life untouched, sun undiscovered

5-15-19

winter is a cold, unfeeling season. it comes harsh and violent and unfair, with whipping winds and biting snow. it refuses the joy of life, rejects the potential for rebirth, and callously kills all enjoyment of being outside for many people. the romanticizing of winter is a sweet thing, really. cozy fireplaces and hot chocolate warming nearly frost-bitten hands is all well and good to think about, but when it comes down to it, vinnie is still stuck in this stupid cabin and the heating still isn't fixed.

he knows he could probably do it himself if he put in the effort, but the nastiest case of seasonal depression he's had in a while is kicking him right in the ass, and he doesn't really want to do anything. HABIT has wandered out into the woods again, completely ignoring the fact that he could freeze to death if he isn't careful, leaving vinnie alone and silent and tired. his desperate need for a good old depression nap is almost overwhelming, and yet insatiable all at once. he still can't sleep.

as much as vinnie wants to avoid it, being alone gives him time and space to reflect on how utterly mundane his life has become. his day-to-day has gone from narrowly avoiding death around every single corner to scolding habit for not doing the dishes or being scolded by habit for not picking up the milk. things have become so startlingly domestic between the two of them that vinnie has been stopped in his tracks by habit reminding him to do basic chores in the morning, or asking what he wants for breakfast. he's also forced to wonder when, exactly, habit replaced evan in his mind.

vinnie barely thinks about evan anymore. the lingering sensation of dread is still there whenever he has to look at habit, but it's become so small that it's almost entirely unnoticeable. habit's name rolls off his tongue so easily now, a reflex whenever he sees him walk into or out of a room, and their interactions have become so unnervingly casual as the months have passed. habit feels like he was always there, now, and he can't really recall a time when he wasn't at least somewhat present among them. living with habit just feels like having a roommate, and being around habit just feels like being with an old friend. sometimes it makes vinnie sick, and 

other times it's horrendously comforting.

it's nice, really, having habit looking out for him. habit makes sure vinnie isn't starving to death or in danger of being hunted down by that tall motherfucker or lost out in the cold, hard rain somewhere. habit keeps him relatively safe, and vinnie is beyond appreciative of the reprieve that has given him. he has time to rest, and as genuinely complicated as he recognizing their relationship as being, it doesn't bother him as much anymore if he just doesn't think about it. the lines that divide what he and habit are have been blurred beyond comprehension. vinnie knows that habit likes to fuck with him, just for fun. to dig under his skin and make playful little jabs that won't really hurt vinnie, but irritate him, or get him laughing along. he's become alarmingly proficient in brightening vinnie's spirits, and he supposes that was inevitable considering how long they've spent in such close quarters, but it doesn't make him any more comfortable with the idea that this monster of his has just decided that vinnie is someone worth cheering up. he won't pretend like he hates it, but he doesn't know if he likes it, either.

vinnie's feelings towards habit, however, have become increasingly convoluted as time has crawled between them. he never really hated him, and he was never really scared of him, but he didn't really like him, either. things have begun to change, at least in that regard, with their passing casual conversations and the way habit gets all touchy out of nowhere. vinnie doesn't like to think about the way his heart jumps in his chest whenever habit gives him any kind of remotely affectionate contact, and he doesn't like to think about the way his head fuzzes up whenever habit flashes that all-teeth grin of his.

the clock ticks, and because vinnie hasn't yet realized how much time he's spent doing absolutely nothing, he can't help but be a bit startled when habit just suddenly walks through the door and slams it behind him. his clothes and skin are, of course, stained with half-dry blood, and vinnie can't even be phased by the site anymore. the cold, biting edge of his words has long since melted away, pushing back ice-cold snow to reveal a pregnant earth underneath, brimming with life untouched. when habit says his name, vinnie can hear the sun peak through, and it makes him hope for something he doesn't understand.

winter is vinnie's favorite season, and he supposes habit is like winter, if anything at all.