel like being a part of an actual conversation.
“How uh.. how many people have you killed with that thing? Yesenin counted two. I've only been here for one… D....do you have enough bullets in case there are more visitors?"
The homeowner squinted at the gun, who the hell was Yesenin? He looked up at the bar man raising a brow at him which he in exchange gave a nod as a sort of silent confirmation to his unspoken question. He then turned to the bandana guy who originally spoke, he already seemed to be shrinking under the homeowner’s gaze.
“Only two and I have plenty more.”
He shifted the gun back to its strap and shuffled his feet once then twice before swiftly turning on his heel walking out. He’d been ‘present’ enough to learn a name today and be a part of a conversation with more than one other person so he considered this to be more than good enough for today.
He made his way toward the kitchen with the full intent of getting a drink and making some potato related meal then going to his room to sleep the rest of the day away only to pause at the sound of several voices.
Of course he had other guests but it sounded like damn near everyone else in the house was in there. He took a step back ready to turn around toward his bedroom when the door opened and a man in a FEMA outfit made eye contact with him.
The homeowner didn't like him but thus far he’d passed all his tests. The man may be a human but the homeowner still suspected he was with or had been with FEMA. He planned to push the problem further tomorrow, check his possessions but today he didn’t want to bother. He'd already done his rounds and he didn’t want to hold a conversation.
The man in the hazmat suit opened the door more, letting the hand that opened it drop to his side as he moved against the door frame giving the homeowner enough room to walk inside past him. It unnerved the homeowner with how well he held eye contact, he already didn’t like holding eye contact but the man was on another level.
He glanced Inside the room noticing the ‘gravedigger’ sitting at the table. Before the man came to his house he dug graves for a living, originally the homeowner had no intent on allowing him in with how obnoxiously he banged on the door but with a free energy drink and an extra pair of hands to dig a hole for the cat ladies body he didn’t mind his presence as much. In fact the two of them had actually bonded well they dug but that was after a few minutes of nervous explanation from the man. Though he seemed to pick up on the fact the homeowner preferred silence relatively quick which led to them digging in silence and that was perfect for the home owner.
Across from him sat an oh to cheerful of a man, which is what the home owner called him, the cheerful man. His disingenuous smile upset him, he understood why he smiled, to an extent but he didn’t like the idea of living a facade even if it was to make others happy. No one was worth forcing yourself to do something on a constant day to day basis especially if it was something you normally wouldn’t do, like smile during the end of the world.
He didn’t want to tempt them with a conversation so as the two spoke about cabinets or whatever else they were talking about he shook his head and turned. Continuing his walk down the hall as though this is what he had intended on doing all along. Taking a final glance back he noticed the FEMA agent- no ‘the scavenger’ was still staring at him from the door way.
He came to a stop in front of the only other occupied room, the closet where a foreign man resided.
Originally he’d intended on checking on him today but the homeowner had gotten tired checking the grave digger and the scavenger then talking to those two and Yesenin- no, bar man and the bandana guy as well as attempting to be around other people for longer then he was comfortable with.
He tapped his knuckles against the closet door still feeling eyes on him, he really didn’t like that little yellow man but his thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and he was faced with the tall foreigner, he stepped inside the closet.
His eyes immediately went to the man’s lips, although unkind he’d mentally labeled him as ‘wire face’ on account of his mouth being sewn when he showed up but now it wasn’t and he was just staring.
“So, you cut the stitches off your mouth?”
He motions toward his own mouth then shakes his head in slight surprise. Of course the man would’ve taken the stitches out but the wounds were a lot more gnarly up close.
“Gsrh rh z mrtsgnziv! Gsvb HVDVW NB NLFGS HSFG! Qfhg yvxzfhv gsvb wlmg fmwvihgzmw nv.”
(“This is a nightmare! They SEWED MY MOUTH SHUT! Just because they don't understand me.”)
Wireface spoke quickly, gesturing wildly with his hands a mixture of anger and frustration and to give some context to the homeowner he even motioned toward his mouth.
The homeowner tilted his head to the side and squinted at the man trying to make out words and pick out meaning from the gestures. He understood he was in general panic and that the man’s mouth had been sewn shut the night prior but he couldn’t pull any specifics.
“I can't understand you.”
He’d already given up on the idea of understanding him rather quickly; he didn't really want to exude energy on charades; he wished he was in bed right now.
Wireface slowed his frantic gesturing enough so that he could hold proper eye contact while they spoke
R wl mlg fmwvihgzmw blf. Dszg xzm dv wl? Nzpv fk hlnv prmw lu xlnnlm ozmtfztv?
(“I do not understand you. What can we do? Make up some kind of common language?”)
The strain on his lips from talking caused the small scars to reopen.
The homeowner visibly cringed at the intense stare and glanced down at Wireface’s mouth which also elicited a look of discomfort.
“Uhh your lips are..”
He extends his hand, his finger reaching for the reopened scars, he stops his hand about two feet away and awkwardly gestures at the man’s lips to play off his reaching.
Wireface arched an eyebrow, his eyes moving to the homeowner’s hand then he reached up to his mouth tracing over the new ridges on his lips pulling his fingers back he looked at the blood left on them and and let out a small huff.
“Gsrh szh yvvm szkkvmrmt zoo mrtsg, R zn mlg hfikirhvw rg hgzigvw ztzrm yfg rg rh zmmlbrmt.”
(“This has been happening all night, I am not surprised it started again but it is annoying.”)
He brushed his hand against his pants wiping some blood off then brought his hands up to rest against his neck.
“Blf wl mlg mvvw gl dliib zylfg rg, tvggrmt gsv hgrgxsvh lfg ozhg mrtsg dzh uzi dlihv gszm wvzormt drgs hlnv yollw. Blf xzm tl mld.”
(“You do not need to worry about it, getting the stitches out last night was far worse than dealing with some blood. You can go now.”)
As he spoke he gestured to the unpleasant pile of dried bloodied stitches neatly clumped up on the shelf behind him. The homeowner hadn’t noticed it before but now was awkwardly stepping back.
“Uhh yeah still didn’t catch any of that but I’ll get you a rag”
He gave wireface an awkward nod as he turned around opening the closet door. He could feel Wireface’s eyes on him as he stepped out. Now he was making his way to the kitchen for a second time in less than an hour.
He cracked the door open and made a straight shot toward the sink, actively ignoring the cheerful man and gravedigger. They glanced at him, staring for a second or two but they took the hint well enough and left him out of their conversation.
Well rifling through the cabinet under the sink he knocked over a few half full containers of random cleaning supplies that were damn near older than him. He grabbed onto a cabinet organizer pulling it closer to the front then pulled a rag out from it.
Thankfully it was clean and free of dust and cobwebs from the mini organizer it was in. He dampened a corner of the rag and as he turned to walk back he snatched his Ener Jeka bribe.
Once to the closet door he stepped in this time without knocking and his eyes went straight to the man leaned against the wall picking at his scars well squinting at a small flippable vanity mirror his mother used to use for her makeup, it’d been stuffed back here so many years ago he forgot it existed.
Wireface startled and glanced up in the midst of picking at the scabs on his face.
“ls? Blf ztzrm? R nvzm rg rh blfi slfhv.”
(“oh? You again? I mean it is your house.”)
His eyes dropped to the homeowner's hand holding the rag.
“dszg wl blf szev gsviv? Rh gszg uli nv, sld prmw.” (“what do you have there? Is that for me, how kind.”)
Wireface gestures to the rag in the homeowner's hands then wipes his hands onto his shirt. He attempts to make eye contact with the homeowner as he is handed the rag but the homeowner keeps his eyes locked on his lips seemingly checking over the scars from a distance.
“Still didn’t get a word.. you really shouldn’t pick at that, it looks pretty bad.”
His nail pick at the pull tab of his drink.
“I might have some alcohol to clean it up. I should be able to help and do some testing well we are at it”
Wireface just gave him some glances along with nodding at his words. Clearly he didn’t understand but he nodded as a way to show he was listening.
“Gszmp blf”
(“Thank you”)
Wireface lifted the rag and motioned at it well offering a small smile, one that didn’t stretch his lips much then he returned to dabbing at his lips.
“Yeah you’re welcome..”
The homeowner cracks open the energy drink and takes a single sip then sets it on the shelf nearest to him. Quickly he left the closet once more and walked basically straight across the room to the bathroom.
It was left ajar so he pushed it open, it didn’t open all the way but he didn’t question it and just stepped in. Once inside he rummaged through the shelves grabbing a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide for any possible stains in the carpet.
Once everything needed was collected he turned around only to jump back and let out a noise of shock. It was almost a yelp mixed with a sort of choking noise as he made eye contact with the FEMA man who stood damn near silently behind the door.
“Jesus Man! You couldn’t have said anything?!”
The homeowner took a deep breath feeling his hands shake.
“You didn’t knock but I also didn’t want to alarm you.. seems I’ve done the opposite. We need to-“
The homeowner quickly cuts him off and shakes his head.
“How in the hell is silently standing behind the fucking door and not saying a god damn thing meant to ‘not alarm’ someone?”
He pushed his practically buzzed hair back and let out a sigh.
The man wearing the FEMA suit stared at him, giving him a few seconds to add more which only added to the tense feeling in the room.
He finally spoke again,
“You didn’t test the man in the closet.”
He stared up at the homeowner, he seemed very comfortable in this interaction; of course the homeowner wasn’t the best with interacting with people and generally got uncomfortable from most things but he had to assume this really was abnormal.
The homeowner also stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking.
“I know that…. That’s why I’m testing him but first I’d like to clean up some of his wounds, am I allowed to do that? Or do we need to talk.”
At the homeowner's tone the totally not ex-FEMA officer glanced off, finally showing some signs that the awkward tension in the room was getting to him.
“I mean yeah, he just is closest to the bathroom and I’d rather not be killed in my sleep. I already have to wake up for other people when they have to go to the bathroom. I’m on everyone else’s time and I’d rather not be killed by a visitor because I cannot, not answer the door.”
He seemed weirdly antagonistic towards the man in the closet and the homeowner couldn’t quite tell if it was truly because he had yet to be tested or if the man had a weird vendetta against him because he was foreign or some other reason.
The homeowner gave him one last look before he stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door fully behind him and walked to the closet once again and went inside.
“How’s the rag working for you? Do you need another one?”
He waited till Wireface looked over and motioned toward the rag in his hand to which he only got a thumbs up as the man continued to pick at the scabs through the rag pressed against them.
“You really shouldn’t mess with those but it’s your face, I brought you-“
He holds out the alcohol and watches the look of disappointment from Wireface.
“Zss gszg'h tlrmt gl yv evib fmkovzhzmg, gszmp blf ztzrm.”
(“Ahh that's going to be very unpleasant, thank you again.”)
He moved the rag from his lips giving the homeowner a grateful smile yet his eyes looked troubled.
“Yeah I know it’s going to fucking suck but at least you won’t get an infection.”
He paused then mimicked picking at his lips.
“Well as long as you actually leave your lips alone.”
He let out a forced chuckle, he was trying to come across as light hearted and playful to hopefully ease some of the man’s discomfort.
Wireface in return gave him this look of hurt like he’d just betrayed the man.
“Ziv blf nzprmt ufm lu nv? R dzh svow wldm zmw nb nlfgs dzh hvdm hsfg zmw blf'iv nlxprmt nv?”
(“Are you making fun of me? I was held down and my mouth was sewn shut and you're mocking me?”)
He traces his fingers over the scars on his lips and turns away, really egging it on.
Under the man’s initial intense gaze the Homeowner was immediately reaked over the mistranslation of his actions and comment. Clumsily he stepped back and started moving his hands, quickly and defensively in front of his chest.
“I didn’t mean to make you think I was making fun of you or anything- damn it I shouldn’t have tried to act that out! I..I was commenting on you picking on your scars! I wasn’t teasing, I mean in a way? but not about that and fuck- you don’t understand a think I’m saying!”
He frantically motions trying to emphasize the motion of picking on scars then points at Wireface’s scars and gives a thumbs up then cringes at his own thumbs up realizing that could easily be misinterpreted, it in fact would be hard to interpret correctly. He shook his head at the end letting out a frustrated sigh.
“That made no sense to you..”
As the man speaks and acts out in all sorts of ways Wireface’s expression went from hurt to surprise to amusement then finally he gave the Homeowner a teasing almost catty smile and let out an amused half snort half laugh well giving him a dismissive wave.
“Blf ziv hfikirhrmtob vzhb gl gvzhv, blf'iv urmv… zmw xfgv.”
(“You are surprisingly easy to tease, you're fine… and cute.”)
The Homeowner stared at him mid hand wave and slowly moved them down to his sides.
“Were you just?.. Were you messing with me?”
He stared at Wireface for a few minutes before letting out a breath and reaching for his Energy drink then proceeded to chug half of it; it wasn’t beer but he could at least pretend it was for a minute or two. Once he set it down he let out a second breath that seemed to deflate him a little bit but he was still visibly frazzled.
“Gszg dzh.. ufmmrvi rm nb svzw. R'n zohl tivzgufo blf xzm'g fmwvihgzmw nv li vohv gszg dlfow'ev yvvm uzi nliv zdpdziw..”
(“That was.. funnier in my head. I'm also grateful you can't understand me or else that would've been far more awkward..”)
Wireface gave him a nervous smile before dabbing the rag which was now dampened with alcohol against his skin, he let out a hiss of pain but continued dabbing each and every hole as he did so he felt the homeowners eyes on him concern still etched onto his face; worried that Wireface wasn't joking and still found the perceived slight offensive.
“Nzbyv blf szev hlnvgsrmt orpv elwpz? Xovzm nb dlfmwh uiln gsv rmhrwv zmw nzpv gsrh z orggov ovhh.. fmxlnuligzyov”
(“Maybe you have something like vodka? Clean my wounds from the inside and make this a little less.. uncomfortable.”
He gave an awkward chuckle at his own joke as he set the rag down and turned to see the Homeowner still staring at him. Of course the man didn’t respond to his second attempt at a joke other than a tilt of a head and an even guiltier looking expression.
"R fs…wl mlg pmld dszg vohv blf dzmg? R zn hliib uli nzprmt blf mvielfh"
(“I uh…do not know what else you want? I am sorry for making you nervous.")
He offers a smile and motions vaguely toward him hoping he'd pick up on the meaning.
"Dszg wl blf dzmg uiln nv?"
(“What do you want from me?")
The Homeowner’s previously guilty expression slowly morphed to confusion with a twinge of irritation which was not necessarily directed at Wireface. He let out a small huff of annoyance as he squinted at the man as if the look would help him understand his language.
“I wish I had a translator.. Hell I wish I knew where you were even from. I still don't know what you're saying…”
He let out a quiet huff before continuing.
“Look I need to check your teeth” He points at his own mouth and gives a slight smile then motions to Wireface.
“The bug eyed bastard in the bathroom is right, I should’ve tested you right away.”
Wireface mimics the first part of his motion and points at his own mouth tilting his head to the side.
“Dszg? Nb MOUF? Wi R mvvw gl SMYAL?” (“What? My mouth? Do I need to smile?”)
It was an open mouth smile but one a person would give for a photo not enough for the Homeowner to see much especially in the dark closet. He takes a step forward and opens his mouth and smiles wider than wireface then points at his own teeth.
“Blf szev z mrxv hnrov yfg R wl mlg pmld dszg gszg szh gl wl drgs nv? Wl blf dzmg gl hvv nb gvvgs?”
(“You have a nice smile but I do not know what that has to do with me? Do you want to see my teeth?”)
Wireface gives a wider smile showing off his yellowed and stained teeth along with his irritated gums.
“Dszg mld?”
(“What now?”)
The Homeowner took another step in and leaned in close to the point where his face was about a foot away from Wirefaces. His hand came up not quite touching his cheek but making the shape as if ready to cup it. As he closely examined the man’s teeth, Wireface twitched and his breathing picked up at the sudden closeness and the intense gaze.
The Homeowner nods to himself but instead of backing away his eyes drifted up scrutinizing Wireface’s eyes individually. After a second of some of the most extreme eye contact Wireface had ever experienced the Homeowner took a small step back and motioned for Wireface’s hands.
He was still somewhat shaken but lifted his hands for the homeowner to see, the homeowner's hands moved from ghosting over Wireface's cheek down to his hands, once again just almost touching him. Palms; ready to hold the body part he inspected.
After looking them over he nodded and motioned for Wireface to keep them there. He reached for the rag Wireface had put down; flipping it around to find a spot not covered in blood then pouring some alcohol on the spot.
He didn’t need to waste the alcohol but he needed something wet to wipe off the dried blood on the man’s hands and losing some alcohol was worth not having to go back to the kitchen or bathroom. He reached out and grabbed the man’s right hand and wiped some of the blood off his finger then handed him the rag.
He didn’t realize he was holding it but Wireface finally let out a breath as he watched the man completely change his focus, grabbing the hydrogen peroxide and starting to dampen the small stains of blood in the carpet with it. Wireface lifted his free hand to his cheek and mumbled.
“Gszg uvog.. fmmvxvhhzirob rmgvmhv..”
(“That felt.. unnecessarily intense..”)
He let out a very breathy almost laugh, a mix of shock and discomfort yet kept it quiet enough for the Homeowner not to ask about it.
Wireface turned to face the mirror and started to clean the blood off his hands every few seconds he’d glance over to watch the Homeowner as he grabbed a random piece of clothing, most likely a winter hat from the drawer behind him then he scrubbed at the ground. Once the homeowner seemed satisfied with the ground he stood up and grabbed the stitches Wireface had ripped out of his mouth with the hat and gave him a nod as he grabbed his energy drink and stepped out.
Wireface stared at the door letting out a second sigh that really seemed to get most of the tension in his body out.
“Dszg z hgizmtv nzm…”
(“What a strange man…”)
The Homeowner finished off the last sip of his drink and moved the can to the hand holding the other two things and crotched down to pet his new cat as he made his way to the kitchen.
The two men previously in here were now gone, seemingly back in the office so he hurried inside. Tossing the hat, stitches and can away then glanced at the stove.
Someone had prepared a dish for multiple people, some mix of mashed potatoes and what looked to be a canned meat stew added in. He scoped himself up a bowl and gave it a shake or two of salt then walked to his bedroom. He stopped at the door and patted his leg with his free hand and made a quiet clicking noise with his tongue and listened for the cat's legs to pitter patter over then closed the door after the cat had entered.
He hopped up onto the bed and used one hand to eat and patted the bed next to him with the other. Once the cat had jumped up he used his free hand to give it the occasional pet.
“It’s already getting dark.. "How long did I spend in the closet?”
He tilted his head and met the cat's gaze and let out a small content sigh.
“He had nice eyes.. is that weird to say? Does it matter? Suppose not in here…”
He leaned forward and kissed the cat's head to which it let out a languid meow and moved to the side staring intently at the bowl of food in the Homeowner's lap.
After finishing most of it he set the bowl on the ground and turned off his bedroom light and let himself relax. He eventually fell asleep to the sound of his dinner scraps being eaten up.