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Short, Short Stories.
Drabble One:
In Which Hanna Acts a Gentlemen.
He had gotten home from work later than usual, his vermillion eyes beaming like a flashlight in the damp and broken staircase of his apartment. The steps creaked as with every step he climbed closer to room 306., his long figure casting shadows across the cracked walls.
When he had gotten to the doors he shuffled for his keys, and just like any other night he was expecting to see his companion fast asleep in a mess on the floor. Zombie checked down at the wristwatch on his decaying arm long enough to note that it was a half past one in the morning. Surely Hanna was already dreaming, lying vulnerable on his makeshift mattress.
He opened the door silently not wanting to wake to younger man – although he knew this was an almost impossible task. He snuck his body into the half opened door frame and draped his coat over an abused armrest on a second-hand couch. And for the thousandth time that month he glanced over his shoulder to where Hanna slept, like a routine something he always did to the point of OCD. He was slightly disgruntled when he focused his eyes on an empty bed.
Hanna was always in bed when he got home, every time since he began working at nights Hanna was there. Zombie's expression hardened as he fathomed a reasonable explanation for why the redhead would be out and about at such an early time. He was about to check the tiny excuse for the bathroom, when suddenly out from the dark someone called his name.
"Galahad come over here" The voice whispered from the blackness.
Galahad shuffled in the darkness, not because he couldn't see perfectly fine but because the scene itself threw him off.
"Hey! Stop lurking around like a zombie over there!" Hanna exclaimed, throwing on the light switch. For a brief second Galahad was blinded by a bright fluorescent light before the room came to life before him.
He was a little more than surprised to what greeted him, especially the grinning Hanna at the kitchen table.
"Welcome home" The redhead mumbled happily from his respected spot at the table. Laid in front of him were two plates of omelettes, a tall glass of milk and an even taller glass of red wine where Galahad was meant to sit.
Galahad slowly made his way to the wobbly wooden chair and lowered himself at the rickety table. "Hanna what is this?" He inquired monotone.
Hanna beamed from ear to ear, tugging and twisting the fabric at the end of his bright yellow shirt. "Well your always looking after me, cooking and cleaning and a shit ton of other stuff too!" He began locking eye contact with the dead man. "And I thought for once just once wouldn't it be cool – if you could come back to a place you called home with someone waiting for you with food?" He boasted his eyes shining behind his thick glasses.
Galahad peered down at the smaller boy, unsure of the feeling washing over him. All this effort Hanna had put into such a simple act of kindness and for him: A dead man with no past. He glanced down at the food finding fresh veggies sliced into the yellow eggs, he noticed that Hanna had even burnt his first omelette and still insisted on giving him the better cooked one even thou he couldn't eat it.
He mustered a smile, the most earnest one his dead lips would allow. "Hanna" he breathed gently in the dusty air. "Thank you, everything's lovely." He wished he was better with words, so he could truly show his gratitude to Hanna fully express what he was feeling. But it didn't seem to matter much, because with an ecstatic "gnee" from Hanna there meal began.
Galahad sipped his drink from a tall glass unsure what he was drinking. He appreciated Hanna remembering that he liked alcohol, for although he couldn't taste it and it wouldn't affect his body it always left a warm trail in his chest lighting his heart on fire. And watching Hanna devour his eggs in the moonlight he felt the warm tingly feeling spreading in his breast was very appropriate and he savoured the moment.
There was no silence, Hanna chattered about anything and everything that came to mind comically, taking breaks only long enough to shovel food into his mouth and breathe.
When Hanna had finished his meal, the Zombie had switched their plates wordlessly and the redhead dug into that without a second thought. To be frank Galahad enjoyed the smaller boys company and he was perfectly content just watching him eat and he listened intently to every word Hanna had to utter. Once when he raised his glass for a sip he found it was dry of liquid, and without a beat Hanna was filling his glass up to the brim with a huge smile plastered to his cute face.
"Never in my afterlife did I ever to expect anything like this." He confessed lovingly, causing Hanna to laugh and smile and blush all at the same time together in happiness.
Eventually the meal ended in a silent agreement. Hanna was slumped over his empty plate his head resting on his crossed arms. The look on his face was tired but blissful, and he strained to keep him head up tilted to Galahad as he finished his drink. It was then that Zombie realized the younger was staying awake for him, keeping himself from sleep to watch him finish.
"Let's get you to bed sleepyhead." Galahad muttered clearing the table, and rearing up behind the redheads chair to help him up.
Hanna leapt to his feet unsteadily, sleep deprivation slowing him down. "Nah, I could stay up all night if you wanted me to! We could watch some old horror movies or play a romping game of battle Tetris!" He said, but a tired yawn caught him mid-statement.
"I think I'd like to go to sleep now" Galahad said, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "With you" He whispered after a second thought, and directed Hanna to the bed by the hand.
"Mmmm. Okay" Hanna sighed sleepily crumpling into the mattress on the floor, with Galahad right behind him. The bed was way too small for one and a half grown men, but that really wasn't a problem. Hanna spooned up against his Zombie, and Galahad was more than happy to wrap his arms protectively around the redhead's waist.
They lay there perfectly content, one of those blissful moments where you think to yourself: if I die right now – that would be just okay. Zombie pretended briefly that the warmth in his chest was more than a drink of alcohol and with Hanna snuggled in so close to him it wasn't too hard.
"Thanks" Hanna suddenly sputtered against his chest.
Zombie cocked a curious eyebrow. Why Hanna would be thanking him, and now of all times, he had no idea. It seemed almost ironic since Hanna was the one who had done something for him; he was the one who should be getting the thanks. Not the other way around.
"Thank you." Hanna said again, exhaling.
"But Hanna, I haven't done anything." Replied the confused Zombie.
"Oh but you will," Hanna answered sleepily.
"You always do."
TOBECONTINUED.
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