#tcsm

Either way, he had bigger things to worry about!

Currently, his hands were fumbling clumsily with a lock of his own hair, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot as the strand he was pulling on to snip off, coiled back to its original shape. A frustrated murmur left muffled by the mask. His head nodded up. There wasn’t a proper clock in the bathroom to indicate what time it was, only the soft tick of the kitchen timer masked by the hooting and hollering of Drayton and Nubbins just a thin wall away.

A thoughtful garble left him, he’d be able to sneak up to see them if the two were distracted for a moment longer. To present whatever heartfelt gift he made that day that’d be ridiculed in front of anyone else.

The golden strand hung against the bathroom sink, washed and scrubbed until the fake gold-plating gave way to the subtle copper and silver just shy underneath. The original owner was a young woman traveling with her husband down the road, or so Bubba imagined; seeing as they’d clung onto each other with such closeness when he’d finally found where they were hiding. All with broken sobs he’d heard from man and pig alike — before they became two carcasses pressed together, lying in wait within the freezer.

Thinking too hard about it made his mouth twitch. He could imagine the new loiterer inhabiting the room just above the bathroom and him like that. Not in a freezer, ‘cause that was where all the nitty gritty bits of people long gone were. But maybe somewhere on his creaky bed, surrounded by the coarse paraphernalia that they’d coo and praise him for. And he’d play with their fingers and watch as they made themselves comfortable in a room of his own making.

Aside from that.. Through the haze of gore and tortured screams echoing through the old Sawyer home, the sun brought light to the gorgeous thing. Shortly after, upon closer inspection, he’d noticed it’d been adorned with a small pattern etched in to the shape of a heart. To match within its confines, a lock of someone’s hair curled comfortably underneath a thin layer of plastic—safely held close to her chest. Likely something vintage, far and way-old, with the soft sheen of constant care until Bubba overdid it in the sink.

He’d run around, boots lumbering against the gravel all morning to chase the two lovers around for his family as always, but it’d finally proved to be fruitful once he’d caught glimpse of a bridge. A new way to connect with the ‘loiterer,’ as Drayton named it, just up the stairs.

He just couldn’t shake the nerves that made him rethink the half-baked plan formulated in his head, and the sheer excitement that earned a soft squeal from him. Hopefully, they would like the emblem, an jut maybe, it would melt some of the ice that’s kept them holed up in their room—refusing to eat things he’d made just for them..

The thought of their opposition made him deflate for a moment. Bubba could hardly handle anymore jeers from Nubbins about ‘failed attempts.’

His hand finally managed to snip off the stubborn tuft, calloused fingers rubbing it between the pads before glancing down to take the recently cleaned necklace. He nodded happily to himself, a soft sniff. Then, only to stuff his hair inside of the small crevice haphazardly. Behind him, he flicked the sad clump that had once occupied the small space to make room for his. As his fingers fumbled to shut it, with the tips of his hair still poking through the corners of the clear film—he huffed, shoulders slowly slumping, mild insecurity finally beginning to create a bile in his throat. He swallowed it down. Yeuck.

Surely, they’d like it.. Though, if they rejected it—well, rejection would prove a brutal shove to all his work, and have him hoping for the next trucker wandering down the road to bury himself in chores. He lips pursed, laving over the cracked ridges.

.. Yeah.

If they didn’t enjoy it, the threat of the hammer could always force them to change their mind real quick. Learned it well from his family before he’d settled his hands on the cool ridged of his saw. He paused for a moment, before rubbing his hands on his apron and clutching the necklace to his chest. Bubba bit back a guilty snort, shoving his head in his hands as he solemnly stared at the locket.