Chapter 38

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You stayed outside longer than usual. N had stayed in the cottage. He was busying himself by cleaning. The repetitive motion of him scrubbing the dishes until they shined, kept his heart from racing. He hadn't known that he was a stress cleaner. He found some semblance of control in it. The scrubbing, the constant back and forth, the pulling and pushing. The buddles engulfed his hands, nimble fingers grew pink from the temperature of the water. The slight burn kept his eyes from wandering around the house to the rest of the chores.
He counted preserves that you had started to teach to him and yourself. Five jars of plums, four peaches, four jars of pickles. He counted and redid the rows of jars. They must have been pushed together by the Lampent who had been showing up late at night for snacks. Just thinking about the Lampent made N reach for the pokemon food that he had made. With a small dish, he waited for you to return as he sat outside feeding the deerling that liked to pick through your work-in-progress garden.
The soil was upturned, you had thoroughly dug down to rip up as much of the weed's roots as you could. You said something about wildflower seeds, but he could tell that this was going to be full of vegetables. Wire cages rested beside the garden, leaves piled around it. Your stolen planters filled with plants still surviving in the cooler fall air had started to lose their colors.
The deerling's ears flicked up at a noise N couldn't catch. Their eyes then darted to the sound of rustling leaves. Your footsteps were soft as you looked at the fallen branches and the scattered logs. You glided over the yellowing grass. Your arms were filled with mushrooms and berries but you had something clutched in your hand. Your eyes met with N's for a moment, you saw the bundle of deerling nibbling at N's feet, and you stuffed your hand into your pocket.
Beautiful bright red mushrooms. You demanded that no one touch them. You carefully pulled off the tops and placed them in a damp container. You left the container tucked into a dark corner with a written reminder for no one to touch it. Then you had to actually get ready for a dinner you never wanted to go to.
You weren't quite sure what to wear. You had bought a few things after getting a job but you had opted to fix the cottage and get other more immediate needs before nicer clothes. You didn't think that it would even matter, if he didn't like it he would send you away to change into something better suited for dinner. So you grabbed your small little bag of niessities your hands fiddling with the strap the intire time.
Maybe you should have thought of a way to get out. To run away again. This time perhaps you would have vanished into the woods in a random direction. Perhaps you should have saved up for a tent and lived like that. Yet as the large shinny car, that costs hundreds of times more than your wonky little cabin, pulled up to collect you, you felt surprisingly calm.
You and N sat in the back. Like a stereotypical rich person car, there was a divider between the driver and the passagers in the back. You hated every second of it. Quietly looking out the window, shutting N out of your head. This whole thing had been about you, as soon as it was over you would make sure to make it only about him.
And as grazing pokemon and the large empty fields replaced the forest and city that you knew, you realized that you were heading not to some gross fancy restaurant but to the house that you once lived in.
You stopped looking outside. You were accompanied by N, your thoughts, and the bouncing of the car as it traveled through the countryside. You rocked and the car jumped over a dip in the road. It stumbled and made you feel as if you would slam facefirst into the seat in front of you. The bumpy ride made you anxious. A lose thread that if pulled it wouldn't just snap, but would drag out, causinf the fabric of your heart to tear and fray, leaving you with a giant hole in your chest. That's the world or metephors, words trapping your thoughts and feelings into stained glass, something that can be easily broken, yet tis a beautiful picture of a mangled corpse catching the light of the sun. You would make sure of one thing though, N wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.
The door opened a few moments after the car came to a stop. The grand entrance, with doors towering over your head. The cameras still in their usual spots, stared down at you their dark eye watching your movements.

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