Damn! Inhabitants. Julian hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes until he realised he was opening them again to stare blearily at the man in the hallway. He pushed himself on to his back inelegantly, protectively raising his hands to shield his face in case the owner got any funny ideas with that cricket bat.
“Don’t - don’t!” he gasped wearily, his hands shaking as he shivered pathetically on the floor. Things had suddenly become very cold and Julian knew that if he concentrated very hard he would realise he couldn’t feel his legs. “Look, sorry, this is weird for you, yeah? But, just... don’t do anything! At all-”
Julian stopped to cough, great hacking breaths that caught in his chest as he muscles went in to spasm. His arms drooped, suddenly to heavy and unresponsive to be held aloft, and he closed his eyes. “Don’t do ‘nything,” he slurred, his lips numb and cold, “Don’t call ‘n amb’lance. I’m gonna b’back.”
There was one last jarring spasm before Julian finally lay quietly with his hands draped across his face and his jaw hanging disconcertingly slack.
With the coughing and the weary muttering, Rob's annoyance started to gently melt away into concern. He took a few uncertain steps forward, swallowing a little thickly and laying down the cricket bat on the floor. "Be back? What are you talking about- are you alright?" The young man was scaring him a little, if only because he seemed ... ill, more than he seemed drunk. He almost sounded as though he was dying. "Er, hello? Excuse me, are you-" Rob wandered a little closer again, staring at the stranger on his floor who seemed to have passed out.
"Oh god, I hope you haven't died," Rob murmured, leaning closer and very carefully waving his hand around near the young man's mouth and nose, just to check his breathing- before he suddenly leapt back as though the man had bitten him. "Shit!" He stumbled over the cricket bat, almost falling over. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, why-" He leapt away from the hallway, prancing wildly into the dumpy little kitchen and then back, trying to rid himself of the fearful energy that had suddenly taken over him. "Be back?! Be back, you're dead! You're dead, you utter twat!" His voice was about two octaves higher than usual, and he kept jumping around back and forth on the spot as he tried to take in the fact that he had a dead body lying around in his hallway.
Thirty minutes later, Rob, fully dressed and looking flustered as can be, returned to the hallway, draping a throw very, very carefully over the young man on his floor. Something had possessed him from calling for an ambulance, just as the boy had requested. Instead he left a little post-it note by the body saying "teabags in the cupboard above the sink and mugs next to the fridge - please don't steal my stuff, I barely have anything as it is". Scribbly and almost illegible, but it had to do.
Rob left for a very twitchy and uncomfortable day of work.
Reawakening was a less alarming process than dying daily - as soon as the sun began to sink twelve hours later Julian began to stir. He sputtered noisily and took a great, deep, human lungful of air before realising that doing so was quite redundant. His joints creaked painfully as he propped himself up on one elbow and scrubbed at his eyes with a sleeve of his trenchcoat.
Julian paused, frowning from around his hand at his surroundings, before memories of the night before came flooding back. He lowered himself back on to the floor with a groan as he realised what a stupid predicament he’d put himself in. Julian spent a few long seconds listening for any noise in the house and thoughtfully looking up at the peeling ceiling of the hallway as he debated what to do.
Leaving without explaining - or at least apologising - to the poor man was out of the question. Julian prided himself on being a decent fellow and the least he could do was pay for the damage to the door. He pulled at the blanket that had been thrown over him, pleased that at least he’d picked a nice house to die in.
A scrap of yellow caught his gaze. Julian plucked the post-it from its place and held it up above him.
“Tea?” He muttered with a dry mouth. Of course he was thirsty, but what was tea going to do for that? He reattached the post-it note to a bit of the skirting board and started to struggle to his feet.
He took of his coat and scarf before primly folding the blanket, draping them all over a chair in the kitchen. Chewing a thumbnail expectantly he wandered around the room, unsure as to what to do to while away the time until the other man returned. Finally Julian rolled up his sleeves and started doing the dishes.
Rob had actually finished work at five, but he only nervously stepped through his front door at almost eight o'clock. The commute home hadn't taken too long, but anxiety had left the man lingering on his door step for almost two hours, constantly telling himself that he would be fine and he'd think of some way to explain this to the ambulance he'd inevitably have to call as soon as he went inside. That was providing no one else had gone inside to discover the body first - the door wasn't exactly inconspicuous, given that it had no handle and all. Rob mourned the hole in his door for a little while, chilly hands stuffed into his pockets and his scarf pulled up to cover his cold nose and mouth. This meant that the house would be an absolute ice-box again. His moody radiators were a real pain in the arse during the winter. It also meant that he'd have to get the door repaired again - his dead end little job in a call centre was only just enough to support him without endless repairs. Then again, Rob was almost a hermit. He didn't spend much money.
The darkness and lurking around on his own doorstep eventually alerted Rob to the fact that he was being a jolly old idiot, and he pushed his door open and poked his head inside.
He couldn't help making a somewhat pathetic noise between a yell and a whimper when he saw that the body was gone. This either signified that he was going to be arrested in a matter of minutes, or the boy really did come "back" as he promised earlier this morning. "Hello?" Rob's voice was a little faint and miserable, and he made no attempt to hide it. "If the police is here, I swear I didn't kill him, he just came in and ... died."
As the life continued to seep back in to his limbs so had Julian’s other faculties; after half an hour of pottering around the kitchen he realised he could hear someone outside the front door. Despite knowing that it was good form to invite the poor fellow back inside his own house Julian remained in the kitchen with a suppressed wave of guilt. He filled the kettle and sat down, fitfully pushing a salt cellar around the table as he waited for the man to pluck up the courage to come inside.
When he finally did Julian scrambled to his feet, nervously pulling at one sleeve of his knitted jumper and leaning out to look in to the hallway. “Ah, hello. No police here.” Julian waved, trying to look as cheery and non-threatening as possible. “Just me.”
He coughed and gestured at the door behind the man. “Sorry about the door. And for the whole-” he emphatically gestured again, this time to the place where he had died on the rug. “-thing I did earlier. Diabetic coma. Happens every now and again. Such a pain.”
It was an awful lie and Julian was an awful liar but he carried on relentlessly. “I’m happy to pay for the damage and everything. I’ll pop a cheque through the letter box, shall I?”
The sound of the young man's voice, considerably more healthy sounding than earlier, made Rob jump almost a foot in the air, making him wobble backwards and fall against his door, banging it awkwardly shut. He stared at Julian for a few seconds, aghast, eyes like saucers and mouth open like a goldfish. Speaking didn't work, and until his tongue decided it would work again, he simply waved his arms around actively, pointing from Julian to the rug, back and forth until words started spilling out of his mouth, in much the same voice as this morning. It was as if someone had just taken the cricket bat to his crotch.
"Dia- diabetic coma?! Are you having a laugh? Diabetic comas don't stop you from breathing!" Insert more flailing arm movements here. "You could have said something! Not 'don't call an ambulance', but 'hi here's a diabetic coma for you to deal with!'" Rob wasn't so much outraged as he was utterly flabbergasted. He was so sure that someone had died in his hallway this morning that he'd spent the entire day agonising over it. He'd been a lifeless bastard to all the poor morons calling in all day. He was usually known for being so cheerful and pleasant. "You died! You absolutely died, I swear by my life!"
Oh don’t swear by that,Julian thought to himself as spread his hands in frantic reassurance. “No, honestly, it was just a really intense diabetes thing!” He insisted weakly as he retreated back to the other side of the table and debated making this poor man some tea.
“Look, I know it was rotten of me,” he added quickly, desperate to move away from his awful coma excuse as he poked around for the teabags. “I didn’t have much time to explain. I don’t normally do this kind of thing to people, I promise...”
He looked up from his place by the cupboard. “I’m Julian, by the way. I did your dishes.”
The only response Rob could make was another somewhat sad noise of confusion, absently pulling off his scarf and flinging it onto his coat stand with a curious sweeping motion, making sure that he wasn't touching the stand itself. He did the same with his coat - he didn't want to touch anything. Not now. Treading softly, as if he thought he was going to smash through the floorboards with every step, he moved towards the kitchen, frowning a little. "You die in my hallway in the morning, do my dishes in the evening. I believe you're the most unusual house guest I've ever had."
He wasn't going to take the diabetic coma story. He just couldn't. It seemed almost as absurd as the apparent death and revival concept at this rate.
"I'm Robert," he added quickly, completely forgetting his manners. "Uh, well, Rob. No one calls me Robert. Except my boss." Hm. Very smoothly done, he thought. "Rob. It's ... nice to meet you, I suppose, no matter how peculiar the circumstances. And- and don't worry about the door. You don't need to pay me for it or anything." It struck him as a little unfair to potentially take money off of someone who was either dead or in a coma earlier that day.
[Julian nodded but didn't extend a hand Rob's way, preferring instead to keep some distance between them. Without blood not only was he painfully aware of how thirsty he was but also incredibly cold-skinned - something he didn't think he could explain away as being related to the diabetes any more than he could his nightly death and resurrection.]
No, no, I insist. I can get a cheque to you by the morning.
[It was delicately phrased and technically true]
Doing the dishes was the least I could do. Sorry I didn't have time to do more. How do you like your tea?
And I insist- don't bother. [ Rob also kept his distance, staying in the doorway instead of coming any closer to Julian. He rarely came close to anyone, in fact. In crowds he always tried to make himself as small as possible, hands in his pockets, head down low. Inconspicuous and forgettable. He liked it that way. It made life just that little bit easier. ]
Uhm, I don't think it's a very good idea for me to have tea right now. [ He instinctively took a little, nervous step back. ] Thanks, though- thank you for the offer.
[Julian studied Rob's face in surprise. He didn't consider himself particularly clever but even he could see that Rob was clearly uncomfortable. He put the teaspoon he had found down and obligingly stepped away from the kettle.]
Right. Okay. [He didn't want to question it for fear of further upsetting the man. He hovered by the sink thoughtfully.]
Thank you for the blanket, by the way. That was a nice touch. [Helpfully:] And I didn't steal anything, you can check!
[ Rob was relieved; he didn't have to touch anything. That was good. He relaxed a little, tense shoulders dropping into his customary, comfortable little slouch. ] You were all shivery before. I thought if I was going to abandon you in my hallway all day, I could at least make you a little comfier.
I don't doubt it. [ A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. ] There's nothing worth stealing here anyway, if I'm perfectly honest. [ He paused, a little awkwardly, looking for a way to propel the conversation onwards. ] So... are you type one or two? If you don't mind me asking.
[Julian cringed and quickly turned away to pretend to be really absorbed at looking at the pattern on the kitchen tiles. He screwed his eyes shut and spoke in a forced, overly-bright voice:] Oh! Yeah! No, I do! It's... Type two?
[It was a painfully obvious guess; Julian couldn't even hide the interrogative lilt at the end. He really couldn't stop himself from lying; coming clean about his true nature was something he hadn't done in a very, very long time]
[ Rob was back to wild gesticulation and jumping up and down, his excitement and mild fear getting the better of him. ] You! You didn't have a diabetic episode coma thing in my hallway today! I have no idea what happened, but it was not a coma!
I- [ suddenly he stopped, trying to calm himself down, folding his arm tightly against his chest. ] Sorry. Sorry! I literally just turned into a twelve year old on the spot. [ He looked ridiculously embarrassed, his cheeks flushed bright pink. ]
“Don’t - don’t!” he gasped wearily, his hands shaking as he shivered pathetically on the floor. Things had suddenly become very cold and Julian knew that if he concentrated very hard he would realise he couldn’t feel his legs. “Look, sorry, this is weird for you, yeah? But, just... don’t do anything! At all-”
Julian stopped to cough, great hacking breaths that caught in his chest as he muscles went in to spasm. His arms drooped, suddenly to heavy and unresponsive to be held aloft, and he closed his eyes. “Don’t do ‘nything,” he slurred, his lips numb and cold, “Don’t call ‘n amb’lance. I’m gonna b’back.”
There was one last jarring spasm before Julian finally lay quietly with his hands draped across his face and his jaw hanging disconcertingly slack.
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"Oh god, I hope you haven't died," Rob murmured, leaning closer and very carefully waving his hand around near the young man's mouth and nose, just to check his breathing- before he suddenly leapt back as though the man had bitten him. "Shit!" He stumbled over the cricket bat, almost falling over. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, why-" He leapt away from the hallway, prancing wildly into the dumpy little kitchen and then back, trying to rid himself of the fearful energy that had suddenly taken over him. "Be back?! Be back, you're dead! You're dead, you utter twat!" His voice was about two octaves higher than usual, and he kept jumping around back and forth on the spot as he tried to take in the fact that he had a dead body lying around in his hallway.
Thirty minutes later, Rob, fully dressed and looking flustered as can be, returned to the hallway, draping a throw very, very carefully over the young man on his floor. Something had possessed him from calling for an ambulance, just as the boy had requested. Instead he left a little post-it note by the body saying "teabags in the cupboard above the sink and mugs next to the fridge - please don't steal my stuff, I barely have anything as it is". Scribbly and almost illegible, but it had to do.
Rob left for a very twitchy and uncomfortable day of work.
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Julian paused, frowning from around his hand at his surroundings, before memories of the night before came flooding back. He lowered himself back on to the floor with a groan as he realised what a stupid predicament he’d put himself in. Julian spent a few long seconds listening for any noise in the house and thoughtfully looking up at the peeling ceiling of the hallway as he debated what to do.
Leaving without explaining - or at least apologising - to the poor man was out of the question. Julian prided himself on being a decent fellow and the least he could do was pay for the damage to the door. He pulled at the blanket that had been thrown over him, pleased that at least he’d picked a nice house to die in.
A scrap of yellow caught his gaze. Julian plucked the post-it from its place and held it up above him.
“Tea?” He muttered with a dry mouth. Of course he was thirsty, but what was tea going to do for that? He reattached the post-it note to a bit of the skirting board and started to struggle to his feet.
He took of his coat and scarf before primly folding the blanket, draping them all over a chair in the kitchen. Chewing a thumbnail expectantly he wandered around the room, unsure as to what to do to while away the time until the other man returned. Finally Julian rolled up his sleeves and started doing the dishes.
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The darkness and lurking around on his own doorstep eventually alerted Rob to the fact that he was being a jolly old idiot, and he pushed his door open and poked his head inside.
He couldn't help making a somewhat pathetic noise between a yell and a whimper when he saw that the body was gone. This either signified that he was going to be arrested in a matter of minutes, or the boy really did come "back" as he promised earlier this morning. "Hello?" Rob's voice was a little faint and miserable, and he made no attempt to hide it. "If the police is here, I swear I didn't kill him, he just came in and ... died."
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When he finally did Julian scrambled to his feet, nervously pulling at one sleeve of his knitted jumper and leaning out to look in to the hallway. “Ah, hello. No police here.” Julian waved, trying to look as cheery and non-threatening as possible. “Just me.”
He coughed and gestured at the door behind the man. “Sorry about the door. And for the whole-” he emphatically gestured again, this time to the place where he had died on the rug. “-thing I did earlier. Diabetic coma. Happens every now and again. Such a pain.”
It was an awful lie and Julian was an awful liar but he carried on relentlessly. “I’m happy to pay for the damage and everything. I’ll pop a cheque through the letter box, shall I?”
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"Dia- diabetic coma?! Are you having a laugh? Diabetic comas don't stop you from breathing!" Insert more flailing arm movements here. "You could have said something! Not 'don't call an ambulance', but 'hi here's a diabetic coma for you to deal with!'" Rob wasn't so much outraged as he was utterly flabbergasted. He was so sure that someone had died in his hallway this morning that he'd spent the entire day agonising over it. He'd been a lifeless bastard to all the poor morons calling in all day. He was usually known for being so cheerful and pleasant. "You died! You absolutely died, I swear by my life!"
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“Look, I know it was rotten of me,” he added quickly, desperate to move away from his awful coma excuse as he poked around for the teabags. “I didn’t have much time to explain. I don’t normally do this kind of thing to people, I promise...”
He looked up from his place by the cupboard. “I’m Julian, by the way. I did your dishes.”
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He wasn't going to take the diabetic coma story. He just couldn't. It seemed almost as absurd as the apparent death and revival concept at this rate.
"I'm Robert," he added quickly, completely forgetting his manners. "Uh, well, Rob. No one calls me Robert. Except my boss." Hm. Very smoothly done, he thought. "Rob. It's ... nice to meet you, I suppose, no matter how peculiar the circumstances. And- and don't worry about the door. You don't need to pay me for it or anything." It struck him as a little unfair to potentially take money off of someone who was either dead or in a coma earlier that day.
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No, no, I insist. I can get a cheque to you by the morning.
[It was delicately phrased and technically true]
Doing the dishes was the least I could do. Sorry I didn't have time to do more. How do you like your tea?
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Uhm, I don't think it's a very good idea for me to have tea right now. [ He instinctively took a little, nervous step back. ] Thanks, though- thank you for the offer.
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Right. Okay. [He didn't want to question it for fear of further upsetting the man. He hovered by the sink thoughtfully.]
Thank you for the blanket, by the way. That was a nice touch. [Helpfully:] And I didn't steal anything, you can check!
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I don't doubt it. [ A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. ] There's nothing worth stealing here anyway, if I'm perfectly honest. [ He paused, a little awkwardly, looking for a way to propel the conversation onwards. ] So... are you type one or two? If you don't mind me asking.
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Sorry, am I what? [His face creased a little in confusion] I'm... I don't know. What do you mean?
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[ He trailed off, peering at Julian intently. ] You. Do not have diabetes.
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[It was a painfully obvious guess; Julian couldn't even hide the interrogative lilt at the end. He really couldn't stop himself from lying; coming clean about his true nature was something he hadn't done in a very, very long time]
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I- [ suddenly he stopped, trying to calm himself down, folding his arm tightly against his chest. ] Sorry. Sorry! I literally just turned into a twelve year old on the spot. [ He looked ridiculously embarrassed, his cheeks flushed bright pink. ]
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