Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Coat Guy wasn’t one for making friends anymore, especially since he wasn’t human. But people couldn’t know that or else he’d be shot on the spot. And so he keeps to himself, head low and body curled into a fetal position on the couch.

One day, for whatever reason, he decided to just… not do that. Instead, he ventured into the kitchen to have a look around. He honestly didn’t expect to see anyone in there since the room looked so small, but as he walked in with caution… he immediately spotted a man hunched over the small kitchen table with a notepad and pen, scribbling away like a madman on crack.

He’d never seen him before so he must be one of the newest residents, perhaps one that also kept to himself?

“….Hi.” Coat Guy forced himself to speak up, standing in the doorway awkwardly like an introvert who finally left their room to go into the kitchen for food, but then ran into a relative and now has to engage in a conversation with them.

Except he started the conversation, not the guy in glasses.

The man in question visibly jolted as he swerved his head, adjusting his glasses nervously while clutching a thick stack of handwritten notes to his chest. His eyes narrowed into suspicious slits, scanning over Coat Guy’s entire being like he was a caged animal of some sort.

"Do you also think potato chips are government propaganda or do I have this whole place wrong?" The man asked bluntly.

That… wasn’t a good start.

Coat Guy raised his eyebrow. He didn't know what this guy's deal was but it intrigued him. He took a few steps into the room, standing a decent distance away as his hands slid into his pants pockets.

"…Do I want to know the reasoning as to why you think potato chips are government propaganda?" His voice was calm and even. Or well… he tried to make it that way, but his constant shivering was making it difficult.

The man blinked rapidly, adjusting his glasses again like a man possessed by conspiracy. "Reasoning? Oh, oh- you don’t even realize the depth of the rabbit hole." He tapped his temple with one finger.

"Potato chips are synthetic flavor constructs. The real potato was phased out in '98 to make way for government-grade starch substitutes—no nutritional value, just crunch and compliance."

He leaned slightly forward, voice dropping to a whisper despite being alone in the room with Coat Guy. "They’re conditioning us through snack food. Make us crave salt… sugar… artificial unity!" He gave a pause, looking over his shoulder momentarily before looking back.

"...Do you ever feel like your cravings aren’t really yours?"

Oh, he’s that kind of person.

Despite that realization, Coat Guy didn't walk out of the room. Instead, he hummed in acknowledgement and took a good look at the stack of handwritten notes pressed against the man's chest. After that was done, he gave the man a glance up and down.

This guy was certainly not normal. That much was obvious.

He squinted his eyes at the man curiously, trying to get a good read on his aura waves to deduct if he had any black or red smudges over him. His was mostly blue, with white dots that looked like snowflakes floating around his head.

Human.

He gave a soft sigh through his scarf and nodded his head.

"…All the time, actually."

The theorist’s entire body stiffened like he’d just been electrocuted by revelation. "You too?!" He clutched his notes tighter, eyes widening behind his glasses. "This—this confirms it. They’re doing this on purpose! The cravings are not natural!"

He took a sudden step closer, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "Tell me… have you ever woken up craving something absurd? Like… say… pickles dipped in peanut butter?" His expression darkened with theatrical horror as he waited for the answer like it held the secrets of the universe itself.

Oh, you want weird cravings??

Well… this man certainly came to the right person. Coat Guy had been experiencing really weird cravings since he turned into a Visitor, and that included eating some really bizarre things.

Pickles dipped in peanut butter had nothing on him.

He was tempted to make fun of the man, but his urge to mess with him won out, so he played along. He nodded solemnly. “…Yes, that has happened… more than once."

A breathless gasp broke from between the theorist’s lips. It was as if he had just discovered the last missing piece to an elaborate puzzle. "I knew it!" He began pacing back and forth, running a hand through his messy hair. "You… you're like me… you see the inconsistencies… the patterns…"

He stopped suddenly, whirling around to face Coat Guy with an intensity that bordered on madness. "What else have you craved… besides the peanut butter and pickles?"

Coat Guy was beginning to think that this guy was going to explode at this rate, but he also was starting to find him to be… good company.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand coming up to his chin.

"Well… let's see... I've had some ice cream topped with ketchup, ketchup-flavored potato chips, and… this is going to sound very strange, but I also had the urge to eat… spaghetti with mustard."

The theorist’s eyes widened impossibly further, his entire being practically vibrating with excitement. He took an unsteady step forward, practically clinging to every bizarre craving that left Coat Guy's mouth like they were messages from the universe itself.

"Mustard spaghetti… ice cream with ketchup…" He repeated in an awestruck whisper. "It's- it's far more than just a craving. It's a message! A hidden language of our subconscious screaming at us to wake up! Do you see the patterns? The connections!?"

He was completely serious. Completely and utterly lost in this insane logic.

Honestly, this was the most interesting conversation Coat Guy has had in weeks. Maybe even months. Did this count as playing with his food? Honestly, he really didn’t want to kill this guy by any means. He felt like a breath of fresh air after being sat next to Bar Guy for days, who only ever talked about how fucked they all were.

He played along with a nod, keeping his face completely straight despite wanting to laugh. "…Yes, I do see the patterns." He said, serious and guarded, "They're all paired with condiments. We gotta stop consuming condiments.”

"Yes! Yes, that's a brilliant deduction!" The man exclaimed, clapping his hands together with feverish enthusiasm as his pacing resumed. "Condiments are a key piece in the puzzle, a subtle form of manipulation! And we haven't even touched on coloring agents yet…"

He spun on his heel, fixing a manic gaze on Coat Guy. "Tell me, what's your go-to beverage?"

Coat Guy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering. His shoulders were shaking faintly, and he was trying his damndest to keep a straight face. Even if he was a walking corpse and felt no emotions but hunger, he wanted to make this guy’s day.

"…Tap water."

The theorist’s eyes narrowed into slits of utter disbelief, like he'd just heard the most heinous blasphemy in the history of human civilization.

"Tap water…? Tap water?!" He repeated, his voice dripping with horrified shock.

He clutched his stack of notes so tightly the edges began to tear. "Do you realize that tap water is saturated with government chemicals? Fluoride, chlorine, and who knows what else?!"

He jabbed a finger in the air like he was pointing out sinners in a cult. "You're drinking poison!! No wonder you look so blue!”

He really called me out on my corpse-like skin.

"So… what do you suggest I drink instead?" Coat Guy asked, his voice still that usual flat tone. He hadn’t even noticed his shoulders relaxing themselves, or the faint hint of a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Distilled water! Filtered water! Any water that hasn't been tainted by the government's chemical agenda," the theorist raved, gesticulating wildly to emphasize each point. He paused, suddenly regarding Coat Guy with a suspicious frown.

"Actually… how many glasses of tap water have you had in the last 24 hours?" He asked, leaning forward as if he already knew the answer and was prepared to be horrified.

The colder man hummed thoughtfully again, pretending to actually ponder his question. The truth was that he hasn’t actually consumed anything other than human meat for the past maybe five or six weeks, but he definitely couldn’t just outright tell him that.

"Hm… lemme see…" He mused, tapping his chin.

"Does making hot cocoa with tap water count? Or does the heat kill all the bad stuff in it?”

The theorist inhaled sharply through his teeth, shaking his head as if he was reprimanding a child. "The heat weakens the chemical compounds at best," he explained in a tone that suggested he thought it was common knowledge. "You're still drinking government poison."

His eyes narrowed as he studied Coat Guy again. "No wonder you look like you’re one step away from death. The chemicals are probably attacking your bloodstream as we speak!”

Oh god, don’t laugh, don’t laugh.

He was sure that his face was red from the effort of holding it back now. The more this guy went on, the more he found him endearing.

He nodded again, trying to keep his tone even. "…So I guess I should start switching to distilled water, huh? Can tap water even be used safely for cooking?"

The theorist shook his head vehemently, his enthusiasm flaring up like a forest wildfire. "Absolutely not! Not for cooking, not for drinking, not for anything!" He exclaimed, his hands gesturing with an almost panicked fervor. "Those chemical compounds can seep into your food, your drinks, even your skin if you're exposed to them enough!"

Coat Guy nodded again, not entirely sure what else to do. He was honestly getting invested in this guy and his beliefs now, despite knowing that they were all bullshit.

But… it was cute. He liked his enthusiasm.

“….I hope you know the only beverages here are tap water, soda, and cheap beer. And most of the food supplies are just potatoes.” He informed him with a weak shrug. “…Are you okay with potatoes?”

The theorist recoiled like he'd been physically struck, clutching his notes to his chest as if they could shield him from the horrifying truth.

"Potatoes?!" He gasped out in a whisper-yell. "They're- those are government-subsidized starch bombs! You can't trust anything with that kind of texture!"

He began pacing again, muttering under his breath about potato-based mind control before suddenly stopping dead and whirling back around.

"...Wait." His eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion. "Are you testing me?"

Coat Guy bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a smile. This guy, with his crazy conspiracies and paranoia was probably the most entertaining person he's talked to in… ever.

He shrugged, giving him a look in return.

"And if I was? I think the homeowner grew the vegetables himself, so they can’t be tampered with by the government in any way.”

The older man’s eyes widened the tiniest fraction, his paranoia flaring up to new levels as he probably weighed the possibility of him being in league with the government.

"Grew the vegetables himself, you say?" He repeated, studying Coat Guy with intense suspicion. "...How do you know he didn't grow them on contaminated soil? Or with special fertilizer that's engineered to brainwash the population?"

He was starting to sound a bit hysterical, like he was slowly losing his grip on reality in a flurry of government-related conspiracies.

Coat Guy took in a deep breath through his scarf, trying to compose himself as best he can before moving his hand to carefully place it on the other man’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to go check the soil for any suspicious activity?” He asked softly. “It’s down in the basement, so it’s not like i’ll be going outside or anything.”

The theorist’s eyes flickered between Coat Guy’s hand and his face, processing this sudden gesture of solidarity. His shoulders relaxed slightly, though only by a millimeter, as he exhaled through his nose.

"...Fine. But if you find any unnatural growth patterns or suspicious residue," he said in a low voice, "do not touch it. And for the love of god—wear gloves."

He clutched his notes tighter, maybe a comfort mechanism. "If we’re going to crack this conspiracy… we have to be methodical. No loose ends."

Coat Guy gave the man in front of him a gentle and reassuring squeeze on the shoulder to show his solidarity. Despite him looking like an absolute paranoid wreck, he didn’t want the man to go completely insane on him.

He nodded to confirm his agreement, his eyes softening ever so slightly behind his scarf.

"Alright. I'll report back to you with my findings." He gave a fake salute before heading out the kitchen door, finally breaking out into a small smile once his back was fully turned.

As he walked down the small hallway, he realized something… odd. Something he hadn’t felt in his chest in a real long time…

He felt… faintly warm.

His teeth weren’t even chittering when he was talking to that weirdo! That’s- that’s never happened before.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

Chapter Text

The homeowner began letting in more people, some less trusting than others. Coat Guy didn’t really pay them any mind at first, spending most of his time either curled up on the couch or poking his head into the kitchen to check in on his conspiracy theorist friend.

He should really learn that man’s name… but then again, he hadn’t given his name to anyone here yet. He’d been unconsciously referring to him as Theorist in his head, so maybe he’ll just stick to that for the time being…

He missed checking who all came in last night, so when he went to poke his head into the kitchen the morning after… he found it to be not as empty as it once was.

Theorist was still in his same spot at the table, writing away on his small notepad. But now, there was also a younger looking, stocky man seated beside him with a paper cup in hand. Coat Guy could smell the coffee from here, a pleasant aroma.

The new man had a buzzcut and weirdly tinted blue skin, nearly resembling his own. But unlike Coat Guy, he wasn’t bundled up in layers upon layers of clothing like a psychopath. He had on a plain T-shirt with black sleeves and a pair of jeans.

“It doesn’t feel right being here without having some kind of legal tenant agreement with the thoughtful owner of this here establishment.” The man mumbled under his breath, probably half expecting Theorist to agree with him. But judging by his focused expression on his work, he didn’t seem to be paying much attention.

Coat Guy’s instincts told him that there was something off about the guy, his dark eyes immediately darting to the man's eyes to check for any… well. Malicious intent.

He remained standing awkwardly in the doorframe, silently watching the two of them. The man’s pupils were darting all over the place, unable to stay focused. He didn’t seem like a guy who would be so visibly nervous.

Coat Guy cleared his voice and lightly tapped on the wall twice to make his presence known. “Um… good morning.”

Theorist nearly jumped out of his skin, flinching violently as he snapped out of his writing-induced trance. His glasses nearly fell off his face as he jerked his head towards the doorway, hand coming up to clutch his notes.

His wide blue gaze landed on Coat Guy, an expression of both relief and surprise flickering across his face. He quickly composed himself, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

"Oh, uh, good morning!" He greeted, voice scratchy from disuse. He darted a nervous glance at the strange man beside him.

The unknown new man glanced over to Coat Guy with a faint frown, his eyes locking onto him like a hawk. The stare felt… weird. As if he was a target, and as if he was being… scanned.

The man suddenly gave a toothy smile, one that didn't seem sincere in the slightest.

"Hey, man. How ya' doin'?"

Coat Guy shifted where he stood, feeling extremely uncomfortable by how the man was looking at him. It was almost predatory. Or maybe short, muscular men who looked like they belonged in the military put him on edge.

“I’m d-doing o-okay…” He eventually answered timidly, stuffing his hands back into his coat pockets. He didn’t feel as warm as he did last time, which was already a massive bummer.

“Y-You said s-something about a-a tenant agreement? Are y-you a lawyer o-of some kind?” He asked the man, his curiosity peaked.

The man huffed out a small laugh, his grin growing even wider. It still didn't look genuine. He leaned slightly further in his chair, his intense gaze boring into Coat Guy. “Yeah, something like that." He answered simply, his smile falling away to be replaced by a stern look. "Just because the world is going to shit doesn’t mean people should start breaking the law.”

Coat Guy bit the inside of his cheek, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. He tried to ignore how cold he suddenly was. "I- well, that's fair, but- but most places have already been abandoned…"

He gestured to the house around him, referring to literally everyone that has already taken shelter here.

The man scoffed, crossing his arms stubbornly. “The homeowner still calls the shots here, no questions asked. The people who break into homes all willy nilly are cold hearted criminals in the law’s eyes.” He stated firmly, taking a passive aggressive sip from his coffee cup.

Christ, this guy was serious about his line of work.

Theorist shifted slightly in his seat, his grip on his notes tightening. "Uh... you sound like a real stickler for the law." He interjected cautiously.

The man laughed dryly, the sound feeling very forced again. "Damn right I am." He replied smugly, his eyes landing on Theorist. "And what do you do, big man? Got a big important job?"

The way the man said it… seemed as if it was an offensive insult, not an honest question. He gave Theorist a once over, raising his eyebrow at the notebook in his hands. "Don't tell me you're a goddamn journalist…"

Coat Guy suddenly found himself taking a step forward, not entirely sure what his body was planning on doing before he forced himself to stop. “Actually, h-he’s a very i-important researcher.” He stated, teeth slightly gritted.

Theorist cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat, pushing up his sleeves with an air of misplaced dignity before fixing the suspicious man with a sharp look.

"Actually," he said coolly, voice carrying just enough edge to make it clear this wasn't a joke. "I was employed at one of FEMA's underground research facilities before they tried silencing me."

His fingers tapped once against the tiny notebook for emphasis, a silent threat: Try me.

The man raised an eyebrow again, now slightly intrigued. "Oh?" He mumbled. “And what did you research there, big shot? UFOs? Zombies? The government’s secret weapon stash?"

Coat Guy noticed that Theorist's eyes flashed at the last statement, and he shifted the slightest bit closer towards the table and in between the two men.

He felt really cold now. He tried to rub his arms a little, but it didn't help. “H-He really d-doesn’t h-have to t-tell you anything…” He mumbled, burying his face back into his scarf.

Theorist glanced briefly at Coat Guy, his expression softening momentarily in concern before quickly hardening again as he faced the suspicious man.

He sat up straighter, a defiant fire burning in his eyes. "My work is classified," he said bluntly, gripping his notes a bit tighter. "And even if it wasn't, I doubt you'd understand. It takes a certain level of intelligence to grasp government secrets."

The man sneered at the insult, his eyes narrowing again. "Are you implying that I'm stupid?" He asked, his tone slightly heated but quiet enough to not warrant any outside attention yet.

Coat Guy could practically feel the tension in the air now. He hated it. He was always bad with social situations, and now he was in the awkward position of mediating.

"N-No, he didn't mean it like that-" He chimed in, trying to ease the tension. He took another half step closer to Theorist, his hand gripping his scarf like a lifeline.

Theorist’s fingers slowly loosened their grip on his notes, although his gaze remained fixed on the suspicious man. “Right," he affirmed, his voice still cool and steady. "I never called you stupid. Incompetent would be a more apt term." It was a half-apology, and based on the look on his face, Theorist didn't seem even remotely sorry about it.

The man's eye twitched, his jaw clenching tightly. He was getting annoyed.

"Incompetent, huh?" He mocked. "Well, I could say the same about you, researcher boy. All you do is sit on your ass and doodle in a notebook all day everyday."

His shoulders were stiff now. Coat Guy noticed that and took another half step again, now directly behind Theorist.

Theorist stiffened, his fingers curling slightly against the notebook. “Doodle? Doodle?!" He practically spat out the word in outrage. "These notes contain classified government information- proof of their manipulation!" His voice rose in pitch as he jabbed a finger toward his meticulously scribbled pages like they were his Bible.

The man let out a frustrated scoff, his hand slamming against the table. "Oh, shut up about that government nonsense! I’m not buying it." He snapped, looking very annoyed at this point. "You really think anyone with half a brain cell will believe some conspiracy theory bullshit?" He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze hard.

"The only notes you've got are a bunch of delusional ramblings written by a lunatic." He gestured to the notebook with a mocking grin. “You're a nobody, researcher boy. Just a sad, little man with some crazy thoughts and a notebook!”

Coat Guy hunched forward as he wrapped one arm around his stomach, sucking in air through his teeth as he tried to calm the storm that was rumbling around underneath his clothes.

Not now, not now, not no—

The kitchen door swung open, making all three of them flinch from the noise as the homeowner’s eyes scanned the room with his shotgun in hand. Huh, he seemed to be checking people earlier than usual.

“You. Out.” He pointed a finger at the lawyer instead, strict and unapologetic. The man in question stood to his feet, eyes widened. “What??! I didn’t violate any laws!” He exclaimed, slamming down his empty plastic cup.

The homeowner didn’t budge. “I don’t care about the law. I care about how people treat others, especially when all we want is a roof under our heads and good company. You aren’t good company, so get out of my house and find someplace else.”

The lawyer stared at the homeowner gobsmacked, not believing what he was hearing. "Are you serious?!! The sun is out, i’ll die out there!”

The homeowner rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Then wait until nightfall in a different room, but you aren’t allowed to speak with these people anymore.” He stated firmly.

The man clenched his teeth so hard that Coat Guy could hear them grinding against each other, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

He looked about ready to snap at the homeowner, but after a moment of tense staring, he huffed and stalked out of the room, muttering to himself all the way down.

Once the man was gone, The homeowner sighed and put away his gun, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, these people are driving me crazy…” he mumbled, walking out the door as well before closing it behind him.

Theorist exhaled sharply, his tense shoulders slumping slightly in relief. He adjusted his glasses with one hand while gripping the edge of his notebook like a lifeline.

"That guy was definitely brainwashed," he muttered under his breath before glancing at Coat Guy, specifically at how hunched over he looked behind him, arms wrapped tight around himself.

His expression softened instantly into concern. "...You okay?"

The question made Coat Guy flinch a little, though he tried to compose himself as quickly as he could.

He was fine, at least that’s what he told himself.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine." He confirmed with a nod, trying to straighten himself a little even though it looked awkward as hell. The cold feeling in his chest felt worse now, as if it was slowly creeping its way up to his neck. “Just… cold, I-I guess.”

Theorist frowned, noticing the subtle hint of a shiver. He scooted his chair closer, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to settle on the man's arm. "You're shivering," he observed quietly. “How are you always so cold despite the warm temperatures?”

Coat Guy stiffened at the touch, the shiver becoming more pronounced. He hated being touched, but he also craved it at the same time. He didn't answer for a moment, his words catching in his throat for some reason.

“M-Medical condition…" He admitted quietly, unable to meet Theorist's eyes right now. “I’m used t-to it.”

Theorist's gaze softened with concern. His hand lingered gently on Coat Guy's arm, thumb rubbing slow circles against his sleeve in a subtle but comforting gesture. "You're always bundled up like it's winter..." He murmured, his gaze flickering over the layers of clothing on the other's body.

"Doesn't it get… overwhelming?" He asked softly, tilting his head to try and catch Coat Guy's gaze.

Coat Guy was almost tempted to lean into the touch, but he resisted the urge. He was already making a fool out of himself as it was. He shrugged half-heartedly, pulling his arm back to hug himself again. He was so cold. He always was, and he was tired. So tired.

"Used to it, I guess…" He repeated, his eyes drifting to the floor. His breathing was becoming strained now. “Y-You gonna start making theories on me or something?”

Theorist’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Only if you want me to," he said carefully, adjusting his glasses with his free hand while the other remained resting lightly on Coat Guy's arm. "But for what it’s worth, you don't seem like a government plant."

His tone was teasing, but there was genuine warmth beneath it.

"...Just maybe lay off the tap water?"

Coat Guy huffed out a small chuckle, the movement making him shiver again. Why was that stupid joke so effective? God… he hated how easily affected he was.

He wrapped his arms even tighter around himself, his fingers digging so hard into his arms that it hurt. He didn't know what to do with his hands, they were shaking too much-

His breath hitched, but he couldn't pinpoint why it was suddenly even harder to breathe.

"Y-Yeah…" He mumbled, not really feeling the joke much anymore. He forced his legs to move, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer. “I… have to go now. B-Bar Guy wanted m-me to get him a beverage.” He explained, and while it technically was a lie, he’s sure the alcoholic would thank him regardless.

Theorist's hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and stop Coat Guy from leaving, but he hesitated… probably out of respect.

"Right," he said softly, watching him close the fridge after retrieving the beer can. “It was nice talking to you again! If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

That tone sounded so sincere. That was what made this so much harder. Coat Guy didn't like people caring about him. They never actually did. They only cared about what he could provide them.

He gave a nod and smiled under his scarf, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah… s-see you." He muttered before heading out, gripping the beer can tightly in his hand in an attempt to soothe the shaking.

Fuck, when did he get so emotional?

Chapter Text

Coat Guy stood idly at the doorway of the bathroom, where a new guest and a corpse found themselves residing in. A grieving widow and her husband’s corpse in the bathtub, dipped in cold water like that would somehow stop the rotting process.

He knew this would only end badly, with the corpse showing aura signs of being a visitor and all. If that woman sticks around that corpse for too long, she might become infected herself.

Coat Guy made a mental note to keep an eye on her before pushing himself off the doorframe to venture elsewhere, letting the widow weep in peace.

He soon found himself walking into the office, a room where he rarely ever visited for no reason in particular. It looked about the same as the living room, so what’s the point?

However, the room did indeed hold another new guest. A man sat atop the dresser cabinet to the far left of the room, hunched over and looking down at his hands. Slightly disheveled black hair with bangs, a crooked nose like he’d been punched a few times in his life before, a goatee and mustache, full eyebrows, and slight bags under his eyes.

He wore a dark-colored polo neck sweater that Coat Guy would’ve killed to snag, and slim black pants and shoes to match.

His first question was why the guy wasn’t just sitting on the completely open couch. His second question was why did he just see a literal centipede crawling out of the man’s ear!?

Either this guy gave zero shits about anything at all, or he’s someone like him.

Coat Guy narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, not at all surprised when he came face to face with purple static and red wavy lines. His aura wasn’t human, clearly. Meaning, yes, the homeowner may have accidentally let in another Visitor.

And to be fair, that wouldn’t have bothered him about four days ago. But now he has a human friend under the same roof as all these fiends, which means… he needed to start caring.

So when the murderous sun went down for the night, Coat Guy made his way into the kitchen instead of hunkering down in the living room with Bar Guy again. Theorist had his head down against the table, pen still in hand like he fell asleep mid-rant.

Coat Guy watched him for a moment.

Something about seeing him so peaceful like this… was strangely reassuring. The guy was usually so intense with something all the time. Whether it be research, or just plain theorizing, or writing notes…

The guy never stopped, never rested, never took a break.

There was something admirable about it, but- well, no matter how you swing it, that was unhealthy. The dark circles under Theorist's eyes were proof of that.

But hey, who was he to judge? He himself was a walking monstrosity, some would call him a sentient ice cube of sorts.

He stopped just an inch behind him, taking a moment to study his face up close. His hair was messy from how many times he was running his fingers through it in a frantic panic probably.

Even with such small details, Theorist was still a handsome man. He silently scolded himself for thinking such things. He needed to focus. He was only here to protect and nothing more.

Carefully, he pulled out a chair and sat himself down. The old metal made a loud creak, screaming under his light weight from old age and rust. Coat Guy cringed at the sound, scrunching his nose.

The noise pulled Theorist from his exhausted state, his head shooting up and eyes snapping over to the source of the noise. He froze for a split second when he noticed Coat Guy sitting across from him, surprised and confused by the unexpected company.

He quickly adjusted his glasses, pushing himself up straighter and running a tired hand through his unruly hair in a futile attempt to make himself look awake and presentable. He then cleared his throat, “O-Oh! Um… good evening! I uh, didn’t expect company so late.”

Coat Guy leaned forward, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You should really try getting some proper sleep sometimes, y'know. You'll burn out your brain if you keep going at this rate."

A quiet huff left his lips, "Seriously, when was the last time you even ate a full meal? Are you still afraid of the whole potato thing??”

Theorist opened his mouth to protest, a rebuttal at the ready on the tip of his tongue…

But he paused, his shoulders sagging faintly as his gaze shifted down to his lap. A sigh slipped out from between his lips before he could stop it. He leaned on the table for support. "…I'm working through it."

That wasn't very reassuring.

"Working through it?" Coat Guy echoed, a faint frown tugging at his lips. He leaned forward a little more, eyeing him skeptically with a small shake of his head. He was never good at this kind of thing, but he felt it was necessary right now.

"You know the potatoes are fine, right? Remember when I said I would check the dirt and everything downstairs for you? I didn’t find anything nefarious, I promise.”

He took a moment to eye the coffee-stained notes on the table in front of them. “…You working on more Visitor theories?” He asked curiously.

The man quickly shifted in his seat. "Yes, I am," he said, gesturing at the notes covering the table. "Why do you ask?" His tone was slightly defensive, as if he was bracing for the usual mockery.

Coat Guy shifted in his seat, leaning forward again and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, "I’ve got my own theory about them. Dunno if you’d be interested in hearing about it though…”

It was bait, but it also gave him an opportunity to warn the man about something without giving himself away.

Theorist’s eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten as curiosity took over. He leaned forward in his chair, fingers tapping against the edge of his notebook.

"Wait- you have a theory too?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, excitement lacing every word. "You've been studying them this whole time?!"

He didn't even realize he'd practically lunged across the table toward Coat Guy until he caught himself and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"...I mean." He adjusted himself back into an upright position with forced casualness before gesturing grandly at all of it— the notes covering half their surroundings like some kind of conspiracy theory shrine between them on display for review if needed later.

"I'm very interested."

Coat Guy almost chuckled under his scarf at the older man's eagerness but managed to hold it in by sheer force of will alone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I have," He confirmed with a short nod, watching Theorist lean closer like an eager puppy.

He took a small breath before clasping his hands together. “Alright, so… I think dead things can carry the virus that makes people Visitors. If animal carcasses can carry out diseases, why can’t humans?” He questioned lowly. “But instead of coming back to life as a Visitor, it spreads the disease onto whoever is closest to it.”

Theorist began to nod, a spark of curiosity igniting in his exhausted eyes.“Interesting…" He murmured, tapping his pen against his notebook thoughtfully. "I mean, that does makes sense when you put it that way…"

He paused, looking up at Coat Guy. The excitement in his gaze faded a bit, replaced again by uncertainty. "What exactly led you to this revelation?"

Coat Guy leaned back against his hands, crossing one leg over the other. He almost felt like some detective-like character, explaining his theory in a dramatic fashion.

Almost.

"Observation, my friend." He answered him. "And an understanding of how diseases work." He paused momentarily, eyes flicking over to the door.

“….And also maybe because there’s a lady currently occupying the bathroom with her dead husband rotting away in the tub.” He added under his breath.

Theorist's expression immediately darkened, his fingers tightening around the pen.

"Wait- what?!" He practically shrieked, slamming both hands on the table and nearly knocking over a stack of papers in the process. His glasses slid down his nose slightly from how abruptly he'd moved forward. "You mean to tell me there’s an actual corpse just sitting out somewhere here?! That could be spreading Visitor infection right under our noses?!"

He was already scrambling to gather up some of his notes like they were suddenly life-or-death documents, because honestly? To him, they probably were at this point.

Coat Guy flinched back, almost toppling his chair in the process. "Shhhh, not so loud!" He whisper-yelled, shooting a worried glance towards the door as he held his hands up.

"Hey, hey, calm down," He attempted to soothe him, but it was a little difficult considering how panicked Theorist was right now, like a kid who hadn't had their coffee yet in the morning. "Yeah, I know how it sounds, but! As long as the body is disposed of within three or so days, she’ll be fine.” He reassured him.

Theorist's face paled, his knuckles gripping the edges of the pages so tightly that they creased under the pressure.

"Three days?!" He exclaimed, voice lowering to an urgent hiss. "Are you- are you insane?! You're telling me that if someone doesn't do something within seventy-two hours, we'll have another Visitor on our hands?!"

Now he felt kind of bad for the guy.

"Calm. Down." Coat Guy repeated, trying again to appease the panicked man in front of him. His tone was still stern though, like a parent telling a child off. "Relax. If you'd actually let me finish, I'd explain it." Now he just sounded annoyed, but it was necessary.

He reached across the table and lightly grasped Theorist's wrist, squeezing it gently. "I've got this handled, just like the potato thing. It’ll be difficult to convince a grieving woman to let go of her husband, but I think… she wants to bury him. I’ll find a shovel, go outside while the sun is still down, and bury him for her.”

Theorist's shoulders hunched up defensively for a split second like a jolt ran through his system, an electric shock to his over-sensitive spine, before he quickly forced himself to relax again.

He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes tight as he tried to gather his frayed nerves. He had to keep it together, for his own sake. "...Okay. Okay, you're right. I'm- I'm sorry, I just…"

He trailed off, opening his eyes again to stare down at Coat Guy’s hands with a mixture of exhaustion and confusion. “…Huh. Where are your… fingernails?”

"Hm?" He was a little caught off guard from the sudden topic change.

Coat Guy shifted awkwardly in his seat, dropping Theorist's wrist in order to bring up his hand to stare at his bare fingertips.

"Oh, I bit 'em," he confessed with an embarrassed shrug, as if he'd been caught eating a pack of cookies. "Bad habit of mine. Because of my cold issue." He added quickly before dropping his hand back down again.

Theorist reached across the table and gently gripped Coat Guy's hand without even warning him in advance. The moment he made skin-on-skin contact, his eyes widened. He almost hissed.

"God- Jesus Christ, you're freezing!" He whispered urgently, pulling the hand closer and gently rubbing the palm with his thumb. "It's like you're made of pure ice…"

Coat Guy couldn't help flinch, feeling a small jolt of electricity in his fingertips for some reason. His breath hitched in his throat, heart rate increasing a little bit. Shit, why was the guy so warm? He felt like a damn heater compared to him.

He watched him rub his palm with an almost awed look, trying to control his breathing when he realized just how much of a difference in temperature there was between them.

His hands were so cold, it felt nice. Really, really nice.

And also his chest felt like it was on fire, in the best way possible. Stopped him from shivering like a maniac. “I probably look like a science experiment gone wrong compared to everyone else here…” He eventually mumbled.

"More like a science experiment gone right..." Theorist mumbled, his eyes never leaving the paleness of Coat Guy's hand.

Before he could stop himself, he brought the other's hand up to rest against his own cheek, almost snuggling against the ice-cold skin.

"You're so cold…" He muttered under his breath. “And so fascinating…”

Christ, Coat Guy had never felt anything like it. The sheer difference in temperature was incredible. He could feel the faintest hint of warmth from Theorist's cheek, and it was heavenly.

He inhaled sharply through his scarf, not daring to pull away from the feeling. He needed to focus. "And you're burning," he said back, voice slightly breathless. "Like a furnace. It’s nice. I like it.”

A quiet, involuntary noise passed through Theorist's lips… a soft, pleased hum. Finally, he forced himself to stop, lowering the other's hand back down with a reluctant sigh. "I… I'm sorry… I just…"

The colder man almost whined at the loss of contact, missing the heat already. Oh no, he was addicted to it already. He was pretty sure he'd never come across a human as warm as this man.

"It's f-fine," he managed to stutter out, trying to sound normal. "You're fine… I-I don't mind, don't worry… It’s like I said, it felt nice.”

Theorist exhaled, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. He adjusted himself back into a more composed position, though it was clear from the faint blush creeping up to his ears that this whole interaction had affected him.

"...You're right," he murmured after a moment of silence, pushing up his glasses with one hand while using the other to straighten out some crumpled notes on top of their makeshift desk. "This is… good."

He glanced back at Coat Guy through narrowed eyes.

"I think we might need each other."

Coat Guy’s pulse quickened, and he tried to stay cool and collected, but he knew he was failing miserably. "Need each other?" He echoed, a smirk forming on his lips. "What, so we can keep each other from freezing and overheating?"

Theorist’s expression flickered, something between amusement and genuine contemplation. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as he regarded Coat Guy with a half-smile.

"Well… that too," he admitted in a low murmur. "But I meant more like—"

He gestured vaguely between them before letting out an exasperated sigh, rubbing at his temples again like this whole conversation was giving him secondhand exhaustion just by thinking about it.

"—We complement each other. You keep me company, and I keep you.. uh.. warm.”

Coat Guy couldn't help the small shiver that ran down his spine at the thought of being that close again. He quickly tried to ignore it, crossing his arms again and trying to look serious.

"So, you're saying you wanna be my personal mini heater?" He asked with a smirk.

Theorist choked on air, his face immediately flushing a deep red as he sputtered for words. His hands flew up to cover the lower half of his face in sheer embarrassment. "W-What?!" He squawked out, voice cracking slightly from how high-pitched it had gotten all of a sudden.

“I-I-I mean, if you’d l-like me to be that for you…! I don’t mind! You desperately need all the warmth you can get, so it all works out!” He stumbled over his words as he fidgeted.

Coat Guy never knew just how bad Theorist was with social stuff until now. It made him feel… special, somehow.

And for some reason, now Theorist was staring at him bewilderedly like he had something on his face. Coat Guy scrunched his brows and uncrossed his arms. “W-What?”

Theorist blinked rapidly, one hand carefully reaching out to grab ahold of Coat Guy’s chin. “Holy moly… have you seen your pupils..??” He whispered breathlessly, turning the cold man’s head for him from left to right slowly. “They’re like… slits…”

Coat Guy froze, letting the older man move his head this way and that way so he can properly examine him. What the hell? Why was his rotten heart pounding as if he just ran a marathon? This shouldn't be affecting him like this. It didn't make any sense.

He quickly tried to keep a neutral expression despite the pounding of his heart, trying to play it off like it didn't faze him even though the close proximity was absolutely killing him right now. Fuck, abnormal eyes are one of the Visitor symptoms. What if he figures out his whole ordeal? What if he’s killed??

"…A-And?" He squeaked out, keeping as still as humanly possible.

Theorist’s grip on his chin loosened slightly—not out of fear, but in fascination. His eyes were practically sparkling with scientific curiosity now. He leaned back just enough to meet Coat Guy's gaze properly, his own wide and earnest behind those thick glasses.

"...You look like a cat," he commented bluntly. “You aren’t an undercover cat hybrid, are you?”

…What the fuck?

Coat Guy couldn't help but look dumbfounded. Did—… did he really just say that? He wasn't even sure if he heard him correctly. Was this guy actually crazy? Or just a complete nerd?

He stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to register this conversation before he finally spoke up, tone dripping with disbelief.

"No, I am not an undercover cat hybrid." He responded flatly. "I just have a birth defect.”

Theorist let out a disappointed huff before releasing the younger man's chin. "Darn." He grumbled, folding his arms instead. A strange pout formed on his pink lips, and his expression was one of disappointment as he regarded Coat Guy with a critical gaze.

"There goes that theory." He sighed out, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against his biceps as if he was contemplating something. After a moment, he looked up at the younger man again. "You are the most interesting person I have ever met.”

The most interesting person? Him? It felt almost… wrong to hear that, but he found himself wanting to hear it over and over again. Coat Guy shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts and push them aside. "And you're the biggest nerd I've ever met."

Theorist let out an indignant gasp, his cheeks puffing out in mock-offense. "Hey! I'm a man of science," he protested, pointing an accusing finger at Coat Guy's chest. "I'm educated."

Coat Guy raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry…" He said apologetically, trying to contain his chuckles. "Forgive me, oh great nerd of science. But how can you be so smart yet still skip going to sleep at a reasonable time?”

Theorist's face scrunched up in irritation as he threw his hands up dramatically.

"Excuse you, I don't skip sleep- I just... repurpose it for research!" He huffed, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other waved vaguely toward a towering stack of notes labeled "SLEEP IS A GOVERNMENT MYTH (PROOF)". "Besides! I don’t need sleep, I need answers!"

Coat Guy tried to speak around his own hand, his eyes shining with mirth. "Repurpose it for research?" He snorted. "Yeah, you definitely need sleep, dude. Do you want me to snatch some blankets from the storage room for us?”

Theorist's expression went blank mid-rant, his hand falling slowly back into his lap. "Us? You're saying we would…" He trailed off slightly, clearing his throat awkwardly. "...We'd… you're saying we'd share?"

This was probably a bad idea, but he was feeling a little desperate. Desperate for warmth, desperate to feel something besides the constant chill that settled in his body.

Coat Guy let out a quiet sigh, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. "Yeah. Yes." He said simply. "We would. It would be safer, for the both of us. I… don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with potential Visitors in the other rooms. That’s a… worrying thought.” He admitted softly, glancing away when he felt his cold heart do this weird jumpy thing.

Theorist blinked rapidly, his face heating up again as he processed the implications.

"O-Oh! Right, right.. safety first," He babbled quickly before standing up abruptly and nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "Y-Yeah! Let's go grab those blankets then!" He was already speed-walking toward the door like a man on a mission.

Coat Guy couldn't help but smirk as he quickly got up from the chair, following behind the flustered researcher like a guard dog ready to pounce on whatever Visitor that even attempts to get close to his friend.

Nothing was going to get him tonight, or tomorrow.

They scurried down the hallway and entered the storage room, Coat Guy opting to go first for his own protective reasons. And as he stepped inside, he was greeted by a young woman curled up around herself in the far back. Ah, right. She’s still here…

Everyone calls her Cashier Girl, one of the first guests to make themselves home here. But despite how long she’s been here, she never leaves this closet. Coat Guy had tried talking to her before, but it ended in the poor girl having a nervous breakdown about being a potential Visitor.

Which, she was. But despite the monster living under her skin, Coat Guy has never seen her attack anybody at night. She’s aware of what she is, yet still decides to stay docile. Maybe that’s the trick to being a decent Visitor… if you’re aware, do you then have more control over yourself? Is that why he’s so good at controlling himself around others at night?

Huh. What a thought.

He offered Cashier Girl a small wave before reaching up to grab a few blankets from a shelf near the door, the girl raising her head momentarily to smile weakly in return.

Theorist hovered nervously next to Coat Guy, peeking over the blanket-clad man's shoulder curiously. “Oh! Hello!” He greeted her, a bit too loud for this hour of the night.

Cashier Girl flinched at the sudden greeting, shrinking back into her blanket cocoon like a startled turtle. Coat Guy winced, way too loud, but she didn’t seem hostile, just startled.

Coat Guy cleared his throat and shot Theorist a subtle glare before turning back to her with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry," he mouthed silently. The girl blinked up at them for a moment before giving another small smile and waving weakly in return.

Coat Guy sighed internally. This was going to be one long night of awkwardness if this kept up, but he grabbed two extra blankets anyway because damn it all, warmth was worth it even if Theorist embarrassed him senseless along the way.

Theorist's cheeks puffed out defensively. "I'm just being nice!" He protested in a hoarse whisper, shifting from foot to foot slightly as he tried to keep his volume under control this time.

You have a weird way of showing it, is what Coat Guy would've said to the guy if it weren't for the fact that he didn't want to hurt their chances of getting the blankets.

He rolled his eyes as he tucked the extra blankets under his arm, trying not to pay too much attention to the way Theorist was basically bouncing up and down behind him. He was like an excited puppy or something, it was kinda adorable.

…Augh, no, stop. Focus on the blankets first, cuteness-induced heart attacks could come later.

He gave one last glance over his shoulder to Cashier Girl before moving past Theorist and leaving the small room to return to the kitchen.

Theorist shot a quick and awkward wave at the girl again before following behind Coat Guy, rubbing the back of his neck in vague embarrassment.

"Sooo…" He began a bit too loudly again, making the other man wince as he tried to keep up with the taller man's long strides. "Does she always… just sit here in that closet? All alone?"

Coat Guy shot him another look before finally deciding to just grab the man’s wrist and pull him along so they wouldn’t lose each other in the hallway. "Yeah, she does," he muttered under his breath. "She's… not great with people."

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the storage room door as if expecting Cashier Girl to suddenly appear behind them like some kind of horror movie jump-scare.

"But you know what? Neither am I," He admitted quietly, giving Theorist's wrist an absent squeeze before letting go again once they reached their destination, back at their little makeshift research station (aka the kitchen) in peace at last without any more awkward interruptions from other guests lurking around corners.

Now all that was left was figuring out how exactly this whole blanket-sharing situation would work without making things weird between them... which might already be too late given how flustered Theorist had been acting earlier when Coat Guy brought it up in the first place anyway.

“Alright… gimme a second.” He murmured, dropping the blankets to the floor before walking over to grab two chairs, positioning them in the center of the room facing away from each other. He bent down and grabbed one blanket, tossing it over the chairs to create a small fort that even a child could make.

Theorist stood by, watching as Coat Guy built the impromptu fort, his eyes following the other man's hands as they moved with graceful, practiced ease.

"You have… good hands." He blurted out suddenly, tilting his head slightly as he observed each practiced motion, like a cat fascinated by a dangling piece of yarn. "Like… pianist hands. Y'know, long and delicate…"

Coat Guy froze mid-motion, the blanket slipping from his grip as he slowly turned to stare at Theorist.

…What.

His face burned under his scarf. Why did this guy have to notice everything? He was so damn perceptive it should be illegal.

"Pianist hands?" He echoed weakly before clearing his throat and looking away again, suddenly very invested in smoothing out a wrinkle on one of the blankets (that definitely wasn’t there). "I uh… wasn’t ever a band kid or anything.” He shrugged, dipping down underneath the blanket as he dragged the second one inside with him. “There should be enough space for you in here…”

Theorist shrugged awkwardly in return, rubbing his neck again—a habit that he probably wasn't even aware of at this point.

"Hey, I'm just sayin'..." He continued casually, ducking down to follow after Coat Guy into their little makeshift fort. It was quite the tight fit, especially for two full-grown men, but there was just enough room for them to be able to move around without knocking into each other.

"You've got… really nice hands. That's all." He finished lamely.

Coat Guy felt like his entire body was on fire now, but in a good way. He huffed a quiet laugh before shifting just enough to grab one of the blankets nearby and draping it over both their laps as if that would somehow hide how flustered he was.

"Yeah? Well you've got warm ones," he countered lightly, flexing his own icy fingers near Theorist's knee for comparison. "And you have uh… fingernails. I kinda regret biting mine off now…”

Theorist blinked down at the colder man’s hand, his own fingers instinctively twitching slightly before he very carefully reached out and gently brushed his thumb against the cold man’s knuckles.

"...They'll grow back," he murmured, almost absentmindedly as if this were some deep scientific revelation rather than just a basic fact about human biology. "And until then…" He trailed off with an awkward cough before pulling away again to adjust himself on the floor beside him. “Just uh.. wait patiently?”

Why was it so hard to concentrate when this guy kept touching him? It was… distracting. Not that Coat Guy was complaining, because this, whatever was going on between them currently, felt much better than being cold. So… so much better…

He swallowed, lowering himself onto his back to get more comfortable. "Patience is a virtue," he said softly. "And I'm a patient man."

However, walking corpses don’t really tend to grow things back like a healthy human body would. So he might not be seeing his fingernails ever again…

Theorist mirrored him, flopping back onto the floor with an exaggerated sigh, his arms crossed behind his head as he stared up at their blanket ceiling. "...Yeah," He muttered after a beat of comfortable silence. "Guess I am too."

And then, without warning or fanfare whatsoever, he suddenly rolled onto his side to face Coat Guy directly, propping himself up on one elbow like some kind of dramatic Victorian romance novel protagonist.

He wasn’t ready for this. He was never going to be ready for this, not when Theorist looked at him like that, like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, like he wanted nothing more than to study every single little detail about Coat Guy’s existence until it became second nature.

He felt his breath hitch in his chest as their gazes locked onto each other. His fingers twitched against the blanket beneath them before curling into fists so tight they ached from how hard he was gripping himself.

“…Can I rest my head on your lap or something?” He asked softly, voice barely above a whisper because if he spoke any louder then there might just be an actual chance of something happening here and frankly? That terrified him more than anything else ever has before.

Theorist’s eyes widened comically, his entire face immediately flushing a deep shade of red as he stammered for words.

"W-WHAT?! I MEAN— YES? NO?? MAYBE?!" He babbled before suddenly clapping both hands over his own mouth in horror at the outburst.

After a few seconds of panicked silence (and possibly considering just throwing himself into the nearest wall to spare himself further embarrassment), Theorist very slowly lowered them again with an awkward cough.

"...I would like that.” He admitted quietly instead, straightening out his legs a bit.

In any other circumstance, this probably would've seemed hilarious, to see such a normally put-together guy be reduced to a stuttering fool just by the thought of another man resting against his thighs.

But at the moment, all Coat Guy could think about was how good it would feel. How warm and comfortable and wonderful it would feel to rest his head on those warm thighs and just close his eyes and relax for once in his unlife.

He shifted closer, slowly lowering himself until his head came into contact with Theorist’s lap.

Theorist tensed instinctively, his entire body going stiff for a split second. His gaze lowered, a strange look in his eyes as he hesitantly began fiddling with a loose string on the other man's jacket.

Coat Guy felt himself tense up too, but not for the same reason. He was just waiting to see if Theorist would push him away. His eyes flickered down at the way his fingers were fiddling, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth beneath the scarf.

"…You're really warm," He murmured after a moment of silence between them. "Like, stupidly so." He shifted slightly, closing his eyes.

Theorist hummed in agreement, his fingers now trailing along the collar of Coat Guy's coat. His touch was cautious almost. Gentle, like he was terrified that the slightest wrong move would shatter whatever they currently had going on.

“I suppose we should probably try to get some sleep…”

Coat Guy didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want this moment to end. "Yeah," he mumbled, voice barely audible. "We should."

But he made no move to get up, no move at all, really. Just stayed where he was with Theorist's fingers tangled in the fabric of his coat collar like it was some kind of lifeline keeping him grounded here and now instead of lost somewhere else entirely.

“Thought you said sleep was a government myth..?”

Theorist froze for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh, reaching up to push his glasses back up his nose. "Okay, first of all—" He began, sounding mildly offended. "—it's a government conspiracy. There's a difference. It’s just a… theory.”

Coat Guy let out a quiet snort, shaking his head slightly against Theorist’s lap. "Oh my god, you are the biggest nerd," He muttered, but there was no real bite to it, just amusement and something else warmer underneath.

He shifted again just enough to peer up at him with one eye cracked open beneath the scarf. "...But I am going to sleep, regardless of your little conspiracy…”

"Hey! I take offense to that statement!" Theorist protested indignantly, poking him weakly in the forehead. "Being a nerd is a compliment, you jerk." He opened his mouth to say more, but a yawn suddenly interrupted him and cut his argument short. He blinked, covering his mouth as he realized just how tired he actually was.

"...Fine, fine. We’ll both sleep." He muttered begrudgingly, sinking back slightly.

Coat Guy grinned— finally, he got the guy to admit defeat, before settling back down properly. He let his eyes drift shut again, this time for good. "Knew you’d cave eventually," He mumbled smugly into the fabric of Theorist's pants. "Goodnight… nerd."

Theorist huffed, rolling his eyes, but there was a soft smile playing on his lips that betrayed his amusement. "Yeah, yeah, goodnight, you frozen popsicle." He retorted quietly.

Chapter Text

The following morning was rather… unfortunate.

Coat Guy was woken by someone entering the kitchen and opening the fridge, bumping into one of the chairs. He instinctively sat up from his resting position on Theorist’s lap to poke his head out from behind their fort.

Two long legs stood over him like skyscrapers, causing Coat Guy to jolt back and strain his neck as he gazed up to meet Bar Guy’s tired eyes that made him appear rather curious.

“….Uh, you’ve been busy?” He questioned with a beer can in hand.

Coat Guy’s entire face burned red as he scrambled backward, nearly tripping over the blankets in his haste to put some distance between himself and Theorist.. who was still asleep, thank god.

He wiped at his scarf like it could somehow erase the last five seconds of utter humiliation before clearing his throat awkwardly. "Yeah," he croaked out. "Real busy."

Bar Guy just smirked around a sip of beer and walked off without another word, which was probably for the best because Coat Guy might actually die if this got any more embarrassing than it already was.

He scurried out from beneath the blankets as something meaty caught his attention, whiffing through the air and down the hallway. It was a familiar scent, of course.

Somebody died last night.

Coat Guy glanced back at Theorist's sleeping form, weighing his options as he deliberated on what he should do. Should he wake him up? Or just find the body himself…?

…He sighed inwardly and went for the second option. He’d just find the body himself and deal with it. Besides, Theorist needed the rest.

He stood up straight, brushing himself off before silently slipping out from the blankets and out the kitchen door.

He followed the delicious stench all the way over to the bathroom, where the Widow and her husband's corpse originally were.

Instead of one body, there were now two. The woman looked nearly unrecognizable with most of her face gnawed off and guts splattered all over the floor. Her husband’s corpse had remained untouched, probably due to the fact that Visitors didn’t usually eat their own kind… dead or not.

There were only so many guests currently in the house, most of them already confirmed to be human.

He placed his bets on the mysterious man in the office, the one who deemed himself immortal. That guy was the only other Visitor he knew of that wasn’t docile, to his knowledge.

Coat Guy let out a shaky sigh, running a hand through his greasy hair in frustration before turning to head back to the kitchen. He had to find Theorist and let him know about this new development before anything more could happen.

He returned quickly, slipping back under the blankets beside the man on the floor before shaking him awake gently. "Hey…" He murmured. "Hey, get up… rise and shine, there’s uh… been a little bit of an incident.”

Theorist jolted awake with a startled noise, his glasses askew and hair sticking up in every direction as he blinked groggily at Coat Guy.

"Wha—? Huh?!" He garbled out sleepily before finally processing the words. His expression shifted from confusion to sudden alarm as he scrambled upright so fast that it probably gave him vertigo.

"What kind of incident?" He asked immediately, already scrambling for his notes on the table even though he wasn’t sure if this was a research-related problem or not. "A parasite sighting? A government drone attack?? Did someone finally realize that potato chips are fake and try to overthrow FEMA??"

…This guy was a mess in the morning, wasn’t he? All sleepy and disheveled, eyes all blurry and half-shut, hair all over the place… cute.

"No, no, no," Coat Guy whispered urgently, gently catching the other man's wrist to stop him before he ended up collapsing over the table. "No, uh… none of that. But, the Widow in the bathroom did get eaten last night.. at some point.”

Theorist's expression instantly went from groggy confusion to sheer panic. He grabbed his glasses and shoved them back onto his face properly, squinting at Coat Guy as if trying to confirm that this wasn't just some bizarre dream.

"The Widow?! The one who was crying about her husband yesterday?" His voice cracked slightly in horror before he abruptly turned toward the kitchen door like a man ready for war. "Okay- okay! We need evidence. Did you see anything?? Was it that Bar Guy?! I always knew he smelled like trouble!"

He was already scribbling frantically on one of their many notes with shaky hands, muttering under his breath about “possible parasite vectors” and “FEMA involvement.”

Coat Guy stared at him for a long, long moment before slowly reaching out and gently prying the pen from Theorist’s fingers. "…No," he said firmly, his voice low but steady. "It wasn't Bar Guy, trust me. Despite his personality, he’s… alright.”

He reassured with a small nod. “He’s the first guest to ever step foot into the house, meaning he would’ve been taken out by now if he was a Visitor. And plus, he’s shown me small acts of kindness throughout my stay here… like sharing his body heat with me.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought back to that pleasant night.

Theorist paused mid-panic, blinking at him with wide eyes as the other man set aside his pen. "W-Wait… you know he’s not a Visitor?" He asked slowly, leaning in slightly like this was some groundbreaking revelation that had just been dropped on him out of nowhere. "How do you—?"

His expression suddenly shifted into one of realization before morphing into something resembling excitement. "...Oh my god." He whispered breathlessly. "You're the investigator here. This entire time, YOU’VE been using your smart detective skills to keep us all safe!” He declared.

Coat Guy choked on his own breath, nearly coughing up a lung as he scrambled to backtrack. "N-No! I mean—yes? But no!" He stammered out in panic, waving his hands frantically like that would somehow erase the last five seconds of conversation from existence. "I-I just… know things! Visitor instincts!! Yeah!!”

His voice cracked halfway through the word “instincts,” and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die right then and there because what kind of excuse was that???

He shot Theorist an awkward thumbs-up before promptly shoving both hands under his scarf so they couldn’t betray him any further by trembling violently.

“…And uh, I think I might know who the culprit is.”

Theorist’s face went blank for a solid five seconds before he suddenly lurched forward, grabbing him by the shoulders with an almost manic intensity.

"YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW," He hissed urgently, shaking him slightly.. but not enough to hurt. "This is life-or-death information! Is it someone we trust?! Someone dangerous?! IS IT A MOLE MAN!?”

"NO- no, no, no! It's not— that’s not even real!" Coat Guy yelped out in horror before taking a deep breath to steady himself. "It's just... you know that weird guy who stays locked up in the office all day? The one who keeps saying he can't die because he’s 'immortal' or whatever? Actually, i’m not even sure if you’re aware of his presence or not since he hasn’t left that room since his arrival…”

He swallowed hard. "...Yeahhhh… I think it might be him. And before you start pointing fingers at anyone else, I have seen proof with my own eyes.”

Theorist's expression shifted from wild-eyed panic to an intense look of seriousness, all of his previous questions forgotten as he listened carefully to every word the other man had to say.

"Proof. Proof?" He echoed, releasing his grip on Coat Guy's shoulders. "What kind of proof? Do you- how did you… prove it?" He pressed, leaning in again like a dog on a scent trail.

Coat Guy hesitated for a moment before exhaling sharply, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. "Okay- so," he started quietly, keeping his voice low just in case the immortal guy was lurking nearby. "I may or may not have seen a bug crawl out of his ear last night when I poked my head into the room.”

Theorist’s entire body went rigid, his face paling slightly. "...A bug," He repeated slowly, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. "Like… a parasite." His hands twitched at his sides before suddenly flying up to grip Coat Guy's shoulders again, this time more gently than before but with equal urgency.

"We have to get rid of him." He whispered harshly like they were two crazies conspiring against an evil overlord (which was technically accurate).

"...A bug crawled out of that guy's ear and your instinct was to just... keep that little tidbit of information to yourself?!"

Coat Guy winced, avoiding the other man's intense gaze because yeah, he knew he could've handled this situation better. He felt his face begin to heat up, embarrassment rising hot and thick in his throat like bile as he tried to pull away with another strangled noise.

"I know," He whispered right back. "I should have said something last night… I’m sorry. It was stupid. I just didn’t want to ruin what we had g-going on, I guess.”

Theorist's expression softened slightly, though the urgency in his eyes remained.

"You're forgiven… for now," He muttered, finally releasing his shoulders as he took a step back to run a hand through his messy hair, a nervous habit of his. "But we… we need to figure out what to do about all of this." He glanced around the kitchen nervously as if expecting the immortal guy to come crashing through the door like some horror movie monster any second now.

Coat Guy breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, rubbing at the skin where he had been gripped so fervently just a moment ago. “I’ll just tell the homeowner about him and he’ll… take care of him.” He explained with a weak shrug.

Theorist nodded in agreement, his gaze still flitting around the room like a terrified animal before he suddenly caught himself and forced his eyes to meet Coat Guy's again. "...Right. Yeah. That sounds like a plan." He muttered, though there was a hint of hesitation lacing his voice now, like something else was weighing on his mind that wasn't related to this.

Coat Guy noticed the change in his demeanor almost immediately, his head tilting curiously to the side with a confused hum as he scrutinized every little bit of the other man's face.

"…You good?" He asked after a moment. "You look like you’re a million miles away all of a sudden.”

Theorist tensed again at the question, blinking owlishly at him before his expression became a picture of forced nonchalance. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He replied too quickly, the words stumbling out of his mouth a little too fast to be believable.

“It’s just, well, last night could’ve gone so much worse than what I had originally assumed.”

Coat Guy’s entire body locked up at that.

"…What?" He managed after a moment of silence stretched too long between them, voice small and uncertain now because oh god… had he done something wrong? Something bad?

“You’re realizing that you could’ve.. died last night?” He asked slowly.

Theorist let out a weak, shaky laugh before finally meeting Coat Guy's gaze again, his expression unreadable for a moment before he just looked away entirely.

"...Not me," He admitted quietly. "I was thinking more about you." His fingers twitched at his sides like they wanted to reach out and grab onto something but weren’t quite sure if that would be allowed.

Coat Guy felt his heart drop like a lead weight.

…Me?

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small in this moment, like he was nothing more than some fragile thing Theorist was terrified of breaking without even realizing it himself.

"I—" He started before stopping abruptly when he realized that no matter what words came out of his mouth right now, they wouldn’t change anything because deep down? He knew exactly why the guy looked so worried all of a sudden.

"...You don't have to worry about me," He murmured after another long pause between them both where neither spoke but everything still needed saying out loud. “I’m tougher than I seem, despite my b-brittle bones.”

Theorist's gaze flicked over to him again, his jaw clenching momentarily as if that statement had somehow personally offended him. He looked almost pissed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides while his entire body remained rigid.

"That's not the point," He replied quietly, his voice low and strained. "It doesn't matter how 'tough' you are. You could've still gotten hurt, or worse.”

Coat Guy wanted to argue, wanted to say that it was fine, that this wasn’t anything new for him… but the way Theorist looked at him now made it impossible. Like if he even tried lying right now, it would shatter something between them both irreparably.

So instead of fighting back? He just… stopped.

His shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of realization as silence stretched on once more.

How could he reassure him without outright exposing himself as one of them? He knew that if he told him right now, Theorist would only freak out and potentially have him killed.

He extended one hand to place on the man’s shoulder, mustering up a genuine look. “Just… trust me on this, okay? I’ll be fine, no matter what comes into this house.”

Theorist swallowed hard, studying the other man's face intently in an attempt to search for any hint of falsehood. But Coat Guy’s gaze was steady, completely sincere and just the slightest bit earnest.

"...Promise?" He whispered after what felt like an eon, sounding more like a lost child than a fully grown man who was supposed to be a genius with more than enough common sense.

Coat Guy nodded without hesitation, squeezing the shoulder he was still holding.

"Cross my heart. Hope to die." He responded, giving him a grin that showed his perfect, white teeth because no matter what happened from this moment onward, this was one promise he wasn't planning on breaking anytime soon. "Anything that gets in, I'll kick its ass. Deal? Just… have a little faith in me here, yeah?"

Theorist hesitated for just a second longer before finally letting out an exaggerated sigh and nodding back at him.

"...Fine. But if you get eaten by some government-made parasite, I will be rightfully upset." He grumbled halfheartedly, his tone laced with something that sounded suspiciously like fondness despite the threat behind it all.

Coat Guy felt his chest tighten. He would be upset. and for some reason, that thought made him want to pull Theorist into a hug so badly it physically ached.

But he settled for just ruffling his hair instead, because if there was ever a time when he needed an excuse to touch this guy without making things weird? It was now.

"Deal," He murmured with another small grin. "Now c'mon… let’s go tell the homeowner about that immortal freak before he decides to eat anyone else.”

"Alright, alright," The older man grumbled, finally shoving Coat Guy's hand away from his head and trying to smooth down the messy strands that were now sticking up in every direction imaginable. "Let’s go snitch on this guy immediately."

Coat Guy watched as the homeowner’s jaw visibly tightened upon hearing the news, already mildly upset from being woken up so early in the morning. He had his shotgun in hand when the man stomped down the hallway and entered the office, slamming the door shut behind him as an argument full of shouting began.

For once, Coat Guy actually felt somewhat bad about snitching, the sound of shouting and cussing getting louder and louder behind the wall.

He sighed, rubbing the top of his head like a nervous tick as he slumped against the hallway and tried to drown the entire argument out. It felt like the walls would begin shaking at any moment, the shouting growing more and more intense by the minute.

When did he become the good guy, exactly? The last thing on his mind was ever doing the right thing.. until now apparently…

He saw Theorist flinch beside him as a loud shot rang out, rumbling through the walls before everything went quiet.

The silence was deafening, heavy with the unspoken weight of what had just happened inside that room. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or sick.

His fingers twitched against his scarf before he finally forced himself to look over at Theorist, whose expression mirrored everything he was feeling right now.

"…Guess we're safe for tonight," he murmured weakly after another beat passed between them both.

Theorist nodded slowly in agreement, his gaze still fixed on the office door like he was expecting a surprise comeback from the Immortal Guy, even though they both knew that was literally impossible now.

But he shook his head after another moment, as if to snap himself out of his daze, and finally met Coat Guy's gaze again. "Yeah," He mumbled. "We're okay for now." He sounded like he was more assuring himself than anything else.

Coat Guy exhaled shakily, stepping closer just enough so that their shoulders brushed together in silent solidarity. "We’re okay."

A pause stretched between them before Coat Guy finally dared to tilt his head down just enough so his forehead rested against the other man’s shoulder like some kind of exhausted surrender.

The homeowner finally stepped out of the office, wiping blood off his shotgun barrel with an exhausted sigh as he passed them by without another word. Probably off to go get cleaning supplies from the kitchen.

Theorist blinked in surprise, freezing for just a second before hesitantly lifting one hand to awkwardly pat the other man on the back like they were some kind of supportive duo. "...You alright?" He whispered quietly, mostly because his voice was still a little shaky from everything that had happened over the last few minutes.

The feeling of Theorist's warm, gentle touch against the back of his coat made his entire world tilt on its axis. He wasn't used to being taken care of… ever. It had been far too long since he felt this vulnerable in the presence of someone else- and for better or for worse? He'd missed it.

He exhaled another shuddering breath, shaking his head slowly against the other man's shoulder because no, he wasn't.

"…Not really. Hardly ever anymore.”

A sad, small chuckle left Theorist’s lips. "....You and me both, huh..." He whispered under his breath, his eyes closing momentarily as he leaned into the touch.

Coat Guy tightened his grip on Theorist's shirt just slightly, pressing closer as if trying to physically fuse himself into the warmth of the other man’s presence like some kind of desperate lifeline.

"...Guess we're both screwed," He mumbled against him with a weak attempt at humor that fell flat almost immediately because they both knew damn well there was no joke here left to make anymore.

Silence settled between them again for another long moment before he finally dared to speak up again. “Do you wanna maybe… go back to the kitchen and uh.. ramble about whatever new theory you’ve been working on to me?”

Theorist let out a shaky laugh, his fingers curling into the colder man’s coat subconsciously. "Yes, please," He answered almost instantly, sounding like he would rather do anything than keep standing here in the hallway like this at the moment.

"I'd, uh… I need to take my mind off of everything for a while."

Coat Guy nodded, reluctantly pulling away just enough to grab Theorist’s hand and tug him toward the kitchen. "Good," He murmured with a small smile, one that was almost genuine despite everything. "Because I have questions about this whole government conspiracy theory of yours." He shot him a playful look over his shoulder as they walked.

Theorist huffed indignantly at that, rolling his eyes again despite the small grin on his lips. "Of course you do," He muttered before shoving his free hand back into his pocket. "Everyone always questions my theories! But my words are the truth and nothing but the truth!”

"Uh- huh," Coat Guy snorted, his smile growing more genuine as the tension from earlier slowly began to fade. "And I'm supposed to just take your word for that?"

He watched as the homeowner came out of the kitchen with cleaning supplies in hand, walking past them stiffly as he led Theorist into the room calmly.

Theorist huffed dramatically at the accusation, crossing his arms in protest even as he stepped into the kitchen. "Yes! You are supposed to take my word for it, actually, thanks for asking!" He replied, sounding almost offended as he made his way over to the table and immediately plopped down into the closest chair.

Coat Guy raised his hands in surrender, still sporting that same sarcastic smile as he took his own seat across from the other man. "Don't get your nerd glasses in a twist, buddy," He huffed in feigned offense in return, leaning back to get comfortable. "I'm just playing with you. Let me guess- I'm a 'dumb, idiotic meathead' to you, right?"

Theorist gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense as he glared at him. "Excuse you," He retorted indignantly. "I would never call you that! You're just... a mildly confused but still intelligent human who hasn't seen the light yet!"

Coat Guy’s smirk faltered for just a split second at the word human—but he quickly recovered, shaking his head as if to dismiss it entirely. "Wow," He deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. "That might be the nicest insult I've ever gotten."

He leaned forward slightly then, resting both elbows on the table with a raised brow. "...So? What's this big 'light' you're talking about then? Spill."

Theorist sighed dramatically, mirroring the other man's pose and crossing his arms with an exasperated expression. "You are so rude, I swear," He grumbled before taking a deep breath and finally getting down to business. "...Alright, so first thing's first. I'm assuming you already know about the government's constant surveillance of our lives, right?" He started cautiously.

Coat Guy blinked at him for a moment before letting out an amused snort.

"Oh wow, we're jumping straight into the deep end, huh?" He teased, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "Yeahhhh… I’ve heard that one before."

He propped his chin up on one hand, watching Theorist with mild amusement as he waited for whatever conspiracy theory was about to come pouring out of his mouth next, because honestly? This guy could talk all day and it would still be hilarious.

Chapter Text

Well, there’s a cat in the house now.

An orange tabby by the looks of it, maybe around four or five years old. An odd looking lady brought it in, saying something about how the cat needed to be here or something. Whatever it was seemed to make perfect sense to the homeowner because he let her right inside and showed her to the living room.

She called herself a ballerina as her body twisted and turned inhumanly, like she didn’t have any joints that stopped her from turning too much. She could just keep going and going and going, her entire body taking on the shape of a knot. She clearly wasn’t human, so… why did the homeowner let her in??

Coat Guy’s train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing him by the shoulder and yoinking him into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him quickly. “A-Ah! What are y— oh…” His nerves died down some as he suddenly found himself in front of Theorist, who looked… well, pretty panicked.

"...We have a problem." He stated in a low voice, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the kitchen door was indeed closed completely.

For half a second, Coat Guy was ready to make a comment about just how many problems they had- but the look on Theorist's face was enough to shut him up almost instantly. He swallowed hard, pushing back against the counter as he met Theorist's gaze with wide eyes.

"...Is this about the cat lady..?"

“No, it’s actually a bit humid in here and— OF COURSE I’M TALKING ABOUT THAT WALKING ABOMINATION!” Theorist exclaimed through clenched teeth as he shook Coat Guy by his shoulders.

Coat Guy cringed in response to the sudden shouting, quickly grabbing Theorist by the wrists and gently trying to pry his hands off of him. "I was kidding, I was— ow, Jesus..!" He hissed out as Theorist's grip on him tightened. "...Could you, uh, maybe stop squeezing me for a second there? I think my shoulders are gonna pop loose—"

Theorist pressed a finger to his lips in a shhh motion, glancing nervously back at the door before turning his attention fully on Coat Guy.

"Okay.. okay, listen," He whispered urgently, hands flailing slightly as he tried to get the words out fast enough. "That ballerina lady? She's not just any random Visitor, she’s special. Like... ‘possibly-important-to-the-government-in-a-bad-way’ special." His voice dropped even lower into something conspiratorial and horrified.

"And she brought a cat with her! That cat could already be chipped by the government!”

Coat Guy squinted at him in return, shoulders relaxing as he slowly pieced together where this conversation was headed. “Okay, uh, let’s back up a bit.” He held up both hands, slightly shaky but that was natural for his case. “Why exactly d-do you think she’s working with the uh.. government?”

Theorist inhaled sharply through his nose, eyes darting toward the door again before he lowered his voice even further… if that was possible.

"Because normal Visitors don't just waltz in here like they own the place!" He whispered harshly. "They don’t bring pets with them unless there's a reason! And that cat? That thing is too calm for its own good, like it knows something we don't." His fingers twitched nervously at his sides as if resisting the urge to grab Coat Guy by the shoulders again and shake him senseless.

"And then there’s her whole… ‘ballerina’ act," He continued in an accusatory tone, nodding toward where she had disappeared into another room moments ago. "No human could move like that. It defies all laws of physics! Why on earth would the homeowner allow her in?!”

Coat Guy watched as the other man started to get worked up again and instantly placed both hands on his shoulders, gently squeezing them to calm him down. "Woah, woah, hey... relax for a sec, alright?" He urged, using gentle but firm tone to try and snap him out of whatever panic spiral this was about to turn into. "I get it, I get it... you're worried and nervous. I am, too. But you need to breathe before you end up hyperventilating."

Theorist sucked in a deep breath as his shoulders sagged under the other man's hands, the tension in his body slowly but surely fading as he focused on that single point of contact between them.

"Okay…. okay, you're right," He admitted grudgingly, letting out a shaky exhale as he closed his eyes and slumped against Coat Guy in a rare show of weakness. “I just… I don’t understand his angle here, you know? Why bring in someone so clearly dangerous into a house filled with people??”

It had Coat Guy wondering about some things as well. If the homeowner allows certain Visitors into his home… then does that mean he himself won’t be killed if he’s ever outed?

He hesitated for a long moment, his fingers twitching slightly against Theorist’s shoulders before he slowly let go and stepped back with an awkward cough.

“…Maybe there’s a reason he let her in specifically?” He shrugged weakly.

Theorist's eyes snapped open at that, staring up at him with an expression that was equal parts suspicion and curiosity.

"...What do you mean by that?" He pressed slowly, leaning forward slightly as if trying to read the other man's face for any hidden meanings or hints.

Coat Guy sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he avoided Theorist's intense gaze. "I-I mean, that lady is obviously not human, yeah." He agreed quietly, tapping his foot against the floor rapidly like he was trying to burn off excess nervous energy. "But maybe the homeowner has had encounters with someone who knew of her before... her arrival.”

He took a breath to steady his wavering voice, rubbing idly at some dirt on the floor with the tip of his boot. "Maybe... he trusts her. Or maybe he needs something from her.”

Theorist bit his lower lip as he considered the possibility, his gaze never leaving Coat Guy as he silently mulled over every little detail. "...Well, that's a good theory," He conceded reluctantly, sounding like he didn't want to admit it but also seeing the logic in the other man's words. "...but the question is…" He paused, narrowing his eyes as he studied Coat Guy's behavior. "...what exactly do you think he could need from her?"

Coat Guy fidgeted uncomfortably under his intense gaze, shifting awkwardly on his feet as he desperately tried to come up with something reasonable. He couldn't say the truth, that was obvious, but he also couldn't just say nothing… ugh why did he open his goddamn mouth again?

"I uh…" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to shrug nonchalantly again despite the heat that was starting to rise up his neck as he started to internally panic again.

“The cat.” He decided to throw caution to the wind and reveal, not bothering to think about the consequences right now. “Perhaps the cat is… important? Why else would a Visitor be carrying it around?”

Theorist tilted his head slightly, letting the silence stretch on for another moment before finally breaking it himself. "...That's an oddly specific guess," He murmured suspiciously.

Coat Guy cursed internally as the other man's gaze narrowed slightly, struggling to keep from squirming under his intense stare. He could practically feel those calculating eyes tearing him apart; trying to find any signs of deceit or lies in between his words….

He let out an uncertain huff, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging again nonchalantly as he focused on the floor beneath their feet. "Just.. a feeling, you know?" The words tasted like acid on his tongue. “Maybe I’m completely wrong—“

"But maybe you're not," Theorist countered, eyes locked onto Coat Guy like a cat watching its prey. His expression had hardened again as he studied the other man intently. "...and that's what worries me."

He took a step forward suddenly, closing the already small distance between them and forcing Coat Guy to back up slightly in response. "Now… I need you to be completely honest with me here, okay? I mean completely honest." He added in a low tone, holding Coat Guy's gaze.

The colder man attempted to take a half step back again, but the counter was still there and he was effectively trapped. "I.. uh.." He tried, but his mouth had gone dry and his brain felt fuzzy and his voice came out as little more than a strangled whisper. He could feel the other man's gaze bearing down on him, like a hawk ready to pounce.

“Okay…?”

Theorist leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper as he searched Coat Guy's face for any sign of deception.

"Can you.. or can you not… communicate with felines?”

Coat Guy stiffened like he'd been electrocuted, his breath catching in his throat as every muscle locked up at once.

"Wh— what?" He choked out dumbly, blinking rapidly because what kind of question was that??

“You think I can communicate with the fucking cat??” He said incredulously.

"You're avoiding the question," Theorist stated calmly, almost casually, though the tension in his frame was more than enough to suggest he was more suspicious than ever before.

“It’s not avoiding if there's nothing to avoid here!" Coat Guy exclaimed as he threw his arms up. “No, I can’t communicate with them! Because if I could, I would send them over here and use their fur to keep me warm!”

"...Really." Theorist mumbled as he finally leaned back slightly to give Coat Guy some much needed breathing room. But that didn't stop him from studying the other man for a moment longer, as if looking for even the smallest of reactions that would prove his suspicions right.

When he found nothing to confirm anything, he sighed and leaned back even further, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm his still-frayed nerves. "...Right. Sorry. You just..." He hesitated. "You seemed awfully certain about that cat."

Coat Guy exhaled as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to will away a headache that was slowly forming. “I came to that conclusion because… I listened in on the homeowner talking to someone at his door one night. Someone who didn’t want in, but instead wanted to share information.” He explained with a defeated slouch, relieved to feel his body finally relaxing. “The guy said something about a cat.. and that the homeowner needed to let whoever had the cat inside. Apparently, the cat really is special for… some reason.”

Theorist's gaze snapped up as he latched onto every word, a small spark of that familiar fire returning to his eyes as he listened to every last detail. "Did he say anything else that seemed important?" He asked urgently, almost forgetting his previous suspicion. "Anything at all? No matter how trivial it may have sounded?"

"Yeah uh.." Coat Guy furrowed his brows slightly as he tried to wrack his brain for the other details. "As the guy was leaving, he told the homeowner something about.. the cat being able to drive away d-death? Like the animal is some sort of good luck charm or whatever….”

Theorist's eyes widened at that, his fingers twitching as if itching to scribble down every word.

"...That makes so much sense," He breathed out suddenly, almost like an epiphany had just struck him. "It's a countermeasure! The government must've engineered the cat to be some kind of anti-Visitor weapon… something meant to repel or even kill them on contact!" His voice rose in excitement despite himself before he forced himself back into whispering again.

"And now they're sending one here specifically because..." His gaze flickered toward where the orange tabby was presumably still lounging in another room somewhere inside this house before looking back at Coat Guy with sudden intensity.

"This cat might just be the one that that’ll keep us safe.”

Coat Guy stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, trying his hardest not to let any obvious anxiety show on his face, because oh god there was no way in hell that was true, even if it did sound like something the government might do.

He swallowed hard, trying to push back the lump in his throat as he forced himself to speak. "I…" He started, but then he quickly cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah, man. Of course.”

Theorist nodded enthusiastically, clearly missing the way Coat Guy's shoulders had tensed at his conclusion, or maybe he was just too caught up in his own excitement to notice. "Exactly! That explains everything. The homeowner isn’t stupid, he wouldn't just let some random Visitor walk in here unless she was carrying something important," He muttered before suddenly grabbing onto Coat Guy’s sleeve with a sudden burst of manic energy.

"...We need to watch that cat."

It took a conscious amount of effort for Coat Guy not to flinch away at the sudden contact, but he quickly nodded along to Theorists rambling, despite feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

"Of course," He found himself saying, eyes locked on the hand fisting the fabric of his shirt. "We need to.. keep an eye out, yeah."

Theorist nodded again, finally noticing that his hand was currently clutching Coat Guy's sleeve in a vice-like grip, and quickly let go, a small hint of embarrassment flaring up from somewhere under his excitement.

"Right," He continued, running a hand through his hair again as he began to pace in a slow circle around Coat Guy instead. "...We should take turns keeping watch over it tonight. You know, just in case."

Coat Guy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before forcing a small but confident smile. "Right," he echoed, "yeah, we can do that." He agreed with a confident nod, despite feeling like his knees were going to buckle under him at any second.

Theorist didn't seem to notice his nervous demeanor, or if he did, he simply dismissed it as paranoia over their situation. His focus was solely on their new plan now. "Excellent," He said with another sharp nod before coming to a stop again and turning to face Coat Guy head on. "...you up for the first watch?"

Coat Guy hesitated for just a moment, his eyes darting uneasily around the kitchen like he was searching the empty space for some escape route. Of course he wasn’t going to find one, there never was one to begin with… so he took a slow shaky breath and nodded.

"Y-yeah, sure." He agreed, forcing another weak smile. "I'll take the first watch."

Chapter Text

Coat Guy didn’t take in account of the other person the homeowner let in that same night, which was a hefty looking woman who called herself “Big Momma”. She held a southern accent, indicating that she probably wasn’t from around these parts and was most likely just visiting the state before things went to shit.

Anyway, he got a pretty good introduction to her when the woman approached the kitchen in the dead of night, hardly making a sound with her footsteps. Any normal person wouldn’t have even noticed her presence, but thankfully… Coat Guy wasn’t exactly normal or a person. His senses perked up the minute she rounded that corner in the hallway, grabbing his attention. Theorist was asleep in their little fort on the ground, snoring into his arm.

Yes, they were actually going through with the whole “taking shifts” thing. It wasn’t like Coat Guy needed the sleep anyway. And it was a good thing it wasn’t Theorist’s turn to keep watch, otherwise this night could’ve taken a turn for the worse.

The kitchen door slowly creaked open, darkness being the only thing visible on the other side at first before a pair of glowing red eyes made themselves known as their pupils expanded slowly.

He let out a short, shaky breath, staring directly into those glowing red eyes as the woman stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind herself.

Neither party moved, simply staring at each other silently as if trying to gauge the other’s intention.

“Now, what exactly is your game here, boy?” Her thick accent slurred lowly, saliva dribbling from the corner of her mouth as she momentarily looked down to see Theorist’s sleeping form. “Didn’t your momma ever teach you not to play with your food?”

Coat Guy didn't flinch, his own expression unreadable despite the slight tremor in his hands. "...My momma taught me to eat what's put on my plate," he replied flatly, staring right back into those glowing red eyes with an eerie calmness that would've sent any sane person running. “He’s not on my plate, and never will be.”

A slow smirk curled at the corner of Big Momma’s lips as she took another step forward, her massive frame practically filling up half the doorway as she loomed over him like some kind of grotesque predator. “And exactly just how long will you keep telling yourself that, boy? Everyone’s gotta eat eventually, even monsters like you and I.”

Coat Guy clenched his jaw, the only outward sign of tension as he leaned back slightly in his chair—putting just a bit more distance between them. “…You're real confident for someone who isn't even sure what I am yet," he muttered under his breath before forcing himself to relax again with a small shrug. "But fine, whatever helps you sleep at night."

The woman let out a quiet chuckle, snorting. “Oh, I know exactly what you are. I can feel our connection, what makes us think alike. At the end of the day, we both need the same thing to survive.” She whispered, her feet inching closer towards the blanket fort. “Eventually, you’re gonna have to eat… one way or another.”

Coat Guy tensed again, his eyes briefly darting in Theorist's direction before immediately flicking back up to the woman who had creeped just a bit too close for his liking. "We're different," He insisted firmly, eyes narrowing as he focused his full attention back on the threat in front of him. "I'm not like you."

The woman shook her head slowly, smiling wider. “Not completely, no. I reckon i’d never keep around a free meal for as long as you have. Soon he’ll grow stale, and then someone else will come by to swallow down whatever is left of him.” Her nasty, fungus smelling fingernails grew longer in size as she extended a hand out to grab the blanket covering Theorist. “Might as well be Momma!”

"Don't. Touch. Him." He shot up out of his seat without warning, immediately positioning himself between her and Theorist as if to physically block any possible way she might've had to get to him. "I'll kill you before I let you anywhere near him, you hear me?"

Big Momma let out a hearty chuckle, her pupils morphing into dozens of smaller ones like she herself was a hivemind wearing someone else’s flesh. “Ohhhh boy! I haven’t participated in a good ol’ showdown in a long ass time!” She lunged forward, whacking her forehead against his own violently to send him stumbling back before slicing at his right arm with her deadly fingernails.

"Son of a—" He grunted before throwing himself to the side to avoid getting sliced at again. The movement made his injured arm scream painfully, but he ignored the pain for the moment and focused on the crazy Visitor trying to gut him like a fish. He grabbed the closest thing nearby, a frying pan, and swung it hard toward her.

The woman grunted loudly as the metal landed directly on her head, yet her body remained unmoved as a huge dent in the pan formed like someone had smacked a boulder with it instead of a human skull. “Thanks for the wakeup call, boy!” She hissed, yanking the pan from his cold grasp before bending it into two.

The strength and speed this woman possessed was terrifying, and it was taking a much bigger hit on his confidence than he would've liked. Coat Guy barely had time to react before she was already on him, her massive hands gripping the front of his coat as she lifted him up off the ground like he weighed nothing at all.

"Put me—down, you psycho bitch!" He snarled, kicking out violently in an attempt to get free again despite knowing damn well that it probably wouldn't do much against someone like her.

“Now why on earth would I do such a thing? You’re just as bad as those vermin in yellow outside these walls! You’re a traitor amongst our kind!” Big Momma seethed, changing her grip on his coat to grab the bottom half instead. “I’m doing creatures like us a favor by getting rid of you….”

Coat Guy’s fingers dug into the fabric of his coat in an attempt to rip it free from her grip, only for a sickening tear sound to fill the air as she finally yanked him forward with enough force that seams burst and buttons went flying.

The bottom half of his turtleneck came lifting up just enough to expose what he had been hiding from everyone this whole time, a burden stuck to his corpse that kept him cold and numb. The deep dark abyss that had replaced his stomach so long ago spiraled quickly, resembling a black hole of sorts as it began to suck Big Momma in without mercy.

“O-Oh lord! What the hell!?” She exclaimed, struggling to back herself up as her entire body went flying forward headfirst into the void, muffling her screams.

Coat Guy fell to the ground with a hard thud, letting out a pained grunt as the air got knocked out of his lungs. He coughed harshly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear the daze that formed in his head from the impact.

He yanked down his shirt and jacket quickly, a warm liquid coating his fingers as he touched the fabric. His gaze snapped forward, staring down at the bottom half of what remained of Big Momma. He must’ve covered the hole too quickly, that or his body just couldn’t consume all of her.

His gaze immediately snapped towards Theorist, only to find the man still laying knocked out on the ground, peacefully sleeping despite everything that was going on. Coat Guy felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was quickly replaced by a much more meaner wave of dizziness that made him sway where he sat. "Oh.." He breathed out weakly, his head suddenly feeling like it was spinning much too fast for his own good.

Right… consuming Visitor meat probably wasn’t good for him.

He winced as another wave of pain rolled through him, letting out a low hiss. He clenched his eyes shut as the world began to spin around him, black dots filling the edges of his vision. It was getting harder to think straight, his thoughts and focus growing more and more fuzzy.

He forced himself up to wobbly feet, making a beeline for the bathroom without paying any mind to the moving form that was surely waking up as he exited the room.

He slammed the door open, almost stumbling before catching himself on the bathroom counter and dropping to his knees before hunching over the toilet. Everything felt like it was spinning too fast, too wildly, and he could feel bile rising in the back of his throat. He leaned over the bowl and retched into the water, his head spinning as he felt his stomach twisting painfully.

"F-F.." He started before another fit of coughing cut him off, causing him to lean even further over the toilet and grip the edges of the bowl tightly in trembling hands.

His stomach cramped painfully as he vomited up more bile into the toilet, the foul taste making his throat burn. It took a few more painful retches and heaves before he could even manage to bring his head back up, gasping desperately for air that was so hard to find.

He collapsed backwards, the cold tile floor feeling like a godsend against his burning skin. He lay there for a few moments, shaking like a leaf and panting heavily in pain as the nausea slowly started to pass.

His surroundings suddenly grew darker as someone stood over him.

"A-Are you alright?!" Theorist exclaimed as he quickly knelt down on the cold floor next to him, frantic concern etched into his once sleeping expression. “I-I woke up from the smell of s-something rancid and found half a body on the kitchen floor! W-What happened..?!”

Coat Guy stared at him for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts, his breath still coming in shallow pants. He shook his head weakly as he tried to find the words, but before he could respond he started coughing again, pain coursing through him as his stomach twisted in agony. He groaned loudly as he leaned forward, curling in on himself and burying his head against his knees.

"..N-Not.. alright—" He choked out between gasps. He was struggling to think of a lie to tell him, one that didn’t involve what was beneath his clothes. “I-… fought a Visitor. She was gonna… attack you.”

Theorist's eyes widened even further, his face paling slightly as he stared down at him in horror. "She—?!" He started to say, but then stopped himself when another wave of pain visibly wracked through the other man's body. “Oh god— okay.. okay just… hold on," He stammered urgently, reaching out instinctively before hesitating and pulling his hand back again like touching him might make things worse. "D-Do you need water? Or- or food??”

Coat Guy took another deep shuddering breath, slowly shaking his head at the barrage of questions. He could feel his strength steadily declining the more Theorist panicked. He was already feeling weak as is, but having to hold back the truth while also trying to keep his food down? It was almost too much to handle.

"..Just.. don't touch me," he muttered in answer, his shoulders hunching forward even more as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen as if trying to soothe the pain there. “It’ll… pass.”

Theorist bit his lip anxiously as he sat back and nodded. "O-Okay, alright just… just breathe, you're alright," He murmured, unable to help how his hands still fidgeted nervously against his jeans. His eyes remained fixed intently on the other man in an attempt to see if there were any visible signs of injury. “Did she h-hurt you..? I see blood on your arm…”

He gritted his teeth, trying to force himself to breathe properly through the pain. It wasn't easy, and he couldn't keep a small whimper of pain from slipping out.

He glanced down at his arm, grimacing at the way the sleeve of his turtleneck stuck to his skin where red was already soaking through the fabric. "She… nicked me a little," he forced out between clenched teeth. "Her fingernails were sharp.”

"Little?! That—that is not little!" Theorist exclaimed, scrambling to grab a nearby towel from the sink counter and pressing it against Coat Guy's injured arm with way too much force. "We need to clean this! And—and get you some actual medical supplies!" His voice cracked slightly as panic fully set in now.

He didn't even register how his own hands were shaking until one accidentally brushed against Coat Guy’s wrist, causing him to flinch violently and pull back again like he'd been burned. "...S-Sorry."

Even the slightest touch was painful, shooting pure agony through Coat Guy’s entire body, and it was taking all of his strength just to keep still and keep his other secret hidden. "It's f..fine," he hissed out, trying to keep the pain out of his tone as he fought not to jerk away. "..Hurts, but i’m.. not dying.."

Theorist’s jaw clenched at that, clearly not believing him for a second.

"Not dying?! That.. that is not the bar we should be setting here!" He hissed back, pressing down harder on the wound in some misguided attempt to 'stop it from bleeding more'. "You're literally leaking out of your arm like a busted pipe! This isn't fine—this isn't even close to fine!"

His voice cracked again as he finally realized just how much blood was actually soaking into that towel, and how little of it seemed to be stopping despite his best efforts. "...Oh god."

"Goddamn it, that... hurts.” Coat Guy groaned through clenched teeth, his entire arm trembling beneath the pressure of the towel as his breathing picked up in speed. Blood continued to soak through the fabric, staining it a deep red as it slowly saturated the entire towel.

He knew how to regenerate relatively quickly, and he also knew why the pain hurt so much. He hadn’t eaten properly in a while. Therefore, his body was weak and far more vulnerable than it was supposed to be. Despite everything, Big Momma was right in the end. He needed to consume human meat at some point, otherwise his wounds will never heal.

He groaned again, the pain only growing worse as Theorist pressed down harder. His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of consuming human meat, his own body had just rejected part of a Visitor minutes ago. His vision blurred slightly from exhaustion and pain as he slumped against the toilet bowl once more, his breath coming in short gasps now.

"N-No… I'll be fine," He muttered weakly between gritted teeth before coughing violently again into his sleeve, a small speckle of blood appearing there when he pulled it back away from him with wide eyes.

"...Shit."

His body ached as it lunged forward, mouth opening wide as chunks of pink and red came spilling out violently into the toilet bowl. His “stomach” couldn’t handle what it had consumed, and so it went and spit it back out via his mouth instead.

Theorist's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, a strangled noise escaping him as he watched in horror. “I-Is that meat?! When did you eat meat!?" He blurted out, scrambling up to his feet so fast that he almost tripped over himself in the process. "I-I need bandages! And—and alcohol! Or—or salt or something!!" His voice cracked again as panic fully set in now.

He bolted for the bathroom door, nearly tripping over himself. “I-I remember seeing medicine up on top of the fridge! I’ll go check and see what the homeowner has!” He explained himself quickly before exiting the small room.

Coat Guy watched him go with half-lidded eyes, the pain and exhaustion making it harder to focus. He groaned as another wave of nausea rolled through him, his stomach still trying to expel whatever remained inside it despite how empty he already felt.

His hands trembled where they rested on his knees, nails digging into his own skin in a desperate attempt not to pass out right then and there. "...Fuck," he muttered weakly before coughing again. His head perked up at the sound of someone knocking from somewhere, a familiar sound that comes around every night. Although it is pretty late for a guest to be looking for shelter…

For some reason, he found himself slowly standing to his feet to go answer it with whatever energy he suddenly had left. It felt like he was being pulled by something, beckoned by a new scent that was coming from the front door.

He stumbled to the front door like some sort of drunken zombie, the dizziness in his head making it hard to walk straight. His fingers gripped the handle as he pulled the door open to see a man in a blue suit standing on the porch, a startled look appearing on his face as he stepped back cautiously. “G-Good evening, young man. I was wondering if—“

Coat Guy lunged forward without warning, grabbing hold of the man’s collar as he sank his teeth straight into his shoulder. The moment they made contact, he felt a rush unlike anything else flood through him. It had been so long, tasting fresh human meat that wasn’t tainted by death yet.

The bald man let out a small cry of pain before being promptly silenced by Coat Guy’s hand, the tips of his fingers digging into quivering lips as he clenched around and ripped the skin clean off. It was like tearing a mask off someone’s face, except there was no mask. Just flimsy skin dangling off cold fingers.

The man succumbed to his wounds relatively quickly, falling forward limply into Coat Guy’s violent embrace as he lifted his shirt and quickly consumed the guest’s body into his black hole without much trouble since this one actually tasted good.

Coat Guy's wounds began stitching themselves back together at an alarming rate, his skin knitting closed as if it had never been torn open in the first place. His color returned almost immediately, his pupils dilating slightly as he swallowed down the last remnants of blood from his lips.

He stood there for a moment longer, staring blankly ahead before finally letting out a deep breath and closing the front door again with far too much force.

"......Shit." He muttered under his breath again before turning on heel to head back towards the bathroom quickly before Theorist returned with whatever medicine he was gathering from the kitchen.

When he returned to the bathroom he found Theorist searching under the sink in the counter for whatever supplies he could find, mumbling to himself under his breath in the process. He had found a small first-aid kit and was currently digging through it as if looking for something in particular.

He almost said something, but chose to stay silent instead, not wanting to reveal what he had just done.

Theorist glanced up from his digging, noticing the other man standing near the door. “W-Where did you walk off to!? You need to sit down before you lose too much blood and fall unconscious!” He stated worriedly, standing back up. “I-I found Tylenol and painkillers, also some bandages and stuff to disinfect your wounds.”

Coat Guy shrugged slightly, his eyes darting away for a moment in guilt. "I thought I heard someone at the door."

He pushed off from the doorframe to step further into the room, his movements more confident now even though he still felt a bit off. “I can patch myself up… I don’t want my blood getting on you. But thanks, for uh.. gathering supplies for me, uhm… you.” His brows scrunched together as he came to the realization that he still didn’t know this guy’s name, and Theorist didn’t know his name either. Maybe he should tell him…?

"...Are you serious right now?" Theorist asked incredulously, holding up the first aid kit like it was some kind of sacred artifact. "You're bleeding out and your first thought is 'don't get my blood on him'?! What even…—!" He cut himself off with a frustrated noise before abruptly thrusting the supplies into Coat Guy's hands instead. "...F-Fine! But if you pass out from blood loss or something I am patching you up myself." His face flushed slightly at his own words as he looked away quickly.

Coat Guy took the supplies from him, his fingers brushing over the other man's for a fleeting moment as he mumbled out a half-hearted agreement. "Yeah, yeah... I get it, I get it. Now quit… looking at me like that, you're making me uncomfortable…" He muttered as he began to dig through the first-aid kit, trying to focus on something other than the thoughts running through his mind.

He had no wounds to patch up, so it’s best if he just… fakes this for the moment.

He pretended to dab some of the disinfectant onto his scratches, letting out a small hiss to really sell it before opening a bandaid for himself as he went ahead and slapped it on.

Theorist's face scrunched up in disbelief as he watched him work. "You- you hissed at disinfectant like it was acid, but you're putting a bandage on top of an open wound?!" He squinted, leaning in slightly to inspect the patch job. "...Wait." His voice dropped into something far more suspicious than before. "...Why isn't your arm still gushing blood?"

Coat Guy stiffened for a split second, quickly composing himself again before he could seem anymore suspicious. "....My body... has an increased healing rate." He said with an uncomfortable shrug of his uninjured shoulder, still trying to come up with some kind of explanation on the spot. "I'm, uhm… fine now." He cleared his throat awkwardly, swallowing. “Um, i’ve been meaning to ask… what’s your name? I feel like we should’ve told each other this days ago.”

Theorist stopped his nervous fidgeting in an instant, shifting his gaze up to meet Coat Guy's almost shyly. "Oh..!" The word came out as a squeak before he quickly cleared his throat, trying to recompose himself. "Yeah, it's been kinda weird just... calling each other 'hey you' or 'that guy'. I'm... I-I'm Theodore, but you can call me Ted. Oh gosh, how have I never properly introduced myself to you all this time..?!”

Coat Guy slowly nodded, repeating the name to himself in his head to himself to remember it better. "Ted." He muttered back, the corner of his lips twitching up in a weak smile. "That really suits you, actually. My name...." He hesitated for a moment as he debated giving him a fake name instead, but ended up shaking the thought from his mind. "Is uhm, uh… E-Eugene.” He let out a sigh, leaning back against the counter again before glancing over at the bathroom door to avoid eye contact.

Theorist—Ted—blinked rapidly at that, his expression softening slightly. "Eugene..?" He repeated back quietly, almost as if testing the name out on his tongue.

"...That's... a nice name."

His gaze flickered down to Coat Guy's arm again before snapping back up with sudden realization. "Wait. You just said you have increased healing rates, and now you're telling me your actual name?!" His voice pitched higher in disbelief. "This feels like we’re going a little backwards here.”

Eugene groaned, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "I don't know what you want me to say!" He snapped back before taking a deep breath and calming himself again slightly. “My family has passed down… a lot of medical problems and benefits. Some of which not even I can explain properly, so i’m sorry that I can’t give you all of the answers you’re looking for.”

Ted flinched at the harshness of his tone and automatically took an unconscious step back, only bringing himself to stop when his spine hit against the bathroom counter. He inhaled sharply, glancing at the floor for a second before mumbling back awkwardly. "...Right. Sorry. I'm sorry. I just... I-I didn't mean to..." He trailed off, but quickly continued a moment later. "...Nevermind. I'm sorry."

Well, now he felt kind of like a dick.

Eugene let out a slow sigh, his expression softening slightly as the tension in his shoulders relaxed. "No, no… don't apologize. It's… fine." He murmured. "I'm the one who is being an ass right now.” He set aside the kit and rolled back down his sleeve, frowning. “You deserve to know so many things… yet I can’t explain any of them.”

Ted hesitated for a long moment, staring at Eugene like he was trying to solve some kind of complex equation. Then, with an almost nervous twitch, he reached out and grabbed his wrist again… ignoring the way his own hands shook slightly.

"...You don’t have to explain anything." He said quietly, more firmly this time. "I'm just... I'm just glad you're not bleeding out anymore." His grip loosened after a second as if realizing how weird it looked when he kept doing that. "...Even if your healing is really fast,” He added with another small shrug. “And I wanna study every meter of you like some kind of… unhinged scientist, hehe.”

Eugene covered his mouth with his free hand as he shook his head, suppressing a snicker. “Heh. You're an odd one, Ted." He grinned slightly, tilting his head as if studying him in turn. "...I'd probably let you do it too, if you asked." His expression suddenly twisted into one of discomfort as the realization of what he just said hit him. "I uh-... I-I mean- as a way of being nice.”

Ted's face went bright red at the implication, his grip on Eugene’s wrist tightening for a second before he yanked it away like he’d been burned. "W-WHAT?! I-I wasn’t—! That is not what I was suggesting!" His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

He stumbled back another step, nearly tripping over his own feet in haste to put more distance between them. "...I-I just meant as an observation! Like… like watching ants crawl around or something!!”

Eugene couldn’t hide the fact he was smiling behind his hand. “Yeah? You wanna be my Victor Frankenstein, Teddy?”

Ted made a noise like a deflating balloon, his entire face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. "NO! I-I don’t want to make you!!” He shrieked, flailing his arms in panic before nearly smacking himself in the face with one.

He froze mid-motion as if realizing how ridiculous he looked, then promptly let out another strangled sound and covered his own burning cheeks with both hands instead. "...I need to lie down."

“Alright,” Eugene sighed with amusement, wiping tears from his eyes before gently nudging Ted towards the door. “Go go… get your beauty sleep.”

Ted stumbled forward a step at the nudge, still hiding his face behind his hands as he shuffled blindly toward the door. He bumped into the frame once before finally making it out into the hall, only to immediately trip over nothing and nearly faceplant into carpet.

"I’m fine!" He squeaked out from somewhere near floor level, not even bothering to get up yet. "...Just give me five minutes here."

This guy was one hell of an anomaly…

Chapter Text

He wasn’t entirely sure what Ted was up to when he got up the next morning and immediately left the kitchen, mumbling about wanting to retrieve a few things. Eugene didn’t bother following him, though. The house is usually safe during the day and therefore the need to protect him wasn’t all that strong.

He wasn’t expecting to see the man return with what appeared to be a doctor’s bag in hand.

“Oh. What uh… what are you doing with that?” Eugene found himself asking.

Ted glanced up from rifling through the bag's contents—his usual nervous energy dialed up to eleven as he pulled out a stethoscope with far too much enthusiasm. "Y-You said I could study you," He blurted out before immediately turning red again. "NOT LIKE THAT!! I mean, like, as in medically!"

He took a deep breath, clutching the stethoscope like it was a lifeline. "...Pulse. Temperature. Reflexes. Basic stuff." His voice dropped to a mumble. "I... did study pre-med before..." His hands fidgeted with the stethoscope tubing. "...So. Can I?" The hopeful glint in his eyes was downright painful.

Eugene arched an eyebrow, trying to figure out exactly what the other man wanted to hear from him. "...Are you asking if I'll let you do a medical exam on me?" He finally questioned incredulously, a disbelieving look crossing his features as his eyes flickered back down to the other man's still shaking hands.

Was he just being paranoid or was this guy just way too happy about wanting to poke at him.

Ted nodded rapidly before freezing mid-motion like he'd just realized how weird that looked. "I-I mean! Only if you're comfortable with it!" He stammered, waving the stethoscope around wildly before nearly smacking himself in the face with it. "I just—I've never seen healing like yours before and—and if you're okay with it then—then yes!"

He bit his lip hard enough to turn it white. "...But also no pressure! You can say no!"

The way his fingers kept twitching toward Eugene’s wrist said otherwise.

Eugene watched him with raised eyebrows, the other man's constant fumbling with the medical supplies making him look like a jittery school boy. He was a grown ass man! Why the hell was he acting like such a dork? "I…" He cleared his throat slightly, rubbing his chin before letting out a small scoff. "Yeah, yeah… go ahead." He found himself saying as he slowly rolled up the cuff of his sleeve. "Just uh… don't get too handsy with me, alright?"

Ted's entire face lit up, his hands trembling even worse now from sheer excitement. "R-really?!" He squeaked, nearly dropping the stethoscope again in his haste to get it around his neck properly. He hesitated for half a second before bringing the chest piece up to the center of Eugene’s chest. “C-Can you please take a deep breath in for me?”

Eugene let out a small breath, nodding silently before doing as he was told, inhaling deeply while trying to remain calm. He knew it was stupid to feel so nervous when literally nothing could hurt him, but having someone else examining him so closely was kind of unnerving regardless. This entire examination could end in disaster so easily.

Ted pressed the stethoscope a little too firmly against Eugene’s chest—his entire face screwed up in concentration as he listened intently.

"...Your heartbeat is really slow," He mumbled after a moment, sounding both fascinated and mildly concerned at the same time. He pulled back slightly, biting his lip before hesitantly pressing the stethoscope against Eugene’s wrist next.

"...And your pulse is... kind of nonexistent?" His voice pitched upward in confusion. He lifted his head to stare at Eugene directly—his expression caught somewhere between scientific intrigue and growing concern. “Um. O-Okay… uh, huh.” He began to move the chest piece lower, heading for his stomach.

Eugene’s hand darted up to grab at his wrist. “Don’t.” He blurted out, jaw clenched. “I just… d-don’t want you going any lower than t-that. It’s a comfort thing…”

Ted froze mid-motion—his entire body going stiff as if he'd been electrocuted. His face paled slightly as he quickly yanked the stethoscope away like it had burned him.

"O-Oh! Right! Of course! I—I wasn’t thinking—!" He stammered out frantically, his free hand flailing wildly in apology. "I-I swear I wasn’t trying to—! I just—!" He choked on his own words before abruptly shoving the stethoscope back into the bag with far too much force—nearly tearing the tubing in the process. "...I-I’m sorry.”

Maybe Eugene shouldn't have yelled at him like he had. It was obvious the other man was trying to be as professional as possible, and snapping at him probably had a negative effect.

He just didn’t want him getting hurt by what remained hidden underneath his clothes.

“D-Did you find that bag inside the storage room?” He asked him, helping to change the awkward air in the room.

Ted’s eyes flicked up to Eugene for a second—looking both guilty and relieved that he changed the subject instead. He nodded jerkily, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. "Y-Y-Yeah. There was a bunch of stuff still in there when I looked." His voice was still a little shaky. "Medicines and stuff."

The guilty feeling rose further in Eugene's chest, but he did his best to push it down and act like it was nothing. He should really apologize for the way he snapped at him. He probably should also explain his weird freak out over having his stomach examined as well..

But he didn't.

Instead he continued to talk, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.

"It isn’t the homeowners. There was a doctor he let in at one point, but FEMA ended up taking him away. I guess they made him leave his stuff here.” He gave a weak shrug.

"...That makes sense," Ted mumbled quietly, glancing down at the bag in his hands again. "I—I figured it wasn't his since he doesn’t seem like..." He trailed off awkwardly before shaking his head. "Nevermind." He took another deep breath before looking up again, his expression shifting into something softer. "...Could I… continue the examination? I’m still curious about a few things, but I p-promise I won’t touch anywhere around your stomach!”

Eugene was quiet for a few moments, his brain racing as he weighed his options. On one hand, the other man seemed pretty adamant about continuing his little medical exam. On the other, the fear of what might happen was still clawing at his skin.

With a sigh, he finally let his hand drop and gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine. Just… keep it in the upper half only."

Ted let out a small hum of agreement, quickly slinging the stethoscope back around his neck and pulling out what appeared to be a small flashlight next. "Y-Yeah! That's fine!" He agreed, lifting the light and clicking it on before stepping closer. "I-Is it alright if I shine this in your eyes? You can tell me to stop if it's uncomfortable."

Eugene nodded silently in acknowledgment, his gaze remaining fixed on the ceiling as he prepared himself for the light. "Yeah, go ahead. Just.. try to be quick about it…" He murmured, the nervousness slowly creeping into his voice again.

"Okay, keep looking forward for me," Ted instructed softly, angling the beam toward Eugene’s pupils. The moment the light hit, his breath hitched slightly—his own eyes widening behind his glasses as he stared.

"...Your pupils don't react," He mumbled, sounding both fascinated and unnerved at the same time. "At all." He swallowed thickly before lowering the flashlight again. "...That's… um. Interesting. Maybe they’d respond to a different color…”

Eugene let out a long exhale as the light was taken away, his shoulders sagging in relief.

He tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow curiously. "Different color?" He repeated slowly, brows scrunching together before realization settled onto his face. “….You mean like a laser pointer. You’re still on the cat hybrid theory??” He couldn’t believe this man. How could someone so bright be convinced of something so stupid?

"Not just cats!" Ted whined at the accusation, immediately looking both upset and defensive at the same time. "That was—that was one theory!" He squeaked, clutching the flashlight to his chest like it could somehow shield him from Eugene’s judgement. "...But hypothetically—if I did have one, would you... y'know..."

He trailed off, shoulders hunching up slightly as he peeked over at Eugene like a kid who'd just been caught sneaking cookies. "...Hypothetically. Would you feel the urge to catch it?”

Eugene stared blankly at him for a long few moments, the expression on his face practically screaming: 'are you serious?’

"No. I would not feel the ‘urge’ to chase the stupid laser." He deadpanned, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

Ted deflated slightly, but not entirely. He fiddled with the flashlight for a moment longer before suddenly brightening again.

"...What if I got a feather toy?" He asked in a hushed, conspiratorial tone—as if this was some grand revelation. "Would you—?"

He stopped mid-sentence when Eugene slowly lowered his hand to stare at him with the most unimpressed expression known to mankind.

"...I'll stop now." He set the flashlight back into the bag and grabbed a tiny mallet instead. “O-Okay, I would like to test your reflexes next. I’ll have to uh… give your knees a little whack, if that’s okay..?”

Eugene let out a small groan and closed his eyes, slowly rubbing at his temples as his mouth twisted into a small grimace. "Go ahead. Just… don't hit it too hard. Please.."

"I-I'll try to be gentle." Ted promised hastily, swallowing hard before lifting the mallet up and slowly tapping it against Eugene's knee, wincing slightly at both the action and the man's grimace. He paused momentarily, letting his eyes drift between Eugene's face and how his right leg did nothing in response. "...Huh..." He mumbled, sounding perplexed as he lifted the mallet back up and tapped his other knee too.

Nothing happened. Nada. Zip. "Huh," He repeated, a small frown forming. "...That's odd…."

Eugene had to resist the urge to start panicking. Of course his body wouldn’t respond properly. He’s an old, cold corpse! Everything is wrong with him!

“Maybe it’s because of my uh… anemia condition? My reflexes are too cold to respond properly… I guess.” He suggested weakly.

Ted looked unconvinced, if only because he seemed far more baffled by this result than the pupils had made him.

"I-I don't think that's how... anemia works?" He mumbled, glancing up at Eugene's face. "...I… I’ll try something else, hold on.” He raised one finger and used his other hand to dig into the bag, grabbing a metal object with a sharp end and a dull end. “Okay, i’m going to.. poke at your face a bit while you keep your eyes closed. You just tell me if you feel the sharp side or the dull side, alright?”

Eugene swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as he braced himself. "Yeah, alright... go for it." He murmured, his fingers digging into his palms as his body began tensing up.

Ted hesitantly brought the tool up and gently poked the tip of Eugene's cheek. "Sharp or dull?" He questioned quietly, his eyes intently focused on his face and expression in an effort to not mess it up.

"...Dull." Eugene mumbled quietly, a nervous sweat beginning to form on his temple.

Ted's brows furrowed at the answer, making a soft "hm" sound as he continued. He slowly lifted the tool again and lightly poked different parts of his face—his nose, his forehead, his chin, his cheek again, the side of his jaw, the tip of his ear, and even the side of his head—each time getting the same result.

"...It's all dull." He mumbled, sounding almost bewildered. "That's... weird."

He paused for a second longer before lifting the tool back up. "...Could you open your mouth for me?”

Eugene’s jaw tensed up at the request, a small knot beginning to form in his nonexistent stomach as he hesitantly opened his mouth.

Ted leaned in slightly, still careful not to invade too much of Eugene’s personal space, as he hesitantly brought the tool toward his mouth. "...Could you stick your tongue out?" He asked softly, clearly trying his hardest to not freak him out any further.

The moment Eugene complied, Ted carefully tapped the tip of his tongue with the blunt end, before hesitating and flipping it to the sharp end for just a split second—his expression going very still in response.

Eugene’s tongue began to salivate like a waterfall, wrapping around the skinny tool like some sort of snake.

Ted's eyes widened comically, his grip on the tool loosening so suddenly that he nearly dropped it entirely. He let out a startled noise, freezing mid-motion like a deer in headlights. "I-I—um," He stammered, his face flushing a deep red as he very slowly tried to pull the instrument back. "...Th-That's… uh. Not… medically documented?" His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

"M-Maybe—maybe we should stop here," He squeaked out weakly.

Eugene quickly yanked his tongue back in, swallowing a small lump in his throat as he finally spoke up. "Y-Yeah… we… probably should…" He rasped out, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet. He quickly covered his mouth, turning his head away slightly to try to regain at least a little of his dignity. "J-Just… just forget you saw that…" He mumbled into his hand, his face still burning hot from embarrassment. “I don’t know why I… did that.”

Ted let out a ragged, shaky sigh—sounding more like he'd just finished a 10 mile run than anything else. “N-Noted." He croaked out weakly, shoving the tool quickly back into the bag and taking another shaky breath. "I.. think I… have enough data from... that."

Eugene was relieved to hear that, the tension melting away as he slumped back against the kitchen chair. He still kept his hand firmly over his mouth and refused to look at the other man. "Y-Yeah.. great.." He murmured awkwardly, his words coming out muffled from behind his hand.

Ted continued to stand there for another, agonizingly long moment—seemingly frozen in place and staring at the floor before he suddenly jolted back to life like he'd just been shocked.

"R-Right!" He stammered out, looking anywhere but at Eugene. His eyes quickly flickered down to the medical bag as if looking for some kind of escape from this incredibly awkward ordeal.

"I-I think I have... one more thing to check?" His voice was so weak it came out barely above a whisper. His hand dug into the bag once more before pulling out an aura camera. “The doctor just so happened to have one of these! I haven’t gotten the chance to use or collect data from one, so perhaps you could be my first?”

Eugene slowly lowered his hand from his mouth and stared at the camera with a slight look of horror. He knew what those cameras were meant for. The homeowner had a few. It was used to check if someone’s aura had Visitor markings or not. A device made for the human eye.

A device that Eugene loathed.

“O-O-Oh. O-Okay. B-But y-you pr-probably sho-shouldn’t w-waste a p-photo o-on.. me.” He suddenly felt freezing again, the hole in his stomach churning almost painfully as the room around him swirled.

Ted's head snapped up to look at him so fast that it looked like it might leave his neck. His eyes widened almost comically—the redness from before replaced by a pure, unbridled expression of excitement.

"W—Waste!?" He sputtered out incredulously, looking almost offended. "W-Waste!?" His grip on the camera tightened and his entire expression brightened in excitement. "Are you kidding me? You? You wouldn't be a waste! You’re so… so interesting to me, Eugene. And I-… I wanna see the colors of your aura that my eyes can’t without a special lens.”

Eugene's shoulders sagged in defeat, knowing there was no way he was going to talk his way out of this. The idea of this guy seeing what he truly looked like in that camera… god, it felt like torture waiting to happen.

The man swallowed hard, his nerves going haywire as he forced himself to look back over at Ted.

"O-Okay… just, please be quick about it, alright? And… don't freak out too much..." He murmured, already regretting his words.

Ted nodded rapidly, so quickly that it was borderline concerning as he adjusted the camera settings with shaky hands. "Y-Yeah! Of course!" He squeaked, lifting the device up to aim it at Eugene.

The moment he clicked the button, the camera flashed—a sharp click sounding before the small device whirred and slowly printed out the photo. Ted immediately snatched it up—his eyes widening further as he stared at the developing image.

And then, silence.

He froze. Entirely. His breath hitched, his grip tightening slightly on the photo as he just… stared. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

"...Oh."

That was all he managed to say. Just—Oh.

His hands trembled slightly before he abruptly flipped the photo around, showing Eugene the image himself.

His silhouette was an entirely dark and sorrowful blue, but his stomach showed a pure black smudge that took the shape of a circle.

Eugene felt his heart drop as he stared down at the photo, his body immediately going numb. He knew this would happen. He knew showing his true self was stupid. He knew that. But a foolish part of him hoped—prayed—that maybe, he was wrong.

It was a silly dream. He'd known that from the beginning. But—

Eugene's jaw tightened as he forced himself to lift his gaze up off the picture to meet Ted's shocked expression again. "Told you." He muttered quietly.

Ted just continued staring blankly, his eyes switching between the photo and Eugene's face over and over again, as if trying to process everything. His entire body was shaking like he was going to vibrate out of existence.

Eventually, though it seemed like an eternity later, he finally managed to open his mouth to speak.

"Y-You're..." He started, and then stopped. Again.

He took a shaky, shaky breath before trying again—this time, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"You're not human, are you?"

He'd been so careful. So damn careful not to give anything away.

But of course, that small, stupid part of him that had believed he could fool this guy—the part that had told him that a simple camera wouldn't expose him, had just doomed him instead.

"No," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. "No… I'm not."

Ted let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a choked-back scream, his entire body locking up for a split second before he stumbled back a step, nearly tripping over his own feet.

He swallowed thickly, his hands trembling violently around the photo still clutched in his fingers—before slowly lowering it. His expression was… complicated. Very complicated.

"...Oh," He whispered again, soft and shaky—before suddenly, abruptly, snapping his fingers together.

"...That explains the oval shaped pupils thing!" He blurted out, his voice cracking as he pointed accusingly at Eugene like that was the most pressing issue right now.

And then, predictably, he proceeded to faint backward onto the floor.

"Oh Jesus Christ—!" Eugene quickly pushed himself out of the kitchen chair, hurrying over to Ted's side in less than a few seconds. He quickly knelt down and turned him over onto his back.

Ted groaned softly as he slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision still slightly blurry as he stared up at Eugene's face hovering above him.

And then—

"AAAHHHH!"

He let out a panicked shriek, scrambling backward so fast that he smacked his head into the fridge door. "HOLY COW!" He wheezed out, his entire body trembling violently as he clutched at his chest like his heart might give out. "OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD."

He stared at Eugene, his eyes blown wide before abruptly slapping his hands over his own mouth to stifle another scream. "...You’re a Visitor." He whispered weakly behind his fingers. "I’ve been friends with a Visitor this entire time."

Eugene felt like his entire world was about to end right then and there. “Y-Yes." He managed to croak out, his voice cracking with the effort. "I'm… I'm a Visitor.”

Ted let out another choked noise, his hands still pressed firmly against his mouth—before slowly lowering them to clutch at his own shirt collar instead.

"...Oh my god," He whispered again, this time sounding significantly more dazed than terrified. His eyes flickered down to Eugene's stomach, then back up, before repeating the motion several times in rapid succession.

"...Does that mean you're pregnant?" He blurted out, completely forgetting the entire "monster pretending to be human" aspect in favor of his own spiraling curiosity.

"Wha…" Eugene sputtered, his eyes going wide for a few seconds before he realized what the man was referring to. "Oh." He shook his head and let out a soft exhale, his eyes dropping down to his stomach.

"N-No… that's not… that's not a baby." He murmured, squinting back up at Ted as if to say ‘are you serious?’

Ted blinked, his entire expression flickering between pure confusion and utter fascination before settling somewhere in the middle. His hands twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and poke it, but he managed to stop himself just in time.

"...Okay," He mumbled, still sounding very out of it, before suddenly snapping his fingers again. "Oh! OH—wait, wait, is that why you didn't want me touching your stomach?! Because you were hiding that?!"

Eugene nearly facepalmed at the question, a part of him wanting to groan and another part of him feeling a little amused at the sheer obliviousness of this man. "Yes," he finally answered, his tone almost exasperatedly fond. "That's… that's exactly why I didn't want you touching my stomach. Because I-I don’t actually have one.”

Ted's eyes widened further, his entire face lighting up with sheer excitement before abruptly clapping both hands over his mouth again to stifle another sound.

"...Oh my god," He breathed out, voice muffled by his palms before suddenly pointing an accusing finger at Eugene again. "I knew it! I knew something was up with you! I just didn't think—!" He cut himself off, dropping his hands into his lap before staring blankly at the floor for a solid ten seconds.

"...This is the coolest day of my life." He whispered finally, his voice shaking with barely-contained enthusiasm. “Wait! Wait.” He perked right back up. “If you don’t have a stomach, then what do you have?”

The corners of Eugene's lips twitched into a slight smile at the enthusiasm radiating from the man. For some reason, it was kind of… endearing, in a way. He had fully expected the other man to yell and scream at him for hiding what he was. Instead, he was acting like a curious child with a brand new toy.

He shrugged in response to his question, taking a moment to figure out how to explain the answer in layman's terms.

"It's… difficult to explain. It's kinda… like a… black hole." He said slowly. “A vortex that… sucks in people… and consumes them.”

Ted's entire face lit up at the explanation, his hands flying up to clutch at his own cheeks in sheer excitement. "Oh my god," He breathed out, his voice wobbling with barely-restrained glee. "So you're telling me—" He started, his eyes practically sparkling behind his glasses before abruptly cutting himself off to let out another high-pitched noise.

"—You're telling me you literally have a void inside of you?!" He whisper-screamed—his entire body vibrating with barely-contained energy. "YOU’RE SO AMAZING—“

And then, predictably, he passed out again—slumping forward.

Eugene caught him before he could slam his face into the ground again, rolling his eyes at the absolute ridiculousness of the situation.

The poor man was too excited. He'd just learned that his only friend was a literal monster, and instead of being even slightly afraid? He was practically having a fanboy moment over the void in his stomach.

"Jesus. You're such a nerd…" He mumbled under his breath.