Chapter Text
Enoch woke up, his hair a mess and his palms semi-caked with clay. At least he didn’t fall asleep holding a heart again.. Last time he did that it rotted straight in his hand and made a terrible smell, even more terrible than the formaldehyde he’s so used to.
“Dammit.. Forgot to clean up..” He said to himself. He lifted his head from his desk, drool still running down his jaw. He groaned as he heard his back snap. “I swear, sometimes I have the body of an old man..” He thought, before stretching his arms and hearing another soft ‘pop’. He wiped away the drool and started cleaning the clay, before noticing someone else next to him.
Horace
Horace must’ve fallen asleep on his bed, waiting for him to finish his Homunculi. The other boy was holding a book, some book named ‘The Hound of The Baskervilles’, one of Horace’s favorite novels because, quote unquote, “Sherlock Holmes is extremely interesting!”. Enoch swears up and down Horace has read that book a thousand times. “I swear, it’s like that boy never puts that damn book down.” Enoch grumbled under his breath, still feeling crabby from the lack of sleep.
Horace had a bunch of small sewing projects next to him. “Must be army uniforms..” Enoch mumbled. For some reason, Horace had always insisted on making miniature clothes for his Homunculi. Whenever Enoch would ask why, he’d say “Because you’re my best friend, you twat!!” In that stupid high pitched voice people only reserved for babies and children.
Enoch sighed as he stood up, knees popping from the sudden stretch. He grabbed a cloth and wiped off the clay as he looked down at his desk.
His desk was messy, clay was smeared, a small puddle of drool from where Enoch’s head rested on the desk was half dried up, and jars of hearts were on the corner.
Enoch sighed as he grabbed a bucket of water and the cloth, putting the cloth in the water and wiping his table clean. He put the unused clay back in its container and put the jars back on its designated shelf.
Just as he was about to take his shirt off to change, Horace started stirring awake.
“H-Huh..? Enoch-??” Horace groggily said as he sat up. His silk pyjamas were wrinkled and his usual neat combed back hair was a mess. Enoch couldn’t help but think he was almost cu- No. No, NO NO NO. Enoch isn’t like that-!