The winter in New York had deepened; the temperature dipping each passing day. It was bound to be a lively Christmas this year. The Christmas decorations were already lined up on the streets, and the merchandise in the windows of shops shone with renewed beauty.
After the first heavy snowfall, the festive atmosphere thickened, and Christmas melodies echoed everywhere.
At the end of the snow-covered street, a man wearing a coat and scarf crouched beside a lamppost.
He looked distressed, struggling to breathe, saliva and mucus fluidly mixed together, streaming from his nose and mouth, turning into tiny crystals of ice before they could be wiped away.
But no one paid him any mind. This type of individual was far too common in this neighborhood close to Hell's Kitchen. The area didn't exactly attract reputable figures; a junkie having a sudden fit by the roadside was hardly noteworthy.
He wore no gloves, and so shoved his bare hands into his coat sleeves. He sniffled, shivering. He appeared both chilled and in the throes of severe withdrawal.
He squatted by the lamppost for some time, perhaps beginning to feel better as he soon turned to glance at a nearby shop window, just as a hand extended towards him with a half-smoked cigarette pinched between its fingers.
The man crouched by the lamppost received the half-smoked cigarette eagerly, like a man clinging to a lifeline, and put it into his mouth.
As he reached out to take the cigarette, he rotated his body to the side. The standing figure caught a clear view of his face and gasped aloud:
"Shiller???"
Eddie quickly rushed over and realized that the man having a fit by the lamppost really was Shiller.
Seeing Shiller's shivering form, Eddie quickly stripped off his own coat intending to drape it over him but hesitated upon seeing the dust it carried.
After taking a few steps back and looking at the sky, Eddie decided to drape his coat over Shiller anyway. He was surprised when Shiller allowed him to do so without any resistance.
Shiller's attention was entirely focused on the remaining cigarette. Despite his trembling making it difficult to place the cigarette accurately into his mouth, he made his best effort, seemingly oblivious to the cigarette burning dangerously close to his frostbitten fingers.
Eddie quickly reached out, grabbed Shiller's wrist and shook the cigarette from his hand. Trying to maintain his composure, Eddie finally managed to speak, "Doctor Shiller, what's wrong? Are you sick? Should I call an ambulance for you?"
Shiller immediately shook his head. He blinked laboriously, refocusing his attention onto the discarded cigarette. Eddie followed his gaze, but by this time, Shiller was already reaching out for it.
Eddie quickly stopped him, fumbling to pull out a pack of cigarettes from his own coat pocket. He gave one to Shiller, then attempted to light it for him.
However, Shiller's hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even hold onto it, let alone shield the flame. Eddie took a puff himself to get a fire going, then hesitantly passed the lit cigarette to Shiller.
Eddie knew that the doctor had serious issues with hygiene; he would never take a cigarette smoked by someone else, nor would he take one from a pack held by another person. Moreover, he hardly used a lighter, choosing to only use matches.
However, Shiller discarded his usual demeanor. Like a true street junkie, he hastily jammed the cigarette into his mouth. After taking a puff, he held his breath for a bit before exhaling the smoke.
His hand trembled as it held the cigarette; his inhalation and exhalation of smoke were so careful it seemed like losing even a single bit of nicotine was a waste.
Eddie crouched down in front of him, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed. He moved closer to Shiller's face, his gaze focused on his eyes as he sternly asked, "What's wrong, Doctor?"
"I'm not a doctor..." Shiller's voice was so hoarse it startled Eddie. He no longer had the same smooth and soothing tone when he counseled patients; he now sounded as rough as a homeless man's cough when seeking refuge in a cardboard box on a bitter, windy night.
Suddenly, Eddie shivered as Venom spread throughout his body; Venom's fanged mouth loomed directly in front of Shiller's nose. The Venom's hoarse voice echoed:
"Look ... who is this? A doctor? No, no, no, a patient... a seriously ill patient... I can feel it... "
At the sound of Venom's deep voice, Shiller thought of someone. So, Shiller clutched his quivering hand, removing the cigarette from his mouth to exhale his final puff of smoke. He profoundly pressed the burning cigarette on Venom's eye.
"Ahhh!!!!!!"
With a shrieking scream, Venom retreated, leaving Eddie's body at once.
Eddie stood still, rubbing his eyes, shaking his head. Shiller, who was still on the ground, looked up and asked him: "...Got any more cigarettes?"
"Yes, but you can't smoke here." Eddie bent down and helped Shiller stand, "Let me take you back to the clinic, doctor. They have everything you need... "
With labored breaths, Shiller looked foggy. The frosted air around him caused a misty film to cover his glasses. He removed his glasses and responded, "No, I'm not going back. I don't want to go anywhere..."
Eddie looked at Shiller up and down, realizing something was amiss but said, "Alright. How about my place then? It's at least warmer than here, and I've got cigarettes…"
Shiller didn't object. Eddie supported him as they walked to a nearby residential building a short distance from the neighborhood.
Upon reaching the third floor, Eddie opened the door to his apartment at the end of the hall. One arm supporting Shiller, the other opening the door, Eddie helped him inside.
Shiller had barely arrived when he slumped on the couch in the living room, unceremoniously. Eddie relit a cigarette for him, his gaze then falling on Shiller's dampened coat, soaked at the edges by the snow.
Eddie picked up his own coat and tossed it into a nearby laundry basket, then said to Shiller, "Doctor, take off your coat. I'll give it a wash... hang on, your coat isn't dry-clean only, is it?"
Shiller just focused on smoking, paying Eddie no mind. Sighing, Eddie walked over, and like handling a stiff puppet, he stripped Shiller's coat off him and threw it into the laundry basket.
Seeing that Shiller was somewhat stable, Eddie gathered the laundry basket and went over to the washing machine on the balcony.
He picked up his jacket first, checked the pockets, and tossed it into the washing machine. He then picked up Shiller's coat. As he absent-mindedly reached into the pockets, he realized his actions might be perceived as impolite.
However, his searching hands did feel something in the pocket. He pinched the strange-feeling object and withdrew his hand to take a closer look.
It was a very neatly folded, wrinkle-free, alternating golden red candy wrapper.