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Loving him was the easiest thing, according to you.
You'd said that when you were at the altar, exchanging vows, as his eyes were filled with tears (he had denied when asked later), as your hands held his and his yours.
His eyes reminded you of Mars, irises looking like the dunes of a desert lit by sunset, which fit with his love for astronomy.
His hands were big, gentle, soft, but also a bit calloused, playing piano in his youth and working retail as an adult left its sign.
He had always been a terrible dancer, which was pretty evident when you did your first dance as a wed couple, but you had laughed it off nonetheless, too busy enjoying being close to your husband to mind the fact that he almost tripped thrice not even a minute in.
You had bought a quaint little house together a year before your marriage, working hard to save enough money for what you had eagerly defined "the dream house™".
It was close enough to the city to walk there without problems, well connected, but also far enough for it to be quiet, for it to be immersed in the most beautiful night sky.
You had admitted later that you had insisted to buy that specific one just because of its garden, big enough to place a telescope and look at the stars together.
Many wonderful evenings were spent laying on blankets, hugging his plush body as he pointed up and told you endless stories about the stars.
As time went on, the house became more of a home.
You had built a small greenhouse around the backdoor, fixed the fence together, scrapped the wallpaper and painted every room differently.
It was your little jewel, the utmost materialisation of your relationship.
The guests could see the blend of its owners’ personalities, which complimented each other perfectly and shone in every corner.
You’d both laugh when hearing that and say that what made it home was being together.
That’s why you didn’t feel at home anymore.
In hindsight, the greenhouse was a great idea.
The Sun, for some reason, had made the plants grow way faster than usual, with their fruits popping out every few days.
Your guests, or refugees, were always fed.
The quaint little house on the hill was faring well, less affected by the cataclysm than many others.
Its owner, though, felt shattered.
You missed your husband.
He was coming home from work when everything happened.
He had phoned you as he was in his car, speeding home from the store he worked at.
It was the last time you heard from him.
More than two weeks had passed, and even if you still harboured a sliver of hope, you knew he was most likely dead or worse, turned into a visitor.
You had spent three days crying, barely getting out of bed, clutching your shaking body and trying to pretend it was him, but your hands were much smaller than his, your body less warm and his smell was already vanishing from the blankets.
So many horrible thoughts had swarmed in your mind, about his death, about the apocalypse, about, perhaps, joining him.
You were on the edge of the abyss, and you would’ve jumped if it wasn’t for that dream you had the night before you had decided to join your soulmate in death.
He had shaken you, yelling at you to survive, for goodness sake, to live and be strong, that you were much more than just his spouse, and that even if he wasn’t at your side anymore, he wanted you to see as many sunrises as possible.
It shook you.
It was difficult at first, letting people in your safe haven, caring for others when you were barely managing to take care of yourself, but in the end you took a deep breath, grit your teeth and turned your rage in determination.
You put all your husband’s pictures in your room, to keep him close to you, and woke up everyday to see small slivers of rainbow light shining on the floor. The curtains stayed closed until night, but the rainbow glass wrap you two had put on the window always greeted you with the most beautiful light show, as if trying to be a suitable substitute for the sunrises you promised your husband to see.
Your rings stayed on, even when working in the greenhouse, even if they made the gloves uncomfortable to wear, because you’d rot in Hell before ever taking them off.
When alone, you’d trace the engravings on their bands.
The engagement ring he had worked his ass off to get bore “To the brightest star”, whilst the wedding band recited “Even beyond Death”.
You wondered if he still had his ring, wherever he was.
You had the coordinates to your home engraved on it.
A very bright star always shone upon your roof, no matter the season, a welcome constant in your scenery, and so you two had started to associate it with your house, which is why you decided to get those coordinates engraved on his wedding band.
A small part of you hoped he’d follow them.
One of your guests had become your friend, if you could call her such.
Jena had asked you for a small spot where she could rest and mourn her husband in private, how could you, of all people, deny her that?
You had shared your story with her, as she had mentioned seeing one lone picture on your kitchen wall, before you had hauled all your husband’s pictures in your room, where a man in a white sweater was hugging you in a group photo.
As the corpse of her husband laid in the bathtub behind you, you’d shown each other pictures.
No need for bland and usual “He’s now in a better place” “I’m sure he’s thinking about you” and all of that. You just hung out in silence, both there for the other if needed, both a welcome relief from the burden of loss and having to mask the pain.
One night, you heard someone banging on your door.
You rose to your feet as quickly as you could and went to the peephole to see who it was.
The visitor in front of your door was a peculiar one.
His torso was too big, the rest of his body so lanky and thin, and the skin looked like it hadn’t had time to adjust to the growth spurt.
“Howdy!” He politely greeted you.
what?
The voice was…No, it couldn’t be.
Your rings shone innocently on your finger.
No, it had to be a joke, a cruel joke of the universe.
“I know you’re in there…do you want me to come and check myself?”
He said the exact same thing every time you’d prank him by hiding under the bed.
You couldn’t…No, you had to be strong and face him.
“Sorry, I was…lost in thought, forgive me. How can I help you?”
He gave you a smile and clasped his hands together.
“Fantastic house you’ve got, it’s cozy and spacious, I like it.”
You unconsciously traced the wedding band with your fingers.
“I’m very proud of it, thank you.”
"Hold on to this little house while you can, little homeowner...who knows what will happen in a matter of days...speaking of which, are you alone?"
You sighed.
"No, I'm not alone."
His smile dropped, forming a well too familiar frown. You couldn't deny the truth anymore.
"You're lucky tonight, I can hear people whispering inside. Companions are useful, but who knows how things will end? Have a nice stay."
"Goodnight."
Your husband turned around and left your porch, whilst you blinked and sat on the floor.
Your legs trembled and you'd suddenly gone numb, you couldn't even think.
His death was something you'd been trying to process, but seeing him, on your porch, acting like a harbinger of death and violence and decay wasn't something you were mentally ready for.
Vasilij, your sweet, annoying, uncannily smart Vasilij had turned into what would likely be your killer.
Leaning onto the wall you sighed.
You wished you had something like alcohol or a cigarette to drown the pain with.
You awoke the next morning with a lump in your throat, as your mind had finally processed everything that happened the day before.
Body heavy, chest tight, you just wanted to lay in bed, in silence. What could you do?
You painfully registered the weight of the rings on your finger, but didn't dare to glance at them or touch them as your heart couldn't take a drop more of shock.
Staring at the ceiling, you took in the fake, albeit well done, sunrise you two had painted a year prior.
"I pity you, you poor poor dwarf, needing a ladder to reach the ceiling when I, a superior brand of human indeed, can without any aid."
"Careful Vasilij...remember who's got a whole bucket of paint at grabbing distance..."
He smirked down at you, devilish expression adorning his face as you saw his hand quickly grab a paintbrush and flicker orange paint on you.
Thoroughly offended, you dipped the painting roll in the baby blue bucket and rolled it over whatever body part you could reach.
You hadn't progressed much that first day.
You could still taste the paint on your tongue when you decided to kiss it better as an apology, while he laughed so hard tears spilled from his eyes.
Better times, as past always seemed.
You struggled to afford high-end things, your jobs worked you out, but you always came home to him and him to you, ready to dine and just bask in each other's presence until it was time to sleep.
God, you really missed him.
Getting up, you opened the closet to get some clothes and your eyes fell on his.
Perhaps you could've...but no, you just...couldn't risk losing even the faintest trace of his scent, mixed with that cologne of his.
You could always use that, as a middle ground.
The day went by slowly, the only comfort in the agonizing heat was the smell of your husband's cologne and sitting in the bathroom with Jena, the cool tiles fighting tooth and nail against the Sun's cruel radiations to keep their heavenly temperature.
"So, the Pale Maniac on the news is your husband."
You slumped a bit against the bathtub.
"Yes."
"Do you think he remembers anything?"
"I don't really think so...he didn't say anything nor had any reaction to my voice...I don't know how to feel about this." You stared into her eyes. "I don't know if it's worse him being dead or him being turned into that, having to stare into the eyes of someone who, if given the chance, would now murder me and everyone else in this house."
Jena wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you put your head on her shoulder and sighed. You felt on the edge of the world, toeing the line between past and future, normalcy and madness, the weight of the world on your poor, trembling shoulders.
Everything went by slowly, mechanically.
You saw him standing in the garden almost every evening, sometimes looking up at the sky, with that familiar tilt of his head as his eyes likely traced the lines between the stars, perhaps trying to figure out what time it was.
Sometimes he just stared at you.
Your gaze never faltered, you accepted the challenge with grace, even if every second spent starting at his deformed figure made your chest tighten more and more with pain and longing.
He came back at your door.
"We meet again. Change is surrounding your house I see, its signs evident."
"You've noticed the paint chipping, I suppose."
He smiled at you, and you swore it was slightly less menacing and more of a genuine one, but perhaps it was just your mind tricking itself.
"Oh yes, that too. It's a shame isn't it? The mushroom pattern is now barely noticeable, but I recall it being fairly pretty when it was still visible a few days ago."
"Ah yes, it was the result of blood, sweat and tears. Me and my husband spent an entire day just painting the left side of the fence. I'm afraid I'll have to go through all that again once this apocalypse ends."
His smile froze for a moment at the mention of "your husband", but he quickly covered it up with an uncanny grin, wider than ever.
"Still thinking this is just a passing storm? You haven't yet realised that dogs rule the world now. Only dogs will remain in the end."
You were sure he could see you from behind the peephole, so you held your chin high and crossed your arms.
"We'll see about that, you never know what might happen, this whole ordeal was a surprise in itself."
You stared at each other, both wearing the same polite smile, hands clasped in front of yourselves.
"Very well then. Before I go...are you alone?"
"Nope, not yet." You said popping the 'p'.
You saw him grin and tilt his head a bit.
"Until next time, then."
You saw him in your garden for the following nights, always by the window of the room you were currently staying in.
You saw what he did to the FEMA soldiers who came close to your property, especially to those who actually dared to bother you by knocking and taking away your guests, they were the ones who suffered the most.
It was almost charming how he always managed to avoid staining your fence with the results of his hunts, and how he seemingly cleaned himself up before crossing your fence.
"Uh, that pale freak has a crush on you or something?" The red haired teenager asked you. "He's like, always by the windows, and when he checked this room twenty minutes ago he got real scary when he didn't see you."
"Oh, uhm, what does 'he got real scary' mean?"
"Y'know, he went from that creepy ass smile of his to a creepy ass frown after he scanned the room, I thought he'd open the window and come inside."
"Oh. That's concerning."
"Yeah, I'd say you should avoid the rooms without windows, because I don't know what he'd do if he doesn't see you for too long."
"I suppose so..."
You heard someone banging on the door.
Shooting the girl a look, you rushed to the doorway, closing the kitchen door.
You unconsciously fiddled with the rings on your finger as you looked through the peephole.
He looked out of breath.
"Hel-"
"It's you, isn't it?" He inquired, clearly agitated.
"What do you mean?"
He moved quickly to get something and then brought that thing close to the peephole.
His ring.
Even with the faint moonlight, you could make out the numbers engraved on the inside of the band.
"The coordinates, they refer to this house.
You're my...my...we're..." He clutched his head with one of his hands, thoughts clearly hurting him. You decided to give him grace and finish the sentence for him.
"We're married, at least, before you-"
"NO!" His expression was anxious, as if something important was about to flee, his skin losing its unnatural folds for a brief moment. "We're still-" He truly looked like his human self. "We can still!" His head dropped like he was being pushed down by an invisible force.
You couldn't bear to see him suffer like that, uncaring of the eventual consequences you slammed the door open and went straight to him, enveloping his shaking body with your warm one.
"Vasilij...please...I'm here now, I'm not going anywhere dear..."
He clutched your body like a lifeline as you breathed in his scent for the first time in what felt like ages. Death couldn't change that.
"That's my cologne..." He whispered. Raising his head to meet your gaze he dared to say "Missed me?"
You stared at him with a deadpan expression before you started hitting him with playful (albeit filled with hurt) slaps.
"You disappear for a month" SLAP "Stalk me and scare me to death" SLAP "While I have to pretend I don't want to crumble everytime I see you" SLAP "And this is what you say the second you remember me?" SLAP
He laughed as he took your wrists in his hands and placed a kiss on each of your palms.
He kissed the back of your hands before he took them in his and stared at you adoringly, with the same eyes you fell in love with.
"I'm terribly sorry dear" He began. "The fog clouded my head, I just couldn't...stray from Her orders, even if my heart clenched for reasons then unknown each time I caught a glimpse of you from the windows." He looked aside and smiled to himself.
"What's so funny huh?"
"You know, darling, we now have the ultimate confirmation of my vows to you." You both instinctually glanced at the wedding band innocently sitting on your finger.
Even beyond Death.
"Yes, dear, even beyond Death."