Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I hear the soft clicking of cameras taking pictures nearby as I walk on the sidewalk, a singular broken heel in my right hand and the heel drenched in pee with my other hand. I tripped, and the heel split right off, and a dog walking down the street thought the shoe was the perfect spot to pee. Dumb dog. The clicking continues and I turn to look in the direction of the cameras. 

I squint as the cold New York wind whips my tear-stained face. I just got fired from my dream job as a turtle photographer. Budget cuts, they told me. No one was buying my pictures of turtles posing as iconic paintings like the Mona Lisa or that one fanart of Sonic and Mario kissing. My pictures were remarkable. I want to keep reminiscing on my work but I accidentally bump into a photographer while lost in thought.

There is a long row of paparazzi waiting for someone to walk out the movie theater entrance doors, but I don't know who. I stop walking and wait behind a bald photographer with a full beard. It looks like his hair doesn't understand that it's supposed to grow on his head and not his chin and neck. I would ask him who is coming out of the movie theater, but he glares at me when I step close to him like he thinks I'm going to steal his spot to take a picture of whoever is inside. 

"There he is!" I hear one of the photographers yell as he squats and takes position. The rest of the paparazzi look around for the celebrity and move their necks and start to take more pictures. 

The doors open, and there he is. There. He. Is. Red M&M, walking next to Chris McLean from the hit reality t.v show Total Drama Island . My eyebrows scrunch together as I scowl at the short red thing. That stupid red thing whom I will not name.

The paparazzi keep yelling more comments and trying to get the duo's attention, "Look here, Mr. McLean," and "Over here, Senor M&M!" I scoff and try to walk away while secretly resenting the duo but a mob overheard the paparazzi's comments and decided to surround and crowd the sidewalk, trapping me in between smelly bodies and screaming voices. People jumped and hit one another to get a glimpse of the celebrities. I tried to escape, to leave the mob. I doubt that red M&M would see me in the mass of the crowd, but I would rather die than risk him seeing me here. I don't want him to see my tear-stained face and disheveled appearance.

A girl behind me wearing an M&M shirt waves her arms and screams, "I LOVE YOU M&M!!" Red M&M turns around and smiles, we accidentally make eye contact and I look down at my shoeless feet. I pretend not to see him, and I pray he does not see me. I want to kneel on the floor and die. 

I hear Chris McLean laugh in the distance, "WHERE THE BITCHES AT?" Everyone laughs like he is a comedic God or something. "PARTY AT MY HOUSE!" He yells as if we know where his house even is. What an absolute idiot. 

Chris McLean draws out a stack of what looks like business cards from his jean pockets and begins to flick them like ninja stars out into the crowd. They jump and cheer as they all try their best to catch. The number of cards starts to dwindle from Chris McLean's hands, and the crowd becomes progressively more aggressive in their attempt to get their hands on the piece of paper. They start pushing each other and scraping at each other's faces for a card. I try to move back, but the crowd behind me keeps pushing my weak lil body forward to get closer to the pieces of paper. 

I try to step back, but the girl dripped in the M&M merch growls and barks at me. Actually barks, like a wild rabid chihuahua. I swear foam is drooling out of her mouth as she barks and screams.

My breathing feels heavy. I clench my fist around my shoes and squeeze my eyes shut. All I can focus on is the overwhelming sound of fangirls shrieking and grown men scavenging for one of McLean's cards to his infamous parties. I feel something slice against my cheek. I swear to god if that m&m rabies-infused bitch scratched me I'm gonna take her down. 

I feel blood trickle down my cheek and I wipe it against my shoulder. As I'm wiping the blood on the shoulder of my shirt, I see that I got a card. It's all eggshell white on the back, made of quality cardstock. You can tell he spent a hefty amount on this business card, but I wonder what it says. I bend over and pick it up before anyone else notices and tries to steal it from me. It feels like wealth between my fingers, a foreign feeling. I turn it over to reveal the other side. It's blank.

I flip the blank card over and over again as if I turn it around enough times something will show up. This is what everyone is pushing each other for? A blank piece of stupid fucking cardstock paper. I look up and Red m&m is gone, but Chris is waving and lavishing in the attention of the crowd. 

I try to leave the crowd again, but the crowd is only getting bigger and rowdier. I do what I have to do. I throw my heels at the closest people next to me so their moment of pain grants me enough time to slip by. I make sure the pee-fused heel hits the girl with the m&m shirt. It's still not enough to grant my release of the brainwashed-Chris-adoring mob. I wave the card in the air and yell. I don't even say anything. I just do my best caveman animalistic outcry and throw the card to my left, this gets everyone's attention. The wind, however, must hate me because it blows the little piece of shitty fucking paper right back next to my foot and everyone jumps at the opportunity to get the card. They jump and pull and scratch and yelp and I am pushed out of the way into oncoming traffic a few feet from the sidewalk. 

I can't move back onto the sidewalk. I try to get into the crowd but no one notices me. I whip my head in the other direction, ready to cross the street to safety, but a red convertible doesn't see me and slams into me.

Chapter Text

There is a pounding in my skull like it has its heartbeat. It feels like there is a little rat inside of my skull and it's banging its little rodent fists against my cranium because I gave up eating cheese and dairy products due to my IBS. My eyelids feel so heavy I can't open them, but I do hear quiet murmuring and soft beeps of a machine. I don't remember where I am, and I feel too drowsy to care. I hear murmuring but I can’t process what the voices are saying. It sounds like a man and a woman.

“CHeeeeese,” I groaned. 

“What?” A man with a deep voice asks. I muster all of my strength to open one of my eyes. “Oh she’s awake, I thought it was the walking dead. Can’t have another zombie walking around. Almost ended my career” the man chuckles. He puts a hand on my pounding head and nods. “No broken bones anywhere, that’s good. Barbara take notes.”

What the fuck. I open my eyes and I gasp, the doctor is none other than famous actor Keanu Reeves. He is dressed in a lab coat, it suits him. He looks almost as good as Dr. Doofenshmirtz from the show Phineas and Ferb.
“My head is killing me,” I moan and drag a hand across my face. I wince, feeling the needles poking my arms move around when I tug my arm up. 

“Oh okay,” Keanu Reeves mutters. “Barbara check y/k’s medical history.” I look over at Barbara and see that it is actually Tom Holland in a wig-wearing a cheap skimpy Halloween costume of a nurse. She is standing reclined against a counter next to a sink.

“Are you Tom Holland?” I ask Barbara. 

“No,” Barbara/Tom Holland asks with a very offended look on their face. Then he grabs his neck and rips his face off like a masked villain from scooby doo. Barbara/Tom Holland is actually Emma Watson! “I’m actually Emma Watson luv. I’m studying for my next role as Tom Holland as a skimpy nurse.”

“Oh, Okay.” I nod and Keanu Reeves keeps poking at my face. “Wait, does that mean that neither of you has a medical education?” They both look at each other and freeze. 

“BARBARA GET THE COTTON SWABS!” Actor Keanu Reeves yells and they both start rummaging through the room’s drawers and stuffing their pockets and, in Barbara’s case, her bra, full of whatever they can get their hands on. Then they both jump headfirst out of the closed window next to my bed, shards of glass splattering all over the floor. Some glass gets onto my bed, which is good cause I was starting to get hungry. I grab a handful of glass shards in my hand and plop it into my mouth. I start munching and the crunch of glass in my mouth feels dope. I make sure to grind the glass to dust before swallowing, but the blood in my mouth helps to wash down the bigger glass shards in my mouth. What a delicacy.

A real doctor must have heard the window break because he opens the door enough to pop his head in and ask, “Is everything all right?”

“No actually-”

“Okay well that's good,” the doctor cuts me off and leaves. I lay there in shock, what kind of hospital is this? I carefully stand up and try not to move the needles in my arms. I move my body, one body part at a time, slowly and carefully, but then I see that my leg is in a cast. It’s broken. I don’t care, I still try to get up until I am standing next to the window. Jumping out of the window doesn’t seem like too bad of an idea. I wouldn’t have to pay for my medical bills and the medical service is terrible. If Keanu Reeves and Barbara/Tom Holland/Emma Watson could jump out then I can too. Out the window, the room I am staying in is three stories up. There aren't even any bushes to break the fall, just concrete. This will definitely worsen my already broken leg.

I am still considering jumping when another doctor comes in. “Miss y/k?” He asks while looking down at his clipboard. He looks up, “What are you doing standing up? Your leg is broken, lay down immediately.” It would be rude to not follow his instructions, so I flop onto the floor and accidentally knock myself out.

When I awakened for the second time today, the doctor was staring at me, his face was two inches away from mine. “Are we about to kiss right now?” I smirk. The doctor’s face shoots away from mine.

“No,” he says seriously. He doesn’t add anything after that. He just stares at me, and the only noise in the room is the window whispering into the room from the still broken window. The silence is making me uncomfortable and it doesn’t help that he is just staring at me. “Are you allergic to apples?” He asks out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Are you. Allergic. To apples?” He makes a popping sound when he says the last word.

“Uhh, yes.” He turns and writes something down on the clipboard that is on the counter.

“You have to move out of the city. Doctor’s orders.” He hands me a sheet of paper. The paper reads ‘Move out city >:(‘ and it is written in green crayon, it looks like a note written by a kindergartener. 

“Why? I can’t just leave. My life is here.” My voice whines. I sound desperate, pathetic, even to my own ears.

“You are allergic to apples and are living in The Big Apple .” He glares at me, “Don’t be stupid and do what’s good for your health.” He turns around and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hate treating you idiots,” he mutters under his breath and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

I stare at the door, waiting for the doctor to come back and laugh and say it was a prank. That I was on John Quinonez’s show “What Would You Do?” I wait for another five minutes, listening to the monitor beep and my shallow breaths. I can’t believe I have to leave New York, I don’t have anywhere else to go. My old hometown is out of the question, too many memories I wish I could repress, too many people who blocked me because I wouldn’t stop asking if they could buy me a hotdog.

I’ll find a new place. With that settled, I sit up and carefully remove the needles in my arms and slowly wobble to the door to leave this stupid hospital. Beads of sweat roll down to my hairy shoulders. I feel something soft smush against the weight of my foot and I gasp as I fall backward and hit my head, knocking myself out. 

Chapter Text

“There, there,” a calming, motherly voice coos while gently patting my head. I don’t know who it is, but my head naturally gravitates toward the somehow familiar hand that is petting me without my consent. It’s almost instinctive this gravitation, like a moth drawn to a blazing house fire. I know the consequences of this type of vulnerability and, yet, every centimeter of my broken body craves with a famishing hunger to be near this person. No amount of intimacy will ever be enough, I know that to be true. I attempt to squint my eyes open. It’s the Red m&m wearing gloves that look like human hands. 

“WHAT THE HELL-” I screech and push him away from me. I use so much force that he falls down and rolls until he slams into the brick wall. The impact of him colliding into the wall makes the whole house shudder, and two sharp awards fall from a shelf right above him and impale him. “OH MY GOD,” I scream and leap over to where he is impaled on the floor.

His eyes are shut, and I don’t see him breathing. I think I just killed the Red m&m. Tears fill my eyes. We have so much history together, I don’t want to be the one to kill him. At least not the one that ends up going to jail and charged for murder.

My hands start to shake and I can’t stop the sobs that come rolling out of me as my body becomes rigid with the paralyzing blend of fright and sorrow. I cup my hands to my mouth to muffle my growing sobs and my vision becomes blurry from the tears that don’t seem to stop flowing. My body shudders, and I barely have the courage to poke red m&m but somehow I do. I press the tip of my finger against the sharp red shell that is probably colored from crushed-up beetles and I feel him slowly shake. The shaking is slow, and then Red m&m is laughing so hard I see liquid that I think is pee start coming out of nowhere from under him. Red m&m doesn’t have any genitalia so I have absolutely no clue where the pee is coming from. 

I slap him so hard that his red shell gets a tiny crack in it. “WHAT THE FUCK,” I scream and slap him again. “WHAT THE FUCK!” I am too stunned to talk, my emotions feel like they were yanked out of my body and now I am left in a stunned, emotionless shell of a person. I pinch the middle of my nose and shut my eyes. “That’s not funny,” I tell him between clenched teeth. “I got so scared that’s so fucked up I thought you actually died.”

I had forgotten how squeaky Red m&m’s voice was, it reminded me of Alvin and the chipmunk inhaling helium. “It was so funny you should have seen your face,” he cried out laughing and slapping his weird noodly knees. “You did actually crack my shell and took a chunk of chocolate off so we have to fix that,” he tells me while he rubs off the dust of the crushed red shell. He stands up in the puddle of piss and walks away, leaving wet footprints leading through into a doorway. 

I haven’t been in this house since childhood, and it is decorated drastically different, but I still know that this is Red m&m’s childhood home. The wooden floors remain the same shade, but now they are creakier with age. The walls are still the same shade of dark green, except at random spots it is peeling and you can see the light shades of vomit orange paint that was first painted decades ago. The picture of our stupid childhood nemesis’s house on fire is still framed on the wall, but this time the frame has Donald Duck flipping the house off, and saying “FUCK YOU!” 

I remember the simpler times here, seeing our past selves playing around the house as if our childhood selves were ghosts haunting the house claiming territory using memories. On the torn sofa by the window, I see young mini red m&m holding me in a chokehold until I became as red as him. I was trying to pry his arms off my throat with my weak prepubescent arms while gasping for the air that wasn’t going down my windpipe. I smile to myself and chuckle. In the corner of the living room, I see teenage Red m&m and I huddling and whispering to each other talking about burning down Billy’s house. We drew maps of his house and the neighborhood, discussed possible alternatives and backup plans. We never got caught. 

I walk into the hallway, to see what other memories I can glance at. Red m&m’s bedroom door is slanted open, enough to see his bed. Enough to remember us making out on his bed, his sugar red lips leaving a coat of slick wet sugar down my neck, his gloved mickey mouse lookin hands on my thigh.

“Y/K? Where are you?” he yells from the kitchen, and the memory vanishes as if it were never there. I would prefer if that memory vanished forever, if I didn’t remember it then it would be like it never happened. But the worst thing is that it did happen, and I have to carry that with me for the rest of my life.

“Umm,” I mutter and look down at my feet, “just in the living room.” I drag my feet, and it’s then that I realize I am not wearing any shoes. I don’t know how I didn’t notice the cold sticky wooden floors. The floor is so sticky it makes a thwomp sound every time I lift my foot. So I just thwomp, thwomp, thwomp my way over to the kitchen.

“You hungry?” Red m&m asks while mixing pancake batter. He looks so cute like that, if Remy the rat from Ratatouille were anyone it would be Red m&m. 

“A bit,” I say and sit down next to the limited edition miniature barbie dining set. (Red m&m never had a dining table, he preferred the small barbie play set because he said it added more class and cost the same as a boring regular dining table). 

“Here,” he said and threw me a pancake without even looking in my direction. “Eat up banana girl.” He threw another pancake in my direction but this time it landed on the floor.

“Banana girl?” I ask, reaching an arm out to pick the pancake up from the sticky (?) kitchen floor. 

“Yeah,” he says and takes a fistful of pancake batter and puts it in his mouth, “You slipped on a banana in the hospital and the doctor was tired of you so he kicked you out. Your parents are out in Florida so they called me to pick you up from the hospital.”

“There is no way that is allowed,” I tell him in shock. There is no way that can be legal. I stand up to go throw the fallen pancake into the trash but Red m&m puts a pancake-covered glove on my shoulder to stop me. I look into his stupid chocolate eyes.

“I covered the floor in maple syrup so I never have to worry about forgetting to have maple syrup. ‘Oh no I forgot maple syrup?’ NOPE! I got it on every inch of my floor.” Red m&m exclaimed proudly. Too proudly, what a loser,

I push his hand off of me and go back to sitting on the floor. I take a bite of the pancake and moan in delight when I taste the chocolate inside the pancake. Wait- I spit it out and stare in shock at the chewed-up chocolate pancake “RED, THERE’S CHOCOLATE IN THE PANCAKES!” 

“A little chocolate never killed anyone,” he mutters to himself almost as if it were an inside joke.

“Yes, it does! It kills dogs!” I stare at him in shock. Is he okay with me eating chocolate in front of him? Is he okay with me eating chocolate at all? 

“Look,” he says, picking up a chocolate chip pancake from the syrupy wooden floor and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “Tastes good,” he smiles with chocolate bits smeared over his smile. 

“I’m gonna go take a walk,” I say stiffly and walk outside without blinking. I think a fly lands on my eye for a second and I still don’t blink. I might have walked into a wall but I don’t really know. My body moves on its own, automatically. I am a spectator to myself. I don’t even remember going outside, all I can think of is the vivid memory of Red eating a pancake filled with chocolate, chocolate drool slowly seeping down his chin and staining his white gloves. 

A rustling in a bush in front of Red’s house distracts me, but not enough to wake me from this horrendous nightmare.

Chapter Text

When I start to feel like myself again, I walk around the familiar streets of Red’s and my childhood neighborhood. I haven’t been in this neighborhood since my dog died, and my parents ig, but most importantly my dog Bennett. What a good boy he was. He always liked the peanut butter off my toes, he was so well trained.

I walk around the poorly built houses. They are so poor that they remind me of the dirt houses that new players in Minecraft make when they are desperate and don’t have any resources. Some of the houses look like shacks.

 One of these shacks looks exactly like Shrek’s bathroom, it's that small and terribly put together. I go up to the house and knock on the only door, and pray that the person who I remember still lives here.

I wait two seconds and hold my breath. If I can’t see him I don’t know what I’ll do, I may as well pass out. Another two seconds. This time I knocked with my head, I heard it’s good luck to do that on the news and the news never lies. I slap my face with my hand so hard it's sure to leave an imprint on my face, again, for good luck.

The door creaks open a sliver, “hello?” It’s my childhood best friend Andrew Garfield! Applause and cheering sounds like from sitcoms when a special guest appears begin to ring throughout the sky. What the? I look around at the sky. Where could the sound be coming from? “You okay, babe?” Andrew asks when opening the door is fully open. 

“Yea, I just,” I mutter and rub a hand across my face, “I’m kind of tired.” I look up at him and I see him softly smiling at me. “You look good… it's been a while.” 

“Yea it has,” he says. “Do you… want to come in?” I don’t know if I should take up on Andrew’s offer. I don’t know if it’s too soon considering our past. Fuck it.

“Sure, thanks,” I say kindly and as innocently as I can muster and he closes the door behind me after I step into his house. The inside is so small it is basically the size of a small kitchen pantry. I don’t know how he does anything in this place and I can’t see anything because it is pitch black inside. There isn’t enough floor space for him to lay down so I bet he either has to sleep curled up in a ball or standing up. I’m not even sure if I can fully extend my arm in front of me.

“Hold on, let me get the light,” Andrew says and accidentally punches me in the face and the force makes me hit my head on the wall behind me. “Sorry, dear. I meant to get the light. It's a bit cramped up in here.” I hear a click next to me and the light becomes illuminated with a green-tinted light bulb.

Andrew’s arm cages me to the wall because he had to flip the light switch on. His face is so close to mine, I can see every crevice and wrinkle on his face. I feel his breath on me, it smells like pickle juice and lies.

“I miss you,” he tells me and uses the top of his head to brush my face. I feel the strands of his oily strands of hair caress my face. I get a mouthful of his hair in my mouth and gag, I can taste all the hair grease on my tongue. “Tell me you miss me, please,” he begs.

I don’t want to lie. I don’t want to toy with his emotions, plus I really only came over here for one reason. No matter our past, I have my priorities in check.

“Andrew,” I push his face gently away. “I just came here for my box,” I tell him and pat his head like a Lil puppy dog. “And then I’ll be out of your hair yet again.”

“No, please don't leave me,” he whines. “I just wanna be your dog.” He scoots a centimeter back and starts barking.

“Box. Andrew. Now.” He stops barking and turns and reaches above his head. There’s absolutely nothing above him but a small box appears in his hands anyways.

The box is small, I remember I used the best box I could find at the time. It was an old engagement box I found in the back of a dumpster while dumpster diving for some lettuce. I pull the lid up to reveal the contents of my most prized possession. The last mango juul pod.

Chapter Text

Andrew could sniff out that after I got my lovely juul pod, then I would be leaving forever. I can’t stand him, I don’t know what younger me ever saw in him. Even when I did like him long ago, there was always a layer of disgust that filled the vacancy inside of my chest as he kissed me. 

That is why when he wrapped himself and peed on my leg so he could mark me as his territory (he was really taking the dog joke seriously), the layers of disgust from so many years accumulated to my body having a physical reaction which in turn caused me to throw up all over him. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. It was Pitch Perfect throw-up scene everywhere. Chunks flew and drenched his nasty strands of hair, wet blotches blinded his eyes, splashes from my vomit honestly made his shirt a much more appealing shade of creamsicle orange. Andrew convulsed in my vomit and I used that opportunity to get out of his shack. 

I unlock Red’s front door and stomp into the kitchen. There’s a squished brown lump covering his left white glove. 

“Is that more chocolate?” I ask disgusted.

“No, that's my poop, don’t worry. No more chocolate.” He assures me. He licks his palm. “Where’d you run off to anyway?”

“Nowhere that you need to be aware of,” I reply and walk towards the living room. I lay in the middle of the sticky floor and pat the juul pod that I now have in the front of my jean pocket.

“You went to visit him, didn’t you?” Red asks, I can feel his eyes boring into my head. He doesn’t even need my answer to know I went with Andrew. Red was always the jealous type.

Before I could lie and say I wasn’t with Andrew, a loud knocking on the front door interrupts our conversation. I try to sit up, but my clothes are stuck to the floor. If I try to get up any faster, then my clothes are probably going to rip apart. 

Red comes next to me and kicks me with his entire force in the ribs and I choke as all of the wind is knocked out of me. “Lazy ass bitch,” he tells me and goes to open the door. I lay on the floor, trying to catch my breath, and I watched Red open the door to a cleaner Andrew Garfield standing at the door. Red immediately slams the door.  He walks to his room, slams the door, and he screams with so much ferocity I can just imagine the spit flying out of his mouth. I hear the creak of his door opening and he goes back to open the front door.

“What’s up Andrew?” He asks calmly.

“Is y/k here?” I panic and I hold my breath. Maybe if I don’t move while I’m stuck on the floor, then he won’t notice I am laying on the floor. Andrew peaks over Red’s head and looks directly at me. He squints at me, and I try not to blink back. “Hey… you get a new rug?” He moves his head in my direction.

“Sure,” Red says without even looking at where Andrew was pointing at with his pointy chin. “Now get out,” Red is closing the door but Andrew wedges his foot in the door.

“Not so fast bud,” he pushes the door all the way open and Red gets pushed back. “Since we are alone, might as well bring it up now.” Andrew walks in and stands right next to me. 

“Bring what up?” Red asks, grimacing at Andrew for inviting himself in. 

“You have been very…calm, considering the disappearance of your partner Yellow m&m,” Andrew gives me a small kick and then looks back at Red, “Why is that?” 

Red rubs his hands together like he is trying to moisturize his hands or something, this means he is getting nervous. Of course, no one else can tell, but I know. Why does this worry him? 

Red doesn’t reply right away, he just stands there and stares at the floor. “Everyone deals with grief differently,” he whispers.

“So grieving includes partying and posting on your Twitter during the estimated time of Yellow m&m’s death, and I quote, ‘I just killed that stupid mofo RIP to the Yellow m&m and his annoying ass #MURDERED #Subway’” 

“I was joking. It was a joke,” Red m&m says so fast it sounds like he is rapping. He went from m&m to Eminem. “We always joked about that kind of stuff. He was like a brother to me, I loved him like my own mother. Word.”

Andrew scratches his butt and I try my best not to gag. It looks like he tries to go in deeper, is he fishing for something in there? He moves his hand out of his pants and pulls out some crumpled and slightly damp pictures. “Then what is this?” He hands the pictures to Red and he freezes. I can’t see the pictures, but whatever is on there definitely proves something because Red has gone back to nervously rubbing his hands. It’s kind of gross cause he still has poop on them so he is just smearing the brown mush all over his hands.

Red tosses the pictures on the ground, “That doesn’t mean anything, it was a misunderstanding. I can explain. We had sex as a joke.”  

“That’s what they all say,” Andrew spits out. He flips around dramatically like he wishes he had a cape to emphasize the allure of his take at being a detective. He stalks to the kitchen. “If you didn’t kill the Yellow m&m, then why is there a pool of red liquid in the corner of the bathroom?!” 

“Ummm,” Red scutters over to Andrew.

“Are those… tampons? Oh . Ooh.”

“Yeah, Y/k had an accident here earlier. She was so embarrassed she left, but I thought I would clean it up by throwing a bunch of tampons on it…”

“...”

 My period was last week so I have no idea who’s blood that belongs to.

Chapter Text

Andrew left right after finding the floating tampons in the pool of (period?) blood. And Red walked straight to his room to cry. 

I ended up just slipping out of my clothes and then slowly unsticking them from the floor. Then I stomped over and kicked down Red’s door with a super cool karate kick move I learned from watching Karate Kid 2. The door wasn’t even locked I just wanted to flex real quick.

“What the fuck was that?” I stomp over to him as he lays face down on his stupid race car bed.

“Shut up,” He says into the back of his pillow. He sits up, facing the wall, and curls up his fist. He punches the pillow, then he punches it again. He punches his pillow over and over and over that the feathers start flying out. “Fuck this. Fuck you.” 

Red’s face somehow manages to get even redder than it already is and snot starts flying out of his nostrils during his fit of rage. He looks like a little baby throwing a tantrum on his seriously sexy race car bed. The feathers keep flying out and falling on the floor, but they look weird. Solid and brown, neither light nor feathery. I pick one up by pinching it between my fingers. The feathers are made out of fucking cardboard. 

“You sleep on this shit?” I ask and throw the sorry excuse of a feather at Red. 

“Yeah, they are more comfy than actual feathers.” He grabs the feather I threw at him and puts it back inside the pillow. “Plus,” he says, “I’m allergic to feathers.”

“I don’t care about that, keep that to yourself.” I grit out. “Why the fuck did you say that was my blood in the kitchen?” Andrew might find me gross for that and I won’t be able to manipulate him if he doesn’t think I am attractive. I couldn’t see his reaction to the blood so I can’t tell the extent of Andrew’s disgust. Did he believe Red that it was period blood? Does he actually think it was me? I'm fuming and my hands scrunch up as I imagine choking Red into oblivion.

“I said it was you cause there was no other excuse I could use!” He throws the pillow at my face and I dodge it, “USE YOUR FUCKING HEAD FOR  ONCE IN YOUR LIFE AND THINK YOU! FUCKING! IDIOT!”

“LITERALLY SHUT UP! EVERY TIME YOU TALK I WANT TO BASH MY HEAD INTO A WALL!” I scream and my spit flies everywhere. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU THAT MADE YOU SO FUCKING ANNOYING?”

“MY MOM DIED ASSHOLE,” Red is fuming, his hard candy shell goes from cherry-red to Scarlet red. 

“YOU NEVER EVEN HAD A MOM YOU ARE MADE OUT OF CHOCOLATE” I’m shaking and confused. Who does this motherfucker think he is?

“WELL THAT'S WHAT I WOULD HAVE SAID IF I HAD A MOM WHO DIED!”

“FUCK YOU,” I throw the pillow again but my aim is godawful and it breaks through the window and lands outside. The shattering of the window’s glass freezes us. The tension between us breaks alongside the window, and although we are not speaking, the harmony of our panting breaths becomes a silent unuttered vow written with the memories of our former selves. A vow that I will help Red with whatever trouble he is up to this time. Why would I do this even though I hate him? The answer is simple, because I still love him.

Chapter Text

In the fiery heat of our fight, I forgot to ask who’s blood it belonged to. Red pretended he didn’t hear me. I asked again later that night. His excuse for not answering me: “The more you know the more of a liability you are.”  I’ll time my questions better, ask him again tomorrow.

Before falling asleep, I went outside to go bring back the pillow, but it wasn’t there. I know that the pillow couldn’t have landed too far, so I checked the bushes, the floor. It was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t my pillow so why should I care anyway. I jumped through the broken window and tried to fit in the opening without cutting myself. I managed to get through without a scrape, I would've done great in that one show Hole in the Wall. Speaking of holes in the wall, after jumping through the window, I noticed there was a small hole big enough to look through right next to the window. It looks like someone is a Peeping Tom. 

Why would Red need a hole that looks directly into the bushes if he has a window right next to it? I shudder and fall asleep on the smelly couch, just like old times.

When I wake up, I pat my pocket and I feel the empty space where my precious mango juul pod should be. What the fuck. I run outside and check the ground to see if I dropped it in the grass and there's nothing. No, no no no no. This cannot be happening. I was gonna sell that on ebay for millions.

 I forage the nearby bushes at Red’s old creaky house like a little old forest troll with a hunchback and a long nose covered in warts, looking for mushrooms and nearby children to eat to quench my thirst for blood. I sniff and try to find traces of the lingering mango juul pod scent. As I near the seventh bush a rustling in the leaves startles me and I hiss like the old forest troll I am.

The thing inside the bushes hisses back. I get up and make a run back inside the house, almost twisting my ankles two times. I run into the kitchen, avoiding the pool of blood that is still there, and grab the broom. I sprint back to the bush and start attacking the bush with the broom with my entire force. I hit something but I still don't know what is there. I hit it so hard the broom snaps in half.

“OW!” I hear a gross British voice say.

“Ew the British!” I hit the thing inside the bushes even harder with my broken stick. Brown hair pops out of the bushes and I am crying, body shaking sobs. “I don't have any beans and toast you monster go away,” Snot is leaking into my mouth and the tears dribble out of my eyes, this is the worst thing to have ever happened to me. The snot is leaking down my neck and into my shirt. I can feel the snot trail swim and pool into my belly button and that is still not as repulsive as the accent.

“Please stop it, I can explain,” The British guy says and stands up. He is tall and he looks like he smells like old crayola crayons that have been sitting in the bottom of my backpack for the past two years. He is wearing some cool sunglasses though. I grab my stick and whack the British man in the face and the cool sunglasses break on his face. He doesn't deserve the glasses.

The pieces of the glasses fall to the floor. It turns out the guy in the bushes was Robert Pattinson. That one guy who played Edward in Twilight. I stare in awe, my mouth gaping open. The sun hits his face and his skin begins to glitter. It is so beautiful.

“Your skin glitters, are you actually a vampire?” I ask with utmost sincerity.

“No, I was just partying it up at a gay bar. The glitter just doesn't want to come off.”

I drop the stick I was gripping in my hands as a sign of peace so he knows I won’t attack him anymore. Plus the stick was giving me splinters. “Okay,” I say. “Well umm, I'm y/k.”

“I know who you are,” he says deadpan without even blinking. Just stares deeply into my soul and makes me want to die because of how awkward and weird he is.

“Okay,” I say and I look at my feet and I can still feel his gaze boring holes into the top of my big forehead. Please stop this is so awkward and I don't know what to do. A lump forms in my throat and I want to cry but I won't because I don't think I have any more tears stored because of my crying fit earlier. “Bye,” I say, still looking at the ground and I don't look back at Robert until I am almost at Red’s house. The entire time I was walking I could feel him staring at me, and when I looked back he didn’t turn away. He just kept glaring at me. I walk even faster but his glare feels more intense, it's like his death wish for me will come true if he stares hard and long enough. I reach out to open the door to Red’s house but a banana on the floor (that I didn’t notice was there) makes me slip and slam my head against the doorknob. 

I lay on the floor for a few seconds and I literally see birds flying around my head. One pink, one blue, and one green. The green one calls me a fat bitch. They are some really ugly looking birds so I close my eyes. I want to just lay there and go to sleep but I can still feel Robert watching me. His eyes roaming me with pure, tangible hatred and disgust. If he stares at me anymore I feel like his anger will manifest my body to burst in flames, as if God can hear his rage and agrees that I deserve to be burned because I made a reference to him being in the Twilight movies. 

That thought is the only thing that gives me the will to push myself up and grip the doorknob and crawl to the entrance of the house. I slam the door behind me and crawl to the window, I look through the blinds and I see Crayon Smelling Robert just staring at the door. His eyes flit to mine behind the window and he stares at me for what feels like a lifetime. As much as I wanted to look away, I couldn't, there was something off about him and I wanted to figure out what. He may be able to see the fear through my eyes, but I’ll stare right back to figure out his secrets. At least that’s what I will tell myself to feel better if I can't break away from his horrendous gaze.

He doesn't look away as he slithers back into his bush, and disappears from my sight. I move away from the window and I sit until my bones stop shaking from the thought of that man.

I walk over to Red who is sitting in the kitchen and just staring at a hole in a wall that I didn’t notice before.

“Do you remember when we got into a fight when we were younger and I ended up punching a hole in the wall?” he asks almost wistfully while not looking away at the wall. I don't say anything. We fought so much it’s hard to distinguish which fights caused what outcomes and damaged items. A shattered vase, a ripped stuffed animal, a broken heart. All the fights blend into one. If I think hard enough all the fights play as one continuous memory, one beautiful song where the final crescendo ruined my life.

I stare at the hole. Maybe he is remembering the memories of us the same way my memories came to life when I first walked into the house. My breath catches in my chest and it becomes harder to breathe. I need to leave but I can’t seem to move. 

“We fought,” Red turns to face me but I don’t look at him, “about what mario kart character was better, remember?” I shake my head. “I said baby mario and you said Daisy.”

“And I was right,” I mutter.

“Ha, you  always had shit taste.” Red chuckles to himself.

I stare at him deep and hard, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Chapter Text

I didn’t plan on staying at Red’s for that long, but Red never forced me out and there was nothing left for me in New York anymore. So I just never left. Red never pushed me out and I never made any plans to move out. He stayed in his room, I slept on the smelly couch. The least I could do was go out and buy stuff whenever he needed it. The only downside was that whenever I would walk to the store, I would always hear a bush shake and I would get so paranoid I’d start running. I don’t think I want to encounter the bushman anymore than I have to.

Today, Red has sent me on a mission to go buy tampons. Oh, this chocolate creature and his tampons. He makes me go and buy so many tampons for him that I’d think he is having his period every day. He insists he is using them because they are absorbent and clean messes better, but the pool of blood is still there and festering, proving his theory otherwise. He will not let me buy paper towels.

Well, I don’t care anymore, I need to put my foot down. I walk with my head held up high, prepared to buy paper towels. I put the money Red gave me in my front pocket and kept walking forward, mentally preparing myself for the screaming fit Red will have over the paper towels.

 I stop, there is no reason I need to prepare for an argument. Red is a stupid ass bitch boy and he’s like three and a half feet tall what is going to do? He can’t even reach my face without having to stand on something, I think that's why he is always sitting on a tall chair, trying to make himself closer to my height. Pathetic. I should just leave instead of stooping so low to be with him. We arent even technically together, I just freeload on his couch.

The leaves in a bush rustle next to me, I don’t want to make it obvious that I know Robert is in the bush so I try to walk as fast and casually as I can so it seems like I have no idea he is there. I walk past three more bushes and one of them shakes again. Oh my god can fucking teleport? Does he have an underground system that allows him to travel from bush to bush? I wouldn’t put it past him to create a complex system like that to be his creepy fucking self.

“I'm watching you,” the bushman- at least who I assume is the bushman because who else would hide in the bushes at three in the afternoon- whispers nearly soundlessly to me. My flight or flight response kicks in and I see a van approaching and stops right ahead of me. The back of the van is open and I jump right in. Better to deal with whatever I find in that van than to deal with the bushman.

Now thinking about it, it was probably not the best idea to jump into the van because I got scared from a rustling sound, but people do crazy stuff when they are afraid. I should get off. I walk towards the door to get off but the door slams shut. Shit. It's dark so I can't see anything. I splatter my hands along the walls to try and find a handle or anything that might get me out of here. I don't know where this van is headed or when they are going to stop and open the back. I try banging my hands against the door, maybe if I'm loud enough then the driver or someone outside will hear me and do something.

I keep banging on the walls but nothing is happening, I think I’m stuck. I will sit on the floor and wait, but that sounds kinda lame so nvm. Instead, I go around the back of the van and inspect the boxes that fill the van. At first, I didn't pay any attention to the boxes cause I was panicking but now I am very curious. I open the first box, it's filled with boxes of tampons. Great, exactly what I was trying to avoid. I might as well take them cause I need them, and it's free. Technically stealing but no one has to know.

I open a second box. Wine? Might as well open it and have something to drink on the long ride. I sit on the floor criss-cross apple sauce and chug the wine as fast as I can. I was drinking it so fast I swear some went up my nose. 

I can tell the van doesn't slow down for the speed bumps because when the driver hits them I jump up a little a wine sloshes onto my shirt. I do feel tipsy so I lay down, but the world still feels like it is spinning. Thankfully the van slows down and the door opens. I squint at the light from outside and who I assume is the driver, he looks like a seventeen-year-old boy just stares at me. I think he is in shock at me being back here.

I try and get up as gracefully as I can, I bump into the boxes twice and fall out of the van. I feel the soft burn in my palms as they lay flat against the asphalt. I have just scraped my palms. I crawl forward a little and walk as straight up as I can. I turn back and the kid driver is staring right at me. I give a little wave with my left hand but he doesn't do anything and just keeps staring at me. Fucking rude but whatever. Turning and waving my hand at him made me lose the small amount of balance I had and I fall straight first into a bush. 

I land on something hard and I groan. I sit up and Andrew pops out of the bush rubbing his head like a weasel popping up in one of those arcade games. The one where you have a hammer and your goal is to hit as many as you can before the time runs out. I wish I had a hammer but I don’t so I just use my hand to hit Andrew in the head over and over again. I plan to keep doing it until he disappears, but he just grabs my wrist and I have to stop. 

“Why are you hitting me? We aren’t in my bedroom yet,” he smirks and I want to break his fucking knees but honestly, I feel so dizzy that laying down on a bed does sound nice. 

“I would like you,” I say, stabbing my finger at his dumb face and swaying a little to the right, “to get drunk with me.” I pull an entire bottle of wine out of my bra because I forgot it was there until now, and I uncork the bottle with my mouth. I spit the cork onto the floor and pass him the bottle.

He grabs the bottle and takes a sniff. “Is it poisoned?” He asked me.

“No,” I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder, “but I wish I thought of that sooner.” With that, he chugs the entire bottle and I burp and puke a little at the same time. If it didn’t taste so gross I’d think it was cool.

“Can I go sleep in your bed?” I murmur into his shirt.

“Yeah, let's go,” he says and grabs my hand, leading me in the direction of his house.

I stumbled and fell multiple times, Andrew caught me about one-third of the time. So by the time we arrived at his small hell hole of a shack, I chipped my front tooth and scrapped my face, and probably bruised a lot of my body. 

Inside his house, I rest my head on his shoulder, and he rests his head on top of mine. There is no way that we can both lay down on the floor, so we have to stand and I am okay with that. He’d probably try to cuddle with me if we lay on the floor. I don’t know how to feel about that.

My eyes feel so heavy, my head feels like it is swaying. It's a good thing that my head is laying on Drew’s shoulder cause I’m not sure if I’d be able to lift it. “Andrweww, your shoulder makess a good pillow.”

“THanks babygirl,” he replies. I giggle, I hate him but he is so annoying. I drag my head up and rest my forehead on his forehead. I stare at him and he looks so fucking gross, it looks like a fisheye view and his face looks disproportional and greasy. His eyes flutter up to mine, and his face is all red from the alcohol. He reminds me of Red because they almost are the same color at the moment.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says.

I gently press my lips against his, and I open my mouth to gag because his breath smells so bad I got vertigo and almost pass out. My head reels and I can feel myself spinning and the loss of all senses and balance. I grip Andrew’s shoulder so I don’t fall or pass out. Andrew thought this was permission to kiss with tongue so he slopped his stupid tongue inside my mouth and licked all my teeth and it just kept flopping around like a dying fish without water. I pushed my tongue against his to push it out of my mouth, but he thought I was encouraging him and he pushed further. 

It was a battle, a battle to get his fucking rancid blood-curdling tongue out of my mouth. I swear he has never brushed his tongue in his life, a combination of everything he has ever eaten or regurgitated making its presence known on the thick white layer covering his tongue.

The slimy spit leaking from his mouth enters mine, and the taste is so potent I cant believe anything tastes worse than his tongue. I can’t take it anymore. I bite his tongue, not hard enough to leave blood, but hard enough to make him gasp and stop kissing me.

“Woah, you're feisty,” he smirks. He turns around and the small bulge of his boner pokes against his pants. Normally, I wouldn't think too much of it. Guys get boners from everything. I once saw a guy get a boner from looking at a photograph I took of a turtle drinking a margarita (This one is justifiable). But his boner was coming out from his ass area. It looked like a little tail. Like one of those little nub tails that some dogs have.

“I’m gonna go now…” I say and shuffle my feet towards the door that is two inches away.

“Okay,” Andrew said dreamily, “to be continued.” Fuck no we are not gonna continue. “Hey,” he grabs my shoulder, “Be careful. I am not gonna go into it, but I wouldnt trust Red if I were you.” I drunkenly nod and crawl all the way back to Red’s house.

Chapter Text

I wake up with the taste of puke in my mouth while I am laying on the moist couch, but I don't remember throwing up. The memories of last night slowly piece themselves together, but my memory is a puzzle with missing pieces. My memory is so bad that if it were a cheese, it’d be swiss cheese cause of how many holes it has.

How did I end up kissing Andrew? How did I end up in his house? Hopefully, I can figure out how that happened cause there is no way in hell I’d initiate it. I do remember something… Andrew said not to trust Red. I don’t trust Red, but why would Andrew feel the need to warn me? 

Sure the chocolate thing was weird, cause it’s basically cannibalism for Red, and the pool of blood and tampons are weird, especially cause he never explained who the blood actually belonged to. But besides that, nothing too out of the ordinary. 

“Mornin,” Red yawns as he walks to the kitchen, his white gloves tainted brown. I don't want to know if that's chocolate or poop.

I sit up and put my hands under my thighs, “Hey Red, I need to ask you something…” He turns to look at me and he freezes. 

“Get down,” he whispers to me and crouches slowly to the floor. 

“Why?” I make sure to sit up straighter and taller on the couch. “Is this your sad attempt of trying to avoid another serious conversation?”

“No,” he whispers and glares at me, “I think I have a stalker.”

“Oh yes because you are so high and mighty that you have a stalker.”

“Shut up-” he grabbed the nearest sock and threw it in the direction of my face. It landed pathetically with a miserable hmph. We stared at the sad white sock in silence, our breathing the only thing heard inside the house. No screaming, no arguing, no clatter from breaking dishes. Just breathing. Doing nothing but breathing seems like the only time where Red and I can bare ourselves honestly to one another. There is a rawness to it that I cannot quite explain. Just two beings united in the simple act of understanding the necessity to breathe. The necessity of one another. 

My heart melts a little at the mere sight of Red. I slowly slouch down on the couch, like a slippery little slug on its way to do slippery little mischievous things. When I reach the bottom of the couch, I start crawling and there's a loud knock on the door. My heart beats so fast I want to throw up and I throw myself on top of Red. I hear him groan under my weight but I don't care I'm literally shivering me timbers.

“Be quiet,” he says. Or at least I think he says, his voice is muffled under cause he's literally under me and my haggard breathing is so loud I can barely hear. I try to get off Red but when I try to push myself up with my hands the sweat from my palms, I slip and bang my head on the floor. I roll on my back and the world starts spinning. I get motion sickness really easily so I try and close my eyes to stop the reeling feeling. My vision is so blurry it keeps going in and out.

“HEEEY DUDE HOWS IT HANGING,” Chris McLean hollers from outside the window. We forgot to close the blinds and he can see us laying on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Red punches the floor with his fist and gets up to open the door. I crawl to the couch. My head hurts so fucking bad. I can’t take it anymore. I close my eyes and try to sleep, but Chris is so loud I can’t sleep so I just lay down and pretend I am so I don’t have to talk to him. I’ve never actually talked to Chris before, but he seems like an asshole so I’ll try to avoid him the same way anti-vaxers try to avoid real statistics and evidence that prove the vaccine is actually helpful.

“ANOTHER CHICK PASSED OUT ON THE FLOOR? YOU ARE CRAZY MAN.” I hear his footsteps walk past me and I don’t move. I keep my eyes closed and play dead. 

“HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN FOREVER MAN, WHAT’S UP?” Why does he always have to yell?

“Why do you always have to yell,” Red grumbles. 

“COME ON DON'T BE SUCH A LOOOSER. WHOS THE BROAD?” 

“Some random person, don't worry about her. Plus she's a fucking bitch, she gets on my nerves. I regret ever taking her in.”

“OH COME ON, WITH LOOKS LIKE THAT SHE MUST BE WORTH IT… HEY, WHY DON'T I TAKE HER OFF YOUR HANDS?”

“I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy. She is so crazy I want to kill her, just leave her to me. Trust me, man.”

“SHE’S THAT FUCKED UP?”

“She is that fucked up…she always talks about how she hates baby mario.” There is a gut-wrenching silence and it is sending goosebumps up my arms. I can taste the shift in the air after he brought up baby mario. I hold my breath, I don't know how Red is going to react.

“HEY DUDE, I AGREE BABY MARIO SUCKS ASS!” Wrong answer, wrong answer, wrong answer. If I actually liked Chris, I might have gotten up and defended him. But I don't so I'll let him deal with Red on his own.

I expect to hear fighting, yelling, a punch maybe. Not the wet, gushing sound of Red stabbing Chris in the stomach with a butter knife. Chris screams something unintelligible (but really, when has he ever said anything intelligible). I open my eyes and sit up and stare at the scene ahead of me. Red, with a bloody knife in his now red hands. Chris looks at me, eyes bewildered. Like a lil deer staring into the headlights of my super swag tesla. He opens his mouth- thankfully no words come out of his mouth -and flops onto the floor face first. Turns out that one jab to Chris Mclean was all it took to take him out.

Red drops the knife, it clatters onto the floor and makes a small pool of blood. Red just stares motionless, watching the growing pool of blood spill from his closest friend. Watching Mclean’s final breaths, no emotion displayed on Red’s face. Red’s hand quivers slightly, I only am able to notice because of how intently I am staring at him. He doesn't turn away from Mclean, not even when he tells me to go get the tampons. 

I walk stiffly, doing as Red says. I have no free will, I am a mere puppet, a pawn, in the grand scheme of Red’s life. I always have been, even when we were younger. The worst part is, that I still don't think I will ever be able to hate Red. Even now, I move to help him. I exist to help him.

I grab the box of tampons, and together we toss them into the puddle of blood.

Chapter Text

I sit in the kitchen and stare at Chris’s body as the tampons lay next to him soaking up the blood. “Tell me, Red,” I say without lifting my eyes from the floor, “did you kill yellow m&m?”

Red opens his mouth but there's a knock on the door. “For fucks sake,” I say and stomp towards the door.

“WAIT DON’T,” Red yells as I swing the door open. I freeze. Not only cause I opened the door and there's a murder scene in the kitchen, but because Andrew is in front of me and he looks like he gained a concerning amount of weight since the last time I saw him. It hasn't even been five days and he has a humongous, round beer belly.

“I thought you'd be here,” Andrew says with a smile. “Surprise!”

“Surprise, what? That you are here?” I'm genuinely confused he always seems to show up. I look outside and see a bush shiver. It must be the wind

“No, Surprise I'm pregnant.”

“Haha good joke Andrew, but I am actually really busy so I've got to go,” I strain a smile and try to close the door on him but he wedges his foot in between the door so I can't shut it all the way. Even his feet look like they gained weight, he’s barefoot so I'm assuming his shoes don't fit.

He stares at me dead in the eyes, “I'm not kidding y/k, I actually am pregnant. You are the mother of my child.” I don't know why Andrew insists on this sick joke.

“That's not how it works Drew, I think you need to go back and do some research on how babies are made.”

“I'm not stupid, I know babies come from kissing. We kissed without protection and now I’m pregnant.”

“How the fuck do you kiss with protection? How does that even work?” I loosen my grip on the door and Andrew wedges himself into the house.

“You use chapstick, that's what it’s for.” He states matter of factly. He saunters to the kitchen. “Hey, Red m&m.” He stops in front of the dead body and stares at it for a minute. He covers his eyes with his hands and sighs. “This is not good for the baby.” Andrew removes his hands and stares sadly at me. “I told you to stay away from him,” he whispers softly, like a final prayer just before giving up hope.

“We can explain,” Red interjects harshly.

“What is your explanation,” Andrew asks me, ignoring Red entirely, “I have given up my investigation on him. This would only increase my stress and be bad for the baby. OUR baby.” He weeps into his hands like a sim character. “Just tell me the truth y/k. Please, I'm begging you.”

I stare at Andrew and my mind goes blank.“We’re, well, Red and I, well, we’re… umm”

“We’re getting married!” Red, thankfully, intervenes.

“What?” Andrew and I say in unison.

“Well this,” he kicks Chris’s body, and a small gust of blood squirts out, “is one of my family traditions, on my father’s side, for when we get married.” He sits on the floor, casually, as if he had not just minutes ago murdered his best friend. “Chris isn’t actually dead, it is all an act. Chris is so committed to this that he isn’t even going to say hi to you.” Red pats Chris on the head, “Such a silly goose.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it. I’m sorry I never told you,” I squeeze Andrew’s shoulder and give him my best puppy dog eyes, “and I want to have a proper marriage so I can’t see you or the baby ever again.” I look down and close my eyes, I’m trying to make myself cry but I’m not good at faking it so I put my face on his shoulder. “Andrew you would tempt me just SO much, and I can’t leave red. So the only option is for you to leave and never see me again…”

“So you are just gonna leave me and the baby over HIM?” Andrew runs his hands through his hair and starts pacing back and forth in a line. “HIM?” He asks me again, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Yes,” I say and plaster my best smile on for him.

“Even after everything he did to you? After all the times you came crying to me in the middle of the night when we were younger, all the times he broke your heart and savored over how you fell apart over him, when he manipulated you and used you, when you have a whole new FAMILY of your own?” He takes a slow and deep breath, “Youre just going to leave me like that?”

For once in my life, I feel guilt towards Andrew. He was always there for me in my darkest days and I ran to him when Red didn’t want or have a need for me. Yes, Andrew did smell and he is stupid and his hair is super greasy and he is a really ugly crier and I swear he has a piece of snot hanging on the side of his nostril and he forced me to watch Hamilton twice against my will and if he talked for more than two and half minutes I wanted to blow my ears off. But right now, looking at this pathetic creature, my body swelled up with inescapable shame. I can’t smile anymore when I respond, “Yes.”

“Yes?” He whispers at me, as if asking if this is my final choice.

“Yes,” I say and go to stand by Red’s side, next to Chris’s dead body.

“You are a horrible person y/k, you know that?” Andrew chokes out. Oh my god, he’s starting to cry. I cant decide if I want to roll my eyes or go and hug him. “Both of you are horrible people. It’s like you were made for each other… I hope I never have to see either of you again.” He rubs his belly and walks out of the house without closing the door.

I look down and stare aimlessly at the expanding puddle of blood on the floor, Red grabs my hand and kisses it. “I do this all for you, y/k.” He’s lying.

“I know,” I reply, and he walks away, leaving me to gaze at Chris and the mess he made.

Chapter Text

Red and I never fully discussed the details of our marriage. I assumed he said that we werent actually going to get married and that he told Andrew that we were as an excuse. But the next day, after putting the tampons to soak up all the blood on the kitchen floor, we went to get a marriage licsense. I didn’t actually know we were getting a marriage license until we had to put our information in the paperwork. “It’s for your safety,” Red would tell me. “I know,” I’d say. 

Since Red was famous, they moved some strings to get us married the same day, only thing was that we needed a witness. Red said he’d hire paparazzi to take pictures of our “secret” wedding so that our wedding would overshadow Chris’s disappearance. 

And because we knew that no one we liked would come as a witness for our wedding on the spot, we called Andrew. I thought it’d take more persuading but he said he’d come because he wants to have his baby know what its like to see a wedding. The baby isn't even born it wont see shit, but I didn't tell him that.

So it was on April 21 that I got married in my minions t-shirt and jeans, and Red m&m naked except for his white gloves and shoes. As God intended. 

When we stepped outside, there was more paparazzi then I ever thought possible. They bombarded the streets and took up every crevice with a camera in hand. There were more cameras flashing then there were stars, and my eyes started hurting from the bright lights surrounding me. I put my hand to cover my face, but Red pushed it down and told me to smile for the cameras. 

The annoying paparazzi yelled my name, trying to get my attention. I turned and saw some of the leeches with cameras turned to look at something, but they looked disgusted. I wonder what they were looking at. I keep walking forward, but I trip on my own feet and topple on top of Red. The way we landed on top of each other does seem a bit explicit and the paparazzi love it. They go feral for our clumsiness, reminders that celebrities are actually human and relatable. Well I’m human at least.

The paparazzi are crowding us even more to get a picture of our intimately awkward position. I want to die this is so embarrassing. This is not how I wanted my life to turn out. Then, as if my prayers have been answered, I see a bush shoving the papparazzi. A literal green bush with two legs, tackling all nearby paparazzi, as it sprints towards Red and I. My heart thumps to the rhythm of the bush’s footsteps, getting faster and faster as the bush gets closer. I extend my hand out towards the bush and he grabs my wrist. 

I feel the bush’s rugged fingers wrap around my wrist, and I close my eyes. I can feel my stress and hatred for stupid fucking paparazzi drain out of my system the farther away we are from where we were.

 The bush runs faster than I expected, so fast that my body doesnt even hit the floor despite my weight. I feel like a ragdoll flying in the wind as the bush sprints faster away to wherever he wants. I dont mind where he takes me, as long as its far away from here. I dont even bother opening my eyes because, frankly, I dont care where we go. Take me far away bush man.

Chapter Text

It feels like it has been hours since the bush man has started running. I would estimate that its been about 2 hours and 34 minutes. I only open my eyes when I hear screaming. Red is gagged and tied to a chair, his wild eyes stare at me and he screams louder. I think he wants me to get up and untie him. I try to get up but my arms and legs are tied with super scratchy rope. Bush man went through all the trouble of kidnapping us, and he couldnt even get us more comfortable rope. 

I try to inch ofrward like a little slug but everytime I scoot the rope chaffs my skin. I stop where Im at because I'd rather be tied up and on the verge of dying than be mildly uncomfortable because of rope burns. I stay in place and look around, it looks like were in a cave or something. I dont see an entrance or exit so we must be really hidden, that means we wont be able to call anyone for help. 

My throat starts swelling up and I can feel the pool of water slowly start rising in my eyes. I really do not want to cry right now. I hear more muffled screaming behind me so I turn around, and wince as the rope chafes me. There, tied to a chair, is pregnant Andrew gagged and crying. Right next to him is an entire shrine dedicated to Red. There's pictures of Red doing chores, grocery shopping, washing his car in a bikini. There’s hearts drawn onto all the pictures with Red in them, and the faces of anyone else are scratched off so its a faceless body. There's a mountain of limited edition M&M candles lit that is making the cave(?) smell like overly-sweet artificial sugar and burnt wax. And on the floor, mounted on a box, is my missing mango juul pod. 

I let out the most bloodcurtling scream, my throat is on fire and I see Andrew wince by my anger. I slug my way to the juul pod. This anger towards whoever stole my mango juul pod makes me feel like ive been shot up with adrenaline. I basically become the hulk and I rip the rope entrapping me. I am still screaming when I seize my pod, and I am still screaming when I rip apart the Red shrine. I can feel Andrew and Red staring at me as I shatter the stupid candles on the floor and rip apart the pictures on the wall. 

Andrew and Red start yelling to get my attention, I know they want me to untie them but they aren't my priority at this moment. I need to find whoever did this to us. I am going to fucking destroy bush man.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Someone yells from behind me. I grab a candle and throw it at the voice's direction at the same time that I turn around. It's Robert Pattinson wearing a bush. He’s the bushman That motherfucker. I stop screaming and watch as the candle softly bounces off the bush and shatters on the floor. 

“YOU,” I point my finger at him and stomp over so I can grab a handful of leaves on his bush and tear them off. “YOU TOOK MY FUCKING JUUL POD.” Robert's face goes from angry to confused.

“It’s not yours, it's Red. I saw him use it.” There's no way he could have, I had it on me at all times. 

“Whered you find it?” I asked, taking a step towards him.

“On the floor outside his house,” he says, taking a step back. I scream and hrutle towards him swinging my arms like windmills. I hit him in the head over and over with my fists and he tries to block his face with his arms. I just keep hitting Robest and yelling. Im so angry I could kill him. I wind my arm back and punch him, he stumbles backa nd hits his head on the wall and slumps to the floor. 

Im panting and I stare at Robert, taking in my first kill for all that it is. That was kinda dope. I get why people are professional hitmen or assassins now. But now I guess I have to untie Red cause I live with him and I forgot my keys at home. And then i might as well untie Andrew because he’s pregnant and I dont want any bad karma coming my way. 

I walk to Red and he’s crying, tears are streaming down his chocolate face. I sigh and begin to untie the rope that is holding Red hostage. I’m struggling really hard, this know is really tight. Was Robert a fucking boy scout or something? I break one of my fingernails trying to dig the knot apart and blood drips from my finger. I suck on my finger and I feel a punch land on my face, knocking me to the ground. 

I try and sit up but I feel really dizzy so I just lay on the floor. Robert looms over me. I’m praying he doesnt try to teabag me. I let out a soft cry and roll onto my stomach. I try to get up but Robert kicks me again. 

“Red is mine,” he kicks me in teh ribs, “do you understand me?”

I dont reply.

Another kick, “I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” 

I nod my head up and down because I cant seem to form any words. This seems to please him. I really should have just left on my own while I had the chance. I really dont need Red, especially now that I know he is a murderer. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to physically hurt me. He used to be everything to me, but now I am slightly terrified of him. I never know what he’s going to do. And it’s all my fault, I just had to open that door. All those years ago when we were dating, I tried to surprise him and opened the door just to find him and the yellow m&m making out. I left town the next day because I couldn’t handle the truth of what he’d done. Me knowing the truth of the relationship him and yellow had also put his career at risk. So I know he killed the yellow m&m, but why. Did yellow m&m threaten to go public? Is this why he killed yellow m&m and not me even though I know his secret? 

But now, Robert Pattinson is going to kill me because I tried to free Red. I can see it in the bloodthirsty glimpse in his eye. This is it for me. I drag my hand up to my ribs, a feeble attempt to protect the remaining unbroken ribs I have from shattering. “Why?” I mutter.

“What?” Robert stops kicking me and, surprisingly, tries to listen to what I have to say.

“Why him? Why do you care so much?” 

“Because he broke my heart and I havent been able to let him go.” I simply nod because I understand. 

“You have to let him go, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself and youre wasting your life obsessing over him. I understand, but you have to let him go.”

“What if I cant let him go, you think its that easy to forget everything we had together? All the good times and secretly shared kisses?” He’s yelling now, hands gribbing his own hair in distress.

“Kill the memories pretend they never happened, don’t give him the satisfaction of being hung up on him.”

He looks down at me quietly, and whispers, “What if I just kill him?” I nod because I know this is the only way. Red has done enough damage.

“Can I have my mango pod first?” He walks over and tosses it in my direction and leaves to god knows where. I crawl over to the pod and put it in my pocket.

 I look up and Andrew is sound asleep, I dont want to wake him up but I know his swollen hands must be sore. I go to his chair to untie the rope but his hands arent even tied. He’/s holding it back himself. Of course he would pretend to be tied to the chair so he would feel included. 

Robert returns with a pot of boiling milk, Red starts thrashing his seat and looks at me with desperate eyes. Robert is about to dump the milk on Red, but I need to know something. “Red, look at me.” He stares harder at me. “Did you kill Yellow M&M?” He shakes his head to say no. “Then what’s that?” I point to the wall of photos that Robert has. On the very top of the collection of photos is a picture of Red murdering Yellow by stabbing him in the chest. Red thrashes in his seat but Robert is pouring the milk. Red starts melting and it smells like hot chocolate. My stomach is rumbling cause it smells so poignant and sweet. 

By the end, Red is just a puddle of hot chocolate on the floor. It was surprisingly easy to get rid of him, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I stare at his puddle and smile. Robert squats next to me and hands me a swirly straw. I giggle with new found excitement and we both begin to drink the giant puddle of hot chocolate on the floor like the homies we are.