#my mom is sick of me wailing about them. nearly collapsed at work when i remembered 'yes... and team-mate' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlightwinterdxxix · 4 years

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Awkward brotherly babysitting or pet sitting with Ichimatsu and Choromatsu for the Bits of my Brothers? (And can I say that I'm LOVING your works so far??? The Ventriloquist Vengeance is a story I never knew I needed ajsdlkasf)

Ahhh! Thank so much for the kind words! It means so much to me and I’m glad you’re enjoying it!

This is honestly the first time I’m writing a request, and I hope you like what I’ve managed to make. So without further ado, Nenchuu up the bat!! 💚💜☺️😒

~~~

When Choromatsu lifted the dirty diaper off his face, his eyes went wide. Any horror he would’ve felt beforehand was now a tidal wave of utmost defeat, and he wanted to collapse and freak out and tear each and every strand of hair off his head. But he held back from the sensation, and gulped instead, tossing the diaper to the ground.

The kitten tilted its head at him.

This was a sign, and a bad one. One worse than Osomatsu humiliating him in front of Nyaa-chan, one worse than being identified fapping when he was certain he was alone, one worse than dyeing his hair brown and having everyone see him. No, it was worse than all of that—so much worse. And if anything was worse than that, it was being dead and in heaven, but being discovered having man-woman privacy with one of the guardian angels. Lucifer wasn’t going to be alone there in hell anymore.

No. This dilemma of Choromatsu Matsuno wasn’t that he had a baby’s diaper that spoke and stunk of turd on his face—it was that there was a kitten in front of him. And where cats were involved, so was Ichimatsu.

Putting one-plus-one together, that meant Ichimatsu was home.

And the reason that Choromatsu even had a baby with him was because he was as sure as hell that he was spending his day at home, on his own.

And as if heaven already hated him and his luck couldn’t get any worse, the baby started crying.

Loudly, like a marching band that had been constructed out of chaos. It flailed its small arms so energetically that Jyushimatsu was given competition. It’s wails were higher than Choromatsu’s voice went when he was at an idol concert. The baby cried like its little life depended on it, but as Choromatsu stood there dumbfounded, he couldn’t blame it. He wanted to wail if it meant his life would be saved too.

Choromatsu flinched so hard that every hair in his body stood. He quickly scrambled towards the baby on the couch and cradled it in his arms, trying to calm it down as best as he could before the devil incarnate himself arrived in the room. But with how fruitless his efforts were, and how much louder the baby was becoming, he was only going to be met with failure. He wanted to accompany the baby in its crying, but knowing that it was Ichimatsu that was going to discover the unfortunate corner he had dragged himself towards, he fought for composure.

He continued to sway the baby with a little lullaby that was off-key. It made the baby cry even more.

Then came Ichimatsu’s footsteps. Choromatsu waited for the comment that would run him to the ground, but it never came. A minute or so passed, but it never came. So in his own curiosity and dread, he urged himself to spin his head to the direction of the door, meeting his eyes with Ichimatsu’s.

Ichimatsu merely regarded him with blank eyes, but his lips told a different emotion. And upon meeting CHoromatsu’s gaze, he quickly turned his heels to go.

Oh no, he didn’t.

“Oi! Ichimatsu!” Choromatsu yelled, and cared less if that worsened the baby’s status. To his relief though, Ichimatsu stopped from what might’ve been his beginning trek to the opposite side of their house. “You think you’re getting off free there? Get back here and take the kitten back outside! It’ll disturb the peace of our home.” Oh, as if the baby wasn’t. It was a completely stupid thing to say, especially from someone like him. It was humiliating in a lot of senses, but he had no other option but to accept it.

Dang, Choromatsu just found himself more and more pathetic as the day dragged on.

Ichimatsu’s face reverted to its normal, lackadaisical state. “Are you really the person who has the authority to say that?” he curtly asked.

Cheeks burning, Choromatsu growled, accepting Ichimatsu’s dominance in the situation. “Fine. Do I owe you an explanation if it means you wouldn’t tell the others?”

The baby was still crying. Ichimatsu eyed in silently and nonchalantly before re-entering the room, grabbing the kitten by its black-and-white belly and bringing it to his lap as he sat on the far, opposite side of the sofa. He began to rub his little pet behind its ears, but he was once more focused on Choromatsu in a sense that made Choromatsu curse himself, yet again.

“Go,” Ichimatsu said.

Such bluntness, and it made Choromatsu sick. Of all brothers to be stuck with, it just had to be Ichimatsu. Ichimatsu, who had proved himself as both the darkest man alive and above all, the most awkward companion Choromatsu could ask for. What kind of boundaries would they find themselves sharing this time, huh? What would the record be of how long their silence between conversation would be this time, huh? How long until the rest of the others came home, huh?

Well, he supposed having one was better than five. So for the time being, maybe Ichimatsu wouldn’t be so bad after all. He was quiet, reserved, and he reflected the awkwardness of Choromatsu at a level that was bearable. Plus, he wouldn’t tell the others about this...Would he?

Ichimatsu’s face gave no promises, but no denial either.

Perhaps this was one of those moments when Choromatsu needed to trust his gut.

As a way to begin the explanation, Choromatsu sighed. “Nyaa-chan. I was watching television, and she mentioned in an interview that she liked it when guys were nice to babies. I dunno if it was her speaking or for the sake of her image, but I believed her either way. At first I didn’t care about it, but then I heard crying outside our house. And surprise-surprise, there was a baby on the road, without parents, without anyone or anything. So thinking it was by a miracle of fate that it was from some game-show of some sort where they’re testing the reflexes of the people, I took it in. I didn’t think you’d come home so soon, so I thought I would be spared at least five ‘you’re pathetic’ teases from any of you.”

Ichimatsu snorted without smiling. “You’re pathetic.”

Yes, there it was. It was oddly satisfying as it was painful. “Thank you.” He collapsed at the opposite side of the couch from Ichimatsu, still trying to rock the baby in his arms, and still finding success far, far away from his reach. He tried to rub his index finger in a circle against its stomach, yet nothing changed, as he expected. He sighed. “Ichimatsu, can you do me a favor and get some milk?”

“Hm? For the baby or for the cat?”

“For the baby, of course!” Choromatsu snapped. “Cod, it’s common sense, Darkmatsu!”

“Ah, but this cat is also a baby,” Ichimatsu stated, moving from the ears to the underside of the kitten’s chin. The kitten leaned in to the touch, emitting a small purr that slightly decreased the anxiety in Choromatsu’s heart. Slightly. “The little one would like some milk too, since it's to make his little bones stronger,” Ichimatsu continued, solace evident in him as he petted the small creature. “They say cats have nine lives, but they might as well have one when they’re still this tiny. The world can swallow them whole.”

Letting the words sink in, Choromatsu glanced down at the cat. When he wasn’t seeing it with an image of horror that represented Ichimatsu’s presence, it really was a cute, precious thing that was fragile when set next to the cruelty of the universe. It’s eyes were a wonderful shade of green, and its body was decorated with patches of black that somehow managed to still look clean. But what Choromatsu liked about it most was the heart-shaped piece of black by its neck, so close to where its heart was, beating underneath its pillowy fur.

Translation into reality. Choromatsu was almost touched. Almost.

“Fine, here’s a deal,” Choromatsu stated, extending a fist to the direction of his brother—it wasn’t easy with the squirming mini-human still on his thighs. “Rock-paper-scissors to determine who’s getting the milk.”

“Eh? That childish game?” Ichimatsu huffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s a very idiot eldest-type suggestion, Chorofappyski.”

“It’s fair play,” Choromatsu argued, more from defensiveness than the truth in his phrase. “Just one go.”

Ichimatsu let the cat curl in his lap for a second, then rubbed its furry back so gently that it reminded Choromatsu that Ichimatsu had the ability at all to be gentle. As Ichimatsu brushed it a bit more, his cheeks rosed a little, barely there, but Choromatsu’s eyes were clear enough to notice it. It faded quickly after as Ichimatsu said, “Whatever. One go.”

Ichimatsu extended his own fist, and waved it twice before ending it with two fingers forming scissors.

Choromatsu’s hand was flat as paper.

Ichimatsu leaned back. “Get the milk.”

“Ugh, stupid luck.” Choromatsu lifted himself off the couch, laying the baby on his previous place. His heart nearly skyrocketed when the baby turned and nearly fell off the edge, but it was swift to redeem itself when it rolled over towards the backrest of the sofa. It was as if the weight of the entire world was lifted from his shoulders—his relief.

He tried not to discern the hint of a snicker at Ichimatsu’s side as he stormed out of the shared bedroom and entered the rest of their house, snagging the milk from the fridge with aggression that peaked to a million. Darn their position in the caste system, turning what could’ve been a normal man like him into a NEET...!

When he returned to the room just as grumpy and his attention on the milk, he was saying, “Hey, Ichimatsu, do you know if Mom and Dad have any spare baby bottles from when we were kids left somewhere?” He stopped at the doorway, the carton of milk stilling as he did. “Now, that’s a sight.”

Ichimatsu remained bland, but it was obvious by his lowered brows that his situation was getting to him. “Which one? The fact that the room is an absolute mess, or that your stupid baby is trying to chew off my ear?”

Actually, Choromatsu was distracted by the room, because it was his first time registering what he and his horrible babysitting has done to it. The diapers from earlier were lying discarded on the floor, the stink of it green as it smoked in an unnatural, visible hue. There were mats laid where Choromatsu had tried to change its diapers on the floor, but with no such luck when the naked toddler had stubbornly shoved him away. And everywhere else was tissues. Tissues for its baby-boy bottom, tissues for its tears, tissues for the pee stain that still coated the side of their bookshelf. It was a miracle none of the books were damaged.

Now sending his attention to Ichimatsu, Choromatsu casually said, “I think it likes you.”

“Get it off me,” Ichimatsu ordered lowly, one of his hands already looping around the baby’s naked half. His kitten sat next to him, watching the situation with innocent, naive curiosity. “I don’t want to be touching this thing if it means the cat will run away from me,” Ichimatsu added.

Choromatsu shook his head, pointing. “No, I think that’s better. It’s no longer crying.”

Now the first sign of irritation made itself present in his little brother’s face, and the instinct to kill could be easily traced on him. “Do you want me to kill you first before this baby, Chorofappyski?” he threatened. And with that specific tone of his, they were a word away from the revelation if Ichimatsu was going to carry out his promise or not.

For the sake of his safety, Choromatsu quickly trudged towards his brother, tossing the carton to the floor, and wrapped his hands around the baby’s waist, muttering at it to stop as it continued to clomp its toothless mouth around Ichimatsu’s slobbered ear. It wasn’t too difficult to extract it, but once Ichimatsu was back to his usual, careless self, the baby had reverted back into sobbing that made fatigue sprout in Choromatsu’s form. He slumped down beside Ichimatsu, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back.

But, well, he had to do something else now. He had to feed the baby with this darn milk, if that was going to work, and hopefully, it did. Options were limited at these dark times. That’s why Choromatsu stood—

—but so did Ichimatsu.

“Huh?” they spoke in unison.

Ignoring his brother, Choromatsu took a step closer to the milk on the ground, careful with the baby he had in his arms. He reached out—

—at the same time Ichimatsu did.

Choromatsu retreated—

—and Ichimatsu did too.

They were matching symmetrically, from the motions of their bodies to the youth they had in their arms.

Oh no, here we go again, Choromatsu thought in terror, and by the way Ichimatsu’s features were crumpled, he was thinking the same thing. Neither uttered a whisper as they lingered on their spots, both anticipating movement that they were completely aware was going to be mirrored by the clone in front of them. Choromatsu cringed at the same time Ichimatsu did.

It was just like before. Cod, it was just like before. The awkwardness, the tension, the horror. The only difference was that they had a baby and a kitten to witness their anathema.

“A-Ah, Ichimatsu,” Choromatsu stuttered, the smile plastered all fake and fearful, “would you like to prepare the milk for us? You could if you want—I won’t stop you.”

“No-no-no, I-I’d give the job to you if you wanted,” Ichimatsu answered, the wince in his emotions exposed in his grin. “But it’s fine. If you want me to do it, I won’t mind.”

“No, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll do it.”

It was silence. Silence, and so, so, so much awkwardness.

Cod, it really was going to be like last time. They needed an ice-breaker, now, may it be the arrival of another one of their brothers, or anything that could put an end in the painful awkwardness of their upcoming situation—

The baby vomited.

“Gah!” Choromatsu yelped, staggering backwards and raising the baby away from his body as it continued to release its bile, brown murk that landed as goops on both their floor and Choromatsu’s socks. Choromatsu extended it further, clearing it from killing him more, but not enough for Choromatsu to be safe from the scent of acid that lifted to his nostrils. He turned as green as his track jacket, wanting to puke himself at the horrible-as-crap permutations of food that made up the baby’s bile.

“Hang on!” Ichimatsu called out, running off towards where Choromatsu didn’t bother guessing. He continued to stand there with his arms stretched, one of his sleeves coated in a gross shade matching the current color of the floor. The baby kept going, and Choromatsu wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not to let it keep going, or if it was a better idea to give it water or its milk to get it to stop.

This. This is why he didn’t care a dang about babies.

“Oh, Cod, that smells so horrible!” Choromatsu gritted out, proceeding to yell, “Ichimatsu! Get some tissues and water or something! Forget about the milk for a bit and help me out here!”

“I got it!” Ichimatsu yelled back, returning a moment later with a bottle of water as he ran towards Choromatsu and the wheezing child. Ichimatsu put a hand underneath the child’s chin, tapping the cleanest spot there with a finger, saying, “Oi, kid! Open your mouth and gargle this dang water, huh?!” His tapping went harder, and the baby found itself irritated by Ichimatsu’s ruthlessness when it began making sounds that symbolized the start of another set of waterworks.

“You idiot!” Choromatsu screamed, yanking the baby away from Ichimatsu. “That’s not how you do it!”

“Are you doing any better?!” he retorted, waving the bottle as its insides smacked against the walls of its container. “You’re covered in its puke! Let me do my thing so that I can help get that abomination of a child away from a fappy loser like you!” He made a grab, but Choromatsu used one of his legs to kick him back. This just made Ichimatsu try to jerk and jostle, shaking the three of them in a hazardous earthquake.

“Are you trying to kill it?!” Choromatsu demanded.

“Not necessarily!” Ichimatsu replied, struggling against Choromatsu’s efforts to keep him off the little boy. He didn’t seem to give any care if he was getting too close to the vomit on Choromatsu’s sleeve. “But admit it! You’d rather have it dead than slobber on you the way it did! Cod, it was biting my ear!”

“Yeah, I would! But that isn’t what we need right now!” Choromatsu scoffed, still using his body as a shield, but not having its effectivity determine positivity for the child as it began whining once again. “Ichimatsu, cut it out! You’re making it worse!”

“So stop being stubborn! Give me the brat!” Ichimatsu yelled, slowing down far from a choice for him.

“No! Are you stupid?!”

“Not as stupid as you!”

“You’re so annoying!”

“You are too! So give me the whiny thing!”

Fed up and unable to take any more of the nonsense, Choromatsu nudged Ichimatsu with all the strength he could muster.

Ichimatsu reeled back, but a high-pitched screech interrupted their banter, and Ichimatsu was spun around so fast that Choromatsu had to remind himself that they were face-to-face just a millisecond ago.

In front of him, Ichimatsu’s anger diminished as a candle would on a windy day. Instead, he was suddenly sympathetic and entirely apologetic, a rare emotion that was emitted from the fourth-born Matsuno son on days that were as abnormally-normal such as this one. “Oh crap, I stepped on its tail!” Ichimatsu cried, kneeling down towards the small kitten so tiny and defenseless on the floor. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—!” But he didn’t get to finish as the kitten hissed at him and scrambled towards their open door.

When Ichimatsu faced Choromatsu again, he was absolutely fuming. “That was all your fault, Choromatsu!”

“Because you kept trying to throttle me and the baby!” Choromatsu snapped, and a second later he realized his mistake too late.

Flames danced in Ichimatsu’s gaze, and without another word he had his fingers spread out like claws, and he was pouncing onto Choromatsu with the feral battle roar of a lion. Choromatsu barely had time to breathe another breath before he was tackled to the floor, nearly dropping the baby and wailing out as punches made imprints on his face and body, Ichimatsu’s screaming a blur of words with the agony that blossomed in his skull.

The shock came first before the retaliation, and Choromatsu went just as mad as he stretched out his arms and grabbed Ichimatsu by his neckline and smacked him off. Both were yelling, and soon both boys were engulfed in a battle cloud as they threw punches and kicks against one another, neither of their sentences registering to the other over their own chaos. Bruises marked their skin, saliva spat out, and bodies were doubling over from the unexpected-expected mercilessness of his brother.

This though was so much better than being stuck in awkwardness, Choromatsu decided, and was so much better than having to care for some stupid, left-on-the-street toddler. The kitten though was far from Choromatsu’s priorities. And with that mindset still stable in his conscience, he and Ichimatsu resumed their brotherly battle of the middle sons.

“Uwa!” the baby suddenly exclaimed, and startled, Choromatsu and Ichimatsu froze as they turned towards it. Choromatsu’s knee was an atom away from Ichimatsu’s gut, and Ichimatsu’s grip was white-knuckle tight in Choromatsu’s hair. Their irritation morphed into confusion when the baby pointed towards its filthy mouth indicatively. Choromatsu, for dealing constantly with Todomatsu’s babyish behavior in high school, was familiar with that gesture—it was hungry.

Choromatsu was first to return to his senses as he finished off his kick on Ichimatsu before heading towards the baby, scooping it from the floor and stretching it out in front of him again. It still drooled colored spit. “Ugh, you little...” He groaned, tucking the baby to his shoulder and coming towards the couch, stopping by the fallen bottle of milk before settling down. He spared no heed towards his brother as he popped the bottle open, too tired to bother searching for a real baby bottle with the way things were going down for him.

Ichimatsu just stood there, arms crossed.

“What?” It was more of a statement than it was a question. “Follow your cat. I’ll handle myself here.”

Ichimatsu made a sound between his teeth. “Are you that stupid? It’s freaking pissed at me.”

“Then redeem yourself with this baby,” Choromatsu said, using the back of his sleeve to rub the mouth of the small boy. He continued to try aligning the mouth of the bottle to the baby’s, relieved flooding him when he matched his target. The throat of the baby bobbed as it swallowed down the milk, shutting its wet eyes and relaxing its tense body. There was no use for Ichimatsu in this situation anymore.

“Or not, since I’m doing well. Acting as your true niisan really does to the job sometimes.” He stopped, letting the baby gulp some more, before letting the baby suck again. The milk was draining fast. “Ichimatsu, you’re just standing there. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Well sorry if I’m doing that. You’re making me uncomfortable as well,” Ichimatsu snapped, tone clipped.

“Why? Because I pushed you enough to scare your cat away?”

And that was when he made his second mistake, but unlike earlier, this time he felt bad about it. He watched as Ichimatsu’s nose wrinkled in misery, and he was stomping out of the room before Choromatsu could even apologize. The door slid shut with a mighty clang, and Choromatsu felt the baby flinch in his arms as the last of the milk flicked into nothingness. The baby burped, slumping against Choromatsu’s chest, and shutting its eyes, it yawned.

About a second later it was sleeping, and the sky outside had tinted from blue to gray.

Choromatsu found himself slipping in and out of consciousness as the first drops of a downpour started to approach their hometown. The downpour turned into a pattering that struck against their rooftop, and soon it resorted into a steady rhythm of drumming, the light outside of their window contradicting the time of two-thirty in the afternoon. The cool air that managed to enter the room intertwined itself with Choromatsu’s system, tickling him and allowing drowsiness to climb up him.

He might’ve said that he had successfully fallen asleep when thunder shook him into cautiousness, alerting both himself and the baby that had its scream reverting into wailing. Choromatsu whined and let his back collide against the backrest of the sofa. Was this small creature that hydrated to be able to cry all day? Apparently so, and Choromatsu was too tired to deal with it. But he supposed he had to, since he had given the responsibility to himself.

He prepared to stand—

“Stop. Stay there,” Ichimatsu suddenly ordered, tone low and devoid of all the rage it had carried a few minutes ago. Ichimatsu knelt down on the floor with his brown eyes on the floor, a small redness seeping into his cheeks as he pressed something against the baby’s side. “Here. Take this. Maybe the baby will stop if it hugs this.”

It was a stuffed cat. Specifically, it was a stuffed cat that he had owned for only a few months when Jyushimatsu had won it at the latest spring fair. It was a black cat from a movie Choromatsu had forgotten about over how occupied he was with his latest novel series, but he remembered how often Ichimatsu would hide the toy when any of their brothers was around.

Now it was sitting right in front of him, pressed against the sides of both the baby’s body and Ichimatsu’s palm. Ichimatsu was expectantly silent.

“Ah, thank you, Ichimatsu,” Choromatsu said, taking the plush and inserting it between the nimble fingers of the baby. “Here, hug this. It’ll make you feel so much better.”

Understanding him or not, the baby wrapped itself around the plush, resting its chin on the toy’s neck and finding itself comfortable there. It nestled itself once more against Choromatsu’s chest, gaining its lost slumber as it breathed lightly. Its body rose and fell so steadily in its own harmony, creating dissonance with the pelting of the rain.

“That was nice of you, Ichimatsu,” Choromatsu said quietly as Ichimatsu set himself next to him. “How did you know it would help?”

“I didn’t,” Ichimatsu bluntly stated, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. “It was a hunch. Normally a lot of people feel better when they have someo—I mean, something to hug.” Ichimatsu’s face went redder.

“I suppose that’s true,” Choromatsu mused, pretending he didn’t see it. “But that was a nice sacrifice from you, Ichimatsu. I know you really like that cat, but to give it to the baby after it had finished puking and downing milk...” He shuddered, imagining his reaction if one of his personal stuff got into a similar position.

Ichimatsu smirked. “It’s no big deal. I’ll have Shittymatsu wash it when he gets home, or you so the secret stays about our inconvenience.”

Choromatsu scoffed playfully. “I would, but I don’t think so. I’m not touching baby drool.”

“It’s all over your sleeves.”

“Good point.”

They let the rain and the baby’s light snoring be their sound for a while.

“We should get that child to the police station when the rain lightens up,” Ichimatsu said, putting an end to the voiceless session. “Get it to its parents, if it has any. Eh, the police would do it, as long as it isn’t Officer Yatsugashira anymore.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I agree with you. And before the rest of our brothers get home.” Choromatsu went rigid, his guilt coming back as he said, “Ichimatsu, I’m sorry about what I said earlier, and for pushing you so hard. It was my fault you stepped on the cat. It should’ve been mad at me instead of you.” He let his shame overpower him as he waited for Ichimatsu to answer, to break the chain that had buckled itself in Choromatsu’s stomach.

“I’m sorry too,” Ichimatsu finally said, honesty in his voice. “I was being insensitive about the kid earlier. I suppose that having an ill feeling in his stomach isn’t his fault for vomiting. You were right. I should’ve held back on him.”

Choromatsu smiled at him with his angular smile. “I guess we both get into our own kind of trouble when we’re home alone, aren’t we?”

Ichimatsu dipped his chin with a matching smile of agreement. “Mhm.”

The sky continued to rumble, to weep uncontrollably. To close it out, Choromatsu said, “Did you find your cat after you went out? Is it still mad at you?” He sounded melancholic to his own ears.

“Yup. At the toilet. Managed to get in and shut the door on its own, magnificently. It didn’t let me get close to it at all, so I left it there.” He said it with a bluntness that made his mood indecipherable. Choromatsu deciphered it enough.

“We should get it out of there when we can, and take it back out before Mom or Dad gets back. Do you think it’s as lost as this baby is? Do you think it has a family waiting for it?”

Ichimatsu’s eyes went downcast. “It has to. I wouldn’t want to imagine something like it to be orphaned. But I won’t be surprised. Most of the cats I find in the alleyway are loners anyway, no matter how old. Animal parents just tend to be more neglectful of their offspring than human parents are. Well, some human parents.”

“Yeah. That’s too bad.”

Choromatsu suddenly understood then why babies were so important. Babies signified the creation of a new life, a new mind, a new purposeful thing to enter the world. Some lived to find galaxies in their eyes, to have papers with their names, to have friends and families that made more life that served as hope for thousands of upcoming generations in their cyclical world entitled as life. They grew to become scientists, seeing reality’s codes through intelligence. They grew to become writers, penning lessons that built up the human being into an impenetrable force. They grew to learn love and to give love, when romance, family, and friendship is introduced when they are feeling alone.

Babies became part of the future, and built it.

But not all babies lived long enough to be that. Some parents refused the responsibility of having a child, and killed them off mercilessly with the power of abortion. Some babies entered the world lifeless, miscarriage being the curse that invited them into the breathing world that way they were. Others were unfortunate enough to be caught in nature’s mishaps, fires, storms, and many more calamities taking away their lives before they could be lived. And because of that, there were so many chances of the world’s redemption that bit the dust, letting it flow in its brutal pace.

That’s what made babies special, and why their lives were important. As much as a human he was, so were they, and they held the probabilities to do the impossibilities many people in the present might not be able to accomplish.

And the baby in his arms was part of that crowd.

“Choromatsu-niisan,” Ichimatsu said, bringing him out of his reverie as he got up, “the rain’s lightening up. We should get going before the idiot eldest returns announcing his next Pachinko loss.”

“Right. We should.”

Choromatsu carefully lifted himself from the sofa, careful not to stir the baby from its sleep before accompanying Ichimatsu outside the bedroom. They took a turn towards the bathroom, Ichimatsu flicking the lights on, and Choromatsu saw the cat. It really was a delicate thing, so tiny against the corner of the room. It’s shadow on the wall alone made it look like a monster was looking after it, ready to bite with a single movement. It made Choromatsu’s heart hurt.

“Hey,” Ichimatsu cooed kindly, approaching the kitten with so much compassion that it was barely the Ichimatsu he knew anymore. “We’re going to take you home, okay? We’re going to take you back to your family. Won’t that be great?” Ichimatsu’s hurt from the kitten’s rejection was audible, and Ichimatsu’s forgiveness didn’t do the trick to calm Choromatsu’s shame.

The kitten lifted its vibrant gaze towards them, pulling back.

“Oh Cod...” Ichimatsu whimpered helplessly.

Choromatsu bowed solemnly.

“Uwa?” The baby, awake, shimmied in Choromatsu’s arms. It shook until Choromatsu had to bring it down to the floor, where it crawled towards the direction of the kitten after leaving Ichimatsu’s doll on the ground. Neither Choromatsu nor Ichimatsu made a move to stop it when the baby started petting the kitten’s back with the same kindness and love that Ichimatsu gave it. It was a touching sight as the kitten leaned into the baby’s hands, purring and meowing in a splinter of a pitch.

It was a cute sight that brought the two speechless for a while. Speechless because it was heartwarming, it was adorable, it was unexpected, and it was innocent. The baby laughed as the kitten purred.

“I don’t know what to say,” Choromatsu said, awed. “Only that today I have seen too many things I never thought I would see.”

“Mhm,” Ichimatsu hummed, voicing his agreement.

“Should we wait a little before going, let them play with each other for a little longer?”

Ichimatsu’s answer to that came in variations, and he was stuck without a proper answer. “Won’t we be awkward together?” he asked instead.

Choromatsu smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly in a solid reply. And Ichimatsu grinned at him in return, placing his own hand on Choromatsu’s back.

Maybe spending the day with each other wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

#osomatsu-san #choromatsu matsuno #bits of my brothers #choromatsu #ichimatsu #nenchuu #fan-fic #osomatsu san #anonymous #fanfic #ichimatsu matsuno #i accidentally tagged jyushi instead of ichi and realized it so late IM SORRY

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maldaptivedaydreamer · 5 years

Text

Strange Addictions- M.Y.G (1)

Pairings: Yoongi/Reader, Taehyung/Reader

Type: Gang/Drug Dealer AU?! BTS RUN ERA!

Genre: Angst,Crime, Slow Burn??, Eventual Smut

Warnings: Strong Language, Mentions of death, stuff you expect from this genre really.

Word count: around 2k.

Preface:

Y/N was an incredibly smart and innocent young girl. Her eyes sparkled like the stars and she was the very definition of charming and youth. So when she finally moved to the same city as her older brother, the summer before UNi began, it was no wonder how close she became to his troubled friend Taehyung. She was loving life but soon money got tight; what with preparing for school and such. So while exploring her soon to be new campus, she was tipped off by a student about a part time job delivering pizzas. How awesome! Her coworker is aloof but attractive and slightly older than her. But when he warms up to her, and with the permission of the boss, he promises to look out for her and teach her what he knows. She gets far more than she bargained for and soon it’s too late for her to turn around. But with him she didn’t care. At least for awhile. But nothing good ever lasts in this city and soon everything has fallen apart and Yoongi and Tae are no where to be found. Forced to take Yoongis place, she is now ruthless and hardened after all this time. Best in her business now really. But at night the girl she used to be slips out now and then. It’s his fault but she can’t let him go.

I thought I knew fear. True deep fear. Up until now fear was a spectrum of emotions spun into one. Constantly shifting and almost undeterminable. A force of its own demanding to be felt. I thought I knew sorrow. Promises un-kept and missed opportunities soon to be forgotten within the passing of time. All holding respective lessons to be learned. Stepping stones of self-discovery and growth. Necessary. Accepted.

My world has always been vibrant and moving. When change did not come, I made it myself. Finding simple pleasures in the world around me. My eyes were always set on the far horizons of “What Could Be” or far behind in “What Had Been”. My life, in my eyes, was a blank canvas and I wanted to capture the essence of life itself in that one painting. With that goal in mind, the come and go of people in my life didn’t matter as much. They had their own paths to follow.

But over the course of a year or so it seems any and all essence of life has been drained from me. The unforgiving city took all I had to give with little regard. Tainted innocence. People acting similarly. And soon I was no better. Following the crowds mindlessly during the day and running the streets at night. My eyes were sunken and exhausted from the lack of sleep I had been getting but I couldn’t stop. After all: There Ain’t No Risk For The Wicked. And dealers don’t get sick days.

Today was an average day with equally average weather. Grey skies reflected off grey pavements as soft chill blew through unevenly.

I work part time as a pizza delivery driver complete with the dorkiest scooter and helmet combo. A job I once eagerly came into back when he still worked here. But that was months ago. But business as usual with customers getting their fix and a side of pizza. I can’t help but crack up at the set up every now and then. “Yes can I get a large pepperoni with extra spice? ”

The phrase (spice) was inconspicuous enough that if anyone overheard they would be none the wiser. But the owner and anyone he trusted to work under him knew. And because I had “such a unsuspecting and adorable face” he immediately took me under his wing. Well not after a few so called tests of corse. At first they were frightening when I had no idea who I was working for let alone with.

But Yoongi. Yoongi always made sure we came home safe to the Old Man. He used to anyways. Jealousy and spite are poisonous things.

I was running a delivery to a regular today though. Triple spice with extra dust for one Seok. His full name was Hoseok but for the sake of orders he only ever went by Seok. Although when I first met him he insisted I call him Hope. He had the brightest smile that could outshine any star and a laugh like a dream. I fell for him a bit that day but in more of a childish school girl way. I felt guilty when I first began delivering him more than just pizza. When I thought we were friends. Now it’s just business.

Rounding the corner past the dry cleaners and laundromat I pulled over and parked the scooter on the curb. He lived in the apartments above the mainstream businesses and I had a few other customers on this same road. Some days I’d make 8 deliveries at once. Ha! Heading up the creaky stairs, covered in carpet at least 30 years old, I nearly tripped over the one collapsed spot.

“Pfft you would think after nearly two years you would remember to not step there” spoke a familiar yet raspy voice.

“Yea well after two years you would think your bastard slum lord would’ve fixed it” I grumbled meeting eyes with Seok who draped himself almost casually against his door frame waiting for me to close the distance.

“You got my money Seok?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that when it’s just us you know” he chided but nonetheless pulls out the required bills and passes them to me under the pizza box as we trade off. I don’t have to bother counting them here though. He was many things but he was reliable when it came to this.

“You wanna come in and share this with me? You look tired y/n. You should come in and relax?”

“Seok..”

“Y/n.”

“Hhrrrg Hobes I am not doing this today. Why don’t you call up Jimin? I’m sure he would be thrilled.”

“Aish he’s not answering. Hung up on another girl”

“Hmmm maybe you should try that sometime. Maybe not a relationship but just get laid or something.” I raised my eyebrows at this pointedly. But he just smirked.

“Well if you’re offering..”

“Goodbye Seok!” Rolling my eyes, as he sighed and shut the door behind me, I went back down the stairs avoiding the dip at the top this time. Someones gonna bust a knee cap on that bullshit one of these days.

The familiar hum of the bike underneath made it easier to remember the girl I had been before. Sometimes I would even ride it by the river and pretend I was a normal Uni girl again. Before I had dropped out and everything spun wildly out of control.

Jin insisted one day we would bring mom and dad out and have a cheesy family picnic together. I laughed then at how silly it sounded but….I would trade everything in the world to have that now.

I haven’t spoken to my parents since his passing. Truthfully he’s the reason I can no longer sleep. His death plagued my nights and almost my days until I finally killed off all my feelings.

Well almost. There are still nights where my throat is raw and my body is ravaged and racked with sputtering tears and silent wails. I can’t cry to loud so I have to choke the sobs down usually which leads to me getting sick half the time. Beats noise complaints I guess.

“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE FUCKING GOING!!”

“Oh shit!”

I grabbed the breaks and yanked my steering towards the left until I was completely clear of the asshole that decides to step out into the road. Hard dirt and gutter water splattered all over me once I made contact with the ground. The bike crushing my legs in a weird twisted mess. But seemingly no broken limbs at least. Now who the fu-

“Yo y/l/n did you not fucking see me?”

Tae? What is he doing back in the city?

“Are you listening to me?”He gestured angrily but all I could do was stare blankly and blink as I picked up my bike.

“*under his breath and exasperated* This crazy bitch who does she think she is?”

“Pfft not your bitch for sure. Also speak up if you’re gonna go talkin shit.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“I sure hope it is. And where the fuck have you been exactly? Seok and Jimin said they haven’t heard from you in nearly two months?”

“I’ve been working and taking care of my family. Some of us have to make a more modest living than others to make ends meet” he narrowed his eyes as he finished his sentence.

Easy to say that Tae has not, and never will be, a customer of The Old Man. He didn’t know about the whole operation until what happened with my older brother. In fact we had all been close when I first moved here.

“I don’t have time for this.” I stood planning to leave before a thought occurred to me; “How’s your mother by the way? Is she..ya know... ok?”His eyes darkened but he shifted his stance and his gaze to the side. Like he was trying to keep himself together.

“I’m with her so she’s fine”

“You know that’s not what I mean-“

“It’s none of your fucking business y/l/n” Again I blinked, turning to start the bike and climbing on; not bothering to wipe the dirt off my body or face.

“Whatever”

He bristled. “You know this life is not what he wanted for you-“ he begins lowly, looking back up to meet my eyes.

“Yea well to quote yourself: it’s none of your fucking business Tae” and with a sardonic smile I sped off back to the shop where more deliveries were to be made.

Just an ordinary day. Sure.

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writingpromptswithkate · 5 years

Text

Two Moons Are Better Than One

Part IV.

“Your neighborhood is so quiet,” Hannah remarked in a hushed voice as Nate pulled his truck into the driveway.

“It’s a little too quiet right now,” came Nate’s gruff reply.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. He was never home in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday, maybe the level of quiet was normal. Maybe the terrier that barked all night was only able to do so because it slept through the day. That had to be it.

The power was out, he noticed immediately when he entered. Everything electrical has a hum: the fridge, the TV, the small orange nightlight plugged into the hall. It’s the kind of white noise thing nobody notices until one day it’s not there. Nate was acutely aware of the lack of it. No wonder the neighborhood felt too quiet.

He set Hannah in charge of the hall closet, where big Costco sized packs of paper towels and toilet paper rolls waited wrapped in plastic. It took her two fully loaded trips to get it all hauled into the bed of Nate’s truck.

Nate was making a rather more thorough tour of his house, hunting down blankets, camping gear, water bottles. He met Hannah in the kitchen. She had pulled in two coolers from the deck.

“I thought between your house and mine we could get these filled” she explained.

“Good idea. The cabinet to your left has nonperishables—grab that box of Ramen.”

“You need boiling water to make Ramen,” Hannah protested, but even as she said it Nate was pulling an electric kettle down from another cabinet.

“It’s for camping: electrical or battery. I know there’s bowls in the break room so no worries there...”

After the easy nonperishables they moved on to the produce. The vegetables would spoil quickly without power but fruit would hang on a few days either way.

“Do we have any idea what’s really going on?” Hannah muttered to herself over a small pile of apples.

“We really don’t.”

“All those people... Oh, Goddess.” Hannah sniffed and put her sleeve to her eye. She was not fully crying yet but she was close. “Do you think it has anything to do with that second moon?”

Nate shrugged. “I don’t see how it could. Yeah the extra light keeps me awake at night, but it’s not driving me that crazy. Not like... Robbie.”

At the mention of the name Hannah gave a loud dry sob. “Oh Robbie. That was awful.”

“He yelled at you and threatened to fire you,” Nate reminded her.

“Yeah but he didn’t deserve to die... You know? Back in the day? People used to think the moon caused madness. That’s why they called it lunacy, like lunar.”

“So twice the moons means twice the madness?”

Hannah flinched at his sharp tone, and he immediately felt ashamed of himself. He had to keep reminding himself that she was having an even worse day than he was. Speculating about the situation might not be helping, but snapping at someone who was already scared and upset was even less helpful.

“Sorry. It’s just, this Bird Box shit has me on edge.”

“Yeah. No, no worries,” Hannah mumbled. “Bird Box? You think it’s something like that? Monsters you can’t see until you can, or that manifest as your worst fear or whatever?”

Nate shrugged. “Honestly I have no idea. I don’t know if it’s the moon, or monsters, or a zombie apocalypse virus. I just know that people are dying and we have no idea what’s triggering it.”

“It seems like most of the people who’ve gone crazy so far did it while they were driving. But Robbie didn’t go anywhere today...?”

“We don’t know that. The people driving are just the ones who have caused damage, the ones people are tweeting about. Who knows how many more people are going crazy right now in their own homes?”

Hannah’s face turned grim. “We should hurry up and get to my folks.”

Nate could only agree. They threw the coolers into the back of his truck.

They tried to get the radio to work while Hannah directed the way to her house, but less than half of the usual stations were transmitting. Most of the ones that came through were in Spanish. The traffic advisory channel on AM came through, but there was nothing it could tell them that they could not observe with their own eyes.

Nate understood what Hannah meant by his neighborhood being quiet when he arrived at her house. Hannah and her family lived on the edge of a trailer park right off the highway; they would be subject to traffic and truck noise at any and all hours of the day.

Right now though, with the streets already clogged, with all the remaining traffic slowed down, and without the familiar hums of electricity, her neighborhood was also unnaturally quiet.

Or it was.

A gunshot sounded nearby. Right in front of them, actually. It came from Hannah’s house.

Stricken, Hannah fumbled for the door handle and practically fell out of the truck. She ran in a blind panic to her front door.

Nate was only a few steps behind her; he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back before she could touch the screen.

“Whoever. Is. In. There. Has. A. Gun.” He said each word deliberately. Hannah sobbed again.

“Mom. Dad,” she croaked pitifully. And Nate was not without pity. But he also could not let her run into danger blindly. It was a single-wide for God’s sake; where could she run? Where could she possibly hide?

An answering sob came from inside the house. It was, at first, inarticulate wailing. Like the cry of an inconsolable baby filtered through adult lungs. Gradually some words began to filter through the cries.

“Irene...” the voice cried out between blubbers.

Hannah began thrashing against Nate’s grip on her. “That’s my dad!” she screamed at him, just before breaking free and running into her house.

Nate hesitated for a second, torn between going after Hannah and protecting himself against being shot.

Hannah’s scream was the tie-breaker, and Nate tore after her without thinking.

Entering Hannah’s parents’ living room was like entering a labyrinth of dusty tchotchkes and brass picture frames that together covered so much of the walls you almost couldn’t tell what an unpleasantly dark, dated shade of fake wood paneling was under them. A kitchen to the right sported dark cabinets with brass hardware, and the trend continued down the hall to the left with paneled walls and brass doorknobs.

It was from that direction that Hannah’s scream had apparently come, and Nate threaded his way around small laundry piles and stacks of magazines until he reached the end of the hall.

The door to the master bedroom stood ajar, and just inside it: Hannah, standing with her back pressed against a picture frame on the wall, staring in mute terror at the floor.

Hannah’s mother, who must have been Irene, lay on the floor, dead or nearly so. She was surrounded by a pool and a spray of her own blood, her discarded oxygen tank a few feet away beside the bed.

And sitting on the bed, with hollow eyes and a decrepit hand wrapped around a 9mm pistol, was an old man. He was staring down at Irene in shock.

“Dad?” Hannah finally squeaked out. The old man flinched but he did not look up.

“Mr. Jennings?” Nate prompted. Hannah’s dad flinched again.

“Mr. Earl Jennings?” Nate said again, after a brief whispered appeal to Hannah for her dad’s first name. At the sound of his first name, he finally looked up.

“I had to do it,” he wheezed in despair. “I had to do it. She was going crazy. She was... oh, Irene.”

Nate turned toward Hannah, but her face was white and her lips were sealed, and she would not or could not speak.

“What do you mean, Mr. Jennings? What do you mean, she was going crazy?”

Mr. Jennings wailed. “She was talking all this crazy talk, about how the whole world had to be cleaned. She said she was going to the moon while the world was cleaned, and when it was done bein’ cleaned she was gonna come back and be queen here. On a new clean Earth. She was...crazy. She took off her oxygen mask and hit me when I tried to put it back on her.” And truly, ugly bruises were forming on Earl’s face and arms. “She started screamin’. And then. Then she just stopped. She went all silent and cold-like. Then she said. She said.” He paused.

“What did she say, Mr. Jennings?” Nate prompted after a few moments of nothing but Earl sobbing.

Earl took a shuddering breath. “She seemed calm. But she took a knife from the kitchen. And she said the world had to be cleaned, and she’d do the cleanin’ if she had to...Oh God. She was gonna kill me, I could see it in her eyes. Irene...” he broke off again into inarticulate wailing.

After a few minutes he subsided, and he finally looked up at Hannah. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”

He held the pistol up to his own temple and pulled.

Hannah screamed. Nate screamed. Earl did not scream. The force of the shot flung his body down against the mattress. The blood sprayed out and flicked all over Nate and Hannah’s clothes.

Nate turned as quickly as he could, threw his arms around Hannah and pushed her head against his shoulder, forcing darkness over her eyes. He was not quick enough to spare her the sight of her father’s death, but at least she would not be able to keep looking at it. It also prevented Nate from having to look at the body any longer than necessary. He was actually feeling like he might be sick if he did not get them out of this room quickly.

Hannah sobbed and screamed into Nate’s shoulder and alternated between struggling against his grip on her and clutching his shirt. She let him herd her out of the master bedroom, but her legs gave out in the living room and she collapsed onto the threadbare sofa.

She stayed there, curled up and sobbing, for at least another ten minutes. Nate was powerless to do anything but sit there next to her, trying as hard as he could to get the image of Earl’s last moments out of his mind. The image would not go away.

First Robbie, now Hannah’s parents. Was the whole world going crazy?

—the story continues—

<<Part III | Part V>>

#two moons are better than one #part four #writing #fiction writer #short story #science fiction writing #fantasy writing #horror writing #genre: horror #genre: survival horror #genre: fantasy #tw: dead body #tw: suicide #tw: murder #apocalypse

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zvolyx-lord-of-chaos · 4 years

Text

I've been typing into AI Dungeon like a madman for 4 hours and came up with this delusional piece of hot garbage. This is the second part I guess, but you won't want to read the first part because it's even more painful. Anyway, I have this saved as "CringeGenderBendTrash" on my phone, so you know what you got yourselves into. Let the Cringe begin:

"No...no... I can't..." You can no longer find any words.

And even if you could, you couldn't say them with strange girl's voice you had now. A girl's voice. *Your* voice.

As the weight of your situation begins to set on you, your emotions catch up to you and you break down.

You collapse to the floor and begin bawling uncontrollably.

Your now longer hair gets in your face as you let tears flow freely from your eyes and you begin to choke on your sobs.

Your nose starts to drip as you continue crying, so you bring your hand up to your face to wipe it. Both your hands and face feel so small and unfamiliar.

Imagine that, your own hands and face, unfamiliar. You try to stop yourself from crying further, and fail fail miserably. After a few minutes your crying starts to die down slightly when, in a small effort to comfort yourself, you bring your legs closer to your chest and they bump against your...your...

You're hit with a new wave of emotiome as you again start to wail and choke, your eyes dry as you have run out tears to cry.

You don't even care if someone hears you, you just want to cry.

To cry as loudly as you can.

'Shouldn't it feel wrong, wanting to cry?', you think. After all, you were taught for years that you shouldn't need to.

Bu t that didn't matter now because, somehow, crying is somehow you feel... a little better.

You continue to cry, alone on the bathroom floor, thinking of all that's just happened to you, and what will happen to your life.

After a few more minutes, your sobs begin to soften into sniffles. As you regain your composure you come to the conclusion that maybe crying once in a whole isn't so bad, after all. It's a good way to get out your sadness and pain. It did htell you to, after all. That's not why you had stoped crying; however. In fact, you still wanted to cry. You had simply lost the energy and will to do so.

After a time, you get up and face your reflection again.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but nothing ha s changed about your appearance.

Apart from your wet face and red eyes, that is.

Still sniffling, which sounded painfully adorable, (and contributed to why you still wanted to cry), you wash off your face and dry it with a nearby towel.

Unfortunately, it catches on one of your horns and rips.

You sigh in dismay. You had somehow almost forgotten about them.

You turn back up to the mirror and run your hands over your horns. They were cold and smooth. And though they weren't particularly sharo, they would be easy to get things stuck on.

In total there were four horns. Two sets of two, a large one and a slightly smaller one below it on each side.

They wrapped around from the back sides of your head and curved around to the front, where they then curved in toward you face slightly and pointed down at the ends, forming a sort of strange, hook-like shape.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out they weren't completely black, and had a dark purple tint toward the bottom. Somehow, you found them quite... beautiful.

Strange. Just yesterday up you would have never been able to think of them that way, let alone compliment someone's.

You shook the thought from your head. What you thought didn't matter, after all. The fact that they were there at all told the whole world exactly what you were now– a half-demon. The downsidea to this alone were numerous– strict curfews, forbidden entry to some businesses, hatred, fear, denial of work, some people even attacked half-demons for no reason! It had been this way for years, sadly.

Around the world, all different kinda of non-humans faced numerous injustices, and your city was a no exception.

For examlple: until recently, non-human children were barred from schools throughour the country, and it took almost 5 years of protest and other pressures on the government to finally get a law passed to fix it.

You sigh and shake your head.

'This is too much to think about right now.', 'I just need to focus on what I'm going to do right now.'

By this time, the sick feeling had mostly left you, but you still hurt everywhere, and your clothes were nearly soaked with sweat. gross.

All these physical changes had taken a huge toll on your body, and you were completely exhausted and dehydrated.

After some encouragement from yourself, you manage to make your way out of the bathroom and back to your room where you search for a fresh set of clothes.

You rummage around your dresser drawers and pull out a shirt and pair of pants, hoping to get dressed so you can get some water before resting a while.

You are dismayed to discover, however, that the pants are far too big for you now, and they fall straight off, taking your, until then still on, underwear with them.

Your face flushes red with embarrassment and you snap your head upwards quickly, wishing you still had the energy to cry at least a little.

Why me? You ask yourself.

Sighing, you turn back to your dresser and dig around until you find it: "it" being a shirt your mom had bought for you online, but had selected the wrong size for.

Silently thanking your mom for her mistake, and yourself for having kept the thing, you drape the (now even more so) extremely large shirt over you. Hanging slightly off one shoulder, and covering you almost perfectly below your knees,

you are now in the proper water-fetching attire.

Exiting your room, you quickly and quietly make your way downstairs to the kitchen, the blanket-like shirt swishing around you as you move.

Ignoring the breezy feeling tickling your legs as you walk, you reach the kitchen and, with minor difficulty, grab a glass from the now slightly higher cabinet.

Finally, with your hands completely buried in your shirt's enormous sleeves, you take the glass and fill it from the refrigerator's water filter.

After you finish your drink, (and a further two after that), you put your glass in the sink. And begin to leave the kitchen.

As you're beginning to exit the kitchen, you glance at you shirt-sleeve-covered hands and an idea pops into your head.

Following through, you start shaking your arms up and down. Slowly, at first, and then slightly faster. The sleeves draping far over your hands begin to flop around every which way, making a fwwp fwwp sound as they do.

'Hehe... this is kinda fun, somehow. It's just an oversized shirt, but it's fun', you giggle to yourself.

You continue to play with the shirt's long sleeves for some time and then do a small twirl, the shirt swishing around your legs and making a small wsssh sound as you spin.

You feel yourself smiling and about to let out a small laugh when you snap back to reality.

'No! Now is not the time to be playing!', you snap at yourself internally, 'I've got to figure out... well, everything.'.

Your thoughts continue: 'Oh man I probably looked so stupid, spinning around like that...', the mental image you form is too embarrassing to think about. Blushing from the thought, you shake it and contine; 'It is tue, though. I need to start thinking about what to do next.'

You think for a moment, 'I guess I could start by–' your train of thought is interrupted when you hear a noise coming from your parents' bedroom.

Up to this point you hadn't needed to worry about anyone seeing you like... well, like this, as you had woken up so early.

But now, as it was approaching 7:00am, your parents were starting to wake up.

'Crap. I need to get back before anyone sees me.'

You hastily make your way back to your room before anyone has a chance to leave their own.

If you actually read the whole thing you need to get a psychiatrist, because there's something seriously wrong with you. With both of us.

Goodbye.

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