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dearestaeneas · 1 year

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hi everyone! happy thanksgiving if you celebrate! holidays can be tough, i know i certainly have a hard time with them. i hope you’re all staying safe in every sense of the word. i wanted to finally write an idea i’ve been sitting on for a while, but when i sat down to actually do it last night this happened instead, and i’m not gonna stop it if this is what wanted/needed to get out. night vale and bee and puppycat are two of my biggest comfort medias and apparently that was just what i needed to think about, and here we are. in the spirit of holidays being tough, here’s a very queer and wholesome short! i am absolutely living vicariously through it and you are welcome to join me (sorry it doesn’t have a title. i’m open to ideas!). happy holidays! take care!<3

word count: 1492

Snow pounded against the windowpane, collecting along the bottom and rising steadily. Eventually the entire window would be nothing more than a white sheet with the muted glow of the streetlight barely shining through.

Moss’s hot chocolate sat abandoned beside them, steaming halfheartedly. The marshmallows they’d so excitedly plopped into the drink several minutes before continued the agonizing process of dissolving into a sticky white mass.

The desk itself was the picture of coziness: a healthy collection of hardcover graphic novels standing between two star-shaped bookends; a tall, thin lamp perched in one corner with a pink lampshade, bathing the desk and surrounding in a soft pink light; dozens of photos carefully placed on the wall depicting Moss and their partner, Alice, at various Renn Faires and parades, as well as drawings left lovingly behind by friends; the forgotten mug of hot chocolate (and, of course, the flower-shaped coaster beneath it), the mug itself depicting Goku proudly brandishing a thumbs-up; and Moss’s open laptop, decorated at random with stickers others had placed themselves. They hadn’t planned to decorate the computer, but when they’d come home from work to find the tiny mushroom stuck in the bottom left corner, the culprit unknown to this day, the collection just seemed to…grow. Soon, any time someone got a free sticker from a march, or even took off a produce sticker, it somehow found its way to Moss’s ancient laptop. They took pride in knowing the laptop was a sort of community project for their friends, especially considering Moss had never put anything on it themselves.

Their hands flew wildly across the keys, the clack clack clacking loud against the snow-muffled sounds of the outside. They stopped suddenly, staring blankly into the word document. Maybe stopping to make the hot chocolate had been a bad idea. They’d pounded out 6 full pages of writing prior, finally in the swing of things after so long completely blocked, and now here they were again: the well of ideas dried up. Switching browsers, they paused their writing playlist; A 4-hour long runtime entirely consisting of Ghibli-themed piano covers. They then proceeded to remove their glasses, rubbing sore eyes. Their headphones came off last: Alice had picked them out, and Moss decided they could just remove the cat ears when they weren’t on a call with her. Of course, the little plastic triangles stayed in exactly the same place they were when the headphones had been bought 2 years ago.

Moss stood slowly, stretching their interlocked fingers toward the ceiling. At their feet Khosekh mewled. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” they said quietly, leaning down to scratch the cat behind his ears. He trailed behind them as they shuffled from their bedroom to the main room of the apartment, toward the small kitchen. The light in the refrigerator had been out for some time, and Moss had decided it was more trouble than it was worth to replace it. Alice was terrible about keeping groceries consistently, and Moss had decided that although they didn’t live together, shopping had to become a group activity. They’d need to go together soon, Moss’s own refrigerator consisting mostly of half-full takeout containers. Selecting one at random, they placed it in the microwave that came with the apartment: only numbers 1-6 worked, with 7, 8, 9, and 0 being luxuries they’d learned to live without. If anything they put in there required more than 6 minutes, some basic math problem would need to be solved first.

Khosekh meowed louder now, extremely indignant. Moss lifted his food bowl, shaking the kibble at the edges toward the middle, and returned it to its little placemat (which consisted of a cartoon drawing of a plate, framed on either side by silverware. Also bought by Alice.). The microwave beeped, and the roommates proceeded to quietly eat dinner standing beside each other.

“You’re late,” Moss said, swallowing a mouthful of fried rice.

The other Moss stood in the doorway, shrugging. “You know how it is.”

At one time, it had been strange to see this version of themselves appear in their living room, talking about things they didn’t understand and people they didn’t know. The Other Moss often complained of their office job and work drama to Moss as if they’d been right next to them at the water cooler and they were finally free of the workday to really gossip together. The Other Moss never once seemed to find anything strange about their relationship.

“Have you eaten?”

The Other Moss removed their blazer and folded it neatly before draping it over the back of the dining chair. “Is that what you’re having?” The disgust was barely veiled.

“What? It’s good.”

“Yeah, the first day. How long ago did you order it?”

Moss shrugged. “Recent enough.”

The Other Moss crinkled their nose. Moss was jealous of the stud they wore, but felt strange about piercing their own nose now, having met the Other Moss. Being the same person, they obviously needed all the physical differences they could get, although those weren’t that difficult to come by. For one, the Other Moss’s hair was always cut short and Moss suspected that if they were to grow it out, it would be pin-straight. The Other Moss also often bragged about wearing contacts, incredibly proud of their comfort with eye-touching, something Moss couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“I’ll just eat later, thank you. How was work?”

“Good! I finally got over that hump I was telling you about last week. I think I might finish this draft by the end of the month.”

The Other Moss came to Moss’s side, ruffling their hair. “There you go, champ!”

Moss appreciated the weirdly paternal role the Other Moss sometimes adopted with them. Formalities aside, the Other Moss proceeded to delve into their own day, complaining at length about the newest secretary at the firm, and the not-so-secret affair she’d entered into with the company’s vice president. Moss listened intently, moving to the couch with their food, Khosekh following on their heels. The Other Moss paced in front of them, talking enthusiastically with their hands. Khosekh’s pupils dilated as his little head darted back and forth watching the Other Moss.

Moss had always wondered why the cat never seemed that bothered by the…double? Referring to them as such always felt off to Moss. After all, to them, Moss was the ‘Other Moss.’

“Ugh, and you know Tom,” the Other Moss groaned.

“What a bastard,” Moss agreed. They had never heard the Other Moss mention this name. He must be new.

“He’s been parking in my spot. 1984 Subaru Hatchback. Wizard painted on the side. And not even tastefully.”

Moss found it hard to believe the Other Moss was someone who could recognize cars by their flavors like that, they certainly couldn’t, but the paint job seemed hard to miss.

Moss nodded. “Despicable what counts as art these days.” They enjoyed the one-sided conversations they had with the Other Moss. After several months of these apparently much-needed vent sessions, Moss finally threw their own hat in the ring and complained about their editor. The Other Moss had been delighted.

In much the same fashion as their other meetings, the Other Moss relieved themselves of their corporate baggage and then kissed Moss on both of their cheeks. “Someday you’ll have to come over.” They said this every time, but Moss knew they didn’t mean it. Even if they did, Moss suspected they wouldn’t be able to get there, wherever it was. The Other Moss usually just appeared on the couch, or simply stepped out of the bathroom as if they’d just been waiting there for Moss to get home. They always left in much the same way, although Moss never actually saw it happen. Khosekh meowed his goodbye, and the Other Moss nodded gravely before mimicking it.

Moss was left alone on the couch, Khosekh loafing on their lap. They scratched him absentmindedly, eyes coming out of focus as they zoned out. It was a necessary practice after visiting with the Other Moss, not out of annoyance or some kind of interactional burnout, but simply because their body needed it. Their phone beeped. The screen lit up, Alice’s text overlaid on a wallpaper featuring the couple’s Halloween costume for that year: Pokemon trainers, with a furious Khosekh held between them, dressed as Gyarados. ‘Hate’ is not a strong enough word for the look on the cat’s face, although he was far too good a boy and Alice had worked far too hard on the costume itself for him to do anything about it.

Alice: are you still working?

Moss: i think i’m done for the night. i think i finally know where i’m headed with it. khosekh and i just had a friend over

Alice: anyone i know?

Moss: maybe

Alice: are they still there? i’m bored and i miiiiiiss you

Moss: you just don’t wanna cook.

Alice: :3