[TW] Pyrophobia

Chapter One | "Hiring"

DUH

This was so thrilling!

After countless hours, days, months or tireless searching, Duh finally found hope. He finally found a place to work, a place to stay. And they took him in. Astonishingly, he was taken in as a teacher. First grade, so nothing overly complicated. He could handle that. He was fine with it, actually.

Two years. It had been two years since everything had happened; with Scope, RED... Doc. The confession of a lifetime. One that actually saved his life.

Probably, anyways.

He remembered the scene like it was yesterday. The rose held in Doc's hand, the other hand grasping Duh's own, despite the Spreading that kept itself on.

The Spreading. That was still a problem. Duh looked at his hands self-consciously, despite no one else being in the room. How could he teach in these conditions? Most of the city had heard of the Spreading by now. He'd probably just have to wear gloves to not frighten the students...

...Lulu had it differently, though. Different in a way that made it difficult for her. Poor thing. Kids might've made fun of her or been overly fascinated. He remembered the same went for him and his hat.

He glanced at his pirate hat that had been sitting on his desk. It filtered gently in the room's light. Not enough to cast a light of any sort—not like it had that kind of material—but enough to cast it as a dark amber-brown color which almost appeared, but was just noticeably enough to variate from, black.

With a sigh, Duh grabbed his old pirate hat off of his desk and put it on. The thing had begun to wither away, but he didn't care. It was a dedication of sorts. He remembered when his mother first gave it to him.

Ever since she died, he kept the hat for himself. His dad had always been so judgmental about it, but eventually he stopped caring. Peers still worried about it. They just didn't understand, that was all.

That was fine.

Duh began pacing again. A beautiful place he was in, at least... to be fair, it was (mostly) all Doc's.

Duh didn't know where he'd be without him.

Turning on his phone, recently bought with Doc's help, he scrolled through his pre-installed apps until he found the messages app. He knew Doc was probably driving to work... maybe he was open?

He clicked Doc's contact and shortly after, the phone rang. Only for a split second, though. Doc was normally fast at answering his phone, no matter where he was.

"Hey, love." Doc spoke through the phone, sounding gentle. "What's up?"

"I—" He stopped for a second. "I want to talk to you. I'm just worried."

A sigh, tolerant but teasing, answered him. "About?"

"Well... I got a job."

"That's great!" Doc's genuine comment was clear, but it twisted quickly into confusion. "So, what's so bad?"

"Well, it's just... my first job. I'm working with kids— l-like you! Sort of. You're..." His voice lingered into a whisper that even he didn't recognize.

"Duh. What exactly did you take on?" Doc sounded concerned.

"...Teaching."

"Wow!" Doc broke into a laugh. "So nervous about teaching?"

"Y-Yeah. I guess."

"I hate to sound like the bad guy here," Doc began, his voice lowering into a reassuring murmur, "but you can't be defended forever. You've got to be brave, too. Especially if you're working around a bunch of kids."

"I'm just nervous. I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Duh admitted.

"I was the same way my first day at OneLife." Doc told him. "It's okay to be nervous and confused. I understand your worries. You're going to mess up sometimes. No doubt about it."

"That's reassuring." Duh scoffed sarcastically.

"I'm not trying to reassure you." Doc continued. "What I'm saying is that, if you expect yourself to be perfect, you're going to be trying to look up to other people all the time. And the more you do that, the more dependent you'll become."

"What's so bad about being dependent?" Duh questioned.

"Nothing, in some cases." Doc sighed. "But imagine if something bad happened and you had to choose between your own life by listening to a bunch of people who probably lied to you, or turning your back and having at least a chance on escaping. What would you choose then?"

Duh winced. He'd been through that before. "...Escaping."

"See? You get it, I know you do. We both do, after everything that happened."

"I know."

"I hope you know I'm trying to make this sound as nice as possible. You know that's one of my weaknesses." Doc quickly added.

"Of course, I know that." Duh sighed and smiled gently, hoping the idea would be picked up through the phone's microphone. "You know that I'm just a bit unsure sometimes, that's all."

"That's okay. You don't have to be confident on everything. And if you do want to be confident, it's okay to be confidently incorrect sometimes. As long as you're not hurting anyone else, then you are allowed to be wrong. It's part of being human."

Duh's smile became much more genuine. Doc had a point... what was there to be so insecure about, anyways? A couple of first graders wouldn't care about mistakes. They were all six; they made mistakes, too.

"Well, I'm here now, Duh." Doc murmured gently. "You can do this, okay? I know you can. But I can't be the only one that believes in you. You should believe in yourself, too."

"You're right. Thanks, Doc." Duh answered.

"Of course." Doc replied. "Love you. I'll see you when I get home."

"I love you, too."

With an audible beep, the call ended, leaving Duh alone once again. He wasn't used to being alone. He remembered the chaos he and Doc brewed—or, to better summarize, ended—a while before. Meeting RED and Scope face-to-face, the Spreading, meeting Lulu...

Oh, Lulu. He nearly forgot to wake her. It's alright. School hasn't started quite yet.

Lulu was six now. She was four when Duh met her. She had grown a bit since then. Not much, of course, but he didn't expect that from her. And he and Doc both took her in.

How was Lulu to them? Well, Lulu was closer to Duh than she was to Doc, but she did trust both of them. As long as there was trust... that's all she needed to do. To trust them.

After all... everything was finally over, wasn't it?