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Angus laid down on his couch, a feeling of boredom enveloping him. There was absolutely nothing interesting happening today, especially not on TV, which just listed a bunch of doppelgänger attacks, as usual. He acknowledged in the back of his head that lately, it’d been more than usual, but with how common a doppelgänger attack already was, he was rather numb to the news. He’d felt himself beginning to doze off, before a knock on his apartment door woke him up.
He shot up off his couch, a bewildered look on his face. Confusion and curiosity filled his thoughts as he walked over to his door, looking through the peep hole.
“Mm, it’s me, Angus.” His friend, Francis stated, his usual tone as tired as ever. “Can I come in? ‘M tired…” Angus felt his cheeks heat up, blush dusting his face. He loved hanging out with Francis, and the milkman had just about never outright asked him if they could hang out before. The businessman hummed happily, swinging the door open for his shorter friend. He flashed a joyous grin, his smile so big that it caused his eyes to squint a little.
“The moody milkman? Coming to hang out with lil’ ol’ me? I’m flattered, Christmas must have come early!” Angus chuckled, standing out of the way so that Francis could come in. Francis said nothing as he walked inside, just possessing a slight smirk. “Sorry the place isn’t the best, I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Not that I mind having ya around, I haven’t seen ya in a while man!” Angus shut and locked the door behind him, quickly wrapping his arm around the insomniac.
Francis shook his head slowly, Angus had always noticed he did everything with a sluggish demeanor, he found it endearing.
“It’s no problem, Angus. ‘M just a little tired.
And hungry.” Francis admitted, his lidded eyes meeting Angus’ excited ones. A sense of worry filled the taller man’s body, his concern of written all over his face. “Francis! Did you forget to eat again! I told you- no, y’know what, just sit on the couch and watch whatever you want on the television, I’m getting you something to eat.” Angus insisted, pushing Francis to his couch.
“Ah, Angus, you really don’t have to…” The milkman insisted, though his tone betrayed him with how clearly pleased he was. Angus couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the fact. He could usually tell that Francis felt guilty with how much Angus would take care of him, despite the businessman assuring him countless times that he didn’t mind it at all. If anything, he enjoyed it.
There’d been more times than the man could count where he’d invited Francis to his apartment, only for the milkman to pass out on his couch from exhaustion. Angus never minded, though, he only covered the other man with one of his blankets and let him sleep, only to be drowned in apologies when Francis woke up. He imagined this time would be no different, not that he minded this little routine.
“No! I insist, really. So sit down while I get something!” Angus stated, his mood lifting when Francis sat down, a soft smile on his face. Angus speed walked to the kitchen, swinging the refrigerator door open as he looked for anything to eat.
“Beef stroganoff? No, he doesn’t like that, I remember…Meatloaf?…No, I’ve had that in here for too long. I really need to throw it away.” Angus thought aloud, looking through his fridge. The man scanned his fridge, being mostly made up of leftovers and stray ingredients. He loved to cook, really, he just tended to overestimate how much he could eat in one night, leading to bigger portions than necessary for one person.
“Ah! Salisbury steak! He loves that…” The businessman scooped the food out of the fridge, a satisfied grin on his face. He was about to close the refrigerator door, before feeling hands on his shoulders.
The man flinched, though after the quick initial shock, he knew it was Francis. Who else would it be?
“Geez Francis, warn a guy y’know! Good one though, you’re supposed to say boo, though.” Angus looked over his shoulder, Francis’ hat obscuring his expression. Angus felt a slight sense of unease at his silence, the fact he couldn’t see his face worsening that feeling.
“Alright, you can let go of me now, haha…” Angus chuckled, though there was no humor in it. Francis chuckled, his grip on the businessman only tightening. Angus jumped as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulders, the feeling of the milkman’s nails digging into his flesh causing his breathing to speed up slightly. His head shot forward, his eyes traveling down to look at the hands who had him in a death grip by now.
The unnerving feeling transformed into full on panic in a second, his heart dropping seeing his friends- no, what he thought was his friends hands.
His lightly tanned skin had transformed into a dark, swampy green, his nails sharp and yellow. Angus knew what this meant. The general public, which included him, hadn’t seen much of what doppelgängers truly looked like. But it didn’t take a member of the D.D.D. to know what was happening, what would happen to him. The man let out a shaky breath, his body shaking uncontrollably as he heard a soft chuckle behind him. He (it?) still put in the effort to sound like Francis, for whatever reason, maybe just to make Angus’ last moments worse.
“What’s wrong, Angus? You were so lively just a few seconds ago…” The creature impersonating Francis snickered at his own comment, his nails drawing small drops of blood from the businessman. Angus didn’t respond, nor did he look back. He was frozen like a statue, too afraid to make a move. His heart was pounding in his chest, as if it’d leap out in any moment. The doppelgänger hummed, a wide grin which revealed sharp teeth on his face.
“Shame you don’t want to talk. That’s fine, though. You’ll say something eventually. Or scream, I don’t care.” With that, the creature sunk his teeth deep into Angus neck, a shriek of pain leaving the businessman’s throat. The man dropped plate of food on the ground, a loud crashed ringing throughout the apartment as glass shattered onto the floor.
.
.
.
Francis groaned as he made his way to his room. His back had been killing him all day, and the doorman seemed to give him an especially hard time when it came to letting him in. Still though, the milkman couldn’t help but he confused when he saw the look of unidentifiable horror when they finally realized that he wasn’t a doppelgänger and instead the real deal, though he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He yawned as he walked up the stairs, thankful his room was the one closest to the steps. Though he wanted to just lie in his bed, he couldn’t ignore the odd sight he saw out of the corner his eye. He turned his head to his side, seeing Angus’ room door completely open.
He probably would’ve ignored it if it was anyone else, really. Chalked it up to a mistake when they were leaving their house, or he’d put no thought into it at all. Yet, he and Angus shared a bond, and despite how careless the businessman tended to be with certain aspects of his life, it didn’t seem like him to leave a door wide open.
Despite his usual uncaring attitude, he made his way to Angus’ room, taking a look inside. Even without putting a foot in the door, the entire situation had an eerie feeling about it that made him hesitant to look any further into it.
The lights were all shut off, only the light of the open refrigerator illuminating a small part of the room. Francis was no detective, but something was undoubtedly up. For some reason he couldn’t explain, his heartbeat became quickened, the simple act of breathing seeming like a much more difficult chance. Maybe he should’ve just went home, just should’ve trusted that Angus would be fine, and minded his own business, but he couldn’t. Fear, concern, and curiosity all mixed into one singular feeling in his brain, along with some bold determination to make sure his friend was okay.
He stepped into the room, flicking the light switch on. Nobody was in the living room, the noise of the hum of the refrigerator and the news report on the television not helping to soothe Francis’ nerves. “Mm, Angus? You here? It’s me.” He called, hating the way his voice shook with fright. An odd smell filled the room, a rather unpleasant one, much unlike the businessman, who applied expensive cologne everyday without fail. His eyes drifted to the direction of the kitchen, his breathing stopping completely at the sight.
A pool of blood.
The milkman felt his stomach drop, a wave of nausea and indescribable terror flooding his body as he covered his mouth with his palm. No, no, this wasn’t happening, he thought. Angus couldn’t be- he wasn’t- who could’ve? A million thoughts ran through his head, none being good. His legs seemed to be incapable of movement, one side of him telling him to run and get out of there, the other side telling him to go into the kitchen. For an uncountable amount of time, or maybe it just felt that way with how little time felt real right now, he didn’t do either, he simply stared at the splattered blood on the floor.
It seemed the second side of him won, as if autopilot, he walked into the kitchen, his legs shaking with uncertainty and horror. What he saw made him fall back in disbelief, fear, and anguish. Or who.
Angus laid there, slumped against the inside of the refrigerator, his eyes glossed over. Glass and what looked to be bits of Salisbury steak was scattered around the floor. A chunk of his neck bitten off, along with an arm. His stomach had been ripped open, some organs clearly missing. Or stolen more of, not that Francis could think of the difference. He couldn’t think at all, both his hands covering his mouth, though he couldn’t say anything if he tried.
He could only stare at his friends corpse, tears running down his cheeks.
Angus Ciprianni was dead, a fact simply too incomprehensible and scary for Francis to handle.