Of monsters and men

Epilogue

Ryans POV

Sometimes I wonder why I forget everything.

The small office wreaked of a concoction of paper, coffee, and regret. Though the scent wasn't anything new, it was strangely overwhelming as Ryan stumbled in the tightly packed copy room.

Just a second ago he raced into the room with a purpose. Sweat had dripped down his forehead, papers threatening to fly everywhere as he bolted down the stretch of the hallway leading to the old office. His eyes wide, chests heaving, legs aching.

Now he was alone.

"Fuc-"

"You okay Ry?"

holyfuck.

A small squeak left his throat as a cold hand clamped down on shoulder. Hasilty Ryan glanced down at the long pale fingers resting on his body and immediately tensed up.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

The room suddenly become almost suffocating to stand in. As Ryan found Harry's presence was so strong, and omnius, he casted a dark looming shadow over Ryan. His hairs stood on edge as his body begin to shiver.

"Nice to see you too, Harry," Ryan muttered. Both anger and fear bubbled up in his voice as he crossed his arms, pressing the papers in his hands closer to his chest as he silently watched the taller male step out in front of him. His glasses shifting just barley on his long nose, and he fixed his almost cliche office worker outfit.

A unsettling smile spread from ear to ear across Harry's thin pale face as he looked down at Ryan. His skelton like hand still remaining firmly on Ryan's shoulder as he almost comically peered down at the papers in his arms.

It was nothing of interest, yet Harry dropped his smile when he looked back up at Ryan.

"How about we go get something to eat togher?"

Excuse me?

His words felt so robotic, so...practiced. Like he had spent hours trying to perfect them, and recite them for a crowd to hear. Yet they were so random, out of context. Utterly weird.

"Its three fucking am." A sudden bitterness stung in the back of Ryan's throat as he struggled to maintain his cool. The thing he had forgot about nagged at him, and he awkwardly stared up at Harry.

"Its technically 2:38 a.m."

Like I fucking care.

A silence fell upon the small room. Slowly, Ryan glanced past Harry and practically face palmed himself.

"I gotta go," Ryan muttered. Fear overwhelming him as dark memories flooded his head. Images of blood covered walls and jeering smiles taunted him as his heart sank to his stomach.

"what."

Ryan sighed. For a minute he felt guilty, blowing the guy over. He was weird as hell, but undeniably lonely.

To bad Ryan didn't feel like dying to stay and chat with him.