Two Versus Danger.

+ Yīkào +

!! Trigger Warming !! mental health slightly at the end
*useless person's name

I wanted to say sorry because I wasn't normal; I wasn't like all the other kids who were scared by poorly animated jumpscare or scared of anger-issued kids—they hated my guts. I just felt so odd all of a sudden. I've never felt this feeling before, and this is probably the only time I'll ever say sorry in my whole life. On the other hand, I'll take care of Adam for now and repay my'sorrow' in letting him be so uncomfortably close to me; wanting to push Adam away wasn't a choice right now.

Although there wasn't much to talk about, it was awkward between us, and we were just too involved in Moomin. Either way... it brought my mood down more and more and more until I eventually couldn't stand being quiet nor bear the knowledge that I was going to sit here with this stupid boy who clung to me! I pushed him away and chucked the blanket at him before getting off the sofa.

"W- What's wrong? Did I do something?" asking a million questions like usual, "Y-Yīkào?"

"Being productive." My answer was short and 'quick-witted', and my mother also didn't understand my behaviour at all sometimes. I always had to stay productive; whether people liked it or not, I couldn't sit back and watch some TV show. I don't care what people say, and I never will.

I simply don't care if Adam starts rambling on about how selfish I am; I just couldn't care less. Yet when I'm staying still and doing nothing, that's when my thoughts start to catch up to me and tell me how pathetic, lazy, unproductive, and selfish I am.

"Do you want-"

"No, you're sick. Stay there until your parents arrive."

He listened to me, and I took my newly found prize outside to clean it. Turning the hose on and trying to get into the crevices of each hole that I uncovered with the water splashing everywhere. My jeans would be drenched after this, but more than anything to clean my new prize.

"Yīkào?" in my mother's voice, a part of me wanted to growl about being disturbed.

"Mhm..."

"Are you okay, my dear?" she came and sat down beside me, not caring about the knees of her trousers getting wet.

"Emphasise on okay."

"You know what I mean," she stroked my hair and accepted my stubbornness.

"I don't know exactly then. Maybe try being the odd one out of your whole age group."

She thought about her next words: I was open yet stubborn. Practically the complete opposite of what my mother was. Although she didn't say anything... I felt that she wanted to but couldn't bring herself to say anything or that she was lost for words. I was known in my school for being the predicted straight-A student, having creative words, outstanding behaviour, and constant rewards—basically, anything good came to my doorstep. You'd think my mother would be a nominee for the best parent of the whole school curriculum, but truth be told, she was worried for me.

That's only to put it short.

Just think of it. Your 6-ish-year-old child has more literature than a world-renowned author did when they were barely hitting puberty. Adam was smart, but regular smart. The sort of smart you'd expect your child to be at that age. I wish that I was normal, like any other child with any other normal working ability.

"I'm-"

"Don't," I snapped. I stopped my work for a couple of minutes and just thought. I knew she was going to say sorry, but sorry for what? Sorry for my existence. Sorry for that. Does she have a normal child?

"I just know how much you want to be normal, and I'm sorry I can't give that to you." I thought she was going to cry for a second; I can't handle people crying. I could tell she wanted to; since I'm not stupid, I did the only normal thing I could do.