CREEPY-CRAWLIES ; yugbam

the box

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oliver riot; we popped the moon

-

bambam couldn't sleep.

between his nap in the car and his mind running at a million miles per hour, there was the ruckus just downstairs. he flinched every time there was a bang as something fell over, or the boys erupted into laughter. he sat up in bed, giving up on sleep.

he moved to his closet, pulling the box of his mother's stuff out. he chanted the words to the calming charm before he opened it up, sitting down on the ground and sticking his hand in, pulling things out at random. a statue of his mother's patron goddess, hecate, a necklace she had received from bambam's father, a photo album, the sweater she always wore that still smelled like her, cds of her favorite music, books, bambam's fathers wand, charms, incense, the ukulele she used to play elvis on. bambam knew tears were forming in his eyes, but he tried to ignore them. suddenly, he remembered the envelope his aunt had given him and grabbed it off the desk, sitting next to his mother's things.

he ripped it open, finding five hundred dollars in cash and a folded piece of paper. he opened it to find a phone number and "my home number, for emergencies only" written on the white. he sighed and put the money and paper back in the envelope, setting it on the ground next to him. he pulled the photo album into his lap and started to flip through it.

tears fell silently down his cheeks as he flipped through the album. he made sure to wipe them before they could hit the precious pictures. he sniffled, focusing on a picture of himself cradled in his mother's arms at the hospital.

he jumped when a knock sounded on the door. he turned around and saw yugyeom hovering there, the door handle grasped in his hand. his eyes widened in faint surprise when he saw bambam's tears and the boy quickly wiped them away, embarrassed. "oh sorry, i can come back later."

"no, it's okay", bambam mumbled and yugyeom hovered for a second more before shutting the door behind him and sitting on the ground across from bambam.

"what is all this?", he asked, picking up the statue of hecate. bambam controlled the urge to reach out and grab it from the zombie.

"my mom's stuff", bambam replied quietly. yugyeom furrowed his dark brows.

"where is she?"

"gone", bambam whispered, staring at the picture of baby him and his mother. yugyeom's pale cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

"oh. sorry."

"s'okay", bambam said, wiping his still wet cheeks with the sleeve of the cashmere sweater he was wearing, a gift from his mother.

"is that why you're here?", yugyeom asked in that same monotone voice. it's okay, bambam assured himself. he's a zombie, he can't feel like i do.

"yeah."

"i'm sorry."

"don't worry about it", bambam muttered.

yugyeom glanced around the room. "so you're a witch?"

"yep", bambam answered, beginning to put his mom's stuff away.

"the last person to use this room was a witch."

"cool."

yugyeom fell silent. bambam guessed he could feel the tension in his replies.

"you're probably tired", yugyeom said, standing up. "i'll tell the others to quiet down so you can sleep."

bambam thanked him and he left. he finished packing away his mother's things, taking special care of the fragile things, and then slipped into bed. he settled under the covers, staring out the window across the room, watching the crescent moon hanging in the dark sky.

he fell asleep with a whispered prayer to cybele.

-

"good morning."

ms. yang was the only one awake, busying herself in the kitchen. bambam wondered if she ever slept.

"any requests for breakfast?", she asked. bambam thought for a second.

"maybe pancakes?", he replied, shrugging. ms. yang smiled.

"of course."

bambam stood up from the table, walking to over to ms. yang to help her prepare the food. she seemed surprised, like none of the other boys did the same. it was something of a habit for bambam; every saturday morning was spent with his mother in the kitchen, preparing a large breakfast so they'd have some for leftovers the rest of the week. the beatles would play on his mom's stereo and when they finally finished and sat down to eat, they would turn the morning news on the tv. they were special moments that bambam had taken completely for granted. he glanced at the old radio sitting on the table and a wave of sadness washed over him.

"how are you adjusting to the house?", ms. yang asked, glancing over at him. bambam shrugged again.

"good."

"and what do you think about the other boys?"

bambam was silent. "they're...all really close."

ms. yang chuckled. "they are, aren't they?". she gazed at bambam's sad and weary expression. "don't worry son. they'll warm up to you...yugyeom already has."

bambam wondered what the lilt in ms. yang's last words meant. "really? i mean, i know he's a zombie and everything, but..."

ms. yang gave him a knowing look. "i understand. he's hard to adjust to, but you'll learn to understand him."

"yeah", bambam replied, managing a small smile.

ms. yang squeezed his arm as she moved past him to grab a carton of eggs. "it's hard for everyone at first. i know you must feel left out. if you wanted, you could change your sleeping schedule to match theirs. that's what hyunjin did, and it helped him get to know them a lot better."

bambam thought about that. he was seventeen, meaning he would be staying at raven house for at least two years. he should get to know the other boys.

"i'll try that, i suppose."

ms. yang turned on the radio and tuned it to the correct station. they finished the rest of the meal in silence, bambam trying to keep the tears out of his eyes as memories of his mom washed over him.

-

(1011 words)