Welcome To The Dollhouse ~Style fan fiction~ {Complete}

6

An hour later, Heidi leaves my bedroom, her hair a mess, holding her dress over her naked body and a slight blush on her face.
She runs to her bedroom in case anyone sees her and blows me a kiss before shutting the door.

I shut my own door in fear of anyone seeing me, then decide to clean my room up a little. The bed's pillows are randomly spaced out around the room, the duvet is slipping off the bed and the sheets are in need of washing.

I get changed into a white shirt, grey jeans and an orange tie, then go hunting for a pair of shoes since I've been walking around only in socks since I got here.
I check the wardrobe, under the bed, in the dresser, in the bathroom, but there are no shoes anywhere.

"Shoes..." I mutter to myself, "where could I get shoes?"

The closet? I don't recall seeing any shoes in there, but there's no harm in checking. I'm sure I saw a laundry basket in the closet, so I may as well kill two birds with one stone.

I strip the bed and take the cover off the duvet. I pick them both up then leave my room, smiling to myself as I pass Heidi's room.
I walk silently through the halls until I find my closet.

I'm still amazed by the size despite already have seen it. It's like the T.A.R.D.I.S, it's bigger on the inside, I'm sure of it. There's no way this huge room could fit inside this tiny house.

I look around for a pair of shoes, a box of shoes, anything, but there's nothing. There's a massive room full of clothes only for me, yet there's no shoes? What the heck?

"Kyle?"

I turn around, hearing my name. Stood by the door is the master, arms folded and leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, sir, hi," I wave automatically, dropping the bedsheets onto the floor. "Oh fuck, I'm such a butterfingers..."

"Here, let me help." He smiles, walking over.

We kneel on the floor and pick them up. We both reach for the same sheet and our fingers accidentally touch, like the couple in a cringey romantic comedy.

Stan bites his bottom lip and pulls his hand back as if it burns him.

"Sorry, I didn't want to - mean to, I mean-" I try to speak, but my mouth can't form proper sentences that make sense.

Stan scoops up all of the sheets and thrusts them into my arms. I almost drop them again due to the force.

"It's fine, I'll see you later," he says quickly, backing up towards the door, "by the way, you look really se- I mean great. Cool, nice. Bye."

He backs out of the room and shuts the doors behind him, leaving me very confused and with a blush on my face.

One I snap out of my confusion I locate the laundry room and head towards it. But before I can touch the handle I hear a noise inside, voices perhaps?
I press my ear to the door to try and hear who it is and what they're saying.

"Wendy, please," a familiar voice pants, "what if someone comes in?"

"Then they'll do their laundry," Wendy's voice replies, "it's no big deal, Bebe."

What are Wendy and Bebe doing together in the laundry room? It doesn't sound like they're doing laundry.
Should I knock on the door or just burst in? Neither of those options seem right.

"Did you hear something?" Bebe whispers worriedly, "I think someone's outside!"

Shit.

"Do you want me to check?" Wendy sighs.

"Please."

Wendy sighs again. Her heels clack against the floor until they reach the door. The door handle twists, but I still can't move.
I'm frozen, worried and unable to think of an excuse in case they catch me listening to them.

The door opens and Wendy smiles at me.

"Oh, hi Kyle! Are you here to do some laundry?" She asks.

I look past her to see Bebe sat on top of one of the washing machines, her face red and sweaty.

"Yeah." I reply, trying not to think of what they could have been doing in here, because it certainly wasn't laundry.

"Do you want me to help? These washers are a bit weird."

"Uhh, sure." I shrug.

Wendy takes the sheets from me and slams the door in my face.
I hear the clanging of the machine door opening, the rustle of the sheets being shoved inside, the slam of the door and the vibrating from the machine turning on, then Bebe gasps loudly and I instantly feel like I should leave.

I start heading back to my bedroom, when I accidentally take the wrong turn and end up outside the master's bedroom.

"Crap," I mutter to myself, "which way is my room?"

I lean against the door as I try and think of which way I should go to get back to my room, but the door opens and I fall onto my back into the master's room.

The room is a lot bigger than my bedroom. The walls are covered in black and white photographs hung up in large golden frames, showing the same family I saw earlier, but they look like they were taken in different years.
The bed is also a lot bigger than mine and has so many pillows it must be a nightmare to make the bed in the morning. They're all carefully propped up against each other and remind me of fancy hotels.

I can hear the shower running and a beautiful voice singing. I smile to myself as I get to my feet.

I quietly shut the door and head towards the bathroom to listen in better.
My brain is screaming that it's a terrible idea, but I ignore it and continue tiptoeing towards the door.

"Helpless," the singing continues, "Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit I'm helpless! Down for the count and I'm drowning in 'em."

The master's singing voice is beautiful and fills my stomach with a fluttery feeling, like butterflies.
I press my ear against the bathroom door, smiling to myself like a child who has heard a naughty word.

"Eliza I don't have a dollar to my name, an acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame," The master changes his pitch slightly to indicate the singer is male, "all I have's my honour, a tolerance to pain, a couple'a college credits and my top notch brain."

I feel a sneeze tickling my nose, shit. If I sneeze he's going to hear me and lock me in his basement or something with nothing to eat but bananas and nothing to drink but urine.

My nose twitches and I sneeze loudly into my hands, which seems to amplify the sound.

"Hello?" The master's voice calls out uncertainly, "who's there?"

Fuck.