Chapter Text
All my nightmares escaped my head
Bar the door, please don't let them in
You were never supposed to leave
Now my head's splitting at the seams
Snow was beginning to drive from the gray skies suffocating the sky. The weather had been turning gradually colder and colder as winter pressed on. It was nearly Christmas, which also meant the semester was winding down. Finals week was quickly approaching and the impending stress loomed over the young college student. It didn’t help that it was one of his last few years of college and the course work, mechanical engineering, had gotten progressively harder and more complex.
Not that any of that bothered him. He’d been building all sort of robots and improving farm machines for at least a decade. He was doing very well in his classes, but it didn’t change the fact that it was time consuming, and carving out time to study and complete projects in time for the end of the semester was easier said than done.
He technically should be studying now, but he’d been studying all day and he could at least recognize (unlike his roommate) the benefits of taking a break every now and then. What better way to do so then to get fresh air and call his family.
At least that had been his plan. Being a southern boy, he forgot how “fresh air” implied that the air outside was so cold that it hurt to breathe. Remind him why he decided to go to a school where the air hurt to breathe? Wrapping his jacket tighter around his thin shoulders, he continued along his way to where the phone booth stood, quietly stuck in between a nearby building and a mostly empty parking lot.
Opening the door, he let himself in and closed it, realizing sadly that it wasn’t any warmer inside the phone booth. Fishing through his pockets, he retrieved several coins and inserted them before dialing his home phone number. Lifting the phone to his ear (and trying not to think about all of the germs and bacteria living on the damn thing), he waited patiently as the phone beeped in his ear.
Finally, the beeping broke off as a warm voice greeted him through the phone with a thick southern accent, “Hello, McGucket residence?”
A smile tugged at the boys features as he recognized his mother’s voice. “Hi Ma!” he replied back with excitement.
“Fiddleford!” she all but shouted into his ear, earning a laugh from the man at the other end. “Honey, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you? Are you eating?”
Rolling his eyes playfully, Fiddleford laughed again, “Yes, Ma. I’m eatin’, I swear.”
“Good! You’re always so skinny; I don’t want ya wastin’ away!” His mother’s voice was warm, though Fiddleford knew his Ma well enough to tell she was worrying about him. She was always a fretful person, and that only magnified now that her son was hundreds of miles away on his own.
“I promise, Ma, I’m doin’ well. If anything, my roommate is the one who ain’t eatin’.” He laughed fondly before adding, “I guess I also got a protective mother streak in me; I’m always harping on him to eat more, or get some sleep.”
His mother laughed, “Oh, Fiddleford. You’ve always been such a sweet boy. I know I shouldn’t worry about you so, but it’s hard to not worry about your baby!”
Seeing a movement out of the corner of his eyes, Fiddleford turned to watch as a red El Diablo turned into the parking lot and parked a few spots down from the payphone.
“So, how’s your classes going, baby? Finals are comin’ up!” His mother’s voice interrupted him, turning his attention away from the car.
“They’re going well! My roommates been helping me with multivariate calculus. He’s not the best teacher since everything is so easy for him and he can’t seem to understand why I don’t get everything as quickly as he does, but he’s still been helpful.”
A noise not that far interrupted his thoughts as a car door opened. Seeing as this was a busy street, it didn’t seem odd to him so Fiddleford didn’t pay him any mind.
“That’s great, honey! You’re always such a smart cookie!”
She laughed at Fiddleford’s squak of protest.
“You know I’m so proud of my smart boy! Listen sweetie, when are you thinkin’ you can come home for Christmas?”
Fiddleford hummed in thought, briefly glancing at the car as a man emerged from the car. It was fairly dark out so he couldn’t see the man very well. He turned towards the payphone, and seeing that it was in use, strode to the front of his car and sat on the hood, lighting a cigarette that he pulled from a pack.
“Finals week is a week and a half away so probably that Friday after finals.” Fiddleford responded.
“Fantastic! And you’re still plannin’ to bring your roommate home as well, right?” his Ma asked pleasantly. Not for the first time, Fiddleford felt a swell of affection for his kind hearted mother. After explaining how vague his roommate had been about not looking forward to going home for the holidays, and talking about staying in their apartment for the holidays, his mother had offered to open their home to his roommate so he wouldn’t have to spend the holidays alone.
At first, his roommate had been hesitant. Fiddleford suspected it was because he was because he, bless his heart, wasn’t the best at social cues, or socialization for that matter. But at Fiddleford’s insistence (it also helped that he pointed out that the McGucket’s could talk to a dead person), he agreed to go.
“Yep! He’s still plannin’ on comin’! You’re gonna make your homemade apple pie still, right? I’m afraid I talked up a storm about it and he’s lookin’ forward to tryin’ it!” Fiddleford said with a laugh.
“Oh yes, sweetie,” his mom replied, chuckling, “You know I always do.”
Fiddleford grinned, “He’ll be excited to hear that.” After a brief moment, he signed and scratched the back of his neck, “Listen ma, I still got a lot of studying to do. It was great to hear your voice again, and I’ll see ya soon, ok?”
His mum’s voice sounded through the receiver, understanding but still a bit disappointed to have to get of the phone, “Of course, sweetie. You’ll do great! I’ll look forward to seeing ya soon. I love ya!”
Smiling fondly, Fiddleford replied, “I love ya too, Ma. Bye.” he said.
He heard his mother say bye as well before he hung up the phone on the hook. He opened the door to the payphone and as he raised his eyes, his gaze met the strangers, now rising from the hood of his car, flicking the cigarette butt into the growing pile of snow.
“Sorry for takin’ so long.” Fiddleford responded to him kindly. As the man approached, now under the light of the street lamp better, he noticed that the man’s coat couldn’t possibly couldn’t be warm enough to stave off the winter cold.
“No problem.” the man replied, voice gruff. A thin, trail of air coming from his mouth as he breathed. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a quarter, would ya? I wanted t’ call my ma, but I’m one quarter short.”
Fiddleford could obviously tell the man was not happy to have to ask for money from a stranger, and felt sympathy. The man just wanted to call his own mother, and how could Fiddleford deny the man that request. Nodding, he stuck his hands in his pocket and pulled out the rest of the change that he had before offering it to the man.
The man was closer now and as Fiddleford met his gaze, he gasped. The man looked just like his roommate. Or rather, he would if it weren’t for the long hair, scruffy five o’clock shadow, tired bags under his eyes (though Ford was probably sporting a pretty good pair right about now), or strange stains on his threadbare jacket. The man seemed to notice his scrutinizing gaze and appeared to shrink, as if wanting to make himself smaller. Feeling another wave of sympathy, Fiddleford offered a kind smile to the man as he added his coins to the man’s own pair.
“Say, you must be from down south, huh?” He asked. The stranger opened his mouth to reply with a look of confusion before Fiddleford cut him off, “I know how it is. I’m not used to this cold weather either. I happen to have a spare winter coat; how’d ya like to take that off my hands for me?”
The man’s face looked puzzled before he nodded, as if he was hesitating. It was if he didn’t want to take him up on his offer, but his body was too cold and forced him to agree. Fiddleford grinned.
“Thank you! You’re really doin’ me a huge favor!”
The man was starting to ease, much to Fiddleford’s joy.
“I- uh- I really appreciate that, but I really gotta call my Ma before it gets too late. I’m late enough as it is, and if I don’t call her tonight, she’s gonna talk my ear off.” The man said, shuffling his feet.
Fiddleford nodded, “Of course, of course! I gotta get back to studying but I tell ya what, why don’t ya come back here tomorrow afternoon. I can get that coat for ya, and there’s a nice coffee shop a block or two down that has a new drink I’ve been wantin’ to try out.”
The man’s eyes darted away, hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could respond, Fiddleford cut in, “And before ya object, ya know how that southern hospitality is. My own ma will have my head if she ever finds out I don’t welcome a newcomer to the town, near Christmas nonetheless.”
The guy appeared a bit overwhelmed and for a brief moment, Fiddleford wondered if he was over doing it. But how could he not? The man obviously looked like he could use a kind gesture of two, and seeing as he looked so much like his roommate, Fiddleford felt the need to be a bit extra generous to this man.
Slowly, he nodded, “Ok… yeah. Coffee sounds nice.” Ever so slightly, his mouth curved into a hopeful smile. Fiddleford grinned.
“Great. I’ll see ya tomorrow at noon then! Enjoy your phone call with your Ma!” Fiddleford said, turning to head back to his apartment and raising a hand to wave bye to the man. The man waved back, almost hesitantly.
“See ya then!” he called back.
Fiddleford turned fully now, hurrying back to his apartment to get out of the cold, a small smile on his mouth. He could hear the door to the payphone opening as the man let himself inside, and again a few moments later as the door closed. Following the path back to the apartment, Fiddleford noticed that in the short time he had used the payphone, snow had covered the path in a thin layer. His footsteps crunched ever so softly as he climbed the steps leading to his apartments front door before letting himself in. Following down the hallway that led to his tiny apartment, he took his keys out to let himself in.
Unsurprisingly, he found his roommate still at the desk, hunched over as his eyes darted across the textbook he was reading.
“Howdy, Stanford!” he greeted his roommate, who was so wrapped up in his readings that he didn’t hear his roommate. Rolling his eyes with a playful smile, Fiddleford approached his roommate, and leaned his head down to be about level with Ford’s head. He let out a yell which was soon joined by his roommates own shocked yell.
Spinning around to look at Fiddleford with wide, frightened eyes, Fiddleford burst into laughter. His roommate didn’t seem nearly as pleased, not that Fiddleford was all that surprised.
“Ya know, Stanford, I could have been a burglar or a murderer or somethin’ and you wouldn’t have even noticed.”
Ford rolled his eyes, leaning his arm across the back of his chair. “I would have noticed! They would have had to break the door down.”
Fiddleford laughed, “Yeah, somehow I’m not confident that you’d notice that.” This earned a stubborn glare from his roommate.
Playfully grinning back, Fiddleford returned to his desk where his book had been left open for him.
“Anyway, how was your ma?” His roommate asked, turning back to his own book.
Grinning, Fiddleford responded, “She’s good. She’s really excited t’ meet ya! Oh! And I met a guy that looks a bit like ya if ya had long hair.”
“Hmmmm…. I’m inspired. Maybe I’ll grow out my hair. Think that’ll look good on me.” Ford teased, carding his six fingered hand through his wild, mouse-brown hair.
Cocking an eyebrow at him, Fiddleford chuckled curtly, “Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’d suit you.” He paused for a few minutes, deciding to mention his plans for the next day. It wasn’t like he thought the man would do something, but just in case, at least Ford would know where he was, “I’m gettin’ coffee with the guy tomorrow. I dunno what his deal is, but he looks like he doesn’t have much, so I figure a cup of coffee and my old winter coat will help ‘im out a bit.”
By this point, Ford seemed to be wrapped up in his textbook. For a moment, Fiddleford thought he hadn’t heard him and was about to repeat himself when Ford replied, “Just be careful, alright? He’s probably not well off for a reason.”
Pressing his lips together to keep himself from retorting something back, Fiddleford merely hummed. He didn’t agree with Ford’s sentiment, but he knew they were both too tired with too much studying to do to engage in an argument. He was finding it hard to concentrate on his classwork with that man in his thoughts. He was probably done or wrapping up the phone call with his mother. He hoped it went well; if his ma was anything like Fiddlefords, it’s always good to have one person like that in your corner. It soothed Fiddleford to think that the stranger wasn’t entirely alone. He might not have any clue about this man’s life, but it wasn’t hard to deduce that if he was on his own, or, god forbid, living out of his car, he most likely didn’t have many friends or acquaintances.
Fiddleford could only hope that the man wasn’t just passing through. If he was planning on staying for a while, Fiddleford wouldn’t mind getting to know the man. He wanted to know more about this mysterious drifter who he could see had a kind, if not worn heart. The following afternoon could not come fast enough.
With this thought in mind, he marked his place on the book and told Ford that he was taking a shower and heading to bed, and that he should think about doing the same. Ford didn’t respond, too wrapped up in his studying, not that Fiddleford actually expected an answer. He’d come out again after his shower to remind him.
As he climbed into bed several minutes later, it didn’t take long for the exhaustion to catch up to him, and within moments, he was deep in sleep.