[ CHAPTER VI (6): "FAMILY HISTORY" ]
[ "On second thought... can I?" ]
Michael thought to himself, which leaked out to his mouth as he looks at the dozen or-so of pictures scattered about in their family home
A family home he only now knows about, as he came from another universe after all, entirely separate from this one.
From pictures of when the original Michael was a babe to elementary graduation. Everything was present, either framed, or captured on camera by his mother.
He glances at the other pictures and could see the same situation with his freckled-face sister, someone who's two to three year younger than him if he isn't wrong.
Then at the other pictures which has his usually stern father, someone who he inherited his body and face from, smiling. Then at his usually frowning mother, smiling even wider, seemingly content with life.
[ "I don't even know what's weirder..." ] His transmigration into a younger variant of himself after he died. Or the fact that his parents have a happy marriage, even without the wealth they both have gotten used too.
Evident on the giant framed prom picture of his parents. His father dressed in an uncomfortable, oversized black suit, necktie nowhere to be seen. His mother on the other hand was in a green dress, her hair styled different from the usual he'd known.
On the background are other students partying, cup of whatever liquid in hand. While some are blatantly kissing on the background. And here and there, he could see blur figure of people due to them moving while being pictured by the camera.
[ "Wow..." ] said Michael, genuinely not expecting this scenery. Especially because whenever him and his family goes to parties, they would usually be composed; wearing fake smiles, maintaining composure, not enjoying life. Which everything the picture isn't.
[ "I know right, your father was a shy mess at that time. But totally in-love. Look at his stupid smile." ] His mother pointed out, coming out from nowhere; probably done thanking Mrs. Heck who lives nearby.
Michael wasn't shocked any more by the closeness of his mother, as throughout the ride, she had been talking to him nonstop and telling stories about "him" and his family. Which led to him liking her more and more than he already did.
He eyed the pictures of his father, which seems to be happy in sharp contrast to the father that he remembers. The original father he had was a perfectionist, workaholic, and borderline manipulative.
Someone who Michael plotted the murder of hundreds of times. As payback to what he did to him all years of his life, though he never really had the courage to do any of those what ifs. He wished he did.
And he thought that this "father" of his would be the same, but surprisingly enough, that isn't the same even though his impression of him was only through pictures. Michael knew enough that, this isn't like his original father, thus no malice.
But his curiosity was still there, why is it that in this life his parents are different. Why is it that they aren't living in their mansion? Showering in both money and coldness of being an elite, the plasticness of everything.
[ "Mom?" ] So he asked her, stopping her rambling about his sister's favorite food; which are pancakes.
[ "Yes, Mikey?" ]
[ "How did you..." ] Became so happy in this life, but not in the other. He wanted to ask that, but prompted for another. [ "How did you and father met?" ]
For a moment his mother seems to be taken aback by the question, stammering as if not knowing where to start. Or if she should answer the question. [ "Oh... that's... difficult, really." ]
[ "But me and your father were classmates back in high school, I was outgoing he was shy. I cared about friends he cared more about studying." ] She paused for a second, thoughtful look in her eyes. As she then continues, staring at Michael's eyes which are wide in surprise.
[ "It was not planned, but my prom date bailed on me in favor of someone more beautiful, so I... I asked someone out, at that time everyone else had a partner. So I asked the only one who didn't." ]
[ "Father...?" ] asked Michael, surprised by the fact that someone genuinely bailed on his mother. Or that someone else was more beautiful than her. Or the fact that she was the one who did the first move.
[ "Yes, yes. That dork, which is your dad. He was hesitant at first, but I had my ways." ] She said with a smile. [ "Ultimately we made a deal, he goes on a date with me, I don't bother him again." ]
[ "The perfect compromise." ] Michael said, knowing the personality of his father like a book; he does share that aspect of his father after all. That is liking to be alone.
[ "Hmm hmm. I accepted the deal of course, wouldn't want to be the only girl who went to prom without a date. That'll be an embarrasment for me at the time." ] She continued. [ "One thing led to another, and now we have a happy family. We had you, then your sister." ]
He never did ask his parents how they met, or had any proper conversation with them aside for the, "be proper" comment he kept receiving here and there.
His father wasn't always at home, and if he was, then he'll be doing something and not spending time with him. His mother also, who much prefers drinking or going out of the house whenever she can.
[ "That sounds like a happy ending." ] But in now hearing their story, he actually thinks that something else might have happened along the way that led to this story. Either way, it looks like a happy ending to him.
[ "The best ending, dear." ]
His mother commented, smiling warmly before then tugging at his ear. Now continuing to explain the story of the dozens or-so of pictures, some stories either very long or very short.
Michael listened attentively, finding happiness in listening to his mother. Even though oftentimes the stories either led to embarrising anecdotes or even more embarrising anecdotes, most directed at him.
[ -----| SCENE BREAK |----- ]
[ "I don't think I can." ] Michael clarified, on getting used too with his new life. As at the moment, he has his head layed on an unfamiliar bed, fingers intertwined.
He kept looking around at the room he's in, apparently his bedroom. Which is smaller than his previous one, is more cramped in comparison, and is extremely messy- something of which he isn't.
All-around the room he could see toys, a basketball ball, a footaball, and more pictures featuring his face.
[ "This is unreal." ] For a second his gaze landed on a framed picture of him in the nightstand besides the bed, eating a hotdog while smiling greedily at the camera- likely taken by his mother. [ "So-so very unreal." ]
First he isn't used to a room that is small. Second is that, he isn't used to a room which doesn't have hundreds of books stacked nearby; plus with a bookshelve featuring classical literature.
Thirdly is that, he isn't used to the curtains being drawn open, thus letting the rain of sunshine from outside to seep through. And lastly, he isn't used too hearing cars and barking in his room; or mansion as a whole.
Usually the mansion where he lives is a quiet place, to the point that it felt lonely. In school, yes, people are loud due to them socializing with one another.
But for Michael school and home are two wildly different places, with this being the latter. I.e. somewhere it should be quiet, a place for loneliness and isolation.
Another fun fact, apparently this variant of himself doesn't own any gadgets; phones, computer, or even a tablet. Not even anything remotely digital, how does this kid entertain himself? He doesn't know.
So after a few minutes of staring in the ceiling, which is white, same with the walls. Michael fnally decided to- [ "I need something to do." ] do something, whatever something that may be.
Anything would do, as he isn't used to being idle. On the contratry, he always did busy himself either with studying, reading, or fidgeting with his phone, still reading about something like a manga, or fanfic.
So he stood up and opened the door leading to outside, he doesn't want to stay in there for a second longer anyways. Then he went down the stairs, trying to find something that he could do.
He went to the sink and noticed a few plates still unwashed, which he then washed albeit with difficulty as he usually doesn't do that kind of work- the servants does.
[ "This actually feels nice." ] He doesn't know why, but the feeling of cleaning dishes for the first time was great. To the point that it felt euphoric even; so he continued to busy himself, this time with the vaccum he found laying around.
He doesn't know how to work out the said machination, but thankfully he found a small guide nearby which he spent his time reading, hands still somewhat wet. [ "I... alright, understanable." ]
Michael nodded to himself after a few minutes, before then throwing the book to the sofa nearby without care. As he then prepares to clean using the vaccum, for the first time in his long 21 years of life. No matter how weird that may seem.
In hindsight, his mother should not have left him alone on the house in favor of grocery. Especially because this version of her son is... weirder than the usual.
[ "What the?!" ]
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[ FUN FACT: "A normal cloud weighs around a million tonnes. A cloud typically has a volume of around 1km3 and a density of around 1.003kg per m3 - that's a density that's around 0.4 per cent lower than the air surrounding it." ]
[ 11/26/2025 ]
[ 11/27/2025 ]