MBTI high school

Chapter 73

Chapter 73: Homebody Mode Interrupted

There was a fairly persistent misconception about ENTP. Given that outside, he behaved like an invader of professional personal space, ISTP had actually considered filing a restraining order on more than one occasion, everyone assumed he hated being alone.

Wrong.

The moment ENTP crossed the threshold of his apartment, he transformed. He became a homebody creature, fused with his mattress, devoted entirely to the cult of inactivity. Today, with ESTP and the rest of the group away on vacation, ENTP had no one left to torment. So he'd fallen back on his backup plan: becoming a larva.

He was sprawled in front of the TV, a bowl of chips balanced precariously on his stomach. He wore a t-shirt that used to be black, now faded to gray by the sheer force of time, and blue shorts whose elastic had given up the ghost back in 2023.

The doorbell rang.

ENTP swore under his breath, brushed a few crumbs off his chest, and got up, dragging his feet. Very few people knew his address. Even ESTP had no idea which building he actually lived in. The odds of this being a friend were slim. The FBI, maybe?

He opened the door, squinting against the light from the hallway.

It was...

- ENTJ?

ENTP stood there, stunned. This was the first time ENTJ had ever set foot in his place. Had he eaten a hallucinogenic chip or something?

- Move.

No, he wasn't dreaming. That razor-sharp tone was unmistakable. ENTP slowly stepped aside as ENTJ walked in. He was wearing a three-piece suit. Purple. In 90-degree heat. On a Tuesday afternoon. During vacation.

- Would it kill you to wear a plain t-shirt and jeans? ENTP said, arms hanging limp.

- Would it kill you to wear something without holes in it? ENTJ shot back instantly.

He pointed an accusing finger at ENTP's faded t-shirt, where a gaping hole cheerfully revealed his navel. ENTP crossed his arms over his chest, feigning offense.

- My skin needs to breathe. It's an ecological concept.

ENTJ rolled his eyes with enough force to sprain something, then scanned the living room. Against all odds, the place was strangely clean and tidy.

- Interesting, the visitor murmured.

He carefully set down the luxurious black leather briefcase he'd been carrying onto the coffee table.

- Is there cash in there? ENTP asked, eyes suddenly gleaming with greed.

- Don't touch it. I'm heading to the bathroom.

ENTP nodded, staring at the briefcase as if he had X-ray vision. Then his brain rebooted, abruptly. The bathroom. To get there, he'd have to cross the hallway. And to cross the hallway, he'd have to walk past his bedroom. His bedroom, which was-

- Wait, don't..!

Too late.

ENTJ, efficient and quick as always, had already opened the bedroom door.

The imbalance of mass did its work. A mountain, quite literally an avalanche of dirty laundry that had been waiting to be washed since the Jurassic era, collapsed onto ENTJ's immaculate three-piece suit.

The silence that followed was more terrifying than a nuclear explosion.

ENTJ froze. Motionless. He turned his head, very, very slowly, toward ENTP.

He had an old Iron Man boxer sitting perfectly on top of his head. This grotesque detail did absolutely nothing to diminish the murderous aura that had just swallowed the room.

Is it just me, or are his eyes glowing red right now? ENTP wondered, dead serious, his survival instinct now begging him to draft his will.

ENTJ took one step forward. Then another. Slowly. Like an apex predator. ENTP backed away cautiously, hands raised in a universal gesture of peace.

- I can explain-

He didn't get to finish his sentence. A perfectly manicured hand closed around his collar.

★★★

Twenty minutes later.

ENTJ and ENTP stood in front of the drying rack. ENTP was crouched down, sorting socks. He now sported two magnificent, still-smoking bumps on top of his head, and kept absentmindedly rubbing the red handprint decorating his neck. He deeply regretted opening that cursed door.

He should have played dead. Or jumped out the window. The third floor wasn't that high, after all.

ENTJ shook out a shirt with military precision and hung it up.

- I'm still relieved to see you're doing fine, ENTJ suddenly announced, eyes fixed on the clothespins. I was worried you might get bored, or let yourself go, with ESTP out of town.

ENTP froze mid-motion. He blinked, once, twice. His eyes lit up with an insufferable, childlike joy.

- Awwwww! ENTP exclaimed, hands clasped over his heart.

ENTJ's jaw tightened.

- I feel like I made this trip for nothing, he sighed, already regretting his words.

ENTP stared at him, mouth agape, stars in his eyes.

- Is it just me, or did you just admit to worrying about my emotional well-bei-

- Shut up.

- You love me!

- I said shut up, or I smother you with the Iron Man boxers.

ENTP grinned from ear to ear, completely unbothered by the threat, now that he'd cracked his tormentor's armor.

- By the way, ENTP asked, standing back up, what's actually in that briefcase if it's not cash? A hit contract?

ENTJ straightened his cufflinks and strode into the living room with the presence of a CEO about to unveil a billion-dollar merger. He snapped the briefcase open.

Inside: no cash. No silenced pistol.

A massive ring binder, complete with color-coded tabs, along with a laminated A3-format schedule.

- What in the... ENTP stammered, feeling his soul leave his body.

- I calculated that without ESTP's chaotic stimulation, you'd lose 40% of your cognitive function over the course of this vacation, ENTJ declared solemnly. So I drafted the Summer Rehabilitation and Free Time Optimization Project. We have thirty-five activities planned this week.

ENTJ pulled a metal whistle from his pocket and hung it around his neck.

- First activity: high-pressure power-washing of your bathroom. In five minutes.

ENTP glanced at the front door. He calculated the distance. If he ran right now-

- Don't even think about it, ENTJ said, without even looking up from the schedule.

This was no longer vacation.

This was a reform camp.