Chapter Text
The sun once more, woke 7n up. Groggy, tired and mostly; heartbroken. The bed felt empty, nobody to cling on. The warmth he longed for, never coming back.
He was sure he'd come back.
All he had to now, was bare doing his daily schedule. Without him.
Make coolkidd his breakfast and lunch for school.
Wake him up.
Get him ready.
Walk him to school.
Make himself and his—
Maybe he could do that one alone..
Or so he thought, the kitchen reeked of burnt food. The fork almost started turning red due to how hot it was.
Maybe all he needed was a tutorial? Yes. He did need a tutorial, he had nobody to help him cook breakfast for himself. All he had to do was search up, "how to make breakfast after getting divorced-" no don't search that up..
~*.°✿★ ..~♪°•.*
7n landed on just making himself instant noodles, it was unhealthy. But he couldn't care less, his mentality was deteriorating after all — it tasted bland. Somehow, but when Elliot made it? It tasted like an eternal paradise of happiness.
He wasn't independent. And he just now realized, he was so dependent on other people he forgot how to take care of his own self.
His son was the only way he could be a person somebody relied on, but now.
He had to rely on himself, it was.. tiring.
~*.°✿★ ..~♪°•.*
007n7 sat down on his bed for.. 5 minutes? 10 minutes? An hour? Or 5. All he knew he has to pick up c00lkidd when his phone rang.
He couldn't ask Elliot to pick him up for him, because he's gone.
He couldn't call his cousin either, they were out of town.
Maybe..
Maybe he could write a letter? As if, 007n7 wasn't poetic. Plus, he couldn't send it to Elliot. He was banned from every public place in the city. Most recently, builder's brothers.
. . .
He couldn't control his son during that time, he watches as the place burst into flames. His son laughing and telling him 'Dad look! I'm cool right?! I didn't forget what you taught me!'
The customers ran out, employee's coughing.
But he could only focus on one thing,
Elliot.
Elliot stared at him with terror, disappointment, and anger.
He didn't know if that anger was directed to him, or t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ his son, or both of them.
~*.°✿★ ..~♪°•.*
007n7 sat at their desk.
They couldn't do anything but write in this house,
Even if he tried to draw, he would 'fail'. He couldn't even make up what he was seeing,
But all he had was paper, and a pencil, and what else could you do with a paper and a pencil other than draw?
Write.
007n7 didn't know who to write it for, also. What to write it about.
So he did the first thing in his mind;
Write an apology letter for him.
And so, he wrote,
"My dearest Elliot,"