As Tyrone was showering, he couldn't help think about how Steven was acting like nothing went down the night before. Wouldn't Steven apologize for his words? Or at least recognize what they did together?
Tyrone washes his hair, his body, his face. He then dries off and fits into the clothing they had lended him. Tyrone had lost a few pounds, but was feeling nice and full after the slice of pie Steven had given him.
He walks out, his long, Raven black hair down and wet.
Tyrone thanks Steven and Markel for inviting him in. Tyrone didn't like celebrating Christmas. It reminded him of so much— so much memories he tried to push down, but every year, those memories would just resurface. They'd come back more intense each year.
Tyrone didn't dry his face after he got out of the shower, just in case a tear ran down his cheek. At least he'd have a good excuse; "oh! I just got out of the shower. That's why it probably looks like I'm crying."
Men don't cry.
"Steven is in our room right now." Markel said, spreading his legs as he remained sat at the dining room table.
Markel looked at Tyrone's old clothes that he was still holding.
Markel puckers his lips.
"You know, man. Just leave your old clothes here." Markel sighs.
"No point in bringing along some old clothes. I'll wash these for ya. I know how much you must love this jacket of yours. You were it everyday. No point in throwing it out."
Tyrone watched as Markel stood up, towering over him as he takes his old clothes.
"Really? You'd do that?" Tyrone didn't want to sound pitiful. But he couldn't let the kind gesture of Markel break him into a full on crying-fit. To Tyrone, it felt heart warming that someone was thinking of him. It was more effort than Steven had ever put into their situationship.
"Sí. Come back whenever to get your old clothes back." Markel adds as he walks Tyrone down the stairs, through the flower shop and out the door.
"Will do." Tyrone adds before walking off.
He didn't have shoes on.
Tyrone, will your feet freeze?
"Heh, only a bit. But, what's a lil frostbite gonna do to a man like me?"
True, Tyrone.
HOURS LATER
_________________________________
It was now 9pm. It was winter, the sun had set at 5:54. It had been dark for a while now.
Tyrone had been gazing up at the stars on a bench. Watching the snow come down on him. It was beautiful, despite the stinging coldness he felt.
That's when, he hears something.
He slowly raises himself back up, looks around. He was by a nearby, abandoned park. It went abandoned because lots of kids kept getting hepatitis from simply going on the swings.
He looks up, down, right...and that's when he looks left. He sees a stampede of donkeys running towards the town. It looked like an absolute army.
Tyrone gasps. He didn't even know that there was that much donkeys in a place like this. He knew most people in this town had donkeys to carry buckets of water back to their houses from the wells out nearby...but...no...it looked like it was every donkey in Texas!
He rises to his feet as he watches them enter the town. The late night workers start screaming bloody murder.
"Oh no..."
Tyrone sprints back. He comes back into the town square through an alleyway.
He peaks around the corner and watches all the donkeys kicking the windows of all the buildings they could get their filthy hooves on. He watches as they bump and trample women and children. Blood painted the town red.
