Cosplay Shenanigans

8 - of dying walrus and miserable liar

A/N: My depiction of Adrian Gardner.

***

Sunday.

If there was one song that could summarize Abel's current mood down to a T, then it would be that Bruno guy's Lazy Song.

After a marathon of a series he had discovered until the witching hour, his body revolted against the idea of climbing out of his lovely bed. With his face buried in the confines of his cool pillow and his limbs sprawled out on his mattress, no way he would want to withdraw from his sanctuary.

On top of everything, the cosplay con yesterday had sucked the hell out of his remaining stamina. Posing and flaunting for numerous pictures might be within his department, but at the cost of his numbing muscles. That didn't even include his crusade against the great and glorious Princess Charming, all resulting in a complete dud.

Confrontations against her were crystal clear like his future, but that particular farewell on the train... continued to live rent-free in his mind. Ugh, this isn't the time to deal with her. He shook his head. Evict that shit, Abel.

Welp, Sundays had always been those days where he would lock himself in his room, catching up with his entertainment. While Charlotte would normally attend her piano lessons, Adrian would be in some undisclosed location with his friends. Also, Mom and Dad never bothered barging in and yanking his ass out, so there was really nothing to miss.

Was there a need to discuss those two? If there was ever a grading scheme for convenient disappearances, they would have achieved the highest score to date. Jethro would usually follow in their journey, but the constant stomps that rocked the entire house accompanied by a singing equivalent to a dying walrus... begged to differ.

Fortunately, Abel had invited Rocky to his safe space, preventing its innocent eardrums from getting pummeled by his brother's demon-summoning rituals. Despite the protection, the poor baby was still flinching at all of the banging noises. I don't even think demons want to possess him.

Abel's series of unfortunate events didn't end there. This bastard had the audacity to fucking bust the door open, wearing the most deformed grin as he shattered the peace apart.

"Well, well... if this ain't the pro cosplayer everyone knows of." Even before Jethro opened his loud mouth to declare his statement like some god, Abel was already battling the urge to smack the life out of him. His gruff snickers were like metal scraping against each other. "Did your blue hair manage to get you some chicks?"

"Get the hell out, Jethro," Abel scowled, wondering why he couldn't just have the ability to smoulder him with simply his dirty look. "Surely you're coming here just to insult me? What a pathetic move."

"God, aren't you one prickly fella. I'm not even insulting you." Jethro shrugged as he leaned against the door frame. "It's just that our father has been making a lot of fuss about your beautiful hair." He folded his arms, gesturing at Abel's bright locks.

"I don't care what that old geezer wants. It's my hair, not his. I can do whatever I want." He growled and brushed his bangs. "I'm keeping this regardless of what he says."

Heh, so my hair can be something I can use to rebel against Dad. He smirked at the impulsive plan he had constructed. I had fucking enough of being controlled by him.

"Yeah, I know you're gonna say something like that. Don't expect much from you." Jethro sneered, before he cackled like that old hag from the Snow White movie Charlotte had forced him to watch. "Y'know, I'm actually quite concerned about what you're gonna be in the future. No one wants to hire some grown ass man who hung out with weeb freaks and watched weird cartoons."