Anthony is currently seated on a raven-colored victorian style sofa with two white pillows with fancy lacework. Actually the motif of the room is victorian, from the white walls with black elegant linings; bell shaped, inside it is another bell with lacework of repeating infinity designs (the floor also had the same color and design), the huge panel window with black and white silk curtains, hanging on the walls was paintings that Anthony knew costs more than his life, and some other extravagant things he didn't wish to set his eyes to.
He is currently in his agent's house, Mr. So didn't go to the publishing house today for reasons he didn't know.
The room is eerie quiet, ironic because of the presence of the black colored with gold linings turntable at the side of the sofa and the various vinyl records safely stored in a glass table near the mini library. He wished to play one song but it might cause the incurring wrath of a monster dressed in human skin.
He tapped his foot impatiently at the floor as he gently caressed the little furball that was sleeping on his lap. He should have felt tense or scared (or even wanting to pee) but all the anxiety vanished and turned to irritation because it's been two hours since he's been waiting for his damned old editor-to show his greasy face and evaluate his manuscript.
This old geezer didn't even offer him biscuits or tea.
The white with black patch kitten started to stir on Anthony's lap. It stared at Anthony and blinked its eyes. Anthony sighed. "Yes, he's still not here, Tibby. Are you hungry? " he soothingly said to the cat, his hands enjoying it as he stroked its soft fur.
Anthony isn't really a cat person but his housemate is-and now, he's slowly becoming one perhaps. Well, his life is stressful and he admits cats are calming.
The cat meowed and yawned, showing its little canines and pink tongue. "Just wait a little, okay? I'll buy you treats later. " He lifted the kitten and kissed its nose, earning an affectionate nudge to his face from the cat.
Before he could play with the cat again, angry footsteps echoed in the room, sounds of grunting welcomed Anthony's ears. He placed the cat back on his lap and stared at the big structure of a black haired man with an enormous round belly holding a black laptop, the man wearing a white polo shirt (its buttons threatening to flee), completing his wardrobe with his brown khaki pants. The man's face is round, eyes chinky-sending daggers as he stared at him. His nose is so perfectly pointed that Anthony wished he was Porcopio- the puppet whose nose gets elongated when he lies. Aside from the perfect nose is his perpetual snarl etched in his lips like a tattoo, he had grown a beard and Anthony thanks him for doing that because he looks less scary, just a bit less, like 0.01%.
Anthony could feel his hands getting wet, nervousness attacked his soul. "Be sure, this is worth my time, you trash!" His voice sounded wet and high pitched like a sea lion given the ability to speak.
Anthony didn't wait for his agent to sit on the sofa, he fished something out of his pocket-a color blue flash drive. He handed it to his agent. "Here's my new story entitled, "Paradox", I've only written half of it, " he said, in return, his agent grumpily snatched away his flash drive and sat on the sofa next to him.
His editor's forehead creased as he inserted the flashdrive. Anthony felt his palms soaked in sweat, the cat, Tibby, affectionately bump its head on Anthony's stomach like a silent motivation.
"So what's this story all about? " his editor asked, tapping the on button of his laptop.
Anthony tapped his foot. "It's about a cat who doesn't like fish. " Anthony's agent stopped tapping on his laptop and gave Anthony a look of disbelief.
"Seriously, trash? Are you crazy with cats? And what's with this cat you're bringing here? " Mr. Pat So pointed his fingers at the tabby on Anthony's lap.
Anthony pasted a bored look on his agent, his gold orbs shone, lips tight and unmoving. "I didn't come here to talk about my pet, just read it, Mr. So. " He fluttered his eyelashes and clicked his tongue, making his agent's eyes send him a look that could kill.
Anthony isn't like this but-his housemate is and it is highly contagious-this development is shocking to him.
He could clearly remember how he received a hideous claw mark in his face for being someone who doesn't fight back. He absent-mindedly touched his left cheek where Aegir had done the evil deed.
His face looked devastated. His eyes red and puffy from crying, his lips swollen and a small trace of blood etched from the side of his mouth. His newly brought navy blue cardigan and white shirt dusted with dirt like he'd been diving in trash.
It's their acquaintance's party today at his university and he wished to dress well yet this happened. On his way to school, he was robbed. He didn't fight back yet he got hurt.
"I shouldn't have taken that shortcut!" he muttered to himself while he's on his way home.
He wished to enjoy the party but he would just be a laughing stock with this look (though he is now). A pedestrian covered her mouth in laughter as he sluggishly walked and a group of teenagers giggled as they stared at him.
He walked faster, head hung low. He doesn't want to hear what they wanted to say, he already knew it-insults.
As he was about to open the gate of his small apartment, he heard someone humming and the sound of taps made when walking, the sound getting closer, then it stopped.
"What are you doing here? Thought there's a huge feast you're going to? Where's my take-out? " Anthony turned around and he saw his housemate, Aegir, eating scones from a paper bag, face confused as he stared.
Anthony opened the gate of his apartment, creating a creak sound. "I was robbed, I decided to go home instead. " he expected sympathy but he got none, instead, Aegir walked towards him and hit him with the paper bag.
"And you let yourself get robbed? What's the use of those muscles you earned from your physical education class? A display? You saved us from that evil big ugly monster yet you can't save yourself? " Aegir started to lecture him, tone higher than usual like a mother berating her child-except that mother possesses a baritone voice-and a male.
Throughout Aegir's stay, this cosplayer brat's vocabulary widden and learned other things because of him.
"He got a knife!" Anthony reasoned out.
Aegir rolled his eyes. "You always watch action movies, and you even copied those hufu moves? Is that hufu? " Aegir questioned what he had said.
"It's kung fu and it's better to give than to die! " Anthony pointed at himself. "If I fought I might get stabbed! "
"Might means not sure, it's a probability, you said that! " Aegir hit him again with the paper bag, this time, with more force.
"Don't use my words against me! "
"Why? You used mine against me too yesterday!" Anthony stopped and thought, and he facepalmed.
"Shut up! " Anthony gritted his teeth.
Aegir didn't let him speak nor prepare himself—Anthony's face incurred his wrath, his long nails left a bloody trail to the unfortunate guy's cheek.