The Tale of the Mansion

The Kitchen

Cw: blood
Tw: Internal homophobia, flashbacks, homophobia, the f slur used in a derogatory manner. And yes, I can reclaim it.

A shattered cup sits on ground, the puddle of tea spreading across the floor. It was an eery silence, almost disturbing. There were shards of the cup that once remained. Mr. Cheese stood in shock as he watched the liquid flow.

"I-" He blinks away his shock, going to pick up the glass. He accidentally cuts his finger, and he watches the blood spread into the tea left on the floor. Vivid... Like what I imagined.

The red stood out from the tea on the floor. He wiped the blood from his hand onto his dirty ass jeans, cleaning up the tea. A cold hand goes on his and he froze. Within the second, the sensation was gone. He puts the glass in the garbage as his blood runs cold. Something is very wrong here and I have to find out what.

He sighed. He still had unpacking to do. A lot of it. He gently brings out the glass figures his mother had, one of her prized possessions. She had gotten them from his friends father, who he had never really liked.

Within the box of glass, there was an old photo, worn with age and an intentional tear down the middle. It was of Mr. Cheese, no, Emmental and his very best friend at the time. He hadn't heard from him in years.

The thoughts of his friend made him angered in a way. A cold way, that didn't bring the warmth he used to feel for that friend. That friend had left one day, and never talked to him again. I wish I hated you. You hurt me, but I still love you. And I always will. Even if you never come back.

Tears fell down his face and he wiped them. "It's childish.... But I thought we'd be besties fowever." He sighed again, continuing to clean. He throws the old photo in the trash, and leaves the room. He leaves the box deserted and decided to call his mom.

"Hey... Mama." Mr. Cheese says softly. They talk for a bit, Mr. Cheese relaxing quite a bit. "Yeah... It's going well... It feels rather lonely, though. I still miss him." He continues to talk and soon the two hangs up.

That same, lonely feeling haunts him, much like his past. His friends, his foes, his crooked hometown that he somehow still missed. He really did miss it, even if it never treated him well.

Even if he was never treated well for being himself. His mind goes into a flashback and he stands, blankly. Despite his blank stare, a lot ran through his brain.

"Faggot!" The kid sat next to him muttered, during the last period of the day. His blood ran cold. He wasn't safe. He was never safe. Not in this town.

Another insult, another memory.

Suddenly he was back in his English class, casted as an outsider. There was a talk about prejudice happening. A blond girl raised her hand.

God, he hated that girl.

"I have prejudice against gay people!" She says suddenly. Murmurs of agreement fill the classroom.

"I agree, I was just too scared to say." Another kid says, who he thought was half decent says. More murmurs spread throughout the class.

Is that why my bestie left? Because I'm a queer? Mr. Cheese's blood ran cold at the thought and he sat down, fear making him unable to move much. Sometimes I wish I was straight, but I'm not. And I love myself even so.

He wished he could be loved by his town, as much as he loved it. But, there was instead something wrong with the village. Instead of being welcomed, he was shunned. A child not welcomed by the village will burn it down to feel it's warmth. And that's what he wished he could do. But, he loved his town too much. It was his home, despite the torment he faced. He missed it, even if it hurt him so much.

Even if you left me, I wonder how you're doing. I wonder if you're well. If you're still alive. Mr. Cheese tried to gather his still racing thoughts. He looks around again. A faint figure was seen once again.

"Show yourself! If you are real, show yourself to me. Your true self!" Mr. Cheese yelled. "Make me see you!"

"And what if I don't?" A voice returns his message, only a shadow proving it was their.

"Then I will make you!" Mr. Cheese yelled, throwing an object at the being in his room. "Who are you?!"

"That is for you to find out. Perhaps play a little nicer and we'll see, hm?" A sarcastic tone leaked into the voice and Mr. Cheese growled.

"I don't see why you're fucking with me," Mr. Cheese huffed, crossing his arms.

"I'm just not comfortable showing myself to you right now." The voice says, and the feeling of it's presence goes away.

Mr. Cheese looked ahead, feeling stumped about the voice. What the fuck was that? And what does this voice want with me? Is it going to hurt me? It it a ghost, a spirit? Or was it my own mind. I'm going nuts. Bonkers. Whatever the word is. I-

His thoughts are interrupted as he passed out onto the ground, mid-unpacking.