Since he spent most of his day at home, while the majority of his housemates were in college, he usually took it upon himself to do some chores. They didn't function as individual housemates here; they functioned as a family. They were close enough to all sit down for dinner together, do their laundry together and generally spend a lot of time together. Eight often felt redundant, after all he didn't attend college like the other housemates his age, and often spent his spare time doing small chores that would benefit the whole house. It made him feel just a little more important.
Of course, he didn't do this alone. Despite being the landlord, One actually didn't clean the house himself. He merely kept his own room in order and left the rest of the house for the others. Curiously enough, he didn't actually spend much time anywhere else but his room. Eight often wondered just what he got up to in there.
It was normally Eight and Two, who did most of the household chores as a team. Two also worked from home and, although he had a sunny, outgoing personality, he could be quite reclusive. Nonetheless, he was happy to help out and the two spent afternoon after afternoon making sure the house was tidy. Cleaning was fun with a friend.
During these times, Eight learned quite a bit about the older man. He never actually disclosed his age, but he did confide in Eight that he was reaching fifty very soon. He'd grown up in Ireland and moved over in his twenties.
Come to think of it, all his housemates seemed to migrate here from different parts of the world. Eight, himself, was born in Brazil, to an American mother and a Brazilian father. He'd moved over as a child, but his father was adamant about teaching him Portuguese.
It was his first home than gave him a slightly deeper connection with Seven. Seven was actually born in Argentina and moved over as a child. Since they were both of South American descent, they immediately felt connected and became friends.
One was actually Russian, (which made sense when you thought about it) but it was impossible to tell, until he got mad and starting yelling in his native tongue. He had no hint of a Russian accent, and Eight assumed he'd been living here for years, much like himself.
Two, as previously mentioned, was Irish born, but he spoke like an english nobleman. Around two weeks ago, he revealed to Eight that his accent was actually put on, because if he spoke in his natural Irish accent, nobody would understand a single word he said. Eight had laughed at that for about ten minutes.
Three and Four, despite being born elsewhere and to different parents, actually grew up in Taiwan. They had a collection of souvenirs from their old home, which they absolutely loved to show off. You could tell they were itching to open their mouths and ramble on about their beloved home, but destroyed vocal chords prevented them from doing so, sadly enough. Nonetheless, that didn't stop them from shoving books on Taiwan into everybody's face.
Five was born in Australia without a doubt, but life away from home for several years had worn his accent away. It wasn't completely gone, however, and there was just the slightest tinge of an accent left. Despite his timid disposition, he was well accustomed to large insects and arachnids, so he was the designated spider catcher. It almost felt ironic.
Six hailed from Iceland, a place Eight didn't even know existed until he met him. Similar to Eight and Seven's Southern American connection, there was a European connection between One and Six. Mainly because there were lots of similarities between their respective languages. Personally, Six tended to stay out of One's way, for obvious reasons.
Nine was American, plain and simple, but had apparently lived in Spain for a good ten years as a child. With Seven's native language also being Spanish, the two got along extraordinarily well.
Meeting so many people from so many places was overwhelming for Eight, who was quite socially stunted, but it was something they all had in common and it made for a perfect icebreaker. At the very least, Eight didn't feel in any way inferior about his background compared to his housemates. He couldn't begin to imagine how awkward he'd feel if he was just plain American. That would be another reason to add to the 'Why I Don't Belong Here' list.
In fact, the very fact that they all hailed from different countries made Eight feel just a little more at home here. They didn't have complex backstories involving each other and they had never met before now. It was comforting and slightly scary, but he could deal with it.
"Could you pass me the detergent box, Eight?"
First on the list, typically, was the laundry. Between all nine of them, there were enough garments to fully clothe every single person in Wales. It took about five or six washes to clean everything and often could take an entire day to do.
Two was busy shoving a pile of clothes into the washing machine, as Eight sorted and folded the clean batch. After folding all of the clean clothes, he had a habit of leaving each individual pile outside their respective rooms, which made it easier for the others to pick up. Despite being a fairly burly fellow, he respected cleanliness. He didn't have many personal belongings, so keeping his room clean wasn't much of a chore, unlike Two, who was a hoarder.
Eight had tried on several occasions to clean Two's room, for his own sake, and failed. Two actually barricaded his door one time, and he barricaded it so well Eight couldn't budge the immovable wall of crap. He would've been impressed, if he wasn't already annoyed. He acted like a child more often than not and even though that was a loveable quality, it could be a curse.
The older man looked over to him and smiled. He was, for his age, quite youthful in appearance. (Eight suspected his childish demeanour had something to do with it). He was physically quite stunted. Apparently he suffered from some kind of growth disorder, so he was shorter and more frail than most people. He was about the same size as a teenager, and probably much thinner. His bones protruded slightly from underneath his paper white skin, particularly around his wrists and elbows.
He had long red hair; very long, held up in a ponytail and had very, very faint freckles. He wore thin, rectangular glasses and generally dressed smartly, even though he rarely went out. Despite his youthful looks, his face showed some signs of age.
"Are you alright, Eight?" He asked, in a chipper tone. Eight gave a small smile and nodded. "I'm fine. Just got caught thinking about stuff." Two tilted his head in curiosity, urging Eight to explain. Eight sighed.
"I can't live here forever, can I? I mean...my job is fairly stable. I have more than enough money to stay here, but can I really spend my life in a shared house? I feel like I should have ambitions."
Eight wasn't a big fan of major change. Moving from Brazil was the biggest change he'd had to face and he didn't like it one bit at the time. Two gave a short laugh and shrugged. "It's not a bad thing. I have ambitions, but they're hardly achievable within my lifetime. And I've been living here for years!"
The two shared a laugh, but Eight still felt uneasy.
"What about your family?" Two asked, curiously. Eight paused for a moment. "My dad's a soldier, so I haven't seen him for a long while. My mother still lives in Brazil with my younger siblings." He explained, folding a white shirt with utter precision. Two looked intrigued. "You have siblings? How many?"
Eight couldn't stop the smile from emerging on his face. "I have two younger sisters, a younger brother and an older brother and sister." He said, fondly. Two beamed. "Oh my, that's lovely. Tell me about them!" He insisted, and Eight didn't want to say no.
"Well, my oldest sister is about twenty seven, and my brother is twenty five. My two younger sisters are fourteen and twelve and my youngest brother is six." He loved his family dearly and was always the typical 'big brother' role model to his younger siblings, whom he adored. He loved having a big family; it felt more homely.
"You got any?"
"I had a twin sister."
Eight felt incredibly uncomfortably not only by the inventors words, but his tone of voice. Although he was smiling, his voice sounded empty and his eyes were clouded.
"Uh.."
Two smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. She passed away a long time ago. Must've been about...sixteen years old, I think. Had leukaemia." He spoke in such a casual manner but Eight knew he was hurting inside. He couldn't physically imagine what it would be like to lose his siblings. He didn't want to, either.
"I'm sorry." He said, softly, and Two patted his shoulder. "Honestly, don't be. It was well over thirty years ago now. These things happen." He said, with a shrug, but that didn't make Eight feel any better. Two could sense this.
"What about girlfriends? You never mentioned a girlfriend, before. Would you consider settling down?" He asked, with a silly grin. Eight suddenly felt his mood rocket upwards and he smiled out of embarrassment.
"I don't think I'm ready for a girlfriend. I have a hard enough time making friends, let alone girlfriends." He gave a humourless laugh and Two rolled his eyes. "Come, now, I'm sure there's a girl out there for you somewhere." He teased, and Eight felt his face become heated. Was he really discussing his love life now? He'd done his best to completely sidestep the topic and now it was staring him in the face. Maybe it was the problem?
"I don't know if I want a girlfriend or not. Maybe I'm not into girls or whatever. I dunno." He shrugged, but instantly regretted his words. Oh god, Two wasn't one of those homophobic, racist kind of old man, was he? Eight began to internally fret, but his worries were washed away by Two's melodic laughter.
"Well there's nothing stopping you."
Eight felt...surprised. He felt guilty for feeling surprised. Two was a perfectly lovely man, and every time he had a worrying thought that he was this kind of person or that kind of person, he felt guilty every time. He combed through his hair awkwardly.
"You're not...freaked out by what I said are you?" Of course, it was more of a joke that anything else, but people often tended to take it seriously. Two almost looked offended by this statement.
"Eight."
"What?"
"You know I'm gay, don't you?"
The blush that continually threatened to make an appearance on Eight's face finally came through. God, that was such a stupid thing to ask! Why did he even ask? Although, it was kind of comforting to know...
"I...I didn't know." He said, lamely and Two chuckled softly. "It's alright. I never told you did I? I kind of assumed you'd figure it out or something." He said, amicably. Eight cracked a smile. "I can see why you assumed that."
Just a lil insight into the characters homes and Two's character. Just a liiitttle. I don't really like this chapter. i'm kind of winging this entire story so as for what happens next, your guess is as good as mine! of course, ships will happen, but that's standard.
