#orizzinal content

Chapter Text    

 Asher’s hands spasmed hard, ripping the note right in half.

 “Lemme see that shit. I swear to gods I’m gonna rip that bastard’s flames right outta his head,” Cinn growled, looking the note over. “Fucking hell, how selfish can he be? You were---”

 “In the hospital, I know. I was there,” Asher covered his face with his hands. His body was trembling.

 Hands gently took his and pulled them down.

 “Hey, easy…. Breathe with me.”

 “That shit never works.”

 “You ain’t ever done it with me,” Cinn insisted, before pulling Asher into a hug, sitting down. Normally, Asher recoiled from touch in times like this, but he just needed to be held right now.

 With his head on Cinn’s chest, he could follow the skeleton’s breathing. Usually shit saying to breathe and meditate just frustrated Asher, but was surprising how much it was helping right now.

 “Your soul sounds like a drum. One of those cowhide ones,” he noted.

 “Heh, thanks, I think?” Cinn shrugged.

 “Sorry… I tend to hear minute differences in soul sounds. Theo always sounded like the pop of a fireplace.”

 Asher sighed, before slowly getting up.

 “Let’s see if there’s anything else left.”

 He opened the closet. Theo took all his fucking clothes. All his sketchbooks. Everything was---was everything gone? There was something peeking out of the bottom of Theo’s closet. Asher opened it.

 Panties.

 He slammed it shut.

 “Piece of  shit!  ”

 “What was it?” Cinn asked.

 “Look in there and find out!” Asher fumed.

 Cinn opened the door. “Oh, you gotta be shittin’ me.”

 “He left that there on purpose. He’s rubbing it in my goddamn face how little I meant to him.”

 “Sick bastard probably thinks that leavin’ this here would show how much you “neglected” him,” Cinn corrected.

 “Neglected him?” Asher paused. “The hell do you mean?”

 “Guys like these? Only ever think ‘bout themselves. If he left these here, he probably thinks they’ll make ya miss him. That you neglected ‘im so much that he turned to other people. It really just means that he’s a textbook fuckin’ narcissist, though. Literally can’t step outside of his own fuckin’ ‘suffering’.”

 “Bastard,      bastard,    bastard!”  Asher’s voice cracked again,  and he picked up the panties and tossed them at a wall.

 “Er, ya sure you wanna touch those?”

 “I don’t give a fuck right now. I’ll wear them on my goddamn  head  if I want.”

 Cinn knew he shouldn’t laugh, but shit if that image wasn’t funny.

 Asher turned to face him, and he shut his mouth. Until Asher started cracking up himself.

 “Oh, man! I can’t believe I actually touched them… I think I’d rather die than wear them on my head, actually.”

 “Waita sec, I think I know whose these are,” Cinn chuckled.

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. Lemme look at the tag.” He checked them with gravity magic, then showed Asher.

 They were embroidered.      Return to Scamp  

 “Holy shit. Gimme a second,” Asher smirked. He pulled out his phone.

 Your Passenger Wants to Chat!

 Accept?

 Your Chat Began on __/__/____

 Ash3rslash3r: hey scamp

 these yours?

     Ash3rslash3r sent an image.  

 Scampalicious: oh son of a bitch! where did you get those? been looking everyfuckinwhere

 Ash3rslash3r: my partner jumped ship and left these for me to find in his closet

 you want em back?

 Scampalicious: look please don’t get pissed off at me. it’s business. i can’t stop guys from cheating.

 Ash3rslash3r: O is that what this sounded like? Omg it is

 Ash3rslash3r: I’m not mad at all Scamp I know it’s your job. I just wanted to know if he was any good.

 Scampalicious: what’s the serial number on the panties?

 Ash3rslash3r: There’s a fucking serial number?

 Scampalicious: look these things are important pieces of equipment. I gotta keep track of em

 Ash3rslash3r: That’s so strange, but true. I never thought of it that way

 Ash3rslash3r: They say 345-90-446

 Scampalicious: lemme check my ledger

 Ash3rslash3r: you have a panty ledger. Like I see how it makes sense that you would but still

 Scampalicious: Says here the last time they were worn was with an “albert theodore bunsen”

 Ash3rslash3r: Lmao he gave you his full name?

 Scampalicious: no I just always look through their wallet. If they don’t pay me I know their full name and license number

 Ash3rslash3r: smart

 Scampalicious: you gotta be to make it in the business

 Ash3rslash3r: can I ask you something?

 Scampalicious: as long as I get my panties back

 Ash3rslash3r: Yeah of course

 Ash3rslash3r: Which name did he ask you to moan

 Scampalicious: holy shit how did I forget XD?? He wanted me to moan Albert I’m glad I was so high otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face

 Ash3rslash3r: I fucking knew it! Every time he tried to pressure me into fucking him that’s what he wanted

 Scampalicious: jeez… that      blows  

 Ash3rslash3r: hehehehe

 Ash3rslash3r: Anyways next time I get a ride from you I’ll give them back

 Scampalicious: thanks, that shit’s expensive

 Cinn was in conniptions, laughing so hard he crumpled onto the floor.

 “Albert! Albert! Fuckin’ Albert!” was all he could say.

 Asher couldn’t help but laugh with Cinn. His rich, growly chuckle was godsdamn contagious.

 “Yep. Albert. Or Al. I’m not kidding.”

 “I’m sure there’s some out there, but I can’t thinkuva less sexy name right now!”

 “Right? You’d think he’d want me to call him Theo, but no. He needed his Albert fix… not that he ever got it.”

 Cinn paused. “Wait, you never banged him?”

 “... I tried. My body… I didn’t really like showing it or having it touched before. Now I honestly want to hide in a paper bag, but we never went past me trying and failing to blow him.”

 “Wow. Never fuckin’ reciprocated, did he?”

 “I didn’t really want him to… see my parts.”

 “I’m sure your parts are fine, but… yeah. I don’t know ‘bout that sort of thing. At least you don’t have memories of that little shit banging ya.”

 “Yeah…” Asher smiled a little. “It was always such a massive source of guilt for me… and now it’s just immensely relieving.”

 “Well… what’s the game plan?” Cinn asked.

 “What do you mean? I’m sleeping in here until rent is due and then I’ll hit the streets again.”

 “Again? Wait, weren’t the King and Queen gonna cover for ya?”

 “I can’t accept that. I… I’m not a charity case. I’ve lived on a bench before and I can do it at any time.”

 Cinn shook his head, his red eyelights resolute. “Absolutely fuckin’ not.”

 “What do you mean, no? You can’t tell me what to do.”

 “Come on, dumbass!” Cinn barked at him. Asher recoiled a bit.

 “I… I’m sorry. Look. Princey. Ya might’ve been able to survive back then, but now? ‘S not happenin’. You can’t photosynthesize, and ya can’t work either. I’m not lettin’ ya starve. Hell, I don’t even know how you’d get down the stairs tomorrow mornin’.”

 Asher shrugged.

 “Look. Stay at my place. Just fer tonight. Lemme find you somethin’ that won’t make you feel like a burden.”

 Asher really didn’t want to accept, but the pleading look Cinn was giving him was impossible to say no to.

 “F-fine. But only while I have to. And I’m paying for groceries.”

 “You got you’se---- you got yourself a deal. Let’s get the fuck outta this shanty.”

 “Was that a fucking you’se?”

 Cinn cleared his throat. “Maybe.”

 “Let’s go.”

 “Heh, yeah.”

 Cinn had only come out of a barfight with a friend once, and that was the first time he and Sparkby butted heads. Sparks almost bashed his head in with a chair, Cinn tried to crack Sparkby’s with his own martini shaker. The other monsters had emptied the bar, leaving them to kill each other.

 After realizing that neither of them wanted to die, Cinn had floated them both a Sea Tea, and they hit it off from there. Sure, they still butted heads, but nothing like the first night they’d met.

 Every scuffle at Sparkby’s since then had ended in someone else’s dust in his jacket pockets.

 So when his pal had knocked the little sapling to the ground for being mouthy, Cinn didn’t know why he gave a shit. He just knew that he did. A lot. Enough to get sap in his Pontiac and drive him to the hospital. Enough to stay the night and make sure he didn’t dust in his sleep.

 He wasn’t the most touchy-feely guy. He held his little bro when he needed it, and that was about that. Sure, he fucked, but it took a lot for him to show his tender side.

 Something about this pissed off, wronged-by-the-world dryad made him want to show it all the time.

 Even so, Cinn did his best to ignore the low buzz of his magic between his legs. Right now was literally the worst time to make any sort of moves. The little guy looked exhausted, achey, and his tremors were steadily worsening as Cinn drove them to his place.

 “Look, yer tired, I can tell. Lemme carry you.”

 “No, Cinn, that’s ridiculous.”

 “Really? Try an’ stand up.”

 His new charge grouchily accepted after almost eating shit, cane and all.

 By the time they got up the elevator, Asher was already asleep. Cinn didn’t blame him; he’d had a long week.

 “Bro, I’m home. Got my hands full, so wouldya mind undoin’ the locks?”

 A crimson red eyelight looked through the peephole.

 “HMPH, I’M NOT CONVINCED. WHAT’S SOMETHING THAT ONLY MY BROTHER WOULD KNOW?”

 “That yer bein’ a fuckin’ butthead right now.”

 A raspy chuckle resounded from the other side of the door, before his little bro undid all fifteen locks on their apartment. Thank goodness Vanilla owned the building. Any other landlord would have thrown a fucking fit.

 “IS THAT THE VICTIM OF THE ACCIDENT? WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT HER HERE? SHOULDN’T SHE BE IN THE HOSPITAL, CINN?” His bro sounded pissed, but that was just his voice. Cinn knew he was trying to hide his concern.

 “Look, he’s tired, he don’t have nobody at home anymore, and I can explain all this shit tomorrow. I’m droppin’ him in my bed and sleeping on the couch.”

 “.... FINE. BUT I EXPECT SAID EXPLANATION TOMORROW.”

 “Sure thing, Boss.”

 That never failed to make his little brother smile.

 Before setting Asher down, Cinn used gravity magic to change the sheets. Just because he lived in filth didn’t mean the sapling deserved to. He carefully placed the dryad in bed, before tucking him in just the way Edge used to like. Asher started purring. Aw.

 As he was about to leave, Asher’s hand weakly grabbed his jacket. He was definitely still asleep, but he also wasn’t letting go. Without waking him up, Cinn pulled off his prized jacket and laid it on top of Asher for extra warmth. He knew how cold Asher would get tonight. Hell, he might as well use the heated blanket while he was at it. Perfect. Maximum comfort had been achieved. His job was done, and he could go crash on the couch.

 Asher reached for him again, grabbing his shirt.

 “Goddamn it kid, you want me to strip fer you or something?”

 Asher made a displeased sound, shifting a bit, but not letting go.

 “Fine. I’ll get in. But don’t be a prude about it tomorrow mornin’.”

 He shuffled in, careful not to disturb him. The dryad hung on tightly to him, purring hard.

 Cinn remembered outlines for two air mattresses in the apartment. When was the last time Asher had shared a bed with his partner?

 Even though he was clearly playing substitute for someone else, Cinn didn’t feel too weird about it. It was kinda peaceful, actually, the gentle gray glow of Asher’s body in the dark. His breathing sounded a little the rustle of wind through leaves.

 It felt like an eternity before Dr. Dreemurr knocked.

 “Asher? May I come in? I am also bringing some other Royal Family members. You may accept or refuse to see them, and it will be completely alright.”

 “No, it’s okay,” he assented.

 The click of dress shoes let him know she was being followed. The door opened, and two very different looking goat monsters followed in behind Dr. Dreemurr.They were a couple, with rick dark hair and mahogany eyes that watched him with unreadable expressions.

 The woman introduced herself first, holding out a hand.

 “How do you do? My name is Fafriel Dreemurr, and I am the current queen of the Underfell Kingdom and its peoples. It is lovely to meet you, and to be sure that you’re alright… well, alright enough.” Her language and enunciation were a little stiff, but Asher could tell she wanted to be there. He shook her hand.

 “You’re meant to kiss it,” the male grumbled from back in his chair.

 “Gorey, he’s not one of our subjects. He’s not required to follow such outdated protocols.”

 “Hmph,” the male replied.

 “Come introduce yourself, you curmudgeon.”

 He sighed. “You’re right… I’m being unreasonable. Good afternoon, young dryad. I am King Fafgore of the Underfell Kingdom. I am pleased to see you talking and moving.”

 “Hehe, am I supposed to kiss your hand?” Asher joked, trying to loosen him up.

 There’s a beat of silence. Both women are frozen stiff.

 Then raucous laughter from the man. “Oh, goodness! You certainly know how to break the ice. In all my centuries of performing as King, not once has a male monster asked if he needed to kiss my hand, even those attracted to other males. No, you do not need to kiss my hand, but you may if you feel so inclined.”

 Asher elected to shake it. This seemed fine.

 “Excellent. Now, let’s get down to business…. Dr. Dreemurr, if you’d explain the technicalities.”

 The doctor took a deep breath, sighing with relief.

 “.... Mr. Asher, you have a serious, irreversible case of VCD I and II. Void contamination disease, and its mental counterpart, Void Contamination Disorder.”

 “What does that mean? I didn’t take past Intro To Monster Bio,” Asher admitted.

 “It means that the concentrated VOID that the Collider lets into reality to do its work has been completely absorbed into your body. It is now inseparable from you.”

 Dr. Dreemurr hands him a very outdated looking brochure.

 “I apologize for the datedness of the documentation, but this has not happened in a very long time. Anyways, VOID contamination on your level has enormous consequences on your mental stability and physical functions.”

 “Like what? You’re being pretty vague.”

 She winced. “I’m sorry…. I just really do not wish to see you suffer, child.”

 Asher swallowed. “I can take it.”

 She continued. “You have lost the ability to flower. You are infertile.”

 These weren’t really bad news, since Asher had never wanted children or flowers in the first place.

 “You are infertile both in the sense of reproduction and in a magical sense. You can no longer grow living plants with the touch of your hand, as far as we know, and your bullet patterns… I don’t know what they’re going to look like now, but please be exceedingly careful with using your magic.”

 He nodded.

 “You will experience symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, memory loss, nonsensical or garbled memories, memories belonging to other people or timelines, random facts or premonitions that turn out to be true, headaches, and you are no longer photoreceptive. You will have to eat much more food than you are likely used to.”

 He nodded, a little more weakly.

 “Thankfully, the DTC container did not burst or puncture during the Colliding process, or we would be looking at something much worse, but I understand that this is hard news to bear…. Other symptoms include chronic pain, partial molecular and magical instability, loss of ability to heal others unless they are also contaminated, difficulty exerting your body or magic, and tremors. Considering the severity of your contamination, any of these symptoms are possible at any time. There is little we can do to mitigate these issues other than physical and psychological therapy…. I’m sorry,” Dr. Dreemurr gulped. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

 “So… I’m guessing I can’t go back to work.”

 Dr. Dreemurr shook her head.

 “How am I supposed to make rent? Buy groceries?”

 “You cannot. Not reliably.”

 Asher’s breath picked up. Panic was rising through his roots.

 “What am I supposed to do? Am I gonna be put away in some nursing home with a lady spoon-feeding me?!”

 “Certainly not. That would be a waste of your remaining faculties, and maddening, I’m sure, for a man as young and alert as yourself,” Fafgore stopped him. “This is where my wife and I would like to come in. We have an alternative proposition for you. You can accept or revoke your consent at any time.”

 Asher took deep breaths and tried to listen.

 Dr. Dreemurr handed him a cup of tea, his bed manifesting a table to steady it. He couldn’t drink it. His hands almost knocked the cup over until he tucked them under his thighs.

 She handed him a silly straw with a strained smile. He took it with his mouth and drank the tea in slow sips.

 It did make him feel just a little better.

 “We would like to, as the Royal Families, with my wife and I at the helm, offer you a lifelong trust fund and assistance. You would not be wealthy, but you would want for nothing. You could live in any assisted living facility you liked, or with an attendant, but you would retain your independence.”

 “That doesn’t sound very independent.”

 “It is the best we can do,” Fafgore sighed. “I know how frustrating this must be for you. A close confidant of mine underwent this many years ago.”

 Asher’s lower lip trembled.

 The last things he’d used to cope with life had been taken away.

 “W-with all respect, your Highness…. You can’t.”

 Fafgore nodded sagely. “In any case, we would like to offer you our deepest apologies for what has happened, and our assistance. This phone number is a direct line to our house. Please avoid sharing it if possible. You may contact us at any time, no matter the hour, and we will respond.” He handed Asher… a business card, amusingly enough. Asher nodded his thanks.

 “Well… we would strongly recommend that you do not drive home. Do you have a ride, or would you like us to arrange for someone?” Dr. Dreemurr asked.

 “I-- I can f-find someone on my app.”

 “Alright. Your clothes and personal items that survived are in the cabinet over there. Please use the rails if you have difficulty walking to it, but you should have about 80% faculty in your legs or more.”

 The queen of Underfell approached Asher, a slightly softer look in her harsh expression.

 She took a knee on the ground, and clasped his hand tightly.

 “My deepest apologies…. This should never have happened. If you decide to accept our assistance, you will be like my own child. You will want for nothing.”

 Fafgore and Asher both bristled a bit at the mention of children.

 “Thank you…. I need some time to think, your Highness.”

 She shook her head. “Fafriel is fine, child.”

 He nodded. Fafgore approached next. He gave Asher a deep bow, then kissed Asher’s hand.

 “You do not need to be alone. My wife and I are not the most exciting company, but our assistance will always be available to you.”

 Asher nodded again. The royal couple departed, leaving only Dr. Dreemurr.

 “I apologize if they seemed a bit over-formal… that is the nature of their kingdom.”

 “It’s okay,” Asher tried to smile.

 “I recognize this is a bit unprofessional, but… may I hug you?”

 That broke Asher. Tears rushed down his face, and he managed a yes between hitched sobs. Her fur enveloped him, and he could feel the fire of her magic imbued in her warmth.

 “I c---can’t remember the last time I was held,” he whimpered. She pulled him in closer.

 “I imagined… you have no family or partner listed in your records. I heard a young man demanding to see you, but he doesn’t seem much of a partner, if you’ll forgive me for saying.”

 Asher just assented, trying to control his breathing.

 “I j-just want us to be happy again.”

 “Take on one issue at a time, my child. Just one issue, one day, one step at a time. You may want to take some time to focus on your own happiness.”

 He stared up at her, terror and pain in his eyes.

 “.... How?”

 Dr. Dreemurr held him longer still, trying not to cry herself, before letting go.

 “Here is my number as well. There is a temporary walking stick by your clothes for you to use as you need it. I hope to hear from you, but you are not obligated to an old lady like me. Please… take care of yourself.” With that, she left.

 Asher wiped his tears up. They looked like muddy water in his hands. Disgusting. Every part of him was disgusting.

 Even so, someone probably needed this hospital room, so he took his first shaky steps off the bed, reaching for the walking stick. It was a sickly pink. He hated it, but whenever he loosened his grip on it, his knees started to buckle, so he was stuck with it for now.

 Even putting on his clothes or opening his app required several attempts, his hands spasming every time he tried to do a button or press a letter on his keyboard.

 Eventually, he managed to send a message to Scamp to pick him up.

 SCAMP: OFFLINE

 Shit. He really didn’t want anyone else to see him like this. To pick him up and wrinkle their nose.

 There was a second knock on the door.

 “Hey, princey, you still in there?”

 Asher hurriedly zipped up his jeans and buttoned his polo.

 “Y-yeah, come inside.”

 There was a snort, before the door opened. “Jesus, princey…. Let’s get you home, okay?” Cinn sighed, gently helping Asher up. It was hard to get used to the kind of tenderness that people were treating him with lately. Hopefully, gods he hoped it wasn’t pity.

 Cinn moves him into the elevator, and they head down to the parking lot.

 “Normally you could gimme an address and I’d port ya home, but I don’t wanna move you through spacetime in your state, so driving it is.”

 He walked Asher to an ‘86 Grand Prix in nearly perfect condition, a stark contrast to the walking wreck of a Lada that Scamp drove around.

 “This is certainly an upgrade.”

 “From what?” Cinn sees his phone. “Aww, please don’t tell me you’ve gotten in the walkin’ spontaneous combustion hazard that is Scamp’s car.”

 “I have. He’s actually my favorite driver on the app. Law-breaking as fuck, but he gives a smooth ride…. Uh, in the car! As a driver” Asher quickly corrected himself.

 “So ya know about Scamp’s side gig too, huh… I highly recommend. His aftercare’s the shit.”

 If Asher had been drinking anything, he would have spit it out.

 “Anyways, let’s get ya nice and comfy in there.” He scooped Asher up and placed him in the front passenger seat, bundling him up with a nice blanket.

 “I’m not an old lady, Cinn.”

 “Believe me. Yer gonna be a lot more sensitive to the temperature from now on.”

 They slowly backed out of the parking lot, and Asher gave him the address. Cinn seemed to know where he was going, until he took a wrong turn and missed an exit.

 “Whoops,” he chuckled, continuing to drive.

 After his fifth mistake, Asher caught on.

 “You’re stalling.”

 “I--err----”

 “Nope. That’s all the answer I need,” Asher chuckled dryly. “What I do wanna know is why.”

 Cinn sighed, then found a nice stretch of road to pull over in. The car came to a stop.

 “Look, I…. I’m not tryin’ ta kidnap you or anything like that. I just…. I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t really wanna take you back to that piece of shit you live with. I know his type. He’s not gonna support you in the slightest. I know you handle his bull all the time, but if he disrespects ya again in front of me like that… I don’t know if I can handle myself.”

 Asher pinched his forehead.

 “Look, Cinn. You don’t know me or him that well, and even if you’re right, we can’t avoid reality forever. So stop taking the scenic infinity route and just get me to where I need to go.”

 Cinn’s shoulders drooped a bit, but he agreed. The Grand Prix started up again, and they were at Asher’s apartment complex in five minutes.

 “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, this place is a walkin’ ADA violation. Is there a fuckin’ elevator in there?”

 Asher shrugged.

 “What floor do ya live on?”

 “9th.”

 “Please. I know I’m meddlin’ too much for your taste, but let me walk you up the stairs. I don’t trust that flimsy fuckin’ cane.”

 Asher finally smiled a bit. “Hehe, me neither. Maybe next paycheck I can….” he went silent. Cinn accepted the quiet, and they slowly worked their way up the stairs.

 As they got on the ninth floor, no thanks to the lack of handrails, Asher’s soul started to pick up. He was finally home. His bed and coffee maker were waiting for him.

 He knocked to let his partner know ahead of time that he was home. “Theo? I’m back!”

 No answer.

 “You wanna open the door? My keys got destroyed.”

 B̴̲̙͉̂ȕ̵̞̠t̴̹͆͑͆ ̴̨͋͘n̶͇̮̹̑̒o̷̲̚b̵̨͍̲̌͋̂ȯ̸̡̯̻d̷̜̳̊̇͜y̶̞̻͊ ̷̟̫̭̑c̶̟̫̠̋a̴̩̐m̵̺͚͗͛ȩ̵̢̮͆.̵̮̋̔͠

 “Theo? Theo! Look, I know you’re mad, but I really don’t have any keys.”

 n̶̹̬͇̅̔o̷̗̐̄̚b̴̢̮̈́̆̚ò̶̬d̵͎̠͆̄̚y̴̖͙̝̍͝ ̷̘̈́̾͊c̵̮͂̄ͅä̸̱͍̪̚m̷̼͋e̶͍̓͝

 ̸̮̹̫̈͛̎ṉ̶̯ȍ̶̮̔b̶̢̪͛̃͘ȏ̸̺̞̾d̷̗̼̓̂͐y̸̢̖̒͊̋ ̴͇͒c̸̞̹̑̈́a̷̮͖͊m̸̬̮͇̐̃̈́e̵̫͗

 ̶̠͝n̷̪̪͌̊ō̴̱b̴̻͌ō̶̖͝d̸͍̩̔͊͝y̶̮̞̓͐̋ ̸͔c̴̳͆a̵̖̟̓̚m̵̥̻̻̃̿̈́ę̵̪̹̉͝

 “I’m bustin’ the door down. This bastard has some fuckin’ nerve!” Cinn growled. “Can you stand on yer own for a minute?” Asher tested it, and nodded.

 “Stand back.”

 The big skeleton threw his shoulder into the door hard, busting it right off its hinges.

 Air dust flew everywhere, as if it had been settling for…

 Days.

 “... I don’t hear anything…” Asher’s voice cracked.

 “Maybe the cunt’s asleep. Let’s check it out ‘fore assuming anything.” Cinn carefully helped Asher down a couple of steps into his apartment.

 It was almost completely empty.

 His bed, his CRT television, his vintage coffee maker, his teapot, their minifridge, everything. Everything but dirty dishes, a note, and something crumpled up under one of the closets.

     “I tell you to come home at 10 PM.  

     You decide my word’s worth shit to you and go to work without even stopping by.  

     A whole week goes by and neither you nor the hospital could be bothered to contact me.  

     You’re never at home, you’re never in bed, and I’m sick of you neglecting me and acting like I don’t exist, just because I tell you things that you don’t wanna hear.  

     Sorry, but the fire’s just not there anymore.