Genre: Romance (and not the chemicals kind, if you get what I'm saying... ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
(HANKIE-CHEESE IS CANNON! OOF! This story is based off the real life of Biggy Cheese and my beautiful, totally real boyfriend, Hank. This story is epic and was just...
"Well, I decided to jump off my bed. That was pretty fun." He paused to think once more. "Oh yah! And I almost died."
"What?!" I kinda panicked (at the disco) a bit. How could Hank possibly die? "How?!"
"Well, I came home and this random dude was just there, in my room." He pointed to a corner in his room. "He was just singing, all weird and stuff. So I tried to say 'Hello' but he just grabbed me, tied me to a rope, and then to the fan!" My head hurt just from thinking about that.
"So I was just there, hanging, when my mom came into my room and started to scream. The man was still singing by the way. So anyway, my mom took me down and I went to the hospital. I was only there for a day though. It was nice there."
I tired to comprehend what Hank just told me. I couldn't believe what he had just said. Who had tried to kill him? "Who was this man?"
"No clue." He shrugged. "But hey! I'm all good now!"
"Did you tell the cops?"
"...no." There was a long silence. "So, what have you been doing?"
I try to get the thought of Hank dying out of my head. "Music. I've been writing music."
"I love music! I love Nirvana!" Hank scoots over to a desk next to his bed and pulls out a CD.
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"I love this one!" He hands it to me. I've heard it before. To me, they are okay. I prefer more pop-hip-hop-music-stuff. But, maybe I should do give it another try. I trust Hank.
He takes it back. “Heh heh. Yeah.”
There is a knock at the door. “I'll get it, Hank,” I tell him. I open the door to see a lad. He has black, shoulder length hair and is just looking at me. “Uh, hi?”
“Is Hank here?” he asks fastly.
“Um, yeah.”
“...Can I ask him something?”
“...Ask what?”
He leans over and sees Hank who is waving.
“Yo, Hank!” he yells. “You got the good stuff?”
I look at him with narrow eyes. “What?”
“What? Nothing.” He steps back from the door a little. What is this emo boi doing here?
“Uh...so. Who the heck are you?”
“Um, K-Kyle.”
I squint. He looks like a Kyle.
Hank walks over to the door and hands Kyle something. Kyle then skidaddles off, with his white, bootleg “Suprem” swearter. (Not Supreme. The other E is too expensive.)
“Hank,” I close the door and turn to a smiling Hank. “What did you give him?”
“Flour!” he replies happily.
“And where did you get this flour?”
“Well,” he begins. “There was this smol lad running down my hall and he tripped and fell. Then, his bag of flour fell in front of me! And it's just what I needed. I then went inside my house and that boi ran over and pounded my door. He asked for the flour back, but I needed it to cook, so I have him a little bit. Now he just asks me for some of the flour sometimes.”
I close my eyes and rub them. “Oh, Hank...”
“I've also been giving it to my plants. I heard it's good for them!” I look up and over to Hank's plant collection. They are all dead.
