"Ah fuck."
That's it. That's all I had in me. My head was cooked. My throat felt like I licked a carpet. The air? Nasty. Real nasty.
I sat up. Elodie was there. Naked. Again. Of course. I remembered litey nothing. Not the party. Not why my foot hurt. Not why my arm was in a plastic bag. That's future me's problem. I stood. Everything sucked.
Then I saw that dude. Again.
Same crusty rando who's been squatting in my room all week like it's a hotel. Just… there. Always. Like a cursed background prop nobody knows how to remove. Sometimes on my beanbag. Sometimes on the floor. Sometimes using my toothbrush. Don't ask. Always shirtless. Always confused. Always high off something spiritual and probably illegal.
I stared. He blinked. Kinda.
Not today. I ain't babysitting this Walmart Buddha again.
I needed Goldie.
Also, side note—why the hell am I narrating all this like I'm being watched? Oh wait. I am. Readers. Forgot y'all were here.
Anyway.
I walked down the hall like someone who pays rent. "Goldieeee!" I yelled. Her door was open. She was face down, half-dressed, one sock like a clown. Slept like rent wasn't due.
"Elodie's naked again. And there's still a strange man in our house. Just vibing. I think he ate my cereal. BTW, where are the other twins girls who live here?"
She didn't even move. "Go away."
Cool. Thanks. Really helpful
Then the dude appeared behind me. No warning. Just walked past holding a can of beans and a spoon like life made sense.
I turned around.
Goldie turned around.
He blinked.
I pointed. "Who tf is this guy?"
Goldie squinted. "Wait… has he always been here?"
"YES. LIKE A DAMN STAIN." I shouted. She scratched her head. "Huh. Persistent."
Then outta nowhere he goes, "Pancakes."
I blinked. "What."
"My name. Pancakes."
"…Your name is PANCAKES?"
He nodded, real proud. "Pretty sure." I stared at him for like five business minutes.
Then he just dropped. Boom. Passed out. Face first. No explanation. Just… bean juice everywhere.
Goldie looked. "Weird."
Then went right back to sleep.
"Great, now I gotta make pancakes" I shook my head, dragging the dumbass back to my room, ion even know why I did that.
I dragged my useless self to the kitchen, made some coffee. Ughhhh!!! It tasted like burnt battery acid, but finally... finally, felt slightly less like a walking L.
"Damn... this week's been cooked," I muttered to nobody. Just me and my demons. Cool.
So I started making pancakes. For that guy. Yeah. That guy. No idea why. I was bored. No tours. No assignments. No chaos. Just vibes. And not even the good kind. The "I'm gonna slap the wall out of boredom" kind.
Then Elodie strolled in. Naked. Like full-on birthday suit. Like she owned the place.. which, fair.
"Yo why you naked" I said, side-eyeing her. "Not that I'm complaining though. Respectfully(this is so you guys don't sue me). You look good."
She smirked. "You cooking? That's new."
"Shut up, I cook... and wear something before you sit your ass on my counter." I flipped the pancake like I had purpose. I didn't. But it.... kinda looked cool.
"Wait—too late. Come here, let me kiss you till I die." Yeah… my pervy side just took the wheel from there. I ain't even fight it. Matter fact, I gave it snacks and directions.
"Oooh someone's in a good mood" she said, strutting over like she owned me. And dude? I was ready to be owned.
Bro. She's hot. Like—hot. Like capital H. You know what? Lemme give y'all a visual 'cause I know y'all love eating with your eyes.
Face.... Think Ariana Grande, but like… with less filters and more attitude. Like if Ariana actually knew how to throw hands and didn't care about her skincare routine.
Body? I dunno bro. No celeb is coming to mind. Oh yeah! Think Doja Cat. That girl built like she was designed in GTA with the "thicc" slider maxed out but still hits choreography like she owes nobody an apology. Toned, thick, flexible, energy unmatched. That's your girl.
And yeah, I know what you're thinking:
"Wait—how tf do you know who Doja Cat and Ariana are if they don't exist in your world??"
Listen... I need you to take that thought... and bury it. Like really deep. Like six-feet-under, mafia-style. We don't speak of it again. Like Bruno.... Shhh. Just let it go.
Anyway, she leaned in. I caved. Obviously. Carried her thick ass like a reward I earned and dropped her on the kitchen table. Yeah, right there. Next to the half-made pancakes. We started making out like we had no sense of hygiene, pride, or priorities. Honestly? Worth it.
Her legs wrapped around me like she owned me. And I ain't even fight it. What kind of idiot would fight that?
She kissed me like she was trying to make me forget my name. Newsflash—it was already gone.
"Damn" I muttered against her neck, "you smell like... victory and bad decisions."
She laughed. "And you smell like alcohol and regret."
"Yeah, I know," I said. "Sexy, right?"
Her hands slid up my shirt like we had no bills, no trauma, no junkie in the living room. Like life was sweet. It wasn't, but hey—this was close.
One more kiss. Just one. Maybe three.
Oh my God, she's here. Goldie walked in, rubbing her eyes like she just woke up from a coma. "Man, I gotta get me some of those pan—OH MY GOD. I'm scarred. My eyes. My soul."
"WTF are you doing here, Goldie?!" I snapped, using my entire body to block Elodie like a glitchy Sims character. She dipped behind me real fast like that was gonna fix it.
Goldie blinked. "Uhhh… I live here?"
"Shut up, I know that" I said, looking away.
"I should... go get some clothes" Elodie whispered and tried to dash to my room.
BUT OF COURSE—this house is cursed.
THUMP.
"Yooo, who's disturbing my sl—"
The junkie. Half-asleep. Standing in the hallway like Bigfoot just spawned. And Elodie, still naked, ran straight into him.
They both froze.
He blinked. "Who you?" Bro sounded like an NPC spawning in Skyrim. No awareness. No shame. Just beans and vibes.
"Well this just took a wild turn, didn't it?" I said.