[ WP ] A person falls in love with the monster under their bed . The monster in their closet is none too pleased .

The dull heartbeat of the underground matched my own as I stared at my book, not really reading it, just using it as something to look at when I am not looking at the next station. Green Park, Piccadilly, then Leicester, I ’ d be home. The train starts to slow down, Green Park. Only two more to go, I look at my watch, still the same time as when I last looked. I look around the carriage, grey faces and grey suits, lifeless eyes staring into nothing. I look past the soul crushing boredom to see them, the monsters, and they are far more interesting. One great purple octopus creature lounges on the ceiling, every visible surface covered in eyes. Two small red children, bloated bellies and spindly arms are hiding beneath the chairs. I smile as a gigantic kaleidoscopic lion sprawled on the floor snores heavily with its luscious belly presented to the air, asking me to stroke it. As he breathes, a grey man ’ s newspaper flutters. 
 
 Piccadilly. 
 
 Just one more stop. I used to be afraid of them, when I was younger. That seems so foolish now, most of them are harmless, almost like children. The red goblins under the chairs have started taking it in turns to pull at the lion ’ s tail, then run back under the chairs. After one particularly vicious pull the lion jolts awake, his massive form shaking the whole train. The greys grasp the handles and lean against the movement, oblivious to its origin. 
 
 Leicester Square, mine. 
 
 I stand in front of the doors, press the button. The doors open, coincidence. I step off and make my way up the platform, up the stairs. My footsteps match my heart as I rush towards the barriers, as close to running as walking will allow. 
 
 Up a street, down an alley, I ignore an old man being eaten by crimson locusts, they have been eating him for days. Open door, up stairs. Open door, and I am home. 
 
 I breathe a sigh of relief, and look around my apartment. Three rooms, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, no floor space, but it was home. It was mine. I throw my book on the singular counter and flump down onto the bed. That should wake him. I have to wait only a few seconds until I see seven long green fingers grip the edge of the bed, they haul up a long thin arm followed by an almost skeletal body, green skin tight across the bones like a drum. The face above is eerily human, but for the lack of eyes. I ’ m not looking at his eyes, I ’ m looking at his mouth, the warm smile of a friend, my only friend. 
 
 He drags himself closer, revealing his lower half, or lack thereof. His long fingers stroke my face, remembering who I am, and his smile grows once more. I hold his hand as it tries to retreat, and kiss each fingertip in turn, my lips lingering on the last. With that he moves as quick as lightning, closing the gap between his lips and mine. His fingers in my hair, his body pressed against mine. I return the favour, my tongue slips against his, my teeth clash against his. Too excited, too rushed. We laugh, I hate my laugh but his is like velvet. WE kiss again, slower this time, on my part it is to savour the moment, on his part it is because he is concentrating with his other hand behind my back, seven fingers does not make a bra strap easier. Finally he is victorious and he stops kissing my mouth, he plants one on my neck. He kisses a little lower. A little lower. A button of my shirt needs removing. Another kiss. Another button. Another kiss. Another button. Kiss, button, kiss, button, kiss. One more button, he darts his tongue into it and I laugh, he knows that I will but he does it every single time. His seven fingers roll their way up my back, tangling my blouse in my arms above my head, I close my eyes as a wave of warmth rises through me. 
 
 A screech echoes in my ears, I open my eyes and am confronted by a half naked woman with eagle ’ s wings and beak ripping my love from me. She had burst from the cupboard and had now grabbed Buddy by the shoulders and smashed him against the wall. Once, twice. He managed to grasp her throat with one of his hands and started to crush. Panic entered her eyes as she squawked, clawing at where Buddy ’ s own eyes should be. She bit at his wrist with her razor sharp beak but it was too late, she was too weak. They both fell on the bed beside me in a flurry of feathers and blows. 
 
 A deafening crack signalled the end of the show. The harpy lay quite lifeless on the bed. Buddy cracked his own neck, rolled his shoulder and gave me his wonderful grin. 
 
 I went to him, freeing my arms from my grey suit and we entangled ourselves in each other, caring not a whit for the corpse we shared a bed with. We were monsters after all. 

