and i cannot control it (the way you're making me feel) | patpran oneshot

and i cannot control it (the way you're making me feel)

He didn't care because it's common for the geese to roam around campus, at least around these buildings. Pat's not really sure how far the geese travel.

Anyway, he only grew worried once he walked inside the engineering building. As he started to bask in the cool air conditioning, he heard webbed-feet waddling behind him.

He stood still, all of the tiny hairs on his arms standing up.

The noise stopped, but Pat knew he heard it. He turned and the goose was behind him, its black-eyed gaze staring into his own eyes.

Shivering, he searched his pockets for any lingering food, but found nothing. So he squatted down ("Easily," he adds to Pran, boasting about his fitness) and asked the goose, "What do you want?"

Instead of replying, the goose nipped at Pat.

Luckily he backed away just in time. He pointed his finger in the goose's face. "That's not nice!"

The goose hissed and then nipped again. This time it managed to graze Pat's finger.

("Oh, so that's why you have toilet paper wrapped around it," Pran says, looking at Pat's injury.

"Don't interrupt me!" Pat replies, getting back to his tale of woe.)

Pat jumped away from the goose with a shriek and looked at his finger. He pulled away before it could do too much damage, but it started to bleed. Pat could never stand the sight of blood, so he rushed to the first public bathroom he could find, goose be damned.

When he got there he washed and wrapped his finger as fast as he could. He turned to leave and, of fucking course, the was goose standing below the hand dryer. Pat jumped and went to point his finger again, but then clutched it to his chest. "Does privacy mean nothing to you?!"

The goose hissed.

Pat rolled his eyes, still at a loss on what to do.

That's when the door opened and someone came in, swaying a little with a whistle on their lips, their ponytail bouncing joyfully—

Until they saw the goose and their whistle fizzled out as they jumped so hard their windbreaker sounded like a crushed plastic bag.

Korn looked from the goose to Pat. Then back to the goose. Then back to Pat. "Do I wanna know?" he asked, his thick eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't even know!" Pat shouted exasperatedly. "They keep following me and they bit me and I don't know what to do," he whines, adding on a little whimper at the end.

Korn hummed, putting his hand to his chin and stroking an imaginary beard. A moment passed and his expression broadened as if something clicked into place. He opened his mouth and said, "I... really gotta piss."

Pat grumbled as Korn carefully walked around the goose to a urinal, but when Korn got there he looked back at the animal and decided a stall was best.

The goose didn't care, its only focus was on Pat.

Pat huffed and leaned against the sink counter, squinting his eyes at the goose. Is it planning something? Is it even a real goose? Thoughts swarmed through his head, images of robotic geese and a person controlling it– ("Pat, cut to the chase," Pran says, lightly pushing Pat's shoulder. Pat squints at Pran, but continues anyway.)

A second later Korn was out of the stall and washing his hands. He started to walk to the hand dryer, but paused, making eye contact with the goose. He turned to Pat and began wiping his hands on his pants and he said, "Okay, I think I know what's happening."