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It was a good day in Robloxia, for once.
The sun shining way up in the sky, the wind whistling through narrow alleyways, and no exploiters deciding to cause ruckus—it was peaceful, for once. 118o8 sighed heavily, stretching her arms over her head, a small groan leaving her lips.
It was 2 P.M., and due to the long shift she had worked yesterday at the store, she'd been too exhausted to wake up early, and the warmth of the sun through the window only served to make her more tired, meaning that she had let Bluu probably oversleep… again.
She adjusted her glasses, scratching the side of her leg as she leaned down, opening the fridge door, taking a few things out to make breakfast for her and her son, until…
“MAMA!!!”
118o8 blinked.
What.
She turned around, only to see Bluudud charging toward her—he seemed… too awake and happy to have just woken up. Usually, he'd whine and groan, not wanting to wake up at all; small wings fluttering in protest, but right now?
He was wearing this big grin on his face, in that hoodie that he usually only wore for streams, the one that said ‘tem bluudud get inn nowww!!!’. She had designed and bought it for his birthday, and even though she said that he could wear something else, he insisted upon it, saying it was his ‘lucky hoodie’. He was practically bouncing towards her—crashing into her legs and wrapping his stubby arms around them. She yelped, she could barely open her mouth and ask what he was doing up before her, before Bluudud started rambling.
“YOU'LL NEVER GUESS!! I MEAN—SERIOUSLY, ITS SO COOL AND—”
“Aye, slow down, nkem...” she tittered, smiling softly—adoration filling her heart as she kneeled down to meet her son's eyes, pulling away gently as she came down to his level. 8o8 cupped his face, gently squishing his cheeks, “are there ants in your pants, or something? You're bouncing off the walls!”
Bluu giggled softly, smiling so hard she'd thought his cheeks would fall off, “Nooooo!! Ewww—ants can't be in my pants, that's disgusting!!” He said, in a whiny sort of tone, “Seriously, this is important!”
She chuckled, “Okay, okayyy… tell me, what's goin’ on, bud?” She asked, amused at his excitement, whatever it was. He cleared his throat, “Drum roll??” He asked, earnest.
She nodded, dutifully, rolling her shoulders for dramatic effect and adjusting herself to face the cabinets slightly, quickly drumming against the surface, rapidly. Bluu braced himself, slowly letting her build up to it, till he spoke—
“I hit 5 viewers on my stream today!!”
8o8's jaw dropped, as her hands stopped rapping against the cabinet. It was silence for a moment, Bluu blinked, as his shoulders dropped, his smile slowly fading, “... Mo—?”
“Oh my God, honey, that's amazing!!” She immediately interrupted, cradling his face once again as she brought him close—peppering kisses all over. He squealed, bashful and giddy, as he giggled, whining, “Mommmmm!!! Yer squishin’ meeeeee!!”
“Sorry, sorry—” She said, pulling away slightly. A wide, proud smile on her face, eyes bright, “That's crazy, seriously—5 viewers? Are you kidding?” She asked. Bluu shook his head, smiling widely. 8o8 let a small, soft, scream of excitement leave her lips, pulling him in close for a hug, his own arms immediately wrapping around her as he buried his face into the crook of her neck.
Most people would've brushed it off as negligible, not her though.
8o8 knew how hard he'd been working for this, she was there when he cried after not getting any viewers on his first stream, or that time someone in chat had sent a hate comment, there when he got his first viewer—everything, and, well…
That was her son, her Bluu, who'd finally hit the goal he wanted. She couldn't help but be ecstatic.
“Hun, that's—I don't even know what to say!” She said, swaying both of them side to side. She kissed the temple of his head, her voice going softer, “I'm so proud of you, seriously. I couldn't be more proud.”
Bluu hummed, muffled against her, holding on tighter as he nuzzled in more, seemingly just wanting to cling on for a moment. He got like that sometimes, too overwhelmed by his own excitement, needing to slow down.
8o8 thought for a moment or two, “Tell you what—” she pulled away just slightly, still holding onto him loosely, he looked up at her, blinking slowly, “you remember that candy store we saw last weekend on the way back from school? I'll get you a lollipop from there, what do you say?”
His eyes gleamed—brightening and crinkling at the corners, just slightly, as he nodded excitedly. She giggled, pecking his forehead, “Okay, get dressed, alright? We'll go there in 10.”
“Okay!!” Bluu replied, excited as he bolted away—paused, before coming back and giving her one last hug and pulling away, “Thanks, mom!!” He called out.
8o8 smiled to herself.
“Anything for you, nwa.
— — — — timeskip — — — —
They were on the way back home.
Bluu was holding onto 8o8's pinkie as they slowly walked, the sun having sunken just a bit. She was humming to herself, soft and faint, a bit distracted.
“Hey, ma?” He asked, looking up at her. She looked down, “Hmm?” She replied. Bluu thought for a bit, cheeks puffed up a bit as he looked down at the ground, as if he were trying to piece the words together.
“Do you really think I can get, like, more viewers if I keep trying?” He asked, looking back up, “I mean… I've been trying for a year now, and now I'm 9 and I've only hit 5—people get loads more, what if I'm just not good at it??”
8o8 blinked, eyebrows furrowing, “Eh? Why're you asking me that?” She asked, her worry seeping into her tone. He was a sensitive kid, her sensitive kid, and last time he asked questions like this, he'd been getting bullied in school, and no one had done anything till she had marched in there and screamed at them all to fix it, but… this didn't seem like that.
Bluu shrugged, trying to act indifferent, even if it was clear to see that he was upset. She looked at him for a moment or two, before sighing softly, “Bluu, look at me.”
Bluu looked up at her, his wide, white eyes flickering with a mix of insecurity, envy, and uncertainty. She looked back at him, before looking forward, “You know, I used to feel like that too,” she spoke, looking back at him. He looked genuinely baffled by that, “... Really?” He whispered.
She hummed in affirmation, “Yep. When your old mama used to competitively play games, she used to get real sad whenever someone overtook her or beat her,” she said, “and then she used to think that she should stop trying to beat anyone cause there was no point.”
“... Oh,” He mumbled, dismayed, his wings curling up close to him. The corner of her lips curved up, “But you know what?” She continued, “I kept trying anyway. And I got good, I mean—I beat you all the time, so that means I must be reeeaally good, right?”
Bluu snickered, his arms twitching, “You don't beat me… you just—have the better controller,” he said, kicking a rock. She laughed softly at that, amused, leaning down just a bit to boop his nose, “Sorry~ made a big mistake there, didn't I?”
He giggled in reply, shy. She stared at him for another moment, before, in a soft tone, she spoke, “Bluu,” she said—he looked up at her, “you're the smartest, most amazing kid in the world. You're gonna do amazing things when you grow up, never forget that, okay?”
Bluu blinked, eyes wide, but after a moment or two, he nodded. She nodded back, “Good—ah, we're here.”
She said, walking towards the door. She looked back at him, “Hey, you get started on that lollipop, okay? I'll just get the keys and open the door.”
He nodded, smiling softly—she returned it, as he let go of her finger. She turned around, facing the door, searching the pockets of her pants for the house keys.
Bluu slowly unwrapped the lollipop, humming jovially as he started to lick at it. He shifted the weight on his feet, back and forth, swinging, till he looked across the road.
There was a kitten on the street, meowing, clearly injured. It was black, its fur interspersed with an odd red, its eyes creepily wide and humanlike, the sclera white and its pupils being round, not slits like a
He blinked, frowning.
It… was an odd cat, sure—but, it was still on the road.
That was dangerous.
Glancing back at his mom, and then checking both the sides of the road, he carefully stepped forward, approaching the cat. He expected it to be like the usual stray, all apprehensive and snappy, but… it kept quiet, almost like it was watching him.
Bluu brushed off those thoughts, as he softly murmured under his breath, “Hey, kitty… you're injured, aren't you?” He softly asked, pouting, “C’mon, let's get you out…” he murmured, picking it up tentatively as it meowed once. He tucked it under his arm, crossing the street and putting it down on the sidewalk.
It looked up at him, and brushed against his legs once with a small ’mrrp.’, scampering away. He watched it go, smiling a bit. He felt… good, doing that, especially when his mom said he'd do good later in life—maybe he could do stuff like that? That's something Guest 1337 would do too, so that was even more cool. Maybe he could be like him one day.
He looked back, as his mom was finally unlocking the house—he started to cross the road, “Mom! You'd never guess what I just did—”
8o8 sighed as she stretched a bit, turning back around, “Yes, lo—”
Her breath caught, and her eyes widened
It's like time slowed down at that moment.
The car was just mere inches away, as Bluu was smiling, lollipop in hand, approaching her. She hadn't even noticed he crossed the road. She reached out, screaming, “BLUU—!”
A sickening, horrifying, crush.
She gasped, thin as her hand clapped over her mouth. She felt nauseous, dizzy, the smell of metal filling her senses, her ears ringing and the corners of her vision darkening.
8o8 didn't want to believe it—she couldn't. She couldn't comprehend that the mangled mess of blue and red in front of her was her son, that the blood staining the concrete was his, that the crushed mess of limbs under the car, the car everyone on the street was surrounding now, was his body, the same body that had bolted towards her and hugged her so tightly that morning, so full of life, was now completely deprived of it.
A strangled noise left her lips, a cry, maybe. She choked on her tears, running towards him as she screamed, pushing through the crowd, “Let me through. Let me through—LET ME THROUGH!” She yelled, as people parted, all horrified and whispering amongst each other.
She looked down at him.
The lollipop he'd been in awe over earlier was near him. Its bright colours mocked her—as she stared at his once bright, now dull, blue skin, his eyes were wide, as if stuck in that moment between excitement and shock, and his hands—God, his small hands were now limp, scarred, and his hoodie, that damn hoodie, was ripped, having been dragged with him across the asphalt by the car.
She cried in horror, slowly falling to her knees as she grabbed at him, “That's my son!” 8o8 gasped out, as his blood smeared against her hands and her clothing. She sobbed, painfully, her body shuddering—wracked with insurmountable despair, “My boy—my boy, nkem—” she barely managed to gag out, leaning her head against him, “No, no, no, no…”
People tried to hush her, rubbing her back and trying to offer comfort and hope—
And yet, 8o8 knew it was all in vain.
Because her baby was gone, and nothing could bring him back.