Chapter Text
“There’s a strange man in the sitting room.”
Mike Afton looked down at his six-year-old brother, annoyed. Much like the kitchen around him, he looked like a mess – his shirt was wrinkled and frayed, his hair disheveled, and his hands covered in fake cheese. His face, which was initially a scowl, softened as he observed his brother. Evan’s gray eyes were large and his voice squeaked as he spoke. He tugged on Mike's shirt, trying to get him to follow into the living room, though his hand was quickly swatted away. Mike sighed, and ran his hand through his long, greasy hair as he spoke, “Yes, it would be strange for Father to be home this early.”
Evan looked up at him, pouting. “No! This guy is a stranger. A weird one!”
“Again, not a nice thing to say about Father.”
The younger Afton’s cheeks got warmer and warmer. “You’re not listening! Come on Mikey, there’s a random man sitting in my chair! You have to come and see. What if he’s a killer? Or a hippie? Or Raskolnikov?”
“God, what is in this shit?” Mike stared at the empty box of Mac-and-Cheese that once held that night’s dinner. Its contents bubbled in the pot they now sat in, a concoction too oozing and too saturated to have possibly been made naturally. “I know they put chemicals in it, like enough to turn the freaking frogs gay – but seeing things? This is insane. You’re insane.”
Evan’s face, now thoroughly red, twisted as tears welled up in his grey eyes. Tears started to fall down his long face, fat and fast enough to fill a room within an hour, much like Alice in Wonderland. He cried, “Why won’t you believe me?”
Mike tensed but quickly forced himself back into a relaxed slouch. The last thing he needed was for Evan to know that he cared. What did he look like, someone who knew how to have healthy relationships? “Look, I know you'd expect our house to be broken into. We’re very rob-able because of who our father is. I’d rob Father too, and not just because he’s loaded -- think about how funny it would be if his favorite wrench got stolen. It’d be great. But if someone broke in, don’t you think we would’ve heard them? These kinds of things aren’t usually quiet. So it’s okay, it’s okay.”
The tears slowed, a little. Quietly, Evan whispered, “I’m not lying, though.”
“But did you hear anything?”
“I suppose not.”
“So he can’t be a robber. And if he’s not a robber, then what is he? A lunatic that breaks into people’s houses just to take a nap? Actually, I think Jeremy read a story in the paper about that," Mike hummed. "Though the guy was a Florida ‘Man’ and everyone knows they don’t count as humans. No human could ever create the meth gator, accidentally or not. Still can’t believe that thing hitchhiked all the way to Utah.” The Afton boys both shivered at the memory of finding a high alligator, which was un-lovingly named Monty, roaming around the town square. It took forever for the police to catch the thing. It might’ve been due to the fear that comes with an invasive animal walking into the bus station like it owned the place – especially one with powerful jaws and an unnatural stumble to its step. It certainly had an effect on people. Evan had never seen so many grown adults climb trees before that day. Even Father could be found in one – though this was not something anyone was allowed to discuss, however extraordinary the memory was. There was something joyous to be found in the eldest Afton dressed in tailored purple clothes, face as serious as ever, hanging from a thin branch eight feet off of the ground.
Mike shook his head as if it would shoo the heretical thought away. “Anyway, the point is, I bet you five dollars when you go back the chair is going to be empty. Ten bucks if the man's not gone but you can’t wake him up because you’re having hallucinations from sleep deprivation.”
“It sounds like the last one happened to you, Mikey.”
“I have no idea how you reached that conclusion,” Mike said, ignoring the eye bags dark enough to make the night look like day.
“Aren’t you poor from spending all your allowance on going to the movies with Jeremy? I bet you don't even have two dollars, which I do.”
“It's called finding yourself a loan shark. A bunch of kids my age want to be 'big businessmen', but they have no idea how interest works – which I didn’t either until recently, but that’s not the point. I’d only have to deal with that if I was broke. And I’m not.”
Evan smiled wide and childishly. He puffed out his chest and leaned in, in his best impression of his brother. His voice even deepened. “Right then, show me your wallet. Unless you’re too chicken…”
Mikey glared at him. “I’m the only person in this house allowed to call people chicken. Leave, or else I’ll burn your dinner.”
“You wouldn’t,” Evan exclaimed, his voice returning to normal. His wide eyes got wider, knowing full well Mike would and it probably wouldn't even be on purpose. “What about Lizzie?”
“Firstly, Lizzie is going to be too groggy from her post-sleepover nap to add two and two together, let alone realize something is off. Second, I think I’ve already destroyed her taste buds with my first and last attempt at making Swedish meatballs. She won’t even notice.” Ah yes, the Meatball Incident. The Bites of ‘82. The final death of God. There was a reason Mike often stuck to store-bought meals, usually macaroni and cheese, and that reason his cooking was so bad that it could give rats food poisoning. And it has. Multiple times. So Mike tried to actually cook every other night, making box meals in between, so he’d be able to give his siblings a break while he slowly improved. And while he was improving, the best meal he’s made was about as good as how stable the best spring-lock was – those were OSHA violations just waiting to be cited if you asked Evan.
Evan made a point to stick his tongue out, which was a very Lizzie-like thing to do, before immediately feeling bad about it and apologizing. Mike just rolled his eyes and waved the young boy away. Evan paused, took a deep breath, and prepared to fix his next issue. Alone. His breath hitched at the thought, but it was too late – he was committed. He crept out of the kitchen towards the sitting room, which wasn’t a far walk at all seeing as the two rooms were adjacent to each other. He almost jumped when he saw the strange man still sleeping there, but he swallowed his fears down and got closer.
As he approached, Evan noticed just how sickly the man looked. He had bandages covering a good chunk of his body. The most noticeable ones were on his neck, nose, and left cheek. His eyes seemed to be sunken into his skull, and his skin was sickly and pasty, lacking any warmth. In fact, it had a blueish, almost purple undertone to it, as he had either been badly bruised or had the life sucked out of him. It also had a weird texture to it, like layers of makeup were piled on top of each other. Evan felt bad for the man. Maybe he was so sick that he didn’t realize he walked into the wrong house? Evan had never gotten delusional with a fever before, but he was fairly sure that it was possible. If he racked his brain hard enough, he might’ve even been able to remember his and his sibling’s friend, Charlie, in that state. In this case, obviously the best thing to do was to wake the poor guy up and send him on his way. He finally worked himself up enough to get even closer to the stranger when he heard muttering.
“I’m sorry, Evan, I didn’t -- my fault -- it’s you.” Evan stopped dead in his tracks. The man’s voice was smooth, and yet, there was a certain… wrongness to it, though Evan couldn’t pin down what it was. Perhaps it was the evident pain in it. The man twitched in his sleep and was probably having nightmares, which was definitely not fun, but Evan was more concerned about how this stranger knew his name. It was just a coincidence, right? That or this really was one big hallucination and Evan needed to be sent to the ward, as Father would say.
“Excuse me, sir, are you okay?” Evan asked as he gently tapped the man’s shoulder. The man shot up in response, desperately looking around as if afraid that something was going to come to get him. At his full height, he towered over the young boy, even more than Father did. He stopped suddenly when he saw Evan, looking the boy dead in the eye. For what felt like an eternity, he stood still, staring through Evan. And then he laughed, and it was a terrifying sound. It was short and frantic, reminding Evan of those crazy killers in Mikey’s movies. Good Eastwood, maybe he really was a lunatic who broke into houses to steal chairs!
The man quieted and returned to his muttering. "This must be it. This rotten body finally gave up on me and I’m in my own personal Hell. You must be a figment of my imagination made to torture me by using my own traumas against me! I’d say it’s clever, but that’s literally been the last few decades of my life. Someone clearly needs to take more evil lessons because I am underwhelmed .” He looked back at Evan, his eyes irritated and intense. “So what are you going to do? Bite my head off? Go on, then.”
Evan’s chest tightened, “Sir?”
“Unless this is all a hallucination…? You’re quite different from the others. I’m surprised, actually, this hasn’t happened before. It’d be about my luck.”
“I’m not a hallucination. Mikey said you were,” Evan weakly protested.
The man’s brows furrowed at that, and his chapped lips twitched at the mention of the teen. Evan, who was already afraid and frustrated, found himself shaking. His face hadn’t even dried yet, but he once again found himself crying. “You chair-stealing maniac! All I want to do is watch my telly; which I never get to do because everyone pushes me away because I’m an easy, no-bone target. And then, when it’s finally free, you steal it! You steal my chair and you stare at me and I call me a hallucination! Which you are, not me!”
A look of sheer panic spread across the man’s face. He took a tentative step forward and reached out to the boy, which Evan recoiled from. The man frowned and paused for a moment, allowing the shock to melt away from his face and be replaced by a softness and hurt to his expression. He crouched down to Evan’s level, clearly trying to figure out how to comfort the crying boy. Softly, he started humming a familiar tune.
Evan’s crying turned to dull sniffles in his confusion. “H-how did you know--”
“--Who in the bloody hell is singing ‘I Like Bananas (Because They Have No Bones)’ in my territory? I’ve beaten the shit outta anyone before who tried to steal it from me and I’ll do it again.” Mike yelled, running in from the kitchen. “Holy shit there’s a man in the sitting room.”
Both Evan and the man looked up. The boy didn’t fail to notice how startled the man appeared to be, or what could easily be mistaken for apparent anger – mistaken, of course, because why would a stranger hate his brother? Evan took the opportunity to run over to Mike, hiding behind him like a shield. “So now you believe me?”
“To be fair you sounded insane,” Mike shrugged, though he kept his eyes on the man, who seemed to refocus back on Evan.
“I didn’t! And how come you didn’t hear anything else? Like the voice of a complete stranger?”
“The ultimate way to survive Lizzie’s rambles: selective hearing. I only hear things of utmost importance – like someone trying to sing my song in my territory – and ignore things of un-importance. It’s a very convenient skill to have. You should try it sometime.” So the crazy laughs of a stranger in our house aren’t important, Evan wondered, sourly.
The man flicked his gaze down at Mike, then away. “Hm, perhaps this isn’t Hell. Or a hallucination. But then, I wonder, what?” The man almost seemed disappointed to not be in Hell, and Evan didn’t know if it was the most or least concerning thing about the whole ordeal.
“How in the name of our Lord and Savior, Clint Eastwood, is this possibly a hallucination? I mean-- you’re in our living room!”
The man looked around the room, finally, eyes slowly widening with realization. Almost inaudibly, the man mumbled, “This isn’t where I went to relax this morning. Or when.” He looked at Evan, who still found himself anxious by his intensity. “What is the date? The full one, I mean. Year and all.”
Mike answered for him, “Uhh.. May Fourth, 1982? I don’t know how you could forget it, seeing as it’s the most important day of the year.”
“Star Wars Day, of course.”
“I see you’re a man of culture as well.” Mike walked over to the man (leaving Evan exposed, which he did not appreciate) and stuck his hand out. The man looked at it like it killed his family, but slowly reached out and shook it. They must’ve been painfully cold, as Evan noticed Mike jump at their touch. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Mister…?”
“...Eggs. Eggs Benedict.” The man said, after a second of uncomfortable hesitation. Even then, he winced at his own name. Not that Evan would blame him. It was a rather unfortunate one.
“What a weird name. You get a pass though since the only other cultured person in this deadbeat town is Jeremy and he’s not cool enough to randomly appear in my living room.”
“Mikey, are you really giving this random man a pass for showing up in our living room? I mean, what if he’s one of those children-lovers that Father always warns us about? I’m too weak to be locked away in a van only to be never seen again. I’d die from a heart attack!"
“Eggs here seems like a nice guy though. I mean, did he offer you any candy or ask you about a lost puppy?” Evan shook his head. “So that means it’s probably fine, right? Anyone who likes Star Wars in this shitty town is already better than most.”
“The lack of awareness for stranger danger here is how kids get murdered and stuffed into animatronics,” Eggs said with a concerning amount of seriousness. “I mean, I’m not a kiddie-strangler but you guys should really be more careful.”
“So you want me to call the cops?”
“Of course not! At least not for me. Anyone else you should call the cops on – though they’re probably too busy doing nothing. ” In stark contrast to just a moment ago, Evan noticed that Eggs was avoiding looking at either of them now – especially Mike. The man would occasionally glance over at the younger boy, and one would think Eggs was under the impression he’d just phase out of existence. But he was noticeably calmer now. Uneasy, perhaps, but his stance was significantly less tense and his tone of voice had stabilized. Unlike his brother, Evan still decided it was best to keep his distance, for now at least.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I mean it. Whether or not you care, there are dangerous things out there,” Eggs said snappily.
Mike either didn’t recognize the harsh tone of voice or didn’t care. Evan recognized either way was more than possible when it came to his brother. But the teen just shrugged, “Weird day. Can’t believe I have a guy breaking into my house and telling me about safety.”
“Trust me, this is just as weird for me as it is for you.” Eggs sighed. “I was just going to, uh, ‘sleep’ for the day on my recliner, like normal, and when I woke up I was here. And as you can see, this isn’t exactly my house.”
“So you didn’t break in to steal my chair,” Evan asked tentatively,
“I know it sounds insane, but no. I just woke up here,” the man said, the sharpness in his demeanor melting away.
“So you have no idea how you got here?”
“None at all.”
“You know, you’re strangely calm about all this. I’d be freaking out way more if this were me,” Mike said.
“Trust me, this is only ranked second on my ‘top ten craziest events’ list.” Eggs said nonchalantly. Mike and Evan both looked at each other, deciding they were too scared to ask what the craziest thing was.
Suddenly, Mike lit up, apparently having thought of something. “So if you have no idea how you got here, or where you are, then how are you going to get home?”
“Why do you care?” Eggs started to roll his eyes but seemed to catch himself. His shoulders sagged as if he was a little sorry about it. “For your information, I do know where I am, I think. But you did bring up a good question, and the answer is I have no idea.”
“You know, if you have nowhere else to go you could stay with us. It’s not like our father is home enough to care.”
“Wow, when you hear it come out of someone else’s mouth it really is depressing," Eggs half mumbled. "But there’s a shady hotel at the edge of town that has rooms for dirt cheap, and as long as I have my wallet -- which it looks like I do, thank Eastwood -- I should be able to stay there until I can rent an apartment from the even shadier complex.” Eggs looked at Evan and gave a toothy smile, and he couldn’t help but notice how familiar it was. There was a sad glint in his eyes as he spoke as, “Thank you, for the offer. And for the chair too.”
Eggs gathered up his stuff and got ready to leave. This was a very quick process, seeing as all he had was what he wore on his body (which was a simple outfit that consisted of just sweatpants, a hoodie, and a black beanie) and a mask in the shape of a white bear next to him. He waved goodbye and turned to leave when Evan worked up the courage and grabbed onto his hand. Just like he thought, it was cold. Like a vampire from Mike’s show. The boy, driven by blind curiosity, asked, “Are we ever going to see you again, chair-man?”
Eggs raised his hand and hovered it above Evan’s head of neat, dark hair like he was going to tussle it. He must’ve changed his mind, though, as he allowed it to lamely fall by his side again. “I think I’m going to be in this area for a good while. So I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw you around.” With that he was gone, leaving the Afton boys alone to process the fever dream that was the last ten minutes.
After a moment of silence, Evan asked, “Should we tell Lizzie about this?”
“Is Father a positive influence on our lives?”
“... Good point.”