#bean!!!!

i love you, tiktok anon - more than anything, and if you’d let me i’d like to spend the rest of my life—

by me!! :3

also uh TW for blood and a spooky guy

I stumble sleepily into my room. I had to work late at the convenience store, about 45 minutes from home. The room’s dark, except for the neon red numbers on my alarm clock: 11:27. The rain pours against my window. In the dim moonlight, I swear I could see a silhouette of someone. It’s probably just a product of my lack of sleep, but just to be safe, I stagger over to the window, close the blinds, and lock the window.

“Should probably check if I locked the door,” I mutter to myself. I walk through the darkness of my house, bumping into a table in the hall, and arrive at the front door. I turn the doorknob, but it doesn’t turn much. Locked. Good. I walk back through my house, making it into my room. The rain is louder as it taps against my windowsill. “Could’ve sworn I locked this,” I mumble as I close and lock the window. I take a quick peek outside before closing the blinds. Nothing but trees and rain.

My cat, Bean, jumps onto my bed and meows at me. “You hungry, Beany?” I groan, wanting nothing more than to sleep, but it’s not like I can let him go hungry. I walk to the kitchen, floorboards creaking under my feet, Bean following close behind. I stop to turn on the light, but the floorboards don’t stop creaking. I turn around. It’s too dark for me to see anything, so I grab my phone out of my pocket and use the light from the screen as a flashlight. Nothing there. “Old-ass house, creeping me out.” I turn back around and flip the light on. It’s brighter than I thought. My eyes take a second to adjust. I walk over to the cabinet, and open it. A mug falls to the ground and shatters. “Shit.” It feels like everything in my house is trying to keep me from falling asleep. I pick up Bean and set him on the counter. “Stay there, okay?” He mews at me.

I walk down the hall and open the broom closet. As soon as I do, the broom falls over and clatters on the ground. “Dammit, man.” I groan and kneel down, grabbing the broom. I freeze as my hand grasps the handle. I feel a chill run down my spine as my hand runs cold. I look at it, and for a split second, I swear I see a pitch-black hand on mine. I blink, and it’s gone.

Bean meows at me. “Yeah, I’m coming. Just a sec.” I stand and walk over to the shattered cup. I sweep it up, dump the pieces into the trash, and lean the broom against the kitchen counter. I reach into the counter, and grab a packet of wet cat food. I shake it, and Bean walks across the kitchen counter. He rubs his head against my hand. I rub his head a bit, open the package, and pour the food into his bowl. He purrs as he eats. I look over at the broom and groan. “I’ll put it back in the morning.” I groan, and begin walking back to my bedroom. “‘Night, Bean.” He meows at me.

I step into the hallway, yawning. As I open my eyes, I see a faint figure at the end of the hall. I convince myself it’s probably just clothes piled on a chair, but I get an uneasy feeling. I use my phone as a flashlight once more, and my heart sinks. I see a tall, horrifying figure. Its legs are freakishly long, with arms to match, and hands like claws. I can’t move. I look up, and atop its black, empty head, is a tall, thin top hat. It steps forward, the floorboards creaking under it. It moves its fingers, like a cowboy itching to grab his gun and pull the trigger. It steps forward again. I still can’t move. Step. Step. Step. It leans down, its face extremely close to mine. Its face splits open, revealing a maw full of chipped, black fangs. It swipes at me, and I manage to step back as it does, but not quick enough. Pieces of my shirt fall to the floor, and blood drips down with them. I wince in pain, but this isn’t a time to slow down.

Bean hisses and runs past it into my room. This thing, whatever it is, doesn’t seem interested in Bean. Just me. It’s strange, but I’m a little grateful. I run away from it, grabbing the broom and snapping it over my knee as a makeshift weapon. It slowly shambles towards me, its right hand dripping with my blood. It brings its hand up to its face, and it sucks the blood off its fingers with a twisted, dark blue tongue. It’s hard to read its expression, but I think I see it smile. As it does, it dashes towards me. As an instinct, I thrust the broken broom into its short, lumpy torso. It screeches, and the noise hurts my ears. It drops to all fours, and scurries up my walls onto the ceiling like a demonic spider. It crawls along the ceiling until it reaches the window next to my front door. It opens it, contorts its body to fit through, and waves at me tauntingly as it leaves. At least it, whatever the hell it was, had the decency to close the window behind it. I wince in pain, as the three large cuts across my torso send a wave of pain through my body. They’re not too deep.