Chapter Text
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
It’s the second time he’s heard this sound since he came inside the house.
The first was last night- the owner of the house had just let him in, and he'd decided to stay in the bathroom. From inside, he could hear the muffled sounds of someone else knocking on the front door, followed by talking. He had let in whoever it was, because after the door was shut, the amount of footsteps were clearly doubled.
Anyways, it’s been a day since then. He’d had a conversation with the homeowner today- he seemed pretty chill, though he didn’t talk a whole lot. And the look on his face was ruining the vibe a bit. But other than that, the man was still grateful that he had a safe space to reside in.
There was some commotion going on outside that started after the knocks, involving a lot of movement and tense voices. Whatever the situation was, he honestly didn't care, and would rather not get involved.
“Well, I think now is a perfect time for this..”
He takes out a joint from his pocket and takes a hit. He does an exaggerated exhale, leaning back further where he sat- on the washing machine.
“Haha, who the hell even has a washing machine in their bathroom?”
-
The stoner had got up pretty early the next morning- the spot he chose to sleep was unfortunately directly in the path of bright sunlight that leaked through the bathroom window, waking him up almost immediately.
“Mannn, is the sun usually this bright? Just what is going on anyway? Last time I woke up in a bathroom, it was at that banger party… wish I was at a party right now mannn, everyone has been a total buzzkill lately!”
Just then there was a knock at the door. The homeowner came in with the same look on his face as yesterday, maybe even more troubled-looking.
“Do you always talk to yourself?” the homeowner asked, with a judgemental tone.
“Look mann, it ain’t my fault no one else is fun to talk to right now.”
“Anyways, what did you do for work before all this?”
“Work? Pffft! Only suckers work, dude. I was out there LIVING, you get me?”
They talked a bit more- the stoner had told him about being a warehouse worker at some point since his parents forced him. But other than that, the stoner had valued having fun more than the average person. He wished more people shared his point of view, You only live once right? So why waste it on things you don’t enjoy?
-
It was later in the day, and the boredom was really starting to get to him. He opened the bathroom door, letting himself be exposed to the rest of the house. He isn’t a psychic or anything, but he could tell the whole mood of the house was off. He hated it. He shoved those thoughts away, and began his stroll to the other rooms. There were four ambiguous looking doors, and one that was clearly some sort of storage closet. He also noticed a calendar on the wall between two of the doors, which read: “Cashier’s Day,” with a big number six below it.
“Alright..” He turned the corner and decided on the door on the left. He opened it, and there was an absurdly tall man with a sour expression seated on the far left of a couch facing the door from the other end of the room.
“Oh hey, what’s up man. Just exploring the house, I hope I’m not bothering you or anything.”
The tall man broke his staring contest with the wall and glanced over. “...No, it’s alright. I haven’t seen you around. When did you get here?”
“Last night… no wait, the night before that. Sorry, haha. Past few days have been a blur, y’know?”
“Sure.”
“Say… this room got a couch in it, but like, where’s the TV? It’s like common sense to have those in the same room. Does this guy even have any movies or anything?”
“Is that really what you're concerned about? The world’s going to shit, my man, but you don’t seem too worried about it.”
“Hey, lighten up, dude. Is that attitude really gonna help anything anyways?” The stoner reaches into his pocket. “Here, do you want a hit? I promise you will feel better.” The tall man looks like he’s actually considering it for a split second then shakes his head.
“I’m more of a drinker, but thanks anyways, I guess.”
“Whatever you say man. I’ll leave you alone now and check out some other rooms. T’s been cool.”
The tall man gives the stoner a look that’s hard to decipher. “Stay safe out there. Perhaps you’re better off than me for having such a lighthearted attitude- just don’t let yourself get too distracted.”
“You got it. Peace.”
…
I kinda got the munchies…let’s see if this guy has some good food laying around.
He tries the door on the right across the hall, and thankfully, he finds the kitchen on the other end. “Score!- Oh..” His celebration is cut short when he sees a little girl crying in the middle of the room, being comforted by another girl who is older but still obviously in her teens.
“It’s going to be okay… I’m right here, okay?”
She glances over and gives a little nod. “Hey.”
“Hey. Uhhhh, just getting some food. I’ll be quick.”
“Yup all good. There’s some soup in this cabinet, and uhh- oh yeah this one right here has snacks. Fridge barely has anything.”
He walks over awkwardly, opening the snack cabinet and grabbing some potato chips. He thanks the girl and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him. He can still hear the little girl crying and the hushed voice of the teenager.
Damn. Wonder what happened. Alright well, last stop is going to be the storage room. I don’t even want to see who’s in the other room, I've had enough doom and gloom for today. Hopefully the storage room has some movies, or I’ll even take a comic book at this point.
The stoner makes his way over and opens the door. He gets slightly jump-scared when he sees a man in there. He looks pretty young, but the bags under his eyes seem to indicate he’s been through more than he should at his age. He looks startled when the door is opened, and he’s holding his mouth in an awkward manner.
“Oh sorry dude! Didn’t know there’d be someone in here.”
The man takes his hand away from his mouth to reveal wounds that circle his lips- they appear to have been from stitches perhaps? “Hliib, R wlm'g fmwvihgzmw blf. R wlm'g hkvzp blfi ozmtfztv.”
“What? Uh, what language is that? Definitely not Russian. Uhhh…” The stoner looks around like a lost cow for a second, then points back and forth from his mouth to the other man’s while speaking slowly as if it would help his point get across. “Is. Your. Mouth. Okay?” He also makes a thumbs up then makes a questioning motion with his hands, hoping it will help.
“Blfi zhprmt ru nb nlfgs rh lpzb? Gsviv'h mlgsrmt blf xzm wl zylfg rg. Rg'h urmv, R tfvhh.” The foreign man flattens his hand and rocks it back and forth, making the universal sign for “it’s okay, but also not really.”
Suddenly they both hear the door behind them creak, and the homeowner is standing there, holding what looks like cotton pads and antiseptic. “Okay I've got some- huh? What are you doing in here?”
“Oh, what’sup dude. I was looking to see if you had any movies or comics or anything. It’s getting pretty boring, you hear me?”
The homeowner rolls his eyes. “You're really annoying, you know that? I don’t have any movies. Comics? There might be some in here…sorry, excuse me-” He creeps past the stoner and passes the man with stitch marks, softly putting his hand on the man’s shoulder for a second as he finally reaches his intended destination near the back of the closet. He reaches up and grabs a white box near the top of the shelf, bringing it down and briefly checking its contents for confirmation before handing it over to the stoner. “Here. You can just keep them. I got them from a family friend a while back, but they just aren’t really my thing.”
“Sweet! Thanks man. Well then, I’ll leave you two to it. Catch ya later.” He leaves and hears the door shut behind him. I guess it’s time to head back to the bathroom.
He spends the rest of the day reading random comic books. At some point, he swears he hears a gunshot echo from across the house, but he decides to block it from his mind.