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Part 14

The rest of the period is filled with tension, Supernatural looking decently smug while you try to focus on the video playing. You have no idea how Doc could stand to hang out with him, or how Heta is so blissfully unaware of the shit he's said. Then again, he's been here longer than you, and thus has known Supernatural longer than you. You remember how aware Hetalia is, he's messaged you incredibly philosophical things at three in the morning, and you glance towards him. You're thankful for him, glad he knows when to fight. What you aren't thankful for however, is his hand on your knee, which is a reminder for you not to kick Supernatural in the shin.

Eventually the class ends with minor amounts of homework, and you and Heta walk to your next class. You walk in silence down the hallway, and at some point you look at him and words are falling out before you can stop them. "That motherfucker, I want to kick him so fucking hard. Anywhere, preferably his face. He's annoying, infuriating, frustrating- he insulted you! It wasn't just me." You rant as you walk, Heta gently putting his hand on your shoulder at some point to move you through the halls. "I want to punch him so hard his appendix flies out. Maybe then he'll know what vestigiality is." You continue.

"I know." Heta answers. "And you know what? I think he's scared of you." He chimes in, and you pause, laughing. Heta puffs out his cheeks in a weak attempt to look upset, eventually laughing himself. "I'm serious though! His show deals with demons and vampires and other creatures, and from what I've heard he's pretty scared of them. This might just be a defense or something." You hum in acknowledgment, continuing along.

"That's some bullshit defense right there." You answer, snorting slightly. Things go uphill from there. All in all, your last class isn't that memorable, and the time passes quickly. By then you're released with a final scream of the bell, and everyone rushes out of the building. You walk home, tired from your day. Upon reaching your house, you fumble around with the keys before opening the front door. Immediately you chuck your backpack across the room, making a 'Pschooooooo' noise with your mouth as it sores across the room.

You flop over onto the couch, grabbing the remote for the television and turning it on. Like most people, you didn't have cable television. Instead, you had Netflix. You look over the familiar list of recommended shows, some of which being Scooby Doo, Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and a few others. You smile upon looking over your list of 'Recently Watched' shows, seeing the multiple seasons of Hetalia. Smiling to yourself, you go to the search bar. Selecting the letters, you type in the show you want to watch. Grabbing a blanket, you wrap it around yourself, almost like a cacoon. Time to binge watch Doctor Who.

After a while you grow tired, but you have to admit that Doc's show seemed pretty cool. Emerging from your cacoon, you walk up the stairs to your room. As usual, it's a mess, and you pick up one of the many stray shirts as well as a pair of ecto-slime boxers. You then make your way over to the bathroom. Quickly, you start the water. You only step in once steam has filled the air, removing your clothes beforehand. The water pressure is high in order to get your body paint off of you, revealing your pale flesh. It takes a while to scrub off, but once you're done you turn off the water, changing into the shirt and pajamas.

You leave the bathroom, feeling a bit hungry. Running towards the area where the edge of the hallway becomes the wall of the living room, you jump off the edge, landing with a rickety cry from your couch and bouncing onto the carpet. Standing up and brushing yourself off, you looked around your pantry. In the end of your scavenger hunt you were able to find some ice cream as well as some apple juice. You don't bother to scoop the ice cream, instead simply taking the entire tub.

You eat your ice cream, occasionally taking a swig of apple juice. You scroll trough the tumblr website, laughing at some posts, reblogging a few more fanart posts, and answering a couple anons. By the time you got tired, it was pretty dark out. Your dad, he's sort of omnipresent cryptid. He's always there, but not really. You know he's just up in his room working, and he knows you can handle yourself. It's an odd relationship, and you suppose that's why he throws things into the comic that he knows you'll hold on to.

Speaking of which, you walk back up the stairs. Your vision is going slightly dark, but you manage to make your way to your room without dying. You set your phone to charge before flopping onto your bed and kicking a few miscellaneous items off as well. Finally, after burying yourself under the covers, you let out a sigh, darkness overtaking your vision and rest overtaking your body. And for a moment, all was peaceful.

That is of course, before you opened your inner eyes. Oh, dear reader, did you actually think things would be quiet for once? That things would be peaceful? Pfft, no! This makes it more interesting. How dare you think that things would be peaceful? Anyways, you open your inner eyes. Your surroundings are dark, but you know you didn't accidentally wake up. You can tell because you're floating in a standing position, and a pallet and brush are floating by your side. This dear reader, is why you absolutely adore sleeping.

You start to paint in vibrant flashes of raspberry and cherry, with small hints of  boysenberry. You smile as you paint, relaxing. You never painted with a purpose here; you knew it would simply disappear once you woke up. However, things were nice, quiet, but certainly not peaceful, as you painted your night away, in the dark realm of your mind.