A continuation of this post! Tw: the word Daddy is mentioned but not in a sexual way!
Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 3
A week passed since that guy came in. You hope that the kitten's okay, the guy seems much better than you thought him to be. You did wonder if that was blood on the bills he gave when your manager had counted the register for the night. It looked a lil too red for your taste. But everyone has their secrets and you’re not about to ask that tank of a man if he killed someone or just happened to prick his finger. Still though you hope Bailey is faring much better with him than in the could and… you hope he comes back.
Sunday’s the worst but you managed to persuade your coworker to take over your register. Truck had just came in with so many things for the store and your managers are scrambling to get it all on the sales floor.
Humming along to the song from your earphones. The perks about stocking is that you hardly get bothered by your coworkers. No one likes to restock the numerous bedding and litter and pet clothing so you jumped at the chance to do it. Gives you some peace and quiet save for when the customers will tap at your shoulder. You’ll plaster a smile and use your “customer voice” to point them to where they need a certain item and then get back to stocking. You really should find a way to just work with animals. Maybe you can talk to your manager to see if you can try grooming instead of—
“Girl!”
You jerk and nearly ruin the stack of dog cans you had just put up when someone grabs your arm. “Jesus, Jess,” glaring at your manager when you give her a scathing glare. Coincidentally this one’s the grooming manager. “What’s the matter?” Normally she wouldn’t be out of the grooming salon but the stores been short staffed and cutting corners. She’s been running around having to manage the store floor and hers.
“What’s the matter,” she scoffs, “the matter is your boyfriend is asking for you.” Boyfriend? “He’s a real asshole, ya know. We paged you twice over the intercom. Did you not— are you wearing headphones?” You wince when her voice gets screechy. You pull on your earphones and sigh, it’s an unspoken rule to not wear earphones but that literally never stops her groomers from wearing them.
“Jess, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Rolling your eyes as you give her a once over. Her hands land on her hips and you inwardly sigh. “What does he even look like? Did he say my name?” A little hopeful and also very worried because why is there a man claiming to be your boyfriend and why did your manager come get you for this? “I’m sure he’s one of the customers that’s been bitching lately. The fish tanks aren’t on sale anymore maybe he—“
“He’s not here for fish.” Cutting you off, “he asked for you. I thought he was your boyfriend cause he knew you were working right now.” The alarms start going off in your head. “Look, just go see what he wants.”
“Jess, I don’t know who this man is. Why didn’t you tell him I was like— I don’t know, not working?!”
“Because he’s refusing to fucking leave and he looks like he’s apart of the goddamn mafia!” She yells and you blink at her. Your anger boils to a simmer when she mentions what he looks like.
“Wait, wait… is he wearing a black mask? The ones people wore during COVID?” She nods and you pinch your nose hard. This motherfucker, “okay… I know him. He found a kitten a week ago. I told him to come find me. I didn’t think he’d remember my name because my name tag is so small.” Sighing loudly and stepping around her. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“Good, he’s given us all a fright and I really don’t need this right now. Bella bit the shit out of Felix and now I’m down a groomer.”
“Okay,” nodding as she tells you her woes. It’s been hard all around cause there’s not many workers but you’ll take a mask wearing customer over a shih tzu that’s known to bite. Fixing your shirt and putting on a smile when the figure that’s haunting the grooming salon takes one look at you and starts walking to you— quickly. “Evening, good to see you again. How can I—“
“She’s not eating any of the shit you told me to buy.” He cuts you off and you wonder if you’re actually just made of paper with how everyone cuts you off. There’s a black scarf he’s wearing and you notice a little bit of movement. This guy seems to favor black considering the matching jacket and pants color scheme.
You pull a face and turn to your side when he steps right in front of you. Jesus, he’s tall. Craning your neck to look up at him. “Sir, you have a weeks worth of three different foods?” Is she refusing to eat all of them? “It’s only been a week. Are you sure she’s—“
“Gave her a different one each day and she ain’t eating.” He tilts his head down, “why?” You swallow a bit when he glares at you. You wonder if whoever pisses him off gets to see this last before they get knocked the fuck out.
“You?” Shriveling up slightly, “wait,” once it runs through what he says it starts to click in your head. “You gave her a different one each day. You’re not supposed to do that.” Now it’s your turn to glare at him, “you’re supposed to ease her out into a new one before letting her try it suddenly.” You gave him the kitten version of chicken, beef, and salmon. You had a feeling that she was probably eating literal garbage and wanted her to try the chicken first. It’s your usual go to for new kittens.
“News to me,” he crosses his heavy arms over his chest. “Should’ve told me that.”
“I did tell you…” you start to trail off when you realize that you in fact did NOT tell him that. You just assumed he would know that. Goddamnit. “Okay,” he cocks an expectant brow, “maybe I forgot to mention but you didn’t ask. I thought you knew.” A measly form of an apology and taht doesn’t seem to settle him
“I told you I need things for the little shit. You made me buy those things,” he takes a step forward, “expensive things and now she’s waking me up all hours of the damn night because she’s hungry.” Your throat must be very dry from how hard you swallow. “What you didn’t tell was how to feed her.” His hands ball and flex.
Rubbing the back of your neck, you realize that maybe you are more in the wrong than your pride wishes to admit. “Look I,” taking a breath, “I’m sorry. It’s on me, I should’ve told you. I would’ve given you one of those first time pamphlets but we ran out.” Feeling like how a bug feels under a boot with how you tremble out an apology. “Was there one that she seemed interested in the most? Some cats like the chicken more while others prefer the salmon.” Maybe you can give him some wet cans to entice his little pet. A small thing like her shouldn’t be without food and you start to feel worse.
“She sniffed more at the salmon.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Perking up and you turn on your heel. “Come on, I’ll buy you some wet cans.” Before he can even protest you cut him off finally. “Look, I feel horrible, it’s the least I can do. Plus I get discounts.” Giving him a wink and he doesn’t give you anything other than a curt nod. You grab the salmon wet cans, the kitten ones, and you pray to the gods that Bailey will eat it so her dad won’t kill you. “Try the wet cans, see if that’ll work. If not then you’ll have to try for a different one. There’s a brand here that sells rabbit and turkey, a bit expensive.” You laugh shortly, “but cats have sensitive stomachs. They don’t mean to be picky.”
“Might not be picky but she sure as hell like to run my money.”
You huff a small laugh at his expense, “you should see the bills I’ve seen that get racked up here.” You skip the line to head to your register. Ringing it up and usually you’re not supposed to use your own discount for others but you’re not willing to risk mafia guy’s anger. Bagging it and passing it to him for him but he doesn’t grab it right away “Is there… is there something else you need?” You ask and he takes the bag from you finally.
He mulls over your words for a second and then says. “Need a collar,” he tilts his head to the side and out pokes Bailey’s itty bitty head from his scarf. You nearly scream when you see her but manage to bite your tongue on time. “Here,” he pulls her out and she lets out a disgruntled meow. He plops her down in your waiting arms. “Scratched up my neck.” He grumbles under his breath when he fixes his scarf back up. The kitten simply purrs in your arms when you coo and run from her nose to head. A glutton for love and you readily give it to her. “Find something for her.” He waves offhandedly once his scarf looks decent around his neck once more.
“Do have a specific—“ you trail off again when his eyes squint down at you. Right… he doesn’t really care. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” He grunts an acknowledgment and you walk off with the cutest little baby. She keeps pulling at your chest, seems eager to get to your shoulders and you wonder if she does that to her dad all the time. “Hmmmm,” looking from all the collars that the store sells. “You’re too tiny,” you hold her up like the monkey did the lion cub, a little sad that there’s not much that’ll fit her. “But,” noticing a small blue collar that shines slightly, “this could fit. It’ll give you enough room to grow into as well.” It’s a cat collar designed to unclasp if it gets snagged hard onto something. And knowing this curios kitten, she’ll need it.
Bailey doesn’t seem to mind when you let her sniff at it till the collar comes on and then she’s desperate to figure out what’s around her neck. Her back legs kicking at the edge of the collar and you cup her so she won’t tug it off. “Your daddy wants you wearing that so you gotta get used to it.” He could train her to walk on a harness later but that does take a good amount of training and
“Daddy, huh?”
You jolt from your thoughts and squeeze a little too tight around Bailey. She lets out a little hiss and you blubber an apology. “I didn’t— that’s not what I—“ the ‘daddy’ in question seems far too amused with how you stutter. “I uh… I thought you were at the front?” Coughing to push past your embarrassment. Petting Bailey as an apology on her sides and under her chin. She doesn’t forgive easily as she gives you a well deserved nips. You murmur a sorry to her and she squints up at you.
“Thought you got lost.” He comes around and pulls his kitten from your hands, he took a little longer to get her out but maybe you’re thinking too hard. You were taking a bit down the aisle but you wanted her to have a nice collar that fit her well. The heat from his fingers though makes your own cheeks warm slightly. When did he get that close and also why didn’t you hear him walking up? “Looks good,” he holds Bailey up and moves her around like she’s a little jewel. “Blue suits her.” He pushes her back inside his scarf and you can faintly hear her little purrs. A slight movement of the fabric before she settles right up against his neck.
Clearing your throat slightly, some strands of hair falls a bit forward but you’re still a bit squirmy to fix it. “I knew she would look good in blue. It matches her, I can buy it for you as well. I don’t min—“ your eyes widen when he moves his hand to tuck those loose strands back behind your ear. You stare up wide at him and he stares down at you. Nothing in his eyes give away an ounce of an emotion despite how you look. To his credit, he may have not meant to do that with how quickly he puts his hand down. “Uh… I— sir?” You manage to squeak out and his mask twitches slightly.
He flexes his hand that touched you and leaves you standing there bewildered, confused and your cheeks burning up so much that you might consider it to be a fever. You don’t follow him when he took off without giving an answer but you do touch your ear. The phantom feeling of his fingers makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. “What the fuck?” You murmur under your breath.
…
The next day you manage to get to work with little sleep from how you tossed and turned. You sorta waited more around your register to see if the man would come back but to your disappointment… he doesn’t. You take it in stride and continue about your day. Just as you’re about to clock out a man with a charming smile and model worthy appearance comes in holding a kitten in his hands and says, “I was told by my friend to ask you for help with cats. Can you help me, love?”
TW: I personally don’t think there’s any triggers in here BUT. There is talks of how Gaz views the people in the town and he likens them to a cow sooooooo yeah
“Hey, you okay?” Gaz knocks a light tap on the glass. You must’ve been in too long of a thought for him to have to ask. Once he gains your attention again he speaks, “Soap’s been talking about you so much. Wanted to see you for myself.” His eyes seem warmer than Soap’s bright blues. “You’re beautiful,” his eyes trail you up and down. There’s not much light save for what the full moon gives but he and Soap always find you easily. Were you ever able to hide?
You can’t seem to find your words. Your tongue twisted into knots as your fingers tightened over your old shirt that you’ll be needing to wash with the amount of sweat growing.
“Are you sleepy or nervous? Must be both by now,” he says, cooing at you gently, playing the part of a dashing gentleman. If there wasn’t a sharpness to his teeth you probably would’ve forgotten just what he is. “it’s alright, promise I’m not a right bastard like Soap. I swear he doesn’t know how to act around pretty birds like you.” And you do? You nod slowly at him and he's pleased but only for so long. Tapping just once on the glass, “talk to me.” Again, not a question but not a demand either from how his tone is so velvety soft.
Your knees bounces slightly, it’s inevitable that you’ll have to keep up a conversation with him. You wished and maybe hoped that he’d say a little piece and be off but no. He waits for you to get comfortable enough to talk once more. Your body might be a live wire but your brain is actively looking for a way to just sleep. You’re not like these creatures that come knocking at night. You need your sleep and maybe they do too but at least you don’t go banging on the walls or tapping at their windows.
“Comfortable yet?” He asks, albeit there’s something prickly in his warm eyes. Maybe it was always there but you haven’t noticed till now. “You look all soft and sweet sitting there.”
Sweet… “Gaz likes them sweet.. tastes better to him..” Soap’s words that he used earlier have become a wisdom of caution that snaps you out of your silence. “Yeah,” your tone is short and he blinks, the first one to do so. “I’m fine, it’s nice.” The chair being nice but your hips ache from sitting for so long and so does your neck from how it was bent back. You’ll have to massage it come morning. “Could be better.” You’ll probably be too tired to do much so maybe you won’t get that massage.
His shoulders shake a little as he grins. His deceptively warm eyes sucking you in even as you try to be pointed with him. “Have I upset you? Haven’t even spoken to you till now.” He sounds genuine but you know better.
“Soap didn’t tell me I’d get another visitor.” It’s the honest truth but you don’t know if Soap’s made mention to him that he told you what Gaz does at the Townhouse. “Forgive me for being unprepared.” If Soap had told you before running off like he did that Gaz would be here then maybe you’d be acting better than you are.
“Apology accepted, sweetheart.”
You can’t hide your scowl now. Your arms crossing tightly over your chest. “Where’s Soap?” At least Soap is easier to manage… sorta. Gaz plays the part of gentleman extremely well, he’s the kinda guy you’d take to your parents after the second date. The one you’d make scrapbooks for a future wedding before an ‘I love you’ is even said. It’s why you’re so on edge right now. What’s his game? You do your best to choke down your own anger before it gets the better of you. Pissing Gaz off will do you no favors and it sure as hell won't keep Erin safe. Before you can apologize, even when you don’t want to, he answers your question easily.
“He’ll be pleased to know you miss him.” There’s his dazzling smile once more. If your attitude makes him upset then he’s hard pressed to say anything. With Soap you knew he’d get upset by the sound of his accent deepening and how his skin would stretch tight. Gaz gives nothing but a smile and sharp eyes. “To answer your question.” He leans more of his weight to his right side, “he’s off hunting.”
You stiffen a bit. Hunting could mean he’s looking for an unsuspecting animal or… he’s going after a human stupid enough to actually be outside. Is that why he left so suddenly? You have an urge to grab your binoculars to look out but Gaz is standing in the way of you seeing anything important. “What’s… what’s he hunting?” You ask, curiosity and worry bubbling up in your heart. You hope it’s not a person, you hope it’s a rabbit or a bird that’s caught his eye. Something that won’t scream and haunt your nightmares.
His head tilts, “do you really want to know?” His voice sounds amused now, “curiosity ate the cat from all the questions the cat asked after all.” That’s not how the saying goes but perhaps here things are different.
You swallow and shake your head ‘no’ quickly. “Nevermind then.” It doesn’t matter. Deep down you don’t want to know. It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything if it was one of the townsfolk. You’re not a runner, you’d just get in the way and then you’d be their meal. As selfish as it sounds… you don’t know if you’d ever leave your home to save another.
You’re stuck in this cage just as much as your visitors are stuck in their nature. They won’t change their ways anymore than you’ll decide at random to open the door or pull the nails off the windowsill to open the window.
He hums a little tune, one that sounds vaguely familiar. The same one that Soap hums, the same notes from when you were at the dinner with Erin for the first time. The same song Gaz himself hummed when he spotted you at the Townhouse.
“That,” you start and he perks up, “that song.” He nods as if to encourage you, “you and Soap hum that a lot.” The question is why? Why that song in particular?
“Catchy isn’t it?” It’s your turn to nod albeit unsure, “heard Soap humming it a while back and now it’s stuck in here.” Tapping his forehead. He grins a little grin, “must be stuck in yours too for you to have noticed.”
That song isn’t stuck, it follows you. Sometimes you’ll hear it in your nightmares. Especially in the one that’s been plaguing you here recently. Sometimes they’re exactly the same and other times they are slightly tweaked.
Running through the forest. Home is just up head even with how dark it is. The branches pick at your skin as you run and then fall. You look up when you hear a laugh, a person blurry to your vision. Like they’re not all there comes into view and blocks your sight to the house. They stand far away and every step that it takes towards you they hum the song.
“Yeah… you could say that.” Shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, no dream has stuck with you like that one does. That one has been coming around too often for your likening and you’ve started considering it to be a warning. “Why,” you bite your lip to reword any sharp tone that could come out. You take a breath and speak to mimic him in a way. “Can I ask why you are here?”
“I told you, sweetheart.” Tutting softly, “Soap talks about you a lot. Wanted to see you for myself.” His eyes roam yours just for the show of it but he lingers and drags for a few seconds over your neck and chest.
That’s not much for you to go on. There’s always a reason with them. There has to be something more. Why now? Why come when Soap’s gone?
“I can’t come see a pretty bird like you?” He asks and you have a half a mind to think he’s getting upset but there’s no difference in how he’s acting. “Are you Soap’s only?” Grinning wide when your eyes open like a deer in headlights.
“No!” You cough as you stumble over your words, “I just meant,” you sigh and pull yourself together before he gets anymore joy out of this. “What I mean is, is that only why you’re here?”
“Nope.” He pops his ‘p’, he teases now. “I figured it’s time we met. It’s not every day that we get something as curious as you. Landed you somewhere you didn’t want to be in, huh?”
Your hand slowly balls into a fist in the fabric of your shorts. There it is. Now you’re getting somewhere with him. “Yeah, you could say that.” To your credit, you don’t grit your teeth or scowl. You keep neutral or as neutral as you can be. Your hand comes to cover your mouth as you yawn loudly. Rubbing your cheek and staring at him, he hasn’t blinked again. His eyes seem hallowed now, that warmth that was there is gone. Artificial like the artificial sunlight lamp you got your grandpa when you got your first paycheck. It was never real and you knew it but why show it now?
“Do you want to know who I’m talking to?” Of course you do, you’ve been racking your brain since Soap threatened you. You want to know. If you can find out who he’s romancing then you can prevent a massacre. He knows this of course, dangling it over your head and raising it higher and higher when you reach for it.
“Yes.” No point in lying. No point in pretending otherwise like he and Soap and the rest of his friends do.
He brings a finger to tap at his chin in thought. “Now, why should I tell you?” There’s an offer in there, persuade him. Make him give you the answer you so desperately want.
But what can you offer death? What does death even want?
“You can have me.” That’s all you can give. “I’ll open the door to you tomorrow night. You can kill me however you want if you tell me who you’re talking to.” You’ll tell the sheriff once Gaz gives you the answer and then tomorrow night you’ll drink yourself to numbness and wait for hands to rip you apart. At least it’ll be your choice, you’ll be selfish to drink liquor. All their other victims weren’t allowed to prepare but you’ll take your death willingly if it means your only friend in the Townhouse will be safe.
It must be a good deal with how his smile widens but everything sours when he tosses his head back to laugh loudly. He laughs as if you’ve told something so hilarious that even a professional comedian couldn’t hold a candle to you. Maybe you are laughable in saying something like that.
“One meal against how many in there?” He rolls his head to look back at you. Moving up and down on the balls of his feet before settling once more. “Let’s see,” He counts on his fingers the bodies that live in the Townhouse. Each count makes your chest squeeze, he and his friends are incredibly greedy you realize. Hounding for something bigger than what your body can give. For the first time in your life you’re the smallest compared to the rest. Gaz makes a disappointed whistle, “doesn’t seem like a fair trade, don’t you think, sweetheart?” Patronizingly sympathetic as he speaks, maybe he’d pat your head if he was inside the house.
Your teeth grind, he has you against a corner. Backed you in there and made you see that you’re not all that. What else can you offer him?
“Nothing,” he says as if he’s in your head. You stare wide eyed for a fraction of a second, “there’s nothing you can give me.” That forehead of his falls to the glass and you see him clearly for what he is. Despite the kindness and warmth he’s shown, he sheds it fast. “The only reason I haven’t gotten my meal is because now I’m made to wait.” His skin, like Soap’s, stretches little by little. Pulls back and keeps whatever straining to get out to stay put. “Eating you won't satisfy me the way that one will.”
“Because I don’t love you?” Snapping quickly at him and he just grins. You’d liken him to a wolf and a cat with his teeth show.
“Soap told you what I like, hmm?” Licking over his lips, his skin stops thinning out and he’s slowly pulled right back to normal. He’s right back to being a charming man, nothing monstrous underneath him at all. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting something sweet to love him.” He sighs longingly, “sweets are something I prefer. Tastes better on the tongue more than salt, don’t you think?”
Your brows twitch, “you’ll kill him though.” It’s a long shot if he’ll correct you on the gender. You’re hoping to narrow down the men from the women in the Townhouse. “He’ll open the door to you and then you’ll kill him as the rest of your friends will kill everyone else just so you can eat.” It makes you sick to your stomach to even mention it. If you had eaten earlier maybe bile would’ve come up.
There’s an annoyed scoff from him that dampens your bravado. “Do you feel sad when a cow is slaughtered for you to quench your hunger?” His eyes darken, the brown blurring to black as his hand lands on the window. Soaps eyes brightened like an electric blue but Gaz’s deepens like the abyss, reminds you of Mask’s soulless eyes.
“Is that what he is then? Just a cow for you to cut open?” You trail on, is that all anyone breathing is to these creatures? “Never mind that he—“
“You keep saying he,” cold washes over you as his head turns like a cat does to its bird. He watches you with intense observation. You flapped your wings too hard and he caught wind of what you're trying to do. “Clever little minx. Tried to get me to slip up, didn’t you? Thought I’d give something of a detail away to you?” Your heartbeat quickens and he shushes you, probably smelling your anxiety the way Soap can. “It’s no fun if you can narrow down who my ‘cow’ is and even if I did tell you,” he whispers and your ears strain. “What would stop me from going to the Townhouse to just kill them right now once their name is known to you?”
“I—“
“You?” Gaz laughs but there’s no joy in it but sick pleasure. “You’ll what, sweetheart?” Your eyes fall as does your shoulders, “oh don’t look like that. You tried your best, almost had me slip.” He says but it could just be a lie. “How about this,” he sighs like there’s just no way to please you. “I’ll tell you if you give me an exchange?” He sees the tiniest form of confusion and Gaz smiles like prior, “give me ten people and I’ll tell you the name.”
“Ten?” Ten names? But that’s not it and you know it. “I…” what’s to stop him and his friends from still going after the Townhouse. You’ll kill just to get a name and then what? Will they stop? “I-I can’t,” your minds jumbling together, so many pros and cons smashing and making it difficult to be steady in your voice. “I won’t do that.” Who’s to say he or his friends wouldn’t make you do it again?
“Then happy hunting,” he grins and stands. Your heart lurches to your throat as you stand quickly. Your chair is thrown backwards as you press against the window.
“Wait! Wait,” he hasn’t moved, “where are you going? Don’t—“ his index finger comes up and curls over the glass where your face would have been touched if there was no barrier. He crouches once more so he can be better leveled with you.
“I’m not allowed to have my meal just yet.” Your heart doesn’t ease when you hear that but at least the Townhouse gets another night. “The Captain will be speaking with you soon enough.” He rubs his index up and down and you swear you could feel it against your cheek. Whoever this Captain is, you don’t want to meet him but there’s no choice here. There never has been. Gaz speaks softer now, a gentleness that he puts on just for you. “Get some sleep, the suns gonna be coming up in an hour or so.” He leans back so he can look at how the night sky has become lighter.
You don’t say anything as he stands up once more. He jumps down like Soap did and you’re quick to grab your binoculars to watch him. He passes the sheriffs office and keeps heading north till he disappears into the woods. You follow the tree line, looking to see if anyone else is there but your back tenses when it is Mask that you find staring back at you.
He makes no motion, makes no move to turn away. Just stares at you, his boney mask shining better with the night sky that begins to ebb into just the tiniest sliver of sunrise yellow. Mask eventually fades into the woods leaving you to worriedly ponder over everything.
Eventually you toss your binoculars on the bed. You can’t sleep, Frank is coming around with food and even though you’re exhausted you are also hungry for something to eat. Your stomach growls and growls even longer as you sit on the ground. Your head against the wood of the windows edge, the bed is too enticing and even touching it could make you pass out. So you just wait for the coming—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It’s softer than Soap’s and your eyes, try as you might, have to be forced open since they closed without your permission. You stand with a groan as you faintly hear the old man yelling for you to, “come on down, can’t stay asleep forever!” Snorting a heafty laugh, as if you could.
Trudging down the stairs is a chore in itself but you get to your door and open it up for him. He’s got two large brown bags with food for you to use for your week. It smells divine to you, there’s the prettiest red apple that you’ve ever seen peaking out on top and your stomach growls so loud that Frank cocks a worried brow.
“Need food in your stomach,” as he states the obvious you open the door wider for him to step in. “And sleep,” of course he’d notice that, “you look like you’ve been run through the ringer.” He laughs to himself as he sits the bags on the kitchens counter. You try to put them up but he smacks your hand. “Go sit before you pass out here. I swear I’ll never understand young people and their need for staying up late.”
You rub your hand, you could argue with him but all your energy is being put into standing still long enough and then for taking heavy steps to fall on your couch. You faintly hear him rummaging about your kitchen. Muttering under his breath about the cast iron needing help and it doesn’t take long for sleep to take you. It’s safe to sleep with him your mind must think.
He must’ve let you sleep for longer than you would’ve liked when he rouses you, “lunch?” He offers with a plate of breakfast and a kind smile on his face. “It might not taste good, my mom didn’t teach me all that much but I can make a mean omelette.” It looks good and he sells himself short on his cooking.
You hork it down fast not even listening to him chastising you about how you’ll choke. He shoves cup of water in your hand and takes the plate from you so he can clean it. Doesn’t need to clean much since you licked it clean or so he says. He must’ve already ate because he didn’t eat with you and that does make you feel just a bit guilty since you were supposed to eat with him. “Oh well,” you sigh and he pokes a head back.
“What’s that?”
Your head falls on the back of the couch as you peer to look at him. “Sorry for sleeping, I’ve uh..” god, what can you say? What can you tell him without something bad happening? “I’ve got—“
“Nightmares?” He offers and you simply nod. Not a lie but also not a truth. He sighs, making his way to sit on the recliner, “wanna talk… about it?” Rubbing his neck and he looks away before looking at you.
“Not really.”
“That’s fine,” he murmurs, “you don’t have to but,” his fingers tap on his knee, “if you want to. You can tell me. Promise I won’t tell a soul.” He laughs slightly to ease the awkwardness. He’s used to giving orders and keeping people safe, he lends and ear and a shoulder whenever he can but that doesn’t mean that he’s good with this. “I get my fair share of nightmares too.”
“Really?” Makes sense, you turn a bit on your side to lay down fully on your couch. “Mines not something that makes any sense. Too many things and not enough time to figure them out.”
“You wanna figure them out?”
Shrugging your shoulders, “I’m curious.” About your recurring dream and your visitors. He doesn’t need to know about the visitors though.
“You know what they say about curiosity,” he hums with a knowing tone, “curiosity eats the cat when it asks too many questions.” Rolling his eyes just as you scoff. “It’s the truth, sometimes things are better left unlearned.” He rocks now, the point of his shoes pushes off so the recliner will move. “Must be some dream if it’s bothering you so much.”
“It’s… yeah, it is something.” Curling up as best as you can. For a moment you can pretend it’s your grandpa talking to you, for a moment you can pretend you’re back home in that trailer with that old air conditioning that hums. Can even pretend to smell the leather from your old couch to this fabric couch and pretend it’s your grandpa that made you breakfast. Just pretend for even a second that you’re somewhere safe and loved.
“Hey?”
You hide your face, you blame how tired you are for starting to cry so easily. It’s not fair. Why does Frank have to be so nice and observant?
“You okay, hun?” Thankfully he doesn’t stand up but there’s an old gentleness in his eyes that makes you wish you were blind.
“I’m just tired gr— Frank,” biting on your lip when you nearly slip up. “I’m just really tired.”
“I know,” he murmurs softly and the sound of the recliner squeaking comes to a stop. You silently cry and he stays seated, probably because he doesn’t know if he should hug you or tell you the lie that everything is going to be okay. “You know,” he starts as you blink in rapid succession to stop any newer tears. “I used to have this nice barbecue grill,” he stands finally and sits down on the floor. His back to the couch as he nears you but doesn’t make you do anything to move. “God, I loved that thing. Me and my dad,” he makes a sharp whistle, “we’d try to outdo each other.”
Sniffling, “really?” Wiping the stray tears from your cheeks as you look at him.
“Yeah,” he laughs, “one time though.” He rolls his sleeve up on his right arm. A strip of a nasty looking burn mark is faded but still telling, “I got too excited. Hurt myself real bad, some kids,” he sighs at the painful, old memory, “some made fun of me and it made me real sad. Messed with my head a lot and I finally just went and told my dad about it and you know what he said?” Frank turns his head to you, you give him a turn of your head for him to continue wordlessly. “He said, “Frankie, you can let those voices hurt you or you can tell them to shut up and keep going” needless to say, I’m still here.” He gives a tentative pat to your knee. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what’s going on up in there.” Motioning to your head, “it might really be dreams or something else you’re not telling me, and you don’t have to say just what, but whatever’s messing with your head. Sometimes,” he pats again a bit more firmly, “sometimes you just gotta ignore it.”
“This place will chew you up and spit you back out,” parroting what he told you the day you came to the house. Not exactly the same but close enough and he smiles.
“Exactly,” his hand moves but he’s yet to get off the floor. Too old to move too quickly anymore, “don’t let this place change you. If you want me to stay the night then I can do that. Or if you want me to start coming over to make breakfast for you I can.” He offers, “I’m no stranger to spending the night. Sometimes people just need a new perspective, you know? Or sometimes they feel safer with the ‘sheriff’ coming around.” His fingers make a dramatic gesture of quotations around the word. “Don’t want to toot my own horn but I like to think I can be a nice shoulder to lean on. Even for hermit kids like you.”
The good feeling is gone and you sit up just to shove him and he groans like he’s been shot. Ever dramatic in how he bends over.
“Hurting the elderly is a crime here,” he cries as he gets on his back to look up at the ceiling, “I’m never making you an omelette again.” Glaring half heartedly but he’s glad to see you smiling once more.
“Not even if I try to find a grill?” Tempting him like the snake did.
He sits up and his bones pop, “if you find a good enough grill then I’ll make you as many omelettes as you want.”
“So long as I get some ribs. I’d kill for those.”
“And a nice steak?” His hands rub together as an invisible cloud bubble forms over both your heads of all the things you could make on a grill. Eventually you both talk so much about it that you feel better than you did. Can’t even remember why you cried in the first place but you’re grateful for his company.
He gets to leaving albeit he was slow to get going. Apparently his hip has been acting up lately and you offered to help him with making the rounds around the town but he brushed you off. “Get some sleep, kid, if you ever need me to stay or need some old man advice just tell me you need an omelette.” A secret code that only you both will know and understand, “might get eggshells in them from time to time but everyone needs their calcium.” His brows wiggle and your eye rolls hard.
Once he’s gone you’re left alone in this big house. You feel lighter than before. If there was a safer way to tell him what’s really going on then maybe you and him can make a plan. Gaz gave you nothing to work with but he did seem upset about you saying his… cow… is a man. Maybe his ‘love’ isn’t a man but a woman? You head to your kitchen to find everything has been cleaned and put away. Hardly anything to do besides wait for night to come. You could go to your garden but you’d rather just stay in for the day. Tomorrow you’ll garden, you’ll get the little slice of peace back even with the growing pressure.
