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The holidays are what brings the neighbors together. Not that they are all distancing from each other or anything, but those days are what requires them to take a break from their usual routines.
To admit so, the Gratitude Gala was the mailman's favorite event to attend yearly. After all it gave him an excuse to dress more pristine than usual, his work outfit may not be the most classy thing in his closet.
He's always able to comb through his red hair in order to achieve the neat-er look, always able to pull up his sleeves to appear as a gentleman, and always tightening the blue tie around his neck. He'd never wear his every-day tie for something so formal.
Yet no matter how much he tries to swallow or rub against it, somehow, his throat still itches.
Despite living in his own post office, he was able to create a comfortable living space in the back of the building. To give it more of a homey illusion, the man would input more decoration. Eddie checks himself in the mirror once more to fix a strand.
Eddie Dear clears his throat.
He doesn't even have anyone to go with him to the Gala. Sure, he'll be with the others but why put in so much effort?
The face of that man crosses his mind and Eddie hacks up a cough. A cough so hard that he looked down at his white, neat attire to see a small circle of red on his sleeve.
"Dammit." He grunts while wiping his lip.
So much for all of that effort..
Safe to say, he was a little late to the gathering but thankfully due to Wally Darling's grace, he was excused from his untimely arrival.
The mailman didn't just sat down to scrub off the stain immediately, although he did change out of it to fill up his sink with cold water before submerging it. What was harder to do was to find the perfect replica.
He recalls himself tossing out shirts and pants that are obviously unsuited for the occasion.
However, the event still prevails even with such a slip-up. Eddie was still invited to the table with all of them smiling and opening up their hands. It's a tradition that his family followed too, to express their appreciation for the present and the one above. Since he's moved, Eddie hasn't had much time to focus on that aspect of his life.
But during the prayer he could not help but to open one eye to look around the live Home, who only stared back at him through its window-eye. Their wallpaper covered walls guard the neighbors like a gate from the outside, bright but in-pure world.
Eddie stares back at it whilst swallowing away the burning itch in his throat. His all-seeing eyeball isn't what is bothering him. It is the darkness that he feels filling up his vision, that chokes him, that kills his soul, that strikes his heart the moment he remembers that someone is watching him.
Whether it would be Home, or God. The idea still irks his mind.
Wally clears his throat softly, "So, what is everyone grateful for.. " He pauses, "This year's Gratitude Gala?"
"Mind if I go first!?" The high-pitched voice of Ms. Starlet arises, "As I have plenty, plenty of things to be grateful for."
"My, aren't you eager?" Poppy flutters one wing towards her face, "Why of course, Sally, go on."
As her proud chatter continues to fill up the room Eddie Dear swishes around his glass before sipping from, feeling the light bubbles created from the carbonation of the drink. It's been apparent to himself that his sore throat has made it mildly difficult for him to swill. The conversation switches from neighbor to neighbor, to which he doesn't really pay attention to.
He doesn't intend it obviously, but his mind was working over time trying to pick out what to say next and what not to think about. It was hard to focus when the last time you sat on a chair inside of Home, you spiraled.
"Eddie, what are you grateful for?" That voice, that tone, that man.. He blinks, before blinking again at that familiar gray puppet who smiles at him so kindly and in that moment he stills. His brain short-circuits and now he has no clue what to do. He COULD be honest but the words he intended to say froze on the tip of his tongue.
"Family and friends." Eddie responded, cringing at the hoarse state of his voice, and raised up his glass to create an emphasis on that point.
Frank's smile falters slightly, "Er.. That's lovely, but are you alright Eddie?"
"Right as rain, friend." He answers, "Just recently recovered from a nasty cold, that's all."
"Recovered is a.. Strong word." They replied.
Frank continued the ceremony by placing a hand onto a soft, pink palm of a lady. The golden rings the couple adorn on their fingers glisten slightly from the warm lighting of the surrounding lamps. He would hate to confess, but truly Julie Joyful looked like a princess.
Julie only sat besides the man, tightening her plush hand against his own. The dress she dons is a soft-blue, much similarly to Cinderella's gown for a dance. Her neckline was round and the skirt stopped to the top of her ankles. She had her cheeks lightly dusted with blush and highlights, her lips were glossed over with a faint peach color. Unlike the bold red he wears for fun, only to catch eyes whether it would result from laughter towards him or with him.
Eddie Dear suited being a clown. Above all to be loved by a man was to only morph into the delusion of being a woman.
Foolish boy.
She smiles at her fiancé once he utters, "I am grateful for..My wife to be, my love, my light, my dear." Frank folds both of her hands over one of hers this time, his dark eyes gaze over her face in typical devotion for everyone to see. "The biggest joy that lights my world.."
With her free one, she fans herself, "You shouldn't have.."
Eddie's mind buzzes by the adoration from their friends, it consistently rings throughout his ears as he is frozen in place just watching them. The man. Frank Frankly.
The sight of him makes him sick as thorns continue to constrict his throat.
Wait a moment.
The thorns are constricting his throat?
The man opens up his mouth to speak but what comes out is a pathetic wheeze. Eddie stared down at his own body as his hand padded up to the fabric of his neck. He uses his index and middle finger to press down against the dull, never-ending ache against the inside.
The flower continues to bloom in his body when the thorns grow longer. Eddie excuses himself to the bathroom. Upon arrival, he locks the door to hack up the yellow rose pedals. Some of them sputter out of his lips then all onto the sink soaked with his gore, meanwhile some are lounged in there still. The man's eyes blur, and he couldn't help not to cry.
He stares at himself at the mirror, who reveals a man in great sorrow whose reddening lips quivered. With one shaky hand, he smears it over to match his bold lipstick borrowed from Sally Starlet for performance purposes.
Stumbling back over his polished shoes, Eddie slid down the wall with his hands covering his mouth. The red stains his felt hands and so do his tears when they roll down his yellow cheeks. The vines inside are hugging his heart, but the hug keeps getting tighter and tighter once he continues to panic. He heaves.
Followed by frantic knocks of many, the doorknob rattles.
He didn't have a particular favorite flower, honestly Eddie liked them all. Although if someone asks he would say roses at most since it is the flower of love due to the associations with the colors pink and red. The flowers that grew in Frank's garden were a bright yellow that matched the summer's sun.
'For friendship.' He noted.
And the way that Frank smiled at him was oh-so endearing.
Eddie glances back at the sink where his bloodied petals stayed there collecting dust. What else he could do? they were an exact replica of their flowers after all, he couldn't just ignore that! He can't inch to pluck them off, toss them in the trash, Eddie Dear cannot move. Tears blind him and he didn't budge once he coughed.
Even if Eddie had tried so hard, he suited being a clown. Above all to be loved by a man was to only morph into the delusion of being a woman. But the illusion cannot take place if the proxy stood by him with her hand circling his arm.
Foolish clown.