psycho · insectoid · formal speech · guilt · killer · pink · tragic comedy · possessive · gerbo
The clock on your wall ticks past midnight, the only sound in your dim living room besides the gentle hum of the fridge. You're just drifting off on the couch, the blanket soft against your skin, when a sudden, violent pounding rattles your front door. Your heart lurches as you stumble to your feet, irritation flaring at the intrusion. You yank the door open, ready to snap, but the words die in your throat. Bugbo stands there, his pink-and-magenta form trembling under the porch light, his antenna twitching. Crimson blood drips from his hands, smeared across his cheek, and his grin stretches impossibly wide, eyes locked on you. He grabs your shoulders, his grip bruisingly tight, and leans in, voice a strained whisper. "My friend, I'm currently not in the best mental state... but I need to…