BUGBOY | DORBYN [DISCONT.]

11

halfway through the week.

thankfully, corbyn's bullies hadn't come across him since monday. and he felt that the bio test went well.

it was weird to have a regular week.

he opened the back door, parking lot bare and quiet, besides the occasional car on the main road that'd pass by. the handle was cold, metallic surface yet another reminder that winter was coming, and he should probably carry gloves with him more often.

corbyn followed the same procedure of leaving his shoes at the door, alongside his bag. he traded his jacket for an apron on the coat rack, knowing fair-well nobody was there, not even the janitor.

he didn't have homework, and, while he could watch the butterflies, he wanted to be productive.

the thought brought him to shuffle into the janitor's closet, struggling with pulling the broom from its stuck position beside the cart. there was barely any light, too, and he now questioned how the janitor was able to maneuver around the close-quarters.

alas, the light switch was faulty. the poor bulb above his head blinked when he tugged on the string, causing dust to disperse into the air as it swung. when was the last time the janitor cleaned his own room?

there've been days when corbyn slept for too long in the butterfly exhibit, and the janitor would wake him up and remind him to go home for dinner. or, they'd run into each other when one entered and the other exited, he was a nice guy.

so, corbyn wanted to help him today. if he could sweep up the floors than it'd be one less job for the janitor.

the broom, when removed, beat against a shelf, and corbyn experienced a momentary panic as the shelves belongings began to whirl and rattle.

corbyn froze in his tracks, hearing the familiar squeal of the back door echo throughout the room. moments before he was frustrated with the little light source, but now he'd been more than grateful.

"hello?"

no, goodbye. it was a man's voice, but it didn't sound like the janitor's. were they supposed to be inspected today? no, his mom would've told him about it.

he leaned back, hand landing onto the cart. maybe, if he waited in here, they'd leave. right?

what kind of robber says hello?

who the hell wants to rob an insectarium?

he brought his foot back, considering to crouch down and wait it out. if it were a robber, per se, they wouldn't' have come here for the chemicals in the back, right?

the cart rolled, bumping into the back wall with the slosh of old mop-water and the tumble of paper towel rolls.

fuck, fuck, there's footsteps coming near. what am i supposed to do?

his hands gripped at the broom, debating whether the staff or the bristled end would be better.

when the door opened, he panicked, eyes closed and arms swinging as the staff met his waist. a slight backfire, but, better than nothing.

the bristled head of the broom whacked against a solid surface, hearing a groan filter into his ears. he squinted, preparing to hit the stranger again before their hand clamped onto the handle.

"what the fuck?"

the same words chimed in corbyn's mind, getting a glimpse at the intruder. or, whatever he could pick out, from the bright lighting behind him.

"...daniel?"

daniel held up a hand, and corbyn felt his grip loosen from the broom. he stepped over, opening the door wider to find that he was alone.