You're Awfully Rude(Paris x Reader)

Happy 4th Anniversary TDD! (!Special Angst Extra!)

Happy birthday to The Dummy's Dummy! It turned 4!!! Woowowdoiefwehfxiwuehfiuew.

To celebrate, gonna use the title of Mocha's latest art of Yumi and Paris as a writing prompt! Past and Present! 

This is a continuousion of the fluff extra. (Thanks @Red_Ouniqe for the lil' tip for my updating method thingy lmao)

>o<

Cleaning proved to be a more difficult task than first anticipated. The shirt in the sink was the first thing they cleared up together, that part was easy, but it got harder the moment they entered her room.

"What in the world." Paris breathed. My room was absolute trash, the bed was littered with dirty (and probably clean) clothes, the clothing I wore for the Sewers Adventure was in the corner of the room. You could even see things, unspeakable things, poking out from under my bed.

I nervously laughed as I carefully kicked a half eaten chocolate bar to the side, it was melting and left stains on the floor when it was moved. I shuddered in disgust.

Paris rolled his eyes and pulled up his sleeves, which looked oddly hot, he placed his hands on his hips. "Let's get working now, shall we?"

"Never knew you could clean." I stuck my tongue out playfully.  Paris clicked his tongue and scoffed.

"I've been cleaning my creator's messes since I was made."

Oof, he got me there. I shrugged, hopping into the middle of my room to do a twirl. "It's been so long since I've actually slept in here."

Paris had begun to pick up clothes that were scattered across the floor, crouching down withhis back facing me. "Where do you sleep then?"

"On the couch." I replied automatically, picking up the clothes from Sewer Adventures™ and shivering from how crunchy it felt. That's right. Crunchy.

He paused, looking up at me in confusion as I continued to pick clothes off from my bed. He opened his mouth. "The couch?"

"Why yes, Paris, I do sleep on the couch. Soft big chair boi." I chimed in response, neatly placing all of the clothing in my hand.

"Certainly, that isn't very comfortable. Is it?" Paris asked, voice laced with concern. I avoided eye contact, suddenly very interested in my shoes. He added: "And for someone so hyper active, you do very little cleaning."

Even though the comment was meant to be just...a comment, I felt my face burn up in shame, gripping the clothes in my hand tightly. Paris didn't take notice of this and proceeded to resume cleaning, he picked up the chocolate bar and dumped it in my, surprisingly empty, bin.

"Wow, you really are a messy person. The cleanest thing in this room is literally your bin." Paris chuckled, trying to push humor into the situation. But it only degraded me further. I bit my bottom lip and forced a smile, choking out a laugh.

He decided to just work in silence from then on.

Until he stumbled onto an old photograph, buried deeply under my bed that he had just cleared out. Spoiler alert, the monstrosities under my bed were stacks upon stacks of old exam papers. 

I came back from loading the washing machine with the dirty laundry and found him staring at the photo, he looked up when I entered.

"Why do you have this under your bed?" He turned the picture, showing it to me. I smiled fondly the moment I saw it. It was babey me and my parents, I was probably a little 6 year old in that picture. Little me was sitting on dad's shoulder, mom laughing by his side. We were all so happy.

I wondered what changed.

"No idea, maybe I accidentally kicked it under." I mumbled, gently taking the framed photo from Paris' hand to set on my sock drawer. I continued to look at it, my eyes tracing the three familiar faces.

"You look happy in that." He said, standing behind me. He rested his chin on my shoulder and I exhaled a breath of air, his cool skin caused me to shiver slightly from the physical contact.

"Yeah."

"What happened to them?" 

I stopped breathing for a minute, my brain tried to rack up an answer, none. What did happen? Why don't I remember? Why am I here? Where are they?

How did I forget every single detail about them?

My shoulders hunched, my hand closed around my throat gently, breathe. I can't breathe. 

Paris sensed the abnormal pause in my breathing and quickly straightened his posture, turning me around so he could see my face. He grabbed my hands and pulled them down, placing his forehead against mine. "Hey, hey. Don't worry, I got you. Breathe. In...out...in...out..." 

I gaped like a fish as I took in a breath of air, then exhaled through my nose. It was very rushed and messy though and I was most definitely not listening to Paris. He covered my mouth, quite forcefully in an annoyed tone. "Slowly. Breathe. In and out." He said in a low voice, his other hand traced gentle circles on my palm.

This time, I obeyed and began to breathe the right way. In and out. When my breathing regulated, he pulled his hand away from my mouth. 

Unfortunately, as disgusting as it sounds, when Paris had removed his hand from my mouth, a trail of drool was dripping off my chin and his hand. My face reddened in embarrassment as I realized I had forgotten to close my mouth earlier due to the panic.

He didn't pay any mind to it and stared into my eyes, worry was written all over his face as he checked on me one last time. When I looked fine to him, he sighed. "I apologize for the question, I didn't know it was a sensitive topic."

I dropped to the ground, still trying to maintain my breathing. "Neither did I."

Paris looked like he wanted to know more, but his lips were sealed tight. I wiped my chin with my shoulder sleeve and a few stray tears with my hand. Paris wiped the saliva off his hand with a handkerchief as I continued: "Maybe I'll find out one day."

He sat down next to me and pulled my head onto his shoulder in a comforting sort of way and wrapped an arm around me. "Of course and I'll be right by your side."

I smiled. "Thanks."