To save on money, you accepted the offer to stay in your old childhood room with your parents and find yourself reminiscing only to be pulled back into reality.
You felt your stomach doing flips once you started to recognize where you were. Instinctively ducking your head away from the windows in case someone spotted you earlier than intended. When the car stopped, you peeked out and saw your old childhood home. Instead of the deep green with black trimming, it was painted light purple and white trimmings with hanging flowerbeds that sprouted lavender with lilacs leading up to the door.
You sighed. Guess Ma got her wish after all. "Thanks." You glanced at the driver and handed him the last dollar in your creased wallet, a crispy twenty-dollar bill you managed to snag from a malfunctioning vending machine. You hear the greedy voice hiss in the back of your mind of how foolish you are to rid yourself of the very thing that made this world go round so easily.
The man shook his head with a smile, "You already paid," he grinned, tapping his temple, "I wouldn't trade it for anything." He huffed, waving his hand to gently knock yours back away from him, "Now, best be on your way. I want to take my sister out for brunch while it's acceptable brunch hours. You understand." You smile softly, "Thanks, it means a lot." You placed the twenty back into your wallet as your smile shoved the greedy voice in the back of your mind. You waved to the old man, who grunted as you climbed out and pulled your bag from the car trunk.
You slung the bag over your shoulder, leaving one strap hanging without an arm accompanying it. You waved once again as the man drove away, leaving you alone at the end of your childhood driveway with your entire life upon your shoulders. Your melancholic thoughts only deepened when the door opened to see the shocked face upon your Ma. You didn't tell her you were coming, and part of that reason was to catch the slight disappointment on her face before it was covered up by the mask of happiness.
"Eel? Is that really you!?" Her voice rose into a pitch that sounded painful to maintain. Her heels clicked as she hurried towards you down the driveway, her sundress flowing perfectly in the soft breeze.
You felt your heart clench and fall into the dark pit that appeared in your stomach. "What the fuck did you call me!?" was what you wanted to yell at her, but all you could manage was a meek, "What.. did you call me?" You muttered, lifting your head to look at her just when she cupped your face.
"Sorry, sweetie, old habits." She smiled, her thumb gently pressing on your cheek to wipe away a few eye boogers you'd missed. That made you swat her hand away from embarrassment. "Good to see you too, Ma." You adjusted the bag and looked at the house. "Looks like you got busy. Dad wouldn't be too pleased about it." You trailed off when you noticed she was scratching her neck. "Wow. So you were serious."
That made her narrow her eyes at you, and her voice raised. "What is it with you and your father thinking I'm messing around all the time?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "So, you actually did, you got divorced." You couldn't help yourself.
You noticed a band of skin much lighter than her tanned skin, an imperfection she took rather easily. "So, who's the new guy?" Your Ma turned around. If looks could kill, you'd be dead twice over. "Why are you here?"
Her words cut through you like ice. "Because... you offered it to me?" She laughed exaggeratedly, yelling, "Five years ago! And you ignored me!" She scoffed, "I half expected that my letter was tossed in the shredder." She started towards her car and turned it on but didn't step in. You were about to walk over to her before she put her hand up that moved to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"I don't have time for this." Your Ma stated, crossing her arms as her lips pulled into a frown. You felt your blood boil, the words slipping from your lips, "That's cool," you shrugged, hoping your nonchalant display was masking your feelings, "you never did anyways." You regret the words the moment you saw the pain in your Ma's eyes the moment she registered them. She clenched her fists but crossed them over her arms, her fingers digging into her skin.
"You didn't even give me time!" Her crossed arms unfolded at her hips. "You want me to make time for you?" She threw the keys at you, making you stumble to catch them, "Make an effort." She opened the car door and got into the seat. You stared at her as she rolled down her window, "Meatloaf is in the fridge. Don't want that; there's soup you can heat up. You know where your room is."
She didn't let you speak as she began to reverse down the driveway; her window pulled up simultaneously. You watched her drive until she disappeared around a bend before you looked down at the keys with a heavy groan.
"Good going, Eel." You muttered bitterly to yourself before you turned and entered your childhood home.
The smells of fresh linen brought back childhood memories. You swear you could smell the gingerbread houses you'd make with your Ma, your tastebuds yearning for the taste of cinnamon after you devoured your hours of craft in seconds.
Your feet wandered to the kitchen, the memory of gingerbread guiding you. The fridge was decorated with various childlike drawings of stick figures in triangle or rectangle clothing and spiky green grass drawn by your once tiny hand. A smile appeared as you began to look at a few that your Ma made notes on. One of you making gingerbread houses with your Ma, one of what looked to be you teaching a class with your Ma's note; "best parent day."
Your smile faltered when you noticed that one of your drawings was much... smaller than normal. You gently pulled it free from the heart magnet and noticed it was folded to the back. The smile fell into a frown when you saw the entire picture.
The crease was at your hand holding your dad's, who held a long sword over his shoulder. You put the picture back before your fingers could tear it into shreds. The childhood nostalgia was gone, replaced by bitterness and resentment.
'Of course, he's gone!' That voice squawked in the back of your mind. You shook your head and knocked your hand against your temple to silence it. You looked upon the walls around the kitchen, dining room, and, hell, even the bathroom had pictures of you and your parents. That childlike wonder was captured in every moment and made still. You knew it was you with the big toothy smile and always waving at the cameraman, and yet, it felt as if the kid in those pictures had long since died, and that wave was less of a hello but a goodbye. So, you raised your hand to wave at the trapped boy in the photos and walked to your room.
Walking up the stairs, you noticed your mom left pictures of your first days on the wall. Starting from the first day you were born, the first day you had your tooth fall out, your first birthday with cake smudged onto your cheek and nose. Then your first days became school pictures with your Ma and father. From pre-school, you wore a broad smile, sitting upon your father's shoulders with your Ma resting up against his side, her hand on one of your ankles. Your eyes lingered on your sixth-grade picture.
Instead of clinging to your father, you stood next to your Ma with your father no longer in sight. The wonder in your eyes was gone, and the smile so effortlessly pulled for a picture looked like it took everything. The look grew more fake with each photo until you reached the second floor.
You furrowed your brow, pausing when you noticed boxes outside one door. Some even stacked on top of one another. You felt your feet move before your mind could process what was happening. As the door slowly opened, a single thought managed to slip out, 'Hey... isn't this my room?'
What should've been a nostalgic trip of seeing the walls of colorful graffiti, making your bedroom look like a mural. In specific spots with your favorite movie and TV show posters, the bookshelves filled to their max capacity with fiction, comic books, and manga: a few were not even removed from their sleeves. Your hand-made action figures of many fandoms are proudly displayed in your curio cabinet next to your life-sized plushie of a Sleeplax.
Yet, it was all gone. The walls looked to have repaired the small holes in the pushpins from the posters. Your walls, once unique and artistic in design, were replaced with a solid peach color. In place of your bookshelf, a desk with stacking letter trays held colorful paper, organized from paper shade to size to even strength. A book titled "A Dummies Guide to Origami" was perfectly centered on the desk.
Instead of your curio cabinet and Sleeplax stood a mannequin. You didn't break eye contact with it as you slowly opened the closet behind you and shoved it inside in one swift motion. You shuddered before feeling your tense shoulders droop before walking over to the bed pressed up against the wall. You pushed the boxes on the bed onto the floor before falling onto it with your eyes closed.
Your confusion turned into accusations and anger. Why would she get rid of all traces of you!? Did she really not want you here? Where did she put all your old things? Were they hurting her? Why? Why?! Why?!
You took a sharp breath before opening your eyes and felt the gasp that involuntarily ripped itself from your vocals.
Stars.
"Careful, boy." Your Ma's sweet voice came from below as you stuck out your tongue, concentrating on putting the star in the perfect spot, "I want you to see these stars, not any concussion stars!" She finished her warning before you slowly climbed down.
You clapped your tiny hands together before letting out an "It's done!" in a pitch a bit too high. Your Ma chuckled and patted the space next to her on the bed. "Come here, I wanna show you something."
You nodded, walking over and climbing up onto the bed. After a moment of struggling and an assist from your Ma, you lay next to her, both eyes looking up at the ceiling.
The moment the lights turned off, you couldn't help but feel the childlike wonder light up just like the stars upon your ceiling. "They're glowing mama! They're actually glowing!" You squealed out your excitement, pointing to a constellation, "The Little Dipper looks perfect!"
Your Ma chuckled and pointed to another constellation that you put together: "I like that one. It looks really pretty! Like a bear." She smirked at you, which caused you to gape at her: "That is not a bear; that's Leo! That is a lion, silly!"
Your Ma chuckled, pulling you close to her chest. You could feel and hear her heart beat in its steady rhythm, and it made you feel safe being so close.
"You know why I love stars?" the question made you look up. " Because they're pretty?" you asked. She chuckled, "Oh, that they are." Her voice sounded distant, and her eyes lived in a dream of whimsy.
"It's because they're safe, " she responded. You couldn't help but giggle: "Nuh-uh! They explode, Mama. Like boom!" You put your hands together and threw them out, landing on your back onto the bed. She couldn't help but chuckle: "Oh, you're very clever," she chuckled, ruffling your hair.
"You're right, but sometimes they disappear, even after they've been with you for so long." She looked away from the stars and out of the window, "and even though they traveled so far away... I can still see them burning bright without me."
You frowned, sitting up and tilting your head. "Are we still talking about stars, Mama?" you asked, making her turn to look at you. The glow of the moon lit up her face, and for the first time, you recognized that look as one of weary.
"Yes, my darling child," she smiled, pulling you close to her chest and resting her head on top of yours.
"I love the stars."
You felt a tear roll down your temple and into your ear as you recalled every constellation you and your Ma had created together, preserved and carefully protected under the renovations.
Did she still look at the stars in your absence? Another tear rolled down your temple and landed on your pillow. Does she still love the stars?
Pings: @sweetstephstuff, @deldemon84
and hello to you: Fay, Mango, and Ian 👋🖖
If you want to be added to the pings for the next installment, please ask! 🖤
Star Border created by @saradika / @saradika-graphics. Morpheus's eye border is created by me
One day, you opened your mailbox after an exhausting day at work. You retrieved an envelope that smelt of a familiar acquaintance back from your youth. In careful, flowery calligraphy was an invitation back to your sleepy hometown.
A high-school reunion.
You looked down at the envelope in your hand, your lips creasing into a frown. You couldn't help but breathe in the scented letter another time.
The iris's sweetness complimented the cherry blossoms' subtlety and the florality of the heliotrope. To tie it all in a package bow was the cleanliness of the aldehydes that prevented the perfect scent from being too powerful or too bland: a true goldilocks.
The person behind the scent was someone you were not excited to see. However, it did make sense that a diva would find a scent that matched her quintessential flawless life.
"Well, that's a loaded story in your hands." The taxi driver's eyes were peering at you in the rear-view mirror with a searching look. You couldn't help but shield the invitation like a young boy caught looking through a Playboy magazine. "What's it to you?"
The driver gave a low, gruff chuckle, "Pardon me for the size of my nose," he turned on his blinker to enter the highway while making a final adjustment to his rear-view mirror, "In my line of work, I have come to value the green paper less and less." You noticed he was looking at the invitation with a gleam, "Stories are priceless entertainment, and I prefer those over some lousy tips anyway."
You couldn't help but smile, "A fellow bargainer?" He let out a raspy chuckle that only years of smoking could achieve. "The kids love a good story, especially about those Scabbards!"
"You like the Scabs?" You asked the man, who raised an eyebrow. "I only answer loaded questions when I get context." He wasn't very subtle, eyeing the envelope like a kid on Christmas.
"I don't know... it's personal.." You muttered awkwardly, looking out the window to see the various cars fly by. The driver let the silence drag on for a few minutes before clearing his throat. "If you tell me your story, this ride is on me."
You looked at him, sure that your mouth was on the floor. "But Sir!" you exclaimed, "It's already been two hours and still two to go! You know how much money you'd be losing with an offer like that?"
The man chuckled simply, "I told you before that stories are priceless. They are the fuel to keep me going."
"But what about gas?" You questioned.
He simply shrugged, "This chunker is vegan anyway; it needs that special charge treatment rather than ol' reliable." He looked back at you in the mirror and gave a bushy eyebrowed wink, "A bargainer recognizes its own."
You felt your back fall back into the seat, a little overwhelmed, but the creases on your lips lifted, and you couldn't help but smile.
"It's a high-school reunion." You started, causing the man to let out a "ho-ho!" of laughter. He didn't interrupt, even turning down the radio to let you explain.
"I graduated from Mountain Ridge Academy about..." You blinked and muttered, "God... has it already been ten years?"
The man chuckled, "Time really sneaks up on you. Mountain Ridge, you say?" He grabbed a piece of gum and stuffed it into his mouth. You didn't ask to bum a piece since you recognize it to be Nicorette gum. "Say, isn't that where most of them Scabbards graduated a few years back?"
You nodded, "About ninety percent were Scabs; I wasn't one of them. I wasn't cursed to be one."
He let out a mixture of a scoff-laugh. "Cursed? Now that answers your side of the loaded question." You couldn't help but feel offended, "I don't hate them! Besides, to be a Scab means to be cursed! I enjoy being completely human."
The old man chewed on the right side of his mouth while he listened to you vent your frustration. "I never said you did, friend."
You couldn't help but scoff, "I guess you were a shrink in your day, too, then?" He smirked, proudly tapping his chest, "I'm a taxi driver, right?" His easygoing demeanor melted your anger away.
You sighed, "It's just.. they are so.." You frowned. "Passionate? Motivated?" The man asked. You let the words bounce around before letting them mull over.
"I.. I guess so." You looked down at the envelope, "They all seemed to have an intense drive, ready to make the world theirs." You frowned, "Guess it was easy to feel superior to us."
The man hummed, "I believe you have a lot to look at yourself." You crossed your arms, "What does that even mean?" He didn't answer that question, but he did answer another.
"I believe what you call Scabs are not as privileged as what you may have believed then and possibly do now." He smiled, looking at the envelope once more before fixing his eyes on the road, "Maybe this reunion is exactly what you need."
He turned up the radio and shut off his taxi meter.
Note from Morph;
This story is heavily inspired by the game, "Boyfriend Dungeons" with my own twist, characters, and even different lore regarding the "Scab[bard]s".
This story is my take on a genderless y/n structure and a romance that will explore various different types of relationships. The person behind this account is three gay rats in a trenchcoat, so read at your own caution.
No smut. Only angst.
If you wish to keep up with the story, please ask for an @ in comments. Thank.
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