Enerjeka addict!! (No, I'm not a Human)

A small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling barely illuminated the room, which smelled of dampness and the fear of the outside world. The foreigner sat on an old chair, his shoulder pressed against the cold wall. The threads on his lips had been roughly removed, leaving raw, bleeding wounds, but he had already become accustomed to this pain—far more frightening was the unknown outside the window, where those very same "Guests" wandered in the darkness, posing as humans.

The door swung open with a bang, letting in a whirlwind of frantic energy.

"Oh, hi-hi! Listen, why are you sitting here in the dark? What if it was a Guest? Wait, what the hell kind of Guest are you? Your face is... wow! Did you cut them yourself? Wow, you're such a daredevil! And there are no pharmacies anyway, so it'll heal on its own, right?" Enerzheka blurted out, instantly dominating the surrounding space.

His pink curls were disheveled, his long scarf swung from side to side, and he, his large, expressive eyes blinking, literally circled the guest like a top: sometimes looking him straight in the face, sometimes jumping away, all the while smiling with a kind of wild, ringing tenderness mingled with genuine delight. Something within him had already leaped and fallen irrevocably in love with this silent silhouette.

The foreigner only slowly raised his heavy yellow gaze to him. He understood every word perfectly, but his own tongue, unused to sound and damaged by the wound, felt like an unwieldy stone.

“M-mf... h-hmph...” he muttered dully and indistinctly, watching with surprise and slight bewilderment every sharp movement of this abnormal boy, who was not afraid of him at all.