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Movie nights were better with Moe.
The TV in Ze's bedroom cast a pool of blue light onto the bed. He'd only begrudgingly allowed Regect to stay, on the basis that he wouldn't touch or tamper with anything.
Regect was fixated on the film, giving an occasional blurb or remark about the cinematography or acting. He'd watched it a million times over; it was his absolute favourite, and he felt a need to boast about everything in it.
Ze wasn't focused; he attended to the popcorn. It was wedged in-between the two from where they sat cross-legged. Ze took greedy handfuls. The butter melted onto his tongue as he tossed each golden piece into his mouth. Ze hunched over from where he sat, eyes half-lidded with a fist supporting his chin.
"...and that's why— Ze, are you listening?" Regect's excitement sizzled into a thinly veiled disappointment, his talons settling into his lap rather than gesturing.
"Oh, yeah," Ze replied absentmindedly. For the betterment of his conscience, he asked, "What were you saying again?"
Regect amped up his explanation again, the movie paused to make way for his own dialogue. It was frozen on a frame of a woman. Rain ran down her face, coupled with an expression twisted in hatred. She was paired with a man, mirroring her with an accusatory edge. The scene was dreary and dark.
From what Ze had followed, it was adjacent to a soap-opera, with lots of bickering. Although, he wasn't particularly interested enough to remember the ongoings of the couple, or why they were arguing.
Regect was enthralled, recounting everything leading up to this point. It seemed cheap in Ze's opinion.
Ze held his attention enough, remembering the occasional name or event as Regect spoke. It was only fair; the two had reached a mutual agreement for movie nights. Everyone in the household cycled through their turn, and, if bickering so occurred, it would be promptly cancelled for that night. Moe was out, presumably at a concert, so Regect and Ze were left alone. Movie nights were a sacred tradition, and neither Regect or Ze wanted to miss out. They continued without her, promising profusely to give her first pick next time.
With the absence of Moe, there was nobody to flatten any tension. Sheer pettiness alone was enough to prompt argument, whether it was Regect keeping authority of the remote or explaining useless details to drive Ze mad.
Ze's hand clamped over his face in a yawn. "Is it almost done?" he asked, trying to play it off as an honest question.
"Okay, fine. If you hate it so much, we're not watching it," Regect snarked, picking up the remote.
"No, I said we can. You wanted to."
"Well, now I don't."
"You said so."
Ze reached for the remote, hand arching over the bowl and over to its position in Regect's lap. He jerked it away in response, extending his arm and holding it away from Ze.
"Just hand it over," Ze orders exasperatedly. "Let me pick."
"No."
"Regect."
"No," he repeated, in the same, flat tone.
Ze pushed the bowl of popcorn aside, removing the divider between them. He scrambled over, Regect holding it high above him. Ze sat, hand meeting the remote. He closed his grasp around it, hand locked over Regect's.
"It's my turn to pick the movie," Regect stated smartly.
"Are we watching it or not?!" Ze snapped, attempting to yank the TV remote from where Regect had it ensnared.
The movie scene was mostly the same; although, the camera angle had changed to a wider shot. Their faces were still contorted angrily. It was like a mirror image set behind their own— albeit pettier— quarrel.
Regect pulled away, talon closed firmly around it. His tapered claws coiled around the remote, refusing to let go. Ze attempted to pry his digits away to no avail. Then, Regect jerked it away, angling it as so, and hit play.
"You're such an asshole," Ze moaned.
"Shut up; it's the best part."
After an indignant bout of frustration, Ze scooched away from Regect and plopped himself back into his own spot. He was growing thoroughly tired; quite frankly, he would much rather sleep at this point. Whether it was to uphold the tradition, or to try to make peace with Regect through movie-bribery, Ze had tolerated him for the most part. But, he was beginning to wear thin at this point.
With another pause at a critical moment, Ze lost his patience. "Stop doing that."
Regect hit play again. "Fine."
Ze bounced his leg aimlessly. Thankfully, Regect remained peacefully silent, enthralled with the movie.
Eventually, the credits began to roll. That was the very first film in Regect's favourite saga, of which he wanted to finish. The ending felt empty— a cliff-hanger. Ze was on the cusp of nodding off. As the white text scrolled across the screen, highlighted by a black background, Ze felt his eyelids droop.
"Are we going to finish the next one?" Regect asked, with a sense of hopefulness.
It was absurd— an entity, in his bedroom, gushing about filmmaking and begging to watch more.
His body was made up of harsh, jagged points of bone; Regect's spine stuck out, knobbly points highlighted. His skin, jet-black, practically blended into the dark room. The only indicator of his precense was from the blue light of the screen; it shone, bouncing off of his black body. He was entirely without a head, coupled with other invisible points of his body.
Confusing, so stark from being human, but with a personality of one; an average seeming roommate. They hung out together, in such a normal fashion Ze could easily forget he was spending time with an entity.
Ze yawned. "You go do that."
Regect was poised like a critic on the edge of his bed, surveying the next movie. Ze clambered onto his pillows. He would've kicked Regect out of his bedroom, but his sleep-muddled brain was less than inclined to bother arguing. Ze rubbed his face, blinking. He felt disorientated, the lull of sleep kicking in.
"Get out when you finish it," Ze ordered.
"Yeah, yeah. Okay," Regect replied.
Ze burrowed himself into bed, trying to ignore Regect's obvious, jarring precense and the background garble of the television. It wasn't that he hated his precense, Ze felt embarrassed to be sleeping next to him. He wouldn't admit to that, of course. Sleeping with Regect there felt oddly vulnerable, especially in his own bedroom.
When had they crossed the threshold, to become close enough to do something like this? Sure, they bickered still, but there was an underlying element of trust. Not obviously stated, nor directly acknowledged, but certainly prominent. Regect had grown softer around the edges— kinder, almost.
Maybe, if he thought of it in a different light, Regect's precense wasn't burdensome. It felt safe, in a way, like an anchor. He was a reminder that Ze wasn't in the Hole; this Regect would always be real.
Ze teetered on the edge of giving into the tug of sleep, the background noise fading into a quiet hum. Had Regect turned it down?
Finally, Ze gave in. His eyes slanted shut; he pulled the blanket higher. His body dropped into sleep.