Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was late noon, and Wireface had just finished his lunch. It was some sort of soup the homeowner had made, filled with potatoes and carrots. Wireface had scarfed it down and cleaned his dish quickly, brushing off the teenager who pushed her finished bowl to him. He knew she wanted him to clean it for her, but he didn’t want to delay his plans.

Wireface speed walked to the closet, not wanting to alarm anyone if he ran. He shut the door behind him, alerting the paranoid red haired woman of his presence. She let out a short scream before she calmed down, noticing it was only him. Wireface muttered a small apology, sitting on the floor with his back to the shelf.

Wireface fished out the aura camera the homeowner had reluctantly given him, its sleek black design shining in the dim overhead light. A slight smile grazed Wireface’s lips as he ran his fingers gingerly across the camera’s buttons. He had been begging for it ever since he had his photo taken, he so desperately needed a new way to entertain himself. All that Wireface had was playing worn down board games he couldn’t read the instructions of and his own imagination.

The confused voice of the woman he had come to know over the past few days drew his attention away from the object in his hands.

“Hliib, dszg?” Wireface leaned his head towards her as he asked.

(Sorry, what?)

“Ummm...why do you have the guy's camera?” The woman asked, her hand coming up to her mouth. She bit at her thumb nail, her white teeth gnawing at the nail. A nervous habit of hers, Wireface had noticed.

“R’n hliib, R xzm’g fmwvihgzmw blf, dszg wrw blf hzb?” Wireface’s eyebrows knit together, his confused face encouraging to continue.

(I’m sorry, I can’t understand you, what did you say?)

“U-um...hahaha…” The other shook a bit nervously in tandem with her laughter, lowering her hand from her mouth. She looked deep in thought for a moment, and Wireface was about to go back to the camera before she began to move again.

Her hands came up in front of one of her eyes in the shape of a rectangle. Her index finger moved up and down, and she made a noise to accompany it. She lowered her hands and looked nervously expectant at Wireface.

Was she imitating a camera? Wireface pointed to the camera and tilted his head in his silent question. The woman nodded.

Was she asking something about the camera? Like, how did it work?

“Ru blf’iv dimwvirmt sld rg dliph, R xzm hsld blf.” Wireface offered, face brightening up a bit at the opportunity to take photos. He brought it up to his face mimicking the girl, but she waved her hands frantically.

(If you’re wondering how it works, I can show you.)

“Hahaha! No, I don’t want my photo taken. Haha...I just wanted to know why you had the um…” Her sentence trailed off when the look of confusion returned to his face. She instead looked down, thinking about how she could charades this. She then brought her hands up in front of her, moving one hand in a back and forth motion quickly, imitating the cocking of a shotgun. She then did the same motion she did earlier, pointing to the camera in his hands.

Wireface observed her movements, trying to decipher their meaning. The cocking of a shotgun...the camera…

Wireface blinked in realization.

“Ziv blf zhprmt dsb R szev gsv slnvldmvih xznviz?” Her brows were furrowed in bewilderment, but she hesitantly nodded.

(Are you asking why I have the homeowners camera?)

“Fs, dvoo blf ivnvnyvi szermt blfi kslgl gzpvm?” Wireface didn’t allow her time to respond, “Dvoo, R szevm’g gzpvm kslglh rm z dsrov, zmw R dzmgvw gl kizxgrxv. Rg fhvw gl yv z slyyb lu nrmv rm srts hxsllo.” By the time Wireface had finished speaking, his lips were curled upwards from the delight of engaging an old pass time. Memories of photos being printed, strung up around his room. Snap shots of him and his friends from his teenage years.

Looking up, the woman across from him had her eyes knitted together, mouth in a deep frown and eyes narrowed. Wireface sighed heavily.

(Uh, well you remember having your photo taken? Well, I haven’t taken photos in a while, and I wanted to practice. It used to be a hobby of mine.)

The woman’s uneven shoulders shook with anxious laughter, rocking back and forth a bit.

“Hahaha..Sorry, I didn’t get like, any of that…” The woman said the word ‘sorry’ so many times he recognized it.

“Rg’h urmv.” It wasn’t, but Wireface had gotten used to the disappointment of no one understanding a word he said. He waved the woman off, going back to the camera he held. She seemed to get what he meant, making a small noise before she slipped back into the corner.

(It’s fine.)

Wireface sighed, shoulders slumping. He had no idea what to practice his photography skills on, he wasn’t too good at landscapes or still lifes. Portraits and headshots were the ones he was best at.

Wireface had already eliminated the paranoid woman and the homeowner as contestants for his models. The former for her extreme anxiety, she’d probably be fidgeting the whole time Wireface wanted her to stay still. The latter was disregarded for obvious reasons. The damn hermit never left his room unless needed.

Wireface let his head hit the wall behind him as he thought of who else in the house were eligible for his photo subject.

In the kitchen there was a short man that had one eye shut, a woman who looked like she had just left a coven, and two young girls that–from what Wireface had seen–didn’t get along very well.

The bathroom housed a man who smelled like he had just gotten out of a fight with a skunk and a mourning woman who kept her dead husband's body in the bathtub.

A man who was outstandingly cheerful sat in a chair in the office.

The living room contained a freakishly tall man who stunk of beer and cigarettes, a woman only a few inches taller than Wireface himself, and a man who was cold despite the cataclysm, his shivering echoing throughout the room.

Wireface contemplated his options.

The short man might’ve allowed him to take a photo, but he didn’t seem like the type to play charades long enough to understand Wireface. The witch more than likely would allow him to snap a few photos, but in all honesty she creeped Wireface out too much. The teenager and the little girl probably wouldn’t comprehend his request, the former more out of malice than the other.

Wireface couldn’t stand the smell of the man in the bathroom, and he didn’t have the heart to bother the sorrowful woman.

The cheerful man would more than likely allow him, Wireface felt like he was the friendliest in the house.

From Wireface’s observations, the tall man didn’t seem very social. The tall woman also creeped Wireface out much like the witch, her overall demeanor radiating something he couldn’t quite place, feeling shudders whenever her red eyes found his. The cold man never left his spot on the couch, so Wireface doubted he would move enough for photos.

The cheerful man in the office seemed like the preferable candidate, so Wireface decided to begin with him.

Emerging from the closet, Wireface shut the door gently. The camera was held in one hand as he walked to the office, turning the knob.

The stench of death hit his nose before he saw anything.

The door swung open fully as Wireface’s hand slipped from the knob. The chair and floor near it were stained a deep red–almost brown color, no body in sight. Wireface felt sick. He shuffled his feet, his heart thumping in his chest. The feeling of dread and disgust settled deep into his chest, breathing accelerating as he kept staring. Was the cheerful man a visitor? He didn’t hear the tell-tale sign of the gunshot at all. Was he killed by a visitor? If so, who was it? Was it the same woman who slept in the cramped closet with him? Was it the homeowner?

Wireface let out a shaky breath, pulling the door shut slowly before his thoughts sent him into a full-blown panic.

So the cheerful man was unavailable.

Wireface swallowed. His saliva felt as thick as lead. The camera slipped into his jean pocket.

His feet were almost on autopilot as his mind was distracted. He entered the kitchen, going to sit at the table.

The short man noticed him, saying a greeting but Wireface ignored him. The witch had hummed at his silence. Wireface felt his leg bounce under the table as he tried desperately to keep his mind away from the scene in the office. The rest of the kitchen blurred and warped as he stared at the wall, his head and the sides of his eyes beginning to hurt.

A small tug on his shirt pulled him from his thoughts.

Wireface looked down, his eyes focusing after a bit of difficulty. The little girl looked up at him, asking him something while holding up some papers and crayons. He responded with a look of confusion, tilting his head at her.

“Dszg?” Wireface inquired, and the little girl made a face and giggled. She climbed awkwardly with a bit of trouble onto one of his legs, swinging her feet as they dangled from the chair. Through Wireface’s bewilderment at her actions, he made sure to hold onto her side to make sure she didn’t fall off.

(What?)

“You speak funny.” The little girl muttered. Wireface looked up to the witch, hoping she could translate, but she instead glanced back at him with a shrug of her shoulders. A pleased smile graced her features, and Wireface looked away.

“R’n hliib, dszg wrw blf hzb?” Wireface tried to ask, but she only laughed again. Wireface sighed and leaned against the back of his chair.

(I’m sorry, what did you say?)

The little girl went back to drawing, a purple crayon in her hand as the others sprawled out on the table. She stuck her tongue out, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Wireface was busy looking at the ceiling.

After a while, the girl turned to face Wireface and tapped his shoulder. He looked down at her, eyebrow raised.

She showed him the drawing she was working on, the contents of a purple girl–herself, Wireface assumed–and a green man who had red around his mouth. His hair was purple like the girls, his face blank while hers was joyful. The drawings were intricate, the hair and facial features drawn in impressive detail.

She pointed to the girl; “That's me,” then her finger moved to the man; “and that's you!”

Wireface gathered the little girl had drawn the two of them. Wireface took hold of the paper with one hand, making sure to not crinkle it. Wireface examined the drawing closer, a smile stretching the puncture holes on his face.

“Dld! Gsvhv ziv ivzoob tllw! Gsrh wvhvievh gl yv uiznvw!” Wireface moved the paper to look at the little girl, who was still grinning at him. His smile widened.

(Wow! These are really good! This deserves to be framed!)

The little girl chuckled, going to grab the paper back, but Wireface pulled it away at the last moment, and the girl made a confused noise. Wireface let it fall back onto the table, and gently placed the girl back onto the floor.

She watched him in curiosity as he stood, grabbed the drawing, and headed towards the fridge. He grabbed a random unused magnet, and held the paper up as he hung it by the magnet.

Wireface stood back and looked down at the girl, holding out his right hand to the fridge.

“Gsviv! Mld rg’h kfg lm wrhkozb uli veviblmv gl hvv.” He announced to the girl, his hands on his hips as he beamed.

(There! Now it’s on display for everyone to see.)

Her boots made contact with the tile of the kitchen, looking up at the hung drawing. She looked at it, her smile lines pronounced and prominent. She turned her gaze to Wireface, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the table. Wireface helped her up this time, hovering his hand near his side in case she slipped.

The little girl held out a green crayon to him, and he took it gingerly, taking the piece of paper she offered him. They drew in joint silence, the little girl drawing herself and Wireface drawing the cat.

“What’s your name?” The little girl interrupted the silence, asking him without looking up.

“Dszg?” Wireface lifted his head to her, pausing his doodling.

Before the little girl could ask again, the witch stopped her.

“Just tell him your name, darling.” The witch’s lips stretched into a thin smile. Wireface looked between the two.

“Oh, okay!” Her feet swung and bumped into Wireface's legs. He didn't mind. The little girl turned to him, “my name is Liza!”

“...Liza?” Wireface looked down at her, blinking a few times, she nodded, “Ziv blf gvoormt nv blfi mznv fh ‘Liza’? Ru gszg’h gsv xzhv, nb mznv rh Avtandil.”

(Are you telling me your name is Liza? If that's the case, my name is Avtandil.)

Liza made a contemplative face, pursing her lips. She pointed to Wireface.

“Avt-Avta…” She trailed off, obviously having some trouble saying his name.

“Avtandil.” He pointed to himself. Wireface helped her sound out his name, high-fiving her when she got it right.

The sound of a bag hitting the table made Wireface jump, turning to see the teenager joining them at the table. She began rummaging through her backpack, then looked up to him.

“What.” Her tone made Wireface look away quickly, muttering an apology for staring.

Wireface and Liza went back to drawing on their respective papers. The teenager took out a notepad, trying and failing to sneakily take one of the crayons. Wireface gathered the drawing utensils and put them in the middle for easier access. He couldn’t see it, but it seemed the teenager was appreciative of him including her.

The three of them sat at the table, the homeowner passing through, grabbing a beer and heading back out into the hallway. During this short journey, the cat the tall woman had brought trotted inside.

Wireface reached out and the cat bounded to him, sniffing him before rubbing against his legs. He smiled as he felt the warmth of the cat as it brushed against him.

It jumped up onto the counter, sitting where the table met the wall. Wireface had finished his drawing a little bit before the cat had entered, so he raised his hand to pet the cat's head. It purred, brushing its head against his fingers. Wireface’s grin widened as the teenager joined him, petting the cat on its back.

“Wl zmb lu blf pmld gsv prggb’h mznv? Rh rg z ylb li z trio?” Wireface asked the occupants of the table, only being met with varying looks of puzzled expressions. He sighed lightly and laughed it off.

(Do any of you know the kitty’s name? Is it a boy or a girl?)

“Gsv x-xzg’h mznv rh ‘Mzkviwrhs’, R s-svziw gsv l-ldmvi xzoo rg gszg. R wlm’g pmld gsv t-t-tvmwvi gslfts.” A gruff voice behind him made Wireface flinch, almost screaming before he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

(The c-cats name is ‘Naperdish’, I h-heard the o-owner call it that. I don’t know the g-g-gender though.)

Wireface froze, then turned around at a snail's pace. The cold man was looking at him with lowered lids as he held a carrot, his hand shaking. For whatever reason, Wireface hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen.

Wireface gawked at the cold man, who got increasingly awkward the longer the other stared. He eventually turned to walk to the sink, shutting the door of the fridge.

Wireface stumbled to raise and lower the girl onto the chair, walking over urgently to the cold man. He was washing the carrot under the running sink water, the dirt washing away

“Blf, fn blf fs…” The man looked back at him with curious, wary eyes, “Blf hkvzp Tvlitrzm?”

(You, um you uh...you speak Georgian?”

The man seemed to relax a bit when Wireface finished his question, turning the water off and opening a cupboard.

“Ls bvzs, R-R o-ovzimvw rg wfirmt x-xloovtv.” The cold man grabbed a cutting board, reaching into a drawer to grab a small knife. He laid the still-wet carrot onto the cutting board, bringing the knife to the start of it.

(Oh yeah, I-I l-learned it during c-college.)

Wireface swallowed again, hands fiddling with each other in barely concealed excitement.

Finally, someone here who could understand him.

Chapter Text

A giggle slipped past Wireface’s lips, watching with increased amusement as Sergey–the cold man’s name, he’s come to learn–pushed the cat away as he sniffled. Wireface learned that the shorter of the two was allergic to cats. But much to the cold man’s displeasure, the cat seemed to like him.

It was nearing midnight, most of the occupants of the kitchen had left in favor to play some random board game in the living room. Sergey and Wireface had been chatting for a few hours, the homeowner had eventually come inside to start cooking dinner.

He had looked surprised at Sergey speaking Georgian, but didn’t comment on it, going to rummaging through the fridge and turning on the stove. Then the homeowner noticed a carrot was missing, and scolded Sergey briefly for taking food without asking.

The smell of beef, mushrooms, and a few sauces eventually began to waft through the kitchen’s walls. Wireface relished in the savory scent.

After watching Sergey struggle some more, Wireface grabbed Naperdish and sat the cat in his lap. Continuing his conversation with the cold man sitting diagonally from him, Wireface felt more comfortable than he had in days. He finally had someone understand him, someone he could talk to without having to act as a mime.

The two of them had switched from topic to topic, the cold one had been opening up just a smidge. Wireface had even been able to get a few laughs out of him.

A knock at the door had cut in to the twos conversation, the homeowner taking notice and lowering the heat of the stove. He turned to Sergey and after a quick mostly one-sided conversation, he left the kitchen. Sergey got up with a grunt and shuffled his way over to the pot, stirring it a bit with a ladle.

Wireface watched him, petting Naperdish absentmindedly. The cats purring vibrated throughout his body.

The other man did not continue their interrupted chat, instead putting all his focus on the simmering dish. So Wireface busied himself with petting the cat.

The cat's soft fur comforted him, reminding Wireface of his own cats back home. He quickly shook the thought out of his head, not wanting to put a damper on his current mood with his worries. Wireface was sure they were fine back home, cats are resilient. At least he hoped they were resilient enough for the hell the world was currently.

He sighed, his fingers slowing down just a tad. The cat noticed however, staring up at him. He stared back, tilting his head at the small creature. It meowed up at him, its unique voice grabbing the attention of Sergey.

“Fts, gszg xzg r-rh hfxs zm z-zmmlbzmxv.”

(Ugh, that cat i-is such an a-annoyance.)

“DSZG? Mzkviwrhs rh hl mrxv gslfts.”

(WHAT? Naperdish is so nice though!)

“Bvzs, m-mrxv gl blf. Z-zoo rg wlvh rh nzpv nb h-hprm rgxsb zmw n-nzpv nv hmvvav zmw xlfts o-orpv R szev s-szb uvevi.”

(Yeah, n-nice to you. A-all it does is make my s-skin itchy and m-make me sneeze and cough l-like I have h-hay fever.)

“Zs, irtsg. Blf’iv zoovitrx.”

(Ah, right. You’re allergic.)

“Nsn. Y-yvvm zoovitrx h-hrmxv R dzh z prw.”

(Mhm. B-been allergic s-since I was a kid.)

“R dlfow zhhfnv hl.”

(I would assume so.)

“B-blf xzm w-wvevolk z-zoovitrvh o-ozgvi rm o-oruv.”

(Y-you can d-develop a-allergies l-later in l-life.)

“Xzm blf?”

(Can you?)

“R g-gsrmp hl.”

(I t-think so.)

The homeowner returned then, a man with pants pulled up ridiculously high only a few paces behind him. The other man looked around the kitchen, seeing the seat next to Wireface. The man pulled out the chair for himself, sitting down as he continued to look around the room.

Sergey returned to his chair, looking at the man, then at Wireface. He made a brief face before it went back to its normal deadpan.

Wireface heard the stove turn off, then the sound of plates and bowls shuffling. A few minutes later a bowl of the food the homeowner had been preparing was placed in front of him, Sergey’s plate followed shortly after. Wireface heard the man next to him getting a plate, telling the homeowner what Wirefaced assumed to be a ‘thank you’.

Wireface stole a peek over to Sergey, watching him dig into it like it was going to be ripped away from him if he didn’t.

“Dszg rh rg?” Wireface asked, a tinge of concern accenting his voice.

(What is it?)

“Yvvu hgiltzmluu. Rg’h kivggb tllw, gib rg.” Sergey didn’t even look up when he answered.

(Beef stroganoff. It’s pretty good, try it.)

“R’w zhhfnv rg rh, blf’iv vzgrmt rg orpv z izyrw zmrnzo.” Wireface’s face was scrunched in disbelief at how fast he was eating it, pieces of uneaten meat and mushroom stuck to Sergey’s face.

Sergey paused and moved his head up, seeing Wireface’s expression, then the new guests. The new guest's face was a look of shock and strangely awe, just watching Sergey in fascination.

(I’d assume it is, you’re eating it like a rabid animal.)

“Ls. Llkh.” Sergey didn’t stop how savage he was eating it, somehow keeping that cool expression on like he always did.

(Oh. Oops.)

Wireface sighed with an entertained tone, going over to his food. He lifted up the fork provided, and brought it to his mouth.

Wireface hummed as the heat of the beef warmed his stomach. He understood now why Sergey was eating the dish the way he was.

The door opened behind him, a few pairs of feet shuffling in. The room was filled with conversations, but he was too preoccupied to notice who exactly it was. It felt cozy, even if it was just for a few minutes. The warmth of homemade food, the company of a new found friend, familiar voices filling the small room, it felt like back home. Wireface smiled as he ate, his wounds hurting for a split second.

And as quickly as the voices and shuffling feet entered the room, they left just as fast.

Sergey had gotten up for seconds after the other guests left, pouring himself a bigger portion than his first serving had. Wireface let out a small laugh, his hands landing on his legs.

Wireface felt a hard object protruding from his right pocket.

“Ls! R szw zonlhg ulitlggvm,” Sergey peered over at Wireface as the latter began to pull something out of his pocket, “Xzm R gzpv blfi kslgl?”

(Oh! I had almost forgotten. Can I take your photo?)

Chapter Text

The dim overhead light of the closet illuminated the room, making Sergey’s face look softer. He was sitting with his back against the shelves, discarding his overcoat in favor of Wireface’s hoodie. The taller of the two thought it would help with the man's shivering, and Sergey thanked him despite it not seeming to help his case in the slightest.

Wireface sat opposite to him, fiddling with the camera and figuring out how it worked. He was over the moon that Sergey had agreed to having photos of him taken, accompanying him to the closet with little resistance.

The red haired woman was gone, residing in the living room as the other adults had been drinking and mingling. They had started the routine of socializing every night the day after the overly cheerful man had arrived, having thought it would bring up morale.

Wireface presumed the other guests only joined because there was promised alcohol.

The two inhabitants of the closet sat in a comfortable silence, the constant shivering from Sergey and the occasional subtle clicking of the camera’s settings breaking it.

Sergey had his arms wrapped around himself like usual, looking up at the boxes residing on the shelves. His fingers tapped against his trembling arms in a rhythmic pattern.

With a final adjustment, Wireface hummed in satisfaction as he held the camera up to his eyes.

“Lpzb, R gsrmp R tlg gsv hvggrmth irtsg,” Sergey peeked up at Wireface as he began to speak, “Xzm blf klhv?”

(Okay, I think I got the settings right. Can you pose?)

“Fs, sld w-wl blf dzmg n-nv gl klhv?” Sergey moved his arm up awkwardly, his elbow bending.

(Uh, how d-do you want m-me to pose?)

“Fn…qfhg gib gl ollp mzgfizo, R dzmg gl gib xzmwrw kslglh urihg.” Wireface requested, Sergey nodding in turn. Sergey moved his arm down to rest his elbow on his knee, his hand falling into the palm of his hand. He looked directly at the camera, it felt more like a photo shoot than a candid photo.

Wireface supposed it was good enough.

(Um, just try to look natural, I want to try candid photos first.)

The camera’s flash caused Sergey’s eyes to close on instinct, the light attacking his retinas. The photo began to print out of the top, slowly falling out. Wireface caught it before it dropped to the floor.

Wireface shook it a bit, hurrying the development process. He inspected the polaroid, seeing a person's silhouette in the shape of the other man. But instead of Sergey’s pale skin, he was blue, no features of the man in front of him. The space around him was a tanned orange, and a mysterious black spot plagued the middle of Sergey’s abdomen.

Right, it wasn’t a normal camera. Wireface sighed, but he raised the camera up again, determined to make the most of his time with it. Sergey posed again without needing to be asked, his right hand going to rest on his left shoulder, head bowed just a bit. His lip looked like it was in an unintentional pout, his jowls rounding his face further.

“Kviuvxg…” Wireface uttered against the camera, snapping a few photos in quick succession from different angles. The photos printed out one after the other, falling into his lap. By the time Wireface brought them up to his face, Sergey’s head was turned away from the other.

(Perfect…)

They all had the same sort of aura as the first photo, just from different angles. Wireface piled them together next to his leg.

Wireface noticed that Sergey’s head was turned away, so he tapped his shoulder to get him to pose once more.

A few more flashes, a few more pictures getting printed, and Wireface went through the small collection he stacked up. He smiled at the pile, sorting through ones he liked and ones he would discard.

“Fslhv dvivm’g evib xzmwrw, yfg blf xzm’g ivzoob gvoo uiln gsv kslglh.” Wireface commented, handing the polaroids over to his model when asked.

(Those weren’t very candid, but you can’t really tell from the photos.)

Sergey rotated them in his hands, his eyes seemed glued to the black portion of his photos.

Wireface pushed the mediocre photos aside, the camera returned to its spot as Wireface instructed Sergey to pose once again.

Wireface didn’t know how long they had spent there, it felt like time stopped in the closet. Countless photos were taken, piling up to the side. Sergey had gotten used to the sudden bright light of the flash, eyes barely shutting when it turned on. He was getting better at posing naturally as well, his shoulders relaxing and face untensing. Wireface switched spots with Sergey, trying to see if the aura would be different with boxes in the background.

Wanting to switch some things up, Wireface sat the camera down next to him and kneeled down. He crawled the short distance to Sergey, the latter's eyebrows raising slightly in curiosity.

Wireface stopped just an inch from where his knees would touch Sergey’s legs.

“R dzmg gl tvg hlnv svzwhslgh, ru gszg’h urmv.” Wireface explained, his hands hovering above Sergey’s head, just in case he declined.

(I want to get some headshots, if that’s fine.)

Sergey had looked off to the side, his nose crinkling before he schooled his expression and nodded.

Wireface brushed his hair around somewhat, rustling his surprisingly rough hair. He smoothed down the strays in Sergey’s hair, fingering through the bob. Wireface moved some hair from the side of Sergey’s face to the side. Wireface gasped.

“Ls! Blf szev tzftvh!” Wireface exclaimed, holding onto the other man's ears. He stuck his finger through the gauged hole, smirking as he held back a giggle. Sergey looked up at him with narrowed eyes and a small smile tugging on the edges of his lips.

(Oh! You have gauges!)

“Bvzs, R-R tlg gsvn w-wfirmt nb hvxlmw b-bvzi lu hvxlmwzib h-hxsllo.” Sergey took over tucking blue hair behind one of his ears, showing off his gauged hole. Wireface moved to the other side, tucking blue locks behind the other man's ear. Wireface held onto both sides of Sergey’s face, switching his eyes from one to the other.

(Yeah, I-I got them d-during my second y-year of secondary s-school.)

“Ls, Ifhhrz szh hvxlmwzib hxsllo?” Wireface’s eyes focused on Sergey’s.

(Oh, Russia also has secondary school?)

“B-bvzs, g-gdl bvzih lu fkkvi hvxlmwzib h-hxsllo. Dszg wlvh T-Tvlitrz szev?” Sergey looked up, eyes darting across the smooth ceiling. Wireface subconsciously twirled some blue hair in between his fingers.

(Y-yeah, t-two years of upper secondary s-school. What does G-Georgia have?)

“Lfi hvzlmwzib hxslloh szev gsivv bvzih.” Wireface watched the unkempt hair flick between his index and middle finger.

(Our secondary schools have three years.)

“Sn.” Sergey hummed in response.

(Hm.)

“R zohl szev vziirmth, yfg gsvb’iv qfhg mlinzo kvrixrmth.” Wireface added, removing his hands from Sergey’s, tucking his own hair behind his ear. He placed his hand behind his ear, feeling his earring dangle in his palm. Sergey tipped forward, reaching up and holding the silver between two fingers. He twisted it a bit. It was oval-shaped with intricate details etched into the metal.

(I also have earrings, but they're just normal piercings.)

“Blf l-lmob szev lmv v-vzi k-krvixvw, dsb?” Wireface glanced at Sergey from his peripheral before he swiftly focused on the floor.

(You o-only have one e-ear p-pierced, why?)

“Zs, dvoo…” Wireface took a deep breath, feeling the other let go of his jewelry, “Z wvzi uirvmw lu nrmv szw trevm nv lmv, zmw sv pvkg gsv lgsvi. Z uirvmwhsrk yizxvovg, lu hligh.”

Wireface kept his head fixed on the floor, chest feeling heavy. His shoulders slacked a bit, eyes gaining a vacant look. His dear, dear friend. His stomach felt like it was trying to escape from his throat. The feeling left after a few seconds.

(Ah, well...a dear friend of mine had given me one, and he kept the other. A friendship bracelet, of sorts.)

“Ls.” Sergey’s tone felt regretful, his body hitting the shelves behind him.

(Oh.)

An awkward silence settled between them, and Wireface felt his skin itch. He broke the quiet.

“Hl! Svzwhslgh!” Wireface clapped his hands together, causing the other man to tense from the sudden noise. Wireface let out an airy laugh.

(So! Headshots!)

“B-bvzs,” Sergey moved up, making sure his hair stayed tucked, “Ziv g-gslhv orpv, kligizrgh?”

(Y-yeah, are t-those like, portraits?)

“Yzhrxzoob, bvh,” Wireface grabbed the camera, turning to Sergey. He quickly dropped it again, sighing, “Blfi zurich hgroo rm blfi uzxv…”

(Your hairs still in your face…)

Wireface’s hand went back to Sergey’s face, fixing his bangs. Sergey grunted in response and his mouth twisted in a subtle pout.

“Dsvm dzh gsv ozhg grnv blf dzhsvw blfi szri?” Sergey’s nose scrunched up again, Wireface snorting at his expression.

(When was the last time you washed your hair?)

“R’n m-mlg tlrmt gl z-zmhdvi gszg, h-hliib.” Wireface squinted at the other, slowly lowering his hands away, palms up as if he touched something he didn’t mean to.

(I’m n-not going to a-answer that, s-sorry.)

“Blf xzm pvvk glfxsrmt rg!” Sergey reached up with an almost offended look, hands grabbing Wireface’s wrists. Wireface giggling as he pulled away from Sergey, taking note of the icicle-like temperature of the other man's fingers.

(You can keep touching it!)

“Ml R wlm’g dzmmz!” Wireface laughed harder as Sergey continued to play tug-of-war.

(No I don’t wanna!)

“Dsb R-rg’h mlg wrigb!” Sergey protested, his head tilted in disbelief.

(Why? I-it’s not dirty!)

“R wlm’g pmld gszg! Dszg ru rg’h yvvm bvzih gszg blf szevm’g hsldvivw?!”

(I don’t know that! What if it’s been years that you haven’t showered?!)

“R-R’N MLG GSV KLGSVZW!” Sergey argued, his voice the loudest Wireface had heard.

(I-I’M NOT THE POTHEAD!)

“BLF’IV IRTSG, BLF’IV MLG! R YVG SV HSLDVIH NLIV LUGVM GSZM BLF!” Sergey gasped, his grasp on Wireface’s wrists loosening. Wireface noticed and slipped through the make-shift cuffs.

(YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU’RE NOT! I BET HE SHOWERS MORE OFTEN THAN YOU!)

Sergey moved so fast Wireface swore he only saw a blur of blue. His hands were clasped again, forcefully placed onto his head. The both of them were breathing slightly heavier, both of them putting actual effort into their small play-fight.

After his breathing slowed down a bit, Sergey noticed his hands were still on top of Wireface’s, and he dropped them quickly. His expression returned to its previous cold one, no hint of the slightly playful one he had on seconds earlier.

Wireface blinked.

Wireface returned to combing his fingers through Sergey’s stringy hair after his breathing returned to normal.

“H-hliib ru R’n mlg gsv y-yvhg nlwvo, m-ml lmv’h vevi i-ivzoob gzpvm nb k-kslgl yvuliv.” Wireface brushed a few strands out of Sergey’s face, his fingertips brushing the apples of his cheeks. Sergey blinked slowly, his eyes on Wireface’s knees.

(S-sorry if I’m not the b-best model, n-no ones ever r-really taken my p-photo before.)

“Ivzoob? Gszgh z hsznv, blf szev gsv nzpv lu z tllw lmv.” Wireface complimented him with eyes wide from minor surprise, his hands gliding down to rest on Sergey’s shoulders. Sergey’s head lifted up at the steady pressure on his shoulders, eyes meeting Wireface’s.

(Really? That's a shame, you have the make of a good one.)

“Fs...gszmp blf…” Sergey scoffed, their stares remaining interlocked, neither of the two moving to break it.

(Uh…thank you…)

Sergey coughed, looking down and covering his mouth. Wireface backed up a bit, reaching for the camera he had laid down.

He raised it up, catching Sergey’s attention. With a small nod of his head, Wireface began to photograph him.

~~~

The photos that Wireface had taken were passed between the two of them, a grin ghosting Sergey’s face. He asked to take a few photos, Wireface gathering them and handing them to him. He stuffed his own collection of photos into an empty box, hearing Sergey getting up and shuffling around.

Right as the two of them were leaving the closet, the red haired woman returned, slurring a ‘hello’ and ‘good night’.

Sergey looked at him with his mouth in a line, eyebrows raised. Wireface laughed it off and closed the door behind the tipsy woman.

When walking with Sergey to the living room, Wireface watched a few of the occupants returning to their respective rooms, the new guest had his arm slung across the short man’s shoulders, both of his eyes closed in a smile.

Sergey had paused at the living room door, half in the room, half in the hallway. The two of them had bid each other a farewell, but the taller of the two paused when the short one stopped.

Sergey turned to him.

“X-xzm dv nvvg g-glnliild? R dzmg gl…wl h-hlngsrmt.” His eyes didn’t reach Wireface’s, head turned down a bit.

(C-can we meet tomorrow? I want to…do s-something.)

“Bvzs, glgzoob! Wl blf dzmg gl yv rm gsv xolhvg zg gsv hznv grnv?” Wireface beamed down at him, stuffing his pockets into his hands. His puncture wounds hurt to stretch to accommodate his smile.

(Yeah, totally! Do you want to be in the closet at the same time?)

“Bvzs.” Sergey turned to face the interior, his hair nearly covering a sliver of a smile.

“O-K, bahbye!” Wireface waved goodbye to Sergey, turning on his heel and making his way to the closet.

He heard Sergey giggle behind him.

~~~

Wireface creaked the door open slowly, trying not to awake the woman. She was sprawled out on the ground, her leg kicked up and arms bent at weird angles.

Wireface stifled a laugh, biting his lip softly. He lowered himself gently next to the woman in the cramped space, laying on his back.

Fingers brushed against his bare shirt, and that’s when he noticed.

Sergey still had his jacket.

Chapter Text

Hi guys, this chapter is just me asking for y’all’s opinion.

I’m thinking of making this a longer fic, but I don’t know if you all would appreciate that.

So I’m asking if I should make this a longer fic with a bigger plot, or to make a separate fic.

Please comment and let me know

Chapter Text

It seems the overwhelming answer to the last chapter is a ‘yes, make this a longer fic’.

I do not know how long I want it to go on, so we’ll have to see where my brain takes me.

I’ll try to update tonight or tomorrow.

Stay tuned <3

Chapter Text

A gunshot is what ripped Wireface from sleep. The sound rang throughout the house's thin walls. The woman next to him stumbled over her limbs in a panic to sit up. She sat up and stared towards the door, her breathing quickened briskly.

Wireface’s own eyes were focused on the door, sitting up on his elbows. He heard a door in the hallway open and shut, feet shuffling towards the closet entrance.

Wireface’s frozen trance was broken when the door to the closet opened, swinging and hitting the wall. He scrambled up, tripping a bit before standing straight. The homeowner’s front was stained with blood, bits of flesh clinging to the wool of his sweater. Wireface felt like gagging. He heard the woman next to him gasp quietly.

The homeowner stalked over to Wiface, holding out his hand and demanding something. Wireface stuck his own out as a mimic.

He checked Wireface’s nails, cut short and clean.

He checked the woman next to him, her nails dirty and short from her biting.

The homeowner raised his gun to her with a paranoid look in his eyes. Both the woman’s and Wireface’s eyes widened like saucers.

Wireface stumbled back from the two, hitting the shelves and knocking a box over. Photographs sprawled out on the floor.

The woman waved frantically, insisting about something. She looked absolutley terrified, backing away from the gun, almost tripping on her own feet.

After some more panic-filled convincing, the homeowner hesitantly lowered his gun, slinging it across his back. He said something to the woman–to which she nodded eagrly–and he left.

Wireface breathed heavily, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Dszg gsv svoo dzh gszg?” Wireface questioned, hands shaking a bit where they were on the shelf. She didn’t respond, just falling to the floor on her knees. She keeled over onto her side, breathing heavily. Her arms were wrapped around herself, shaking almost voilently with silent sobs.

(What the hell was that?)

Wireface merely stared down at the fear-stricken woman. Not knowing what to do, and feeling awkward at the sound of her crying, Wireface left.

He slammed the door behind him, his back hitting the lean wood of the door. Wireface raised a hand to his chest, trying to still his breathing. He patted himself, eyes focusing on the wooden flooring. It was always terrifying when the homeowner's shotgun was raised, either at him or at someone else.

It always brought Wireface back to reality, that the homeowner was just as–if not more–paranoid as all the others were. Not some welcoming host, but a man who was scared out of his wits, willing to put a bullet in someone's brain if their teeth were too straight and white.

Wireface looked up when he heard a sniffle.

The new guest, the two girls, and the witch were huddled together around the kitchen door. The witch was huddling the girls in her arms, the new guest was standing awkwardly to the side. Blood was stained on the side of his shirt.

The new guest noticed Wireface staring.

“Ah, hello.” A very small smile appeared on his face, eyes focused solely on Wireface.

“Uh….hullo…” Wireface muttered, eyes darting around a bit. The man’s eyes squinted a bit as his tense smile grew.

The new guest turned away when the door to the living room opened, out coming the homeowner. His back straightened, head following the gunslinger as he trugged to his bedroom.

The house was eerily silent as the door creaked close.

The noise of the bathroom door opening caught Wireface’s attention. The stoner peeked to the close from the doorway, his mouth in a deep frown. His eyes were darting around the start of the hallway, eyes locking with Wireface.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes squinting.

“Dszg?” Wireface tried to take a step to understand the other–as if it would make a difference–but found he couldn’t move. His feet felt lik they were glued to the ground, his left hand clutching the blinds of the closet door.

(What?)

“Oh shit, sorry man, forgot you don’t speak Russian. Uh…” The stoner paused, before looking back into the bathroom. “Yo! How do you say ‘what happened’ in gibberish?”

Someone muttered back to him, clear yet tired.

“Then what does he speak?”

The voice said something else, but Wireface couldn’t hear it. The man turned to him and shrugged. The stoner turned around and shut the door behind him.

Looking back up, Wireface’s eyes caught anothers. Narrow pupils stared into his, unblinking.

“Gsrh dliow rh xlow zmw fmulitrermt.” Sergey screwed his eyes shut, shoulders tensing as he crossed his arms across his chest. Sergey turned on his heel, pushing past the tall man who had his head stuck out of the living room. The tall man made a comment, but Sergey didn’t respond.

Wireface watched as his orange jacket left his eyesight.

(This world is cold and unforgiving.)

Chapter Text

The adults were circled around the table, playing some game called ‘Durak’ that Wireface wasn’t paying too much attention to. They had brought the table from the office to hold their games, the wooden material now infested with cup stains and cigarette burns.

It was after dark, the few that hadn’t attended the socializing night were; the red-haired woman in the closet, the mourning woman in the bathroom, and of course–the homeowner.

Wireface sat next to Sergey, who had taken up his normal seat on the couch.

The tall man was sitting on the far right of the couch, nursing a beer between his hands. On the arm chair a little ways away from the couch, the tall woman had her legs crossed, petting Naperdish.

The witch was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, the new guest sitting next to her. The teenager was only a few feet away from them, trying and failing to hide the beer she held behind her knees.

The stoner was leaning against the right side of the couch, a marijuana cigarette dangling from his fingers. Its smoke wafted through the room, Wireface’s eyes squinted at the bitter scent. He could only imagine what the mourning woman had to go through.

Wireface watched as the other occupants of the living room played the game, shuffling their cards. Some looked anxious, others looked confident. Others looked tipsy enough to not care how the game ended.

Sergey was the latter option.

Said man was holding onto his fifth beer of the night, cards held in his other hand. He was hunched over slightly as his eyes glazed over the other players. His eyes moved along with the current players movements, almost in a trance rather than actual observation.

Wireface felt the same, even though he hadn’t had a lick of liquor.

His focus lay with the players of the game, looking around the circle. He didn’t know any of their names, save for Sergey. Wireface had been growing curiouser and curiouser over his time spent at the house, eager to know what to call the others rather than his stupid nicknames.

So when it looked like Sergey’s turn was over, his hand turning down and a beer can raised to his lips, Wireface got his attention.

The poke Sergey received startled him a bit, but he regained his composure quickly. Sergey set his beer onto his knee, moving closer to Wireface to separate their conversation from the others.

“B-bvh? Dszg rh rg?(Y-yes? What is it?)” Sergey inquired, keeping one eye on the game.

“Dszg’h svi mznv?(What’s her name?)” Wireface subtly pointed over to the tall woman, turning his head to look down at Sergey. Sergey in turn looked at the woman he was pointing towards. He went down to take a sip of his beer.

“Katya.” Sergey grimaced after swallowing the lukewarm beverage.

“Srh?(His?)” Wireface moved his hand over to the new guest, the guests hands stained with blue ink.

“N-Nikola.” Sergey replied as he watched the tall man next to him play his turn. He was almost all out of cards.

“Dszg zylfg svi’h?(What about her’s?)” Wireface’s finger moved to the witch, Sergey’s eyes moving with it.

“Antonia.”

Wireface continued until he learned all that Sergey knew;

The stoner’s name was Alexei, the tall man’s name was Yesenin, the mourning woman’s name was Lada, the woman who shared a closet with him was Natacha, and the cheerful man's name had been Luka.

The sound of cards abruptly hitting the table caught Wireface’s attention, looking over he saw Nikola groan into his hands.

Next to him Wireface felt Sergey’s shoulders shake with concealed laughter.

When Wireface turned to him with a confused look, Sergey explained, “Sv o-olhg.(He l-lost.)”

“I call for a rematch! That play was rigged!” Nikola demanded, his hands colliding with the table. It caused Antonia to jump, before she laid her cards out with a sour look on her face.

“Can you even rig Durak…?” Wireface heard Alexei mutter to no one in particular.

“Oh don’t be a sore loser, just admit defeat.” The teenager countered, taking a sip from her room-temp beer. She made a face as if she had just bitten into a lemon, quickly schooling her expression and lowering the drink.

Wireface bit the inside of his cheek to stop his laughter. The teenager noticed however, turning away, face red with embarrassment.

The bicker between the group continued as Nikola continued to demand a fourth replay, insisting that it was rigged every round. During the bantering, Sergey turned to him.

His breath smelt the disgusting stench of beer.

“Sv’h gsv w-wfizp(He’s the d-durak.)” Sergey turned to look over at Nikola, seeing his crazed expression caused his shoulders to shake with silent laughter again. Droplets of alcohol spilled onto his jeans.

When met with a confused look from Wireface, he elaborated;

“U-ullo, ‘wfizp’ nvzmh ullo(F-fool, ‘durak’ means fool.)” Sergey leaned back against the couch a bit clumsily, his scowl he gained after seemed to be aimed at himself.

“Ah.” Wireface took that explanation and watched with amusement as the team members called it a night. Much to Nikola’s protest.

Wireface helped with the clean up, picking up beer cans and cigarette butts off the floor and heading towards the door for the kitchen. Before he could exit, Yensin stopped him.

“If you’re thinking of throwing those away in the trash can in the kitchen, I’d rather use the bathrooms. The kitchen’s smell is so bad the people there have to sleep in the office.” The taller of the two explained.

“Dszg?(What?)” Wireface inquired, looking up at Yensin.

“Oh, uh…” Before Yensin could try to mime it out, a loud sigh cut into their short conversation.

“S-sv'h gvoormt blf mlg gl fhv gsv prgxsvm gizhs x-xzm. Gsv ldmvi yovzxsvw rg hl sziw gsv l-low dzoo kzkvih yzxp.(H-he's telling you not to use the kitchen trash c-can. The owner bleached it so hard the o-old wall papers back.)” Sergey appeared behind him, walking past him to open the living room door. He held his own beer can, crushed in the middle.

It took Wireface a second to get the joke.

“SZ! Ls tlhs, gszg rh ufmmb…(HA! Oh gosh, that is funny…)” Wireface chuckled as he moved through the doorframe, his small pile of trash in his arms almost falling.

Sergey followed him on his small trip to the bathroom, his head down turned.

Entering the bathroom and moving around Alexei who was already there, Wireface dumped the cigarettes and beer cans into the trash can. Wireface looked over to the bathtub, trying his best to ignore the decaying body in the tub.

Lada was sitting by the tub with her head on her knees, her arms slumped by her sides. Her shoulders and back rose and fell with her breathing, her navy hair cascading over her bent legs. Wireface felt it was safe to assume she was asleep.

Wireface felt a light tap on his shoulder, turning around he saw Sergey, looking up at him. He glanced towards the door, before peering back up at the taller of the two.

Wireface felt an ice-cold hand slowly slip around his wrist, slowly curling into a fist, holding onto Wireface. Sergey tugged him towards the exit of the bathroom, leading him out and towards the entrance.

“Dzrg, dszg ziv blf wlrmt?(Wait, what are you doing?)” Wireface attempted to pull away, but Sergey tightened his grip.

“L-lfghrwv. R m-mvvw uivhs zri, yvrmt rm z hnlpv-uroovw illn zoo wzb rh g-g-grirmt.(O-outside. I n-need fresh air, being in a smoke-filled room all day is t-t-tiring.)” Sergey ran his gaze over his shoulder to Wireface, his face its usual cool expression.

“Yfg, dszg ru gsviv'h erhrglih lfg gsviv zmw gsvb hvv fh? Li gsv slnvldmvi…(But, what if there's visitors out there and they see us? Or the homeowner…)" Wireface looked over to the entrance door warily, but Sergey yanked him forward as he turned the knob.

“Dv'oo yv urmv, r-rg'oo qfhg yv uli z orggov y-yrg.(We'll be fine, i-it'll just be for a little b-bit.)” Sergey walked with Wireface, guiding him out to the porch. The heat of air hit Wireface’s face, feeling much hotter than what it was meant to be. It seemed the sun even affected the night's temperature.

“Qvva, lpzb,(Jeez, okay,)” Wireface shut the door behind them, “Gsrh uvvoh z yrg orpv kvvi kivhhfiv.(This feels a bit like peer pressure.)”

Wireface chuckled lightly at his own joke, but Sergey hadn’t responded to it, his hand sliding down from Wireface’s wrist. His arms fell to his sides, and Wireface coughed from the silence of his joke.

“Hl, wl blf fhfzoob wirmp?(So, do you usually drink?)” Wireface queried, his feet shuffled awkwardly where he stood.

“Ml, mvevi ivzoob lmv gl w-wirmp.(No, never really one to d-drink,)” Sergey stepped down the stairs of the porch, arms outstretched to keep balance. He jumped down to the ground, a dirt cloud appeared where his feet made contact with the terrain, “Gsv gzhgv dzh zodzbh gll tizrmb.(The taste was always too grainy.)”

“Gsvm dsb’w blf szev 5 yvvih?(Then why’d you have 5 beers?)” Wireface asked, leaning against the support beam of the porch. He watched as Sergey turned halfway to look up at him.

“D-d-dsl dlfowm’g? D-drgs gsv hgzgv l-lu gsv dliow…?(W-w-who wouldn’t? W-with the state o-of the world…?)” Sergey answered, his gaze going back to the dirt in front of the house.

Wireface hummed in response, studying the wood of the porch. He supposed Sergey was right, they didn’t know when the sun was going to go back to normal, if at all. It could even get worse, for all they know. The house going up in flames, the people inside burning to a crisp.

The visitors were a whole different problem, looking almost exactly like a normal human. Wireface didn’t know their symptoms other than what the homeowner had tested him for, but it all felt so silly to him. Having straight teeth and dirty nails felt like normal human traits.

Or maybe Wireface was being naive.

Wireface briefly wondered if Sergey was a visitor, but quickly shook the thought out of his head.

Wireface rotated his body against the beam, feeling the ridges of the wood against his back. He brought his hand up to twirl a purple curl, stretching it out to observe it. The dye was beginning to fade, blending in with his natural hair color. Wireface sighed.

“Wl blf pmld ru gsvb hvoo szri wbv lm gszg wvorevib hvierxv gsv slnvldmvi liwvih uiln?(Do you know if they sell hair dye on that delivery service the homeowner orders from?)” Wireface looked down to Sergey, almost jumping when he turned to see Sergey already looking up at him.

Did his pupils look bigger…?

Sergey blinked and his pupils looked their normal size. Huh.

Wireface must just be tired. He rubbed his eyes as he looked up to the sky. The moon looked unnaturally bright.

“Nliv g-gszm orpvob ml. R gsrmp r-rg’h qfhg z wvorevib hvierxv.(More t-than likely no. I think i-it’s just a delivery service.)” Sergey replied, continuing to stare at Wireface.

Wireface could feel Sergey’s eyes on him, but he continued to look upwards.

“Dsl wl blf gsrmp sviv rh z erhrgli?(Who do you think here is a visitor?)” He suddenly blurted out, his thoughts from only moments ago resurfacing. Turning away to look at the door, his hands crossed against his chest, fingers twitching against his arms.

“R-R’w izgsvi m-m-mlg gsrmp zylfg gszg…(I-I’d rather n-n-not think about that…)” Wireface heard feet shuffle against the ground, dirt and pebbles moving. The gravel leading up to the porch sounded like they were being moved under dragging feet, and a hard ‘umph’ was heard.

Wireface looked over to see Sergey face first in the grass. The moon was uncovered by clouds, its light shining down on the spot Sergey had fallen. His body was sprawled out almost uncomfortably, and it almost looked like he wasn’t breathing.

It looked a bit like a movie scene, Wireface thought. A corpse lain in the moonlight, abandoned and left for anyone to see.

Wireface walked over. He sat down next to Sergey, cross legged as opposed to Sergey’s face-plant. Upon closer inspection, Wireface saw that Sergey was breathing, he was just breathing in grass and dirt.

Wireface let out a snort of amusement, laying his body weight on his arms as he leaned back. His focus went back to the moon, the light reflecting off of it felt unnatural–like a lamppost. The grey clouds were shrouded around it, putting the moon on display.

Wireface sighed and laid down. His arms spread out, almost hitting Sergey’s legs.

“R dlmwvi dszg Tvlitrz’h tlrmt gsilfts, ru rg’h gsv hznv zh sviv…(I wonder what Georgia’s going through, if it’s the same as here…)” Wireface’s eyes began to sting as he thought about his home country. He sighed again, shutting his eyes and digging his head in the dirt.

Wireface turned to his side, curling in on himself right as Sergey was sitting up. Wireface heard the rusting of Sergey’s many layers, shuffling against each other.

There was a long pause where neither of them spoke, but Sergey broke the silence, “D-dszg rh Tvlitrz orpv? R'ev m-mvevi tlmv…(W-what is Georgia like? I've n-never gone…)

“Ivzoob? Yfg blf hkvzp..(Really? But you speak..)” Wireface sat up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at the other.

“R h-hkvzp Vmtorhs gll, wl blf gsrmp R'ev t-tlmv gl Znvirxz?(I s-speak English too, do you think I've g-gone to America?)” Sergey moved to sit on his legs, his shoulders and back slouched. His hair was dropped over his face, the moonlight glistened in his eyes.

“Uzri klrmg,(Fair point,)” Wireface settled himself upright, copying Sergey, “Tvlitrz'h yvzfgrufo, R gsrmp blf'w orpv rg gsviv.(Georgia's beautiful, I think you'd like it there.)”

“Sn...R-R-R'ev ollpvw fk kslglh yvuliv, r-rg hvvnh orpv r-rg'w yv z mrxv kozxv gl h-hgzb.(Hm...I-I-I've looked up photos before, i-it seems like i-it'd be a nice place to s-stay.)” Sergey shivered hard mid-sentence, curling his arms around himself securely.

Wireface tilted his head at him, realizing that Sergey had still been shivering the entire time they were outside, even though it was stained warm from the sun. Wireface began to giggle in disbelief. It caught the others attention, looking over.

“Sn? D-dszg'h hl ufmmb?(Hm? W-what's so funny?)”

“Mlgsrmt, rg'h qfhg,(Nothing, it's just,)” Wireface waved his hand around in the air, “Dvoo blf'iv hgroo hsrevirmt vevm gslfts dv'iv lfghrwv. Rg'h orpv, dszg, 30 wvtivvh Xvohrfh lfg sviv,zmw blf'iv HGROO xlow?!(Well you're still shivering even though we're outside. It's like, what, 30 degrees Celsius out here,and you're STILL cold?!)”

“Rg w-wlvhm'g nzggvi sld slg rg rh, R-R'oo h-hgroo yv xlow…(It d-doesn't matter how hot it is, I-I'll s-still be cold…)” Sergey turned back to infront of him, holding onto his arms firmly, rubbing up and down, “Rg'h orpv R dzh w-wvhgrmvw gl yv xlow, R x-xzm'g uvvo gsv svzg lu gsv h-hfm, m-ml nzggvi dszg R w-wl.(It's like I was d-destined to be cold, I c-can't feel the heat of the s-sun, n-no matter what I d-do.)”

Oh no, Wireface hoped Sergey wasn’t one of those sad drunks. That’s one of the reasons Wireface didn’t drink, and if he could, avoided drunk people. It felt too weird to deal with a drunk upset person, their behaviors abnormal and unpredictable.

“Hl, Blf hzrw blf dzmgvw gl hsld nv hlnvgsrmt?(So, You said you wanted to show me something?)” Wireface changed the subject, remembering Sergey’s request from yesterday. He now realized they didn’t go back to the closet. It was probably for the best, Natacha hadn’t moved from the floor since that morning.

“Ls, i-irtsg, R zonlhg ulitlg.(Oh, r-right, I almost forgot.)” Sergey pulled something from his pocket; a square piece of paper-like material that looked like it had seen better days. He unfolded it with extreme care, smoothing it out before turning it to face Wireface.

Wireface leaned forward to look at it clearly.

It was a photo of a few people, Sergey included. It was a group photo with Sergey to the far right. His skin appeared to be healthier, his hair shorter and black, showing off his gauge, the color matching his current hair color. He was smiling wide, eyes squished from the pressure. He was wearing a fur coat with a dark blue turtleneck accompanied by ripped jeans. Sergey’s arms were wrapped around a person's shoulders, theirs in turn around his. After observing the contents of the photo, he noticed writing at the bottom.

“Dszg wlvh rg hzb?(What does it say?)”

“‘H-hmldvw rm.’(‘S-snowed in.’)”

There was a long pause, the both of them sitting while Sergey traced the photo. Wireface looked up to the sky, altostratus clouds crowding the starry night. An inconsistent wind was blowing, warm and pleasant. A few of Wireface’s curls blew in his face, so he tucked them behind his ears.

Strands of grass brushed against his hands, dirt picking up in the distance. Wireface began absentmindedly plucking the sparse grass.

Sergey broke the peaceful silence.

“Rg’h u-u-uifhgizgrmt, gl szev gsv pmldovwtv gszg R pmvd g-gsvn, yfg mlg y-yvrmt zyov gl ivnvnyvi gsvn(It’s f-f-frustrating, to have the knowledge that I knew t-them, but not b-being able to remember them.)” Sergey’s gaze was tender, his fingers brushing over the subjects of the photo. His lip tremored in tandem with his shoulders shivering.

His shaky hand glided over the old polaroid, fingers lingering on one particular person.

“Wl blf szev znmvhrz?(Do you have amnesia?)” Wireface suggested, observing the creases on the picture.

“M-ml, R wlm'g gsrmp hl. R xzm ivnvnyvi nb kzivmgh, g-g-gsvri uzxvh ziv xibhgzo x-xovzi.(N-no, I don't think so. I can remember my parents, t-t-their faces are crystal c-clear.)” Sergey’s eyes narrowed, fingers crinkling the edges of the photo, “R qfhg...wlm'g ivnvnyvi gsvn…(I just… don’t remember them…)”

Sergey's face soured, blinking slowly. A pout appeared on his lips.

Wireface looked away, running his hand through his hair. He scratched at his scalp, changing the subject, “Blf ollp,(You look,)” “Nfxs wruuvivmg gszm blf wl mld.(Much different than you do now.)”

“Bvzs, R prmwz wivhhvw hfkvi zogvimzgrev z dsrov ztl..(Yeah, I kinda dressed super alternative a while ago.)” Sergey huffed out a laugh, twirling a lock of his dark hair between his fingers. He curled his legs up to his chest, his other arm resting atop of his knees.

“Dszg xszmtvw?(What changed?)”

“R xslhv x-xlnulig levi hgbov. Rg u-uvog orpv z szhhov gl kfg lm hl nzmb zxxvhhlirvh dsvm R'n hsrevirmt hl sziw R mvziob wilk v-vevibgsrmt.(I chose c-comfort over style. It f-felt like a hassle to put on so many accessories when I'm shivering so hard I nearly drop e-everything.)” Sergey ran his hand over his coat, going to play with the strings of Wireface’s sweater that he was still wearing.

“R hvv. Z olg vzhrvi gl hork lm 3 wruuvivmg ozbvih gszm 4?(I see. A lot easier to slip on 3 different layers than 4?)” Wireface teased, resting his weight on one arm, a smirk splaying across his lips.

“Ls hs-hsfg fk, blf pmld dszg R nvzm.(Oh sh-shut up, you know what I mean.)” Sergey scoffed and folded the photo back into his pocket.

They fell back into quiet. It was Sergey’s turn to look upward, his eyes grazing over the covered sky. His hands fell to the ground, fingers digging into the dry dirt. One of Sergey’s legs stretched out, the other leg swaying back and forth.

Wireface watched him, his short hair flowing gently. Wireface watched it move, unwashed strings blowing in the wind. Sergey’s mouth was slightly open, visible white teeth chattering. His quivering shook his coat, its fabric making a swishing sound as it shifted.

Sergey turned around, his body twisting half way as he looked over to the house.

“Dv hslfow kilyzyob svzw yzxp rmhrwv yvuliv gsv s-slnvldmvi mlgrxvh dv'iv n-nrhhrmt.(We should probably head back inside before the h-homeowner notices we're m-missing.)” Sergey commented, his eyes searching the windows of the house lazily.

“Li b'pmld, hlnv erhrglih li gslhv UVNZ zhhslovh urmw fh?(Or y'know, some visitors or those FEMA assholes find us?)” Wireface added.

“Ls bvzs, gszg gll.(Oh yeah, that too.)” Sergey nonchalantly agreed, his eyes meeting Wireface’s.

Wireface rolled his as he stood. Sergey went to follow, but he lost his balance halfway. Wireface caught him, holding him up by his armpits.

Helping the unbalanced Sergey up, catching him before he could fall, Wireface looked out into the distance. There was a figure walking towards them, startling close. Wireface must have been so wrapped up in the silence with Sergey he didn’t notice.

Wireface went to tap on Sergey’s shoulder to draw his attention to the approaching man, but he noticed the man's attire.

He had a green satchel around his middle with blue gloves, and a striking yellow suit that stood out in the moonlight. A very specific yellow suit.

Wireface felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

The man got notice of the two, waving over to them, his blue gloves a blur. He picked up his pace, and Wireface went into fight or flight.

His body chose flight.

Wireface jerked Sergey by his shoulders, thrusting the others towards the house. Sergey let out a small yelp, caught off guard by the sudden movement.

Wireface’s only focus was on getting the two of them inside, desperate to flee from the FEMA employee. He heard the employee’s feet hit the ground behind the two of them.

“Hey, wait!” The man yelled, his boots trying to reach them quickly.

Wireface continued to rush to the house, driving Sergey forward by force. Sergey was quietly protesting, trying to look back at what they were running away from. Wireface was too busy pushing him forward to allow him the time to have a peek.

“Is it the suit? I swear I’m not with FEMA!” The man called out. All Wireface understood was ‘FEMA’.

“WLM'G ORHGVM GL SRN QFHG TVG RMHRWV!!(DON'T LISTEN TO HIM JUST GET INSIDE!!)” Wireface continued to push Sergey in, feet tripping over the uneven wood of the porch. He reached his hand out in front of Sergey, swinging the door open and shoving the smaller of the two inside.

Slamming the door shut, Wireface caught a glimpse of the FEMA agent's face.

His back hit the door, his chest heaving. Sergey turned to face him, a bit of a glare present on his face. It shot a pane of guilt into Wireface’s already tight chest.

“Q-Qvhfh Xsirhg, dszg dzh gszg z–(J-Jesus Christ, what was that a–)"

The homeowner’s voice interrupted Sergey’s questioning.

Thank God.

The homeowner’s shoes stomped against the floor as he approached the pair. He began to question them, mostly focusing on Sergey.

Wireface slipped past the both of them as Sergey began to speak. The house still reeked of bleach.

Wireface stumbled to the closet, opening and slamming the door shut before he crumpled to the floor and held his hands to his neck. He didn’t even notice the passed out Natacha.

God he hoped that FEMA agent didn’t want to take shelter in the homeowner’s house. Being stuck in the same space as someone who sewed his mouth shut, whether he did it or not, was something Wireface begged didn’t happen.

He felt his breathing quicken. His nails began to dig into his neck. He felt his vision tunnel. It began to feel harder and harder to keep himself up and steady, so he caved in and fell into the shelves.

The sudden momentum of his crash shifted the boxes, one slipping off the edge it was laid on. It made its descent to the floor, but instead of hitting hard wood, it hit Wireface’s skull.

The pain was almost instant, the box falling onto the floor next to his head. His eyes slide shut, his hands going up lazily to his head, feeling a pain etching at the back of it.

And just like that, Wireface slipped into unconsciousness.