✓ | teddy bear. kth

.my teddy.

—your pov

Teddy had been with me, probably my entire life. He'd been in my memories since I can remember, and I was told he was given to me only a few days after I was born.

I used to carry him, just about everywhere. The kitchen, my brothers room, parents room, vacations, holidays, weekends away. Everywhere.

We slept together every night as I told him stories, childish ones of course, but those stopped when I reached a certain age I realised it was weird to spend my time telling something unresponsive a story so thorough.

Everytime I had to leave the house without him, or go somewhere I wasn't able to drag him along, I'd leave a kiss on the top of his fluffy head and the tip of his tiny, sewn nose. Although, that stopped too.

And yet, despite the half-hearted affection, I cared for him, like my baby. He had always been my sense of comfort through just about everything. Breakups, crushes, anxiety and one of the biggest faults; insecurities. They were the ones who left me crying into his head (and sometimes the tissue replacement, but that was a dark time and we won't talk about that.) He was always there. And thank god, he was.

Through time, he became very special to me. Very special, that even at the age of sixteen, I couldn't seem to part with him, despite the constant bugging my parents bagged me about. He was here, and he was here to stay.

Sure, it was odd. Still sleeping with a nearly beadless toy, but you were too deep now to even consider it habit. It was simply a part of your day that couldn't be considered a day for it not gone through.

So old and still sleeping with a teddy? How childish. Maybe there's something wrong with her? So immature. Just grow up! Comments that always left people's lips once they found out, made me embarrassed, sure. Who wouldn't be? But that didn't mean I stopped.

I kept him for a reason. I loved him. He loved me. In his own way of course, seeing as he hadn't possessed an actual beating heart, ready to spray emotions and affection all over the place. But, I managed to convince myself, somewhere in teddy world, he loved me back.

I wasn't hurting anyone. If anything, I was helping myself. So really, where's the issue. It was my life choice. It was my life.  I could do anything I wanted (to an extent) and I wanted to keep him. And so be it. Simply, I like having something to hug in my sleep.

Onwards to the present.

Exhausted, I arrived home from the treacherous place known as school. Sadly, I still had to attend public, even after begging my dad during the holidays to put me into online, to no avail, of course. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in this situation.

It was tough. The teachers wanted, begged, for the students to at least try to get good grades. And we did try. The majority of us, anyway. But with such work they presented, it was difficult. Surely, they were to give us a break from the constant writing work and no practical. Apparently not.

Being a student with, decent grades, was sometimes hard. Having to stay within B's and the occasion A. I wanted to pay back my family for what they had given me and with nothing else I was actually good at, school was the best place to do it.

However, I get distracted. Easily. Which means, I end up doing some (most) of the work last minute. At 2AM. Like now.

There was a test tomorrow. Nothing too big, but it would go towards my end of the year grade. I was so set on actually getting some studying done and determined to be prepared.

All that went down the drain when I forgot about it. The rest of the assignments having drowned out everything and anything else in my mind at the time. It seemed to remain that way for the rest of the week until I was reminded by a friend-ish-person-i-knew-of asking if I had done any revision at 10PM.

I got to work right away. Maybe not right way; perhaps, I waited another half an hour, putting it off saying it wouldn't take long, anyway.

Everybody in the house was sleeping, everybody in the neighbourhood was probably sleeping, too. How lovely.

Looking over to check the time, my tired eyes didn't make much movement when I realised it was far past my usual lay in bed time. Instead, only slamming the thick book shut and tidying away the array of notes and diagrams scattered on the ebony desk before dragging yourself to flop into bed.

After a few seconds of silence and shut-eye, I groaned, pushing myself up and pulling back the duvet, tangling myself in the warmness and pulling the familiar body of fluff towards your chest, craning your neck into the top of the teddies head.

He didn't really have a name, occasionally going by teddy and sometimes 'vee-vee' a name formed from when I stuttered out one of the letters of the alphabet when three years of age. My parents then taking the initiative to name random things around the house letters so I could get used to them.

Coincidentally, 'V' was the chosen letter for my bear. I then sat there for a while with my eyes closed, hoping that sleep would be bestowed upon me.

Which didn't happen with my luck. Sort of just laying there, I got frustrated and started twisting and turning as the bear fell out of my arms as I finally settled on facing the other side, my worn self not even noticing.

And then, finally, I slept.