5:45 P.M.
Ms. Mint's car pulled into the driveway, glistening gold glint glimmering in the sunlight. Her Top Secret Japanese model slid smoothly into place along the perimeter of the car, as Pippa did not like to pull into the garage unless she absolutely felt it necessary. She truly didn't have to work, she did not have to get dressed up nice and drive away daily in order to make a living. Her mother's passing had left her side of the family with more than enough money than they knew what to do with so she could very well spend all of her time at home, but being cooped up like that did not suit her tastes in the slightest.
Not to mention, as much as she loved her nephew, he wasn't the most sociable at home, and tended to bring home random boys that made her uncomfortable, not so much for any studying.
She entered the home in a cheery mood, whistling an old show tune. Flame greeted Pippa at the door, awkwardly taking her coat into his scrawny arms and placing it on the hanger, although the faux fur seemed to weigh more than he did.
Ms. Mint practically skipped onto the beauteous kitchen that she was so blessed to call her own, dropping smiles with every step. Today has been a particularly great day at work, Pippa had successfully met her weekly quota, and some customer had so graciously complimented her eyeliner job, so all was well. It was a wee bit shocking to her person that her makeup would be praised on the day she spent the least amount of time on it, but Ms. Mint was certainly not one to question good things.
Unlike her nephew, who even now, as she entered the kitchen, was doing just that.
Bubba sat at the wooden table with its clean cherry finish, squinting at a pile of index cards as if he expected one of them to draw a pistol and end his life at any given moment. On each card Marshall's scribbly handwriting could be seen, messy blue-ink ramblings etched into striped rectangles.
Song quotes, Mint mused, after a quick glance at the handwritten collection of text, the cards are covered in song quotes.
The longer Ms. Mint stared, the more she could practically picture the song playing in her head; if given more time to evaluate the lyrics she would have surely matched them to a particular Pierces song, but Bubba caught her glance at last and covered them with his hands, wrapping the index cards in loving embrace.
Bubba's once hateful stare melted into one of pure embarrassment, the ocean changing tides along the pristine lines of his face. He refused to look his aunt in the eye.
Bubba held the cards in his lap now, still warming them with his soothing touch. The whole situation was really quite interesting, and Pippa felt the urge to pry, as it was more than unusual to see her nephew so protective of some flimsy inanimate objects, especially those that just a moment ago he had appeared to despise.
"I didn't hear you walk in."
"Well, in your defense you were quite distracted by whatever that is you're trying so desperately to hide from me," she sung, gleefully patting his head before making her way to their sparkling refrigerator. Bubba blushed, rolling his eyes at his aunt, and retreating silently to his room as if nothing had ever happened.
Ms. Mint had learned over time to be cautious with the familial touches, though Bubba did not always voice his discomfort certain kinds of affection made him squirm a little, and too much physical contact quite easily revealed he was still pretty untrusting of any form of legal guardian, still ready to jump into defense mode at the drop of a hat. It wasn't anything personal, he was just still very selective about he would and wouldn't tolerate, and given his situation it wasn't all that alarming.
Pats on the head were acceptable on occasion (despite being a little cheesy and embarrassing), hugs and kisses were not.
For some reason, for the boys he brought home the rules were quite different.
The loving aunt hummed softly to herself as she prepared dinner, joining along in the symphony of the birds that were residents of the surrounding woodsy area. She cracked open the kitchen window that hung lazily just over the sink so both musical parties could better hear each other, and continued in her work. Swirls of now-fading sunlight splashed and bounced among the colorful walls, singing in delight. Within a fair amount of time the previously vacant room now exploded with the aromas of cheesy lasagna, a scent that wildly contrasted to the clean, almost soapy scent that could typically be smelt in any individual room of the house.
As usual Mint did not have to call her nephew down to eat because he automatically appeared once dinner was ready. The less spoken word involved in their interaction, the more at ease he appeared to be.
For a Tuesday everything had actually run quite smoothly for the both of them, and although Bubba was certain not to mention it, he too had indeed had a great day, possibly the best one since ever. So they both sat on their clouds of exuberance, silently enjoying the only meal they ever shared in a single given day. Bubba had not brought the cards back down with them and Pippa was still very much intrigued by what their purpose may have been, or the source from which he received them because there was no way he would ever personally form words so sloppily. But Bubs hated being questioned, and she wasn't sure if now was the best time to test the waters anyways. Honestly, there would likely never be a best time, and either she accepted that as fact or he would likely grow to hate her for being just as nagging and forceful of everyone else.
Bubba's aunt had the same sad eyes as his mother despite her joyous persona, and Bubba did as well. They sunk in slightly more than necessary; their pupils were wide yet their eyelids sagged like aging skin. Secretly, Bubba wondered if this meant it was possible that his aunt had also been harassed by his father for her appearances, but he would never actually question her on this, nor would he even low-key imply it. Sometimes knowledge wasn't everything, if it came at the risk of further exposing oneself.
Marshall's eyes were entirely different. Marshall's eyes were butterflies locked in glass chambers, frozen over in perpetuum and coated in a layer of thin ice that held onto them through the loneliest of nights. Marshall's eyes were freaky, but pretty at the same time, and it did not hurt that they came with the whole package.
Then again, it kind of had to hurt, didn't it? In a different kind of way.
It was as they bathed the grimy dishes in soapy water that the home phone rang, a tear in the canvas of a previously picturesque evening.
Ms. Mint, being the social butterfly of their miniature family, rushed to pick it up, only to pause the moment she saw the font laced so firmly along the rectangular phone screen.
Her usually bright smile was now ashes on an incense burner, she stared silently at the phone while she struggled to comprehend what she had just seen.
Suds bubbled and flooded the sink, pushing up towards the skylines and then down towards the tile in frantic motions. Bubba was off-put by this kind of behavior and had stopped scrubbing at invisible food crumbs, the sink was leaking and his mind was leaking and the house had been entirely flooded with panic and void and soapy dishwater.
"Who is it?" he asked, it was hard to hear him through the bubbles but he asked anyways,
"Who's calling, aren't you going to pick up?"
And she could have answered honestly, his aunt could have read aloud the name she had seen on the ID section of the glowing screen and ruined everything. But she didn't.
"No one," she informed him, picking up the phone and then hanging it back up again so that the violent screams of the machine would finally come to a complete end.
"Absolutely no one." Pippa did not look so happy anymore, she looked weary and old, a hollowed out walnut with crackly skin, like one of those inhuman old ladies one might find in Syfy horror movies, despite the fact that in actuality she was barely thirty years old, despite the fact that she was in perfect condition and exercised regularly.
The next day, all of their phones had been disconnected. Neither party talked about it.
I didn't update last week because of this fun thing called I spent all week tryna write it and made 10 different drafts and they all sucked, so apologies for being a liar scumbag. And someone commented on Tuesday/Wednesday ish and I thought for sure they were gonna be like: "where is chapter you scum?" But they actually said they read all 31 chapters in a row and loved it so much, so my heart melted. You guys are too sweet to an undeserving liar such as myself. But do your work too! I don't want you to get in trouble because of my fascination with gay fictional characters.
Perpetuum is such a beautiful word guys, goddamn. Not even sure if that's how you spell it but the online dictionaries have it as a real word in that spelling? ehhhhhhh
This isn't the chapter I thought I'd put up but I tried