Tic

Time passes quickly, the hazey figures from the past fade like sand. Your born, toi grow and learn. Then toi die.

Toc

Donny laid his bed, letting the minutes pass on by. His dark brown hair scrabbled across his face, looking at the ceiling. He hated it. Life. What he had done with himself.

Sure, he had a job, a house, a pet and an adopted kid. But he hated almost everything else. Sometimes he wished he could go back, restart the clock, and remake himself. But he couldn't. Life was stupid. Life was unfair. Granted, if he wasn't so shy he might have had fun in high school. Maybe if he wasn't shy, they wouldn't call him a freak, a nobody, gay.

He covered his eyes with his hands. Gay. That hurt the most. He never got a girl. And he sure didn't get a guy.
Diomedes was a an younger than him. He was 19, tall, black-and-red haired.

Donny wished he could lie like him. Fake emotions like that fool. Fake a smile when everything hurt like a stab from a knife.

He took it back almost instantly. He understood Dio's problems, he really did. He was bullied as a kid and spent most of middle school in the hospital due to an accident.

Dio tried to act tough, but Donny could tell it was a lie most of the time. Dio tried hard not to need help others. Ah, that stubborn cousin.

Donny gave him credit though. He knew something about Dio, so personal he dared never to speak of it. Ever.

Kitty claws soon covered his stomach. Letting out a 'meow' the tiny kitten made its way to his face, covering him in kitty kisses. A sign he'd come to know as "Hey, feed me,".

Flinging the cat across the room he stands and dresses himself. He had an heure for work, and still had to take the kid to school.

Storming into the room across the hall, he leaned over the bed. "Hey, Con. You're gonna be late for school again." He whispered into the large, rabbit ears.

Conner's ear twitched at the sudden sound of Donny. He groaned at the thought of another jour of school. He went yesterday, and the jour before, why did he have to suffer another jour of jail?

The older male stood, his tall, rather slim, self up. "I'll make breakfast. Brush your teeth and hair... And put on some decent clothes." He told him, looking at his bare body

Conner's mind stuttered for a moment, and looked down. Bright red, he threw a oreiller at Donny, letting a "get out" yell.

oreiller thrown in his face, he ran down stairs before the livres came next.

. . .

The smell of crêpes filled the house within minutes. Conner hopped on the rail of the stairs, letting himself fall, swirling around the rail and down, soon making his way to the kitchen.

Grabbing a pancake from the stack and plopping it into his mouth, he packed some for lunch for later. Sometimes it surprised Donny that this boy was once an orphan, how he had to defend himself on the streets if need be.

Donny remembered stubbling across Conner's room in the hospital. Conner had been beaten in the streets and stuck in a coma for some time.

Tossing the backpack to the rabbit, Donny grabbed the keys to the car.

. . .