That afternoon, One actually joined Two and Eight in doing a few household chores, such as washing up lasts nights dishes and hoovering. Eight actually found, with the addition of One, that it was quite enjoyable. Deep down, he knew One actually wanted to spend a little time with Two, which made him grin uncontrollably, much to One's embarrassment.
"Why do you keep smiling like that?" Two asked, with confusion. Eight shrugged, lifting up the vacuum cleaner with a grin. "Ask One." He said, cryptically, as he left to hoover another part of the house. Two turned to One with a quizzical expression and One wanted to murder Eight.
"Uh..."
Eight smiled as he climbed the stairs. Hopefully he had given One a prime opportunity to talk to Two (or alternatively, for Two to interrogate One). He decided he'd clean the top floor in the meantime. Once he climbed the stairs, he plugged the vacuum into an outlet and...
Wait.
He stood dead still for a moment. He could've sworn he heard something...
There it was again.
It sounded like...hiccups. He edged towards the sound, only to find it was coming from...Six's room?
He lingered there for a moment, listening carefully. It wasn't hiccuping. It sounded like...crying. Was...Six crying?
Eight cringed. He hadn't meant to make Six cry. Maybe he should apologise. He knocked on the door, as gently as he could muster. The faint sniffling stopped.
"...W-what?" Six replied, weakly.
"Can I come in?" Eight asked, gently. Six remained silent. "C'mon. I'm not gonna lecture you, okay?" He wasn't sure what else to say. Luckily, this seemed to be enough for Six. "Fine." He said, shakily.
Eight slowly pushed the door open, to find Six curled up in a ball on his bed. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and Eight felt a stab of guilt. "H-Hey...I didn't mean to snap at you earlier..." He said, awkwardly. Six frowned and swallowed thickly.
"I'm not crying over you." He spat, although he was too upset to be effectively venomous. Eight tilted his head in curiosity. "Then...why were you crying?"
Six sat upright. "It's none of your business." He wiped his nose on his sleeve, glaring at Eight. Eight sat down beside him, making the bed creak painfully. "I guess not..." He admitted. "Even so...will you tell me what's got you down?" He asked.
Six stared down, sadly. "It's just...You wouldn't get it..." He sighed, bitterly. Eight raised an eyebrow. "You don't know that." He said, softly. Six groaned loudly, clearly not wanting Eight to say that. That meant he had to tell him now.
"Yeah, well...uh..." He stammered slightly. Looking at him now, he looked terrible. The bags under his eyes, usually a dark purple, were now red and blotchy after lots of crying. His unkempt hair was even more matted and greasy than normal and he smelled...really bad.
"Is this why you haven't been looking after yourself?" Eight asked, sternly. Six picked at his fingernails, wearing a guilty expression. "Maybe..." He mumbled. He looked as if he was about to cry again. Eight winced. He didn't want to make him cry again. He did, however, want to know what the problem was.
"Will you tell me what it is?" Eight asked again. Six sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with this. He might as well just tell him.
"I got...a letter from my dad, back home..." His voice cracked slightly and Eight could tell this wasn't going to end well. Letters from parents never ended well. He swallowed thickly. "Okay...what did it say?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
"He said...he told me..." Fresh tears appeared in his eyes, slowly spilling down his cheeks as he choked. "He told me...not to bother coming back home." He whimpered. Eight's eyes widened a fraction. He told him that? A brief vision flashed across his eyes of his own father telling him not to come back home. The thought along sent a stab to his gut.
"He told...h-he said I was more trouble that I was worth. That there was no point. H-He told me n-never to come back..." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that had already fallen. He sobbed loudly, wiping his eyes furiously. Eight felt bad for even asking. It was true that Six had some...problems that made him troublesome, but that didn't mean there was no point in helping him. He was a genuinely good kid, and talented too. He just tended to rub people the wrong way more often than not with his eccentric behaviour.
The best he could offer now, was some physical comfort. He pulled Six into a hug, as he cried and clung onto his shirt. He wrapped his arms around him and rested his head atop his head, murmuring calming things.
"You're okay...you're gonna be okay..."
"I...I'm not...I-I don't have anybody left." He sniffled. "That's not true." Eight told him, softly. "You have us. And you're not the only one who hasn't got anybody. Two has lived here for years and years and he hasn't got a family left." He gently squeezed Six's shoulders. He wasn't sure if Two wanted him to tell Six that but it seemed to give Six some comfort that he wasn't alone.
"He considers us his family, y'know. Even you." He smiled, ruefully. Six looked taken aback, but he gave a weak smile. "I...guess."
"And you got me too. I told you I care for you. Even if you don't care for me back." He poked his cheek in a teasing manner and Six gave a tiny laugh. He still looked incredibly sad, however. Eight knew he couldn't magically cheer him up, no matter how much he wanted to.
"I...I'm sorry I was mean to you..." He said, sorrowfully. "I just thought...since my dad didn't think I was worth it, nobody else really would either. It just seemed like I was wasting your time." Eight ruffled his hair affectionately. "Well, you were wrong." He stated. "And it doesn't help to dwell on it either. C'mon, I know where Five hides his ice cream." He said, with a smile. He knew it was far from enough to heal the wound, but it would do a good job of cheering him up for the moment. Six looked blank, before a smile broke out on his face.
"Sounds fun." He said, quietly.
Eight felt guilty for coaxing Six to tell him what was wrong. In fact, it made Eight feel a little bit sick inside as well, but he couldn't let Six wallow in his misery alone. Eight wasn't sure if he'd ever actually get over something like this, he knew he wouldn't had it been his own father, but he silently vowed to help him however he could.
Despite the sorrow, he felt as if he'd gotten to know Six a little better. Six confided in him with something that had torn him up greatly and it made him feel better to know Six didn't actually hate him. Secretly, he'd always been a bit jealous of Six, being both talented and rather good looking. When Six told him going to classes was pointless, he felt a horrible surge of anger. He didn't have to work hard to do well, unlike Eight. It came naturally to him.
Eight had to admit, he felt guilty for getting snappy with Six. Obviously, he had no idea about what his dad had said, but that didn't stop him from feeling horrible about it.
Once they arrived downstairs, they passed Two, who grinned at them. "Glad to see you're up, Six." He said, kindly, and Six flushed slightly. Eight nudged him with a knowing look. "See." He whispered, "I told you we care about you." Six rolled his eyes, shoving his ink-stained hands deep into his pockets in a moody fashion.
As Eight went to retrieve the ice cream from the depths of the freezer, he spotted One sat on the couch, smiling to himself. Which meant something good happened earlier. He thrust the ice cream into the waiting hands of Six, who wasted no time in grabbing the biggest spoon he could find, before plodding over and sitting next to him.
"I'm guessing it went well?" He asked, with a knowing grin. One actually hadn't noticed them come in, and jumped slightly in surprise. "Huh? Oh. Yes..." He trailed, clearly trying to hide his face. "
What did he say?"
"It's none of your business what he said."
"Actually, I'll think you'll find, it has everything to do with me, since I pretty much made the whole thing happen." He said, proudly. One sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "Fine. If you're so desperate to know..."
"Naturally."
"I...just told him I suppose. I mean, it wasn't like he was going to let me go until I did, thanks to you." He glared. Eight grinned as widely as possible, "So...he told me I was an idiot, since he'd been trying to get in my pants since 1995." Eight's eyes widened fractionally at this, and he snorted. "Are you serious? Wow, that's...intense." That was 10 years of subtle flirting and failed pants invasions.
"Don't I know it. I'm guessing things went okay down your end." One eyed Six, who was sat on the counter, digging away at the tub of ice cream with a spoon that could barely fit into his mouth. Eight went a bit pink. "He'd...had a bit of a rough week. It's not my place to say but...I don't think he'll be leaving for a long time." He mumbled, and One looked intrigued.
"Family gone?"
"More like family don't want him."
"Ah...well nobody's going to kick him out of here, even if he does track mud and ink everywhere...or if he drinks from the carton...or if he never cleans up behind himself...or if he bites his fucking toenails at the table..." One muttered. It was true, Six did have a lot of bad habits, but he had a lot of good qualities that made up for it...
...probably.
ship no.1 has sailed prepare yourselves
