ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it's been a fat minute since i have updated this book. i feel a little guilty, to be honest, mainly because i think this fanfic has been boring...which is why i am doing my best to make it exciting and not follow the original story so much. 😅
you all have my sincerest apologies.
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for the next hour or so, y/n slaved away at doing the chores around the house, whether that be doing the dishes (washing & drying), washing a few of the dirtied windows, cleaning the kitchen since no one knew how to put things away properly, vacuuming, sweeping, and all the laundry, including her parents'. by the end of it, the h/c-haired girl felt like her legs were mush and all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and stay there for the remainder of the day.
but she knew she couldn't...
no, her mother just had to leave it to y/n to meet the neighbors, it's not like she minded, but her mom made it seem like a requirement and that's how her daughter will have to few it; just an item that she'll need to check off from her imaginary list of things to do! she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and sighed deeply.
begrudgingly, she forced herself to the door, her legs heavy with fatigue. y/n swung it open aggressively, letting it slam behind her, the sound reverberating through the house. she winced slightly, expecting a shout from her mother, but none came. maybe she hadn't heard. or maybe, for once, she was letting it slide. nevertheless, y/n began heading over toward miss spink and miss forcible's flat.
in her book, the two elderly women were always a welcome distraction. they might even have some tea and biscuits ready. just as she was about to round the counter to descend the stairs, she was stopped by a familiar voice calling her name. "y/n! waaaaait!" she quickly looked up to see mr. bobinsky approached her, his long limbs moving with an awkward grace that always made her think of a marionette on invisible strings.
"good morning," y/n nodded, trying to keep her tone polite despite her impatience. she really didn't have time for one of mr. b's lengthy, often bizarre, conversations.
"ah, good morning, y/n!" mr. b boomed, his accent thick and rolling with a shopping bag in hand. the smell of it made the h/c-haired girl gag—he must've bought some new cheeses. he smiled broadly, a sight both comforting and slightly unnerving. "you know, my jumping mice, they are performing amazing today!" he said.
"that's great, mr. b," y/n replied, trying to edge past him. "but i really have to be somewhere..." she whispered.
"yes, yes, alvays busy, alvays busy," Mr. Bobinsky waved a hand dismissively, but his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "but you must listen. the mice...asked me to give you message."
y/n forced a smile, though her patience was wearing thin. "mr. b, you know my mom thinks your mice are just a—" before she could finish her sentence, she was promptly interrupted.
