Romantic Killer But I Made It Gay

Part 7

"I'm home!" I call into the empty house, hearing my voice echo back to me. I sigh, dropping my bag in a corner and collapsing onto the couch. For some reason, today, I just kept running into that stupid love interest of a boy. During lunch, during PE, after school, on the way home—it was almost impossible to avoid him without him noticing. Whelp, maybe if he notices I'm avoiding him he'll leave me alone...So that's good...I guess.

I sigh again.

And then it hits me.

What am I supposed to do!?

What do people without video games do? Cook? I suck at cooking! Draw? No, I immediately rule that out. Play...board games? I look toward the game cabinet in hopes of a savior but I'm met with the realization that all the games are for two or more people.

There's nothing to do.

"Hey, egg."

Kiki pops out of the couch cushions, frowning. "I told you, I'm not an—"

"Play a game with me, huh?"

It stares at me. "What?"

"Since you took all my sources of entertainment, I have nothing to do." I grab a pack of cards, then pause. "Do you even know how to play any card games?"

Kiki sighs. "Entertaining you isn't part of my job here. If you want excitement, go visit that Kazuki boy and confess how hot you think he is." I smack it, beet red, and it flies out of my reach, sighing, "Or at least clean. This place is a mess and it's bothering my perfectionism."

"Never knew you were a perfectionist," I mutter, but I get up anyway and grab a broom, heading to the kitchen. The egg is right—the house is a disaster. It's only been a day of me living here alone, but there's somehow more empty glasses than I've used in my lifetime scattered around, clothes I don't wear hung over chairs and couches, and a forest floor worth of dust covering the ground.

I sigh, starting to sweep the dust into a pile. The work is relaxing, almost therapeutic, and after a while I start forgetting my problems. After almost an hour the kitchen is sparkling and my arms are sore, but I'm happy. I feel ready to face my problems head on and not back down until—

A dark spot under the fridge catches my attention and I walk over, bending down to—a cockroach. A huge one, with hairy legs and giant wings, immediately rushing out towards me.

My soul leaves my body, done with the situation and leaves me on my own to deal with it. And the way I do is to carefully back up toward the door on trembling legs. The roach doesn't return to its spot under the fridge, though, and rushes me, leaping off the ground and waving its huge wings in the air.

It's coming straight for me.

Done with everything, I turn and sprint full force to the door, yanking it open and slamming it behind me. But I can't stop here, I need to get as far away from that monster as possible. I know it's not manly. I know I'm a wimp. But I have to escape it, no matter what.

The last thing I remember is running as fast as I could for as long as I could until I finally collapsed on a playground near my house. And now I sit here, staring into the dark mouth of a smiling cat building, panting like a dog. I'm so pathetic. This day can't get worse, unless a giant cockroach comes to take over the earth.

The clouds rumble threateningly and I look up just as a torrent of rain smacks me in the face. I grunt as I inhale water and I look around for shelter, coughing. The closest thing to that in this child sized playground is the cat I was staring at earlier, so I run over and crawl inside. It provides some shelter, although my shoes and calves are exposed at the back. But they're already soaked so it's fine.

I sigh. There. The day got worse. Thanks, God.

Wait.

"Kiki?" I mutter. "Did you do this? Are you trying to give me a fever? You know I can't go out if that happens, right?"

The egg laughs, appearing from my pocket. "But of course! This is perfect for..."

"Perfect for what?" It doesn't reply. "Perfect for what!?" I repeat. "Finish your goddamn sentence!" But it vanishes into my pocket before I can question it further. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to keep warm, but they're soaking too so it doesn't do much. At this rate I really am going to catch a cold. I look across the playground. It's not letting up at all, and it only shows signs of getting worse.

I sneeze in the cold and sleepy voice asks, "Are...you okay?"

I flinch, looking out of the mouth to see two legs in white pants standing before me.

Crap.

Looking up, my dilemma gets a hundred times worse. Tsukasa Kazuki stands in front of the cat, an umbrella over his head, staring at me.