𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐒

16|| 𝙂𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙁

Schlatt told me he thinks of himself as a whore. Hes even dabbled in prostitution, he said. Head in the bathroom at the 8th grade formal with his best friend for a snickers bar. I dont think hes a whore, he appreciated this statement.

It's hot in my room, yet I have no plans to remove the blankets from our bodies. Dawn light is fluttering in through the window. I wish I stay here forever, yet I know this is sadly, unlikely. I have responsibilities, like doing the dishes. And.. Eating.

I sigh gently and rest on cheek on Schlatts head. He shifts a bit but not enough to rouse his into consciousness. I feel blessed to be here. His head is on my chest, an arm wrapped around my body. Almost like a side hug. I'm sure theres a fancy name for this.

"Hi Wilbur." I hug Schlatt closer to me an almost a protective way as a voice sounds in the doorway, I ease when I realize its only Tommy, tiredly clutching a stuffed dog in one hand and rubbing his eye with the other.

"Thomas." I give him a little nod. I'm not particularly worried if Tommy sees us, him and Tubbo cuddle all the time, I doubt he'd question if Schlatt and I did it.

"Toby in'sit awake yet." He yawns "So lonely."

"Why not wake him up?" Its only like, 6:29.

"He would be very sad if I did that." He shrugs, dragging his feet over to the bed.

I watch him crawl next to me us and lay his back against me on the opposite side of Schlatt. He cranes his neck to smile sleepily at me before playing with his little toy dog.

"Nice dog." I comment.

He nods slowly, humming sleepily "Yes." He smiles "I like him alot."

"Dave gott'em for me at the-the Wallmart and he said it was so I remembered him after left." He mummers.

"Thats nice of him." I once bought Tommy one of those beanie boo things for his for his 3rd birthday, then, later, in an act of rebellious teenage angst I twisted its head off and gave it back to him. Luckily, he can't remember anything before his 4th birthday from later incidents.

Tommy lets out a quiet 'mhm' and continues to fumble with his dog toy in peace. I rest my hand on Tommys belly to semi-embrace him, it seems appropriate.

"Is Dave going to die?" I almost have to double take on this question.

"Pardon?"

"This is the same thing that happened to mom." Hes staring off into space a bit "Dad said she would come back any day. I was really excited. He said that she was just going to be away for a bit."

This isn't entirely dads fault. He was guided by grief. Most people go through the seven stages of grief, yet hes been seeming to circulate between 1, 2 and 4.

"You guys said he was going away and would visit sometime." He mummers "Its going to happen again, isn't it?" He hugs the dog, he looks devastated. I think hes thought this over for awhile, and is now just almost ready to accept it.

"He isn't going to die." I state "Hes just going to college, he'll definitely come visit you. That man really loves you."

Its true. I genuinely can't remember a time when Dave didn't fret over Tommy. He used to leap at any opportunity to help take care of the child, then happily tell me about it like it was the highlight of his day.