—“you want me to be your what now?”

did i mention that your parents are dead? they died in the war of the playground and blackrock. you were their only child, being placed in a foster home for the rest of your life. the first few days that you could remember, they both loved you and treated you like family. . . if only that could’ve stayed. it didn’t take long for your already traumatized 8 year old brain to realize that this was all a facade. the abuse you were force to endure by the foster parents snaked its way into your childhood mind and corrupted it forever. you were now 14, eligible to play in phighting, something you’ve always wanted to do. a small escape in your life was to watch the phights that were live streamed on tv ~when they let you~. over the matches, you became close to a very specific phighter, medkit. first, he never really payed attention to you and your childish pestering, but he soon found you more mature than most phighters. the extremely short one worded answers soon turned into full blown conversations. during this time, you may or may not have called him ‘dad’ on accident; which would make you shrink away in embarrassment whenever someone would mention that. but, all good things have to come to an end.

you were sent back to your house, which was not a warm welcome. slurs and insults were the first thing you heard as you scurried off to your room. you locked the door as you rotted yourself in your room, tears already threatening to spill. finally, you had enough. you grabbed some stuff and ran away. not too far, but to a very specific person’s house, who is also medkit. you banged on his door relentlessly, which he begrudgingly opened; but only saw a teary faced you; which he let you in. you’re currently sitting on his couch as you sat next to him, crying about your situation.