Blumeire was stirred from his sleep by the smell of bacon and eggs. Groggily, he sat up, noting the empty space by him as he rubbed his eyes. He shoved slippers on his feet, blearily setting out to look for the smell's source.
Someone who was definitely not Saffron was busting themselves making a very simple, but welcome breakfast.
Blumeire walked up and gently grabbed Timpani around the waist as she stirred the eggs. She laughed gently.
"Sleep well?"
"No talk." He chastised lightly. "Still sleeping."
She laughed again. "Well you better wake up soon. The eggs are almost ready."
Begrudgingly, he let her go and trudged to the bar stools.
"Why are you cooking, anyway? Did Saffron have the day off?"
She shrugged, grabbing a plate.
"I woke up early and figured I would make breakfast. And I already called to tell her to sleep in- or well, Nastasia did. But I would have myself if I had her number."
She blushed lightly as she set the eggs in front of him. He smiled to show her he understood.
They'd been married for two years now and she still insisted on not relying on servants for more than the bare minimum of what they'd been hired for. Though he understood her position on it, he was glad he'd worked her away from not relying on them at all.
He smiled at her again as he bit into the eggs.
"Not bad."
"Not bad?" She echoed.
He blinked. "Uh… yes?"
She scoffed. "You go and rave about Saffron's cooking, call her the best chef in the U.S, and my humble little breakfast gets a 'not bad.'"
He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright! I apologize. They're wonderful, darling. Really."
She smiled and leaned over the island, planting a kiss on his temple.
"That's better."
They had exactly six more seconds of silence before loud poundings alerted them of their approaching children.
Dimentio was first down, grabbed a protein bar and ran for the door.
"Dimentio!" Timpani called after him.
He backed up slowly, turning on his heel to face her.
"Yes?"
"Forget something?"
He glanced down at himself, likely doing a mental check of everything in his backpack. He looked back up, confused.
"No?"
Timpani tapped her cheek and he groaned.
"Mom! Come on! You don't make O'Chunks or L do this."
"They do it voluntarily." She said diplomatically.
He rolled his eyes and gave her a quick peck.
"Okay, now I've really gotta go. Bye, see you after school!"
He raced back out the door, not giving either parent a chance to ask after the rush.
"He's just in a hurry cause he and K.B are prancing what's-his-name later." Luigi informed them as he walked into the kitchen. "Their other friend? I think the two of them are filling his locker with whipped cream or something."
Blumeire frowned. "And you?"
"I'm going to make sure they don't." Luigi laughed.
"Oh, by the way: Mario invited me over this weekend. Are you two okay with that?"
Timpani and Blumeire looked at each other and shrugged.
"It's fine."
"He is your brother, after all." Timpani reasoned.
Luigi' face lit up. "Thank you so much! You two are seriously the best! I'll see you after school!"
The couple chuckled before returning to their breakfast.
"You'd think joining Mimi in the drama club would be enough to keep that boy busy." Blumeire laughed.
"Hardly. You know our 'Mentio. He'll always find some way to make trouble."
They laughed.
"True enough. Speaking of drama, when is their performance?"
"April 23rd. Remember, because O'Chunks wrestling match is a week before?"
"Ah, yes." He nodded. "I don't really understand the sport myself, but he seems to enjoy himself."
Timpani nodded.
They are the rest of their breakfast in contented silence, then Timpani moved to clear the dishes.
"Let me." Blumeire told her.
"Oh! I can manage."
"Yes, but you made breakfast, so it's hardly fair of me to expect you to clean it up as well."
She smiled prettily, her eyes glittering. "No, I suppose not. Thank you."
He happily set about cleaning the dishes, glancing back at his wife, as if she'd leave if he didn't check.
Upon looking back at the dishes, though, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Dimentio was standing just outside of the window above the sink, just staring at him.
Blumeire caught his breath and smiled.
"Dimentio! What are you doing out there? I thought you were meeting a friend."
Dimentio blinked slowly.
Blumeire cleared his throat. "Uh… Dimentio?"
The child grinned slowly. "Come on, County Dearest. You know this isn't real."
Suddenly Dimentio was right next to him. He pointed to Timpani.
"She's dead. Or missing at least."
The Count's wife vanished suddenly, as if she'd been edited out of reality.
Next, he pointed to Luigi, who was on the stool next to where she had been, surrounded by his siblings.
"He doesn't even remember who Mario is anymore. Let alone stays over for the weekend."
The brightness left L's eyes, replaced by a questioning as he was sucked away by a growing void under his feet.
Dimentio pointed to O'Chunks.
"While wrestling would be great, we all know that's far too complex and rule riddled for this brute of an older brother."
O'Chunks arms were littered with scars, his knuckles bandaged and bloody. He too, was sucked away, a bandage ripping free of his face.
Dimentio's finger found Mimi.
"Theater is such an innocent thing. Such a simple desire. But alas, she confines her skills to the internet, where people well beyond the target audience see it. Who knows who's hit on her online. Sent death threats. Other such things."
Mimi's round face slowly lost its innocence, thinning out and becoming the haunted face that belonged more on a woman who'd seen war.
She was sucked down, face growing ever older.
Dimentio pointed at himself, the growing void creeping ever closer to the two.
"Me? I'm planning far more than filling a locker with cream. You wish you knew what was in my head!" He crowed
They both dropped, falling into the hole and being entrenched by the lack of anything.
"And you?" Dimentio jabbed his finger into the Count's chest.
"You're so lost in your own self regrets you ingnore all warnings your given. Blindly following what your superior tells you. You might as well be part of this void for all the light your soul contains."
Blumeire felt himself melt away until he was only a pair of blinking eyes staring out of the walls hoping that all of this was-
Count Bleck bolted upright in bed, sweat pouring from his forehead, nose greeted with the smell of bacon and eggs. Shaken, he rubbed his eyes, hoping to also run away the effects of the nightmare.
He shoved slippers on his feet and started trudging down the stairs, seeking out the source of the scent.
L's head bobbed as he moved through the kitchen, making breakfast, as well as slapping some sandwiches together for his and his siblings' lunches.
His blue eyes caught sight of the Count in the doorway as he stirred the eggs.
"Oh, you're up! Saffron called in sick today so I thought I'd save us a buck and take over for the day. I can't be here for lunch, of course, but there's enough leftovers in the fridge to give you some options."
L smiled bashfully. "I wasn't sure what kind of sandwich you liked."
Count Bleck smiled. "It is fine, L. Count Bleck does not mind a cold lunch if you make a warm meal for dinner."
L beamed back. "Of course!"
His brow furrowed a little and he cocked his head. "Are you alright? You look kinda shaken."
The Count smiled thinly. "Count Bleck is fine. Just… just a dream."
Happy late April Fools Day. Hehe. I went out of town and this came to me in the car ride back. Typed it up as soon as I was able. Anyway, if you need me, I'll be hiding under my table from all your angry tears. :)