Busyhead | Technoblade

Twenty-Nine | Serious Streamers

[a/n : i should be writing an essay rn]

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TEAGAN HUMMED TO HERSELF AS SHE ASCENDED THE STAIRS TO HER APARTMENT, HER EYES FOCUSED ON THE STACK OF MAIL IN HER HANDS. There was plenty of garbage, as there usually was, but there was also an assortment of bills and early birthday cards. Mina's was on top, sent a week early, despite Teagan's constant reassurance that there was no need for her to send a card. Tucked between her phone bill and a spam flyer from a relator was an envelope addressed to her, written in her mother's dainty handwriting.

Teagan sighed as she pushed her front door open, clicking it shut behind her. She discarded the rest of her mail onto her kitchen counter, holding onto only the two cards her family had sent needlessly early. Her birthday wasn't for another couple of weeks, but Teagan pushed past the early arrival of the cards. At least her parents didn't forget this year.

She flipped Mina's envelope over to open it, but stopped short upon seeing the black letters scribbled onto the back.

IF YOU OPEN THIS BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.

Teagan rolled her eyes, sighing as she set the card to the side. She would put it on her desk when she went into her room, but there was no point in doing that now. With a begrudging frown, she returned her attention to the card from her parents. There was nothing more than the typical address information written on it, a memory of Teagan's youthful days swinging her feet above the ground as she silently watched her mother sign Christmas cards. The message inside every card was always the same, regardless of who her mother was sending it to. She had it memorized, and the process was robotic.

Hence why Teagan was expecting very little from the card. She tore it open, pulling the card from its sleeve with just a bit of struggle. It was a very generic little card, a floral pattern adorning the front. It was one of those blank cards, the kind that have absolutely no theme or significance.

Teagan opened the card, and a pit formed in her stomach. She had thought she would be prepared for the bare minimum, but she apparently had kept her hopes up anyway. The white inside of the card was vastly barren, filled only in small part by her mother's handwriting. It read only the generic message of

Happy birthday, Teagan. May this year treat you better than the last.

Her parents' signatures were at the bottom, side by side in perfect order. Teagan stared at the card for just a moment before she snapped it shut, tossing it onto the top of the pile of bills and ads. She knew that later, when she went to take her garbage out, she would leave the card from her parents sitting on her table. It would sit there for months, and eventually, she would shove it in the same drawer that she shoved all the others into. But it was nice to pretend like she intended to throw it away.

She grabbed her water bottle, doing her best to push thoughts of her parents from her head. The efforts were in vain, as she knew they would be, as they always were. How hard was it to write the word "love" in a birthday card, and why hadn't they done it since she turned nine? She and Mina talked about it frequently, but it never seemed to bother the older girl much. Teagan, however, did the same run around every year. It was exhausting, but as much as she told herself she had grown out of it, she knew she hadn't.

Once in her room, she tucked Mina's card into a safe place on her desk, making a mental note to remember that it was there. She took a swig from her bottle as she sat down in her chair, peering curiously at her phone. Her messages were littered with notifications, all from the same group chat.