V (boyxboy short stories)

Virus COVID19

          The only witnesses to the passing of time were countless cigarette butts in the ashtray. The flowers that had withered on the windowsill. Other than that, nothing gave way to the passing of days, perhaps weeks? Or only just a couple hours...

Wyatt hissed when ash fell from his cigarette and onto his knee, burning him slightly. He wiped at the spot and put out his cigarette. Already finished? He didn't even really smoke from it, he had spaced out for about 10 minutes, the cigarette kind of smoked itself... Or did he just do it subconsciously, by reflex?

He was definitely losing it. Time for a walk, then.

One glance out the window changed his mind. A pair of officers scuffing their feet, glancing left and right, exchanging a couple of words between them, their voices muffled by white face-masks.

The inner courtyard it would have to be, then.

His apartment building had a square plan, with a square tiny courtyard in the center. Nobody really went there... the building was so tall that no sun reached the garden- parasite garden, that was. Moss, mold, weeds, a couple dead pigeons...

Throwing over his shoulders the first jacket that came on hand, Wyatt pocketed his cigarettes and a zippo. After a second thought, he also grabbed his mug of cold coffee to take with him.

By reflex, he took a look in the mirror before going out. Not that anyone would see him, but he looked pretty disheveled. Last time he had looked in the mirror he'd had a five-o'clock shadow on his sharp jaw and hollow cheekbones. Now, the beginning of a beard framed his long face, and with his tangled locks of hair he looked positively insane.

As if only to confirm that passing thought, he pulled a funny face, showing his teeth and scrunching up his nose. With a scoff, he opened the door and them slammed it close after him, without bothering to lock it.

Only once on the hallway and going down the stairs did he stop to consider just how old the coffee was.. It could've been from yesterday.. Ah, well.

Once at the ground floor, he took one last peek at the entrance door. The officers were talking to someone, pointing fingers. They were most likely sending them home. Wyatt took that as a cue and went the opposite direction- towards the inner courtyard of the apartment building.

He slowly opened the door with a long creak. It wasn't used much, so it was pretty rusty. But... apparently, it wasn't used as rarely as he thought.

There was someone there.

Wyatt hadn't been remotely close to human contact in a long time. Paranoia, mass hysteria and panic had settled over humanity like tiny dark clouds above their heads, following them everywhere. Coughing was the new n-word, everyone had an invisible shield around them, like they were hamsters in plastic balls, unable to approach each other. After all, covid19 wasn't a laughing matter anymore.

Wyatt chose to be bitter about it. He did lose his job because of the whole pandemic, so he reacted by being in denial. Well, he had always been a cynical person to begin with, but now he had even more of a reason. He'd been provoked and he took it personally.

So he didn't think twice before stepping out and lighting his cigarette. A square of sunlight was cast on the ground, causing the green moss on the walls to glint dully, as well as the droplets of water leaking from the drain pipes. He sighed out smoke and scratched his beard, taking tentative steps towards the person there.

A man about his height, his back was turned towards him. He was also smoking, the same brand of cigarettes as himself. Red Lucky Strike.

"Crazy times, huh?" Wyatt said. He had to clear his throat since it's been so long since he last spoken out loud.