"You okay kiddo?" he asks, standing over me. I don't have to look up to know he's straightening his cap.

"You know that wasn't real…that whole…why would he spend the night with you? C'mon, I'll treat you to a bear claw."

"I don't give a shit about a f—cking bear claw!-" I roar. "That's not what I want!"

"You want Tyrell Wellick," he says, with a sigh. I don't need him looking at me with pity. "Well, guess what? You can't have him. And you know why you can't? Covering your ears won't do you any good."

He grabs me by the collar of my hoodie, jerking me upright so that I'm looking into his face.

I can't understand any words coming out of his mouth. It all sounds muted for a second.

"-He can't be your prince charming. Wake up! Now, get off your ass."

"What did you do with him?!" I scream into his face. "Just tell me!"

"Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell ya to keep your goddamn voice down? You don't want your neighbors calling the cops on you again for losing it. There's other dicks in the sea, if that really floats your boat. Or is his the on-"

"Shut the hell up!" I yell, shoving him off me.

He's wrong this time.

I knew that Tyrell was obsessed with me. And the last time I saw him here, it was real. I wasn't hallucinating. Tyrell said he loved me-that's what his obsession turned into.

And I accepted it.

"In what reality would that psycho prick be in love with you? He's only in love with himself! And you, you need to be honest with yourself about that and admit it."

"Shut up!"

"You really thought he thinks of you, as what, a god? And he's you're his 'prophet'? What is that? I told you that and suddenly this imaginary version of Tyrell thinks the same way? Ya'know, that really makes me wonder."

"It's done now. I'm here to tell you, it wasn't real. You were imagining things. Do you know how strange it is to see someone holding and making out with thin air?"

I cover my ears with my hands again.

"That won't do you any good. You know that right?"

I squeeze my eyes shut as the tune of Fere' Jacques scratches at the back of head. I know I haven't been talking to you much here, but I need your help now. I need-

I hear the sound of someone banging at my door.

It's loud enough that I actually hear it, eventually removing my hands from my ears and stare at the door. I'm not sure what I feel in this moment.

Panic? Gratefulness to you?

Mr. Robot turns slowly towards it, then back at me as I get up from where I sat.

"Don't answer that. Elliot. Don't yo-"

"Elliot," Tyrell says, as he smiles at me. He's holding something behind him as he walks towards me.

"You're not real," I say, my voice is trembling and I shake my head slowly. I back away from the door, which Tyrell kicks shut.

Tyrell stares at me, his smile disappearing as his eyes pierce me.

"Is there something troubling you Elliot?"

I'm dreaming.

I was dreaming.

I imagined all of it.

I have to be stuck in an endless loop of fallacy and reality when I thought the worse was already over with.

"I went to your place-to see if you were there-" I stumble out. "I looked everywhere for you!"

"Yes, I saw you," Tyrell says. His tone is gentle. He looks sad for a second.

"I was worried about you-that you-"

He saw me?

He has to be dead. How could he be gone so long-

Tyrell stares at me, not moving from his spot at the door.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" I ask, feeling alone and lost again. Why is he so far away?

I turn to you, wondering if you've known this whole time where Tyrell was.

He moves his hands from behind his back to show me-

A pumpkin?

"Why do you have that?" I ask him. My eyes wander up and down to the large pumpkin. I hear Mr. Robot sigh from the window in aggravation. I don't care what he thinks right now. The only thing that matters is-

"This, it's an American tradition, right?" Tyrell answers, sitting down on my couch. Before he does, his lips brush over my cheek and I find myself sitting next to him.

I shake my head slowly. "Yeah, kinda."

"Yes? Excellent. Now," Tyrell starts, as he places the pumpkin down on the coffee table. "Sweden's only celebrated an American version Halloween for the last twenty years or so, but I think you would know better about carving pumpkins than I do. Will you help me carve this?" He pulls out a pocket knife.

What the hell is going on here?

"We can set it on your window sill, with a candle after we're done. I'll use the insides to make a pie for us. Maybe even some hot coffee to go along with it?"

After everything that's happened, how could he look so-?

He looks so innocent. I've never seen him like this before.

Except that night when he was vulnerable…but still held back.

But now…

What can I even say to that? How does someone react to seeing light after sitting in darkness for so long?

"Sure."

END