Mister Sinister

2

Corinne left routinely at six after dinner had been made, she'd ensured Brendon made it home and got his work done, and double checked every lock in the house. Of course, Brendon didn't believe her on that last one. So every night at ten, when his whole body racked with aches and his eyes watered, purging him of thoughts and desperate for sleep, he would have to do it himself.

The first pass around the house was always for Rupert. Rupert was more important than himself. If Brendon died, it would be okay. Life for Rupert would go on, he could be happy and safe in his own world, being cared for by Nick, Brendons father's best friend. All would be well as long as Rupert stayed safe.

After locking each door out of love, Brendon couldn't help but to chew on his lip aggressively to stunt his fear of the second lock. What if people found out about him? Called him abnormal, a freak? Broke in, searched his stuff, took Rupert? They would abduct him and experiment on his warped mind until he died of exhaustion, trying to figure own what inhuman beast possessed his insides.

The third lock was to keep Corinne away. That kiniving bitch was not welcome in that home beyond six. Brendon didn't trust her. She may have spoken the truth but her body warned of lies.

The fourth and final lock was reasonable to Brendon. It was the reason any sane person locked their doors. It was a lock of admiration. He didn't want people ransacking the place his father worked so hard to keep up for him

Brendon finished his final rounds and swiftly darted up the stairs, nestling in his bed and preparing for an uneasy cavern of sleep.

He tossed and turned for a few hours, building sweat on his brow and holding murmurs beneath his sheets. The day rose slowly, but Brendon beat it by a few hours, his head warm and his ears full. He never got too much sleep and he never expected to anyways. So at four every morning he started a new day.

"Hi Rupert," he rumbled through a thin webbing of mucus caught in his throat. Fuck mornings.

His bunny's nose twitched rapidly, his white splotches glowing from the light of the bathroom as Brendon sauntered in. Rupert pressed himself flat against the mulch, his excess chub and fur lining him like a skirt, and watched the shadows dance on the door.

Brendon reappeared, his voice and ears clearer and his hands clean enough to pick up the small, innocent creature. Brendon cooed to him and clicked his tongue against his front teeth a few times, nestling him in his arms before he nuzzled Ruperts soft fur with his nose.

The rabbit lightly nibbled on Brendons thumb and he chuckled, nodding and setting the rabbit down on his floor. He allowed the rabbit to run around, 'zoomies' as his mother would have called it, and shut the door as he left.

The morning stayed that way, calm and controlled and filled with adorable fluffballs. Brendon got Rupert his kale and hay and let him frolic around his room. Lucky for him, Corinne didn't come over in the mornings.

He hummed and forced down an apple, lazing on the couch downstairs. He didn't like watching T.V. in the morning- he woke up too early for cartoons to run and the news stressed him out. However this morning Brendon made an exception, it was deathly quiet and for some reason the silence developed a weight tha perched on his shoulders tauntingly.

The T.V. flicked on. Brendon tried not to pay it any mind as he got dressed and flicked on a few lights to fill the ominous void. An hour passed quite easily and his eyes drew closer and closer to the screen before he was sucked in.