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“Take me to Costco.”
Altan thinks he’s seen it all.
He had taken to pseudo-parenting Ramsa ever since he had popped up in the Cike five years ago – it was wildly exhausting considering that Ramsa had the disposition of a feral, perpetually shitting cat.
“No,” He responds, barely even looking at him.
Ramsa had developed this obsession with Costco recently; he had also begun to hide his iPad from Altan’s gaze, so that was probably something to do with it.
He didn’t really want some random ass bomb-obsessed kid, but Altan would be lying if he said that Ramsa didn’t grow on him. He was still a bit weird, but still. The sentiment was there.
“Please,” Ramsa begs, “It would make Rin happy.”
Altan rolls his eyes, “How come?”
Rin had recently gone through a very difficult and messy breakup with her boyfriend that, frankly, Altan never liked – some Yin boy. It was always the goddamn fucking Yins ruining their lives.
“Just… Because!” Ramsa says, acting very unlike the fifteen year old he was.
Altan sighs, “Will it get you to stop pestering me about it?”
“Yes!” (The way he had screeched the word hurt Altan’s ears; maybe he should break up with Chaghan and throw custody of Ramsa to him…)
“Fine.”
Ramsa screams loudly, something about getting vengeance for Rin and… Whatever Ramsa was up to.
Altan puts down his book, head in his hands, regretting ever existing.
Though the Yin ankle-showing harlot was always a bit of a bitch, Altan feels extremely sorry for whatever Ramsa would bestow on him.
Ramsa insists on sitting in the middle of the cart, legs crossed awkwardly in the middle of it, perched absolutely upright with his hands clasped together – as if keeping watch or something.
Altan obliges him, because he’s too fucking tired to argue with him.
“Altan,” He mock-whispers, “Look.”
He points at the stationery aisle, where a group of families were crowding around, with about a couple dozen young children maybe a decade younger than Ramsa were milling about, all carrying various stationery supplies for the back-to-school season.
He sighs loudly as he pushes the cart towards the aisle, wondering where Chaghan was. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see three texts from Chaghan.
Rin’s sad about that rich boy again
help
what do you do with her bc idk what to do she’s like 3 how does she have an ex boyfriend
Altan is about to respond with some genius idea (calling Kitay) when Ramsa jumps out of the cart, springing out into the crowd of children as they scream, dispersing. The cart topples over, crashing sideways as a thousand parents send him angry glares, all holding their children protectively. Some kids, however, were still in shock of the incident, but apparently blocked Ramsa’s path, so he did the only natural thing he could do as he swung his arms out wildly into their developing faces – he had even fucking
bit
some, somehow?
He had made a pretty impressive beeline towards the bulk boxes of glitter, of which he carried five simultaneously, each stacked on top of the other, as he ran back towards Altan. He hurried to get the cart upright again as Ramsa tipped four of them in it, one of them spilling out in a rainbow mess on the ground.
“Go!” He yells at Altan, who takes the initiative and runs straight to the exit with the cart in one hand, Ramsa’s hand in the other as a thousand angry parents either scream at them or start fucking chasing them.
Altan makes a quick decision because he does truly value his life at this moment (and Chaghan would be pissed if he found out, which he would like to avoid, thank you) – he sprints towards the door, avoiding the checkout entirely.
In theory, he knows stealing is bad.
He doesn’t really care – he doesn’t have their fucking clubcard anyway.
The alarms screech as they run towards his dilapidated car, each grabbing the boxes of glitter as they pile them into the back of his car, shoving aside the cart dramatically, falling on the ground one last time like their fallen brethren in another life – it clanged, some metal part falling off. Altan stuffs his key in the ignition before driving off, Ramsa still clambering in, his legs still touching the floor as his car sped off into the road.
Ramsa is pretty calm when they get back to the Night Castle.
Chaghan glances at them, his eyebrow raised at the four towering 50 kg boxes of glitter in their arms, opening his mouth to say something, before ultimately deciding that he doesn’t want to know.
“Rin is uh… Yeah,” He says, still glancing at Ramsa unpacking the boxes with a visceral joy that only a child could experience, his hands sifting through the rainbow glitter with wonder and excitement.
“Don’t ask,” Altan grumbles, his heart still beating erratically, a sheen of sweat still on his forehead.
He goes to comfort Rin, but not before he hears the most demonic cackle from Ramsa. Before, he had thought it was one of those weird slime projects that Ramsa had been obsessed with for
years,
but now he was convinced it was something different. They had long known not to have Ramsa near carpets – there was still some weird fucking ball of
something
on the floor of Tyr’s bedroom that even Enki couldn’t get rid of to this day – but had they considered
glitter?
Altan sighs, before praying that it was actually something to do with Nezha and not them.
Turns out, thank goodness, it was. About ten minutes after he barrages his way through Rin’s door, she gets a call.
She looks at her phone before freezing.
The name
Yin Nezha
was there, bright and clear.
“What the fuck?” She mutters.
Altan grabs her phone before she can do something impulsively.
“You need to keep him out of your life, Mai’rinnen.”
He is about to block the traitorous bitch when he sends a barrage of texts to Rin’s phone – a thousand messages about some emergency or…? He doesn’t even know, but some curious parts of him accepts the call when he calls again.
“WHAT THE FUCK,” is the first thing Yin Nezha screams through the phone, “WHY IS MY ENTIRE FUCKING
HOUSE
COVERED IN GLITTER?”
Altan hangs up.
Ah.
So that’s what Ramsa was doing.