Room 43// An Inanimate Insanity College AU

32- Declaration

Paintbrush carded through their own hair lazily, hoping to make it seem at least somewhat presentable. Phone buzzing with persistent notifications that they continued to ignore, drawing the conclusion they were from the recently turned active groupchat from high school, they felt that their sense of sound was the only one working despite it being well into the day. They only had two classes a week; could you blame them for sleeping in a little bit?

(Well, technically, they had three. But who actually went to Monday classes?)

Brushing their teeth while their phone rattled dangerously on the counter with notifications, Paintbrush briefly wondered if something drastic had happened. Had someone won a goddamn world peace prize? Was the end of the world as they knew it upon them?

...Well, that could wait until they finished brushing their teeth. They had to look presentable if they were heading into the apocalypse.

"My God, I'm just going to fucking mute this groupchat if I get one more notification-" They muttered to themselves, opening their phone and seeing their own annoyed glare in the dark screen. Clicking on the on button and finding notifications from not the groupchat, but Marshmallow, caused them to raise an eyebrow.

Marshmallow: FUCKIGN

Marshmallow: I'M GONNA SHOOT SOMETHNIG

Marshmallow: HOW MUCH DO WALMART GUNS GO FOR THEES DAYS

Paintbrush: Walkmart*

Marshmallow: SO NOW YOU DECIDE

Marshmallow: TO UFFKCING RESPOND????

Marshmallow: I'M FREAKING OUT HEREE SHUT UP

Paintbrush smiled at their friends misery, thumbs already typing out a response.

Paintbrush: did you finally get your shit together with apple and bow

Marshmallow: NO>????>>??

Marshmallow: THE FUCING. OPPOSITE???

Paintbrush: what happened ehat did you do

Marshmallow: IMG.20xx.20.2

Paintbrush clicked on the image, a bundle of flowers hastily wrapped on the bottom with duct tape. The makeshift bouquet of orchids left on what was presumably Marshmallow's kitchen countertop, a sticky note left beside it with a hand written message. It took a moment to decipher the chicken-scrawl, but once it clicked, a smile bloomed across their face.

Luv you, Marsh!

-Bow, Appel Apple :)

Paintbrush: how. how is it not going well again???

Paintbrush had moved from their bathroom mirror back into their bedroom, leaning against the headrest of their bed spotted with mostly decorative pillows.

Marshmallow: TF DO YOU MEAN???? THIS IS REALLYY BAD??!>!

Paintbrush: HOW??? IT SAYS 'LOVE YOU' RIGHT THERE?? WITH YOUR NAME???

Marshmallow: STILL HAVEN'T SEEN THEM SINCE THEY WENT ON THE STUPID ROAD TRIP WITHOUT ME. THEY ARE NOT HERE I HAVEN'T SPOKEN TO THEM

Paintbrush: that road trip was to gET YOU THOSE FLOWERS!!! THEYRE THE ONES FROM THE SCHOOL GARDEN I BET ON MY LIFE

Paintbrush: you stupid fucking IDIOT marsh they are LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU