Rewriting ticci toby part 2/??
Part two: awwww sooo cuteee. To bad she dies lol
Lyra being faster makes it inside first, Toby panting behind her.
Before he can run after her, his mother grabs his arm.
"Toby. You shouldn't-"
She sighs, then runs her hand down his hair, a pointless attempt to straighten the curled hair.
"You need to be careful. You shouldn't run around so much, you'll get hurt."
"Mom, im fine."
"Toby.."
"... I'll be more careful."
His mother watches him a moment. She knows deep down he wont, then again he's a kid. But such a fragile child in her mind.
"Fine. Pinky promise me."
"Mom."
"Pinkie!"
She holds her pinkie out to him. This would be a cute moment if he wasnt currently a edgelord 13 year old boy who thought this was the corniest thing he could be doing.
"Fine."
His pinkie wraps around hers. Satisfied, his mother squeezes his shoulder and steps away.
Toby then continues his chase after Lyra, who was know in her own room, headphones on, with an old cd player.
She glances at him, then shuts her eyes again.
"Hm?"
".. can i-i have a ear bud?"
Toby cocks his head, only for his neck to twich with a tic.
Lyra pulls the left earbud from her ear and offers it to him. He climbs into her bed to lay next to her. Staring at the ceiling. She was listening to something he couldn't quiet place. He knew the voice but didnt have a name for it. Orange haired girl. His head Twitches. Tic.
"W-whats the band?"
"Paramore."
"Ah. Who sings?"
"Her name is Hayley Williams."
"Ah-h."
He scoots closer to her.
"...lyra?"
"Mhmm?"
"Do you think im fragile?"
"Nah, I threw you down the stairs last year and you survived."
"I k-know that but- i cant- DO anything."
"Mm."
Toby folds his arms over his chest and sucks in a breath of air.
"Lyra?"
"Hm?"
"Whats school like? Actual school. Classes and stuff?"
"It sucks."
"Oh-h."
Toby turns his head to look at her.
"What a-about pe-people?"
She pauses, then turns to meet his gaze.
"Some good some bad. You've met a few of my friends, Tiffany and Alex? Tiff with the black and green hair, whole lotta peiercings? Alex has the purple locks? They're really the only people i talk to."
"Oh. Do you think I'll have friends like that?"
"Not if mom never gets off your ass. Hell, i was only home schooled untill i was twelve, she still has you here."
Toby turns to look back the ceiling. Lyra watches his face drop, then sighs.
"Toby.. you'll find friends. And not just the neighbor kids, actual people who like you. Just, not now."
She pauses.
"Maybe not for a few more years. But you'll find people. Plus, i aint going no where. You have me till you die."
"Pro-omise?"
"I swear it."
"Wait, till i die?"
"Yea, im older."
"Ah."
Lyra hooks her arm around him and squeezes him. His tounge clicks. Tic.
"Your stuck with me, pinkie promise."
"No-not you to."
"What?"
"Mom already made me promise today."
"Pinky?"
"..yes."
"Whats one more?"
She extends her pinky finger to him. He groans and wraps his own around hers.
Toby groans.
"You suck."
"Nuh uh- oh! Do you dinner is done by now?"
"No?"
"Bet!"
Lyra sets her cd player haphazardly on the nightstand, and jumps off the bed and runs down the hall. Sending Toby, who was on her arm, plummeting to the floor.
After a moment to think, he runs after her.
"L-lyra!"
Toby races down the hall, up untill his jaw twitches. Tic. Dispite what he thought, the dinner table was set, and food was ready. However, the room was quiet. No chatters, no laughing, his mother fussing over him, Not even lyra and his mother having a petty argument. nothing more then a few cleared throat. His father was home.
Toby swallowed, then haphazardly glances into the living room. Low and behold, his father. Beer bottle in one hand. Remote in other. His socks where worn with holes, his arms tan and harry, his body tight and stiff. A cigarette twiches on his lips. He gripped the bottle like it was the last thing keeping him sane.
Toby steps backwarsa into the kitchen, silently grabbing a plate. His mother clears her throat, then breaks the silence.
"Max? Would you please come eat with your family?"
"I work to damn hard to not eat at my damn chair."
"Max. The kids haven't had dinner with you in weeks."
"And?"
"And id like you to eat with them. Please?"
"Jesus Connie, your allways fucking nagging me! All i do is work work work, and all i get is a family who even let me sit on the damn couch!"
"Max."
"Damn it bitch, im coming."
His father drags his feet, flopping down in the kitchen chair with a thud. His mother keeps her gaze neutral against his.
"Thank you."
"Whatever. Piece of fucking shit."
She dosn't respond, setting a plate i front of him as if he where a child.
"Chiken? Again?"
"Its just a baked chiken."
"Yes thats the issue, can't we ever have anything worth eating in this house!?"
"What is wrong with the chiken?"
"We had it last week."
"Mhm?"
"We just had it."
"Max. Eat. Please?"
"Bitch."
Hus father stuff it in his face dispite his words, chewing slow. Toby sits infront of Lyra. His foot tapping the floor rapidly. His father narrows his gaze.
"Kid, would you cut that shit out? People are gonna think your mental."
"S-sorry."
"What are you, a girl? 'S-s-s-s-sorryyyy' for fucks sake, man up!"
"...ho-how?"
"Lord, i didnt raise no fucking bitch! To much time with your mother!"
"Max thats enough! Leave him alone!"
His mother stood up, eyes like daggers into him. He glared back.
"You turned my boy into a wuss."
"He's a kid."
"Your a sick woman."
He grabs Toby by the arm, pulling him along to the basement.
"Come on kid, where gonna do something to put hair on your chest."
"...o-ok."
He glanced back at lyra and his mother, a final pleading look for intervention. Lyra stood but his mother placed a hand on her shoulder to hault her actions. And then, the door shut.
