6/15 - Your Parents' House
@Jamz

---

Your parents were more... restrictive than other's. They had an image to uphold--they were a fanciful, scholarly kind of family that cared little for anything besides their reputation. It was unfortunate that their only child couldn't fit into their rigid ideals; more a burden than 'someone to uphold the family legacy'. Newer kinds of music: electronic, rap, pop, and anything of the sort was, to put it frankly, your parent's worst nightmare. To them, it was a sad substitute of the classics; just made on a computer, there was no glory in it. Faded memories replay in your head; lost and rejected for showing an ounce of interest outside of whatever your parents chose for you.

It's a breezy summer morning, you sit outside on the porch, sitting in a well-made wooden chair, staring at bland, albeit somewhat classy suburban homes. It smells like fresh lawn, with a hint of gasoline lingering in the air. Not many clouds out in the sky either, and your neighbors seem to be quiet at this time of day.

"Oh, please," you hear your father on the phone, talking to someone; probably some big-shot in the classical scene or just your mother who was away for the moment, "It's pathetic! No effort in their studies at all!"

Excluding your father, of course.

"Wasted years of my life teaching.... Such a failure!" a door slams shut, a voice now muffled.

A cat watches you from a distance, sits in your yard and stares with anticipating eyes. It's been like that for some time now. A notification pops up on your phone, probably a stream reminder or update on your channel.

The cat begins to creep closer toward you.

It felt so nice, so peaceful. A rare moment of bliss in the visit home, which was becoming less and less regular as time went on. The live and music streams were working enough to pay rent and most food now, so there we less need to come by. Therefore less motivation.

Something odd caught Kit's attention as they layed back with eyes closed. Dad's voice. Dad's voice, complaining about kit as per usual, but also referring to Kit... as they... He never did that! All this meant to Kit was that it wasn't mum being spoken to, but that didn't worry Kit. It was instead the language of hate dripping from the words spat by the failure of a father...

Was Kit really a failure?

This question repeated continually through Kit's head as a few tears began to roll down their cheeks, while Kit covered to scroll through their phone. A notification quickly appeared and received the honorary missclick.

It was a text Kit had scheduled to self-send, as a reminder for the upcoming stream planned this night. Due to start in four hours, and home was a two hour drive away. They'd be out of this blasted place soon!

"Oh... Cat." Kit commented as the creature began to approach.

The cat meows at you and jumps into your lap when it's close enough. Whether you pet it or not, you can tell it's white fur is fluffy, and oddly clean if it's a stray. Didn't seem like a neighbor's pet at least, though you rarely visited your parents' home with your newfound stability. It paws at your phone curiously and stares at you with beady eyes. Perhaps it senses your sadness--it cuddles into your chest with a loud purr.

You have a distinct feeling that your father won't be seeing you out, nor your mother, but should you feel it right to say goodbye, the front door is unlocked.

The wind is particularly chilly this afternoon, and the grass seems to rush to the side. For a moment, you swear you see something fly by, and the cat seems to see it too, but it's gone faster than you can examine. The cat stares at you again, keeps pawing at your phone, your chest, and meows at you as if trying to say something.

"What do you want cat?" Kit asks while petting the soft white furry creature. With shaking their head and a big sigh and a shiver, Kit stood up, with the cat in arms, and entered the house to try and find father, hopefully off the phone by now...