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Quirrels acid tube slotted perfectly into place with the rest. A bright glow emanated from the tube as it connected into its holder before gradually dimming. A perfect fit!
Little Quirrel squealed with excitement! One acid tube down, five hundred and seventy three more to go! Quirrel loved the job Monomon had given- no, bestowed upon him. While putting acid tubes into alphabetical and numerical order seemed boring to most bugs, Quirrel adored it. Having learned the alphabet only a few days ago, Quirrel was excited to put his new skills to work.
Carefully, Quirrel climbed down from a pile of books he’d been using in place of a ladder. Being the only bug in the archives, things like ladders and stools weren’t common as the oomas and uomas could just float around. So Quirrel made due with his own haphazard constructions for especially high acid tube placements.
Soft cyan light filled the archives halls as the little scholar ambled on through. The tubes he carried were stacked far over his head, Quirrel constantly shifted his balance to keep them from toppling over. Could he have carried three or four acid tubes at once? Yes, but he wanted to impress Lady Monomon. He’d finish his assignments in only four hours, Monomon would be so impressed! Maybe even, she’d reward him with cookies! Or ice cream! Quirrel loved ice cream.
He set down the acid tube pile next to a shelf and started sorting through them.
Eggplant Hydroponics , no. Advanced Algebraic Equations , nope. Why is our pale ruler so short?: a novel , what?
After a lot of digging (and confusion) Quirrel came up with a pair of tubes that could be sorted into this shelf.
He pushed over a high stack of books and started climbing, raising his mask and clamping a tube between his mandibles. He reached the summit and stood atop the mountain of books, pulling his mask back down and tapping the chin of his mask in thought, trying to find the exact, perfect spot for these two acid tubes.
Suddenly Quirrel spotted something out of place, some buffoon had, incorrectly, slotted an acid tube where his was supposed to go. Quirrel scoffed and reached for the tube, giving the troublesome thing a tug. Expectantly, whoever had slotted this tube had done so forcefully, making the holder jam.
Quirrel slid both tubes under an arm and started pulling on the jammed acid tube. His pulling started light, but slowly intensified in force as Quirrel became impatient. Quirrel grunted angrily as the stubborn tube refused to come loose. He gave a final, forceful yank and his claws slipped, sending little Quirrel and his acid tubes off the stack of books and barreling towards the ground.
Quirrel squeaked as he landed, mask first, on the hard tile floor. The ring of breaking glass sang out around him and he clutched both his claws to his face. A biting pain scorched across Quirrels body, but nothing bit more than his face and mask. Quirrel sniffed and sat up slowly. There was a pressure welling at the back of his eyes, threatening to come pouring out.
Quirrel pulled off his mask and looked around. The archives were as still and quiet as ever, Quirrel was all alone. He peered down at his mask and his breath caught at the sight. A crack. There was a thin crack running down the base of one eye socket.
The dam broke and Quirrel started sobbing, tears ran streaks down his face and he pulled his mask to his chest. His mask was broken and, by proxy, his face had.
His weeping only intensified when, through teary eyes, she spotted the glass shards of the tubes he’d fallen with a few meters away. Monomon had given him a task and he failed her. Broke her acid tubes even. He was the worst assistant ever! She was going to hate him!
He didn’t even get the jammed tube loose.
Quirrel put his broken mask back on and pulled his bandanna down low over his face, shuffling out of the archive. He kept his head low and made a beeline to his room. The oomas and uomas shot him concerned looks as he passed but Quirrel brushed them off, only focusing on his steps and getting to his bedroom.
Upon entering, Quirrel quietly shut the door behind him and jumped into his hammock. His dorm was just an old storage room Monomon had reserved for him, there were no windows, and piping ran along the far wall and overhead. The walls were filled with paper, schematics, blueprints, drawings, sketches you name it, Quirrel hadn't anything else to decorate his room with.
Quirrel curled up and wept into his pillow. Everything was ruined, Monomon would never forgive him for this, she was probably gonna kick him out of her archives. He might as well save her the trouble and run away.
Gradually, Quirrel uncurled and stepped out of his hammock and retrieved his backpack. He started cramming it with things he’d need desperately to survive. Things like; a blanket, two pillows, and a stale jelly sandwich, plus his rock collection.
He tore his map down from his wall and gave it a look over. He traced a claw from the Archives to the Queens Station and finally the City of Tears, tapping his finger a few times on the tall buildings he’d penciled in and colored with crayon. Quirrel folded up the map and tucked it into his shell.
He scanned his room one last time and his eyes caught something glowing under a few rogue papers. He picked it up and new tears started forming in the corners of his eyes. The glow and fuzziness of the acid and electricity made it a bit hard to see, but as Quirrels eyes adjusted he held a happy photograph of him and Monomon in his claws.
‘Back when she didn’t hate me’ Quirrel thought.
Quirrel could feel another wave of tears building up, but was interrupted by a knock at his door. “Quirrel? Are you in there?” Monomon asked in a soft, albeit muffled, tone from the other side of the door.
“No!” Quirrel covered his mouth before he could say anymore and scrambled around his room looking for a place to hide, dropping his bag in the process.
“May I come in?” Quirrel didn’t respond, too busy scaling the web of pipes at the far end of his room. He shimmied around a particularly large pipe and took his hiding spot behind it, the soft rushing acid within was just barely audible.
The door creaked open, Quirrel peered down from his hiding spot to see Monomon enter, she ducked through the low door frame and floated on in.
She looked around the empty room, confused. “Quirrel, are you hiding from me?” she giggled, searching through the blankets on his bed with her tendrils.
Quirrel liked playing hide and seek but this was serious! He crept further into the nest of pipes, trying to sink into the darkness.
“I know you’re here Quirrel!” she teased.
Quirrel gulped, and shut his eyes tight, failing to notice the soft glow slowly creeping towards him. Something clanged against one of the metal pipes and Quirrels vision snapped to Monomons looming white mask.
“Found you!” she chirped happily, reaching her tentacles down for him.
Quirrel broke down and started crying. Monomon immediately pulled back and covering the bottom of her mask with a tendril.
“I'msosorrymonmon,ibrokeyouracidtubes,pleasedon't hateme” Quirrel breathed out, sobbing into his hands. The jig is up, Monomon is going to hate him now.
“Oh, Quirrel'' Monomon sighed, Quirrel felt her squishy, but strong tentacles carefully lift him out of the webbing of pipes and back into the center of his room. His dorm was small but had an extremely high ceiling, allowing Monomon to float at full height.
Quirrel looked up at Monomon nervously and she gasped. “Quirrel! Your mask, are you hurt!”
Her assistant shook his head slowly, a new wave of tears flooded out from his mask.
Monomon cupped the side of his head. “It’s okay Quirrel. Tell me what happend.” she said softly.
“Mon-mon I’m so so so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please-” Quirrel whimpered through the tears.
But Monomon hushed him. “Quirrel, I promise I won't be mad! Just tell me.”
Little Quirrel rubbed his mask and sat up sniffling. He looked into Monomons concerned eyes and realized she was telling the truth. He breathed in. He breathed out. And told Monomon what happened in a shaky voice.
When he was finished there was a pause and Quirrel prepared for an outburst. Insted, Monomon lovingly patted Quirrel on the top of his head.
“Looks like we need some ladders, hmm?” She hummed.
Quirrel looked up, shocked. “You’re really not mad!”
Monomon laughed, a sound that made Quirrels heart rise. “Nope. Quirrel, it's just some acid tubes, I don’t care about them, I care about you silly!”
Quirrel blinked. “But my mask…” his hand rubbed over the crack.
“We’ll get you a new one, you needed a bigger one anyway.”
Quirrel shook his head hastily “ No, no, Mon-mon. Masks are expensive, I don't have enough tiny shells!” He pointed to a large jar under his hammock with a few scant pieces of geo at the bottom. His allowance.
She batted a tentacle. “Nonsense, I’ll take it out of the archives petty cash, you have nothing to worry about Quirrel, matter of fact, if you finish up early tomorrow, you can come with me and pick it out yourself. How about that?”
Quirrel was speechless.
Monomon looked off and stroked a tendril down the side of her mask. “We need a ladder and some stools for you also…”
Monomons tiny assistant jumped up and hugged her mask, smushing his mask to hers. “Thank you Mon-mon” he whispered.
“You’re welcome, but Quirrel, really it’s no trouble.” She chuckled, wrapping a tentile around his waist to make sure he didn’t slide off.
“Mon-mon?”
“Yes” she hummed
“You promise you’ll never leave me?” Tears started trickling down his mask. Happy tears. His parents had left him. They left him on the doorstep to the archives.
“I promise, Quirrel.” Monomon cooed, rubbing circles into his back.
After a long moment, the two separated, and Quirrel rubbed away the tears.
“Want to be put down?”
“No.” Quirrel said distantly as he slid down a tendril and started swigging.
Monomon hummed and drifted out of the room, pulling the door closed behind.
“Well Quirrel, I think it’s time for lunch, care to join me?” She said, floating down the cyan halls to the cafeteria.
“But madam!” Quirrel exclaimed, stopping his play and climbing up her tendril. She raised her soft appendage, and dangled Quirrel up at eye level. “The lunch bell isn’t gonna ring for hours!”
“Correct.” The Teacher said as she scooped him up into another tentacles grip. “But I'm Teacher Monomon, and this is my archive, I can get my meals whenever I want. And that goes for you too, as my assistant, technically, you outrank everybody else but me.”
“Woah, so I could order the uomas to give me cookies whenever I want?” Quirrel pondered.
“uhhh”
“And ice cream? ICE CREAM WHENEVER I WANT??”
“Don't push it kiddo.”