November

Everyone is thankful for something.

What are you thankful for?

Boomer stared at the assignment sheet in front of him, a frown on his face. A two-paragraphed response prompt was not too difficult. These requirements were some of the easiest he had ever received in all his years in high school. Still, he felt conflicted by the question that followed:

Explain why you're thankful for these things.

There it was, the hardest question to answer. Why? One of Boomer's least favorite things was explaining. There was no point to explain when most things were straightforward in life. If someone didn't get it, then oh fucking well.

But of course, English required written explanations, even in your senior year.

Boomer ruffled his hair in an attempt for his brain to start working. When that didn't work, he glanced over to his bunk bed, where Furball laid on its side. The teddy bear had a burnt ear thanks to another one of Brick's temper tantrums, but otherwise, it looked okay.

"You got any ideas, Furball?" Boomer asked the stuffed bear.

Furball just stared back.

Boomer sighed. "Yeah, me neither. Guess you're not gonna complete this for me, huh?"

Silence. An obvious no. Boomer couldn't blame him; if he were a stuffed animal with any sort of ability to choose, he would've ignored the request altogether, too.

Maybe his brothers were better at this stuff. Butch was more of a math guy, but Boomer had seen a good grade or two from Butch's English papers. And Brick was good at almost everything academically.

Boomer set his pencil down and flew to the living room. His eyes first settled on Brick, sitting in his signature spot on the couch with a huge textbook in his lap. There were at least thirty-five annotations on one page with highlights in all the colors of the rainbow. It almost made Boomer gag.

"Hey Brick?" Boomer spoke up, sliding in front of Brick. "What are you thankful for and why?"

"Thankful for any moment you shut up so I can study," Brick said without missing a beat.

"Dude, c'mon."

Brick didn't make an effort to even pretend Boomer was there.

"I'm serious! I gotta complete this assignment for English, and—"

"Sounds like that has nothing to do with me. Ask Butch," Brick said in a voice that implied he would not speak about this again.

Boomer huffed, then turned his attention to Butch, who was on the floor staring intently at Sailor Moon on the TV screen, something he'd been binging since the beginning of the month. Ironically enough, Butch got invested in it to the point where he'd watch at least five episodes per day. (Butch wouldn't admit it, but Bubbles kind of sort of forced him to watch it. How she did that, Boomer would never know. He still had high respect for her tenacity, though.)

"Butch?" Boomer tried.

No answer, but the twitch of Butch's brow meant that he could hear. Of course. Boomer couldn't blame his brother for ignoring him; Sailor Moon was, admittedly, a very good show if his binge adventure with Bubbles wasn't an indication of it. But drastic times called for desperate measures.

"Butch!" This time, Boomer stepped directly in front of the TV.

Luckily, that worked. Butch huffed, swiped the remote from the couch, and paused the show. "Ugh, what?"

"I promise this'll be quick. What're you thankful for and why?"

Butch's lip twisted in consideration. He got up from his spot, crossed his arms, and walked around Boomer in thought. Finally, he stepped behind him and said, "Know what? I'm thankful that you wear loose pants."

Boomer's eyebrows pressed together. "What do you—OW!" A painful tug on his underwear left him seeing white for a quick moment. He could hear Butch and Brick cackle like hyenas. Before they could get any other ideas, he stumbled away from the couch. "You guys are the worst!" he shouted.

"Thanks," Brick and Butch said at the same time, more focused on the now unpaused TV and the stupidly big textbook than on their poor, younger brother who just wanted to ask a simple question. Boomer didn't know what hurt more: having two assholes as siblings or his literal asshole. He was leaning towards the latter.

Boomer huffed and began to make his way toward Mojo's room. The monkey was probably doing his crossword puzzles. He loved doing those on Wednesdays for some reason. "Fine! I'll just go ask Mojo—"

"No, you won't," Mojo's voice called from his room, and the fact that he of all people refused in only three words hurt Boomer more than it probably should have.

Nobody in the damned lair was going to help him. Boomer would have to resort to going into another dimension at this point. Literally.

With a long, exaggerated groan, he stepped into the 'Ruff's bedroom in front of their shared, long mirror hung amongst their closet door and traced the number six three times in a vertical row. A black portal opened and, taking one last deep breath, he stepped inside.

The feeling of traveling to Hell never got easier. If Boomer had to describe it, he'd say it was like how fruit felt in a blender. Everything around him spun until his world became a blur of pinks and reds. By the time it stopped, he felt like he had to throw up. Twice.

"HIM!" he somehow managed to call out, though it took a few deep breaths to finally feel like normal again. "Where are you?"

"Ah, hello my dearest Boomer." HIM stepped inside Boomer's field of vision seemingly out of nowhere. He wore a pink apron, and if that weren't a clear indication that He was cooking, then the buttery smell wafting around would. "It's been a while since you've visited me. Do you want some tea and crumpets, darling?"

Boomer was on a time crunch, but HIM's tea and crumpets were quite possibly the best combo in the world and all dimensions in between, so a few minutes waiting wouldn't hurt. "That sounds great."

HIM looked delighted. He materialized a grand table that was not necessary for two people and summoned His fanciest teacups and china plates. Once the tea kettle began to whistle from the stove, He swiped a hand and the tea kettle came to life, pouring itself into the cups with the utmost care.

"Come now, little one," HIM urged, motioning to the seat on the opposite end of the table as He waved a hand, a crumpet landing softly on each plate. "Have a seat and dig in."

Boomer's chair pulled itself out, and for some reason, he gave it a tiny thanks before sitting down. He imagined Bubbles would have—

(Nope. Not the damn time.)

From across the table, HIM's smile widened just a little. As if He could tell Boomer was going through a mental crisis. And knowing HIM, He probably could.

(Yup, definitely not the time.)

After the seat pushed him closer to the table, Boomer grabbed his teacup with shaky hands and took a sip. Scorching, but delicious as always and a perfect method to keep him concentrated on his mission.

"I've got a question," he said before taking a small bite of his crumpet, hoping to save it for as long as he could. It tasted just as good as always.

HIM took a big gulp of His tea and ate half of His crumpet in a millisecond. "Let me guess," He said, placing His teacup down and crossing His hands on the table. "You're going to ask me what I'm thankful for and why I'm thankful, right?"

"Yeah! How'd you know—" Boomer's eyes landed on one of the many floating televisions around the space. "Oh. Right. You're a stalker," he said, staring at a TV that showed Butch and Brick lounging in the living room back in Mojo's lair.

"I'm an observer, dear. Stalker makes it sounds like I'm some demon." HIM flicked His wrist.

Boomer was rendered speechless.

"Anyway," HIM continued, leaning back in His chair and crossing His legs, "I'm thankful for you and your brothers. Even though you all won't do as I say anymore." The last bit was spoken through clenched teeth and perfectly complimented His forced smile.

Boomer rolled his eyes. He'd been there, heard that from Mojo on a daily; this was nothing. "Anything that you're thankful for that'll be useful to me? I have a school project to do."

"The pain and suffering of innocent civilians, when that cursed monkey shuts up, toddlers dropping their ice cream, anything that causes suffering—"

"So, nothing appropriate for a school paper at all?"

"I am afraid not."

"Nothing about me and my brothers? Your literal kids?"

"You know I can't lie to your adorable face, sweetie." HIM's smile looked genuine all of a sudden. "No."

"Great, give me absolutely nothing. Thanks, HIM." Boomer gave HIM a sarcastic grin back and a singular clap of his hands.

However, HIM did not seem affected at all. Of course not. This was Boomer's grades on the line, not His. "Anytime, doll. Do come to visit me more often. And bring your brothers. I miss you all dearly."

"You could, like, always visit us you know. Like an actual parent should?"

"Ugh, but the mortal realm is so worthless when it's not being destroyed. Not to mention that cursed monkey. He's a hassle and a half to deal with."

One part of Boomer could not understand what the hell went on in HIM's head to make Him dismiss His children for most of the time. On the other hand, Boomer couldn't blame HIM. Mojo Jojo was, in all his self-appointed glory, annoying. It was hard enough being his creation; he could not fathom being a parent with him.

Boomer stuffed the remaining bits of his crumpet in his mouth, then chugged the tea. He was a bit too peeved to savor it all now. Plus, it was getting very hot and he could only manage with heat in Hell for so long before he grew faint.

"When I fail this assignment, it's gonna be all your fault," he grumbled as he flew from his chair and made his way back to the portal.

"Don't whine, dear. You're far too old for that now," HIM said with a tiny chuckle. "Concentrate on what matters and you'll get your assignment done easily."

Concentrate on what matters. As Boomer made his way into the portal, he could have sworn he saw familiar pigtails and blue eyes.

It must have been a trick of the light from traveling dimensions again.

(It couldn't be real.)

The weird thing about traveling to and from Hell was that time moved differently in comparison to Earth. Sometimes, it froze, while other times, it moved a bit slower.

This time, it seemed to have moved even faster. When he stepped back into his room, he could see the soft glow of the evening light coming from their room's window. Brick was there now, still reading his large textbook, but he seemed farther in it.

"What time is it?" Boomer asked.

Brick grabbed his phone from underneath his hat and checked. "A little after six," he confirmed.

Shit. He was running out of time. And he could not sacrifice his sleep schedule any more than he already did.

Boomer heard some laughter from outside the room. One that belonged to his brother, and the other that belonged to the toughest girl he knew.

"Buttercup?" he asked, making his way out the room.

"Hey, little dude," Buttercup called over her shoulder. A second later, she was bouncing on the couch, grinning at Butch with her controller in her hand. "Hah! I win! In your face!"

Buttercup only came here for two reasons. One: Mojo Jojo was up to no good again, and she and her sisters had to stop him, being the city's protectors and all. Or two: she just wanted to beat Butch at some video game. Considering there was no mess, Boomer decided that it had to be the second option.

The whole video game thing started thanks to Blossom. Butch had said that Blossom grew the most monstrous look one day after one of his and Buttercup's fights, and she apparently told the two, "If you guys get in one more fight that destroys property, I will end you both myself."

Butch tended to get a little bit extra when it came to stories, but Boomer kind of believed him. Blossom Utonium was a very scary person when she was serious.

"Damn it!" Butch sent Boomer a glare. "Thanks a lot for distracting me."

Oh brother. That was Butch's favorite excuse. Everyone knew he was completely trash at Mortal Kombat. Boomer didn't bother to pay him much attention, turning to his green counterpart instead. "Since I can tolerate you more than my brother—" Boomer started.

"Hey!" Butch shouted.

"—can you tell me what you're thankful for and why? Please?" Boomer asked, clasping his hands together. "I just want some ideas for my paper."

"Thankful for how amusing it is when your brother takes another beating," Buttercup snorted. Somehow, she completely ignored Butch's flick on her arm. Impressive, considering who she was. "But in all seriousness, I'm also thankful for my sisters, punching bags, video games, skateboards… There's a lot. They just make me feel happy, and you can never get tired of happiness when you've got it."

"Finally, someone who's a little helpful. Thank you." Boomer sighed in relief.

Buttercup smiled at him. "Yeah, yeah, it's no problem. Only helped you 'cause you're the only cool one in this dump."

"I'm cool, too!" Butch sounded offended.

Buttercup didn't even offer Butch a glance. "He's lame."

Neither did Boomer. "Very lame. Definition of lame."

"I'm not! Brick's the lame one!"

Suddenly, a hand formed by fire slapped Butch clean across his face. Brick was not able to do that before as far as Boomer knew, though it seemed as the days went on, Brick got more in control with his fire powers. Now, he could make tiny knives out of fire when he concentrated hard enough.

"OW!" Butch rubbed at his cheek.

"You're lucky it was one hand," Brick called from their room.

"And you're lucky I'm gonna punch you back with one hand!"

"Try me, dipshit!"

That seemed to push Butch over the edge. He zoomed over towards their room in a flash of forest green energy "ARGGGGGG!"

Yeah, there was no way in Hell Boomer was going to get any ideas in this house, not when Tom and Jerry are fighting.

Boomer turned to Buttercup. "I'm gonna take a walk. Don't let Butch get his ass beat too hard. His ego is, unfortunately, his best character trait."

"I'm can still hear you, ya fuckin' off-brand poodle! You're next!" Butch yelled over Buttercup's laughter. "Ow, get off my hair!"

"Then cut the shit, dimwit!" Brick roared.

"You first, dickweed!"

"What the fuck is a dickweed?!"

"You!"

Buttercup used both hands to grab the edges of the sofa and boosted herself up. Her expression seemed a bit fond as she stared near their room, and if Boomer had extra time, he would have teased her over it.

"Don't worry. I'll keep them both in check," she said as she walked over to the room. She gave Boomer a tiny wave without turning around. "See ya, dude."

Boomer grabbed a nearby hoodie off the coat rack and flew out through an open panel on the roof. He was immediately greeted by the cool November air, and when he landed on the sidewalk, leaves scattered around his feet. A tiny smile formed on his face. The weather was finally getting colder, and soon, he'd be reunited with snow, one of the greatest creations on Earth.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked aimlessly. Listened to kids younger than him talk with their friends at the park, watched as adults made small talk outside of shops. He momentarily wondered what they would be thankful for. Would it be for tiny moments like this, moments that could feel like the world even if they're small in the grand scheme of things?

"Hi, Boomer."

A soft voice broke him from his thoughts. He blinked and then there was Blossom, sitting on a bench with a bunch of yarn and a pair of crochet needles in her hands.

"Hey, Blossom." This was perfect. Maybe she could help. Unlike Brick, she was actually nice. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did." When he stared at her blankly, she said, "I'm joking around with you. Of course, you can. What is it?"

Boomer decided that he'd have to get the Utonium sisters a joke book for Christmas. Their collective delivery along with their source materials was awful. "What are you thankful for and why?"

"Ms. Keane's assignment, I presume?"

"Yup."

"Hm." Blossom looked up in thought. Then, she asked, "Why don't you try to discuss this with Bubbles?"

Of course, she wouldn't help. She always did this, always tried to get him to talk to Bubbles. It didn't make sense. "Why?" he asked, unable to hide the flatness of his voice.

Blossom let out a slight laugh. "I know you're a bit annoyed, but just think. If you're struggling with this, then that means…"

"She completed it as soon as it was given."

Okay, so that made a little bit of sense. Two sides, same coin, some similarities, some differences, blah, blah, blah. Still, he couldn't shake off the thought that maybe, just maybe, that smile on Blossom's face did not hold any innocent intentions. She was terrifyingly smart. Whatever battle they had, she had already won it.

"Bingo." Blossom snapped her fingers, then turned her attention back to her needles and yarn. "Bubbles should be near The Square. Good luck. You've got this."

Boomer didn't know if she was wishing him luck on his assignment or his inevitable conversation with Bubbles. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was something else.

(Maybe he should stop overthinking so much and get this over with.)

He reached The Square before he could give it much thought. It was practically empty, all the tables and chairs unoccupied while only a couple of benches were being used. The grass surrounding everything blew softly in the wind, leaving behind a tiny whisper.

Already, he could feel Bubbles, something like soft petals fluttering on his arms. He looked to his right and there she was in a tree, eyes already him, no doubt feeling him nearby as she began to float down, she looked like a fallen goddess, someone who didn't belong on Earth because she was a bit too perfect to be real—

(Stop it, Boomer.)

"Uh," Boomer started when her clean purple boots landed in front of his sneakers. He paused. Gulped. "Hi, Bubbles. Heard you were here."

Bubbles broke out into a grin that only she could pull off, one that seemed to make her shine. "Hi, Boom. What's up?"

"The sky," he said automatically, then cringed. "I am so sorry. I'm a…" The word idiot was on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't say it. Bubbles would be mad if he said it. "My brain works funny," he said instead.

She shrugged. "I mean, you're right though. The sky is up."

"Yeah. Aha…"

Why the hell were his palms so sweaty? It had to be, like, no more than forty degrees outside and he was wearing a thin hoodie, and yet here he was, about to sweat out something the size of the Atlantic.

Speak, idiot. "Um. Anyways. Is there, like, any way you can help me with Keane's assignment? I'm having a hard time trying to narrow things down," Boomer said.

Bubbles nodded. "Sure! I finished it a few days ago. What do you need help with specifically?"

Blossom was right. Of course, she was. "Sorting out my thoughts," he said. "Everything's just… stacking up on one another. Kind of overwhelming."

"Gotcha." Without hesitation, Bubbles sat down, then patted the patch of grass in front of her. "C'mon. Join me."

"Sit? On the grass?"

"Yeah! Unless you're afraid of some grass stains."

"Hell no. 'Sides, it's Brick's turn to do laundry."

Bubbles let out a gentle laugh as Boomer plopped down in front of her. From this angle, the November sun cast a soft glow on her face, perfectly complimenting her rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes.

(Stop thinking about her like that.)

"I know it's a pretty deep question, the one Keane asked us," Bubbles said, bringing Boomer back from his thoughts. "But I think getting other opinions won't help much for this. So we're going to try and organize what's already in your head. Just close your eyes, okay?"

Boomer did as he was told. "Okay. Now what?"

"Think. What makes you feel like everything is gonna be fine?"

Boomer bit back a smile. "This is sounding familiar, like, haunted house familiar."

"What? Your advice was pretty good." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"For you, maybe. Nothing's coming up in here." Boomer pressed his pointer finger to his head. "Nothing but dust bunnies. Or, well, not even that. It's just... dark here."

"Be patient. It takes time," Bubbles said. He felt her fingers tap on his hands. "Here, hold my hands. Maybe that'll help."

It was not going to help. Boomer knew that the moment she offered. But he had a hard time saying no to her. "O-Okay."

It was a bit funny. Boomer had held her hands before, and yet here he was, still nervous about it. Her fingers curled into his palms once he slid them on top of hers, and he could feel the prick of a rose. It wasn't painful, though. It felt a bit calming in a way.

"Now, go on," Bubbles said gently. "Think, Boomer."

And just like that, the darkness around him began to take form.

There was a lot to see. There were his brothers, who were extremely annoying but also always there in his time of need. There were Captain Spaceman comics and trading cards on his rickety bunk bed, the easy cure to all his bad moods. There were cold winter days with his favorite chipped mug filled to the brim with hot chocolate.

Those were obvious. Very needed, very appreciated, but very obvious. He needed to see more.

So, Boomer looked further, and his mind answered in flashes.

A bracelet with his name and tilted sandcastles. The outdoor courtyard and hidden alleyways at Pokey Oaks High. Snowball fights and simulator fights against a respected rival. Ferris Wheels, stupid haunted houses, and coffee that had just the right amount of sugar. And brightest of all, in the tips of his mind, there was a girl whose smile looked like sunshine, whose hair poofed out in neatly tied pigtails, whose delicate feet stood amongst a large field of crocuses, and whose face looked exactly like—

"You."

Boomer's eyes snapped open the moment that word escaped him. His hands shook and he snatched them back, gripping onto his jeans. When Bubbles slowly opened her own eyes, the feeling in his gut—a warm, tingly thing that felt too comforting—confirmed everything.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

"I… what?" Bubbles asked. She tilted her head and looked at him in a way that showed that she truly did not know the true meaning of what he just said.

And. Well. In a way, he supposed he always knew. He just didn't want to place a name on the feeling. There was always that part of him that was gushy instead of hard steel, the part of him that wanted to cup her face in his hands and just stare at every detail for hours, the part that wanted to kiss her until he lost his breath. He could think and think and think about Bubbles Utonium for no other purpose other than to see her and take her in.

But that was not for now. That wasn't for any time. Not in this life.

"You… were really helpful. I know what I'm thankful for now." Boomer forced himself to not shake as much as his body wanted to as he stood up. That word kept bouncing in his brain. You, you, you. "Thanks. I'm gonna go write it now."

Bubbles looked proud of him, and that made this whole thing ten times worse. She shouldn't be proud. She should be disgusted. She should blast him to pieces. She should never talk to him again.

"Cool! Glad I could help!" Bubbles got up as well, and that sense of pride never left her. How unfortunate. "See you tomorrow?"

"Bright and early," Boomer said, and wow, he never wished for a conversation to end as quickly as this one.

The moment Bubbles had got up to turn around and skip back to the tree she was once sitting in, Boomer's face went from a grin to a look of absolute terror. His legs immediately took him away from The Square, away from Bubbles. And yet that feeling grew and grew. That feeling burned, and it didn't seem like it would go away. He tried to stuff it away, tried to put it in a box.

But it stayed. It persisted. It grew.

Maybe if he kept walking, he'd reach the end of the Earth. He'd go where no human went before. He'd be far away from everything, and if he stayed by himself long enough, then he could escape his feelings for—

A hand grabbed at his collar and stopped him in his tracks, blocking his escape.

"Boomer." Blossom's voice sent chills down Boomer's spine. Out of all people, he did not want to see her. "Did you find some answers?"

Boomer found some answers, all right. But not the one he was looking for.

"I'll take your silence as a yes," Blossom continued. She let him go and placed her hand in her lap. "Remember what I said. I do not doubt your decisions, no matter which way you lean toward."

Suddenly, it clicked. "You knew," Boomer said quietly. "You knew that I... How I felt about Bubbles. Didn't you?"

"As I typically do, yes."

Boomer's shoulders slumped. "Fuck. I really am dumb."

"No. You're smart, so very smart. And only you know what's best for you." Before she turned back to her crochet project, she held a gentle yet firm hand on one of his shoulders. "Good luck again. And take it easy."

Take it easy. Take it easy. Take it easy. Maybe if he kept saying it as he continued his walk home, he could do it.

Take it easy, Boomer. Take it fucking easy.

Okay, so taking it easy was easier said than done.

Boomer set down his pen at the Jojo brother's crappy shared desk and stared at his complete discussion response. He could hear Brick's insufferable snoring while Butch turned a bit in his sleep. The moon's light was still bright as he leaned back in his chair, taking in all the words on the paper.

It was surprisingly simple to write once things were put into perspective for him. There were a lot of things to be grateful for, and this assignment seemed to be a wake-up call.

However, it wasn't the wake-up call he wanted.

"Fuck," he muttered, and he buried his head in his hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Butch rustled some more. Brick snored some more. And Boomer... He felt the whole world crashing right in front of him.

This assignment was supposed to distract him. Homework was always a good way for him to push away his thoughts for a few moments at the very least. But now that he was awake—not just literally, but figuratively as well—and now that he knew what he knew, he couldn't stop his body from shaking.

Boomer remembered how Buttercup claimed that he liked her younger sister a few months back. He remembered Blossom's sneaky smiles, how she always led him in her youngest sister's direction. He remembered HIM's smile from just a few hours ago, so teasing, so knowing.

Concentrate on what matters.

This shouldn't matter. But despite everything, it did. It mattered so, so much.

He stumbled into bed without changing into his pajamas. He'd regret it in the morning. Sleeping in jeans was so uncomfortable. He deserved to be uncomfortable though. Maybe it would snap some sense into them.

He gripped onto Furball. Stared into its beady eyes. "You got any ideas?" he whispered to it.

Boomer waited. He knew he'd get no answer, but he still imagined a response anyway. You've got to let it go, dad. You've got to let her go. You've got to get it together.

He sighed and buried himself completely under his covers. The darkness was comforting. Hopefully, nothing more would reveal itself there.

And yet, it did, even in the darkness of his dreams.

Boomer didn't know a lot of things. He wasn't as smart as Brick, didn't have hidden knowledge like Butch. He didn't have brains anywhere near his creators. If he were being honest, he would say that he had about as much knowledge as the average potato chip.

But he did know one thing. Maybe he had always known and buried it deep down, or maybe he found out at that moment. It didn't matter though, because at the end of the day, he knew and he could never ignore it again.

He stared at her. Stared at how his mind formed a carbon copy of her. Stared at the way she smiled, stared at the way she laughed, stared at the way her lips looked when she said his name.

That warm feeling continued to grow in his gut.

Well, shit. He couldn't deny it anymore.

Boomer Jojo knew that he had a big ass crush on Bubbles Utonium.

A/N Oh... We're really nearing the end, huh? Two chapters left ahaha... :')

Another big thanks for reading up until this point! I've enjoyed all of your comments and seeing that so many people are interested in this silly little fic. Colder months are when my motivation tends to go down the drain, plus I have a killer pinched nerve in my neck. But I'm trying my hardest to keep up the content on the due dates! (Apologies for any mistakes, though. I promise to proofread... one day. Not anytime soon. Proofreading is a disease.

Speaking of due dates, the next chapter should be released on or around December 4th. Hopefully, I'll be in better shape! ^v^

Next Chapter: December

The most wonderful time of the year.