Chapter Text
He hates the buzzing in his skull. It stings and festers, it’s a pain to suppress it. There’s days where he wants to give up and let his emotions loose, to quit hiding himself. To quit putting on a smile for the audience.
But he has to. He’s just like everyone else. No matter how badly that bright pink electricity just wants to crackle and burst at the slightest amount of pressure. But he’d rather die than cut his hair. It’s just too pretty, even if it’s a bit of a hazard.
He’s just like everyone else. That’s definitely not why he wears his sunglasses. They wouldn’t see sharp, white lashes underneath them. Neon pink eyes with blue stars for pupils, that wouldn’t be a concern. They just bring out his charm and mystique. He’s not hiding anything.
He’s just like everyone else. So what if he’s a little shy to smile wide? It’s not like a full set of canines is as easy to conceal as everything else he has going on.
He’s just like everyone else. He’s ordinary. Extraordinary in a normal way, at most. He’s got personality, but to a tolerable amount. At least he isn’t annoyingly boisterous like someone he knows but would prefer not to name.
To them, he’s Host Cookie. The ingredients he’s made up of aren’t part of the equation. He’s Hollyberrian, they assume. He’s probably just some kind of fruit.
They’re not far off, he supposes. He just wishes the word “Gummy” wasn’t cursed to be tacked onto that.
Of course his other siblings, who didn’t care about these sorts of things, didn’t end up inheriting them. Of course he had to look the most like her. Be the most like her.
Physically, of course. He’d rather die than be considered anything like her personality-wise.
…How long had he been staring in the mirror?
Host Cookie sighs, shaking his head. His younger brother is probably out of the house already, adding color to “dull” the kingdom with little care for what rules he may be breaking along the way. He can’t completely bring himself to care anymore, either. At least he was having fun.
He may have had the day off, but Host doesn’t want to look like a mess. Even if he hasn’t decided yet whether he’s going out or staying home. He hates the anxiety inducing silence of their home, but being out in public can be so, so much worse.
So, with an annoyed huff, he opens the drawer to the sink, fishing for a hairbrush. It’s his least favorite part of his morning routine, and not just because his hair is so long that it takes ages to get knots out of.
And soon enough, he finds one, holding it firmly in his hand and running his fingers over the bristles. He’s going to hate this so, so much.
He brings the brush to his hair, and he’s barely dragged it along before a bright spark of pink electricity crackles to life, causing him to flinch at the shock that’s driven up his body. It’s such an awful feeling. He doesn’t get how she deals with it all the time.
He hates the feeling of staring in the mirror as he does it. His eyes are the exact same as hers. They’re the exact same.
He decides to just direct his focus on his hair, rather than looking in the mirror while doing so. He’d rather focus on being a freak in just one way than two.
Knot after knot, shock after shock, it’s an agonizingly long process. Or, at least it feels like one. Each zap gives him goosebumps, causing him to shiver at the feeling of it. He wants it to be over more and more the longer it drags on.
And eventually, it is. He sighs as he tosses the hairbrush in the sink, taking a hair tie from the drawer. He’ll put it away later, he doesn’t want to deal with that right now.
He holds the hair tie in his mouth as he pulls his hair back. It’s his favorite one. This sort of yellowy-green color, designed to look like the leaves of a fruit. He wears it almost every day. Maybe he should put it somewhere better than just a random drawer in the bathroom..
With that thought, he takes it out from between his teeth, bringing it back to tie his hair in its usual ponytail. It always looks good like this. It’s a style that brings out his natural charm.
Even if the green of his hair tie is, annoyingly, more yellow-leaning in shade than his favorite bowtie.
He looks back at the mirror for one final time for the morning. At least, one final time without his glasses, heading out of the bathroom and into his bedroom to fetch the aforementioned accessory.
He finds them on his nightstand, right where they’re supposed to be, picking them up and putting them on. Right where they’re supposed to be.
He could call up Salt Water Taffy Cookie if she isn’t busy. He doesn’t have anything better to do today, and she was usually up for just about anything. Though, it probably helped that she always had all the ideas. Host himself was always so indecisive.
Though, there was one thing he was sure he’d decided on.
He was about done with worrying over cookies who weren’t even in his life anymore. At least for now. At least for today.