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the next morning, y/n didn't want to climb out of bed which is ironic because she spent the vast majority of last night complaining to herself how she couldn't fall asleep. but she did end up doing that. eventually. though, her small victory was short lasted at the sound of who she assumed to be her mom clinging in the kitchen. the obnoxious clinging of glass plates being stacked, drawers being opened and aggressively slammed shut, and the continuous sound of running water, were all dead giveaways that it was her.
"jesus..." y/n cursed under her breath, wincing when the bright sun outside peeked through her blinds and blinded her. she pulled the blanket over her face and, blindly, reached her hand out and grabbed her watch. it took a few tries, but she finally got it.
when she had the small thing in her hand, y/n's arm slunk back under the covers where she checked the time. seven in the morning. "that's...perfect. juuuust great." she said, sarcastically. whenever she had the chance to sleep, she liked to sleep in as much as possible, but her parents were always loud in the mornings, so asking such a thing was too much to ask for.
with a frustrated laugh, y/n quickly kicked the covers off her, got out of bed, and slammed her watch on her bedside table. grumbling, resentment bubbled within her as she stomped across the hall to the bathroom. she's not going to be able to go back to bed, so she might as well get ready for the day. as she brushed her teeth, y/n left the bathroom door ajar.
just as she was midway through the meticulous process of flossing, her mom's voice thundered from the first floor, a jarring interruption to the fragile peace of her morning, "y/n, get up!" the harshness of the older woman's voice pushed the h/c-haired girl over the edge.
frustration surged through y/n, her response a vehement shout back, "I'm up, just brushing my teeth!" slamming the bathroom door shut with a resounding echo, she couldn't help but feel a small satisfaction at the small jab. serves them right for being so loud in the mornings—not only did they wake her up, but did they forget about mr. b and missus spink & forcible?
after brushing her teeth, y/n descended the stairs in her worn-out pajamas, a muted sense of defeat settling upon her as she glimpsed the torrential rain through the window. of course, it's pouring out. out of the time she's lived here, it should come as no surprise. ashland is a gloomy and damp place. all it does here is rain.
a small defeated sigh escaped her lips as y/n continued to navigate through the pink palace, where the passage of time had left its marks on faded walls and worn-out furnishings before arriving at the kitchen which is, like most things in the house, bore the signs of years gone by, barely maintained.
her parents sat at the table, her dad sipping a hot cup of coffee while her mom sat directly across from him, banging away at her laptop. her dad placed his mug on the table and after noticing his daughter looming at the entrance in his peripheral, turned toward her. "well, look who decided to get out of her room!" he exclaimed.
suppressing an eye roll, y/n forced a strained smile, those comments of her dad's never failed to grate on her nerves. she knew he was joking, but for fuck's sake was it annoying for that to be one of the first things she hears in the morning. "good morning." she then quietly took a seat at the table. pursing her lips together, y/n tried to shift her focus elsewhere. more specifically, her mother. "you working on your paper, mom?" she softly inquired.
her mom worked for a small writing company in town. she had to leave her old job behind and find one here for convenience purposes. she hasn't been in the best spirits ever since she had to quit her previous job. "yep." the older woman replied, her eyes not moving from the screen even for a second.
"oh—some kid left this on the front porch." her dad suddenly stated. that 'some kid' had to be wybie. not to be rude, but he and y/n are the only young people in the area. it's just a fact. the h/c-haired girl then walks over and is handed a newspaper-wrapped package. an attached note says that it's addressed to her. that's weird. out of all the people that lived in the general vicinity, wybie is the last person who y/n would think would give her something. or mail for that matter. it's a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one at that.
y/n's attention is then diverted to what looks like to be writing in the interior of the note. curious, she carefully rips off the small part of the paper and reads it. 'hey, y/n, i think i found something of yours. i found it in gramma's truck. no need to thank me! wybie,' it said.
she rips open the package, causing the newspaper to fall at her feet, and finds the button-eyed doll staring back at her. it's a little her and a perfect replica at that. it even was donning a few items from her closet. was he stalking her or something? nah, this had to be a coincidence. maybe her parents made this for her a few birthdays ago and forgot to gift it to her? y/n wouldn't put it past them...alas, she crumples the note, both annoyed and charmed.
"what is it?" her mom tried to show some interest in what wybie sent y/n, but, then again, she didn't bother to peek over her computer to see for herself. she's just trying to make conversation. better to fill in the silence, y/n supposed.
"it's...some sort of doll, i think?" y/n's dad answered. "jesus christ," he then unexpectedly grabbed the doll right out of his daughter's hands without her permission. he turned it to face him and grimaced. "it's so creepy looking," the thing made his stomach churn in a way he hated. realizing that this could come off as an insult, the older man slowly made eye contact with y/n and laughed awkwardly. "...no offense," he added.
"none taken." y/n muttered before her father tossed the doll back to her, thankfully, she caught it with ease. it was both intricate and simple at the same time. so, even though it is creepy like her dad said, a lot of effort was put into it. something that y/n will not take for granted. somewhat reluctantly, the young girl cupped the back of the doll's head with one hand and pulled it onto her chest, in a hug.
"what's that kid's name, anyway?" her dad grabbed his mug, eyebrows furrowed, and looked at his wife for an answer. he was never good with names.
"no clue." the woman behind the computer answered. she couldn't care less. the only thing she did care about was the boy's grandmother, but, even then, it was because she was the landlord and it was better to be on good terms with her.
"his name is wybie." y/n spoke up. "and i've outgrown dolls." just because she was too old for them, didn't mean that she was going to toss it in the trash. not after how much effort the person who made this put into it. after making this abundantly clear, y/n, whilst hugging the doll close to her chest, leaves the kitchen and makes a beeline back upstairs to her bedroom.
