Strange 2

“You know, it is nice in here, maybe I should add more lights to my room?” Sam hummed as he laid in Synth’s bed, one of his hands playing with the fiber optic light on her nightstand. The various lights and leds casting an odd multicolor glow onto everything in her bedroom. It was chaotic, but also comforting in a way, all placed just so with a purpose.

“I think you have enough lights in your room,” Synth sighed as she sat up and stretched, gloved hand going to the back of her neck to rub there. She had the tv off, her shifting and crackling head on display, honestly the brightest light in the room compared to the decorations. “I think if you added anymore you’d start a fire.”

“Then do what you did for your shit for mine, bam. Problem solved,” His eyes followed her movement now, enjoying the display. 

“I don’t think I want to dig around your room to set it up. I fear what I might find,” She gave a slight chuckle, though she was also serious. Her first and last extended visit to his room was unpleasant, even with the nice red lighting here and there. To be frank, his room was a disaster area and she was certain there had to be pests.

“It's not that bad.”

“I think we have different definitions of what “bad” is, Sam.”

His face scrunched up as he frowned at her, “It’s all organized, I know where everything fucking is. I don’t know why everyone is on my ass about my damn room. I even have a trash can, thank you very much.”

“A trash can that is hidden beneath a pile of trash,” She smiled, once again feeling amused by his ranting. It was fun to set him off whenever she could, his reactions managed to entertain her for a while. 

“It’s still there! You gotta give me fucking credit for that,” His indignant moth noises were starting up as he tried to defend himself. “My bed is clean, I sleep in it!”

“Once again, I’ve seen those damn blankets, your greasy ass has those, the pillows and the bare mattress stained.”

“Everything is patterned!” 

“I have to do laundry after each time we do this,” She waved her hand between them.

“Fuck.”

That caught her off guard, “What?”

“We fuck, bone, have sex. It’s fucking annoying that you don’t just say it,” He huffed. “Were you raised catholic or something? Certainly fuck like a repressed little church-goer.”

She actually snorted at that, “You’re awful, you’re actually terrible.”

He grinned at her, rolling onto his side and propping his chin up on his hand, “So?”

“So what?”

“Catholic?”

“One of the flavors of Christianity,” She admitted, not seeing the harm in telling him. 

“Ha! Fucking knew it,” He pumped one of his arms and cackled, “Another win for Sam the Man! The sex whisperer, I can read anyone after one lay!”

Ah. There’s the harm. “God, you’re the worst,” She sighed, reaching over and sending a slight shock through one of his antennas with a flick. But she frowned, head shuddering when she saw the edge of her glove had curled up her wrist, revealing the scars standing out against her gray skin. Yanking it back, she tugged it down, flexing her hand against the feeling. 

His eyes zeroed in on it, patting down his hair and straightening his antenna after getting shocked, “Why do you wear those all the time?”

“Because I do,” She responded a bit tersely, already not liking where this was going. 

“Well that’s not a fucking answer, is it a sex thing?”

“Not everything is a sex thing, you little freak.”

“We are currently both fully fucking bare-assed naked right now. You bitched about me wearing socks when we fuck and yet you wear those damn things all the time!”

“It feels weird, your socks are crusty, Sam, it's gross.”

“They're my “getting lucky” socks, I have to wear them!”

“I'm going to burn them, I mean it.”

He sighed and muttered, “Oh my fucking God, do you have some sort of germ thing?”

“No? We had sex in your room once, if I had germaphobia I would've lit everything- and us- on fire.” 

“That's just rude, my room is fine, and you were totally fucking into it.”

“Are we really going to have this discussion again? Your room could be labeled as a biohazard.”

“It is not!” He grumbled before shaking his head. “That’s not the point, why do you even wear them? You showed me this,” he gestured to her neck, “Your hands can't be any more fucked up.”

She shot him a warning glare, “It's different.”

“How? How is it different? It's all the same shit, right? You showed me one, I don't see why you're so bent out of shape with the other.”

“I can see it…” A hand went to her throat, fingers gliding over the lightened, branching scars there, “I can't see these, so it's fine. I can't ignore my hands.” 

He started at her hands now, imagining the scarring there. He could always see hints of them under the edges, always just out of sight. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling, the stars from the projector she had set up gliding around, “Seems kind of fucked you're still not over it.” 

“Ex-cuse me?” She was dumbfounded at this man's audacity. Does he seriously have a death wish or something? 

“You heard me, you've been down here for how long?” 

“A while.”

“Exactly, and you're still being a little bitch about how you kicked the bucket. Kind of pathetic, really.”

Her entire head twisted and crackled at what he said, “You don't know anything about what happened to me!”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“I don’t have- No.”

“Then you're being a big bitch over it, case closed,” He shrugged, keeping his gaze glued to the ceiling. His twitching antennas and mouth was giving away how nervous he was getting, he could already feel the ass kicking she was going to give him. 

Only a mouth was seen now, jagged teeth accompanying the distortion of her voice, “Well, how did you die, then, huh? If it's such an easy fucking thing to talk about!” 

“Getting my dick sucked,” Was his knee-jerk reaction. 

“How did you die?” She wasn’t dropping it now that he brought it up, she was heated and wasn’t going to cool down with his usual antics.

“Doing lines with a super fucking awesome band you probably don’t know.”

“Come on-”

“Choking on a Mcnugget, ever wonder why my voice is all fucked up?”

“Samuel-”

He finally snapped with, “Why should I fucking tell you anything if you’re gonna be a big baby bitch and not tell me? What’s the fucking point? It’s not like it matters in the end anyways. We fucked up while we were alive and now we’re stuck here forever. You just have to get over it, Synth, and move the fuck on.”

There was a tense silence between them for a minute, both of them following different light patterns around her room. Synth always hated moments like this, it made her stomach churn. She’s not stupid, she knows why she gets like this and reacts the way she does. It hurts and she doesn’t like thinking about it, let alone talking about it. Hell, she only told their group what happened once she trusted them enough.

It had been awkward and painful, but not impossible, and she felt better after talking about it. She had needed to do it so she could start her life over. Well, afterlife, and even then she wasn’t really doing that much differently, apparently. She’s hiding again, just with people she knows won’t hurt her. It’s getting tiring, honestly. 

So, coming to a decision, she hesitantly and quietly said, “I was… killed. By people I know- knew… Murdered.”

He raised his brows and looked uncomfortable for a second before hiding it with a shrug, “Join the club.”

She couldn’t process what she heard, clearly she was misunderstanding what he had said. Maybe she’s having a fucking hell-stroke. “What?”

“Goddamn- Same here, Synth! Welcome to the Got Murdered club, glad to have ya! Big fucking whoop, its out of the way now, so let’s just-” 

“My friends killed me,” She blurted out. “I- They just wanted my ideas, they took everything I did and created and took the credit. And the money. I was happy to do it, they were my friends, I would do anything for them. And they just killed me after all I did for them! Just because I wanted to present my own work for once.” 

He grimaced, “I didn’t want the whole story-”

“I know they weren’t my friends at the end of the day, that they were just using me, but they were everything to me. I had no one else and they twisted everything until I was just stuck there. And by the time I finally gained enough courage to actually present in front of people, they kill me!”

“This wasn’t supposed to be a therapy session,” He muttered, but didn’t fully interrupt, a part of him was curious.

His voice was crackling as she seethed, “They just came up behind me and smashed my head through a monitor without a second fucking thought!”  

That got his attention, “Fucking hell.”

“I know! I used to do custom orders on the side, I love messing around with things and making them into something else, so I had a order to turn a big older tv set up into- fuck, I don’t even remeber anymore. And they just,” She pantomimed grabbing and roughly shoving, “just, straight through the screen. I was running it to see how it handled the juice, it was a whole shit-show, honestly, it took a minute before I actually…And I tried to get my head out, but yeah. So gloves.”

He slowly nodded as he let out a whistle, “That’s fucked.” 

“Yeah,” She wasn’t really surprised by his reaction, if anything, she was stunned that she just spilled her guts like that. 

Tapping his fingers against the bed as he ran through the options in his head, he kept his eyes off of her. “I… My way was different.”

She perked up at that, but didn’t say anything. 

“I owed some bastards some money and they got tired of waiting and yeah. Fucked me up, a whole damn group of them. Blah, blah, blah, I died. One just had to stomp on my throat, though, motherfucker. But I think the raspiness adds to my appeal, though, right?”

“... That’s how you died?” 

He clicked his tongue, not exactly happy she didn’t take the chance to change the topic, “Yeah I know, a fucked up way for such an amazing person, huh?” He sighed, “Should've been something cooler, like at a party doing a sick trick or during an orgy or something.”

“Y… that was the truth?” She was shocked, honestly, having not expected him to actually give her a straight answer. “That's how you died, like, for real?”

He frowned, “Yes, why the fuck are you so surprised for?” 

“I-I don’t know, you don’t act like it.”

He raised a brow, “How the fuck am I supposed to act, was I supposed to become a shut in like you?”

She flinched at that, “Ouch.” 

“You really expect me to pull my fucking punches now? I’m not you.”

“I don’t-”

“Every single damn time, sure it hurts, but I know the difference between a fucker wanting to kill me and someone just letting off steam,” He scowled at that, not liking just how much he was revealing about himself. 

“Well, I don’t want to kill you, I just say that I do,” She awkwardly mumbled. 

“I’ve noticed,” He looked her over, not getting distracted by her being naked for once. “How the hell did such a nice person end up in hell, anyways?”

“... Is identity theft a sin?”

“What?”

“I mean, I did a lot of identity theft.”

He started laughing, getting louder, “Y-You- That's the worst thing you can think of? Identity theft? Just how much did you fucking do?”

“.... Probably too much,” She pouted. “I didn't have the money for my projects and I was behind on all my loan payments to the bank and I just- it was a lot! I probably wrecked so many people's lives just for my own selfish wants and that's why I'm here. I mean, I was gonna pay them back! I wrote down their names and everything in a little notebook.”

“You wrote down their fucking names so you could pay them back?”

“Yes! I fully intended on giving them their money back after I finally started making real money. But then I died and so… Does doing a crime I had the intention of making up for still send me to hell?”

“I think you’re putting too much thought into this.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t even wondered why you’re down here?”

“Not really? It’s kind of fucked if you're here for such a petty thing like that, though.”

“Then why do you think you're here, if my reason is so petty?”

He scoffed, “I ain't saying shit, die mad.”

“God, you’re terrible, after we just did all of that, this is the hill you’ll die on?” She wasn’t really upset, just amused, a light, humming chuckle coming from her.

“I want to be mysterious, can’t reveal everything about me so early, babe.”

“Oh yes, that’ll ruin what little appeal you have.”

“I have appeal! A fuck ton of it! Specifically sex appeal.”

She just hummed in response with another laugh.

“.... You wanna go again?”

“You mention the word sex once and it’s already invaded your perverted little head?”

“Yes,” He quickly confirmed, not even refuting what she said. 

“Your dick is the last thing on my damn mind, Sam.”

“Come on, babe, you know you want some of this,” He tossed off the blanket and grinned at her, fully thinking that she wouldn’t be able to resist his charms.

She wasn't expecting him to do that, so she was struggling to hold back a laugh, “I-I really think I'm good, honestly.”

“Nah, you want another ride on my halo holder, I can see it on your face. Well, what I can see of your face.”

“You–” Her head flickered, “Oh my god, you've actually put the halo around your dick, haven't you?”

“Of course I have, folks love it. Blasphemy is hot to sinners.”

“Do you play ring toss or something?”

“No, are you fucking crazy? The halo shrinks and grows,” He tugs on it, letting her see it widen. 

That got her and she could barely get words out through her laughter, “O-Oh my god, you use it for a cock ring. An angelic halo. That’s all kinds of fucked up, Sam.”

“Eh, I’m already in hell, what else can they do to me?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“And I can think of a few things I can do to you.”

“Awful.”

“You like it, babe, don’t lie.”

~~~ end