“Ink, why is there a frog in our kitchen?”
Cross’s roommate was sipping coffee nearby—not that prism particularly needed the energy, but he digressed—completely oblivious to the amphibian sliding around on their floors. They barely had the money to afford a small apartment, and now Ink was bring frogs in it?
“Their name is Pickles!” they announced triumphantly. “I love them. I was gonna tell you about them!! I have the extra money to buy a tank for them, and I promise I’ll take care of them!”
Vi said everything so fast, Cross barely had the time to process any of it. Huh? A pet? What was all this about?
“Ink...” he murmured. What was this skeleton thinking? “You barely remember to take care of yourself. And that’s even with the fifty reminders that go off on your phone throughout the day!”
“But Cross...” et shot back, “they’re such a cute frog!! I checked, they’re not poisonous, and all they need is fresh water and food everyday! That’s all!!”
Cross raised an eyebrow, unbelieving. Within a month, he knew “Pickles” would likely end up under his care alone. Which he didn’t mind that much, if he didn’t know Ink.
“What’s the catch?”
Ink gave him a puppy-eyed stare.
“No catch! Just a cute frog!”
There was a catch.
Apparently, Ink underestimated frogs’ ability to lay eggs. Drastically. Instead of _one_ frog, there were now hundreds.
Luckily, Ink had the sense to introduce them to the local ecosystem with their parent. Pen shed a tear when pen had to let Pickles go.
“Goodbye, my loves...” they whispered under their breath, more dramatic than Cross could’ve ever imagined. “I’ll miss you...”
Cross wrapped an arm around calligraph, wiping calligraphy tears away.
“They’ll be alright,” he comforted. “I promise.”