Summary: After leaving your house because you can’t handle being hated in your very own home, Sam talks with you while your house becomes quiet…
Warning: minimal angst, honestly it’s a little fluffy with you and Sam. The objects are miserable now. There will be a part three and four!!
PART ONE | MASTERLIST | READ ME
Sam has been the most understanding friend what felt like your only friend she tries her hardest to bring you out of your slump and rationalize while simultaneously making fun of you as to why your relationships within your home have a burning hate for you.
She’s pointing fun yet logical, allowing you to rant about what you did and where you possibly went wrong with each. She sat across from you, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees in full concentration. You were sat back practically melting into the furniture that didn’t despise you, moving a hand around to exaggerate your speech with the other stuffing your face with food like you haven’t eaten in weeks. Lowkey, you haven’t.
“When I talked to Hoove, being nice and supportive while telling him not to work too hard—I thought I was being sweet ya’know—“ You stuff your face and swallow.
“—but apparently NOT?? He got angry with me, when I tried backtracking and apologize which crazy by the way he said he HATED ME?!” You shout, you can feel your face heat in anger at the thought before tears well up.
“Or how I tried to speak with Daisuke—“
“Who’s that one?”
“Oh my tableware, he’s like tall about yay-high with black hair a portion of it in a bun with like dishware themed robes…I heard from others in rhe kitchen that he’s into taking things seriously” You explain with a wave of the hand.
“I actually…heh I thought that we’d get along, he likes taking care of the dishes and even tries to fix them if they crack due to me but that’s not the point I too like fixing things, I want to fix things…but I guess unlike him or fake it till you make it like Tony…I just make it worse…”
“I…I just wanted to be friends or the I don’t know? Date? The whole reason of the damn glasses.” You mutter, you push the snacks away and use a napkin to clean yourself.
Dating them, any of them wasn’t the main goal. Sure it’s interesting but realizing the things around your home have their own lives in the house was so cool!
Being a hermit, a homebody it felt like a this was a way to help you as well, to get better with being social and maybe let you learn that the outside wasn’t so scary and not everything was out to get you.
But, you messed it up—perhaps you tried too hard, pushed too much, didn’t push enough, didn’t flirt when needed to, too flirty for some, or didn’t have enough specs for the correct dialogue and it came out lame. Now, you’re both miserable in the house and out of it.
Sam was trying, really was. As you spoke she’d occasionally glance around her apartment as if the ranting was making her paranoid about her house. Sighing she runs her hand down her face. She should’ve said something about the weird black stuff in that bathroom, maybe it was the fumes getting to you, but she shook her head.
“What else happened?…”
“The breaking point?”
“Yeah, what made you take off the glasses?”She asks, you groan, slumping back and wiping away a few stray tears as you remembered.
“I was going to the Breaker Box Club, ‘cause Eddie and Volt were still nice-ish from our previous conversations—I hadn’t talked to them in a bit by then cause I was trying to salvage whatever was going on between Harper the hamper and Dirk dirty clothes. I wanted to catch up and help Eddie with some of his work like last time.” You shift in your seat uncomfortably.
“When I entered it was packed, I was happy for them that their business was getting bigger but I knew it was gonna be a lot to take on so I went to find one of them to offer help…”
“…you try and help a lot…”
“I do, it’s…the only thing I can give to them—“ you stop yourself, continuing the story of the night prior.
“But, I knew I wasn’t welcomed. Everyone avoided me, whispering around like I was back in school. Again, Volt saw me. I remember waving at him as he walked over way too quickly. We talked as he pushed me along the way I came from, when I noticed I was confused and…worried I lost another person again…” You take in a deep breath.
“I did…the gossip around the club didn’t go unnoticed by the owners he wanted to get rid of me so it didn’t disturb the customers. I tried talking to him saying that I wasn’t a bad…person…” You don’t sound convinced yourself by that statement.
“He wasn’t having it, his…skin almost turned this light blue? His hand gripped my arm to drag my away from the prying eyes, it hurt…not to make him anymore mad I let him, throw me out…” Voice trailing off, Sam looks stunned, like this was the most juiciest soap opera ever.
“You got kicked out of your own break box—“
“YES, I GOT KICK OUT” you yelled but not at Sam, yelling at the absurd thought of being thrown out of your own break box.
“Crazy…” She elongates the ‘zy’ in the word, unsure how to handle the rest of this.
“Do you think there’s a way to start over with them? All of them I mean?”
The sun was setting, making the silence seem light and comforting. You’re tired, and don’t know where to tread next, so many ideas run in your mind that you—wait…
There might be a very dubious way to get your life back to normal. The thought felt terrible, too personal and guilty, but you don’t seem to have any other option. At least not right now. So, you’ll pin the idea with Keith in the back of your mind. And let it fester or wilt as you and Sam brainstorm together.
Back at the house.
The ones that cheered for your leave are quiet, basking in the dullness of the house. Sure they can talk to one another but…that’s uneventful. The house is missing apart of itself the part of you. The human part. The fragile, unpredictable, unproductive, and lonely ways of you has gone missed.
But everyone refuses to say it out loud. They’re all still bitter and angry with how you treated them—wait…why exactly are they all mad? Some can’t remember but feel justified, although, looking back they just remember you trying. No.
No. You hurt them. They think…
…
…
Okay—well they aren’t sure…not anymore.
The lights are off because there’s no need to see, the sinks and baths don’t run because there’s no one to draw it for, the wall creaks and settles sadly, coffee pot remains unused along with the beauty products, television, books, sofa, stove—all of it. All of them are…completely bored?
Maybe, making your life inconvenienced and almost down right harassed in your day to day life after you stopped interacting with them wasn’t the right way to express their anger. A day turned to four then a week then two weeks.
Dorian can feel the worry in every room about when you’ll return, he huffs. Bedroom Dorian stands still, looking up at the ceiling then down to the floor, watching Florence quickly scramble around her time book with all the new complaints and meetings for Celia.
He reluctantly…steps forward. Away from his position to stand right in front of the poor woman. He rather be doing his job, the thing he thinks so highly of. However, he too is miserable more miserable than laundry room closet Dorian because what is his purpose now that the one who he open and closes for…is gone?
But he’s convinced himself that speaking with Celia will help.
Paliliberation posted: Family 167 - Imagine being a mom, a wife, and a dedicated career woman on the brink of life-saving research, only to have everything ripped away. This isn’t just a personal loss; it’s an assault on progress and humanity itself. When the pursuit of knowledge and the chance to help others is brutally stopped, we should all be enraged. A world that allows this to happen is failing us all. It’s time to stand up and refuse to let dreams and lives be crushed.
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Dear friends, family, and compassionate supporters,
My name is Eman Za… Mazin Fakak needs your support for Help my family survive famine an
I am Mohammed Alanqer married from Enas Majed we have 3 children
Amidst the ongoing war in Gaza, we find ourselves as a family trapped between walls of fear and despair. I, Mohammed, a father of three children and a husband to a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy, live in an environment filled with threats and risks.
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My technology startup, which I built with dedication and hard work, was destroyed during this war, leading to the loss of our livelihood. My children, Layan, Sarah, and Adam, no longer have the opportunity for education due to the destruction of schools, posing a significant threat to their future.
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Our only hope now is to escape from this ongoing hell and find a safe haven for our family. However, this requires exorbitant financial costs, with the coordination fee for crossing borders amounting to $5000 per adult and $2500 per child, a sum I cannot afford alone.
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I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY AND LIKE 2 HOURS LATER THE WALLET I HAD LOST 6 HOURS AWAY FROM HOME THAT HAD MY DEBIT CARD AND LIKE 80 DOLLARS IN CASH WAS DELIVERED TO MY HOUSE WITH NO RETURN ADDRESS I CANT HELP BUT THINK IT WAS JACKIE CHAN WHO SENT IT GOD BLESS YOU JACKIE CHAN
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