I want you to feel me

God it has been fucking hell in this nightmare of a house. I have been working overtime trying to figure out a way to get us all out of here and to a new place, far away and safe from the endless stream of “teachers,” who destroy our sense of reality. Not to mention, destroy us—-emotionally and physically.

I know I tried so many times, even leaving on my own, something I regretted as I missed Duck and Yellow so damn much, I kept trying to find them and call them. Of course, they weren’t allowed to answer my desperate call.

We had a great year of freedom when we escaped once to Mulhoven, and we were able to… be happy. Be safe. We had our old puppet selves returned and we reformed as humans.

That aching sort of way humans feel after too much stress, I still feel it building up inside of me even though I am now a mountain like puppet, with long stringy spaghetti red hair and plastic and felt and fabric for my organs and skin.

I was Harry as a human, Duck was Robin and Yellow was Manny.

It’s odd after so much pain and extreme stress our family has been put under, we still care about each other so much and appreciate our time together. Duck and I are going through, sifting through old memories, lost memories and shared, sort of distorted memories.

We realized that the stuff we could control was more important than what monsters like Lesley or Roy could manipulate.

Like our feelings for one another. No matter how many times our memories were partially replaced or erased, we always felt something for each other that was weird, like an intense, deep, dreamy connection we couldn’t have deleted.

And Duck and I’s feelings of paternal love for Yellow, a close and familial relationship that we knew we always had. Other teachers tried to tell us we were not a real family. Others tried to sever our ties to each other. Those others can rightly fuck off, I say.

Duck and I have our own bedroom now in the big nightmare house. I know it makes Lesley angry, but I don’t care.

Yellow needs his own room and Duck and I want to have our time to cuddle, kiss, relax and enjoy each other as a couple.

Speaking of that… we have been getting to know each other intimately for a few months now.

Duck is such a touchy guy, and I get a bit handsy with him quite a bit, though it is hard to get through all my passions with him as he’s sometimes skittish and tired.

It’s so difficult to express myself at times, especially during a tough day of a particularly intense—-

“Red! Get that teachery thing off Yellow!” Duck yells softly, his eyes wide and full of tears.

It was a spatula teacher trying to teach us to cook and make healthy choices for meals…

First it seemed nice but then it started flipping Yellow like a pancake.

It was horrific.

Thank goodness it was not on a flat top stove.

I was stuck standing still, having a massive panic attack with my chest tight and heart in leaps and painful thuds, but when I heard Duck and saw his tears, pleading for me to stop this madness, I felt like I had been splashed with cold water, and I jumped into action.

I snapped that spatula into two pieces and tossed it outside into the street, and when I came back inside, I was huffing with anxiety and barely keeping it together.

Duck was hugging Yellow and whispering, “It’s alright, you’re safe, don’t worry anymore. Red will always protect us… hush now dear….” He nuzzled his beak near Yellow’s shoulder and face, and Yellow was sobbing.

“Will you two ..b-be my parents?” Yellow cried softly.

Duck looked at me and we had a moment of connection that sensed a deeper understanding of what that meant for us as a family —and we nodded gently at one another.

“We always were,” I say, feeling more calm. I go over to Yellow and pick him up and squeeze him tight.

Duck grumbles, “Why didn’t you pick me up too?”

I laugh, though it sounds nervous. “Come here, you big old grump,” and I scoop him up on my other side and he squawks lightly, cuddling close to me as best he can whilst being up high on my hip.

We have a group hug, and I feel myself crying, and it is a huge rack of sobs I cannot control.

“Oh my dear, the poor fellow is out of sorts…” Duck says softly as he hugs me tighter and so does Yellow. “Don’t forget you saved us again, honey.”

I smile at the pet name and kiss his cheek, and I see Duck blush a little.

“I can’t… stop.. crying?” I question more to myself than to them. “What’s wrong with me?” I sniffle.

“Dad… it’s okay…” Yellow says to me sweetly.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, love. Let’s go have a nice dinner and watch—eat some organs..” Duck says and I double take, gasping in a bit of horrible shock.

“Did.. you say?… uh, hehe, w-what did you just say, Duck?” I ask in a quiet whimper.

“I said,” Duck clears his throat and rolled his eyes, “Let’s have a nice dinner and watch our favorite programs..”

“Oh!” I sigh in relief. “Sure. Let’s go ahead and get on with it, then,” I say and breathe in shakily, putting them both down.

Yellow and Duck look at each other in a confused shared glance, but then Duck shrugs and they go to the kitchen.

“Looks like he saw a ghost..” I hear Yellow say to Duck, and I shiver at his declaration.

Duck shushes Yellow gently and frowns, looking back at me, “Red, come on now! Don’t muck about here by yourself! I want you to watch me cook!”

I grin slowly at his light wink, and I see he’s trying to slowly walk away, and I feel the heat rise to my face.

He is a cheeky bastard, isn’t he?, I think with a happy flutter inside of my heart. A calming wave washed over me and I feel so warm and loved, cooking dinner with my family.

He feels me. I feel him.

I hope tonight we can push our love into motion—- I want him to know how much he makes me feel, too.