Chapter Text
Have you not heard on the news? It’s been a few days since it started, this hellish situation. The sun is brighter than ever, as if it was unleashing on Earth a thousands years’ worth of rage; and on top of that, creatures called “Visitors” pretend to be human so they can creep into the comfort of human homes, with intention still unclear. It was all so unnerving for you, as everything happened too quickly.
Your neighbor had explained everything to you, or so what he thought to be his truth, at the very least. What a kind man he was, always offering help. His older brother always bragged about how it’d bring him to his tomb, eventually.
You were always a lonely person, and he knew about it; which is why he urged you to never stay alone in your house. You couldn’t really remember the details, why it was so important or why you couldn’t stay by yourself - after all, you’re perfectly capable of handling it on your own, aren’t you?
Regardless, you obliged to his demands, and started taking in guests, people who showed up at your door at night, the only moment when the sun wasn’t scorching everyone alive.
All sorts of people came to seek shelter, all atypical in their own ways, all while the government gave you new indications on how to tell a “visitor” apart from a “real” human. All of this situation was weirdly unnerving to you. Each person you’ve met so far has had some sort of similarity with you, making the whole… Ordeal, of either refusing the shelter or straight up taking them out, all the more sickening. Despite the situation, and the weight of responsibilities crushing your spine as your home sheltered many more lives, you could never grow used to the frustration people would take out on you as you kept your door shut. And the noisome iron scent filling your nose as you unexpectedly discovered the bodies of once people you talked with - even briefly - was enough to turn your stomach upside down. It’s been a while since you’ve had a real meal, now that you thought about it.
And it’s been a while since pretty much all of your basic human needs were even properly covered. If you were used to the softness of your mattress, covering your body with many blankets, it was all a distant memory that you’re not sure to recover anytime soon. You’d become on edge, easily woken up by the faintest sound in your house, even the creaking of the wooden floor was enough to take you out of your slumber. Paranoia ruled most of your mannerisms, as you pretty much carried your gun in every room you wandered too during the day; and at night, it would be a secret held tightly against your chest, ready to draw, a secret you kept only to yourself, revealing it only to the worthy ones you’d let in.
It was all so new to you, yet you’d be one to quickly forget about how it’s just new to everyone else, that and you’re not the only one on the brink of a nervous breakdown every time you think things seemed to almost go haywire. For example, voices rising in a room you weren’t in could mean a fight was about to break. Or someone could present some signs of being a threat, but not all of them, leading you to doubt pretty much everything, and everyone - including yourself.
Oh, it was all too exhausting.
Oh, how you’d miss the spring time right before this hellish summer, when you could’ve never anticipated what was next.
Maybe, you would've enjoyed these sweet memories a bit more. Now, all that's left is … whatever this is.
___
Your eyes suddenly flew open, though you had to flutter them a few times before your brain had the time to process what just happened. You got the habit of now sleeping with your door slightly opened, so as to hear properly whenever someone would knock on your door; but the first few times, it was hard for you to get used to it.
You finally could make sense of what was happening: once again tonight, someone was knocking at your door. You could simply ignore it, but you’ve quickly found out that people desperate enough to seek asylum from total strangers could be far more stubborn than your desire to sleep again.
You could almost call it resilience, in a way.
As expected, another knock can be heard; and on that one, you decide to get your shit together and get on your feet. Your footsteps through the corridor were fast but still reluctant to go through this all over again. You could feel a glimpse of the subtle rays of moonlight peeking through your window blinds, adding more to this ghoulish atmosphere your house was immersed into.
And like every other night, you’d met a few people, some that you let in and some that you unfortunately had to send away. There was this strange guy that you’d typically qualify as a nerd, who kept blabbering about some hidden theories and how he’d enlighten the world with his truth. He was one of the people you sent away; you couldn’t quite grasp why, but this guy just gave you the creeps.
Another person showed up that night. A peculiar one, at most.
With that blazing heat, most people you’d meet were dressed accordingly with light clothes: yet the person who stood behind your door was wrapped in God knows how many layers, and was even shivering as he spoke to you.
“H-Hello. The h-heat doesn’t bother me, I'm just looking for a quiet place to rest. Might I find some p-peace in your home?”
He said that first sentence without even being prompted to, more as a statement than anything. You’d figure it was probably because he was already asked this question many times before landing on your doorstep.
“How long have you been searching for a place to stay?” You asked back, avoiding answering the question he asked first.
The stranger remained silent for a couple of seconds, letting your eyes land on his figure, giving you time for a more in-depth analysis. The man wore what seemed to be a green turtleneck, with a darker scarf and a loose brown jacket. His arms were wrapped around his body, as if he was actively trying to keep some warmth to his body.
His face was strange as well. In this setting, all you could make about it was that his eyes were these oddly-shaped vertical pupils, of a pitch black color you’ve rarely seen in anyone before. His gaze wasn’t staring directly into the lens, it was slightly off but not completely wandering enough. His eyebrows were strangely straight too, as if they were almost drawn on his face. And surrounding his pale skin, the stranger had black short hair, surrounding his face down to his neck.
Eventually, he spoke again.
“I’ve never found p-peace. So… A long t-time.” His voice was calm, yet the content of his words felt incredibly bleak.
Taking another look at the stranger, you figured out you’d ask this question anyways. “How does the heat not bother you?”
“I’m always c-cold. Others b-b-burn in the sun. I wrap myself in layers and still feel on the verge of fr-freezing. I'm afraid to take any layers off.” He ended up admitting, yet his face almost seemed unphased by what he was saying, adding more to this offbeat encounter.
“What if it just gets worse? And there's no d-death to ease the suffering?” He adds. He doesn’t speak so loudly, in fact, his voice is soft. He remains mostly motionless, both in his body language and in his facial expression.
In response to that, you can’t help but feel a shiver running down your spine. Everything about this person makes your inner core boil with conflicted feelings, and you couldn’t quite explain it, but your hand - almost absent-mindedly, reaches for the doorknob, ready to open.
Was it curiosity? Have you ever risked your life out of damn curiosity?
Regardless, you spoke again, allowing the stranger to enter your home. After a note about your ceiling and how it felt too low for him, you noticed his face showing, for the first time since he showed up, some sign of an emotion. His outer lips curled up, but only the bottom side of his face, leading to an odd “smile”, if you could ever call it like that. You quickly opened the door, and let him rush inside.
For the first time in a while, as the man walked beside you, you felt a really cold breeze of air, almost like it was following him. He rushed inside, his gaze never meeting yours, as you stood there and closed the door. It didn’t seem like anybody was about to show tonight, but…
What the hell did you just let in your house?
___
As you woke up the next day, no metallic stench filled your nose, signing your previous work as successful. You let out a brief sign, before standing up. The night was short, but there was no time to let go. You still had someone to check.
You wandered into your home, opening a few doors in search of the person you let in earlier this night. And upon entering the living room, you found him curled up on the couch, hunched over as his forehead rested on his knees and his pale, slender fingers were raised to his neck, occasionally picking at his skin or at the base of his hair. He seemed almost in pain, from your perspective.
Your eyes landed on him, studied him for a few seconds before he realized you were in the same room as him. He raised his head, his eyes finally meeting yours. He had this nonchalant expression on his face, putting you under the impression that he cared poorly about what was happening. The only distinct sound he made were that of his teeth clattering.
Taking a few steps in his direction, he understood that you were about to engage in a conversation with him. He unfurled his position, straightening his posture as he shoved his hands to his sides.
“How are you doing?” You asked.
“I’m okay. F-freezing, but mostly fine.” He answered, as you still had troubles to understand where his cold came from.
You had a habit of asking people where they came from, before proceeding to any test; this helped you grasp better at what to look for. For instance, someone who seemingly carried a lot of sadness and tears would have more of a chance to present with red eyes than someone else. So, you ask away.
“Where were you, before landing here? I mean, you had to stay at some kind of place” You ask, as the man buries his hands deeper in his coat.
“I was k-kicked out of my previous shelter.” He confesses. His hands stare off in the distance, like at the door: not quite on you, yet not quite away, but rather in some unsettling in between.
“Though I don’t think I’m r-ready yet to explain exactly w-why.” He adds.
That’s not usually a good sign, you think to yourself.
“How did you manage to get here?”
“P-Painfully so, like I t-told you last night.” He mumbled, his voice almost drowning in the clothes before his mouth. Yet, you notice how subtly his cheekbones moved as he opened his mouth to speak once more.
“I would’ve stayed in the s-sun, but it isn’t m-merciful. It would have b-b-burned me alive before I c-could even feel some w-warmth.”
He had this fascinating ability to talk about something so appalling with such a delicate and smooth tone. He was a living oxymoron, leaving you disarmed and strangely fascinated.
“And I suppose taking your jacket is out of the question?” It may seem like a dumb question, but you never know. You ask away.
He hums in response, before answering. “The f-fear is why I can’t remove it. I am already f-freezing with it. W-what would happen, if I t-took it off? I d-don’t want to feel any c-colder.”
His expression grew… Sad? Concerned? His lips dropped a bit lower, while his brows slightly curled upwards. Was it the last bit of humanity that made you feel empathy so deeply for him? It was a strange feeling building up for you, unsure of its roots.
Was it his definitive tone? How he spoke like he’d never known any form of warmth?
Was it his nonchalant demeanor, as if he had accepted his fate?
Yet, behind your empathy grew this inexplicable feeling that something was wrong. In the depths of your own guts, you could feel it, feel the paranoia, the uncertainty, whispering to you that something was just so wrong with him. He carried this usual familiarity of another being, yet small details were off, too off for you.
You shook your head, as if this would shake away the whispers from your insides. Grounding yourself back into reality, you noticed just now that he was subtly quivering through your whole conversation. Almost automatically, you get to reach some blankets stored in a cabinet: they harbor colorful flowery patterns, reminiscing you of your childhood, and the many blankets your grandmother would put on top of you during the coldest winters. A faint smile runs through your lips, before you get back to the shivering man who already curled back into his original position.
Gently, you lay the blanket around his shoulders, putting the two ends in front of him and, with a glance, encouraging him to grab them and fully wrap himself in these. He answers by lifting his head, and giving you a rather surprised look. With a slight hesitation, he eventually grabs it as he tries to bring some warmth to his being.
His surprise only deepens when he feels a hand, your hand, rubbing his upper back as you sat besides him. You figured out that maybe, though his issues seem to run a bit more in-depth, warmth isn’t only physical. Warmth is also used to describe a friendly, affectionate attitude towards someone else.
His gaze lays on his knees, as he remains quiet. It doesn’t seem to be of huge help, but it does seem to…Allievate something off his shoulders.
And maybe that, though you aren’t so sure yourself, that through this interaction, you’re helping yourself as well. You’re proving yourself that, despite the horrors you’re all living through, affection can subsist.
Timidly, you can feel his weight shifting ever so closely to your body. In the same nonchalant tone, you can hear him say.
“... W-warmth. You’re w-warm.”
It’s as if he was asking for a bit more than what you were already giving. Not that you’re minding.
You gently wrap your arm around his shoulder, as you bring him closer, shutting the space between both of your body. Carrying the same soft nature of your actions, you kindly rub his arm with your hand.
You can feel him lean into your touch, despite the multiple layers of clothes separating your hand to where his arm should be. You’re still caught in-between with him, in that your physical connection is still obstructed by something else.
… But you don’t mind either. It’s a nice compromise you both subconsciously came to.
He isn’t shivering anymore, you notice.
You also notice the cold emanating from him - goodness gracious, how can anyone be so cold?
This brings you back to…
Wait.
Caught up in that mess that was the tangle of your contradictory emotions, don’t you feel like you forgot something?
Like… Checking up for any signs he might be a Visitor?
As you look down, he looks so peaceful. You could bother him, ask him to show you his hands, his eyes, find something that would contradict everything that you’ve imagined so far. You could pull out your gun, put an end to whatever the tests could reveal.
Or you could lower your guards, just for once, in a prayer that in his potentially threatening nature, he will spare you too. What a bold, cowardly and egoistical bet, sacrificing a possible human life for your own transient peace.
But a human one.