Requested by nonbinary_silver
A/n: First time I'm doing a chapter that's someone else's POV. Hopefully this doesn't suck ass.
Also, this is fully Steven's POV, and this story is based off of a twitter comic I saw once.
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Being alone is far from fun. It sucks more than a Remoraid to a Mantine. And when its because you're being accused of killing your brother, it sucks more, because word spreads like a wildfire. I wish I never killed Mike... I told the townsfolk here otherwise, but they seemed to see right through that. And now, here I sat, awake at 3 in the goddamn morning, because I can't get an ounce of sleep anymore. Insomnia kicked my ass hard. I'm starting to get hallucinations of the one I once called my dear older brother. I know they aren't real, but these hallucinations were vivid. Too vivid. I don't know why I'm being taunted like this. I get that I kind of deserve it, but this? It's too much, even for me.
I was snapped out of my intrusive thoughts by a quiet knock on the door, and the quick pitter patter of footsteps that ran off. It's probably one of those ding-dong ditchers, or whatever. Despite that information, I got up from my pathetically broken couch, I went to the door, and opened it. When I did, I suddenly heard the soft, muffled cries of a baby. I was shocked, surprised, flabbergasted. I really just had a kid dropped onto me. I wasn't even close to ready to taking care of a baby! In spite of any urges that I might have been feeling in that moment, I picked up the lobster pot made rucksack that held the baby, and brought it inside. Next to the perturbed child was a note. Was it from the original parent? When I was about to pick the paper up, the baby started getting fussy. Deciding to forget about the note for the time being, I tried anything I could to calm the child down. Eventually, I figured out that it was cold, so I wrapped the youngin with blankets, and sat them on the couch.
They quieted down, and smiled at me. While it did weird me out just a bit, I couldn't help but smile back. After the child was guaranteed to be calm, I picked up the note. I'm gonna skip the semantics, and summarise what the note said. Basically, the town this kid came from was unsafe, and their entire family was in danger. The note also said that the kid didn't have a name. I guess... I'm their parent now. Picking up the baby in their blankets, I held them gently. Despite me having been the younger sibling, I can understand how Mike could have felt when I was this tiny. "...Y/n," I muttered quietly, "That's your name now." They only gurgled in response, unable to form even a semblance of a word.
[Age 5]
Now that the kid was five, things have simultaneously gotten better, and worse. Y/n was an angel, of course. It's the townsfolk that are the issue here. The first time I brought Y/n out after I received them that night, I got some nasty looks from the people that live here. Like they were expecting me to kill this innocent, and precious life. Those looks were mostly from women and younger folks. The older men stared like they were expecting me to do worse things to Y/n. Although I felt indifferent to them at first, I'd warmed up to them over time. And quite quickly as well. Those looks changed as the neighbors and townsfolk watched as Y/n grew in my care. I'll admit, I wasn't the perfect surrogate. But I was good enough for it to be adequate.
It was a long day for the two of us, though. We had a fun time playing with some particularly friendly Pokémon. I don't know what it was, but Pokémon aren't usually friendly to anyone, let alone vulnerable children. Maybe there was an aura about Y/n that naturally made Pokémon want to come to them? Either way, we had started to go home. And when we got there, after getting Y/n's shoes off, and sending them to get their pyjamas on, I sat on the couch, and contemplated life, just for a moment. Would this have still happened had I not killed Mike? Would Y/n hate me if they learned the truth about me? Would Mike have been a better surrogate than me? If the two met, would they get more attached to Mike? I hadn't realised that Y/n had been trying to get my attention until I felt two small hands grabbing my sweatshirt.
"Dada! I'm calling you! I'm ready for bed!" They yelled, playfully frustrated with the fact that I had inadvertently ignored them. I let out a chuckle. "Alright, alright, I'm comin'." With that, Y/n had started to run upstair, and to their room, which used to be mine. I let Y/n use my room as their room because I refused to let them have the opportunity to ask about Mike. I didn't care how old they were, I was not about to let that happen. Once Y/n had crawled into bed, I tucked them in, nice and snug. It felt kind of good being able to do this to someone else. It made me remember when Mike used to do the same to me. Good times. Times I miss dearly. I'd given Y/n a gentle kiss on the head as they fell asleep, and the smile they gave to me gave me a bit more life. But instead of immediately leaving the room like I normally would, I sat at the foot of their bed to continue thinking about choices I made in the past.
The further my mind delved into these thoughts, the less real I felt. I'd started to feel empty, and worthless. Did I really have a purpose in this world other than to take care of Y/n? Was that really all my life was worth? A child? Maybe I should... Nah. It wouldn't be fair to them. To suddenly lose me like that. I was only snapped out of my thoughts when I became aware of Y/n shaking, and seeming to have a pretty terrible nightmare. I could hear them muttering things under their breath. Things like, "Stop it," or "Someone help," and worst of all, "Dad, where are you?" Gently grabbing hold of a hand that peeked from beneath their blanket, I held their hand firmly, yet gently. "I'm here." I muttered quietly. Y/n seemed to calm significantly, and they stopped shaking and muttering things. Maybe I did have a purpose in life. And my purpose slept here, before me.
"Don't worry, Y/n... Daddy's right here, sunshine... I'm here..."
<<End>>
