Cashiering isn't so bad [Creepypasta/Marble Hornets x Male reader]

My Final Goodbye

[A/N] Hey, so my dog got knocked up. She had 6 pups, and to keep it brief, 3 passed and so did she about a week after.

Sorry for the two-two and a half month long hiatus, I'm still not over it obviously but I turned my emotional burnout into the final normal chapter before things go loco' and we don't see Liu for a while.

Thank you all for your patience, and please enjoy your chapter.

   The following weekend was nice. M/n got his cast off, opted out of any extra work, spent time with his parents, and although he knew it was pointless he still took an interest in physical therapy. There were these hand grips his doctor had mentioned and once his appointment wrapped up he found himself at Walmart, begrudgingly buying a set. The grips and the stretches, within the span of a few hours, became subconscious little actions he'd do during any mindless activity. Which included finally getting his matching tattoo done with his mom.

She was so excited, hugging his torso tightly while he read off the appointment information from the parlors website. He always wondered why she was so adamant about matching tattoos, it's not like she'd even be able to see it considering how small the designs she picked out were, but it didn't matter as long as she was happy. The tattoos themselves were cute and sentimental. She called them "mature," and at the time he scoffed at the unintentionally targeted comment.

Now he sat on the floor with his back against his bed frame, sobbing into the sleeve of his hoodie while glancing occasionally at the little bandage on his index finger covering his newest piece.

It had been hours since their appointment wrapped up. They took pictures, had lunch, and parted ways. He was fine up until he got into his car alone, that was when he started thinking. And lately thinking's been getting him in a lot of trouble.

During the last few months he came off as pretty content, and on a good day he was in fleeting moments, but the thought of his mom and how she'd hold up once he's gone always ate away at him. One kid in prison and the other dead he was unable to put himself in her shoes. She was strong, she worked sixty-hour weeks to provide for them, she fought tooth and nail in court to get him back from foster care, and this is how he repaid her. By joining a gang and getting himself killed over some douchebag who never bothered writing back from prison.

It's days like these where he dissolved into a puddle of his own tears, loathing that piece of shit for extending his sentence and ruining their lives. He grew to hate him and once his sentence was up he would drive eight hours himself just to knock a couple teeth out.

After what felt like hours he finally pulled himself up off his floor, discarding his snotty tear stained hoodie into the pile of dirty clothes falling off the edge of his bed. Eying the hand grip on his dresser uneasily, he was having an emotional breakdown, did he really want to do this? Of course he didn't but he's a responsible adult so he will anyway.

With his grip in one hand and his phone in the other he made his way down the hall and into his living room. He knew he looked awful, his eyes red and puffy and his nose raw from wiping it, and he was much too exhausted to cook his own food so door dash it was. They might be unethical but they sure are convenient, and as he entered his living room and recognized Liu standing at his glass balcony doors he realized he should probably utilize the convenience of door dash a second time to add more food to his order now that he had company.

The doors were thrown open, as he tapped away at his phone, more violently than usual but it wasn't till Liu opened his mouth that M/n pieced together what was going on.