Well hello there fellow awkward shmucks in need of some dire Gregor x Luxa fluff.
(I kid you not; "shmucks" was not just notified as an incorrect word, yet both "Gregor" and "Luxa" were. The nerve of Word. JustkiddingIabsolutlyadoreyou.)
It's disappointing to admit that I am suffering from severe blockage from all of my current plots. Yes, even the Jack Frost one that I had hoped would turn out so well.
Sorry about my lack of a proper 'Underlander' way of speaking, I'm studying up on formal words and phrases though. So here I lay, in my unbearably hot room, at 3:31 in the morning. Honestly, I felt it suiting that I write a bit of fluff today, for I am to attend a cousin's wedding. Drat! I have rambled, and am too lazy to delete my ranting. You are trapped here reading this. Heh. It's pleasing. Not in that way you dirty minded freaks.
Disclaimer: (*Drumroll*) I. Own. Nothing! Characters, settings, and refrences belong to the wonderful mind of Suzanne Collins… And her editors, publishers, and whatnot. Yes, real places are used in my story. Such as shops, homes, schools, and jobs. Though I made some up.
Sandwiches. Dreadful sandwiches. Subs, dinners, or anything. Gregor could not stand the thought of sandwiches. Odd, for a boy of sixteen, who lived in Virginia. Oh! But of course, there where deli's built nearly on every street in the damned town of Chesapeake Bay, Virginia. Even the slightest 'P-nut buddah n' Jelly' as Boots had called them years ago. Of course, she could now properly speak, but the family liked to remember her giggling ways. Boots, her brown curls and all, walked proudly around the apartment; still commanding everyone around of course.
But sandwiches? Gregor would make himself sick at the thought. Think of how dry it is, he would torture, think of the smelly cheese on it. Gregor would rather smell Spaghetti-O's in the morning for the rest of his life, which was common for the sinking family.
Gregor turned his head to distastefully glance out the bus window. His family should be staying with relatives, but there was hardly any room in their old house to accommodate for them all. Gregor had started to take the bus home from his part time job at an old antique shop; he felt it suiting. The old, empty, bus dropped our former hero off around a block away from the current apartment center they lived in 'Magnolia Point.'
At least we're only about half an hour from the beach… Gregor thought half-mindedly, I bet she would have loved the beach, probably at night though. Which is cool because the turtles—No! Gregor winced, instinctively snapping the rubber band around his wrist. This was his habit now. Think of her, Gregor snapped the band, and pain would surely follow. Nobody questioned it either. Partly because they didn't know. Around Gregor's wrist were two bracelets. One, was a thick, woven, 'survival bracelet.' Though it would never last down—Snap! Gregor interrupted his own thoughts again.
There were times in the day when these memories were allowed for him. Well, during the night to be exact. The heart wrenching moment in the dark of Central Park. Seeing her enjoy the night made it better for him. Her first look at stars, and the world above the Underland. Gregor would subtly smile to himself as he lay in his small bed at nights, imagining a similar darkness blanketing the glowing city of Regalia.
These times weren't now.
Gregor reached into his front pocket and searched with his hand for the keys to the apartment. He grimaced, hoping he didn't leave the keys inside. The dark green door of the apartment opened, and behind it was one of the few Overlanders that could make him smile; Boots.
"Hey, you!" She chirped, growing out of her old 'Hi, you.'
"Hey, kiddo, anybody else home?" Gregor asked, stepping in the doorway, though pausing to run his fingers through Boots' dark curls.
"Hair!" She squealed, and ran off into the hallway bathroom to groom herself. Though glad she outgrew her messy-stage, Gregor would miss her comical 'oopsies' all over her outfits.
Gregor, having given up on a response from her, called for anybody else. Moments later, he distinctly heard Lizzie rummaging through her piles of books in her room. That was a plus to this apartment; each of them had a room. His grandmother was the only one able to stay with his father's relatives, there was a hospital and airport closer to their house, and with her heart attack just last year; all of them hoped for the worst.
Instead of heading towards the bathroom, Gregor paced into his own room; second down the hall. He had liked his New York room better, but at least this one was a bit bigger, and it had a door.
Gregor's fingers skimmed the dry wall as he slowly walked, occasionally catching on an uneven piece. Upon the arrival of his room, he made a sharp turn, and jumped onto his bed. A ritual of sorts to him; the only thing permanent. Gregor would have fallen right asleep, but he landed on something solid, and it nailed him right above his belly button.
"Shit." He murmured, not wanting Boots to hear anything vile, and rolled over to inspect whatever hurt his stomach. Propping himself up on an elbow, Gregor scanned his Rustic colored blankets, and when his eyes came across it, he froze in his tracks.
A scroll, not one that was found in the antique shop, but a one from the depths of the world. Down under the depths of the east coast, and spreading to who knows where else.
It took Gregor five minutes of staring at the white parchment to actually build up enough courage to open it.
The word gave Gregor such chills, he nearly lost all consciousness.
COME.
His long fingers trembled, and the single word shook on his paper. It had been five years since he traveled up. Five years, one month, and fourteen days, he silently told himself. Counting the time as he had done with his father. Gregor's heart raced so fast, Boots probably could have heard it.
"That means…" Gregor started slowly, "they've been watching us."
"Boots, Lizzie," He started to announce, but then a thought struck him. The scroll has no signature; no way to tell whom it is from. Are there still dangers? Has the peace kept for so long? These thoughts raced through his mind. Gregor suddenly became away of a silence in the apartment; Lizzie and Boots waiting to see why he had called. He shook his head, if not an Underlander, than who would write, and on a scroll none of the less?
Gregor would protect them, and anybody else that needed saving. Pulling his phone out of his left front pocket, he dialed his mother's number,
"I'm busy, Gregor." Her voice sounded metallic through the phone.
"I'm going to take the girls on a trip to the new resort, boss gave me a raise, and I would enjoy treating them." Gregor lied; his boss hated him. Hated his knowledge of antiques.
There was a muffled sigh from the other end.
"For how long?" The question came after a few silent moments.
"Two weeks most likely, although I was thinking of upping it to three if they were good." Gregor pretended as if Boots or Lizzie were listening to him talk on the phone, no doubt they were anyways.
"You better call me every other night, mister." His mother warned.
"There won't be any signal, it's up in the mountains. I'll be sure to e-mail you every two or three days; the resort does provide computers in the main lounge." Gregor was now dropping lies rapidly. He doubted that there were any resorts that didn't have signal for phones, but after living with only a house phone for so long, his mother didn't know what to expect from technology.
Unwillingly, she allowed him to take them to the 'resort.'
Quietly, Gregor slunk out of his room, and went into Lizzie's. She perked up immediately; expecting a resort trip.
"No resort," he murmured, "-but how would you like to see our scarred chum Ripred again?"
Her eyes literally brightened at the mention of scars. Not out of brutality, but because the old, scarred, rat had influenced her. Whenever she saw the faint, jagged, scars on Gregor's arms and legs, anybody could see her thinking back to the nights of coding.
"Get some stuff, we've got a long train ride ahead of us." Lizzie nodded so violently, here hair ruffled.
Gregor then snuck into Boots' room, and packed a backpack full of snacks and spare clothes. Not that much would be needed, surely they would be provided with extra clothing. He had packed two pairs of shoes for Boots; a Velcro strapped one, and one with shoelaces. The laces would keep her entertained as she pretended to tie her own knots.
With Boots' purple backpack slung over one shoulder, he walked back down the narrow hallway into his room. Gregor mainly looked for small things that would amuse the Underlanders in addition to flashlights for Lizzie and Boots, seeing that Gregor needed lights no more. Well, sort of. He was rusty on the skill, and only sometimes could see things, but they would come back to him soon in the dark world.
Gregor threw in his last pay, two one hundred dollar bills that he earned from selling an old lamp and nightstand, a pack of batteries, his old iPod, some socks, and a camera.
With his essentials in his bag, and sisters at each of his side, Gregor the Overlander began his next quest: Returning to the Underland.