Capt.Spaceboy's P.O.V
I stumbled into the hallway. I'm trying to stop thinking about what just happened. It isn't working. I closed my eyes attempting to block out Sweetheart's muffled shouts from wherever. Why do I always let this happen to me?
Me and Sweetheart had a fight again. Of course we did.
I found myself in the stage room. I leant against the wall to give myself a moment to unwind. My head hurt. I could still hear Sweetheart but only faintly. I don't really know why she's not going after me. I'm glad she isn't. I started pacing around the room.
I don't think I said anything too bad, did I?
I only suggested that she should be less harsh to the sprout moles and she suddenly started saying all these things - like who was I to decide how she talked to them and that she was the one who ruled over the sprout moles, not me and why I cared so much in the first place. I asked her why she was getting so worked up over nothing and that I didn't think say anything that bad. Sweetheart then said I was invalidating her and I said she shouldn't just throw the word around like that. This all somehow spiralled into a big argument. I don't get it. I really don't. This always happens.
Abruptly, I kicked something by accident. I looked down to see what it was and saw a busted lock on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and look at it properly. It felt cold in in my hand. I let it fall back onto the floor. I don't really know why I did that. Why is this here, anyway? I kick the broken lock across the floor for no real reason. I make my way towards it to kick it again when I discover something I'd never noticed before. Next to the last row of chairs, where the lock landed, was a trapdoor disguised amid the purple floorboards. Pieces of the broken lock are scattered around it. So that explains it, then. I crouch down, check no one's here, and slowly lift it up. A bright purple ladder descends into darkness. I know I probably shouldn't go down here but I can't stop myself. I close the trapdoor after myself and climb down.
***
After some time, I finally reach the bottom. I seem to be in a small room with purple bricked walls. There's a pile of presents in the corner. Why is this here? I have no fucking clue. I spot two arched doorways and go through one of them. Now there are even more presents, and there's also things like letters, flowers, plushies, vases, jars of pickles and a plastic flamingo. Torches were placed along the walls at intervals, giving off a somewhat dim light. I pick up one of the letters and it reads, in very bad handwriting:
"to sweatheart
i luv yoo very much i would lik fur us to marry and have 3 kids. i woud like that very much."
I drop it back on the floor and stamp on it. They barely even spelt anything right.. who wrote this!? I spot another letter on the floor that was opened and contained a drawing of Sweetheart which was actually quite good. Another letter had a poem about her. They all look like they're from different people. I strode past all the presents and letters and went up a small stair. Everything looks the same. I caught sight of a large hole in the wall under one of the torches. I go through it because there's nothing else to do. There aren't any presents anymore but there's something else I definitely wasn't expecting. There is a person here. legitimately a living breathing person. And they're standing there painting. Out of all things. The person hasn't noticed me yet, as they're too busy with their artwork. I cant make out what the paintings supposed to be but that's probably because it isn't finished yet. Pots of paint surround the person as well as a small circular table. There's a mattress on the floor to the side of them under a purple blanket with a white floral pattern. I feel have to say something; I can't stand here forever.
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Starry Night (Rococo x Space Boyfriend)
FanfictionCapt. Spaceboy is Captain of the Space Pirates, hence the name. Him and his crew travel the universe together, causing chaos along the way. Sounds amazing. You would think he'd be perfectly happy with his life, but your wrong. Because he has a probl...