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I Won't Be There For You

Beta's room was huge compared to the apartment he had back home. The walls were carved and crafted in stained marble, an arc separating the room area from the lounge area, stocked with a green sofa, a cushioned chair on either side, and a T.V. against the wall. Behind the beds and closets was a door leading off into a bathroom. There were two beds in the room. Beta shut the door and walked into the unfamiliar environment. He looked at the bed on the left and noticed there was stuff—clothes, toiletries, a shoe—scattered everywhere, juxtaposed with the other bed, which was freshly made.

When the reality became clear, Beta grunted. Even in death, he couldn't escape the evil wrath of having a roommate.

With a tired gaze, he took a detour into the bathroom. He smelled—oddly enough—like cheese and tears.

He shut the door and locked it, checking the lock twice before he stripped. It was habit he picked up as a kid, but could never really drop in adulthood. The clothes he wore were the ones he died in, he could remember, which no one bothered to clean. Beta stepped into the high-tech shower. It was much cleaner than he would have expected, although the drain seemed a bit rusty and the shower head was, well, not there. He searched for a nozzle or a button or anything, but nothing stood out to him. Before anything could be said or done, the shower gained a mind of its own. Above him, the wall split open like a double door and out of the black abyss came an also rusty showerhead. As relieved as he was to see the shower head, the feeling was not mutual, for it decided to spray its icy wrath straight into Beta's eyes.

He yelped and vocalized, "F-Freezing!" before the water slowly warmed until it's temperature matched Beta's body heat, and then exceeded it. He relaxed into it, letting the water flush over him.

Twenty minutes later, he got out of the shower. After he dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his chest, he was on the search for clothes. Checking the closet, then the floor, then the lounge space, he found nothing. As he went to go back to the bathroom so he wouldn't soak the carpet, he spotted something next to the closet that he missed. There was a tube sticking out of the wall right beside it. He looked at it. There were two strips of green light that glowed along the sides of the black tube. It looked like it would boost his energy somehow. On top of the gadget was a sign that said:

Put your finger in the hole (if ya know what I mean 😉)

Despite the fact that his mind was faintly buzzing with uncertainty, he complied. "If you say so magic tube," Beta muttered, inserting his finger.

It started to vibrate and he flinched as something poked him. The humming went down until it completely stopped and he took his finger away, examining it. He squeezed and a droplet of blood came out of the tip. Sucking on it, the legal youth started toward the bed.

Beta paused when he heard the closet rumble. Spinning back around, the urge to check again kicking in. He opened the closet door dramatically.

It was full of clothes that just so happened to fit his taste and body type.

His first instinct, of course, was to rummage through, throwing on underwear, a blue T-shirt, and sweatpants.

Beta lied down on his bed and stared at the chipping ceiling.

The first of my kind. That's something, he thought.

But that thought triggered so much more.

"Beta come back!"

The lights began to flicker in the room, the bed shaking slightly. Beta's face contorted with anger and he shut his eyes, putting his hands over his face as if to block out the feelings. "Why're you doing this to me?" he muttered, the ground now starting to shake.