⋆𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲⋆ 【𝙆𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝘾𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙞𝙣】

2

AN: Apologies for the pause

Sylvia sat in her garage, banging on her drums with sweaty hair flying about as her head moved to the beat and her alien-like long arms moved up and down as the sticks hit the skins. She was lost in the noise and herself as the new rhythm flowed through her. These new songs she has written have been bubbling and spilling out into reality from within her, allowing the pixie girl to be in her garage from morning to night, still, in the pajamas, she has woken up in.

The first interruption of the day was her cat, Jim, stepping on the old composition notebook she has owned since high school. It contained all of the lyrics she's ever written and all of her thoughts. It acts as her guardian,  her secret keeper. Everything you would need to know about her is in the pages between those black and white covers. Kurt had actually purchased it for her upon seeing how her disorganized pages matched her disorganized thoughts. She almost refused because hates surprise gifts, never feeling like she's being done owing favors that way. 

"Hey, man," she greeted her roommate, who chirped in response to this, flicking his tail to show his irritation at the dinner that is fifteen minutes later than his usual time. Sylvia only realized this after checking the ugly clock she purchased at an estate sale. The promise of it being haunted drew her in. Kurt had been there that day, following her around like there was an invisible tether tying them together. It was like he could not be more than six feet away, magnetic force keeping them together. The overcast sky still managed to show their intertwined shadows, a subliminal message that neither one of them wanted to receive.

The ugly brown cuckoo clock had been sitting on the table by the rest of the housing decorations like picture frames and doilies. It caught her eye immediately and she made the beeline for the cursed cuckoo clock.

"Kurt," She said, grinning slyly at him, looking up to do so, only to be met with him shaking his head of dyed brown hair, staring judgmentally at the clock, letting his lip curl upwards in distaste.

"No," He said, making his answer final at that, raising his brows at her, disapproving of the clearly haunted cuckoo clock.

"Kuuuuurt," Sylvia sang, leaning in closer against him and smiling, batting her lashes. She knows the eyes and expression always weakens him. It has worked since they were teenagers when she first used it to get him to sign up for a creative writing club with her, the day that she begged him to read his piece aloud, the day she begged him to not tell her dad about what her boyfriend had done. Kurt was weaker than the eyes.

"Why?" He begged her, defeated demeanor present in how his shoulders sagged and his brows furrowed. Kurt didn't want to fuck with a haunted cuckoo clock despite the horror movies he and Sylvia watch together.

"Because, I love it and there is really only one way to tell, you know," She sang, raising her brows enticingly and even lifting the clock for the added affect. Sylvia knows she won.

"Fine," Kurt relented, sighing at this.

Jim's angered meow had yanked her mind out of the memory she was reliving with a shake of her head, the act somehow helping to actually clear her mind.

"Sorry!" She repeated a few times, holding her hands up in a surrendering and hopefully placating manner towards the fluffy rag doll cat. Sylvia maneuvers her way to the kitchen, stepping around mismatched furniture and over cat toys with practiced ease. She grabs the step stool she keeps to the corner of her ancient refrigerator and places it robotically in front of the cabinet, blindly reaching for the tuna dinner and setting it out of the corner. The sound of the landline gave her a fright, the gasp alerted Jim, causing him to put his ears back from where he laid, observing her from the counter tops, tail swishing.