Why do I get stuck babysitting?

Over the week they had come to understand each other a little better. That first Saturday had been spent with Aiden pulling his clothes out of the kitchen area and putting them into an overflowing hamper. Koi had looked on with mild disgust. Saturday night, Aiden had shown Koi where the local homeless people hung out, in case the vampire got hungry and didn’t want to go very far.

After they had returned, Aiden had sat down to work on his story. Koi sat on the bed, not caring to think about what the funny dip in the middle had been caused by. A scratching noise caught his attention. He leaned over the edge of the bed and looked down, hoping not to find a cockroach. Instead, a mouse skittered out into the open, watching the occupants for a few moments. Koi pulled out his pocket knife and advanced on the mouse only to have it run off in the direction of Aiden at the computer. The mouse climbed up onto the desk and sat. Aiden wasn’t fazed. Instead, he looked at his new companion and smiled.

“Oh. Hello, Kiema. Here for your nightly drink?” Aiden began reaching for a bottle nearby. Koi stared in shock, arm and knife falling to his side. He watched as his host poured some alcoholic beverage into a small, one-ounce shot glass and scooted it toward the mouse. Said mouse, Kiema, sat up and plunged his face into the glass.

Koi’s eyes widened. “Mouse! There’s a mouse!”

“Yeah,” Aiden nodded and typed a few words on the screen. “That’s Kiema. He comes around every night for a drink.”

The mouse pulled his face out of the shot glass and shook his face to rid himself of the excess droplets of moisture. It wobbled in place for a moment before falling straight off the edge of the desk. Aiden just gently righted him with his foot. Kiema the Mouse twitched and scampered off toward the bed again with a definite sway in his walk. Koi looked back to Aiden, only to find the author drinking a quick shot from the same glass the mouse had used.

“That’s unsanitary!”

“It’s good,” Aiden replied.

“What did you give that mouse?”

“Tequila, I think. I tend to recycle bottles sometimes and move booze around.”

Koi stared at Aiden. “Didn’t you just drink some?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I paid attention to what it was.”

Koi rolled his eyes before taking the shot glass and sniffing it carefully. “Yes, it was tequila.”

Aiden nodded his understanding before staring idly at the computer screen again. Koi glanced back at the bed. Then he looked at Aiden again.

“He lives under the bed?”

“Yep.”

“In the wall?”

“Nope. I think he took up residence in an old pair of gym shorts.”

“That’s disgusting, Aiden. Haven’t you ever heard of housekeeping?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘getting-a-life’?”

“I have a life. My housekeeper takes care of that stuff for me so that I can have a life.”

“Pfft. Rich snob.”

“Starving author.”

“Blood sucker.”

“Insecure momma’s boy.”

Aiden tensed and glared harshly at Koi. Koi observed this behavior and filed it away for later analysis…. by a professional psychologist. He knew the numbers for a few by association. Kiema had introduced him to them.

“Kiema’s lapdog,” Aiden had recovered from his momentary shock and managed to get right back into the abuse.

“Look who’s talking! You’re the one doing him favors all the time! Kiema tells me about you and the jobs he gets you to do.”

Aiden glowered. “He saved my life. I owe him.”

“Must’ve been some save. The way I’ve heard is that you’ve repaid him on that premise at least twenty times.”

Aiden turned off the light and declared the conversation over.

By Wednesday, Koi had come to understand a couple of things about his temporary roommate. Number one being that the man was a complete and total alcoholic psychopath. Number two, the mouse could drink the real Kiema under the table any day of the week at any hour. Number three, Aiden didn’t appear to know that he had a dead houseplant inhabiting his bookshelf behind the alcohol bottles. As a sort of polite thank you, and to dispose of the eyesore, Koi managed to walk to a nearby exotic plant shop and buy a rather pricy bonsai tree. He was quite pleased with himself until he returned late Wednesday night after feeding to find Aiden drunk and caring for his new plant.

“What are you doing?”

“Watering th’ plant. Whas’ it look like?”

“What do you have in your hand?”

Aiden looked down. “Some Russian bottled water… Vod… Vod-kahhhh.”

Koi blanched and resisted the urge to take the bottle and beat the author. Reason would win out in the end, he figured. He didn’t expect Aiden to return to the plant and continue watering it with the vodka.

“Aaaaargh!” Koi yelled and tackled Aiden to the floor, only to discover that the man could keep a tight grip on his booze.

Thursday morning saw the plant moving next door to Aiden’s rather gay neighbors. Koi took it over there in the hopes that they would at least know what water was. They took it gratefully and eyed him hungrily. He edged away from them, telling them that his… cousin, yes, his cousin was expecting him back. He bolted. That night, Aiden stared mournfully at where his new friend, Mortimer, had gotten to.

“Who’s Mortimer?”

“Th’ plant! ‘Member? There was a plant in here,” Aiden slurred in confusion.

“Mortimer took a vacation, Aiden. Okay?” Koi smiled, hoping to placate Aiden and avoid any potential violence. He should really look into getting those psychologist numbers.

Out of sheer curiosity, Koi commandeered Aiden’s computer when the author was sleeping off his drunkenness. He managed to hack into the Immortal Database, searching for good psychologists who might owe him a favor or two. In his searching, he came across a medical journal called Aiden Grey. Raising an eyebrow, he opened the file. What he read there made him think that Aiden really needed to be locked away or put out of his misery. While the journal didn’t discuss the reasons for Aiden’s actions, depression, and ensuing alcoholism, it did provide a detailed account of what Aiden did at therapy sessions. Apparently, the most memorable, was when Aiden had gone through an identity crisis and tried to eat the therapist.

Koi looked over at the lightly snoring author and wondered what kind of danger was this guy? (What did Kiema get me into? And where in the world did he find this guy?) Aiden rolled over, muttering something about how Kiema had eaten the last of the Cheeze-Nips and drank all his tequila. Koi contemplated writing a note for help, not for Aiden, but for himself. He wanted out.

Thursday night, Koi realized that he hadn’t seen Aiden eat anything all week aside from chewing on what looked like a rock. Aiden now sat at his computer, munching on said rock. Koi decided to ask the author what he ate.

“What are you eating?”

“’Sa cookie.”

“No, that’s a rock.”

“Nope. ‘Sa cookie,” Aiden held it out to Koi. Koi took it. It felt like a rock. He smelled it. It smelt like a rock. He tapped it on the desk. No crumbs fell from the supposed cookie.

“No. This is a rock.”

Aiden’s phone chirped an alarm. Aiden turned it off and walked out of the flat. Koi followed him, wondering what strange new ritual he’d see today. He could record Aiden’s habits and sell them to that medical journal for a lot of money. Aiden hadn’t been to see any of the therapists in at least twenty years. There was still an ongoing forum about when they could expect him back and whether anyone had managed to find him yet. Apparently, Aiden had escaped the ward they’d put him in. Koi strongly suspected Kiema’s help in that one.

Koi watched as Aiden knocked on a door a few down from his own. The door opened, and Aiden disappeared for a moment. He returned carrying a plate of what looked like more rocks. But, he had a smile on his face. He walked into the flat without even sparing Koi a glance.

“What’s that?” Koi asked, worrying.

“Cookies.”

“No. Those are rocks, I tell you!”

“Well, whatever. Call ‘em what you will, but this is dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, if you want to be specific, this is my weekly meal.”

Koi really wanted to hit something, preferably the idiot in front of him. Aiden didn’t notice Koi’s reaction, instead choosing to pick up one of the rock cookies and suck on it. Eventually, he got tired of that and dipped it into a glass of suspicious brown liquid.

“Chocolate milk?” Koi asked, dreading the response.

“Nope. I don’t have anything in the fridge. This is water… It’s sort of scary. Maybe I should try something clear,” Aiden reached for the Vodka bottle, the same one he’d used to water the plant. Koi stopped him and dragged him out of the flat.

“Come on.”

“No! Where are we going?”

“Grocery shopping.”

“Are you crazy? I can’t afford that!” Aiden protested, trying to get back into his home.

“I’ll pay for it then. You need real food.”

“Cookies are real!”

“True, but those aren’t cookies. And even if they were, you need meat, vegetables, fruit, milk, etc.”

Aiden made a face at the mention of vegetables. “Yuck.”

“You’re going to eat properly, dammit, if I have to force it down your throat.”

And force it down Aiden’s throat he did. Aiden refused to touch anything remotely green and healthy. Koi had to hide the booze from him and suspend Kiema from the ceiling fan to get Aiden to even look at the vegetables. To get Aiden to eat them, however, he’d had to do the mature thing and pinch the man’s nose. Like a child, Aiden gasped for breath and found himself with a mouthful of spinach. He spat it back out. It hit Koi in the face. Koi didn’t get angry. He just wiped it off his face before tackling Aiden to the floor and shoving another mouthful into his face. He held Aiden’s mouth shut until the man swallowed the vegetable.