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The homeowner let out an exhausted sigh as he collapsed into his bed, still wearing the same sweater and jeans he’d had on for days now.
A week. This cataclysm, the end of the damn world, it had been going on for a week now. The homeowner tried not to think about that. He couldn’t lose himself in the slowly growing paranoia creeping up on his brain, or the despair threatening to swallow him whole. He had to accept that this was reality now, this was life. Going outside was a fucking death wish, and sometimes the homeowner had to blast the heads off of creatures masking as humans.
Visitors, they were called.
The name was a fucking joke. It made them sound like neighbors popping in for a quick hello. Meanwhile, one of these visitors was stalking around the homeowner’s house, watching, waiting for him to slip up so he could snap the homeowner’s spine in half with absolutely zero effort.
The homeowner groaned and pulled the sheets up over himself. They smelled like dust.
He hated this bedroom, this whole house, all the memories they came with it, but it was all he had. He was so, so lonely. But he hated people, hated letting anybody into his life.
Moonlight was peeking through the tiny gap in the curtains, bathing the room in a shade of blue-green as the homeowner closed his eyes. He had just finished guarding the door for any passersby and had a few hours of the night left to rest before he had to perform routine checks on all the guests he had let in to save his own ass.
He had turned a few people — possibly people, possibly not — away. But a kind old surgeon had showed up needing some shelter, and his story seemed human enough, so the homeowner had allowed him entry. He’d have to check him in the morning.
So many people in the house. It was an intrusion on the homeowner’s life, on his past that he tried to bury deep within himself. But what else could he fucking do?
He sighed again, then let his breathing even out, allowing his body to be dragged into another restless sleep.
Until a knock sounded at his bedroom door.
His eyes snapped open, and immediately he grew irritated. It was an unspoken rule that nobody bothered the homeowner while he slept.
He let out a grunt and simply closed his eyes again. Whoever this bastard was could wait.
But again, they knocked.
“I’ve got half a mind to stick my gun down your throat and shoot,” he warned, rolling over to face the door, sitting up. Was it too much to ask for even a minute of sleep?
A voice finally piped up on the other side of the door instead of that dreaded knocking.
“Gsviv'h z nzm rm nb hklg rm gsv xolhvg!! Z hfitvlm! Tvg srn lfg!”
Right. The foreigner.
He had showed up three nights ago with his mouth sewn shut, most likely from some random attackers based on the man’s frantic hand gestures. He had been mumbling through the stitches, crying, and terrified. It would have been cruel to turn him away. So, since then, he had been taking residence in the closet.
The homeowner liked to check in on him often to make sure he wasn’t in too much pain. The night he had moved in, he had ripped all of his stitches out, leaving gruesome holes poked into his lips. He didn’t seem to want anyone touching his mouth, so it went unclean, and still bled. He worried the homeowner.
He also spoke an entirely different language. So, he and the homeowner had come up with their own method of communication. One would repeat the other’s words back while the other acted out the meaning until the word was understood.
Honestly, it worked really well, and the homeowner found himself actually bonding with the foreigner. They shared something nobody else in the house did; they both just wanted to be understood.
The homeowner felt alone in the world he was raised so cruelly in, and the foreigner was now stuck in a country where nobody spoke his language, and didn’t know how to get home. They were both lonely. But that shared loneliness seemed to draw them both to each other, they understood each other, even if they didn’t know much about the other.
And right now, that bond was the only thing keeping the homeowner from strangling the guy for interrupting his already broken sleep.
“Give me a second, fuck,” the homeowner sighed. He crawled out of bed with a groan, feeling his joints crack with weariness. Stepping over to the door, he swung it open to find the foreigner standing there with his already owlish eyes stretched wide.
He still wore the same clothes he had showed up with, a bloodied, purple t-shirt and an orange jacket around his neck. His hair was all disheveled, and his mouth bled from his nasty wounds and stabbed gums.
“What’s going on?” the homeowner asked, irritated yet slightly concerned. He gazed past the foreigner into the hallway, looking out for any signs of danger.
The foreigner’s eyes were wild with fear, like a scared animal about to flee. He was gripping his neck and shaking, eyebrows furrowed together in anger and panic as he stared at the homeowner.
“Gsviv'h z hfitvlm rm gsv xolhvg! Sv girvw gl glfxs nb nlfgs! Tvg srn lfg!” the foreigner rambled out. “R wlm'g dzmg gl hsziv nb hklg, ovg zolmv drgs srn! Dszg ru sv wlvh hlnvgsrmt gl nb nlfgs?”
“Woah, hey,” the homeowner frowned, putting a hand up to stop the man’s terrified rambling. “I have no clue what you’re saying.”
“Blf wlm'g fmwvihgzmw. Kovzhv, qfhg hvmw gsv hfitvlm zdzb,” the foreigner pleaded. He pointed behind himself to the closet.
“The closet? What’s in there?”
Someone didn’t die in there, did they?
The foreigner huffed in irritation.
“Gsv hfitvlm!”
“Hfitvlm?” the homeowner repeated.
The foreigner nodded, then started acting something out. He pretended to cut his own stomach open, dig around in his guts, and sew it closed.
The fuck was happening in that closet?
The homeowner stared bewildered at the foreigner for a few moments before it finally clicked. The foreigner had acted out a surgery.
“The surgeon!” the homeowner exclaimed.
“Shur- shurgeon, yes!” the foreigner nodded. “Sv'h rm nb hkzxv, zmw R dzmg srn lfg.”
“What about him?”
The homeowner could go check for himself what was going on, but if the surgeon was violent or anything, the homeowner wanted to have a warning.
The foreigner stood silent for a moment, thinking. He still looked frightened, but now he just seemed more troubled.
He sighed, then pointed a shaking hand to his mouth.
“MOUF.”
“Mouth, yeah.” The homeowner touched his own lips in response.
“SHURGEON…” the foreigner repeated his earlier motion of sewing someone’s stomach up, then pointed to his own mouth again. When he was done, he hugged his arms around himself and stared at the floor. “Sv ivnrmwh nv lu gsv zggzxp. Lu nb nlfgs yvrmt hvdm hsfg.” He spoke quietly, almost mumbling. He looked like he was reliving something terrible.
The surgeon must be reminding the foreigner of his attack. He had been brutalized with sutures, of course he hated the sight of the surgeon. He was reliving that night all over again.
The foreigner didn’t acknowledge his wounded mouth much, and wouldn’t let anyone touch it or stare. He wanted to just forget about it and keep trying to find home. He stayed his innocent, talkative and hopeful self. But as much as he tried to forget what had happened, it still lingered. The scars still existed, inside and out.
He was still himself, but now haunted by his wounds. And something like the surgeon showing up was too much for him.
The homeowner knew what that was like, to try and bury everything. But every day, that stupid house reminded him of his father, the man he used to pray would drop dead.
The homeowner felt a pull towards the other man. They related to each other, understood each other.
“Listen, I’ll… I’ll find another room for you to sleep in,” the homeowner said.
The foreigner just cocked his head, still looking hurt and lost in his own head.
As the homeowner looked around at the other doors in the hallway, he realized that every other option was a poor one. There were people in every other room — minus the bathroom, but he wouldn’t stick the foreigner in there — and none of them spoke the foreigner’s language. It would be cruel to throw the foreigner in with a bunch of strangers he couldn’t understand.
And the homeowner didn’t want to force the surgeon into a different room. The man just wanted a place to rest.
There was only one option left.
“You can sleep in my room,” the homeowner sighed, pointing behind himself into the bedroom. “Room. My room.”
He really hated the idea of another person in his bed, but he hated the idea of leaving the foreigner to fend for himself more.
Since when had the homeowner grown so soft?
“Y- your RUHM?” the foreigner asked, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah. My room.”
The foreigner stood there for a moment before nodding his head.
“R'w orpv gszg. Gszmp blf.”
The homeowner stepped out of the way to let the foreigner into the bedroom. Having another person in the homeowner’s room felt like an intrusion on his space and privacy, but then again, so was having all these strangers in his house.
The foreigner walked in, taking the meager sights in.
The TV, the dusty lamp on the wall, the old bedside table, and the bed itself.
The homeowner wasn’t a big fan of decorating. Why decorate a house he hated so much?
The foreigner took the jacket off from around his neck and gently laid it on the bedside table. Then, he just stood there awkwardly.
“Get comfortable,” the homeowner said, pointing to the bed. He didn’t blame the foreigner’s hesitation; this was awkward for the both of them.
Nodding, the foreigner crawled onto the bed on the left side, on top of the covers. He curled up on his side, head on the pillow. He still looked stiff and unsure of everything.
The homeowner joined the man in the bed, but pulled the covers up over himself.
The other man’s presence was strange, unfamiliar. It had been a long time since the homeowner had shared a bed with someone. He wasn’t a huge fan of how vulnerable it made him feel, emotionally and physically. The foreigner seemed least likely of anybody in this house to maul the homeowner to death in his sleep, though.
Lying on his back, the homeowner glanced over at the other man in the dark, who was turned facing away. He seemed to be relaxing a little; he must be enjoying having a bed to sleep in instead of the closet floor.
Well, this was it, this was how the homeowner was sleeping tonight. Could the world get any weirder?
“GUHD-NIGHT!” the foreigner suddenly exclaimed.
The homeowner held back a laugh. The other man sounded so cheerful, so innocent. His little ‘goodnight’, it was… cute.
The homeowner didn’t like the way his own face heated up. Did the foreigner’s presence suddenly feel… nice?
The homeowner pushed the feeling down. There wasn’t time for this. He needed rest.
He waited until the foreigner’s breathing evened out to close his own eyes. And to his surprise, it didn’t take long for sleep to come.
***
That night had gone by just fine. The homeowner had woken up to find the foreigner sprawled out like he owned the whole bed, snoring away and drooling a mix of blood and saliva. It stained the sheets, but the homeowner found himself not caring.
The homeowner had gotten out of bed before the other man woke up to avoid any awkwardness.
And now, the next night, the homeowner was in his bedroom again, settling down for another night’s rest when a knock sounded at the door.
The homeowner had been expecting it, but he still sighed.
Lugging himself out of bed, he opened the door to see the foreigner once again.
The man looked a little shaken, probably still scared of the surgeon. But at least his mouth was clean and disinfected now.
The surgeon had told the homeowner the wounds needed cleaning to prevent infection and even more pain, so the homeowner had finally convinced the foreigner to let him clean it. The homeowner had cleaned his mouth gently with a rag and alcohol. It had clearly burned, and the foreigner had cursed and cried the whole time, but he at least seemed appreciative of the homeowner’s care.
His mouth was no longer bloody, but he still had little scars dotting his lips.
Now, standing there in the bedroom doorway, he gave a little wave.
“Gsv hfitvlm rh hgroo rm gsv xolhvg. Xzm R hovvk sviv ztzrm?” He pointed to the homeowner’s bed.
Of course, with the surgeon still here — he showed no signs of being a visitor, the homeowner had no plans to kick him out — the foreigner still wouldn’t want to share a room with him.
The homeowner had hoped that maybe the foreigner would have braved up a little and stayed in the storage room, but of course that wasn’t the case. The homeowner would once again have his privacy invaded.
“Yeah, come in,” the homeowner grunted. This was easier than denying the man entry.
The foreigner smiled and walked on in, looking a lot less awkward this time. God, he was making himself at home, wasn’t he?
Like last night, the foreigner set his jacket down and crawled on top of the covers. This time, he stayed facing the homeowner as the homeowner got comfortable in bed.
“Gszmp blf, ivzoob. R xzm'g hgzmw gsv hrtsg lu gsv hfitvlm,” the foreigner said once the homeowner was settled in. The foreigner had his elbow propped up, head in his hand.
Lying on his back again, the homeowner glanced over at the foreigner. Was he really wanting a conversation? Now? The guy really was talkative, geez. But the homeowner found himself listening, trying to translate the other man’s words.
“R dlmwvi ru zoo lu gsrh rh szkkvmrmt rm nb xlfmgib. R slkv mlg.” As the foreigner spoke, he fidgeted with the bedsheet, lounging on the bed like he owned the place. He was always relaxed around the homeowner, the homeowner noticed. “Dsvm R tvg slnv R droo hvv nb nlgsvi. R nrhh svi. Zmw nb... uirvmw. R szev mlg hvvm srn uli hlnv grnv. Lmv wzb R'oo urmw srn ztzrm, dsvm gsrh rh zoo levi.”
The homeowner nodded along. He understood something about the foreigner’s home, his mother.
“Where is your home?” the homeowner asked.
“Huh?”
“Home.” The homeowner made a roof shape over his head. “Your home.”
“Ah! Slnv! HOME. R'n uiln Tvlitrz. R nrhh rg.”
The homeowner would have to remember what ‘Tvlitrz’ was and figure it out later.
The foreigner continued on about his home, a glimmer of fondness in his eyes as he spoke. Despite his wounded mouth, he was still able to go on and on about his home or music or whatever else he liked.
He looked nice right now, all relaxed and a little sleepy, one leg crossed over the other, his shirt slightly riding up to reveal a little bit of his hip. The homeowner stared at it. Couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Wanted it.
Was he really that touch-starved? This cataclysm had him acting crazy. He blushed a little and tore his eyes away. Thankfully, the foreigner hadn’t noticed.
“R szw nzmb ivxliwh yzxp slnv. Zs, R hkvmg slfih qfhg orhgvmrmt gl gsvn zoo. R drhs R xlfow hsziv gsvn drgs blf,” the foreigner went on.
The homeowner liked the other man’s hair. It fell down into distinct curls, and he had dyed it purple. The man was flamboyant, the homeowner had to give him that. Especially with that single earring of his.
Suddenly, the foreigner fixed the homeowner with a questioning stare, and he grinned a little.
“Blf hkvmw nliv grnv drgs nv gszm zmbylwb vohv. Dsb rh gszg?” he asked.
“W- huh?” the homeowner replied dumbly.
“You.” The foreigner jabbed a finger into the homeowner’s chest. He then pointed to himself. “Me.”
The homeowner frowned, feeling his face heat up again.
“I don’t know what you want,” he mumbled.
The foreigner stared thoughtfully, then blushed a little himself.
“Irtsg. Blf wlm'g fmwvihgzmw. Yfg gsv grnv blf hkvmw drgs nv... rg nvzmh z olg,” he said, his gaze soft. He stared at the homeowner for another few moments before announcing, “GUHD-NIGHT,” and lying down.
Weird.
The homeowner turned to stare at the ceiling as the other man got comfortable next to him. The homeowner wasn’t sure what the foreigner had asked him, but clearly it had meant something. And the homeowner felt his chest stirring, like a harsh need for something.
The homeowner turned a little and rested a hand on the foreigner’s hip where his shirt rode up.
The foreigner made a little sound of surprise, but didn’t object.
The other man’s skin was warm, soft underneath the homeowner’s hardened fingertips. He rubbed a little circle into the foreigner’s hip, feeling the bone and fat beneath. And the foreigner let him.
The homeowner didn’t want to go further, didn’t want to know what he was feeling. Years of isolation made him feel so distant from himself, from his identity and desires. So he pulled away from the other man, turned over, and went to sleep.
***
The following night was the same as the last two. The foreigner had knocked, upset about the surgeon, and the homeowner let him in.
The homeowner had found himself spending most of the day with the foreigner after checking the other guests. He told himself it was just to keep learning about the foreigner’s language and home, but it was so much more than that. He knew what was going on.
It felt wrong, to be attracted to the foreigner during a time like this, when the homeowner’s mind was slipping and the foreigner was lost and wanting home. But the homeowner wanted him, needed his touch. The foreigner was the only damn person who understood the homeowner, the homeowner just wanted to be seen, touched, heard.
Now the two lay together in bed again, both above the covers this time.
They faced each other as the foreigner talked about his favorite jazz artists, making all kinds of motions as he spoke to try and get his point across.
The homeowner nodded and listened even though he didn’t pick up most of what the foreigner was saying. One, because the guy spoke a different language, obviously, but two, because the homeowner was focused on the other man’s body, his voice, his lips.
Like last night, the homeowner reached out to rest a hand on the foreigner’s hip. And again, the foreigner didn’t protest. He just made a little noise and kept talking.
But now, the homeowner wanted more. He needed affection from another human being, from the foreigner, who was so unlike everybody else. He was special, he was everything the homeowner wanted right now.
The homeowner pulled the foreigner a little closer by the hip. The foreigner gasped slightly, and through the dark, the homeowner saw him blush.
“Zs- dszg rh gsrh?” the foreigner asked, flustered.
“Please, just…” the homeowner trailed off, swallowing thickly. “I need you.”
The foreigner didn’t understand his words, but he understood the intent. He stayed silent for a moment, eyes wide and face red, before putting a hand on the homeowner’s chest.
“Blf... blf hsziv nb zuuvxgrlmh. R dzhm'g vckvxgrmt gsrh,” the foreigner said fondly, a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.
The homeowner felt his own heart start pounding in his chest. He wondered if the foreigner could feel it.
The desire he felt for the foreigner right now was so intense he almost couldn’t breathe. He was so dreadfully attracted to the man. He didn’t care what this meant about him, he just needed the foreigner’s touch, his attention.
The homeowner pushed the foreigner onto his back, earning a noise of surprise from the man. The homeowner sat up on his hands and knees, hovering over the foreigner.
“Zs- blf orpv gzprmt xlmgilo, sfs?” the foreigner said teasingly, although he was just as flustered as the homeowner was right now.
“I’m so lonely,” the homeowner breathed out. He pushed his hands up underneath the foreigner’s shirt, feeling him up. “But you make me feel… good. Really good.”
As the homeowner slowly pushed his shirt up, the foreigner put his arms around the homeowner’s neck, his breathing heavy, sweat forming on his forehead.
The homeowner fully pulled the man’s shirt up and off of him, tossing it to the foot of the bed.
Immediately, he was enamored with the sight in front of him. The foreigner was pretty thin in the shoulders and chest, but his torso widened out near the bottom, and he had a pudgy stomach and wide hips. The homeowner wanted him all to himself.
“Zs, gsv wzb zugvi R ziirevw, dsvm blf xznv rm gl xsvxp lm nv, R dzh rnnvwrzgvob vmznlivw yb blf. Blf'iv evib xolhvw-luu, yfg blf'iv... blf'iv hvmhrgrev. Blf'iv hl prmw gl nv, blf hsldvw nv blfi svzig. R uvvo R fmwvihgzmw blf, vevm ru dv wlm'g hkvzp gsv hznv ozmtfztv. Kovzhv, R dzmg blf.” The foreigner tugged the homeowner closer by the shirt, his expression so soft, so affectionate. He was so perfect.
“God, you talk a lot,” the homeowner breathed out, leaning down to press his lips against the foreigner’s.
The foreigner moaned and immediately reciprocated the kiss, eager and needy.
The other man tasted a little like blood and nasty wounds, but the homeowner didn’t care. He licked at the foreigner’s lips in between kisses, their harsh breaths mingling.
As they kissed, the foreigner grabbed at the homeowner’s shirt and tugged it off.
The homeowner stopped and blushed, feeling exposed. He wasn’t used to intimacy like this, and he wondered if the foreigner noticed the old scars from childhood still dappling his body.
The foreigner simply hummed a little as he ran his hands up the homeowner’s chest, admiring the man’s body.
“Ufxp, blf ziv hl zggizxgrev. Hl tlitvlfh,” the foreigner sighed with arousal. He laid little kisses across the homeowner’s chest and shoulders, occasionally sucking at the skin.
The homeowner couldn’t suppress a moan. So much touch, so much affection, he was shaking with euphoria. He grabbed the other man by the hips and mashed their lips together again, shoving his tongue into the foreigner’s mouth.
The foreigner moaned again and arched his back a little, until he suddenly yelped and pulled away from the homeowner.
The homeowner immediately let go of him, eyebrows furrowing with concern.
“Fuck, what happened?” he asked, sitting back on his knees.
The foreigner was covering his mouth with a hand, frustration in his eyes.
“Nb nlfgs- nb hgfkrw dlfmwh. Rg sfigh,” he mumbled into his hand. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
His mouth. It must be hurting. Of course, he had holes gouged into it, making out would sting like hell.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the homeowner soothed. “Let me see.”
Gently, he moved the foreigner’s hand away from his mouth, revealing his wounds. A few of the holes were bleeding a little, and looked irritated.
“Nothing too bad,” the homeowner said.
“R'n hliib R ifrmvw gsrh.” The foreigner sounded embarrassed, and deeply upset.
The homeowner sighed. He wished he could track down the guys who had stitched the foreigner’s mouth shut and blast their heads off. But right now, he leaned forward and gently kissed the foreigner, trying to comfort him and soothe the wounds.
The foreigner sighed a little, appreciating the kiss. He sat up and pressed against the homeowner’s chest, his cheek against the homeowner’s collarbone.
“Gsv dliow rh z mrtsgnziv, R nrhh nb uznrob, nb wvzi uirvmw, zmw gslhv kvlkov- gsvb sfig nv qfhg yvxzfhv gsvb xlfowm'g fmwvihgzmw nv. Gszg'h dszg szkkvmh gl kvlkov orpv nv.” The foreigner shook a little, and the homeowner felt wet tears on his chest.
Fuck, the homeowner had no clue what to do. He wasn’t used to being comforted, so he had no fucking clue how to comfort someone else. So, he just hugged the man close and rubbed his back.
“Zg ovzhg R ulfmw blf. R wlm'g pmld dszg R dlfow szev wlmv ru blf szw mlg ovg nv rm,” the foreigner said, gazing up at the homeowner. There was affection in his teary eyes.
The homeowner just nodded.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said. It had been… a very eventful day — or night — to say the least.
He slowly laid down with the foreigner still in his arms, holding the man close, pulling the covers over their bodies.
Calm now, the foreigner sighed contentedly, laying his cheek against the homeowner’s.
“Guhd-night,” he said softly.
The homeowner couldn’t help but smile.
He wasn’t going to reflect on what had just happened tonight. But the foreigner meant so much him, even if that attraction was messy. The world was so fucked up, the homeowner was actually glad for a distraction from it all, for a companion. He hadn’t realized how much he had needed another soul to share himself with.
The homeowner fell asleep easily, warmed by the other man in his arms.
***
The surgeon was gone. FEMA had taken him the next night.
Everybody in the house knew when someone was taken by FEMA, because nobody wanted it to be them. Who knew what FEMA did with their chosen test subjects?
After all the commotion, everybody had scrambled back to their chosen sleeping rooms, and now the homeowner was back in his, lying in bed.
His heart was still pounding.
The whole time FEMA had been inspecting the house, deciding on which two people to take, the homeowner had been nearly sick with fear that they would choose the foreigner. But they had simply been disturbed by the man’s mouth and moved on.
The homeowner couldn’t lose him. The foreigner was all he had in this horrible world. He was the only person in years to show the homeowner genuine affection. The neighbor had been a good friend, but obviously nothing like the foreigner.
But now with the surgeon gone, the homeowner wondered, would the foreigner return to the storage closet? His original reason for sleeping in the homeowner’s bedroom in the first place was gone.
About half an hour passed, and the homeowner still just lied there, staring at the ceiling.
Until a knock sounded at the bedroom door.
It was embarrassing, how quick the homeowner sat up out of bed and threw the door open. But now wasn’t the time to be embarrassed.
The foreigner stood in the doorway, looking a little shy. He was an incredible sight.
“Zs... gsv hfitvlm, sv'h tlmv. Yfg gsv xolhvg rh z yrg olmvob...” the foreigner said with his hands on his neck as he grinned sheepishly at the homeowner, blushing a bit.
The homeowner pulled the man in by the hips, kicking the door shut behind them.
“Whatever- just come in, god,” the homeowner sighed, wasting no time in kissing the foreigner like his life depended on it — but not hard enough to hurt the other man. He had learned his lesson from last night.
A little over an hour ago, the homeowner had been afraid he would lose the foreigner for good. He never wanted to let the other man go.
The foreigner hummed contentedly, grabbing the sides of the homeowner’s face and kissing back hungrily.
“R dzh slkrmt uli z ivhklmhv orpv gsrh,” the foreigner said in between kisses.
The homeowner pushed the other man down onto the bed, crawling on top of him once again. The two grabbed at each other’s clothes desperately, tearing off shirts and jeans until the two were only in boxers.
“I thought I was gonna lose you,” the homeowner sighed, pressing his face against the foreigner’s neck, breathing him in. He smelled like old blood and sweat. “I need you. You make me forget about everything, about my shitty dad, how fucking lonely I am.”
The foreigner lovingly kissed all along the side of the homeowner’s face and jaw, hugging the man around the shoulders.
“Rg'h lpzb. R'n sviv, R'n sviv. R wlm'g dzmg blf gl sfig,” he said softly. “Dszgvevi blf'ev yvvm gsilfts, R'n sviv.”
The homeowner just wanted to melt in the other man’s arms. A little bit of his old, hardened trauma felt healed right then.
“You’re so incredible, so fucking hot,” the homeowner groaned, pressing his erection against the foreigner’s thigh. “I want to fuck you so bad. I need you.”
Face going red, the foreigner released the homeowner from his arms and looked him in the eye, his expression nothing short of aroused.
“Y-yes. Puhlease,” he breathed out.
The homeowner made quick work of removing the other man’s boxers, and then his own. All he needed right now was this connection with another human. With the foreigner.
The homeowner propped one of the foreigner’s legs up on his shoulder, then spit in his own hand and teased a finger near the foreigner’s hole.
“This okay?” he asked.
The foreigner had a hand over his mouth, looking amazed that this was happening.
“Yes,” he nodded, and grunted with a mix of pain and pleasure when the homeowner stuck a finger up inside of him.
The homeowner had never done this with another man, let alone ever imagined it, but it couldn’t be that different from doing it with a woman, right? The foreigner seemed to be enjoying himself enough.
“Gszg uvvoh tllw- tl wvvkvi,” the foreigner muttered into his hand, voice heavy with pleasure.
Inserting another finger, the homeowner slid them in deeper until the foreigner yelped — with pain or pleasure, the homeowner wasn’t really sure. He looked up from what he was doing to see the foreigner gripping the sheets, teeth clenched.
“Ah- more!” the foreigner commanded.
Must be pleasure, then.
The homeowner continued on, curling his fingers a little, which earned a low moan from the other man. He sounded so good, so fucking good, the homeowner needed more.
He pulled his fingers out of the other man, then spit in his hand one more time, rubbing his own saliva onto his cock.
He stuck himself into the other man, and immediately, the homeowner was moaning and shaking.
The two men grabbed onto each other, moaning words of praise and pleasure as the homeowner thrusted in and out, his pace shaky and desperate.
They felt like one soul right now, lucky enough to find each other at the end of world, sharing a body. It was all sweat and fluids and messy fucking right now, but it was everything the homeowner needed.
He kept going, relishing every noise he got the foreigner to make, until his breathing became ragged and his pelvis clenched up.
“Ah- ‘m gonna come,” he grunted, pushing deep inside of the foreigner until he did, feeling himself fill the other man.
It didn’t take long for the foreigner to finish afterwards. He came all over the homeowner’s stomach with a shout, back arched and legs shaking.
The two stayed in place for a moment, panting and dripping with sweat, until the homeowner pulled out of the other man and collapsed at his side. God, with the heat out, the homeowner was exhausted.
“Fuck, you were so good,” the homeowner sighed, pulling the foreigner in close by his hip. He looked so good right now, completely naked with only an earring.
The foreigner grinned, pushing sweat-slicked strands of hair away from his forehead.
“R szev mlg uvog orpv gszg rm z olmt grnv. Ls, blf nvzm gsv dliow gl nv,” he breathed out, looking sleepy and content.
The homeowner never wanted to let the other man go. Whether they lived or died, he wanted the foreigner there with him.
“Get some rest,” the homeowner said, pulling the sheets up over their bare bodies. He buried his face in the foreigner’s neck and hugged him tight, the foreigner’s back against the homeowner’s chest.
“Guhd-night,” the foreigner hummed, his eyes already falling shut.
***
The world was on fire.
Houses were burning down all around the homeowner’s, people were dying left and right, either from visitors or insane vigilantes or death cults or FEMA, and madness ruled the earth.
Everyone in the house was on edge. What would happen? Would the world just crumble in on itself, destroying all life? Would this somehow all end? What came after this?
And would they survive?
The homeowner sat in bed, his face in his hands.
He would just let this all pass. Whatever was going to happen would happen. He couldn’t let himself slip, couldn’t let himself worry.
As a child, he had been different. He had cried, he had screamed, he had prayed every night that his father would drop dead. But now he had taught himself how to be numb to everything, to avoid people at all costs in fear of feeling anything ever again.
He hated the house. He wished that it would just burn like all the ones around it, sending his past, all of his traumatic memories, up in flames. Because sometimes, as much as he tried to forget, he still had episodes. He still remembered everything his father had done to him, all the scars he’d left.
The homeowner still didn’t know how to feel about the cataclysm. Which sounded ridiculous, but he didn’t know who he was as a person, what he wanted out of existence.
But there was someone he had now who was helping him open up.
A knock sounded at the door. The homeowner stood up to open it. And there was the foreigner.
“R'n dliirvw. Gsrmth zivm'g ollprmt tllw. Dszg ru dv wlm'g nzpv rg? R'oo mvevi hvv nb slnv ztzrm!” he said, grabbing onto his neck like usual, panic in his voice.
The homeowner sighed, then simply pulled the man inside and shut the door.
He wrapped the foreigner up in his arms, pressing their faces together.
“Please,” he whispered, holding onto the other man like he’d slip away at any moment. “Just… just lie with me tonight. We’ll take shelter in the basement tomorrow.”
The homeowner was pretty sure the foreigner didn’t quite understand what he had said, but he nodded anyway.
The two men crawled underneath the covers together, holding each other tight.
“I don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” the homeowner began, his voice thick, “but don’t leave me. Please. You’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in years.”
“Glnliild... R wlm'g fmwvihgzmw. Yfg R droo hgzb drgs blf,” the foreigner responded.
Neither of them said anything else the entire night, they simply held each other until the sun rose.
***
The next night, the homeowner was boarding the windows shut, hammering down old wooden planks he’d found in the basement.
The other guests were scrambling around too to help protect the house, which would either become their savior, or their resting place.
“If we actually survive, what’ll be fucking left?” came the voice of the very tall man who had been kicked out of a bar at the beginning of the cataclysm. He was lugging wood up from the basement. “A bunch of rubble, that’s what.”
The man was kind of right, but some of the survivors here actually wanted to see normal daylight again, so the homeowner kept his mouth shut.
“Man, I just wanna see another movie, you know?” said the stoner, who was just sitting and watching the barricading process. “I miss that shit. Even if the world is like, fucking gone, I wanna feel human one last time and watch somethin’. I’ll have to figure out what that somethin’ is, though…”
God, the homeowner would have to be stuck with these people in a tiny room for about two fucking months, if he had counted their rations correctly.
As the homeowner finished nailing a board into place, the foreigner came up beside him. At least someone down there would make for good company.
“R'ev nzwv hfiv zoo lu lfi ullw rh rm gsv yzhvnvmg, zolmt drgs zoo gsv nvwrxzo hfkkorvh uiln gsv yzgsilln,” he said, pointing down to the basement door.
“Whatever you said, thank you,” the homeowner nodded.
The foreigner smiled, pleased with the praise.
The foreigner had lost his home, he had no idea if his family was still alive or not, and he had been attacked and brutalized for speaking another language. But despite all that, he still had a spark of hope in his eyes. Whether it was naivety or something else, the homeowner didn’t know. But it was nice to have somebody around still clutching to humanity, to the belief in existence.
Somebody who the homeowner had found peace, affection, and companionship in. Somebody he wasn’t afraid to open up to.
The homeowner wondered, would he have developed these feelings for the foreigner if they had met during normal circumstances? He didn’t know. But the foreigner was here now, and that was what mattered.
When everything was boarded up, it was time.
The bar man, the stoner, a widowed woman, and a kindergarten teacher had all descended down the basement steps.
Next was the foreigner.
He took the first step, then turned to look at the homeowner.
“Blf ivzwb?” he asked. “READY?”
The foreigner held out a hand.
The homeowner could turn around right now, let those people take the bunker, and head into the cataclysm to face his own death, let it come with no mercy and end the life he had never been able to love. The life that was so isolated, so numb.
Or he could take the foreigner’s hand and share a new life with this person. He could scream ‘fuck you’ to the end of the world and let himself be truly known, even if death found them anyways. Maybe they’d live through it all. Maybe they’d share the house, erase all of the homeowner’s bad memories with ones of love, of joy. Maybe that would never happen, maybe the homeowner’s life would continue on as numb as always.
But he was willing to take that risk.
“Ready,” he nodded.
He took the foreigner’s hand, and together, the two of them descended down the steps and sealed off the basement door.