Chapter Text
Pale grey eyes met vibrant hazel ones, a stark contrast from each other’s. Aesop's eyes had lost their spark a while ago, his eyes were practically no different than a corpse’s. Clouded with memories and images of death from throughout his life—Childhood to.. where he is now. The man in front of him seemed to radiate life though.. doe hazel eyes, hidden behind long golden blonde lashes. They glimmered of hope and energy. It was as if death had met life. The embalmer, and the postman. Aesop, and this mystery man, who Aesop seemed so captivated by. Ah, he’d been staring for too long.. Aesop awkwardly averted his gaze from the man’s eyes, guiding them down to the letter that he was holding out. No words were spoken. Aesop gave a confused look before tentatively grabbing the letter. Since when did anyone write to him? Did he even know anyone? Actually.. it didn’t really matter anyway. Why was he so hung up on a letter when the main attraction was standing right in front of him. Aesop wanted to know more about the postman, he seemed so radiant, and alive—but.. when he looked back up, he was not there anymore. Just like that, he was gone, no words at all, not even a name. Just a warm smile and a letter. And that’s when Aesop's new infatuation started. His dead cold heart suddenly started beating again, pulsating warm blood through his veins. One interaction with this angel seemed to bring life back to Aesop’s dying body. Much like the work Aesop does on the dead, the delivery boy had done to him, just like that. The only difference being that, while Aesop makes corpses look alive, the man with the hazel eyes made the embalmer feel alive. But of course, nothing ever lasts forever. Just as the feeling came, it was gone. Aesop shivered at the familiar cold feeling, and he was tired of it. That was the day that Aesop Carl had vowed to never let his angel go again.
Aesop sat next to his window, it gave him a clear view of the street. A clear view of him. He also made himself a cup of hot hibiscus tea earlier, a routine he recently developed. He even moved his work schedule to accommodate it. He would wake up, get dressed, groom himself, boil his tea, then sit by the window and wait.. Truly, he should probably just walk up and talk to the man, like a normal person.. But Aesop didn’t want to, and he felt that the postman wouldn’t want that either. He would settle on just watching and daydreaming for now. It’s not like it hurt anyone? not like Aesop cared for anyone getting hurt anyway. Where were we? Oh right.. So, Aesop sat at his coffee table, sipping his tea, watching the window. His whole day revolved around this moment, the few seconds where he would see his angel.. the man who managed to bring Aesop's dead heart back to life with one glance.
!!!
He perked up in his chair as he saw a vibrant blob of color in the distance slowly approaching his street. It went door to door. As it got closer it became more clear as to who it was. Aesop had known who it was before the clear sighting anyway. He knew of only one man that could brighten a dull neighborhood like his. Aesop Shivered with that familiar warmth—.. although it was more faint than usual.. He frowned deeply and clutched his chest as his beating heart stilled again. And just like that feeling that Aesop had craved, the man was gone too. When Aesop looked back up to the window, the postman had already been down the block, past Aesop's house. This routine had started to bore him, he needed to get closer to his angel. He needed to formulate a plan.
…
If he received a letter then that would bring the postman right up to his door? wouldn’t it? But Aesop rarely ever received letters.. He had nobody. The only human contact he would make on the daily would be the corpses he would work on at his job.
..Why not just, send himself letters?
He looked up at the clock… He has time. And so Aesop got to work. He searched his drawers.. he knew he had an envelope and paper—it’s just been a while since he needed them. He eventually found a blank page lying on his kitchen counter. He folded the blank paper into the envelope, there’s no need to write on it. It wasn’t intended to deliver a message. It was instead delivering something (someone) far better. He heated up some wax to seal it, and wrote his address on the back of the envelope, neat handwriting, easy to read. Another glance up at his clock, it was time to go. Perfect timing. He’d just drop off the letter to the post office on his way to work. Aesop almost felt giddy to see the man up close again. He couldn’t help but smile as he put on his mask and stepped out his front door, work case in hand, letter in the other.
The next morning Aesop waited by his door, eagerly awaiting the expected knock. His foot tapped impatiently, and his gaze kept wandering back to the ticking clock on his muted blue-grey kitchen wall. It was past the usual time the postman (Aesop's Angel) would pass by his house.. It was starting to worry him, had something happen—! knock knock. Aesop jumped at the sudden knocking on his door, his eyes widening with the realization. His heart fluttered, much like the butterflies in his stomach as he reached to open his door knob. It slowly swung open with a creak. Pale grey eyes met vibrant hazel ones again. That wonderful feeling of liveliness flooded Aesop's body again. His breathing picked up as he felt a growing warmth in his chest. It wasn’t a sweaty unbearable type of warmth though, the kind that Aesop would usually feel. No, it felt comfortable. Like being cozied up by the fireplace with a cup of hot tea. Aesop avoided eye contact, feeling a bit awkward now. Instead his eyes slowly traveled down the man. He started to notice a few more details.. like his speckled warm brown freckles, which reminded him of dry old crusted blood, like a healing wound. His narrow triangle nose, which was still breathing in air. His tan skin, a sign of blood flowing. And that red uniform, the color of fresh oozing blood. All factors of liveliness. The postman was so alive it bewitched Aesop. He had been around corpses most of his life, he even began to believe he was one himself. A cold dead decayed corpse, six feet under, empty, devoid of blood and guts. But being near somebody so alive made Aesop feel that he was coming to life. Like a zombie back from the dead. “You’re late..” Aesop spoke in a low tone, his voice slightly gruff. It’s been a while since he had spoken. The postman’s eyes widened slightly at that, his smile faltering just for a moment. He looked genuinely sorry, but didn’t say anything. Aesop gave him one final glance before taking his letter, watching as the postman turned his back and began walking away. He watched until his angel was no longer in sight, sighing behind his closed door. He looked down at his letter.. huh, looks like it was opened?