Wandering Rose

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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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