Chapter Text
There was a dog barking outside.
Hal blearily turned to face his alarm clock. The green numbers burned ruefully back: 5:28 AM. Great. Awesome. He actually goes to sleep early for once (if you consider 2 AM to be early), and some higher power decides to wake him up. Maybe he was just destined to be nocturnal, suffering in a diurnal world.
Groaning, he grabbed his glasses and stumbled over to the window, sticking his head out to find the source of the commotion. It turned out that his gundam shirt was good for pajamas, but not good for protecting against the cool morning air (and not even good for wearing out in public), with the light breeze making Hal rub at the goosebumps forming at his arms.
Squinting across the street, he could just make out the vague shape what appeared to be a husky absolutely losing its mind in a neighboring apartment complex. Hal sighed, which was barely audible over the husky’s yodeling; he loved dogs, this one no exception, but he had to go in to work tomorrow and this was his one guilt-free day of sleep before he died of coffee intake, or something.
Suddenly, the husky was pulled down off the window, and Hal saw a man frustratedly directing commands to it to get it to stop. Or, at least he assumed they were commands; from his position, it just kind of sounded like various “hggrrr”s and “gghhrrrg”s.
The man that presumably owned the dog had messy brown hair that was long enough to reach his shoulders, but stuck up at an unnatural angle, probably because he just woke up. He also had a nice voice, from what he could hear, and he was wearing just a loose tank top and boxers which did nothing but accentuate his nice arms and - oh. Oh no. Hal was- he was staring. Hal suddenly felt very inappropriate, spying on this mystery man who was very much his type, and tried to look away.
In pointedly trying not to check out his attractive neighbor, he noticed that a handful of other people in their apartment complexes were also spectating, though their gazes were more I’m-irritated-that-I-was-woken-up-at-assfuck-o-clock than I’m-having-a-gay-crisis-oh-wow. The man noticed everyone staring and looked sheepish, hunching his shoulders and keeping his gaze down. Finally, he managed to wrestle the husky away from the window, and quiet it down somewhat. Hal accidentally made eye contact for a split second, and before he got the chance to respond like a normal human being who knows how to socialize, the man slammed his window shut and disappeared from view.
The onlookers grumbled and went back inside, and Hal did the same, flopping back onto his cheap mattress. Might as well get some sleep while he had the chance.
Hal woke up once more, thankfully at the time he wanted. Well, no, if he woke up at the time he truly wanted, he’d sleep in until one PM. As it were, he was groggily staring up at his ceiling, listening to the Neon Genesis Evangelion opening blare from his alarm clock. Hal didn’t believe the claims that setting anything as your alarm noise would make you hate it, but he was kind of starting to feel the annoyance. He really had to change that before he started to despise A Cruel Angel’s Thesis, otherwise he’d get sent to jail for anime crimes, or something.
He tried to go through his morning routine as quick as possible, showering, brushing his hair, and getting dressed in clothing suitable to the public eye all in the span of about twenty minutes. Walking into his barebones kitchen, he took out a package of instant ramen out of his pantry (it was mostly instant ramen, anyway) and stuck some poptarts in a toaster. Venturing a glance at his sink, he was met with an overload of dirty dishes that were left to soak, but never to be washed properly. Alright. No plate for the poptarts, then.
In the middle of lifelessly eating his undercooked ramen and overcooked pop tarts with a side of cheap instant coffee(he was healthy, ok), his phone rang, the caller ID simply reading: Mama. Hal fumbled to reach his phone, and within three rings, he was happily speaking to his mother, though at the expense of a pop tart that was now broken in two on his lap.
“Hal? Sweetheart, how are you?” A pleasant British accent floated through the phone. Though there was some interference, there was no doubt that this was his mother. Hal could almost picture the scene: Strangelove, contentedly sitting at the dinner table, reading a newspaper while Joy cooked in the background, probably making pancakes.
“Hey, mama! I-I’m fine, just a little tired.” Hal stifled a yawn.
“Sweetie, you know you need to go to sleep earlier.” There was a faint murmur in the background. “Joy agrees too.”
“I - well, no, you’re right, but I did go to sleep early this time! There was just this dog across the street that woke just about everybody up at maybe, like, 5 AM or so.”
“Mmhm. And when did you go to bed?”
“Um….. two o’ clock…”
“That’s what I thought.” Another faint murmur. “Joy has some criticisms of your sleep schedule, and asks if you’re eating well.”
Hal anxiously glanced back at his ramen and poptart that was probably only providing sodium and sugar to his diet, the latter of which would probably leave a chocolate stain on his jeans. “Uh. Yeah. I’m having, uh. Pancakes.”
A surprised noise. “Oh! How lovely. Joy just made us the same thing - yes, dear, he’s having pancakes.” Hal felt a small sense of pride at correctly guessing his mothers’ daily routine, as well as a small twinge of guilt for lying so blatantly. “Well, Hal, I hope you have a nice day. Remember to - yes, darling, I know they’re not as good as your pancakes - Remember to stay warm, and try to mind your manners. I love you.”
“Bye, love you too!”
The line dropped dead, and Hal was suddenly aware of how quiet his apartment was, and how lonely. Hal found it hard to live so far away from his two mothers - after graduating from MIT, he’d gotten some temporary internship at some company writing code, leading to a low-end tech job, but both Joy and Strangelove had decided to move back to England together. He missed them, not only because he loved them dearly, but, well… they were kind of the only things resembling friends he had. Did they count as friends if they were his moms? Probably not, huh.
As he left his small apartment, he found himself distantly thinking that England was four hours ahead of Massachusetts. His mothers were relaxing, eating pancakes at 11 AM. Hal couldn’t help but be jealous. Well, he’d at least try to follow his mother’s advice and have a nice day.