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You stumble off the bus, righting yourself as you take to the streets just as you had done so weeks before. You had just moved into Uncanny Valley, a name that suited the little town a lot more than it really should. Of course, you never believed in the supernatural or any conspiracies floating the internet; but even you would occasionally run across someone that looked not quite human, or a set of buildings that look wrong in a way you can never seem to place. You had to admit, it was part of the charm the place had. Despite your natural affinity for logic and reason, you were often drawn to the very things that seem to defy it.You stop, barely noticing that you had arrived at your destination outside of your thoughts. You look up at the neon sign buzzing overhead, the flickering letters barely spelling out the supermarket's name. You walk through the automated doors, grabbing an abandoned cart on your way. You make your way through a familiar path, following the same route you've taken week after week. Fumbling for your phone, you pull up the list you haphazardly threw together the night before. Today was your day off, so you were working through various errands that had piled up through your work week. Right now you were focused on restocking your home to last another two weeks before you inevitably have to do it again. You quite enjoyed it, it was a good way to get out of the house; something you struggled with more and more these days. You continue down your path, ducking into a familiar aisle to grab the first item on your list when something catches your eye.you squint at the tag that lines the shelf under your item. The price is higher than you remember it being, but that can't be right. They already had been marked up the week before, or was it two weeks before- you weren't sure. It didn't matter, besides- maybe it was just this item!
God, you hoped it was just this item.
You continue through your list, mentally jotting down any new prices on items you could have sworn were cheaper last time you visited. Halfway through the store, you flick out your phone to try and calculate your total as you go. By the time you reach the end, the string of numbers glaring from your device are clearly higher than your budget. You reluctantly scan over your cart, picking out some of your bounty to put back. Rest in peace comfort foods, you will be missed. Fortunately you really didn't have to leave out that much, much less anything you needed. Still, prices being raised so soon after the last increase (you hoped; every day was so similar to the last it was getting hard to keep track) was a pretty bad sign. The gas station sure as hell wasn't going to pay you any more, and even if you were fine this time around you wouldn't have anything to put aside for emergencies with your current income. The thought was reasonably unsettling, and while you would just apply for another job the gas station was already taking up most of your time…Finishing up in the self-checkout, you grab your bags and walk back to the bus stop. You search your brain for other possibilities that could provide you some extra cash. You didn't really have anything to sell, nor did you have the talent or popularity to set up some kind of online shop so that was out of the picture. Your brows are furrowed as you sit down to wait for the bus, deep in thought.You thought back to the makeshift office room you had in your apartment, something you threw together that worked well enough as an extra room. You also recall the difficulty you faced trying to find a place to move into not too long ago. If you got yourself a roommate, you two could share the rent right? Ah. Slight problem with that, you didn't really know anyone here outside of your co-workers; and they already had a place.The bus screeched to a halt in front of you, opening its doors in a manner that can almost be described as friendly. You find a seat as your thoughts start to wander, waving to the bus driver as you got on. Did people still put up advertisements nowadays? You could try that. Honestly, it would probably help to know how people usually find roommates outside of friends. Lingering on that thought, you pull out your phone and spend the length of the bus ride flicking around google to try and see what references you could find. Unfortunately by the time you reach your stop you have nothing to show for it, save for a few sparse websites you weren't comfortable putting the requested information on.The walk home takes longer than you would have liked, your groceries reminding you of how out of shape you have gotten by spending most, if not all, of your time working behind a counter. You're a little disheartened by that fact, but it's not like you can do much to work on it between your job and personal errands. You set down your handful of bags on the kitchen counter, putting away the food as you mull over your options. Once you have most of your stock put away, you make a quick google search for libraries in the area.You don't know how often people use or read flyers, but it's worth a shot. If all else fails you can just bully yourself into signing up for a sketchy website, no harm no foul. You throw together a quick advertisement through a website built for doing so, and walk into your office to try and figure out what you can do with it. It's not the biggest, but it should suffice once you get the desk out. You figure you can leave some of the cabinets in as long as you empty them out, which you get to work on right away. You leave the desk, though. You didn't have the energy to move it right now, nor did you have any place to put it without rearranging your other stuff as well. Not that you had a whole lot, the apartment was just small. You uh. Don't exactly have a spare mattress on hand. Oops. The couch should be comfortable enough to sleep on if the need arises, so you don't let yourself worry about it too much. You just hope that isn't a deal breaker for anyone- or that they had their own mattress. You steal a glance at the time as you brush aside the office's “door”, which just consisted of an old curtain you had when you moved out, The bold letters from your phone reading 5:38 pm. You take a moment to make a few more searches; both for the hours of the library and the public transport that could take you to it. You pause before you depart, questioning if this was really a good idea. You weren't sure how acceptable it was, but you bit down the negative thoughts. Why think things through when you can be impulsive, after all.You do look over your lease to confirm that there isn't anything against another person living with you, seeing as you would rather not get in trouble for this. Fortunately for you, there isn't. Patting yourself on the back for actually being somewhat responsible for once, you grab your keys, with some other necessary tools, and step out as you put directions into your phone.It doesn't take long for you to arrive, signing up for a library card at the front desk with the help of a friendly old woman. You shuffle over to the public printers, and insert a few coins to pay for a good amount of paper. The machine comes to life as it starts chugging away, sending out fresh paper adorned with your ad. You stand around for the few minutes it takes, trying to look less awkward than you felt. Eventually the printer dies down and you take your stack of papers, heading out.You reach into your pockets, producing a stapler you brought from home, and go around the town to put up flyers wherever you see fit. You have one on the library's community board, place some around various stores, and by the bustling streets. You're hanging one up by the local café you tend to frequent when an eerily vibrant shade of red catches your eye. You turn towards an all-too familiar realtor, grimacing when you see what you assume is a new client. You don't wave, you hope he doesn't notice you at all, the only reason you stopped was to take in the poor teenager his attention is focused on. They seem to be trying to politely decline whatever offer he has, something you can somewhat relate to. You tense up when he looks over in your direction, a cold sense of dread washing over you as his smile falls from his face.He isn't looking at you though, so you take the opportunity to leave. You don't check to see what held his attention in such a way, nor do you want to. You round the nearest corner, only slowing down and releasing the tension in your body once you've made it a comfortable few blocks away.The sun was rather low in the sky when you returned to the bus, and its already begun to set by the time you reach your apartment door. You place your stapler in front of your couch, drag yourself to the bathroom to get changed and clean yourself up, and fall into the safe confines of your bed. You pass out almost instantly, comforted by the warm sheets and the quiet ambience the night brought. ——————————————————————————— You are rudely awakened by the familiar siren of your alarm, a groggy glance to the side confirming that you had slept in. Groaning, you pull yourself out of the warm embrace your blankets brought and proceed through the regular motions of getting ready for work. Throwing on some clothes (that may or may not be dirty) and a pair of running shoes, you book it to the station. Through some stroke of luck, the bus arrives rather quickly. Not that it matters all too much, by the time you get to the gas station and check in it's already 30 minutes past the scheduled start to your shift.Being stationed behind the cash register, you have a pretty good view of the store. Granted, this only really allows you to occasionally exchange a few words with a co-worker stocking the shelves or cleaning up a mess, but you enjoy those small interactions nonetheless. They're nice, and it sure beats being alone the whole shift with how few customers actually stop inside.Unfortunately for you, right now the store was just empty. You spend about five minutes drumming your fingers on the counter before resting your head in the palm of your hand. Your gaze finds itself stationed towards the glass doors, and you catch your thoughts drifting off. You absently wonder if anyone has seen any of the flyers you put up yet, granted it's barely been a day. What if no one is interested? You should probably have a backup solution just in case, maybe you could offer cheap mentoring? Wait, no- there isn't even a school of kids nearby to mentor.It takes longer than you would like to admit to notice the customer walking in. You make sure to offer a haphazard welcome to them; even if they seem to ignore you. Not that you blame them, you aren't exactly the type to stop and chat with employees either. You straighten up as the customer, a middle-aged woman, strolls up to check out a bag of chips and some shitty obscure drink. You give her the total and wave goodbye halfway out of habit as she leaves.Only another ten minutes pass before you're back to absently staring out the window. It takes about fifteen before you're on your phone, looking up only to see a car pull in to refuel on gas. The rest of your shift drags on, no one really stopping in since the first lady, before four pm finally brings you sweet release. The energy you felt drained away for the entirety of your shift starts to recover as you rush to check out and leave, stuffing your phone into your pocket and jogging back to the bus stop. Plugging in some headphones and turning on your playlist, you find a seat on the bus and begin zoning out for the ride. A few songs in and you can see the old, rusted sign marking your stop.You watch colour fly by outside the bus window, and even find yourself jogging to your apartment complex with a cheery mood. The weather is nice, you're off work, and your excited to check your email even if you know you won't see anything of relevance this quickly. Not that it matters, it's always just been fun to check even if you know nothings there. Kind of like the excitement that thinking about getting a package brings, even when you never order anything to get a package in the first place. Your attention is stolen halfway up the stairs by a stranger lingering outside your door. You come to a standstill, instinctually reaching for your pocket. There's no real point, you don't have anything remotely defensive on you, but the tight grip on your keys help to ground you as you take a careful step forward.You clear your throat, the man's head snapping over to your direction. The grin on his face widens when he meets your eyes. You get a better look at him at the top of the stairs, from his long unruly hair that looks like it hasn't been washed in a few days to the black nails peeking out of his jacket sleeves. Everything about the man in front of you looked… wrong. There wasn't anything distinct about it, he just looked off in a way that sent chills down your spine. You silently hoped you looked more collected than you were, before chastising yourself for getting so thrown off in the first place. It was just some dude, get over it.“Can I help you?” You're the first to speak up, the man offering nothing but an empty stare for a solid beat as he looks you straight in the eye. Eventually, he finally responds, breaking the awkward staring contest. “You were looking for a roommate.” He holds up one of your flyers from the pocket of a jacket hanging loose around his arms.“I am.” you hold his unrelenting stare, distantly wondering if he knew what the concept of blinking was. It was meant to be a joke, but it fell a little short. “are you interested?” his answer comes far too quickly, granted its just a 'yes". He seems excited by your response, as you feel a sense of unease pool in your gut. You don't even know why, it's not like the guy has done anything wrong but it still felt like everything in you was screaming to get away from him. You tried to shove it down and ignore the feeling. “That's great then! Although I do apologize if I made you wait. I just got back from work.” You were not prepared for this, you wonder why he didn't just email you. You put your email on the ad for a reason.He giggles, the sound grating against your ears. “Can I come in?” He asks, causing you to grimace. You aren't exactly one for unexpected guests, or unexpected interactions at all really. The lingering feeling in your gut helps to make it easier to decline, at least. “I'm sorry to waste your time but I haven't cleared everything out yet,” You start with an apologetic look on your face, hoping to buy yourself more time and escape the increasingly uncomfortable exchange, “My email was on the flier, I can-”“I don't mind! You aren't a waste of time.” He cuts you off with a sentence that takes all too long to process.…What the fuck? Where did that come from? You run through any other memories, but you swear you haven't seen him before. Was he trying to flirt with you? Or was he just trying to be polite?? You didn't want to consider any other, more unsettling possibilities.After an uncomfortably long silence you manage to reboot yourself, and attempt to continue the conversation. “…Right, well.” You realize you never got his name. Shit, how were you fucking up this early on. “Uh- What do you want me to call you by?” You felt the slight heat of embarrassment reach your face as you choked out your words.“Oh! You can just call me John Doe.” You file that away for later, mentally opting to just call him Doe (John felt weirdly out of place just for how… normal. It was). You were probably overthinking this, considering you did not want this man in your house much less living with you. For the meantime, you grin and bear it. “Gotchya, will do.” You give a mock salute for fun, “I do have some things to do though and the room is not ready to be looked at, much less moved into. How about I call you later?” You don't know how much you would really want to, but you can't take it back now.His smile strains for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I fine with waiting, I could even help out!” He clasps his hands together in a pleading motion. You didn't know why he was so persistent, it was starting to grate on you. On one hand, you don't want to be an asshole, but on the other…“I'm sorry, but no.” shouldering past him you try to ignore the prickle of eyes on your back, fumbling with your door until it clicks open. The last you see of John, he’s taking a step toward you shouting the first half of your name.The door slams shut before he can finish, and as rude as it was you don't feel all too bad. At the very least, your tired brain supplies, he finally dropped that unsettling smile. ——————————————— You receive your next paycheck over a week later. You look at the number and grimace; it's not like you expected the pay to get any higher, but it was still disappointing. Since John Doe, no one has contacted you or shown interest in the open room. You were already starting to feel the drawback on your spending's, and a part of you was tempted to reply to one of the few emails Doe had sent after your… encounter. You had been somewhat avoiding him, due to a mix of embarrassment over your own actions and the lingering dread you had felt when you were around him.But you needed the money, and whether your gut sense of danger was accurate or not you didn't have the self preservation to care. You hastily type out an email offering to meet up at a nearby coffee shop, if he was still interested in the room, to discuss the -possibility- of letting him live with you before you can talk yourself out of it. For better, or for worse.The response is immediate, a simple ‘yes’, and the time it takes for you to sit down at a table in the corner of the shop, drumming your fingers on the surface waiting for the other to arrive, flies by all too quickly.You start to question if this was a mistake when the door gives a small jingle and a familiar face greets your vision. No backing out now, you suppose. You wave him over, mentally reminding yourself to be polite. Doe's face lights up when he sees you, quickly walking over to the table you're seated at.He slides into the same booth as you, sitting way too close as he leans forward and intertwines his hands together. You manage to scoot over a little to give yourself some space, though it's not as much as you would like.“Hey, glad you could make it,” you begin reciting a script you had formed in your head on the walk here, pausing to stick out your hand for a handshake. You find it to be… not uncomfortable. He lets go of your hands too, granted you should probably be concerned as to why you doubted that he would.“Hey.” He drawls out, you wait for him to continue but he just… doesn't. You cough into your hand, trying to make up for your false assumption by pulling out a notebook where you wrote down all the things you didn't want to forget to bring up. You look back up at him, avoiding eye contact as your gaze settles on his shirt. It's got a red spiral on it that you think is kind of neat, maybe you'll ask where he got it later or something.“I uh, just had a few questions to ask you. Kind of like an interview? If that makes sense?” Doe doesn't respond, instead he just continues to smile at you. You take a breath, opting to just start asking questions. “What's your current income? Where do you work?” You figured it would be important to check that he could even pay you before anything else, especially if you were going to be living together.“It's…” he fiddles with the strings of his jacket “enough. I work at a store down the road from here.”You're starting to get annoyed, or maybe you're overwhelmed and the unhelpful answer tied it all together. You acknowledge the part of your brain that tells you to punch him.You don't, of course. Instead, you shove the impulse down and look over at a menu covering the wall. “There's plenty of stores down the road, I want to know the specific name.” Trying to keep the edge out of your voice, you wonder if you should order something. It feels rude not to.“...A store.” You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. He was bad at deflecting, which wasn't really helping this go by any smoother. He raises his hands defensively, an amused energy in the gesture.“That's the name, 'A Store'.”“You have to be bullshitting me right now.”“You can look it up if you don't believe me.”You do, low and behold; that's the actual fucking name. Who would have guessed. You bark out a laugh, leaning forward to grip the sides of your stomach. It wasn't that funny, really, you think your reaction was mostly caused by the aftermath of earlier stress than genuine amusement. When you finally recovered, leaning on the table, you stole a look back at John.Your breath caught in your throat at how he was looking at you. He looked happy, which should be a good thing, but something about his expression was just so… creepy. You felt the hair on the back of your neck rise, as dread pooled back into your gut. He was close, too close. You gestured towards the counter, your mouth suddenly dry. “I was thinking of getting something, if you wanted anything.” You needed an excuse to put some distance between the two of you. When he doesn't move, you trip over some vague noises and gestures before managing a measly; “can you let me out.”Thankfully, he doesn't comment on your embarrassing display of tomfoolery, and steps out of the booth. You shuffle out and make your way to the counter, picking the first drink you saw that seemed appealing.So, naturally, you nearly jump out of your skin and scream at the sound of a low voice right next to your ear. Nearly. You have some dignity.Spinning around you find one John Doe standing right behind you, looking at you with his head cocked to the side and a neutral expression.“Do you like being scared?”“Jesus what were you even-” what.His face breaks out into a grin. “You're cute when you're scared.”What the fuck.Okay. Well. You were just gonna ignore that, as you turned back around to order. You think Doe orders something too from where he lingers behind you, but you're not sure. You absently note that you're zoning out again, fumbling through your wallet to pay. Drink in tow, you sit back down as Doe takes his place right beside you. At least he left a bit more space this time.“Do you have any allergies?” You continue with your list of questions, most of them being met with a yes or a no. You learn that no, he’s not allergic to anything nor does he own any pets. He doesn't smoke, generally wakes up in the morning like you do and seems to lack any personal hobbies. His answers are pretty generic, you find yourself surprised by how boring he is. In all fairness you didn't really do much either, so you guessed you were both in the same boat when it came to that.At some point you run out of questions, but you find that you don't really want to leave just yet. Doe may look creepy, and sure some of the things he says are too, but it's been a long time since you've just met up and talked to someone. You find that you really missed it.“Thinking back on it, we haven't really gotten a lot of customers recently. I guess I should be happy that I don't have to deal with any rude people, but it can be pretty boring.” You shrug, “Guess that's just how working customer service is, though.”Doe hums, “The store owner talks about annoying customers quite often, he gets quite a few of them.” You raise your head to look at him, “He works at his own store?”“Yes?”“Oh. I suppose it makes sense, since it's not a chain. Cool.”Doe doesn't respond, looking over at you as an empty cup is being spinned around in your hand. Things are quiet for a while, save for the sounds of the other customers. You're jolted out of the comfortable atmosphere by a hand on your shoulder. You tense up, jerking away from the unexpected touch.“What the hell?” The words are spat out by impulse, as you look over to where Doe sits closer than before. His hand lingers in the air before he drops it, a disappointed look on his face.“I asked if you wanted me to throw that away.” He points at the cup in your hand. You hastily shake your head; “Oh, uh- no. I got it.” You expect him to get up and let you out, but he stays put. He’s back to staring at you, to which you return a confused stare back.The two of you spend a moment like that, just… staring at each other. The air in the room feels odd, you think. Somehow the little stare-off you've found yourself in feels almost competitive? Maybe?? You can't place it, but there's something in it that feels suffocating.“…I can have the room empty by Thursday, if you want to come by then.” Its random, you have no fucking idea where that even came from, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Granted, for some reason you feel relieved when he gives you a giddy smile.“I would love to!”You walk out of the café ten minutes later, carrying both a phone number and Thursday plans that you didn't have before.