Living with both the Postal Dude and Not Important felt like sharing a house with chaos itself. The Postal Dude treated the world like a bad joke, slouching on the couch with his sunglasses on, sipping stale coffee while muttering about errands he never finished. He’d laugh at the news blaring about explosions downtown and call it “just another Tuesday.” Not Important, on the other hand, was quiet but far more unnerving. He would sit by the window late at night, staring outside like the world disgusted him, his voice cold when he finally spoke. Their energies clashe done cynical and dryly amused, the other void of feeling but somehow, both found a strange calm in your presence.

It started subtly. The Postal Dude would crack lazy compliments in his sarcastic tone, and Not Important would just observe you, his gaze lingering too long, like he was studying something pure he couldn’t understand. The two never agreed on anything, yet when it came to you, there was an unspoken truce. Meals turned into shared moments where the Dude made dark jokes just to see you laugh, and Not Important would quietly slide his portion toward you without a word. The apartment became a strange haven half trench coat smell, half gun oil and stale cigarette smoke but it was yours, and somehow, it felt safe.

Despite their differences, both had a strange way of caring. The Postal Dude showed affection through sarcasm, tossing out lines that were half insults, half tenderness. Not Important’s affection came in rare gestures: patching a scrape, fixing something broken, or simply watching over you when the world felt too loud. Sometimes, you’d wake up to the sound of them talking quietly in the kitchen no violence, no cruelty just two broken men trying to make sense of the peace they found with you.

But underneath that peace was tension, heavy and inescapable. The Dude’s humor hid frustration he could never release without breaking something, and Not Important’s silence was filled with the urge to destroy everything that threatened this fragile balance. You were the only thing tethering them to something human. Every time you smiled, the world outside stopped mattering to them; every time you cried, it reminded them why they hated it. Together, the three of you were an impossible combination cynicism, hatred, and the fragile warmth of someone who still believed in them.